“Truly so; but it must first come to maturity,” said Bruno; “in the meantime, as I am not yet tired of my life, take a seat, and let us sup; and we will talk the matter over by-and-by.”
“May I cross myself before I eat?” said Tommassi. “Certainly,” replied Bruno.
“I thought it might, perhaps, be unpleasant to you,” said the brigadier; “we are not always sure.”
“Anything you like,” said Bruno.
The brigadier made the sign of the cross, seated himself at the table, and attacked the shoulder of mutton like a man whose conscience was perfectly at ease, and who knew that he had done, under very difficult and trying circumstances, all that a brave soldier could do. Bruno kept him nobly in countenance; and, certainly, to see these two men seated at the same table, drinking out of the same bottle, and helping themselves from the same dish, no one would have imagined that each in his turn had, within the last hour, done all he could to kill the other.
For an instant they were both silent, partly on account of the important business in which they were engaged, and partly from the preoccupation of their minds. Paolo Tommassi was the first to give utterance to the double idea on which his mind was engaged.
“Comrade,” he said, “you live well here; it must be allowed you have excellent wine, certainly, and you do the honours of the table like a right-good fellow; but I acknowledge I should enjoy all this much better if I knew when I was to leave here.”
“To-morrow morning, I presume,” replied Bruno. “You will not keep me here as a prisoner, then?” asked the brigadier, eagerly.
“A prisoner! why what the devil should I do with you here?” asked Bruno.
“Hem!” said the brigadier, “so far it is not so bad; but—” he continued, evidently embarrassed, “that is not all.”