ter was shifted; Castracane was bond, Andrea
free. Then Messer Alessandro went down the hill to what supper the
hermit could afford.

In about half an hour Silvestro, who had been fidgeting in the cave,
came out, restless to have stayed so long beyond sight or hearing of his
Pilade. His reception by Andrea was shocking. The gaping boy sprang
forward with his arms out.

"Ha! Here is a terrible affair," he wailed.

"Our Castracane is taken, and for your fault; he will be hanged, and for
you! Make your supper of it, you Jew-jerker. What sacrifice, Dio mio!
There has been nothing like it, I suppose, since Giulio Cesare kissed
Brutus, or Judas Gesu Cristo. You kissed him this morning; you know you
did! You always do, you blush-faced sneak! And for that kiss he has
taken your sins upon him, and is to be hanged. Fie, Judas, fie! Oh,
Madonna Maria, the terrible affair!"

So ending as he began, he danced about the hill-top, wringing his hands.

But Silvestro, very pale, came quickly up, and laid hold of him.

"Tell me all, Andrea," says he; "for I know nothing except that I love
Castracane and will save him. Who has taken him?"

"It is a lord--the Sotto-Prefetto--the hook-nosed gentleman with thin
eyebrows; him they call Messer Alessandro. Castracane is tied like a
netted calf--his hands behind him, and them to his neck. What's the good
of his strength? He is as strong as the town bull; but if he writhes his
hands he strangles, and if he thrusts his neck he chokes. Ecco!"

Silvestro was staring down into the valley. "Where is Messer Alessandro,
Andrea? Tell me quickly, for I can save Castracane."

"He is eating with the hermit in the wood. But what can you do?"

"You stay here," said Silvestro with decision; "that's what you can do.
I'll go down."

The sound of breaking through undergrowth was followed by rapping at the
hermit's door.

"What do you want, boy?" said the pious man to the ragged figure in the
dark.

"Messer Alessandro, my reverend--Messer Alessandro at once."

"Are you come about the Jew? He will bear no more. He is eating. He
tells me he knows more about the Jew than he does about our holy
religion--which is a dangerous state of things, except that he is sick
to death of him."

"It is not about the Jew, father," said Silvestro, out of breath. "Tell
him it is about--Ippolita."

"Va bene," said the hermit. "Stay where you are."

Messer Alessandro dropped his tools with a clatter, wiped his mouth