By this time, Corvino, his captive, and four followers had passed up the
ravine, crossed the ridge, and descended into the crater.
On nearing the cluster of houses, they had been again challenged; this
time by the regular sentinel of the rendezvous--of which there were two,
one on each side. There was not much fear of these being found asleep.
They had been lately taught a lesson well calculated to keep them on the
alert, having seen two of their comrades summarily shot for neglect of
watch-duty. They were the two who had suffered the English captive to
escape. These had been tried, condemned, and executed, all within an
hour's time, after Henry Harding had been missed. Such is the code of
the banditti--its stringency being their best safeguard against surprise
and capture. A member of the band, placed over a prisoner, answers for
the keeping of him with his own life. No wonder the escapes of
_riscattati_ are so rare--scarcely ever occurring.
No dog's bark hailed the chief's return; only the wolf-howl of the
sentinel, three times repeated. Nobody came forth to welcome him. One
of his followers opened the door of the _capo's_ house, entered, and
struck a light, which he left burning in the chamber. The man then came
out, and the four sham shepherds scattered off to their respective
_pagliattas_.
Corvino was alone with his captive.
"Now, signorina," he said, pointing to the house; "behold your future
home! I regret I have not a grander mansion to receive you in; but such
as it is, you are its mistress. Allow me to conduct you to your
chamber."
With an air of assumed courtesy, he offered his arm, which the captive
made no movement to take.
"_E cosi_!" he exclaimed, taking hold of her wrist, and drawing her up
the stone steps. "Don't be so shy, lady. Step inside! You'll not find
it so uncomfortable. There's a chamber specially fitted up for you with
a sofa. You must be fatigued after your long march over the mountains.
Be seated, while I find something sweet to refresh you. Can you drink
_rosolio_? Stay, here's better: a bottle of sparkling _Capri_."
As he was talking, with his back turned to the door, a third individual
entered the apartment--a woman of considerable beauty, but with that
bold, fierce look that tells a sad tale. She had walked into the room
without noise, stealthily and catlike; and, still remaining silent, she
stood just inside the door--her glance fixed upon Lucetta Torreani, her
eyes scintillating, as though at each moment they emitted sparks of
fire. It was the woman who had betrayed Popetta, with the ambitious aim
of being her successor. At the sight of this new arrival, her hopes
seemed extinguished, and the look of concentrated rage with which she
regarded the young girl was fearful to behold. It caused the latter to
utter a cry of alarm.
"_Chi senti_?" asked the brigand, turning suddenly around, and for the
first time perceiving the intruder. "Ah! you it is! _Che tu sia
maladetta_! Why are you here? Off to your own apartment! Off, I say!
_Largo_! _Largo_! This instant, or you shall feel the weight of my
arm!"
The woman, awed by the threatening gesture, backed slowly out of the
room; but as she passed into the shadow of the corridor, the fierce
flashing of her eyes, accompanied by some words, low muttered, might
have told Corvino that there was danger in what he was doing. He was
too much engrossed with his evil design to think of it.
"Only one of my domestics, signorina," he said, turning once more
towards his captive. "She should have been to bed hours ago. 'Tis for
that I have scolded her. Don't let our little home-troubles make you
unhappy. Drink this--it will refresh you."
"I have no need of it," replied the girl, scarce knowing what to say, at
the same time pushing aside the proffered cup.
"But you have, signorina. Come, my fair girl--drink! Then for some
supper. You must be hungry, as well as fatigued."
"I cannot drink. I am not hungry. I cannot eat."
"What would you then? To bed? There's a couch in the next room. I am
sorry I have no maids to help undress you. She whom you have just seen
is not used to that kind of duty. You would prefer at once going to
rest? Is that it, signorina?"
There was no reply. The young girl sat on the sofa with her head
drooping down, till the chin touched her snow-white bosom. This was
partially exposed--the buttons having been torn from her bodice as she
was dragged along in the company of her captors.
