It, and Other Stories

by Gouverneur Morris

"I have counted the money. It is correct."

Then he rolled his fat eyes heavenward, just as the youngest brigand had prophesied, and said: "Bless you, my children!"

"I must be going," said Asabri; "but there is one thing."

Four dark luminous eyes looked into his.

"You have not kissed," said Asabri; "let it be now, so that I may remember."

Without embarrassment, the young brigand and his sweetheart folded their arms closely about each other, and kissed each other, once, slowly, with infinite tenderness.

"I am nineteen," said the youngest brigand; then, and he looked heavenward: "God help us to forget the years that have been wasted!"

Asabri drove toward Rome, his headlights piercing the darkness. The champagne was no longer in his blood. He was in a calm, judicial mood.

"To think," he said to himself, "that for a mere matter of a hundred and fifty thousand lire, a rich old man can be young again for a day or two!"