rves.
Come, thief, the ten ducats without more ado, or I'll burn your nest of
infamy and hang you above the ruins."

He cowered and shrivelled. Then he scuttled within doors to fetch the
money, whilst Galeotto laughed deep in his throat.

"You are well-advised," said I, when the rogue returned and handed me
the ducats. "I told you I should come back to present my reckoning. Be
warned by this."

As we rode on Galeotto laughed again. "Body of Satan! There is a
thoroughness about you, Agustino. As a hermit you did not spare
yourself; and now as a tyrant you do not seem likely to spare others."

"It is the Anguissola way," said Gervasio quietly.

"You mistake," said I. "I conceive myself in the world for some good
purpose, and the act you have witnessed is a part of it. It was not a
revengeful deed. Vengeance would have taken a harsher course. It was
justice, and justice is righteous."

"Particularly a justice that puts ten ducats in your pocket," laughed
Galeotto.

"There, again, you mistake me," said I. "My aim is that thieves be
mulcted to the end that the poor shall profit." And I drew rein again.

A little crowd had gathered about us, mostly of very ragged, half-clad
people, for this village of Pojetta was a very poverty-stricken place.
Into that little crowd I flung the ten ducats--with the consequence
that on the instant it became a seething, howling, snarling, quarrelling
mass. In the twinkling of an eye a couple of heads were cracked and
blood was flowing, so that to quell the riot my charity had provoked, I
was forced to spur my horse forward and bid them with threats disperse.

"And I think now," said Galeotto when it was done, "that you are just as
reckless in the manner of doing charity. For the future, Agostino, you
would do well to appoint an almoner."

I bit my lip in vexation; but soon I smiled again. Were such little
things to fret me? Did we not ride to Pagliano and to Bianca de'
Cavalcanti? At the very thought my pulses would quicken, and a sweetness
of anticipation would invade my soul, to be clouded at moments by an
indefinable dread.

And thus we came to Pagliano in that month of May, when the lilac was in
bloom, as I have said, and after Fra Gervasio had left us, to return to
his convent at Piacenza.

We were received in the courtyard of that mighty fortress by that
sturdy, hawk-faced man who had recognized me in the hermitage on Monte
Orsaro. But he was no longer in armour. He wore a