As the Viscount spoke a sudden tremor seized upon him, and he leaned on his friend's shoulder for support.
"You are faint from loss of blood!" exclaimed Espérance, much alarmed. "How thoughtless in me not to bind up your wound!"
Taking his handkerchief from his pocket, he wiped the blood from his friend's arm, carefully, tenderly bandaging the hurt; then he made a sling of Giovanni's handkerchief, placing the wounded member in it. The Viscount felt easier thus, though still somewhat faint.
"You are quite a physician, Espérance," said he.
"Not at all," replied the son of Monte-Cristo; "but my father taught me how to manage hurts; he said the knowledge would at some time be useful to me, and his words have proved true."
"Your father is a wonderful man; he seems to think of everything, to provide for all contingencies. Thanks to the skill he imparted to you, I am now in a condition to start on the homeward journey."
The young men turned their faces towards Rome, but scarcely had they taken a dozen steps when the road in front of them literally swarmed with rough-looking armed men, who effectually barred their progress. In an instant they were surrounded. Resistance was impossible; the two friends glanced at each other and about them in dismay. The new comers were evidently bandits, members of Luigi Vampa's desperate band.
One of the miscreants, who appeared to be the leader and was very picturesquely attired, confronted Giovanni and Espérance. He had a pistol in his belt, but did not draw it.
"You are my prisoners!" said he, in a tone of authority.