Alcide, however, remained of his own opinion, and Lucio shared it. If a man and a woman, both young in years, did not talk of love, what could they talk of when they were together if not of others? Once Lucio got near enough to hear what they said, and to see that there were some feet of shallow water between them as they spoke, Muriella cutting reeds, and the steward, dismounted, leaning against a tree. “That is a grasshopper warbler,” said the latter, as a small bird flew up from the pool. “Take care not to cut where they have built.” “I see the nest,” she answered. “’Tis like a little basket, and the stalks run through it. There are many of these birds here.” “They must mean other than they say,” thought the eavesdropper; and he continued to listen, but all he heard was talk of birds and their haunts, and the like nonsense, until he saw the rider mount and move away. The part of the wood where the pools and marshes were, lay lower and more level, spreading onward till it reached the Vico lake, and poured into it its many trickling streams and hidden springs. In the swamps wild hogs and buffaloes waded, grunted, bathed, and bellowed, and over many a square league the brown spikes of the bulrush and the purple plumes of the reeds reigned in undisturbed sovereignty. A raised causeway of piles and stones ran across it, of which the foundations were of date remote as the Antonines; and once off that path such intimate knowledge as the woodlanders possessed was necessary before venturing amongst the network of _padule_. There was nothing on the surface of it to mark out the solid land from the bog. “I wonder your Northman does not want us to pay for the reeds!” said Lucio, showing himself a little later over the as yet unblossomed bulrushes. “No one need pay aught for aught,” replied Muriella. “So long as they take only in season, and do not cut to waste, there is nothing grudged.” Lucio snorted with scorn. “Whoever cut reeds by rule or asked leave to rake in dead wood? The marshes are free to us as to that bull-calf.” He pointed to a half-grown buffalo turning on its back in a shallow of sand and water. “So you say,” replied Muriella calmly. “The lords of the soil and the stream do not see it so.” “You unnatural wench! Do you go against your own folks and their rights?” “What rights are denied you?” “We have the right to take,” said Lucio furiously. “Your upstart whiteface makes a show of charity in giving us what is our own.” “The land is no more our own than it is yon bull-calf’s,” said Muriella, glancing at the uncouth play of the creature in the shallow water. “You insolent jade!” shouted Lucio. “I will duck you head foremost!” “Try,” said his niece, where she stood between the bundles of reeds; and she folded her hands on her bosom and waited, the edge of the sickle turned outwards.