There had been tears upon her cheek; but they were now dried, their
traces only remaining. She could not again weep. She had reached that
crisis of agony no longer to be relieved by tears.
"Come!" said the brigand, affecting an air of sympathy, like some
cunning serpent in the act of fascinating its victim. "Cheer up,
signorina! I acknowledge the rude fashion by which I have made you my
guest; but who could resist the temptation of having so beauteous a
damsel under his roof? Ah, Lucetta! though you knew it not, I have long
been your admirer; long been enslaved by your charms--that are
celebrated far beyond the mountains of the Romagna. I've myself heard
speak of them in the _salons_ of the Holy City. Ah! fair lady! being
your captive, can you blame me for making you mine?"
"What would you, signor? Why have you brought me here?"
"What would I, signorina? What but have you love me as I love you? Why
have I brought you here? Only to make you my wife!"
"_Madonna mia_!" murmured the girl, scarce listening to what he had
said. "_O Madonna santissima_! What have I done to deserve this?"
"To deserve what?" asked the bandit, suddenly changing his tone. "To
deserve becoming the wife of Corvino! You speak proudly, signorina.
'Tis true I am no grand _sindico_ like your father; nor yet a _povero
pittore_ like the cur from whose company I have snatched you. But I am
master of the mountains--and of the plains too! Who dares dispute my
will? You will find it law, my lady--ay, to the very gates of Rome."
After this outburst, the brigand paced for some seconds over the floor--
his step proud, strong, exultant.
"I love you, Lucetta Torreani," he continued after a time. "I love you
with a passion that does not deserve such cold repulse. You may not
like the idea of becoming a bandit's wife; but remember, you become also
a bandit's queen. There is not a plume in all the mountain land that
won't bend to you--nor a hat that shall not be taken off in your
presence. Throw aside your shyness, then, my pretty damsel! Don't have
any fear of losing caste by becoming wife to the chieftain Corvino!"
"Your wife! Never!"
"Call it by another name, then--if you prefer stickling about terms. We
don't have much formality in our mountain marriages, though we can get a
priest when we want one. If you prefer the ceremony in a simpler way,
I, for my part, shall have no objections to doing without the
intervention of the _curato_. About that you shall have your choice."
"Death, then, shall it be! I shall choose that."
"_Eh giusta_! I like your spirit, signorina. It pleases me, almost as
much as your personal appearance. Still it wants taming--just a little.
Twenty-four hours in my company will accomplish that; perhaps less.
But I give you the full allowance of twenty-four. If at the end of that
time you do not consent to have our nuptials celebrated by the
_curato_--there is one convenient--why, then we must get married without
him. You understand that?"
"_Madonna mia_!"
"No use calling upon her. She cannot save you, immaculate as she is
said to have been; nor any one else. No rescuing hand can reach you
here--not even the hand of his Holiness. Among these mountains, the
chieftain Corvino is master, as Lucetta Torreani shall be mistress."
Before the boast had fairly parted from his lips, a sound from without
caused the brigand to start--changing, as if by electricity, his air of
triumph to one of alarm.
"_Chi senti_?" he muttered, gliding towards the door, and placing
himself in an attitude to listen.
The howling of the Apennine wolf--"_wah, wah, oouah_!"--responded to by
some one coming along the _scorza_. Almost at the same time, it was
uttered on the other side--by the sentinel set towards the south, and
soon after answered in that direction.
What could be the meaning of this? Which of the band had been abroad?
He could think only of Tommaso, whom he had that morning despatched on a
particular errand. There could not be two Tommasos coming home--
simultaneously from the north and from the south!
He was not allowed much time for conjecture. Almost on the instant of
his taking his stand in the doorway a struggle was heard on both sides
of the house, followed by shots and shouts, amid which he could
distinguish the voices of his own sentries, loudly vociferating the cry,
"_Tradimento_!"