"You spoil Brusco, Mademoiselle Colomba. But he's a grateful dog. You
shall see. Here, Brusco," and he held out his gun horizontally, "jump
for the Barricini!"

The dog stood motionless, licking his chops, and staring at his master.

"Jump for the della Rebbia!" And he leaped two feet higher than he need
have done.

"Look here, my friends," said Orso, "you're plying a bad trade; and even
if you don't end your career on that square below us,[*] the best you
can look for is to die in the _maquis_ by some gendarme's bullet."

[*] The square at Bastia on which executions take place.

"Well, well," said Castriconi, "that's no more than death, anyhow; and
it's better than being killed in your bed by a fever, with your
heirs snivelling more or less honestly all round you. To men who are
accustomed to the open air like us, there's nothing so good as to die
'in your shoes,' as the village folk say."

"I should like to see you get out of this country," said Orso, "and lead
a quieter life. For instance, why shouldn't you settle in Sardinia, as
several of your comrades have done? I could make the matter easy for
you."

"In Sardinia!" cried Brandolaccio. "_Istos Sardos!_ Devil take them and
their lingo! We couldn't live in such bad company."

"Sardinia's a country without resources," added the theologian. "For
my part, I despise the Sardinians. They keep mounted men to hunt their
bandits. That's a stigma on both the bandits and the country.[*] Out
upon Sardinia, say I! The thing that astounds me, Signor della Rebbia,
is that you, who are a man of taste and understanding, should not have
taken to our life in the _maquis_, after having once tried it, as you
did."

[*] I owe this criticism of Sardinia to an ex-bandit of my
acquaintance, and he alone must bear the responsibility of
it. He means that bandits who let themselves be caught by
horse soldiers are idiots, and that soldiers who try to
catch bandits on horseback have very little chance of
getting at them.

"Well," said Orso, with a smile, "when I was lucky enough to be your
guest, I wasn't in very good case for enjoying the charms of your
position, and my ribs still ache when I think of the ride I took one
lovely night, thrown like a bundle across an unsaddled horse that my
good friend Brandolaccio guided."

"And the delight of escaping from your pursuers," rejoined Castriconi;
"is that nothing to you? How can you fail to realize the c