vant of my runaway young lady? He go hang! What----?'

Angelo struck his foot heavily on the stairs; the innkeeper coughed and
ran back, bowing to his guest. The chasseur cried, 'I 'll drink farther
on-wine between gaps!' A coin chinked on the steps in accompaniment to
the chasseur's departing gallop. 'Beast of a Tedesco,' the landlord
exclaimed as he picked up the money; 'they do the reckoning--not we. If I
had served him with the worth of this, I should have had the bottle at my
head. What a country ours is! We're ridden over, ridden over!' Angelo
compelled the landlord to sit with him while he ate like five
mountaineers. He left mere bones on the table. 'It's wonderful,' said the
innkeeper; 'you can't know what fear is.'

'I think I don't,' Angelo replied; 'you do; cowards have to serve every
party in turn. Up, and follow at my heels till I dismiss you. You know
the pass into the Val Pejo and the Val di Sole.' The innkeeper stood
entrenched behind a sturdy negative. Angelo eased him to submission by
telling him that he only wanted the way to be pointed out. 'Bring
tobacco; you're going to have an idle day,' said Angelo: 'I pay you when
we separate.' He was deaf to entreaties and refusals, and began to look
mad about the eyes; his poor coward plied him with expostulations,
offered his wife, his daughter, half the village, for the service: he had
to follow, but would take no cigars. Angelo made his daughter fetch bread
and cigars, and put a handful in his pocket, upon which, after two hours
of inactivity at the foot of the little chapel, where Angelo waited for
the coming of Vittoria's messenger, the innkeeper was glad to close his
fist. About noon Lorenzo came, and at once acted a play of eyes for
Angelo to perceive his distrust of the man and a multitude of bad things
about him he was reluctant, notwithstanding Angelo's ready nod, to bring
out a letter; and frowned again, for emphasis to the expressive comedy.
The letter said:

'I have fallen upon English friends. They lend me money. Fly to Lugano by
the help of these notes: I inclose them, and will not ask pardon for it.
The Valtellina is dangerous; the Stelvio we know to be watched. Retrace
your way, and then try the Engadine. I should stop on a breaking bridge
if I thought my companion, my Carlo's cousin, was near capture. I am well
taken care of: one of my dearest friends, a captain in the English army,
bears me company across. I have a maid from one of the vill