"Corpo di Cristo!" he muttered--"think you a man tied hand and foot can run like a deer? I am trapped--I know it! But tell HIM," and he indicated some person in the throng by a nod of his head "tell him to come hither--I have a message for him."
The gendarmes looked at one another, and then at the swaying crowd about them in perplexity--they did not understand.
Carmelo, without wasting more words upon them, raised himself as uprightly as he could in his strained and bound position, and called aloud: "Luigi Biscardi! Capitano! Oh he--you thought I could not see you! Dio! I should know you in hell! Come near, I have a parting word for you."
At the sound of his strong harsh voice, a silence half of terror, half of awe, fell upon the chattering multitude. There was a sudden stir as the people made way for a young man to pass through their ranks--a slight, tall, rather handsome fellow, with a pale face and cold, sneering eyes. He was dressed with fastidious care and neatness in the uniform of the Bersagliere--and he elbowed his way along with the easy audacity of a privileged dandy. He came close up to the brigand and spoke carelessly, with a slightly mocking smile playing round the corners of his mouth.
"Ebbene!" he said, "you are caught at last, Carmelo! You called me--here I am. What do you want with me, rascal?"
Neri uttered a ferocious curse between his teeth, and looked for an instant like a wild beast ready to spring.
"You betrayed me," he said in fierce yet smothered accents--"you followed me--you hunted me down! Teresa told me all. Yes--she belongs to you now--you have got your wish. Go and take her--she waits for you--make her speak and tell you how she loves you--IF YOU CAN!"
Something jeering and withal threatening in the ruffian's look, evidently startled the young officer, for he exclaimed hastily: "What do you mean, wretch? You have not--my God! you have not KILLED her?"
Carmelo broke into a loud savage laugh.
"She has killed herself!" he cried, exultingly. "Ha, ha, I thought you would wince at that! She snatched my knife and stabbed herself with it! Yes--rather than see your lying white face again--rather than feel your accursed touch! Find her--she lies dead and smiling up there in the mountains and her last kiss was for ME--for ME--you understand! Now go! and may the devil curse you!"
Again the gendarmes clashed their swords suggestively--and the brigand resumed his sullen attitude of suppressed wrath and feigned indifference. But the man to whom he had spoken staggered and seemed about to fall--his pale face grew paler--he moved away through the curious open-eyed by-standers with the mechanical air of one who knows not whether he be alive or dead. He had evidently received an unexpected shock--a wound that pierced deeply and would be a long time healing.