"They bring no prisoners, I see no spoil. They have been disappointed again of their prey."
The gang of robbers wore a very different air from what they had done in the morning, as slowly and sullenly, one by one, they swung themselves up to the platform in front of the cave. On Enrico's face alone, Horace fancied that he could detect an expression of relief, as his eye met that of his brother.
"They never came, though we watched for them from sunrise till sunset!" cried one of the band. "I take it they've put off their journey till the morrow. Some woman's whim, I'll be bound, for we heard there's a signora in the party."
"We'll make them pay dear for our lost time," growled Matteo with an oath, as with the back of his rough hand he wiped his heated brow.
"I say," exclaimed Beppo, with a malignant scowl at Raphael, "we'll never have luck with such a preaching, praying heretic amongst us. What's the use of our burning candles to the Madonna, or vowing what best we can spare to the saints, if we've him praying hard against us?"
"The saints and the blessed Virgin Mary wouldn't listen to him," cried Marco, crossing himself as he mentioned the Madonna's name.
"I take it that his prayers go higher and straighter than ours go, Marco," said Beppo; "and they can do something down here below, or Enrico would not have hung back as he did to-day."
"I did not hang back," fiercely retorted Enrico.
"You'll prove but a hollow reed at the pinch," said Beppo, who looked quite ready to defend his opinions with something harder than words. "Did not that psalm singing brother of yours do all that he could to prevent you from going about your business this very day?"
"He did not," stammered forth Enrico, avoiding meeting the gaze of Raphael.