has been a man of exemplary
honesty since--yesterday, and that under the seat of my automobile he
has, in a leather bag, a fortune of fifty thousand lire."

The three brigands gasped.

"He is determined, in any case," the banker continued, "to purchase your
little farm; but it seems to me that it would be a beautiful end to a
story that has not been without a certain aroma of romance if you, my
fair guest, were, so to speak, to throw yourself into the bargain. Think
it over. The mortgage lifted, a handsome husband, and plenty of money in
the bank.... Think it over. And in any case--the pleasure of a glass of
wine with you!"

They touched glasses. Across the golden bubbling, smiles leapt.

"Let us," said the second brigand, "leave the pair in question to talk
the matter over, while the rest of us go and attend to the purchase of
my barge."

"Well thought," said Asabri. "My children, we shall be gone about an
hour. See if, in that time, you cannot grow fond of each other. Perhaps,
if you took the bag of money into the house and pretended that it
already belonged to both of you, and counted it over, something might be
accomplished."

The youngest brigand caught the sullen one by the sleeve and whispered
in his ear.

"If you want her, let her count the money. If you don't, count it
yourself."

The second brigand turned to Asabri. "Excellency," he whispered, "you
are as much my father as his."

"True," said Asabri, "what of it?"

"Nothing! Only, the man who owns the barge which I desire to purchase
has a very beautiful daughter."

Asabri laughed so that for a moment he could not bend over to crank his
car. And he cried aloud:

"France, France, I thank thee for thy champagne! And I thank thee, O
Italy, for thy merry hearts and thy suggestive climate!... My son, if
the bargeman's daughter is to be had for the asking, she is yours. But
we must tell the father that until recently you have been a very naughty
fellow."

They remained with the second brigand long enough to see him exchange a
kiss of betrothal with the bargeman's daughter, while the bargeman
busied himself counting the money; and then they returned to see how the
sullen brigand and the pretty widow were getting on.

The sullen brigand was cutting dead-wood out of a fig tree with a saw.
His face was supremely happy. The widow stood beneath and directed him.

"Closer to the tree, stupid," she said, "else the wound will not heal
properly."

The