u hast
done well!' returned the old man in a hoarse voice; 'embrace me, my
son.' Carlini threw himself, sobbing like a child, into the arms of his
mistress's father. These were the first tears the man of blood had
ever wept. 'Now,' said the old man, 'aid me to bury my child.' Carlini
fetched two pickaxes; and the father and the lover began to dig at the
foot of a huge oak, beneath which the young girl was to repose. When
the grave was formed, the father kissed her first, and then the lover;
afterwards, one taking the head, the other the feet, they placed her
in the grave. Then they knelt on each side of the grave, and said the
prayers of the dead. Then, when they had finished, they cast the earth
over the corpse, until the grave was filled. Then, extending his
hand, the old man said; 'I thank you, my son; and now leave me
alone.'--'Yet'--replied Carlini.--'Leave me, I command you.' Carlini
obeyed, rejoined his comrades, folded himself in his cloak, and soon
appeared to sleep as soundly as the rest. It had been resolved the night
before to change their encampment. An hour before daybreak, Cucumetto
aroused his men, and gave the word to march. But Carlini would not quit
the forest, without knowing what had become of Rita's father. He went
toward the place where he had left him. He found the old man suspended
from one of the branches of the oak which shaded his daughter's grave.
He then took an oath of bitter vengeance over the dead body of the one
and the tomb of the other. But he was unable to complete this oath, for
two days afterwards, in an encounter with the Roman carbineers, Carlini
was killed. There was some surprise, however, that, as he was with his
face to the enemy, he should have received a ball between his shoulders.
That astonishment ceased when one of the brigands remarked to his
comrades that Cucumetto was stationed ten paces in Carlini's rear when
he fell. On the morning of the departure from the forest of Frosinone he
had followed Carlini in the darkness, and heard this oath of vengeance,
and, like a wise man, anticipated it. They told ten other stories of
this bandit chief, each more singular than the other. Thus, from Fondi
to Perusia, every one trembles at the name of Cucumetto.

"These narratives were frequently the theme of conversation between
Luigi and Teresa. The young girl trembled very much at hearing the
stories; but Vampa reassured her with a smile, tapping the butt of his
good fowling-piece,