ef, 'I now
understand why Carlini stayed behind.' All savage natures appreciate a
desperate deed. No other of the bandits would, perhaps, have done the
same; but they all understood what Carlini had done. 'Now, then,' cried
Carlini, rising in his turn, and approaching the corpse, his hand on the
butt of one of his pistols, 'does any one dispute the possession of
this woman with me?'--'No,' returned the chief, 'she is thine.' Carlini
raised her in his arms, and carried her out of the circle of firelight.
Cucumetto placed his sentinels for the night, and the bandits wrapped
themselves in their cloaks, and lay down before the fire. At midnight
the sentinel gave the alarm, and in an instant all were on the alert. It
was Rita's father, who brought his daughter's ransom in person. 'Here,'
said he, to Cucumetto, 'here are three hundred piastres; give me back
my child. But the chief, without taking the money, made a sign to him
to follow. The old man obeyed. They both advanced beneath the trees,
through whose branches streamed the moonlight. Cucumetto stopped at
last, and pointed to two persons grouped at the foot of a tree.

"'There,' said he, 'demand thy child of Carlini; he will tell thee
what has become of her;' and he returned to his companions. The old man
remained motionless; he felt that some great and unforeseen misfortune
hung over his head. At length he advanced toward the group, the meaning
of which he could not comprehend. As he approached, Carlini raised his
head, and the forms of two persons became visible to the old man's eyes.
A woman lay on the ground, her head resting on the knees of a man,
who was seated by her; as he raised his head, the woman's face became
visible. The old man recognized his child, and Carlini recognized the
old man. 'I expected thee,' said the bandit to Rita's father.--'Wretch!'
returned the old man, 'what hast thou done?' and he gazed with terror on
Rita, pale and bloody, a knife buried in her bosom. A ray of
moonlight poured through the trees, and lighted up the face of the
dead.--'Cucumetto had violated thy daughter,' said the bandit; 'I loved
her, therefore I slew her; for she would have served as the sport of
the whole band.' The old man spoke not, and grew pale as death. 'Now,'
continued Carlini, 'if I have done wrongly, avenge her;' and withdrawing
the knife from the wound in Rita's bosom, he held it out to the old man
with one hand, while with the other he tore open his vest.--'Tho