“Yes, I know him well, and have reason to know him?”

“Who is he?”

“Mario.”

“Mario again?  Great Heaven!”

Two days afterward Count Borelloni sat in his study, musing upon the strange occurrences of the few past months.  His thoughts dwelt upon Mario, who thrice had been his benefactor.

“I cannot account for it.  How intense, how absorbing, how wonderful must be his love for my daughter.  He has treated my scorn with kindness.  When I forbade him the house, he never came here.  I admire, I reverence so lofty a spirit!

“Where would I be now-where would my daughter be, if Mario had not been near to save us, if he, careless of his own life, had not been our preserver?  I wondered before.  Twice he had come before me-a genius-a preserver of myself and my child.  Now he comes again and saves me.  It is wonderful!  I am overcome.  Pride cannot resist such greatness of soul-such magnificent actions, and Stella adores him.  I do not wonder at it.  Shall I then refuse to make her happy?  A few short years are all that remain of life to me.  I wish to leave my child happiness as her best inheritance.  I can make her happy now.  I can make a return to Mario for his generous actions.  I can make myself happy in the contemplation of their joy.  All is over.  Farewell pride.  What is birth and wealth and pride, when compared to the glory of such illustrious actions?”

He sat down at his desk and wrote as follows: 

“Mario, you have conquered.  I have treated you with scorn and indignity.  You have returned it with kindness.  You have saved my own life twice, and twice have you saved the life of one for whose happiness I would die a thousand deaths.  Mario, I reverence your lofty spirit.  I admire such noble feeling-such bravery and generosity.  Come to my home.  It shall henceforth be yours also.  Come to my heart, which is proud to love and honor you.  Come, and Stella shall he the reward which you shall receive as the best and most priceless gift of the grateful Borelloni.”

He rose from his chair and called for Stella.  She came to him speedily.

“Stella,” said he, “I have at last found one to whom I can confide you, who will be your protector when I am gone.  What do you say to that?  You change color-you tremble.”

“O father, why now?  Why not wait for a time?  I am young.  I will not-I cannot leave you.”

“You need not leave me.  Your husband shall stay here, you both shall cheer my old age.”

“Father, I—­”

“Read this, my child.”

Stella glanced at it, read it hurriedly, and in a transport of joy flung her arms about her father’s neck and kissed him again and again, while the tears stood in his eyes as he embraced his daughter.

“Yes, Stella, all is over.  I bow before him and do him honor.  This shall go to him, and he will come here to receive his reward.”  He gave the letter to his servant, and again sat down to receive the thanks and witness the happiness of his daughter.