"You may use Italian," I answered angrily. "I can understand it more easily than you will use it to explain why you have done this wickedness." "He was very foolish," she said. "He tried to run away. And you were all very foolish to come as you did. We saw your ship while you were yet four leagues at sea. How have you come here?" "I came here," answered I, "being led by your hogs, and after shooting an assassin in disguise of a hog." "You have killed Giuseppe?" "I did my best," said I, turning and addressing myself to three Corsicans who had stepped from the bushes around me. "But whatever your purpose may be, you have shot my friend here, and he is dying. If you have hearts, deal tenderly with him, and afterwards we can talk." "He says well," said the girl, slowly, and nodded to the three men. "Lift him and bring him to the camp." She turned to me. "You will not resist?" she asked. "I will go with my friend," said I. "That is good. You may walk behind me," she said, turning on her heel. "I am glad to have met one who talks in Italian, for the rest of your friends can only chatter in English, a tongue which I do not understand. Step close behind me, please; for the way is narrow. For what are you waiting?" "To see that my friend is tenderly handled," I answered. "He is past helping," said she, carelessly. "He behaved foolishly. You did not stop for Giuseppe, did you?" "I did not." "I am not blaming you," said she, and led the way. CHAPTER XV. I BECOME HOSTAGE TO THE PRINCESS CAMILLA. "Silvis te, Tyrrhene, feras agitare putasti? Advenit qui vestra dies muliebribus armis Verba redarguerit." VIRGIL, Aeneid, xi. Ahead of us, beyond the rises and hollows of the _macchia_, rose a bare mountain summit, not very tall, the ascent to it broken by granite ledges, so that from a distance it almost appeared to be terraced. On a heathery slope at the foot of the first terrace the Corsicans set down poor Nat and spoke a word to their mistress, who presently halted and exchanged a few sentences with them in _patois_; whereupon they stepped back a few paces into the _macchia_, and, having quickly cut a couple of ilex-staves, fell to plaiting them with lentisk, to form a litter. While this was doing I stepped back to my friend's side. His eyes were closed; but he breathed yet, and his pulse, though faint, was perceptible. A little blood--a very little--trickled from the corner of his mouth. I glanced at the girl, who had drawn near and stood close at my elbow. "Have you a surgeon in your camp?" I asked. "I believe that a surgeon might save him yet." She shook her head. I could detect no pity in her eyes; only a touch of curiosity, half haughty and in part sullen. "I doubt," she answered, "if you will find a surgeon in all Corsica. I do not believe in surgeons." "Then," said I, "you have not lived always in Corsica."