"Very good; we will go off."

Betty looked at me with the utmost gratitude; and by way of proving it,
she pretended to have a good appetite. She had noticed that this was a
certain way of pleasing me.

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 Paul, 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.