ng, the Princess with knees drawn up,
hands clasping them, and eyes bent on the embers into which (for the
Corsican nights are chilly) Marc'antonio now and again cast a fresh
brand--that in time my own eyes began to grow heavy. They were
smarting, too, from the smoke of the burnt wood. Nat had fallen into
a troubled sleep, in which now and again he moaned: and always at the
sound I roused myself to ease his posture or give him to drink from
the pannikin; but, for the rest, I dozed, and must have dozed for
hours.

I started up wide awake at the sound of a footstep beside me, and sat
erect, blinking against the rays of a lantern held close to my eyes.
The Princess held it, and at Nat's head and feet stood Marc'antonio
and Stephanu, in the act of lifting his litter. She motioned that I
should stand up and follow. Marc'antonio and Stephanu fell into file
behind us. Each carried a gun in a sling.

"I will hold the light where the path is difficult," she said
quietly; "but keep a watch upon your feet. In an hour's time we
shall have plenty of light."

I looked and saw the sickle of the waning moon suspended over the
gulf. It shot but the feeblest glimmer along the edges of the
granite pinnacles, none upon the black masses of the pine-tops.
But around it the darkness held a faint violet glow, and I knew that
day must be climbing close on its heels.

There was no promise of day, however, along the track into which we
plunged--the track by which my comrades had descended to cross the
valley. It dived down the mountain-side through a tunnel of pines,
and in places the winter streams, now dry, had channelled it and
broken it up with land-slides.

"You do not ask where I am leading you," she said, holding her
lantern for me at one of these awkward places.

"I am your hostage, Princess," I answered, without looking at her, my
eyes being busy just then in discovering good foothold. "You must do
with me what you will."

"_If I could! Ah, if I could!_"

She said it hard and low, with clenched teeth, almost hissing the
words. I stared at her, amazed. No sign of anger had she shown
until this moment. What cause indeed had she to be angered? In what
way had my words offended? Yet angry she was, trembling with such a
gust of wrath that the lantern shook in her hand.

Before I could master my surprise, she had mastered herself: and,
turning, resumed her way. For the next twenty minutes we descended
in silence, w