"Now, my son, go back to those who sent you here and tell them what you have learned. Let them come with their field-gun, and do you come with them. When you are ordered to bombard the walls, do you obey—"
"What? father;" I interrupted in astonishment. "You advise me to do that?"
"Yes. On the bombardier depends the effect of the bombardment! It rests with him to aim well, or ill! Better you at the gun than another!"
I understood the sagacious reply, and said:
"I shall take good care not to aim well, father."
"On you, my son, will it depend that the relief troops I shall send for reach here in time to save us from the robbers."
"And you may rest assured, father, that I shall know how to prolong the siege!"
As a pledge that I would keep faith with him I gave him my crutch, gratitude also prompting the gift, for, not even a gold-filled crutch is too great a price to pay for a sound leg!
"I will keep it for you, my son," said the benevolent sage. "If you succeed in averting the danger which threatens us you shall have the crutch back, and something in addition—something of more value than gold: aid to reform. Take this image of the Holy Virgin to your wife with my blessing."
A changed man at heart, I returned to the cavern, where, however, I was forced again to tell untruths, in order to deceive the robbers. But it was for a good cause.