“But, Colomba--That wouldn’t be at all proper on my part----”
“I see. With you women who live in towns, your great anxiety is to be proper. We village women only think of what is kind.”
“But it’s so late! And then what will your brother think of me?”
“He’ll think his friends have not forsaken him, and that will give him courage to bear his sufferings.”
“He knows you are with me. Come! Make up your mind. You were looking at his picture this morning,” she added, with a sly smile.
“No! Really and truly, I don’t dare, Colomba! Think of the bandits who are there.”
“Well, what matter? The bandits don’t know you. And you were longing to see some.”
“Come, signorina, settle something. I can’t leave you alone here. I don’t know what might happen to you. Let us go on to see Orso, or else let us go back to the village together. I shall see my brother again. God knows when--never, perhaps!”
“What’s that you are saying, Colomba? Well, well, let us go! But only for a minute, and then we’ll get home at once.”
Colomba squeezed her hand, and without making any reply walked on so quickly that Miss Lydia could hardly keep up with her. She soon halted, luckily, and said to her companion:
“We won’t go any farther without warning them. We might have a bullet flying at our heads.”
She began to whistle through her fingers. Soon they heard a dog bark, and the bandits’ advanced sentry shortly came in sight. This was our old acquaintance Brusco, who recognised Colomba at once and undertook to be her guide. After many windings through the narrow paths in the _maquis_ they were met by two men, armed to the teeth.
“Is that you, Brandolaccio?” inquired Colomba. “Where is my brother?”
“Just over there,” replied the bandit. “But go quietly. He’s asleep, and for the first time since his accident. Zounds, it’s clear that where the devil gets through, a woman will get through too!”
The two girls moved forward cautiously, and beside a fire, the blaze of which was carefully concealed by a little wall of stones built round it, they beheld Orso, lying on a pile of heather, and covered with a _pilone_. He was very pale, and they could hear his laboured breathing. Colomba sat down near him, and gazed at him silently, with her hands clasped, as though she were praying in her heart. Miss Lydia hid her face in her handkerchief, and nestled close against her friend, but every now and then she lifted her head to take a look at the wounded man over Colomba’s shoulder. Thus a quarter of an hour passed by without a word being said by anybody. At a sign from the theologian, Brandolaccio had plunged with him into the _maquis_, to the great relief of Miss Lydia, who for the first time fancied the local colour of the bandits’ wild beards and warlike equipment was a trifle too strong.