"Even he, Princess. In proof I can show you King Theodore's deed of gift, signed with his own hand and attested." For the first time, then, I saw her smile; but the smile held no correspondence with the tone of slow, quiet contempt in which she next spoke. "You are trustful, O sciu Johann Constantine. I have heard that all Englishmen tell the truth, and expect it, and are otherwise mad." "I trust to nothing, Princess, until I have the Queen Emilia's word. That I would trust to my life's end." She nodded darkly. "You shall go to her--if you can find her." "Tell me where to seek her." "She lies at Nonza in Capo Corse; or peradventure the Genoese, who hold her prisoner, have by this time carried her across to the Continent." "Though she were in Genoa itself, I would deliver her or die." "You will probably die, O Englishman, before you receive her answer; and that will be a pity--yes, a great pity. But you are free to go, you and your company--all but your son here, this King of Corsica that is to be, whom I keep as hostage, with his crown. Eh? Is this not a good bargain I offer you?" "Be it good or bad, Princess," my father answered, "to make a bargain takes two." "That is true," said I, stepping forward with a laugh, and thrusting myself between the Corsicans, who had begun to press around with decided menace in their looks. "And therefore the Princess will accept me as the other party to the bargain, and as her hostage." Again at the sound of my laugh she shrunk a little; but presently frowned. "Have you considered, cavalier," she asked coldly, "that Giuseppe is not certain of recovery?" "Still less certain is my friend," answered I, and with a shrug of the shoulders walked away to Nat's sick-couch. There, twenty minutes later, my father took leave of me, after giving some last instructions for the care of the invalid. In one hand he carried his musket, in the other his camp-stool. "Say the word even now, lad," he offered, "and we will abide till he recovers." But I shook my head. Billy Priske carried an enormous wine-skin slung across his shoulders; Mr. Fett a sack of provender. Mr. Badcock had begged or borrowed or purchased an enormous gridiron. "But what is that for? I asked him, as we shook hands. "For cooking the wild goose," he answered solemnly, "which in these parts, as I am given to understand, is an animal they call the _mufflone_. He partakes in some degree of the nature of a sheep. He will find me his match, sir." One by one, a little before the sun sank, they bade me farewell and passed--free men--down the path that dipped into the pine forest. On the edge of the dip each man turned and waved a hand to me. The princess, with Marc'antonio beside her, stood and watched them as they passed out of sight. CHAPTER XVI. THE FOREST HUT.