“Well, Ors’ Anton’,” said the elder bandit to the young man, “so your business is settled--the indictment against you has fallen through? I congratulate you. I’m sorry the lawyer has left the island. I’d like to see his rage. And how’s your arm?”
“They tell me I shall get rid of my sling in a fortnight,” said the young man. “Brando, my good friend, I’m going to Italy to-morrow--I wanted to say good-bye to you and to the cure. That’s why I asked you to come here.”
“You’re in a fine hurry,” said Brandolaccio. “Only acquitted yesterday, and you’re off to-morrow.”
“Business must be attended to,” said the young lady merrily. “Gentlemen, I’ve brought some supper. Fall to, if you please, and don’t you forget my friend Brusco.”
“You spoil Brusco, Mademoiselle Colomba. But he’s a grateful dog. You shall see. Here, Brusco,” and he held out his gun horizontally, “jump for the Barricini!”
The dog stood motionless, licking his chops, and staring at his master.
“Jump for the della Rebbia!” And he leaped two feet higher than he need have done.
“Look here, my friends,” said Orso, “you’re plying a bad trade; and even if you don’t end your career on that square below us,[*] the best you can look for is to die in the _maquis_ by some gendarme’s bullet.”
[*] The square at Bastia on which executions take place.
“Well, well,” said Castriconi, “that’s no more than death, anyhow; and it’s better than being killed in your bed by a fever, with your heirs snivelling more or less honestly all round you. To men who are accustomed to the open air like us, there’s nothing so good as to die ‘in your shoes,’ as the village folk say.”
“I should like to see you get out of this country,” said Orso, “and lead a quieter life. For instance, why shouldn’t you settle in Sardinia, as several of your comrades have done? I could make the matter easy for you.”
“In Sardinia!” cried Brandolaccio. “_Istos Sardos!_ Devil take them and their lingo! We couldn’t live in such bad company.”
“Sardinia’s a country without resources,” added the theologian. “For my part, I despise the Sardinians. They keep mounted men to hunt their bandits. That’s a stigma on both the bandits and the country.[*] Out upon Sardinia, say I! The thing that astounds me, Signor della Rebbia, is that you, who are a man of taste and understanding, should not have taken to our life in the _maquis_, after having once tried it, as you did.”