ld
mountains.
"Gouache is studying geography," remarked Corona.
"Another of those Capuccini!" exclaimed Giovanni, instinctively feeling
in his pocket for coppers. Then with a sudden movement he seized his
wife's arm. She was close to him as they rode slowly along side by side.
"Good God! Corona," he cried, "it is Del Ferice!" Corona looked quickly
at the monk. His cowl was raised enough to show his features; but she
would, perhaps, not have recognised his smooth shaven face had Giovanni
not called her attention to it.
Del Ferice had recognised them too, and, horror-struck, he paused,
trembling and uncertain what to do. He had taken the wrong turn from the
main road below; unaccustomed to the dialect of the hills, he had
misunderstood the peasant who had told him especially not to take the
bridle-path if he wished to avoid Saracinesca. He stopped, hesitated, and
then, pulling his cowl over his face, walked steadily on. Giovanni
glanced up and saw that Gouache was slowly descending the road, still
absorbed in contemplating the landscape.
"Let him take his chance," muttered Saracinesca. "What should I care?"
"No--no! Save him, Giovanni,--he looks so miserable," cried Corona, with
ready sympathy. She was pale with excitement.
Giovanni looked at her one moment and hesitated, but her pleading eyes
were not to be refused.
"Then gallop back, darling. Tell Gouache it is cold in the
valley--anything. Make him go back with you--I will save him since you
wish it."
Corona wheeled her horse without a word and cantered up the hill again.
The monk had continued his slow walk, and was now almost at Giovanni's
saddle-bow. The latter drew rein, staring hard at the pale features
under the cowl.
"If you go on you are lost," he said, in low distinct tones. "The Zouaves
are waiting for you. Stop, I say!" he exclaimed, as the monk attempted to
pass on. Leaping to the ground Giovanni seized his arm and held him
tightly. Then Del Ferice broke down.
"You will not give me up--for the love of Christ!" he whined. "Oh, if you
have any pity--let me go--I never meant to harm you--"
"Look here," said Giovanni. "I would just as soon give you up to the Holy
Office as not; but my wife asked me to save you--"
"God bless her! Oh, the saints bless her! God render her kindness!"
blubbered Del Ferice, who, between fear and exhaustion, was by this time
half idiotic.
"Silence!" said Giovanni, sternly. "You may thank her if you ever
|