Three days later Racoare came. Nicola was sitting on the stone bench in the garden under the lime-tree, smoking a pipe of fragrant tobacco. When he caught sight of the highwayman he sat gazing at him with startled eyes. Cozma came calmly along with his horse's bridle in his left hand. He wore top boots up to his knees with long steel spurs. A long gun was slung across his back. On his head was a black sheepskin cap. He walked unconcernedly as usual with knitted brows; his horse followed him with bent head. Vasile, the boyar's agent, came up to the stone seat, scratching his head, and whispered with a grin: "What do you say to this, master? Just take a look at him. He could bring you the devil himself!" Boyar Nicola could not take his eyes off Cozma. The highwayman stopped and said: "God be with you!" "I thank you," replied Vasile. "God grant it!" The boyar remained persistently silent. "H'm!" murmured Vasile. "You have come to see us, friend Cozma?" "I have come," responded Racoare. "On our business?" "Yes." Cozma spoke slowly, frowning; wherever he might be no smile ever lit up his face. "Ah, yes, you have come," said the boyar, as if awaking from sleep. "Vasile, go and tell them to prepare coffee, but bring wine at once." "Let them make coffee for one," said Cozma, "I never drink." Vasile went off grinning, after a side-glance at his master. "Ah, you never drink!" said the boyar with an effort. "So, so, you have come on our business--how much? Ah, I am giving fifty ducats." "Good!" said Racoare quietly. Vasile returned, smiling knowingly. The boyar was silent. "Eh," said Vasile, scratching his head, "how are you getting on?" "Good Vasile, go and fetch the purse from under my pillow." "No, there is no need to give me a purse," said the highwayman, "I have no need of money." "What?" murmured the boyar. "Ah, yes! You do not need? Why?" "The thing is to put the Sultana of Frasini into your arms--I hand you over the lady, and you hand me the money." "Let's be brief!" cried Vasile, passing his hand through his hair. "One party gives the lady, the other the money. What did I tell you? Cozma would fetch you the devil from hell. From henceforth the lady is yours." Racoare turned round, strode to the bottom of the garden, fastened his horse to a tree, drew a cloak of serge from his saddle, spread it out and wrapped himself in it. "Well! Well!" groaned Boyar Nicola, breathing heavily. "What a terrible man! But I feel as though he had taken a load off my mind." Vasile smiled but said nothing. Later, when he was by himself, he began to laugh and whisper: "Ha, ha! He who bears a charmed life is a lucky man!" The boyar started up as from sleep and looked fearfully at Vasile; then he shook his head and relapsed into thought. "Ah, yes!" he murmured, without understanding what he was talking about. When night had fallen Cozma Racoare tightened his horse's girths and mounted. Then he said: