"God forbid!" cried Mila, effusively. "Ah! monsignor, rely on my prudence and my discretion as if my life were bound to yours!"
"Very well; say to the princess that it was Carmelo Tomabene who rescued you from Abbé Ninfo, and who kissed your hand as respectfully as he would kiss her own."
"It is for me to kiss your hand, monsignor," replied the guileless child, putting the brigand's hand to her lips, firmly persuaded that it was at least a king's son who treated her with such condescending courtesy; "for you are deceiving me," she continued. "Carmelo Tomabene is a villano, and this house is no more yours than his name is. You might live in a palace, if you chose, but you disguise yourself for political reasons which I ought not to know, and do not wish to. I have an idea that you will be King of Sicily some day. Ah! how I would like to be a man and fight for your cause! for you will bring about the happiness of your people, I am sure of it!"
Mila's jesting extravagance caused a momentary madness in the brigand's audacious brain. He had a touch of vertigo, and felt almost the same emotion as if she had guessed the truth instead of dreaming a dream. But instantly he laughed an almost bitter laugh, which did not dispel Mila's illusions. She thought that it was an attempt to banish her rash suspicions, and she frankly asked his forgiveness for the words that had escaped her.
"My child," he replied, kissing her on the brow and assisting her to mount the white mule, "Princess Agatha will tell you who I am. I authorize you to ask her; but, when you find out, remember that you are my accomplice, or that you must send me to the gallows."
"I would rather go myself!" said Mila, as she rode away, calling his attention to the respectful kiss she bestowed upon his bouquet.
"Well!" said the Piccinino to himself, "this has been the pleasantest and most romantic adventure of my whole life. I have played the part of a king in disguise, without showing it, without taking the trouble to prepare for it, without making any arrangements to afford myself that amusement. Unexpected pleasures are the only genuine ones, they say; I begin to believe it. Perhaps it is because I have premeditated my actions too much, and laid out my life beforehand too carefully, that I have so often found ennui and distaste at the end of my undertakings. Fascinating Mila! What a wealth of poesy, what freshness of the imagination in your young brain! Oh! if only you were a youth of my own sex! if I could keep you beside me without causing you to lose any of your pleasant illusions and your blessed purity! I should find the sweet companionship of a wife in a faithful comrade, without danger of arousing or feeling the passion which poisons and destroys all friendships! But such mortals do not exist. Woman cannot fail to be treacherous; man cannot cease to be brutal. Ah! I always have missed—I always shall miss—the being able to love some one. I should have had to fall in with a mind different from all other minds and even more different from my own—which is impossible!
"Am I then an exceptional character?" he asked himself, following with his eyes the prints of Mila's little feet on the gravelled paths of his garden. "It seems to me that I am, when I compare myself with the mountaineers with whom I am compelled to live, and with these bandits whose leader I am. I have more than one brother among them, so it is said. The fact that they have none of my qualities, makes it impossible for me to believe it. The passions which serve as a bond between us differ as much as our features and our bodily strength. They desire booty in order to convert into money everything that is not money; and I care for nothing which is not of value by reason of its beauty or its rarity. What they succeed in obtaining they hoard because they are miserly; I use it sparingly, so that I may be able to bear myself royally with them on occasion, and extend my power and influence over everyone about me.
"Thus gold is to me only a means, while to them it is the end. They love women as chattels, and I, alas! would fain be able to love them as human beings! They are intoxicated with delight by acts of violence which make me sick at heart, and by which I should be humiliated, knowing that I have the power to please, and having never been compelled to force myself upon anyone. No, no! they are no brothers of mine; if they are the Destatore's sons, they are the offspring of wild dissipation and of his years of moral decadence. I am the son of Castro-Reale; I was conceived on a day when his mind was lucid. My mother was not violated like the rest. She abandoned herself to him willingly, and I am the fruit of the intercourse of two free hearts, who did not give me life against their wills.
"But, in that world which is called society, and which I call the legal community, are there not many persons of both sexes with whom I could enter into relations, and so escape this ghastly solitude of my thoughts? Are there not men of intelligence, endowed with keen perception, whose friend I might be? Are there not many women, proud and adroit, whose lover I might be, without being compelled to laugh at the pains I had taken to overcome them? In a word, am I doomed never to find emotion of any sort in this life which I embraced as being most fruitful in violent emotions? Shall I always be obliged to expend endless stores of imaginative power and of tact, in order to succeed in pillaging a vessel on the coast or a party of travellers in the gorges of the mountain? And all to obtain a multitude of petty trinkets, a little money, and the hearts of a few Englishwomen, ugly or half-mad, who adore adventures with brigands as a remedy for the spleen!