All paused in awe-struck silence for a moment, and then Lorenzo struck his horse with the spur, and dashed on up the terrace even among the still hot fragments. "Ho! is there any one here?" he cried--"is there any one here? For the love of God, answer if there be! Ride round to the back, Antonio. Parisot, take that other way to the left. See if you can find any to answer. But be quick--be quick! there is no time to spare."
"But what would you do, my lord?" asked Antonio, in a sad tone.
"Pursue the villains to the gates of hell!" cried Lorenzo. "I will, I tell you! quick!"
More than once Lorenzo repeated the shout, "Ho! is there any one there?" while the men were absent, and sometimes he would think of sending some of the men down to a small peasant-house he saw about half a mile below, and then he would remember that he might need them all at a moment's notice; and often would he mutter words to himself, such as "They dare not resist a French pennon. What if they do? Then die. Better to die a thousand times than live to think of her in their hands."
The few minutes the men were absent passed thus as if in a dream; but at length Antonio re-appeared, bringing a man with him pressed tightly by the arm. It was a peasant of the middle age, who seemed somewhat unwilling to come where he was led, and was evidently afraid; but, if one might judge from the expression of his face, the dull, heavy look of despair, there was sorrow mingled with his fear.
"You need not hold me so hard, signor," he said, in the rich but somewhat rough Tuscan tongue; "I will come. I only ran from you because I thought you were a party of the band."
"Here!" cried Lorenzo, springing up to meet them; "tell me who has done this. What of the ladies who were here? Where are they? What has become of them? Speak, man, quick! I am half mad."
"Oh, signor, if you had seen your daughter carried away by ruffians you might be whole mad," answered the peasant, and his eyes gushed forth with tears.
"I am sorry for you from my heart," replied Lorenzo, in an altered tone; "yet, my good friend, give me any information in your power. My bride may be where your daughter is, and if so I will pursue them."
The man gave a hopeless, nay, almost a contemptuous look at the handful of men which followed the young lord.