Betty was dressed with all decency and neatness, but I had taken off my coat on account of the suffocating heat. Nevertheless, though I was in shirt sleeves, I should not have been ashamed of my attire before the most respectable woman in Italy.
All at once I heard a rapid step coming along the passage, and the door was dashed open. A furious-looking man came in, and, seeing Betty, cried out,—
“Ah! there you are.”
I did not give him time to turn round and see me, but leapt upon him and seized him by the shoulders. If I had not done so he would have shot me dead on the spot.
As I leapt upon him I had involuntarily closed the door, and as he cried, “Let me go, traitor!” Betty fell on her knees before him, exclaiming, “No, no! he is my preserver.”
Sir B—— M—— was too mad with rage to pay any attention to her, and kept on,—
“Let me go, traitors!”
As may be imagined, I did not pay much attention to this request so long as the loaded pistol was in his hand.
In our struggles he at last fell to the ground and I on top of him. The landlord and his people had heard the uproar, and were trying to get in; but as we had fallen against the door they could not do so.
Betty had the presence of mind to snatch the pistol from his hand, and I then let him go, calmly observing,