“Indeed, you look first-rate, dressed like that, Ors’ Anton’,” said the old servant, “and the smartest _pinsuto_[*] in Bocognano or Bastelica is not braver.” [*] Pinsuto, the name given to men who wear the pointed cap, _barreta pinsuta_. Orso wore his new clothes at breakfast, and during that meal he told his sister that his trunk contained a certain number of books, that he was going to send to France and Italy for others, and intended she should study a great deal. “For it really is disgraceful, Colomba,” he added, “that a grown-up girl like you should still be ignorant of things that children on the mainland know as soon as they are weaned.” “You are right, brother,” said Colomba. “I know my own shortcomings quite well, and I shall be too glad to learn--especially if you are kind enough to teach me.” Some days went by, and Colomba never mentioned the name of Barricini. She lavished care and attention on her brother, and often talked to him about Miss Nevil. Orso made her read French and Italian books, and was constantly being surprised either by the correctness and good sense of her comments, or by her utter ignorance on the most ordinary subjects. One morning, after breakfast, Colomba left the room for a moment, and instead of returning as usual, with a book and some sheets of paper, reappeared with her _mezzaro_ on her head. The expression of her countenance was even more serious than it generally was. “Brother,” she said, “I want you to come out with me.” “Where do you want me to go with you?” said Orso, holding out his arm. “I don’t want your arm, brother, but take your gun and your cartridge-pouch. A man should never go abroad without his arms.” “So be it. I must follow the fashion. Where are we going?” Colomba, without answering, drew her _mezzaro_ closer about her head, called the watch-dog, and went out followed by her brother. Striding swiftly out of the village, she turned into a sunken road that wound among the vineyards, sending on the dog, to whom she made some gesture, which he seemed to understand, in front of her. He instantly began to run zigzag fashion, through the vines, first on one side and then on the other, always keeping within about fifty paces of his mistress, and occasionally stopping in the middle of the road and wagging his tail. He seemed to perform his duties as a scout in the most perfect fashion imaginable. “If Muschetto begins to bark, brother,” said Colomba, “cock your gun, and stand still.”