The girl could neither reply nor scold, for her mouth was closed fast with kisses.
"You know I am very jealous," she said at last, when she was able to tear herself free. "I do not love as others love. I can only think of you and your love. I am neither hungry nor thirsty but only—in love. I am never weary, I scarcely know that I am working, for love makes me sing and sing all day. I dream only of you. I care not what is going on in the whole world so long as I only know what is happening to you. I know that you love me and that you are mine so long as you are here. But how often you are far away! How often I do not see you for weeks, for months at a time! Then I get nearly mad. I am determined to find out where you are and what you are doing, with whom you are speaking and then I say, I feel quite mad."
"Indeed! Then let me tell you, my dear girl, that it would do you no good to know where I am, for I am much more exposed to the fire of pointed rifles than to the fire of pretty eyes."
"Are you then a robber chieftain, a mountain smuggler?"
"I am a lot of things."
"Then take me with you into your band"—she spoke with heaving bosom.
But Fatia Negra stamped his foot.
"It cannot be, Anicza," said he; "think no more of it! I will never take you with me."
"Why not?" asked the girl and her eyes flashed like a wild cat's.
"Because then I should become jealous of you and that would be bad for us both. Remain in your father's house; there you are safe."