Half frenzied by the sight of Lucetta borne off in the brigand's arms,
Henry Harding would have rushed instantly after, but the way was barred
by two of the band while the other two assailed him from behind. He had
enough on hand to defend himself from their quadrilateral attack; and
only by the activity of an ape, borrowed from an excellence in athletic
sports, often displayed at Eton and Oxford, was he enabled to show front
to all four. Fortunately, they had all emptied their pistols upon him,
without doing him any serious injury. By good luck, too, these were not
revolvers, their chief alone being thus provided. They now assailed him
with their less dangerous daggers; and, but for their number, he might
have fought them with success. He struggled to reduce it, but the
bandits were as active as he, and his sword thrusts and lunges were
spent upon the air. Full five minutes did the desperate strife
continue. He was fast losing breath, and must in the end have
succumbed. So was he thinking, when his eye fell on the hermit's cave,
towards which the strife had been tending. By an effort he broke
through the circle of his assailants, and placed himself in its
entrance. A simultaneous cry of disappointment escaped from the
brigands as they saw the advantage he had thus gained. With his sword
he might now defend himself against a score of stilettos.
As if by instinct, one and all resheathed their daggers, and commenced
loading their pistols. It was a fearful crisis; and the young
Englishman felt that his time was soon to come. The four men were in
front of him, guarding the only pass by which he might retreat. It was
a narrow gorge leading up to the entrance of the cave. He could not
possibly penetrate through the line without encountering their
stilettos, ready to be regrasped. Their pistols once charged, and his
doom would be sealed; for the cave was a mere alcove in the rock, where
he was placed like a statue in its niche. He had given himself up for
lost, but he would not be tamely slaughtered.
He was about to spring upon his assailants, and run the gauntlet of
their daggers, when shots and shouts came ringing from below,
accompanied by a shower of bullets that struck the rocks around him.
Startled by this unexpected volley, the four robbers turned quickly
round; and, without waiting to complete the loading of their pistols,
ran like scared hinds away from the cave.
The young Englishman saw that he was no longer in danger from their
bullets, but from those of the soldiers now seen coming up the slope.
Regardless of this, he rushed out, and started after the retreating
brigands. They had already entered the ravine at the back of the
mountain; and far away, scaling the steep on the opposite side, he could
see Corvino, with a white shape lying over his left arm. He knew
Lucetta Torreani. She was motionless, no longer making any struggle,
the skirt of her dress trailing on the loose stones that strewed the
mountain path. No cry came back--was she fainting, or dead?
The soldiers came up, with Guardiola at their head. They halted at the
top of the pass, reloading and firing at the few retreating brigands,
now far beyond the carry of their antiquated carbines. Already Corvino
was out of sight, carrying his captive along with him; and the others
soon after disappeared among the rocks.
Surely the soldiers would follow them? Who thought of asking this
question? It was Henry Harding, who wondered at the long halt they were
making by the head of the ravine. In a loud voice he repeated it.
Still there was no reply, and the pause continued. For the third time
he made the appeal in frenzied tones, addressing himself to Captain
Guardiola.
"You are mad, _Signor Inglese_," replied the officer, with a coolness
that came only from his cowardice. "I can understand your folly. As a
foreigner you cannot know the ways of these Neapolitan bandits. All you
have seen may be an artifice to draw us into a trap. As likely as not,
over yonder," he pointed to the pass through which the brigands had
disappeared, "there are two hundred of the rascals lying ready to
receive us. I am not such a fool as to have my followers sacrificed in
such an unequal encounter. We must wait for reinforcements from the
city."
By this time the _sindico_ had come up; too late to see his daughter as
she was carried in Corvino's arms over the crest of the opposite hill--
perhaps fortunate in being spared the spectacle. With agonised heart he
urged on the pursuit, joining his appeal to that already made by the
young Englishman. Appeals and reproaches were uttered in vain. The
cowardly commissary of the Pope--false lover that he had proved
himself--thought more of his own safety than that of the maiden to whom
he had dared to address his perjured speeches. With grief and
disappointment the father was beside himself; whilst those of his
acquaintances who had come up along with him were endeavouring to
comfort him. The young Englishman added his word of encouragement, with
an appeal to the townsmen that sounded strange in their ears.
"There are enough of you," he cried, "to pursue them to their lair!
Have you not spirit to go after these brigands, and rescue the daughter
of your _sindico_?"
The proposal, thus plainly made, was new to them. It caught like an
electric spark, and was hailed with a chorus of _evvivas_. For the
first time in their lives were these citizens inspired with an idea of
making resistance to banditti.
"Let the town be consulted," was their rejoinder; "let us first speak to
our fellow-citizens."
And, with this intent, they turned down the hill, headed by the
_sindico_; while Captain Guardiola and his troops continued gazing
across the ravine at the rocks and trees that concealed the retiring
foe--feared even in his retreat!