“Your dagger?” said the Duke
eagerly to the brigand.
“Here it is.”
“Good. I hear the clatter of the
spring.”
“Do not forget me!” cried the
robber, who knew what gratitude
was.
“No more than my father,” cried
the Duke.
“Good-bye!” said Rinaldo. “Lord!
How he flies up!” he added to him-
self as the Duke disappeared.--“No
more than his father! If that is
all he means to do for me.--And I