“And the delight of escaping from your pursuers,” rejoined Castriconi; “is that nothing to you? How can you fail to realize the charm of absolute freedom in such a beautiful climate as ours? With this to insure respect,” and he held up his gun, “we are kings of everything within its range. We can give orders, we can redress wrongs. That’s a highly moral entertainment, monsieur, and a very pleasant one, which we don’t deny ourselves. What can be more beautiful than a knight-errant’s life, when he has good weapons, and more common sense than Don Quixote had? Listen! The other day I was told that little Lilla Luigi’s uncle--old miser that he is--wouldn’t give her a dowry. So I wrote to him. I didn’t use threats--that’s not my way. Well, well, in one moment the man was convinced. He married his niece, and I made two people happy. Believe me, Orso, there’s no life like the bandit’s life! Pshaw! You’d have joined us, perhaps, if it hadn’t been for a certain young Englishwoman whom I have scarcely seen myself, but about whose beauty every one in Bastia is talking.” “My future sister-in-law doesn’t like the _maquis_,” laughed Colomba. “She got too great a fright in one of them.” “Well,” said Orso, “you are resolved to stay here? So be it! But tell me whether there is anything I can do for you?” “Nothing,” said Brandolaccio. “You’ve heaped kindnesses upon us. Here’s little Chilina with her dowry ready, so that there’ll be no necessity for my friend the cure to write one of his persuasive letters to insure her marrying well. We know the man on your farm will give us bread and powder whenever we need them. So fare you well! I hope we shall see you back in Corsica one of these days.” “In case of pressing need,” said Orso, “a few gold coins are very useful. Now we are such old friends, you won’t refuse this little _cartouche_.[*] It will help you to provide cartridges of another kind.” [*] _Cartouche_ means a collection of gold pieces as well as a cartridge. “No money between you and me, sir,” said Brandolaccio resolutely. “In the world money is everything,” remarked Castriconi, “but in the _maquis_, all a man need care for is a brave heart, and a gun that carries true.” “I don’t want to leave you without giving you something to remember me by,” persisted Orso. “Come, Brandolaccio, what can I leave with you?” The bandit scratched his head and cast a sidelong glance at Orso’s gun. “By my faith, if I dared--but no! you’re too fond of it.” “What would you like?” “Nothing! ‘Tisn’t anything at all. It’s knowing how to use it as well. I keep thinking of that devil of a double-shot of yours--and with only one hand, too! Oh! that never could happen twice over!” “Is it the gun you fancy? I bought it for you. But see you don’t use it more than you are obliged.” “Oh, I won’t promise to make as good use of it as you. But make your mind easy. When any other man has it, you may be certain it’s all over with Brando Savelli.”