"Assuredly, yes--a sick man up-stairs, who has been earnestly begging that any gentleman who has a knowledge of the healing art, passing this way, would come and see him," answered Marco, with all the calmness he could command. "His fever, he says, may be infectious; and, at all events, I wish to have as little to do with him as possible. Perhaps, if you have a surgeon with your troop, you could send him up; or, if you have any skill, signore, you would see him." "I! My skill is to kill, not to cure," said the officer, laughing at his own wit, and completely deceived. It was with no small satisfaction that Marco saw him again moving on at the head of his men. The stranger soon after appeared. "I owe you a good turn, Marco Maffei," he said, with more cordiality than he generally exhibited. "The day may come when I can repay it. I shall not much longer trouble you with my society." Marco did not say what he thought--that the sooner he was gone the better. Day after day, however, passed by, the guest employing his time in making love, as before, to Chiarina, to her evident annoyance, though at this he seemed in no way disconcerted. At length, one evening after dark, a loud knock was heard at the door, and, when Marco opened it, an unshorn countenance was thrust in. "Come, signore, we have been watched, and shall have no little difficulty in rejoining our comrades if there is any delay," said a gruff voice from out of the hair-covered mouth. "You have been here too long as it is." The stranger, without demanding any explanation of the last remark, jumped up, shook Marco warmly by the hand, and, endeavouring to bestow a kiss on Chiarina's cheek, which she narrowly escaped, disappeared through the doorway. "A good riddance of bad rubbish!" thought Marco, as he muttered something between a blessing and a curse between his teeth. Chiarina was thankful that the stranger was gone, yet she was not happy; for 'Renzo had not been to the cottage for three days, and she could not tell what had become of him. She no longer concealed from herself that she loved him very dearly. Story 11--CHAPTER FOUR. 'Renzo was one day on his way over the mountains to visit Chiarina, when before him appeared the barrels of three or four rifles, and a voice in an authoritative tone ordered him to stop. As he knew that rifle bullets were apt to travel faster than he could run, he obeyed, and presently, found himself in the hands of a party of especially savage-looking bandits. After proceeding for a couple of leagues or more, 'Renzo found himself in a wild rugged part of the mountains, into which, though so near his home, he had never penetrated. Here a large band of ragamuffins were collected, all armed; to the teeth, some of them being peasants whom he knew by sight. He was welcomed by name as a future comrade. "Your comrade, indeed! I will be the comrade only of honest men," he answered boldly. At this reply there was a laugh.