Under the spreading branches of the oak, in the stillness of that wild and desolate spot, the young captive knelt down and prayed. Horace prayed for his mother—for himself—more for rescue from earthly trials than for grace and strength to endure them, for the youth was yet ignorant of human weakness, and of the objects for which affliction is sent to the sons of men.
"Ha, ha! See the heretic at his beads!" exclaimed the mocking voice of Beppo, who, with two or three of his companions, had sauntered lazily forth into the sunshine.
Horace was on his feet in a moment, ashamed—strange cause for shame!—at having been discovered by these men in the act of prayer. The scornful laugh of the robbers brought the blood to his cheek.
The banditti had merely come out of the cave to sun themselves in the morning beams, and enjoy in the open air the dolce far niente of which the Italians are so fond. They stretched themselves on the ground in front of their den, and the better to beguile the time, amused themselves by asking the young stranger a number of questions regarding his country, its customs, its people, its ruler, making their comments upon his replies in a half jocular, half insulting manner, which sorely tried his patience. Common sense, however, showed Horace that there was little to be gained by quarreling with men who held his life in their hands, and that it was better to bear an insulting jest than to try whether the robbers' stilettos had keener edge than their wit.
Partly to change the current of conversation, and partly to gain information on a subject that interested him, Horace suddenly asked Beppo where the Rossignol had learned the song which he had sung on the preceding night.
"Who ever asked where the nightingale learns its lay?" answered the robber, whose face looked even more repulsive when seen by the clear light of day, than it had done by torch-gleam. "And yet notes of his sort suit our wild haunts so ill, that I trow that he learned it in his cage!"
"He has been in prison then?" asked Horace.
"Oh, he, like most of us, has known what it is to lodge free, gratis, and for nothing at the expense of our gracious King Francis," laughed Beppo, "and has found the bedchamber none of the airiest, and the royal fare none of the daintiest!"
"And for what offense?" began Horace.
But Enrico, who had joined the party, fiercely cut his questioning short.