"I donned a costume like that worn by him, and one dark evening I lay in wait for him and his escort. When I saw them coming through the solitude and darkness, _obscuri sub nocte_, I made a desperate attack upon Schreckenstein, who was walking a little ahead; but I was clever enough to strike off his hat with its waving plumes, and then to change my position so that I was standing where he should have been. Thereupon I stunned him with a violent blow with my sword hilt, and began to shout amid the clashing of swords and the shouts of the others, 'Help! help! death to the brigands!' so that Schreckenstein's men fell furiously upon their master and left him dead upon the spot, while I glided away into the bushes. The worthy nobleman could at least say that he was killed by his friends." "It was a bold stroke," said Ferrante, "but if I were to cast a backward glance upon my vanished past I could find a still more audacious exploit there. Like you, Fracasso, I had to deal with a chief of partisans, always well mounted and escorted. It was in a forest in the Abruzzi. I stationed myself in an enormous oak tree upon a great branch which stretched out over the road at a point which the personage in question must pass; and there I waited, musing. The sun was rising and its first rays fell in long shafts of pale light down through the moss-grown branches; the morning air was fresh and keen, enlivened by the songs of birds. Suddenly--" "Sh!" Procope interrupted him. "I hear footsteps: attention! it's our man." "Good!" muttered Maledent, glancing furtively about; "all is silent and deserted hereabout; fortune is on our side." They stood without speaking or moving; their dark, threatening faces could not be distinguished in the gathering gloom, but one might have seen their gleaming eyes, their hands playing nervously with their rapiers, and their attitude of breathless suspense; in the half-darkness they formed a striking dramatic group, which no pencil but Salvator Rosa's could adequately reproduce. It was in fact Benvenuto coming on at a rapid pace; as we have said, his suspicions were aroused, and with his piercing glance he maintained a constant watch in the darkness. As his eyes were accustomed to the uncertain light he saw the four bandits issue from their ambush when he was still twenty yards away, and had time to throw his cloak over his basket, and draw his sword, before they were upon him. Furthermore, with the self-possession which never abandoned him, he backed against the church wall, and thus faced all of his assailants. They attacked him savagely. He could not retreat, and it was useless to cry out as the château was five hundred yards away. But Benvenuto was no novice in deeds of arms, and he received the cut-throats with vigor.