There was no sound anywhere till the cocks crowed at dawn. An hour after sunrise he had the men whom he had captured brought before him. In one he recognised, as he expected to do, the peasant Alcide; the other two were neighbours of his, young, unintelligent, ill-looking boors who had followed Alcide’s lead. The dark-browed, lean, unwashed man scowled at him as he had done in the death-chamber of the old Adamo; his eyes were like jewels and scintillated dangerously. He had been disarmed when brought there, but his fingers fingered nervously at his hairy breast seeking the poignard which was always used to lie within his belt. Cyrille cross-questioned him minutely, but failed to get any confession out of him. “You took me in the act,” he said sullenly. “Make what you can of that.” In his own mind Alcide was certain that his niece had betrayed him; but he would let no word escape him which could be construed into confession or facilitate condemnation. The theft of the charcoal and game, and the intent to run them contraband, were evident, and he did not deny them; but he did not admit either. He left his accuser to collect evidence as he could. There was enough of it to justify Cyrille in sending him and his companions to the nearest guardhouse, which was a dozen miles on the other side of the woods. It would have been the wisest course to pursue, and Alcide would have had a year or more of prison; his companions, more excusable, as tempted by him, perhaps less. But his present judge was a man who held the creeds of Tolstoi; who abhorred the eye for an eye and tooth for a tooth of modern legislation; who had infinite compassion for the poor and ignorant, and even for the most vicious. He took a course which he thought would be just both for his employers and to the thief. “I could send you to take your trial,” he said in conclusion, “and your trial would undoubtedly end in your conviction. I perhaps shall do wrong if I spare you. But my employers leave me large discretion, and I shall exercise it in your favour. I confiscate the stolen charcoal; it is the property of my masters; and the game I shall send to the hospitals of Rome; but I will restore to you your carts and cattle, and I will set you free. All I ask of you is to offend no more.” Alcide’s face did not change; he shrugged his shoulders slightly; the other two offenders fell on their knees and blessed the saints, and swore their willingness to lead a cleanly life. “Of what are you thinking, Alcide?” said Cyrille, looking at the dark savage, sunburnt face of Muriella’s uncle, with its glittering eyes and its deep lines of dirt and smoke. “I was thinking that you have not learned much since you have come here!” replied the man in tones of rasping contempt. “You mean that I am a fool to spare you?” Alcide showed his white even teeth flashing in his swarthy face with a grin of satirical scorn. He did not answer in words.