"But there's a friend of mine somewhere
close by, and we must find her first."

"You friend is caught already, and both of you will sleep in jail
to-night!"

"In jail, you say? Well, that remains to be seen. But take me to her,
meanwhile."

The soldiers led her to the bandits' camp, where they had collected the
trophies of their raid--to wit, the cloak which had covered Orso, an
old cooking-pot, and a pitcher of cold water. On the same spot she found
Miss Nevil, who had fallen among the soldiers, and, being half dead
with terror, did nothing but sob in answer to their questions as to the
number of the bandits, and the direction in which they had gone.

Colomba threw herself into her arms and whispered in her ear, "They are
safe!" Then, turning to the sergeant, she said: "Sir, you can see this
young lady knows none of the things you are trying to find out from
her. Give us leave to go back to the village, where we are anxiously
expected."

"You'll be taken there, and faster than you like, my beauty," rejoined
the sergeant. "And you'll have to explain what you were after at this
time of night with the ruffians who have just got away. I don't know
what witchcraft those villains practise, but they certainly do bewitch
the women--for wherever there are bandits about, you are dead certain to
find pretty girls."

"You're very flattering, sergeant!" said Colomba, "but you'll do well to
be careful what you say. This young lady is related to the prefect, and
you'd better be careful of your language before her."

"A relation of the prefect's," whispered one of the soldiers to his
chief. "Why, she does wear a hat!"

"Hats have nothing to do with it," said the sergeant. "They were both of
them with the Padre--the greatest woman-wheedler in the whole country,
so it's my business to march them off. And, indeed, there's nothing
more for us to do here. But for that d----d Corporal Taupin--the drunken
Frenchman showed himself before I'd surrounded the _maquis_--we should
have had them all like fish in a net."

"Are there only seven of you here?" inquired Colomba. "It strikes me,
gentlemen, that if the three Poli brothers--Gambini, Sarocchi, and
Teodoro--should happen to be at the Cross of Santa Christina, with
Brandolaccio and the Padre, they might give you a good deal of corn to
grind. If you mean to have a talk with the Commandante della Campagna,
I'd just as soon not be there. In the dark, bullets don't show any
respect fo