Lucia turned to the guard and explained hurriedly.  In the starlight she could see that he had a long scar across his face, and she felt very secure.

“I know your nephew, Roderigo,” she ended, “he helped me blow up the bridge in Cellino.”

The soldier nodded.

“I know about that, Senorina,” he said respectfully, “and the rest of your fine deeds.  You were born for the work it seems.  Move an inch and off comes your head,” he turned furiously on the man who had tried to edge away.  Then he continued in the soft, courteous tones he had been using.  “I hope some day you will do me the honor of telling me of the attack yourself,” he said.  “It is sometimes very lonely here while I am on guard.”

His gentle tone, and above all the flattering respect he showed, gave Lucia back her courage.

“Of course I will come,” she said, “just as soon as my little brother is better.  He fell and cut his head, and, and—­well, I guess I’d better be going back, he may awaken and be frightened.  Good night.”

“Good night, Senorina,” the soldier replied, “I am proud to have seen you.”

“Now then,—­” his voice became harsh again as he turned to his prisoners, “go along, one wink of your eyelid in the wrong direction and I will shoot.”

He marched them off quickly, and Lucia, because the affair seemed finished, started for home.

CHAPTER XXI

THE END OF THE STORY

“Tell me a story,” Beppi demanded when she was lying beside him once more, “I’m all awake again and my face hurts.”

“What shall it be about?” Lucia asked, stroking his hair.  She was still trembling from the reaction of her adventure, and Beppi’s warm little body snuggled close in her arms was comforting.

“Go on with the story about the soldier and the bad girl that teased him, and the good girl that was the fairy princess.”

“Very well, but shut your eyes.  Let me see,” Lucia began, “the soldier went off to the war, and when he came back he was wounded and the good girl took care of him, and they decided to be married and live happily ever after.  And the bad girl when she saw the poor soldier wounded was sorry she had teased him, and she never did it again.  And because she was good all kinds of nice things happened to her.  She found her fairy godfather, and he had a magic carpet, and first thing you know she was in the middle of a beautiful garden with her little—­”

“Oh, bother, I knew that wasn’t a real story,” Beppi protested.  “It’s just about Roderigo and Maria and the Captain and you.  And oh, Lucia, how silly you are, you called yourself the bad girl when really you’re the goodest in the whole world.”

“Am I, Beppino mio?” Lucia laughed.  “I don’t think so.”

“Well, I say you are,” Beppi replied, drowsily, “and the Captain thinks so too, so—­” He dropped off to sleep.