"'They are not really going to kill me, Fra Marraccini, are they? Oh! my sweet mother! Oh! my dear father! and my little brother Adrian, too, shall I never see you any more?' exclaimed Attilio, as he was dragged out by the guard. "'Remember what I have said and taught you," whispered the priest; 'take courage, and be a Christian.' "'Yes, padre, and a Tuscan, too!' replied Attilio, as they were conducted from the dark passages and vaults of the ancient castle into one of the dry ditches, where the moon was shining in all her brilliance--yes, gloriously, as now she shines upon this tropical sea. "There, between the high walls of the dry ditch, were several Austrian officers in their white uniforms, with long boots and black varnished helmets, surmounted by plumes or spikes, and double-headed eagles, and all apparently flushed with wine. "Beyond them were twelve Croats under arms, drawn in a single rank across the ditch. "'Corporal Schwartz,' said the count, as he opened a letter, 'unlock the prisoner's chains.' "As they were taken off and flung rattling aside, the courage of Father Marraccini rose. "Bareheaded before this imposing group, whose breasts were covered with imperial orders and medals, stood Attilio, with his dark eyes cast down, his crossed hands on his breast, humble, but courageous. "'He looked so fair and handsome!' says the kind padre, in an account he wrote of this affair. 'The moonlight silvered him from head to foot, and made him look like an angel. The boy was very sad, but at the same time calm. No entreaty passed his lips to be allowed to look once more upon his parents' faces. All he said was, "Don't leave me any more--oh! see to what a pass they have brought me!"' "'Priest, bring the boy forward,' said Count Rudolf, imperiously. "Marracini did so, and so clear and bright was the moonlight, which poured aslant over the grand masses of the ancient castle of Pistoja, on the glittering arms of the ferocious-looking Croats, on the white uniforms and glittering accoutrements of the Austrian officers, and on the boy's pale face, that the count could read distinctly, as if at noon-day, the brief but pompous despatch of the general commanding at Prato. "'Attilio Manfredi,' said he, 'listen! Your sentence has come hither in German, but I shall read it to you in Italian.' "The boy bowed, played nervously with his hands, and said: "'Dio il voglia, Signor Colonello--se piace a Dio!' ('God willing--if it please God!')