'But he will kill you.'
'I can die!'
'It will be the ruin of your family. What will happen to your wife and children if you are dead?'
'If need be they can die too. No one who bears the name of Orsi fears death.'
'You cannot sacrifice their lives in cold blood.'
'I cannot kill a fellow-man in cold blood. Ah, my friend, you don't know what is in me. I am not religious; I have never meddled with priests; but something in my heart tells me not to do this thing. I don't know what it is—conscience or honour—but it is speaking clearly within me.'
He had his hand on his heart, and was speaking very earnestly. We followed his eyes and saw them resting on a crucifix.
'No, Bartolomeo,' he said, 'one cannot forget God. He is above us always, always watching us; and what should I say to Him with the blood of that man on my hands? You may say what you like, but, believe me, it is best to be honest and straight-forward, and to the utmost of one's ability to carry out the doctrines which Christ has left us, and upon which he set the seal with the blood of His hands and feet and the wound in His side.'
Bartolomeo looked at me as if it were hopeless to attempt anything against such sentiments. But I signed him energetically to go on; he hesitated. It would be almost tragic if he gave the matter up before Checco had time to surrender. However, he proceeded,—
'You are a good man, Checco, and I respect you deeply for what you have said. But if you will not stir to save yourself, think of the others.'