“We are going to be transferred to-morrow to the prison at Foggia,” she said.  “If, while we were passing through the market-place, a disturbance of some sort could be created, as it is market day, and all the country people know me, and are my friends, a rescue might be attempted.  I know how to arrange for that, only they must see some chance of success.”

A bright thought suddenly struck me; it was suggested by a trick I had played shortly after my arrival in Italy.

“You know I am something of a magician, Valeria; you have had proof of that.  If I create a disturbance by magic to-morrow, when you are passing through the market-place, you won’t stay to wonder what is the cause of the confusion, but instantly take advantage of it to escape.”

“Trust me for that, caro mio.”

“And if you escape, when shall we meet again?”

“I am known too well now to risk another meeting.  I shall be in hiding with Croppo, where it will be impossible for you to find me, nor while he lives could I ever dare to think of leaving him; but I shall never forget you”—­and she pressed my hands to her lips—­“though I shall no longer have the picture of the donkey to remember you by.”

“See, here’s my photograph; that will be better,” said I, feeling a little annoyed—­foolishly, I admit.  Then we strained each other to our respective hearts, and parted.  Now it so happened that my room in the locanda in which I was lodging overlooked the market-place.  Here at ten o’clock in the morning I posted myself—­for that was the hour, as I had been careful to ascertain, when the prisoners were to start for Foggia.  I opened the window about three inches, and fixed it there:  I took out my gun, put eight balls in it, and looked down upon the square.  It was crowded with the country people in their bright-coloured costumes, chaffering over their produce.  I looked above them to the tall campanile of the church which filled one side of the square.  I receded a step and adjusted my gun on the ledge of the window to my entire satisfaction.  I then looked down the street in which the prison was situated, and which debouched on the square, and awaited events.  At ten minutes past ten I saw the soldiers at the door of the prison form up, and then I knew that the twenty prisoners of whom they formed the escort were starting; but the moment they began to move, I fired at the big bell in the campanile, which responded with a loud clang.  All the people in the square looked up.  As the prisoners entered the square, which they had to cross in its whole breadth, I fired again and again.  The bell banged twice, and the people began to buzz about.  Now, I thought, I must let the old bell have it.  By the time five more balls had struck the bell with a resounding din, the whole square was in commotion.  A miracle was evidently in progress, or the campanile was bewitched.  People began to run hither and thither; all the soldiers