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Orso, after saying a few words of excuse for Colomba, repeated that he now believed Tomaso to be the sole culprit. The prefect had risen to take his leave. "If it were not so late," said he, "I would suggest your coming over with me to fetch Miss Nevil's letter. At the same time you might repeat to M. Barricini what you have just said to me, and the whole thing would be settled."
"The dagger is beautiful," said Miss Lydia. "But it is a family weapon, I can not accept it!" "It's not my father's dagger," exclaimed Colomba eagerly; "it was given to one of mother's ancestors by King Theodore. If the signorina will accept it, she will give us great pleasure." "Come, Miss Lydia," said Orso, "don't scorn a king's dagger!"
With the other she slightly raised her wounded brother's head. "No, brother," she replied. "She did not give me any letter for you. But are you still thinking about Miss Nevil? You must love her very much!" "Love her, Colomba! But but now she may despise me!" At this point Miss Nevil made a struggle to withdraw her fingers. But it was no easy matter to get Colomba to slacken her grasp.
Orso chose the canto of the Inferno, containing the episode of Francesca da Rimini, and began to read, as impressively as he was able, the glorious tiercets which so admirably express the risk run by two young persons who venture to read a love-story together. As he read on Colomba drew nearer to the table, and raised her head, which she had kept lowered.
When this officer had concluded his deposition, Colomba, half-distracted, cast herself at his feet, and besought him, by all he held most sacred, to say whether he had not left the mayor alone for a single moment.
She cast one fierce look at the Barricini dwelling, and then, with a smile, she turned to her guests. "Let us go in and drink our coffee," she said. The story the bandit's Iris had to tell was a long one. Her narrative, translated literally into Italian by Colomba, and then into English by Miss Nevil, wrung more than one oath from the colonel, more than one sigh from the fair Lydia.
"Do you know you make my brother do everything you choose, Miss Lydia?" said Colomba, laughing. "I won't let you see him any more." "I hope this unlucky business will soon be cleared up, and that you will have nothing more to fear," said Miss Nevil. "I shall be so happy, when we go away, to know justice has been done you, and that both your loyalty and your bravery have been acknowledged."
"Is it the custom here," inquired Miss Nevil, with a smile, "for young ladies to wear such little instruments as these in their bodices?" "It is," answered Colomba, with a sigh. "There are so many wicked people about!" "And would you really have the courage to strike with it, like this?" And Miss Nevil, dagger in hand, made a gesture of stabbing from above, as actors do on the stage.
"No, brother, I couldn't compose it beforehand. I stand before the dead person, and I think about those he has left behind him. The tears spring into my eyes, and then I sing whatever comes into my head." All this was said so simply that it was quite impossible to suspect Signorina Colomba of the smallest poetic vanity. Orso let himself be persuaded, and went with his sister to Pietri's house.
But Vincentello had his ready, and was rushing back into the room, when Colomba, snatching up a gun convinced him that the struggle must be unequal. At the same time the prefect threw himself between the combatants. "We shall soon meet, Ors' Anton'!" shouted Orlanduccio, and slamming the door of the room violently, he turned the key in the lock, so as to insure himself time to retreat.
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