The second brigand said: "I am a waterman by birth and by longing. If I could purchase a certain barge upon which I have long had an eye, I should do well and honestly in the world, and happily."
"And you? What do you want?" Asabri smiled paternally in the face of the youngest brigand.
This one showed his beautiful teeth a moment, and drew the rags together over his scarred breast.
"I am nineteen years of age," he said, and his eyes glistened. "There is a girl, sir, in my village. Her eyes are like velvet; her skin is smooth as custard. She is very beautiful. If I could go to her father with a certain sum of money, he would not ask where I had gotten it—that is why I have robbed on the highway. He would merely stretch forth his hands and roll his fat eyes heavenward, and say: 'Bless you, my children.'"
"But the girl," said Asabri.
"It is wonderful," said the youngest brigand, "how she loves me. And when I told her that I was going upon the road to earn the moneys necessary for our happiness, she said that she would climb down from her window at night and come with me. But," he concluded unctuously, "I pointed out to her that from sin springs nothing but unhappiness."
"We formed a fellowship, we three," said the second brigand, "and swore an oath: to take from the world so much as would make us happy, and no more."
"My friends," said Asabri, "there are worse brigands than yourselves living in palaces."
The fog had lifted, and it was beginning to grow light. Asabri gathered up the heavy bag of money and prepared to depart.