“I don’t know English,” said Colomba, who was watching them with an air of the greatest curiosity, “but I’ll wager I’ve guessed what you are saying!”

“We are saying,” quoth the colonel, “that we are going to take you for a trip to Ireland.”

“Yes, with pleasure; and I’ll be the Surella Colomba.  Is it settled, colonel?  Shall we shake hands on it?”

“In such a case,” remarked the colonel, “people exchanges kisses!”

CHAPTER XX

One afternoon, a few months after the double shot which, as the newspapers said, “plunged the village of Pietranera into a state of consternation,” a young man with his left arm in a sling, rode out of Bastia, toward the village of Cardo, celebrated for its spring, which in summer supplies the more fastidious inhabitants of the town with delicious water.  He was accompanied by a young lady, tall and remarkably handsome, mounted on a small black horse, the strength and shape of which would have attracted the admiration of a connoisseur, although, by some strange accident, one of its ears had been lacerated.  On reaching the village, the girl sprang nimbly to the ground, and, having helped her comrade to dismount, she unfastened the somewhat heavy wallets strapped to his saddle-bow.  The horses were left in charge of a peasant.  The girl, laden with the wallets, which she had concealed under her mezzaro, and the young man, carrying a double-barrelled gun, took their way toward the mountain, along a very steep path that did not appear to lead to any dwelling.  When they had climbed to one of the lower ridges of the Monte Querico, they halted, and sat down on the grass.  They were evidently expecting somebody, for they kept perpetually looking toward the mountain, and the young lady often consulted a pretty gold watch—­as much, it may be, for the pleasure of admiring what appeared a somewhat newly acquired trinket, as in order to know whether the hour appointed for some meeting or other had come.  They had not long to wait.  A dog ran out of the maquis, and when the girl called out “Brusco!” it approached at once, and fawned upon them.  Presently two bearded men appeared, with guns under their arms, cartridge-belts round their waists, and pistols hanging at their sides.  Their torn and patched garments contrasted oddly with their weapons, which were brilliantly polished, and came from a famous Continental factory.  In spite of the apparent inequality of their positions, the four actors in this scene greeted one another in terms of old and familiar friendship.

“Well, Ors’ Anton’,” said the elder bandit to the young man, “so your business is settled—­the indictment against you has fallen through?  I congratulate you.  I’m sorry the lawyer has left the island.  I’d like to see his rage.  And how’s your arm?”

“They tell me I shall get rid of my sling in a fortnight,” said the young man.  “Brando, my good friend, I’m going to Italy to-morrow—­I wanted to say good-bye to you and to the cure.  That’s why I asked you to come here.”