By-and-by, however, my father rose from his knees and, leaving me to fasten the last bandages, strolled across the slope to see how his other patient had borne the journey. Just at that moment I heard again a voice calling to the Princess Camilla: "Ajo, ajo! O principessa, veni qui!" and simultaneously the voice of Billy Priske uplifted in an incongruous British oath. My father halted with a gesture of annoyance, checked himself, and, awaiting the Princess, pointed towards an object on the turf--an object at which Billy Priske, too, was pointing. It appeared that while his comrades had been attending on Giuseppe, the third Corsican (whom they called Ste, or Stephanu) had filled up his time by rifling our camp; and of all our possessions he had chosen to select our half-dozen spare muskets and a burst coffer, from which he now extracted and (for his comrade's admiration) held aloft our chiefest treasure--the Iron Crown of Corsica. "Princess," said my father, coldly, "your men have broken faith. I came to you under no compulsion, obeying your flag of truce. It was no part of the bargain that our camp should be pillaged." For a while she did not seem to hear; but stood at gaze, her eyes round with wonder. "Stephanu, bring it here," she commanded. The man brought it. "O principessa," said he, with a wondering grin, "who are these that travel with royal crowns? If we were true folk of the _macchia_, now, we could hold them at a fine ransom." She took the crown, examined it for a moment, and turning to my father, spoke to him swiftly in French. "How came you by this, O Englishman?" "That," answered my father, stiffly, "I decline to tell you. It has come to your hands, Princess, through violation of your flag of truce, and in honour you should restore it to me without question." She waved a hand impatiently. "This is the crown of King Theodore, O Englishman. See the rim of mingled oak and laurel, made in imitation of that hasty chaplet wherewith the Corsicans first crowned him in the Convent of Alesani. Answer me, and in French, for all your lives depend on it; yet briefly, for the sound of that tongue angers my men. For your life, then, how did you come by this?" "You must find some better argument, Princess," said my father, stiffly. "For your son's life then." I saw my father lift his eyes and scan her beautiful face. "My son is not a coward, Princess; the less so that--" Here my father hesitated. "Quickly, quickly!" she urged him. He threw up his head. "Yes, quickly, Princess; and in no fear, nor upon any condition. You are islanders; therefore you are patriots. You are patriots; therefore you hate the Genoese and love the Queen Emilia, whose servant I am. As I was saying, then, my son has the less excuse to be a coward in that he hopes, one day, with the Queen Emilia's blessing, to wear this crown bequeathed to him by the late King Theodore." "_He?_" The girl swung upon me, scornfully incredulous.