“Yes; he is the celebrated Signor Zanoni, about whom all the great ladies have gone mad. They say he is so rich!--oh! so much richer than any of the Inglesi!--not but what the Signor Glyndon--” “Cease!” interrupted the young actress. “Zanoni! Speak of the Englishman no more.” The carriage was now entering that more lonely and remote part of the city in which Viola’s house was situated, when it suddenly stopped. Gionetta, in alarm, thrust her head out of the window, and perceived, by the pale light of the moon, that the driver, torn from his seat, was already pinioned in the arms of two men; the next moment the door was opened violently, and a tall figure, masked and mantled, appeared. “Fear not, fairest Pisani,” said he, gently; “no ill shall befall you.” As he spoke, he wound his arm round the form of the fair actress, and endeavoured to lift her from the carriage. But Gionetta was no ordinary ally,--she thrust back the assailant with a force that astonished him, and followed the shock by a volley of the most energetic reprobation. The mask drew back, and composed his disordered mantle. “By the body of Bacchus!” said he, half laughing, “she is well protected. Here, Luigi, Giovanni! seize the hag!--quick!--why loiter ye?” The mask retired from the door, and another and yet taller form presented itself. “Be calm, Viola Pisani,” said he, in a low voice; “with me you are indeed safe!” He lifted his mask as he spoke, and showed the noble features of Zanoni. “Be calm, be hushed,--I can save you.” He vanished, leaving Viola lost in surprise, agitation, and delight. There were, in all, nine masks: two were engaged with the driver; one stood at the head of the carriage-horses; a fourth guarded the well-trained steeds of the party; three others (besides Zanoni and the one who had first accosted Viola) stood apart by a carriage drawn to the side of the road. To these three Zanoni motioned; they advanced; he pointed towards the first mask, who was in fact the Prince di --, and to his unspeakable astonishment the prince was suddenly seized from behind. “Treason!” he cried. “Treason among my own men! What means this?” “Place him in his carriage! If he resist, his blood be on his own head!” said Zanoni, calmly. He approached the men who had detained the coachman. “You are outnumbered and outwitted,” said he; “join your lord; you are three men,--we six, armed to the teeth. Thank our mercy that we spare your lives. Go!” The men gave way, dismayed. The driver remounted. “Cut the traces of their carriage and the bridles of their horses,” said Zanoni, as he entered the vehicle containing Viola, which now drove on rapidly, leaving the discomfited ravisher in a state of rage and stupor impossible to describe.