m.

"_Parlate Italiano?_" he asked, at length.

"No," said David, in a tremulous voice; for he understood the
meaning of those words well enough.

"Hm--" said the brigand, and then, "_Parlez vous Francais?_"

"No," said David.

"_Habla usted Espanol?_" asked the brigand once more, apparently
quite curious to find out the nationality of his prisoner, so as
to form some basis of communication with him.

David shook his head.

The brigand paused, and frowned, and stared fixedly at David, as
though trying to gather from his looks and dress what his country
might be. David's dress showed him to be a respectable youth,
while his face might belong to any nationality; for his complexion
was dark, and somewhat sallow, his eyes dark, his hair black and
straight, and his frame slender.

"_Sprechen sie Deutsch?_" asked the brigand, once, more returning
to the examination.

David shook his head.

At this the brigand frowned, and once more relapsed into silence
for some time. At length he made a further effort.

"_Russo?_" he asked, in an interrogative tone, elevating his
eyebrows.

David shook his head.

"_Turco?_" asked the brigand again, in the same tone and manner.

Again David shook his head, wondering why the brigand should for
one moment imagine it possible that he could be a Russian or a
Turk.

"_Greco?_" asked the brigand, in a tone of voice which seemed as
though he was about to give it up as a hopeless conundrum.

When David shook his head at this, the brigand turned away in
disgust, and stood for a few moments meditating. David felt his
fate to be hanging in the balance, and stood in deep suspense,
watching with anxious eyes the face of his captor. But the heavy
beard and mustache, and the slouched felt hat, concealed all
expression; nor could David see anything there which could at all
lessen his anxiety. He thought, however, that if he could only
communicate in some way his mournful story, and let his captor see
that he had come here unintentionally, and only wanted to get back
to his friends, he might excite his compassion, if indeed there
was any compassion in the stern soul of this awful being. It was
David's only chance, however; and so, putting his hand timidly on
the brigand's arm, he pointed towards the shore, and waved his arm
towards Naples.

At this the brigand stared; but seeing that David persistently
pointed in that direction, he walked off through the grove for a
few paces, till h