pride of Frosinone, who but a short time before I had beheld
sporting in her father's vineyard, so fresh and beautiful and happy!
Her teeth were clenched; her eyes fixed on the ground; her form without
motion, and in a state of absolute insensibility. I hung over her in an
agony of recollection of all that she had been, and of anguish at what
I now beheld her. I darted round a look of horror at my companions, who
seemed like so many fiends exulting in the downfall of an angel, and I
felt a horror at myself for being their accomplice.

The captain, always suspicious, saw with his usual penetration what was
passing within me, and ordered me to go upon the ridge of woods to keep
a look-out upon the neighborhood and await the return of the shepherd.
I obeyed, of course, stifling the fury that raged within me, though I
felt for the moment that he was my most deadly foe.

On my way, however, a ray of reflection came across my mind. I
perceived that the captain was but following with strictness the
terrible laws to which we had sworn fidelity. That the passion by which
I had been blinded might with justice have been fatal to me but for his
forbearance; that he had penetrated my soul, and had taken precautions,
by sending me out of the way, to prevent my committing any excess in my
anger. From that instant I felt that I was capable of pardoning him.

Occupied with these thoughts, I arrived at the foot of the mountain.
The country was solitary and secure; and in a short time I beheld the
shepherd at a distance crossing the plain. I hastened to meet him. He
had obtained nothing. He had found the father plunged in the deepest
distress. He had read the letter with violent emotion, and then calming
himself with a sudden exertion, he had replied coldly, "My daughter has
been dishonored by those wretches; let her be returned without ransom,
or let her die!"

I shuddered at this reply. I knew, according to the laws of our troop,
her death was inevitable. Our oaths required it. I felt, nevertheless,
that, not having been able to have her to myself, I could become her
executioner!

The robber again paused with agitation. I sat musing upon his last
Frightful words, which proved to what excess the passions may be
carried when escaped from all moral restraint. There was a horrible
verity in this story that reminded me of some of the tragic fictions of
Dante.

We now came to a fatal moment, resumed the bandit. After the report of
the