s a mere bundle. An instant
later I heard once more the swishing of the water and the creaking of
the oar.

This fellow had done his work and had resumed his journey as quietly and
unconcernedly as if he were accustomed to clap a sack over a colonel of
Hussars every day of the week.

I cannot tell you the humiliation and also the fury which filled my mind
as I lay there like a helpless sheep being carried to the butcher's. I,
Etienne Gerard, the champion of the six brigades of light cavalry and
the first swordsman of the Grand Army, to be overpowered by a single
unarmed man in such a fashion! Yet I lay quiet, for there is a time
to resist and there is a time to save one's strength. I had felt the
fellow's grip upon my arms, and I knew that I would be a child in his
hands. I waited quietly, therefore, with a heart which burned with rage,
until my opportunity should come.

How long I lay there at the bottom of the boat I can not tell; but it
seemed to me to be a long time, and always there were the hiss of the
waters and the steady creaking of the oar. Several times we turned
corners, for I heard the long, sad cry which these gondoliers give when
they wish to warn their fellows that they are coming. At last, after a
considerable journey, I felt the side of the boat scrape up against a
landing-place. The fellow knocked three times with his oar upon wood,
and in answer to his summons I heard the rasping of bars and the turning
of keys. A great door creaked back upon its hinges.

"Have you got him?" asked a voice, in Italian.

My monster gave a laugh and kicked the sack in which I lay.

"Here he is," said he.

"They are waiting." He added something which I could not understand.

"Take him, then," said my captor. He raised me in his arms, ascended
some steps, and I was thrown down upon a hard floor. A moment later the
bars creaked and the key whined once more. I was a prisoner inside a
house.

From the voices and the steps there seemed now to be several people
round me. I understand Italian a great deal better than I speak it, and
I could make out very well what they were saying.

"You have not killed him, Matteo?"

"What matter if I have?"

"My faith, you will have to answer for it to the tribunal."

"They will kill him, will they not?"

"Yes, but it is not for you or me to take it out of their hands."

"Tut! I have not killed him. Dead men do not bite, and his cursed teeth
met in my thumb as I pulled the