“You mustn’t smoke in the attic,” said Martha, recovering herself at sight of the cigarette. “You might set the house on fire.”
The middle-sized man, who had not noticed her before, at this speech turned to the girl and bowed.
“Since a lady requests it,” said he, “I shall abandon my cigarette,” and he threw it on the floor and extinguished it with his foot.
“Who are you?” asked Martha, who until now had been too astonished to be frightened.
“Permit us to introduce ourselves,” said the thin man, flourishing his hat gracefully. “This is Lugui,” the fat man nodded; “and this is Beni,” the middle-sized man bowed; “and I am Victor. We are three bandits—Italian bandits.”
“Bandits!” cried Martha, with a look of horror.
“Exactly. Perhaps in all the world there are not three other bandits so terrible and fierce as ourselves,” said Victor, proudly.
“’Tis so,” said the fat man, nodding gravely.
“But it’s wicked!” exclaimed Martha.
“Yes, indeed,” replied Victor. “We are extremely and tremendously wicked. Perhaps in all the world you could not find three men more wicked than those who now stand before you.”