While we were at dinner I ordered up one of the beaten postillions, and heard his story. He was a frank rogue; he said he had received some blows with the flat of the sword, but he boasted of having sent a stone after the Frenchman which must have made an impression on him. I gave him a paolo, and promised to make it a crown if he would go to Centino to bear witness against his comrade, and he immediately began to speak up for the count, much to Betty’s amusement. He said the man’s wound in the face was a mere scratch, and that he had brought it on himself, as he had no business to oppose a traveller as he had done. By way of comfort he told us that the Frenchman had only been hit by two or three stones. Betty did not find this very consoling, but I saw that the affair was more comic than tragic, and would end in nothing. The postillion went off, and we followed him in half an hour. Betty was tranquil enough till we got there, and heard that the count had gone on to Acquapendente with the two postillions at his heels; she seemed quite vexed. I told her that all would be well; that the count knew how to defend himself; but she only answered me with a deep sigh. I suspected that she was afraid we should have to pass the night together, and that I would demand some payment for all the trouble I had taken. “Would you like us to go on to Acquapendente?” I asked her. At this question her face beamed all over; she opened her arms, and I embraced her. I called the vetturino, and told him I wanted to go on to Acquapendente immediately. The fellow replied that his horses were in the stable, and that he was not going to put them in; but that I could have post horses if I liked. “Very good. Get me two horses immediately.” It is my belief that, if I had liked, Betty would have given me everything at that moment, for she let herself fall into my arms. I pressed her tenderly and kissed her, and that was all. She seemed grateful for my self-restraint. The horses were put in, and after I had paid the landlord for the supper, which he swore he had prepared for us, we started. We reached Acquapendente in three quarters of an hour, and we found the madcap count in high spirits. He embraced his Dulcinea with transports, and Betty seemed delighted to find him safe and sound. He told us triumphantly that he had beaten the rascally postillions, and had warded their stones off. “Where’s the slashed postillion?” I asked. “He is drinking to my health with his comrade; they have both begged my pardon.” “Yes,” said Betty, “this gentleman gave him a crown.” “What a pity! You shouldn’t have given them anything.” Before supper the Comte de l’Etoile shewed us the bruises on his thighs and side; the rascal was a fine well-made fellow. However, Betty’s adoring airs irritated me, though I was consoled at the thought of the earnest I had received from her.