Pascal inclined his head.
“Then,” he added, after a short pause, “I have brought you back eight silver covers, with your arms and cypher on them, which I found in the pocket of a certain captain who, most likely, robbed you of them.”
“Zounds,” said the prince, “it’s singular they should be brought back by you; and now, what have you in that bundle?”
“In this bundle,” said Bruno, “is the head of a wretch who abused your hospitality, and which I have brought you as a proof of my sworn devotion to your service.”
Saying this, Pascal Bruno untied the handkerchief, and taking the head of Captain Altavilla by the hair, he placed it, all bleeding as it was, on the duke’s desk.
“What the devil am I to do with such a present as this?” said the prince.
“What you please, my lord,” replied Pascal Bruno, who bowed and left the room.
The Prince of Butera remained alone for an instant with his eyes fixed on the head, balancing himself in his arm-chair, and whistling his favourite tune; he then, after an instant, rang the bell, and his major-domo made his appearance.
“Jacomo,” said the prince, “it is of no use going to Captain Altavilla’s to-morrow morning; tear up the letter; keep the fifty ounces, and throw this carrion on the dung-heap.”