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"Listen, M. della Rebbia," said Miss Nevil, with some emotion. "As you are a child, I will treat you as I would treat a child.
She coloured deeply, rose eagerly, went a few paces forward, and then stopped short, apparently much confused. Orso was quite close to her, and was looking at her curiously. "Are you Orso Antonio della Rebbia?" said she in a tremulous voice. "I am Colomba." "Colomba!" cried Orso.
Signor della Rebbia, I am willing to believe you have had nothing to do with this detestable plot. But are you master in your own house? Will you have the door opened? Your sister may have to give an account of the strange relations in which she lives with a set of bandits." "Signor Prefetto!" cried Colomba, "I beseech you to listen to what this man has to say!
I ask all these questions because my father remembers you have promised him buck and boar and moufflon is that the right name for those strange creatures? We intend to crave your hospitality on our way to Bastia, where we are to embark, and I trust the della Rebbia Castle, which you declare is so old and tumble-down, will not fall in upon our heads!
Miss Nevil took a liking to her at once, and, as there was no room disengaged in the hotel, the whole of which was occupied by the colonel and his attendants, she offered, either out of condescension or curiosity, to have a bed prepared in her own room for Mademoiselle della Rebbia.
"If we were in the open country, and each of us had his gun, he wouldn't talk in that way." "Here's a pretty folly!" cried Brandolaccio. "Don't you quarrel with the Padre, Orlanduccio!" "Will you be good enough to allow me to leave this room, Signor della Rebbia," said the prefect, and he stamped his foot in his impatience. "Saveria! Saveria!" shouted Orso, "open the door, in the devil's name!"
She rather liked there guest, and was even beginning to fancy there was something aristocratic about him only she thought him too frank and merry for a hero of romance. "Lieutenant della Rebbia," said the colonel, bowing to him, English fashion, over a glass of Madeira, "I met a great many of your countrymen in Spain they were splendid sharp-shooters."
"Yes," responded Miss Lydia quickly. "It was my father, who is so accustomed to firearms, who said to me, 'There's Signor della Rebbia shooting with my gun!" "And you are sure those shots you recognised were the last?" "The two last, weren't they, papa?" Memory was not the colonel's strong point, but as a standing rule, he knew better than to contradict his daughter.
Colonel della Rebbia, now living on half-pay at Pietranera, had to defend himself against covert and repeated attacks due to the pettifogging malignity of his enemy.
His eyes never left the dead bodies, and as he walked, he knocked himself against the stones, against the trees, against every obstacle that chanced to lie in his path. The women's lamentations grew louder, and the men's curses deeper, when Orso's house appeared in sight. When some shepherds of the della Rebbia party ventured on a triumphant shout, their enemy's indignation became ungovernable.
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