se
people?"

"You will hear everything from little Leone Rufo, who is wounded and
accompanies you to Brescia. Speak of nothing. Speak my name, and look at
me. I deserve two minutes of blessedness."

"Ah! my dearest, if I am sweet to you, you might have many!"

"No; they begin to hum a reproach at me already, for I must be marching.
Vicenza will soon bubble on a fire, I suspect. Comfort my mother; she
wants a young heart at her elbow. If she is alone, she feeds on every
rumour; other women scatter in emotions what poisons her. And when my
bride is with her, I am between them."

"Yes, Carlo, I will go," said Vittoria, seeing her duty at last through
tenderness.

Carlo sprang from her side to meet Angelo, with whom he exchanged some
quick words. The bugle was sounding, and Barto Rizzo audible. Luigi came
to, her, ruefully announcing that the volunteers had sacked the carriage
behaved worse than the Austrians; and that his padrone, the signor
Antonio-Pericles, was off like a gossamer. Angelo induced her to remain
on the spot where she stood till the carriage was seen on the Schio
road, when he led her to it, saying that Carlo had serious work to do.
Count Karl Lenkenstein was lying in the carriage, supported by Wilfrid
and by young Leone Rufo, who sat laughing, with one eye under a
cross-bandage and an arm slung in a handkerchief. Vittoria desired to
wait that she might see her lover once more; but Angelo entreated her
that she should depart, too earnestly to leave her in doubt of there
being good reason for it and for her lover's absence. He pointed to
Wilfrid: "Barto Rizzo captured this man; Carlo has released him. Take
him with you to attend on his superior officer." She drew Angelo's
observation to the first morning colours over the peaks. He looked up,
and she knew that he remembered that morning of their flight from the
inn. Perhaps he then had the image of his brother in his mind, for the
colours seemed to be plucking at his heart, and he said, "I have lost
him."

"God help you, my friend!" said Vittoria, her throat choking.

Angelo pointed at the insensible nobleman: "These live. I do not grudge
him his breath or his chances; but why should these men take so much
killing? Weisspriess has risen, as though I struck the blow of a babe.
But we one shot does for us! Nevertheless, signorina," Angelo smiled
firmly, "I complain of nothing while we march forward."

He kissed his hand to her, and turned back to his