“Oh! he wouldn’t wish it! he’d be too much vexed about the bullet you put into his eye! Holy Madonna! What a hole! That’s a good gun, upon my soul! what a weight! That spatters a man’s brains for you! Hark ye, Ors’ Anton’! when I heard the first _piff, piff_, says I to myself: ‘Dash it, they’re murdering my lieutenant!’ Then I heard _boum, boum_. ‘Ha, ha!’ says I, ‘that’s the English gun beginning to talk--he’s firing back.’ But what on earth do you want with me, Brusco?” The dog guided him to the other field. “Upon my word,” cried Brandolaccio, utterly astonished, “a right and left, that’s what it is! Deuce take it! Clear enough, powder must be dear, for you don’t waste it!” “What do you mean, for God’s sake?” asked Orso. “Come, sir, don’t try to humbug me; you bring down the dame, and then you want somebody to pick it up for you. Well! there’s one man who’ll have a queer dessert to-day, and that’s Lawyer Barricini!--you want butcher’s meat, do you? Well, here you have it. Now, who the devil will be the heir?” “What! is Vincentello dead too?” “Dead as mutton. _Salute a noi!_ The good point about you is that you don’t let them suffer. Just come over and look at Vincentello; he’s kneeling here with his head against the wall, as if he were asleep. You may say he sleeps like lead, this time, poor devil.” Orso turned his head in horror. “Are you certain he’s dead?” “You’re like Sampiero Corso, who never had to fire more than once. Look at it there, in his chest, on the left--just where Vincileone was hit at Waterloo. I’ll wager that bullet isn’t far from his heart--a right and left! Ah! I’ll never talk about shooting again. Two with two shots, and bullets at that! The two brothers! If he’d had a third shot he’d have killed their papa. Better luck next time. What a shot! Ors’ Anton’! And to think that an honest poor chap like me will never get the chance of a right and a left two gendarmes!” As he talked the bandit was scanning Orso’s arm, and splitting up his sleeve with his dagger. “This is nothing,” said he. “But this coat of yours will give Signorina Colomba work to do. Ha! what’s this I see? this gash upon your chest? Nothing went in there, surely? No! you wouldn’t be so brisk as you are! Come, try to move your finger. Do you feel my teeth when I bite your little finger? Not very well? Never mind! It won’t be much. Let me take your handkerchief and your neckcloth. Well, your coat’s spoilt, anyhow! What the devil did you make yourself so smart for? Were you going to a wedding? There! drink a drop of wine. Why on earth don’t you carry a flask? Does any Corsican ever go out without a flask?” Then again he broke off the dressing of the wound to exclaim: “A right and left! Both of them stone dead! How the Padre will laugh! A right and left! Oh, here’s that little dawdle Chilina at last!” Orso made no reply--he was as pale as death and shaking in every limb. “Chili!” shouted Brandolaccio, “go and look behind that wall!”