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Updated: May 9, 2025
The man had caught the horse, but he had dropped both saddle and bridle, and seemed quite paralyzed with horror, while the horse, remembering the wound it had received during the night, and trembling for its other ear, was rearing, kicking, and neighing like twenty fiends. "Now then! Make haste!" shouted Orso. "Ho, Ors' Anton'! Ho, Ors' Anton'!" yelled the herdsman.
"No, I thank you heartily. They have discharged me, too!" "Yes, so I heard. But I'll wager you weren't sorry for it. You have your own account to settle too. . . . Come along, cure," said the bandit to his comrade. "Let's dine! Signor Orso, let me introduce the cure. I'm not quite sure he is a cure. But he knows as much as any priest, at all events!"
Ah! if the prefect hadn't thrown himself in front of Vincentello, we should have had one less to deal with." All this was said with the same calm air as that with which she had spoken, an instant previously, of her preparations for making the bruccio. Orso, quite dumfounded, gazed at his sister with an admiration not unmixed with alarm.
She lost no time about closing the garden-door, and slipping along the wall, so that the outline of her black garments was lost against the dark foliage of the fruit-trees, and succeeded in getting back into the kitchen a few moments before Orso entered it. "What's the matter?" she inquired. "I fancied I heard somebody opening the garden-door," said Orso. "Impossible! The dog would have barked.
Then off he started again, tearing up the slope almost as fast as he had come down it, to meet a man, who, in spite of its steepness, was rapidly descending. "Help, Brando!" shouted Orso, as soon as he thought he was within hearing. "Hallo! Ors' Anton'! are you wounded?" inquired Brandolaccio, as he ran up panting. "Is it in your body or your limbs?" "In the arm." "The arm oh, that's nothing!
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."
Orso swiftly prepared for self-defence, and the two men, taking deliberate aim, stared at each other for several seconds, with that thrill of emotion which the bravest must feel when he knows he must either deal death or endure it. "Vile coward!" shouted Orso.
But he made the colonel promise that when he went to Bastia he would come and stay in his modest manor-house, and undertook, in return, to provide him with plenty of buck, pheasant, boar, and other game. On the day before that of his departure Orso proposed that, instead of going out shooting, they should all take a walk along the shores of the gulf.
The father of Orso and Colomba della Rebbia has been treacherously murdered by two of the family of Barracini. Colomba is burning for vengeance, but her brother is an officer in the French army, and has been absent from Corsica for many years. When he returns she finds that his love for Lydia, the daughter of the Count de Nevers, has driven thoughts of revenge from his mind.
"If I had not been afraid of meeting you, Miss Nevil, I should have tried to get back to Pietranera, and I should have given myself up to the authorities." "And why were you afraid of meeting her, Orso?" inquired Colomba. "I had disobeyed you, Miss Nevil, and I should not have dared to look at you just then."
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