"I should have known in the old days," replied the Capuchin. "I had friends and places of shelter. Now, I am a monk."
"You are foolish," rejoined the bandit with undisturbed tranquillity. "So, I am to kidnap a man, am I? Is he very stout, very heavy?"
"He is very light," replied the monk, who apparently understood that metaphor, "and no one will give you a ducat for his skin."
"In that case, good-evening, father; I can't take him alone and put him in my pocket like a handkerchief. I must have men, and they are not to be had for nothing, as in your day."
"You don't understand me; you may fix the compensation of your men yourself, and they shall be paid."
"Do you make yourself responsible for that, father?"
"I do."
"You alone?"
"I alone. And, so far as you are concerned, if the affair had not been a magnificent one, I should not have selected you."
"Well, we will see about it next week," rejoined the bandit, in order to obtain more ample information as to the profits of the affair.