“We are going to be transferred to-morrow to the prison at Foggia,” she said. “If while we were passing through the market-place a disturbance of some sort could be created, as it is market-day and all the country people know me and are my friends, a rescue might be attempted. I know how to arrange for that, only they must see some chance of success.” A bright thought suddenly struck me; it was suggested by a trick I had played shortly after my arrival in Italy. “You know I am something of a magician, Valeria; you have had proof of that. If I create a disturbance by magic to-morrow when you are passing through the market-place, you won’t stay to wonder what is the cause of the confusion, but instantly take advantage of it to escape.” “Trust me for that, _caro mio_.” “And if you escape when shall we meet again?” “I am known too well now to risk another meeting. I shall be in hiding with Croppo, where it will be impossible for you to find me, nor while he lives could I ever dare to think of leaving him; but I shall never forget you,”--and she pressed my hands to her lips,--“though I shall no longer have the picture of the donkey to remember you by.” “See, here’s my photograph; that will be better,” said I, feeling a little annoyed--foolishly, I admit. Then we strained each other to our respective hearts and parted. Now it so happened that my room in the _lacanda_ in which I was lodging overlooked the market-place. Here at ten o’clock in the morning I posted myself; for that was the hour, as I had been careful to ascertain, when the prisoners were to start for Foggia. I opened the window about three inches and fixed it there; I took out my gun, put eight balls in it, and looked down upon the square. It was crowded with the country people in their bright-coloured costumes chaffering over their produce. I looked above them to the tall campanile of the church which filled one side of the square. I receded a step and adjusted my gun on the ledge of the window to my satisfaction. I then looked down the street in which the prison was situated, and which debouched on the square, and awaited events. At ten minutes past ten I saw the soldiers at the door of the prison form up, and then I knew that the twenty prisoners of whom they formed the escort were starting; but the moment they began to move I fired at the big bell in the campanile, which responded with a loud clang. All the people in the square looked up. As the prisoners entered the square, which they had begun to cross in its whole breadth, I fired again and again. The bell banged twice, and the people began to buzz about. “Now,” I thought, “I must let the old bell have it.” By the time five more balls had struck the bell with a resounding din the whole square was in commotion. A miracle was evidently in progress or the campanile was bewitched. People began to run hither and thither; all the soldiers forming the escort gaped open-mouthed at the steeple as the clangour continued.