ted some person in the throng by a nod of his head "tell him to
come hither--I have a message for him."

The gendarmes looked at one another, and then at the swaying crowd
about them in perplexity--they did not understand.

Carmelo, without wasting more words upon them, raised himself as
uprightly as he could in his strained and bound position, and called
aloud:

"Luigi Biscardi! Capitano! Oh he--you thought I could not see you! Dio!
I should know you in hell! Come near, I have a parting word for you."

At the sound of his strong harsh voice, a silence half of terror, half
of awe, fell upon the chattering multitude. There was a sudden stir as
the people made way for a young man to pass through their ranks--a
slight, tall, rather handsome fellow, with a pale face and cold,
sneering eyes. He was dressed with fastidious care and neatness in the
uniform of the Bersagliere--and he elbowed his way along with the easy
audacity of a privileged dandy. He came close up to the brigand and
spoke carelessly, with a slightly mocking smile playing round the
corners of his mouth.

"Ebbene!" he said, "you are caught at last, Carmelo! You called
me--here I am. What do you want with me, rascal?"

Neri uttered a ferocious curse between his teeth, and looked for an
instant like a wild beast ready to spring.

"You betrayed me," he said in fierce yet smothered accents--"you
followed me--you hunted me down! Teresa told me all. Yes--she belongs
to you now--you have got your wish. Go and take her--she waits for
you--make her speak and tell you how she loves you--IF YOU CAN!"

Something jeering and withal threatening in the ruffian's look,
evidently startled the young officer, for he exclaimed hastily:

"What do you mean, wretch? You have not--my God! you have not KILLED
her?"

Carmelo broke into a loud savage laugh.

"She has killed herself!" he cried, exultingly. "Ha, ha, I thought you
would wince at that! She snatched my knife and stabbed herself with it!
Yes--rather than see your lying white face again--rather than feel your
accursed touch! Find her--she lies dead and smiling up there in the
mountains and her last kiss was for ME--for ME--you understand! Now go!
and may the devil curse you!"

Again the gendarmes clashed their swords suggestively--and the brigand
resumed his sullen attitude of suppressed wrath and feigned
indifference. But the man to whom he had spoken staggered and seemed
about to fall--his pale face grew paler