“I like,” said he, “to lie at my ease.”

They hastened to satisfy him; then the Adjutant gave the signal to start, said adieu to Mateo, who did not respond, and descended with rapid steps towards the plain.

Nearly ten minutes elapsed before Mateo spoke.  The child looked with restless eyes, now at his mother, now at his father, who was leaning on his gun and gazing at him with an expression of concentrated rage.

“You begin well,” said Mateo at last with a calm voice, but frightful to one who knew the man.

“Oh, father!” cried the boy, bursting into tears, and making a forward movement as if to throw himself on his knees.  But Mateo cried, “Away from me!”

The little fellow stopped and sobbed, immovable, a few feet from his father.

Giuseppa drew near.  She had just discovered the watch-chain, the end of which was hanging out of Fortunato’s jacket.

“Who gave you that watch?” demanded she in a severe tone.

“My cousin, the Adjutant.”

Falcone seized the watch and smashed it in a thousand pieces against a rock.

“Wife,” said he, “is this my child?”

Giuseppa’s cheeks turned a brick-red.

“What are you saying, Mateo?  Do you know to whom you speak?”

“Very well, this child is the first of his race to commit treason.”

Fortunato’s sobs and gasps redoubled as Falcone kept his lynx-eyes upon him.  Then he struck the earth with his gun-stock, shouldered the weapon, and turned in the direction of the maquis, calling to Fortunato to follow.  The boy obeyed.  Giuseppa hastened after Mateo and seized his arm.

“He is your son,” said she with a trembling voice, fastening her black eyes on those of her husband to read what was going on in his heart.

“Leave me alone,” said Mateo, “I am his father.”

Giuseppa embraced her son, and bursting into tears entered the house.  She threw herself on her knees before an image of the Virgin and prayed ardently.  In the meanwhile Falcone walked some two hundred paces along the path and only stopped when he reached a little ravine which he descended.  He tried the earth with the butt-end of his carbine, and found it soft and easy to dig.  The place seemed to be convenient for his design.

“Fortunato, go close to that big rock there.”

The child did as he was commanded, then he kneeled.

“Say your prayers.”

“Oh, father, father, do not kill me!”

“Say your prayers!” repeated Mateo in a terrible voice.

The boy, stammering and sobbing, recited the Pater and the Credo.  At the end of each prayer the father loudly answered, “Amen!”

“Are those all the prayers you know?”

“Oh! father, I know the Ave Maria and the litany that my aunt taught me.”

“It is very long, but no matter.”

The child finished the litany in a scarcely audible tone.