one morning my sweetheart awoke me that I might close the door after her
as usual. I had scarcely done so when I heard cries for help. I quickly
opened it again, and I saw the scoundrelly Torriano holding the widow
with one hand while he beat her furiously with a stick he held in the
other. I rushed upon him, and we fell together, while the poor woman made
her escape.

I had only my dressing-gown on, and here I was at a disadvantage; for
civilized man is a poor creature without his clothes. However, I held the
stick with one hand, while I squeezed his throat with the other. On his
side he clung to the stick with his right hand, and pulled my hair with
the left. At last his tongue started out and he had to let go.

I was on my feet again in an instant, and seizing the stick I aimed a
sturdy blow at his head, which, luckily for him, he partially parried.

I did not strike again, so he got up, ran a little way, and began to pick
up stones. However, I did not wait to be pelted, but shut myself in my
room and lay down on the bed, only sorry that I had not choked the
villain outright.

As soon as I had rested I looked to my pistols, dressed myself, and went
out with the intention of looking for some kind of conveyance to take me
back to Gorice. Without knowing it I took a road that led me to the
cottage of the poor widow, whom I found looking calm though sad. She told
me she had received most of the blows on her shoulders, and was not much
hurt. What vexed her was that the affair would become public, as two
peasants had seen the count beating her, and our subsequent combat.

I gave her two sequins, begging her to come and see me at Gorice, and to