"Padre Angelo," replied the bandit, taking the monk's hand, and putting it to his lips with a caressing gesture and an affectionate glance that changed the character of his face entirely, "whatever you may ask, I am always willing to do for you. But no man can do all that he is willing to do. So I must know what it is." "A man annoys us." "I understand." "We do not wish to kill him." "You are unwise." "By killing him we ruin ourselves; by putting him out of the way we are saved." "He is to be kidnapped then?" "Yes, but we do not know how to go about it." "What! _you_ do not know, Padre Angelo?" said the Piccinino with a smile. "I should have known in the old days," replied the Capuchin. "I had friends and places of shelter. Now, I am a monk." "You are foolish," rejoined the bandit with undisturbed tranquillity. "So, I am to kidnap a man, am I? Is he very stout, very heavy?" "He is very light," replied the monk, who apparently understood that metaphor, "and no one will give you a ducat for his skin." "In that case, good-evening, father; I can't take him alone and put him in my pocket like a handkerchief. I must have men, and they are not to be had for nothing, as in your day." "You don't understand me; you may fix the compensation of your men yourself, and they shall be paid." "Do you make yourself responsible for that, father?" "I do." "You alone?" "I alone. And, so far as you are concerned, if the affair had not been a magnificent one, I should not have selected you." "Well, we will see about it next week," rejoined the bandit, in order to obtain more ample information as to the profits of the affair. "In that case, we will say nothing more about it," said the monk, hurt by his distrust; "we must go forward at once or not at all." "At once? What about a chance to collect my men, persuade them, and give them their instructions?" "You can do it to-morrow morning, and to-morrow night they can be at their posts." "I see that you are in no great hurry, or you would have told me to start to-night. If you can wait until to-morrow, you can wait a fortnight." "No; for I intend to take you away with me now, send you to a certain villa where you will talk with one of the persons interested in the success of the affair, and give you until to-morrow night to inspect the locality, become acquainted with all necessary details, set up your batteries, notify your men, station them, arrange for allies in the citadel. Bah! it is more time than you need! At your age I wouldn't have asked your father for half of it." Michel saw that the Capuchin had touched the right chord at last; for when he was appealed to as the son of the Prince of Castro-Reale, a title which nobody dared or chose to give him openly, the Piccinino started, sat up and sprang to his feet as if he were ready to start at once. But suddenly he put his hand to his leg and fell back on the couch. "It is impossible," he said, "I am in too much pain."