"Girl, did you see a man pass, running at full speed—a man enveloped in a broad olive-green cloak, with a great hairy cap on his head?"
"Officer," said one of the soldiers, "here is a cap on the ground; isn't it the brigand's?"
"Mordieu, yes! it is, indeed; exactly as it is detailed in the description of him—in that case, girl, the robber must have stopped on this spot.—Yes, there is blood here, too; that means that we have wounded him.—Come, sacrebleu! answer, my beauty! You look frightened to death; is it because the miserable Giovanni attacked you and robbed you too?"
"Giovanni!" faltered Miretta, shaking her head sadly. "Oh! it is not he! Alas! it is not Giovanni now! I was perfectly sure that he had been murdered!"
"What does she say?—what is this fable you are telling us, girl? did you see the robber pass—yes or no?"
"Yes, I did see him pass; but he is not Giovanni! He wears his clothes, he stole them, doubtless, but I tore off his false beard, and his cap fell at the same time, and I recognized him."
"You recognized——"
After hesitating a moment, Miretta cried at last:
"Ah! why should I have any pity on the man who killed him whom I loved?—No, it is my duty to unmask the infamous villain—to bring upon him the punishment he deserves!"
"Well, girl, will you answer or not? Whom did you recognize?"