"Signor Claude," whispered Marco, in an agitated manner; "I can only contemplate with horror the probable issue of this affair. Be wary of using your sword," he observed, as I buckled it on. "Innocent as the signorina may be, appearances are against her; and the Masse carry matters with a high hand." Ere I could reply, we heard the following orders by the leader of the party:— "Surround the house, and shoot all who attempt to escape. Unsling carbines!" He at the same time leaped from his horse, and rushed up the staircase. A trampling of heavy boots, a jangling of steel spurs and scabbards succeeded—the door of our apartment was thrown open by our half-frightened, half-officious landlord, bowing humbly, with a candle in each hand; and our acquaintance of the preceding evening, the stern old Barone of Castello di Bivona pressed forward, followed by fifteen or twenty well-armed, but motley garbed troopers. "Traitress! a devil of a chase you have given us," said he, striking his sword on the floor. "Ahi! protect me, my father! they are come—those enemies of our peace—of my innocent love. Save me! or kiss me and let me die." "Die!" reiterated her father, in a dreadful tone. "Surrender all here, in the name of the king!" said the baron, in a loud voice; "in the name of Ferdinand of Naples and Sicily." "How now, my lord," I inquired, throwing myself forward; "this is a private apartment, and by what right do you make this intrusion?" "In right of the name I have mentioned. But who are you that assume this air of authority?" he asked, with a frown of surprise. "What my uniform proclaims: I am one whom you would do well in addressing more politely." "And your friend is a cavalier of Malta?" Marco bowed. "Well, gentlemen, I am a Neapolitan barone, a chief of the Masse, and commandant of Irregular Cavalry; empowered to capture this unfortunate fugitive, and execute upon her a sentence decreed by the chiefs in council at Cassano: the reward due to treason, and leaguing with the enemy. Signori, well aware as you must be of the utter futility of resisting the authority with which I am vested, it will be wiser to restrain the sorrow of this unhappy parent, than to attempt to defeat the views of justice. The girl must _die_! As for _you_, signor," he added, addressing me particularly—perhaps because I did not seem to care much for his "authority"—"we have met before; and if my followers are again obstructed, a formal complaint shall be sent to General Sir John Stuart, and you must abide the consequence. The edicts of the chiefs of the Masse, are, just now, the laws of the land. Seize the woman!" The soldiers advanced, the poor father threw himself before his daughter; I started; but Marco grasped my arm, and I observed that his dark cheek was turning pale: he bit his nether lip, and said:— "Resistance is indeed vain."