"Oh! you know this very afternoon you and I, we were near the wood of St. Vilmosh, and the Pandurs were here close to the park palings, and yet they knew you even at that distance."
"Yes, very much as we knew them. They presumed it was I. But if they have a mind to make my acquaintance, I'd better look after the priming of my pistols. So! Now let them come. After sunset I fear no man."
"Oh! Viola, Viola!" cried Peti. "I know your boldness will be your bane. You laugh at danger, but danger will overtake you."
"But, after all, were it not better to die than to live as I do?" said the robber, feeling the edge of his axe. "I curse the day at dawn because the light of the sun marks my track to the pursuer. The wild bird in the brake causes me to tremble. The trunk of a fallen tree fills me with dread; for who knows but it may hide the form of an enemy? I fly from those I love. I pass my days among the beasts of the forests, and my dreams are of the gallows and the hangman. Such is my life! Believe me, Peti, I have little cause to be in love with life!"
"But your wife and your children!"
"Ah! you are right! my wife and my children!" sighed the robber, and stared fixedly at the fire, whose faint glow sufficed to display to Peti the cloud of deep melancholy which passed over the manly features of his companion.
Viola was a handsome man. His high forehead, partly covered by a forest of the blackest locks, the bold look of his dark eyes, the frank and manly expression of his sunburnt face, the ease and the beauty of each movement of his lofty form, impressed you with the idea that in him you beheld one of those men who, though Nature meant them to be great and glorious, pass by humble and unheeded; happy if their innate power for good and for ill remains a secret; yes, happy are they if they are allowed to live and die as the many, with but few to love them and few to hate.
"Don't be sad, comrade," said Peti. "It's a long lane that has no turning. But go you must, for here you are in danger of your life. The election is at hand, and Mr. Skinner has every chance of losing his part in it. He will move heaven and earth to catch you. After I met you this afternoon, the Pandurs arrested me, and took me to him. May the devil burn his bones! but he treated me cruelly: he was so savage that my hair stood on end. Had it not been for the younger Akosh (God bless him!), I'd be now taking my turn at the whipping-post. He has his spies among us; he did not mention their names, but certain it is that he knows of every step you take; I protest nothing short of a miracle can have saved you! But certainly if we had not agreed to meet by this fire, you could scarcely have escaped him. The landlord and his servants are bound and locked up in the cellar, and Pandurs, dressed up as peasants, watch in the inn. There are also Pandurs in your house; and the peasants have been ordered to arm themselves with pitchforks, and to sally out when the church-bells give the signal. When I was Mr. Skinner's prisoner he cursed me, and mentioned his preparations; I have found out that he said rather too little than too much."
Viola rose. "There are Pandurs in my house, and you tell me that my wife is ill?"
"Oh! do not mind her. Susi has left the house; she is as comfortable as a creature can be with the fever. They have taken her to the notary's house."