As he approached he snatched a mask from his face, and there was her father, Don Riccardo.
“And to think that you are here, all of you, safe as ever!” he exclaimed, caressing her hand. “Ah, my daughter, this is a joyous moment.”
“Yes; all of me saved, babbo dear,” she said. “But indeed it came near being the other way.”
“Again Heaven be praised!” said Don Riccardo.
“Heaven and this gentleman,” Hera amended, turning to Mario. “The Honourable Forza—my father.”
“Your hand, sir!” cried Don Riccardo, going around her horse to where Mario stood. “Believe me, you have saved my life as well. My debt to you is so great that I can never hope to pay.”
Mario told him that it was not such a big debt. “In plain truth,” he added, “I was obliged to save Donna Hera in order to save myself. So it was the sort of activity, you see, that comes under the head of self-preservation.”
“Ah, is it so?” returned Don Riccardo, genially. “Nevertheless, sir, I shall look further into your report of the affair. To-night I shall sound it. In your presence we shall have the testimony of an eyewitness. At least we shall if you will give us your company at dinner, which, by the way, is waiting.”
“I am sorry, but to-night I cannot.”
“Then to-morrow, or Wednesday, Thursday, Friday?”