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You can say anything to the child, Ors' Anton'. She would let herself be cut in pieces rather than betray her friends," and then, fondly, he turned to the little girl, "That's it, you little hussy; a ban on you, a curse on you you jade!" "Where am I to go, Brando?" queried Orso in a faint voice. "Faith! you must choose; either to jail or to the maquis.
The sailor bent down, as if to see the compass more clearly, and tugged sharply at Miss Nevil's fur cloak. It was quite evident his lament could not be sung before Lieutenant Orso. "What were you singing, Paolo France?" said Orso. "Was it a ballata or a vocero? Mademoiselle understands you, and would like to hear the end." "I have forgotten it, Ors' Anton'," said the sailor.
In spite of the apparent inequality of their positions, the four actors in this scene greeted one another in terms of old and familiar friendship. "Well, Ors' Anton'," said the elder bandit to the young man, "so your business is settled the indictment against you has fallen through? I congratulate you. I'm sorry the lawyer has left the island. I'd like to see his rage. And how's your arm?"
Accordingly he held his way through the silent streets of the village, directly to the small and insecure building that contained all the unfortunate debt ors and some of the criminals of the county, and where justice was administered to such unwary applicants as were so silly as to throw away two dollars in order to obtain one from their neighbors.
"Where is he?" "Orlanduccio is close by, he's waiting for you! Go back, go back!" "Ho! Ho! So he's waiting for me! Did you see him?" "Yes, Ors' Anton'! I was lying down in the heather when he passed by. He was looking round everywhere through his glass." "And which way did he go?" "He went down there. Just where you were going!" "Thank you!" "Ors' Anton', hadn't you better wait for my uncle?
Do listen to the row the Padre is making with your gun, Ors' Anton'! Unluckily, it's as black as pitch, and nobody takes much harm from being shot at in the dark." "Hush!" cried Colomba. "I hear a horse. We're saved!" Startled by the firing, a horse which had been wandering through the maquis, was really coming close up to them. "Saved, indeed!" repeated Brandolaccio.
"What horse will you ride to-morrow, Ors' Anton'?" "The black. Why do you ask?" "So as to make sure he has some barley." When Orso went up to his room, Colomba sent Saveria and the herdsmen to their beds, and sat on alone in the kitchen, where the bruccio was simmering. Now and then she seemed to listen, and was apparently waiting very anxiously for her brother to go to bed.
But no della Rebbia knows the path that leads him to the jail. To the maquis, Ors' Anton'." "Farewell, then, to all my hopes!" exclaimed the wounded man, sadly. "Your hopes? Deuce take it! Did you hope to do any better with a double-barrelled gun? How on earth did the fellows contrive to hit you? The rascals must have been as hard to kill as cats." "They fired first," said Orso.
"Is that you, Ors' Anton'?" exclaimed the child, rather startled. "It is Signorina Colomba's song." "I forbid you to sing it!" said Orso, in a threatening voice.
"Well! he's not the sort of man to let himself be cheated of his dinner! . . . Is your uncle very fond of you?" "Oh, yes, Ors' Anton'. Ever since my father died, he has taken care of my whole family my mother and my little sister, and me. Before mother was ill, he used to recommend her to rich people, who gave her employment.
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