Blissful was the interview, and sad were the lovers to separate. But they had to depart, and soon Stella was at home.
Mario, filled with pleasing hope, looked at the beauty of the scene, and went out for a walk. He wandered toward the southern gate, and went out up a long avenue, where trees overhanging formed a long and shadowy archway. It was a still and peaceful walk at evening. He sat down at length behind the trunk of one of the trees, and fell into a reverie.
Soon he was roused by the sound of approaching footsteps. He looked down the road, and saw two men stealthily approaching, armed, and conversing earnestly in low tones. They stopped not more than two yards from him and sat down. Mario could not be seen on account of his concealed position.
"Federigo," said one, "this is bad business."
"What!" said the other—"a bad business?"
"I mean not bad, but dangerous. Now if it were only to take a few piastres, I would not care; but to kill a man, coldly and without provocation, is rather bad."
"But we get two hundred, you know?"
"Ah, there you are right. They will jingle pleasantly, will they not?"
The sound of a horse's steps was heard coming down the road. The men crept into concealment and were silent. Mario also preserved silence, and clenching his stout stick more firmly, waited the issue.
"He is coming," said one in an earnest whisper. "It is he-Borelloni."