“Signor Sigismondo, the proposal is fair; it has a touch of reason, I allow; but unluckily it does not suit my interests.  I am engaged in a delicate mission, and too much time has been already lost by the way to waste more without good cause.  I have great pity for poor Jacques Colis—­”

“Ha! thou knowest the sufferer’s name, then; thy unlucky tongue hath betrayed thee, Maso”

Il Maledetto was again troubled.  His features betrayed it, for he frowned like a man who had committed a grave fault in a matter touching an important interest.  His olive complexion changed, and his interrogator thought that his eye quailed before his own fixed look.  But the emotion was transient, and shuddering, as if to shake off a weakness, his appearance became once more natural and composed.

“Thou makest no reply?”

“Signore, you have my answer; affairs press, and my visit to the convent of San Bernardo has been made.  I am bound to Aoste, and should be happy to do your bidding with the worthy Giacomo.  I have but a step to make to find myself in the dominions of the house of Savoy; and, with your leave, gallant Capitano, I will now take it.”

Maso moved a little aside with the intention to pass Sigismund, when Pippo and Conrad threw themselves on him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides by main force.  The face of the Italian grew livid, and he smiled with the contempt and hatred of an inveterately angered man.  Assembling all his force, he suddenly exerted it with the energy and courage of a lion, shouting—­

“Nettuno!”

The struggle was short but fierce.  When it terminated, Pippo lay bleeding among the rocks with a broken head, and the pilgrim was gasping near him under the tremendous gripe of the animal.  Maso himself stood firm, though pale and frowning like one who had collected all his energies, both physical and moral, to meet this emergency.

“Am I a brute, to be set upon by the scum of the earth?” he cried:  “if thou wouldst aught with me, Signor Sigismondo, raise thine own arm, but strike not with the hands of these base reptiles; thou wilt find me a man, in strength and courage, at least not unworthy of thyself.”

“The attack on thy person, Maso, was not made by my order, nor by my desire,” returned Sigismund, reddening.  “I believe myself sufficient to arrest thee; and, if not, here come assistants that thou wilt scarce deem it prudent to resist.”

The Augustine had stepped on a rock the moment the struggle commenced, whence he made a signal which brought all the mastiffs from the convent.  These powerful animals now arrived in a group, apprized by their instinct that strife was afoot.  Nettuno immediately released the pilgrim and stood at bay; too faithful to desert his master in his need, and yet too conscious of the force opposed to him to court a contest so unequal.  Luckily for the noble dog, the friendship of old Uberto proved his protection.  When the younger animals saw their patriarch disposed to amity, they forbore their attack, waiting at least for another signal to be given.  In the mean while, Maso had time to look about him, and to form his decision less under the influence of surprise and feeling than had been previously the case.