"Heed not him, come away; here Pedro, Adrian, you were ever a lady's man, give this girl a swing on my horse, and take her down to the cave; she will do to drive away my hours of ennui."
L'Estrange stooped down and lifted her in his arms: taking her out of the carriage, he let her slowly fall down from his arms till her feet touched the ground; he turned her head away from the poles with their ghastly heads. His face betrayed convulsive emotions, as if he was planning something within.
"Why burden yourself with her, Capitano?" said Pedro, "there are fairer girls than she in Avellino; she will be a burden, and ever moping and crying, like your last Inglese girl."
"You speak sooth, d—n me if you don't. What do I want with the pigeon? Wring her neck, and let's be off with our booty."
"Luigi," said L'Estrange, for by that name he had long learned to address him, "you have had your way with the old man—you have dipped your hands already in innocent blood—leave this girl to me, let her be my prize."
As he spoke these words poor Caroline had detected the cruel reality, and, giving a wild scream as she glanced towards the fatal poles and their dreadful burdens, again swooned and sunk down on the ground at her protector's feet.
"You chicken-hearted fool, you were ever a blockhead when women fell in your way, but this girl is my prize, and I'll do what I please with her. See, the silly dove has gone and swooned again. Egad, you make a nice pair. Come, Adrian, away with such folly; run your dagger through her heart, and let's away, or we shall bring the whole country buzzing about our ears."
"Protect me, sir; oh, protect me," cried Caroline, awakening again from her swoon, and as if by instinct seeing in him a deliverer.
"I will—fear not, maiden."
"Can you?" roared the Captain. "Are you able? Ye powers! he dares me, his captain!"