He turned and looked at her in surprise. "Why, what——?" And he stopped.
She read the doubt in his face, and read it wrong.
"I can—I can!" she cried. "Go quickly! We shall be all right!"
He twisted his mouth in curious fashion; then he jumped from his seat, and ran in light leaps across the road. The man was holding the revolver high out of the women's reach, while they clung to him and held him frantically, convulsively, crying: "Help! Madonna! Help!"
Della Rocca reached him in an instant, and wrenched the short revolver away. With a quick gesture he opened the barrel and shook the cartridges out upon the ground. He tossed the weapon to one of a dozen men who had now come hurrying out of a neighbouring wine-shop, and, running lightly across the dusty road, he was back at the side of the carriage in an instant. He glanced up at Nancy, and raised his hat again with the exaggerated sweep that had caused her to smile before.
"Pardon me for keeping you waiting," he said.
"Ah, quel poseur!" cried Clarissa, who had sat with her eyes shut, holding her ears during the excitement.
Della Rocca smiled, and, jumping into his place, took the reins from Nancy's strained and trembling hands. She dropped back in her seat feeling faint and excited. The horses plunged and started forward again.
"What courage!" said Clarissa, taking Nancy's fingers in her own.
"Yes," said Nancy, looking with approval at the straight, slim shoulders and the black hair and the irreproachable hat. "I like a brave man."