“Ay, and would have used it, too, if he had not made some excuse, and turned the thing into a laugh. That pacified her. What a fury she was while the fit was on her. Cospetto! Her eyes glittered like hot lava from Vesuvius.”
“The girl stole away, I think?”
“That did she, and a good thing for her she did; though if she had stayed I don’t think Corvino would have dared look at her again that night. I never saw him cowed before. He lost both his sweetheart and his gold charm; for his Cara Popetta appropriated that to herself, and wears it regularly whenever he holds festa among the peasant girls, by way of reminder, I suppose.”
“Did the captain ever see Poli’s daughter again?”
“Well, some of us think he did. But you remember, after you left us we moved away from that part of the country? The soldiers became too troublesome about there, and there was a whisper that the signora had something to do with making the place too hot for us. After all, I don’t think Corvino cared for the carbonero’s daughter. It was only a short-lived fancy, because the girl showed sweet upon him. This of the sindico’s chicken is a very different affair; for I know he’s fond of going in that direction, and shouldn’t wonder if we get into danger by it. Danger or no danger, he’ll have her sooner or later, take my word for it.”
“I don’t wonder at his fancy; she a sweet-looking girl. One likes her all the better for being so proud upon it.”
“Her pride will have a fall, once Corvino gets her in his clutches. He’s just the man to tame such shy damsels as she.”
“Povera! it is a pity, too.”
“Bah, you’re a fool, Thomasso. Your sojourn in the Pope’s prison has spoilt you for our life, I fear. What are we poor fellows to do, if we don’t have a sweetheart now and then? Chased liked wolves, why shouldn’t we take a slice of lamb when we can get it? Who can blame the capo for liking a little bit of tender chick? And such a sweet bit as Lucetta Torreani.”
Henry Harding, who had been all this time listening with disgust to the dialogue between the two brigands, felt as if a huge stone had struck him. The presentment that had just commenced shaping itself in his mind appeared all at once to be circumstantially confirmed. The young girl spoken of was Lucetta Torreani. It could be no other than the sister of Luigi, whom he had seen standing in the balcony at Val di Orno, and who so often since had been occupying his thoughts.