“I had hit the money-lender in the temple,” the bandit went on, “and that reminded me of Virgil’s lines: 

     . . . “’Liquefacto tempora plumbo
     Diffidit, ac multa porrectum, extendit arena.’

“Liquefacto! Do you think, Signor Orso, that the rapidity with which a bullet flies through the air will melt it?  You who have studied projectiles, tell me whether you think that idea is truth or fiction?”

Orso infinitely preferred discussing this question of physics to arguing with the licentiate as to the morality of his action.  Brandolaccio, who did not find their scientific disquisition entertaining, interrupted it with the remark that the sun was just going to set.

“As you would not dine with us, Ors’ Anton’,” he said, “I advise you not to keep Mademoiselle Colomba waiting any longer.  And then it is not always wise to be out on the roads after sunset.  Why do you come out without a gun?  There are bad folk about here—­beware of them!  You have nothing to fear to-day.  The Barricini are bringing the prefect home with them.  They have gone to meet him on the road, and he is to stop a day at Pietranera, before he goes on to Corte, to lay what they call a corner-stone—­such stupid nonsense!  He will sleep to-night with the Barricini; but to-morrow they’ll be disengaged.  There is Vincentello, who is a good-for-nothing fellow, and Orlanduccio, who is not much better. . . .  Try to come on them separately, one to-day, the other to-morrow. . . .  But be on the lookout, that’s all I have to say to you!”

“Thanks for the warning,” said Orso.  “But there is no quarrel between us.  Until they come to look for me, I shall have nothing to say to them.”

The bandit stuck his tongue in his cheek, and smacked it ironically, but he made no reply.  Orso got up to go away.

“By the way,” said Brandolaccio, “I haven’t thanked you for your powder.  It came just when I needed it.  Now I have everything I want . . . at least I do still want shoes . . . but I’ll make myself a pair out of the skin of a moufflon one of these days.”

Orso slipped two five-franc pieces into the bandit’s hand.

“It was Colomba who sent you the powder.  This is to buy the shoes.”

“Nonsense, Lieutenant!” cried Brandolaccio, handing him back the two coins.  “D’ye take me for a beggar?  I accept bread and powder, but I won’t have anything else!”

“We are both old soldiers, so I thought we might have given each other a lift.  Well, good-bye to you!”

But before he moved away he had slipped the money into he bandit’s wallet, unperceived by him.

“Good-bye, Ors’ Anton’,” quoth the theologian.  “We shall meet again in the maquis, some day, perhaps, and then we’ll continue our study of Virgil.”

Quite a quarter of an hour after Orso had parted company with these worthies, he heard a man running after him, as fast as he could go.  It was Brandolaccio.