his is going to be the second night of my
sleeping away from my wife: I merely mention it. I pinch her, and she
beats me, and we are equal. But if you think of making me fight, I tell
you I won't. If there was a furnace behind me, I should fall into it
rather than run against a bayonet. I 've heard say that the nerves are in
the front part of us, and that's where I feel the shock. Now we're on a
plain footing. Say that I'm not to fight. I'll be your servant till you
release me, but say I 'm not to fight; padrone, say that.'

'I can't say that: I'll say I won't make you fight,' Angelo pacified him
by replying. From this moment Jacopo followed him less like a graceless
dog pulled by his chain. In fact, with the sense of prospective security,
he tasted a luxurious amazement in being moved about by a superior will,
wafted from his inn, and paid for witnessing strange incidents. Angelo
took care that he was fed well at the place where they slept, but himself
ate nothing. Early after dawn they mounted the heights above the road. It
was about noon that Angelo discerned a party coming from the pass on
foot, consisting of two women and three men. They rested an hour at the
village where he had slept overnight; the muskets were a quarter of a
mile to the rear of them. When they started afresh, one of the muskets
was discharged, and while the echoes were rolling away, a reply to it
sounded in the front. Angelo, from his post of observation, could see
that Vittoria and her party were marching between two guards, and that
she herself must have perceived both the front and rearward couple. Yet
she and her party held on their course at an even pace. For a time he
kept them clearly in view; but it was tough work along the slopes of
crag: presently Jacopo slipped and went down. 'Ah, padrone,' he said:
'I'm done for; leave me.'

'Not though I should have to haul you on my back,' replied Angelo. 'If I
do leave you, I must cut out your tongue.'

'Rather than that, I'd go on a sprained ankle,' said Jacopo, and he
strove manfully to conquer pain; limping and exclaiming, 'Oh, my little
village! Oh, my little inn! When can a man say that he has finished
running about the world! The moment he sits, in comes the devil.'

Angelo was obliged to lead him down to the open way, upon which they made
slow progress.

'The noble gentleman might let me return--he might trust me now,' Jacopo
whimpered.

'The devil trusts nobody,' said Angelo.

'Ah,