"I am Mario. I thank Heaven I am here to prevent these ruffians from executing their design. Can I assist you to mount?"
He assisted the count to get on his horse again. By this time a troop of soldiers, alarmed by the pistol reports, had come to the place.
"Take those men with you," said Mario. "They have attempted the life of Count Borelloni. And accompany the count to the city. But what-you are wounded."
"No, the bullet only grazed my head. Mario you have saved my life. I am speechless. I feel more than I can utter now."
"Do not thank me. Thank Heaven who sent me here. Good-night, my lord." And turning, he was soon out of sight.
Stella sat in her chamber that night thinking upon her interview with Mario. She lost herself in conjectures about the future-so dark, so obscure, and yet it might be-so bright and happy. The noise below told her of her father's arrival home, and she ran down to welcome him.
"My father! How late you are! But what!" She started back in horror at the sight of his bloody forehead. "Are you hurt? are you wounded, father?"
"I was set upon by two ruffians, and would probably have been killed, if—"
"Attacked, wounded! O Heaven! You shall not go out alone, father, you must not. You are feeble, and cannot now defend yourself."
She made him sit down, and tenderly washed his wound, and stayed the blood till the doctor came. After the wound was dressed the doctor departed and Stella spoke.