aintance.

My meeting with Valeria on this occasion was too touching and full of
tender passages to be of any general interest. Valeria told me that she
was still a bride, that she had only been married a few months, and that
she had been compelled to become Croppo's wife against her choice, as
the brigand's will was too powerful to be resisted; but that, though
he was jealous and attached to her, he was stern and cruel, and, so far
from winning her love since her marriage, he had rather estranged it
by his fits of passion and ferocity. As may be imagined, the portrait,
which was really very successful, took some time in execution, the more
especially as we had to discuss the possibilities of Valeria's escape.

"We are going to be transferred to-morrow to the prison at Foggia," she
said. "If while we were passing through the market-place a disturbance
of some sort could be created, as it is market-day and all the country
people know me and are my friends, a rescue might be attempted. I know
how to arrange for that, only they must see some chance of success."

A bright thought suddenly struck me; it was suggested by a trick I had
played shortly after my arrival in Italy.

"You know I am something of a magician, Valeria; you have had proof of
that. If I create a disturbance by magic to-morrow when you are passing
through the market-place, you won't stay to wonder what is the cause of
the confusion, but instantly take advantage of it to escape."

"Trust me for that, _caro mio_."

"And if you escape when shall we meet again?"

"I am known too well now to risk another meeting. I shall be in hiding
with Croppo, where it will be impossible for you to find me, nor while
he lives could I ever dare to think of leaving him; but I shall never
forget you,"--and she pressed my hands to her lips,--"though I shall no
longer have the picture of the donkey to remember you by."

"See, here's my photograph; that will be better," said I, feeling a
little annoyed--foolishly, I admit. Then we strained each other to our
respective hearts and parted. Now it so happened that my room in the
_lacanda_ in which I was lodging overlooked the market-place. Here at
ten o'clock in the morning I posted myself; for that was the hour, as
I had been careful to ascertain, when the prisoners were to start for
Foggia. I opened the window about three inches and fixed it there; I
took out my gun, put eight balls in it, and looked down upon the square.
It