So this great, big, bluff, burly, brusque, bearded, broad-shouldered, beetle-browed brigand came straight towards the place where poor David was; walking with great strides; and David, seeing all hope lost, stood still, and awaited the arrival of his formidable enemy. The consciousness of his utter helplessness filled him with despair, and his ignorance of Italian put it out of his power to disarm the fury or deprecate the wrath of his fierce pursuer. In the few moments that intervened between the first discovery that he was seen and the arrival of his enemy, his brain was filled with confusion, and his bewildered thoughts turned helplessly to his friends whom he had left behind. He thought of their grief. He thought, too, of his home. He thought, of his mother. That home, those friends, that loving, mother, he now might never see again. Farewell, all dear ones! Farewell, bright past! Farewell, sweet life, and glad light of day! Such were the thoughts, gloomy and despairing, that filled his mind, and tormented his heart; and at the moment that his pursuer entered the grove and stood before him, David looked up with pale face and frightened eyes, and something like a sob escaped him. The big, burly brigand stood before him, and eyed him from head to foot. He was very tall, and, indeed, to David he seemed gigantic, while his right hand held the rifle like a walking-stick. He looked at David in silence, and scanned him curiously all over; and David's eyes, which had at first sought those of his captor in timid entreaty, now sank before his stern gaze. "_Cosa volete?_" said the brigand. "_Donde venite?_" in a deep voice. "_Non capisco_," faltered David, bringing forth the only Italian that he knew. At this the brigand was silent, and again surveyed him. "_Parlate Italiano?_" he asked, at length. "No," said David, in a tremulous voice; for he understood the meaning of those words well enough. "Hm--" said the brigand, and then, "_Parlez vous Francais?_" "No," said David. "_Habla usted Espanol?_" asked the brigand once more, apparently quite curious to find out the nationality of his prisoner, so as to form some basis of communication with him. David shook his head. The brigand paused, and frowned, and stared fixedly at David, as though trying to gather from his looks and dress what his country might be. David's dress showed him to be a respectable youth, while his face might belong to any nationality; for his complexion was dark, and somewhat sallow, his eyes dark, his hair black and straight, and his frame slender. "_Sprechen sie Deutsch?_" asked the brigand, once, more returning to the examination. David shook his head. At this the brigand frowned, and once more relapsed into silence for some time. At length he made a further effort. "_Russo?_" he asked, in an interrogative tone, elevating his eyebrows. David shook his head. "_Turco?_" asked the brigand again, in the same tone and manner.