dly bring yourself to part with him?"

"Hardly, indeed. O stranger, it will tear my heart! But where am I to
bestow him? The Ceccalde will be here presently; beyond doubt they are
already climbing the pass. And for you also it will be awkward if they
catch you here."

I had not thought of this danger. "The valley below will be barred then?"
I asked.

"Undoubtedly."

"I might perhaps stay and lend you some help."

"This is the Dezii's private quarrel," he assured me with dignity.
"But never fear for us, O stranger. We will give them as good as they
bring."

"I am bound for Corte," said I.

"By following the track up to the _bocca_ you will come in sight of the
high-road. But you will never reach it without Nello's help, seeing that
my private affairs hinder me from accompanying you. Now concerning this
horse, he is one in a thousand: you might indeed say that he is worth his
weight in gold."

"At all events," said I smiling, "he is a ticklish horse to pay too little
for."

"A price is a price," answered Marcantonio gravely. "Old Stephanu
Ceccaldi, catching me drunk, thought to pay but half of it, but the
residue I took when I was sober. Now, between gentlefolks, what dispute
could there be over eighty livres? Eighty livres!--why it is scarce the
price of a good mare!"

Well, bating the question of his right to sell the horse, eighty livres
was assuredly cheap: and after a moment's calculation I resolved to close
with him and accept the risk rather than by higgling over a point of
honesty, which after all concerned his conscience rather than mine, to
incur the more unpleasant one of a Ceccaldi bullet. I searched in my
wallet and paid the money, while the Dezii with many sobs, mixed a
half-pint of wine in a mash and offered this last tribute to the
vindicator of their family honour.

So when Nello had fed and I had drunk a cup to their very long life, I
mounted and jogged away up the pass. Once or twice I reined up on the
ascent for a look back at the plateau. And always the Dezii stood there,
straining their eyes after Nello and waving farewells.

On the far side of the ridge my ears were saluted by sounds of irregular
musketry in the vale behind; and I knew that the second stage in the
Dezio-Ceccaldi _vendetta_ had opened with vigour.

Three days later I had audience with the great Paoli in his rooms in the
Convent of Marosaglia. He listened to my message with patience and to the
narr