“What is the matter, sir?”
“I know the young lady. She is an old friend of my sister. Go on, Wing.”
“Well, sir, the young lady was placed under the care of Madam Corsoni, who made her comfortable—that is, as comfortable as any creature whose every breath was a malediction could be made.”
“The young lady did not bear her captivity very patiently, then?”
“Patiently! I tell you, my Colonel, if I had been Albert Goldsborough I had rather carried off bodily a well grown she-tiger. She had torn his hair and whiskers out by the roots and had nearly clawed both his ears off. His jaws will have to be bandaged for a month; and if he doesn’t get erysipelas from his wounds, I don’t know what will prevent him. Afterwards, while she was in the care of Madam Corsoni, as I said before, she did nothing but breathe maledictions against him and his band.”
“Very natural and extremely like her. Well, my boy, you say that was on the evening of the fifth day; you must have left soon after that.”
“Yes, sir, I did. That night the Free Sword, much to his distaste, had to give up his half of his lady’s chamber to her new guest; for as Madam Corsoni was the only other woman in the encampment, she insisted on keeping the young girl under her own immediate protection.”
“And she was quite right. Proceed, Wing.”
“That night the Free Sword, being banished from his wife’s quarters, passed the hours with his guest, Colonel Goldsborough, in consultation upon the combination of their forces for the projected raid. I kept the door. In that interview it was decided that the three great bands respectively commanded by Colonel Corsoni, Goldsborough and Monck, should rendezvous at the Black Bear’s Pass, where the greater portion of Goldsborough’s guerrillas had already preceded them, and where Monck’s horde was expected to join them. It was arranged that they should march the next day, if the weather should permit.”
“Well! Go on.”