“Don’t think that you’ve seen the last of me, carissima,” I called out, as she turned away.  “I shall live on the memory of that kiss till I have an opportunity of repeating it.”

And as I watched her retreating figure with an artist’s eye, I was struck with its grace and suppleness, combined, as I had observed while she was helping me to load the donkey, with an unusual degree of muscular strength for a woman.

The spot at which this episode had taken place was so romantic, that I determined to make a sketch of it, and the shades of evening were closing in so fast that they warned me to hurry if I would reach the town before dark.  I had just finished it, and was stooping to pick up my air-gun, when I heard a sudden rush, and before I had time to look up, I was thrown violently forward on my face, and found myself struggling in the embrace of a powerful grasp, from which I had nearly succeeded in freeing myself, when the arms which were clasping me were reinforced by several more pair, and I felt a rope being passed round my body.

“All right, signors!” I exclaimed; “I yield to superior numbers.  You need not pull so hard; let me get up, and I promise to go with you quietly.”  And by this time I had turned sufficiently on my back to see that four men were engaged in tying me up.

“Tie his elbows together, and let him get up,” said one; “he is not armed.  Here, Giuseppe, carry his stick and paint-box, while I feel his pockets. Corpo di Baccho! twelve bajocchi,” he exclaimed, producing those copper coins with an air of profound disgust.  “It is to be hoped he is worth more to his friends.  Now, young man, trudge, and remember that the first sign you make of attempting to run away, means four bullets through you.”

As I did not anticipate any real danger, and as a prolonged detention was a matter of no consequence to a man without an occupation, I stepped forward with a light heart, rather pleased than otherwise with anticipations of the brigand’s cave, and turning over in my mind whether or not I should propose to join the band.

We had walked an hour, and it had become dark, when we turned off the road, up a narrow path that led between rocky sides to a glade, at the extremity of which, under an overhanging ledge, was a small cottage, with what seemed to be a patch of garden in front.

“Ho!  Anita!” called out the man who appeared to be the leader of the band; “open!  We have brought a friend to supper, who will require a night’s lodgings.”

An old woman with a light appeared, and over her shoulder, to my delight, I saw the face I had asked to be allowed to paint so shortly before.  I was about to recognise her with an exclamation, when I saw a hurried motion of her finger to her lip, which looked a natural gesture to the casual observer, but which I construed into a sign of prudence.

“Where did you pick him up, Croppo?” she asked carelessly.  “He ought to be worth something.”