“Once more, good-bye.” The Chief addressed the signorina in English.     

       She replied in the same tongue, “Good-bye,” tremulously; and passion mounting on it, added—“Oh! when shall I see you again?”      

       “When Rome is purified to be a fit place for such as you.”      

       In another minute he was hidden on the slope of the mountain lying toward Orta.     

  

       CHAPTER V     

       Beppo had effected a firm capture of his man some way down the slope. But it was a case of check that entirely precluded his own free movements. They hung together intertwisted in the characters of specious pacificator and appealing citizen, both breathless.     

       “There! you want to hand me up neatly; I know your vanity, my Beppo; and you don't even know my name,” said the prisoner.     

       “I know your ferret of a face well enough,” said Beppo. “You dog the signorina. Come up, and don't give trouble.”      

       “Am I not a sheep? You worry me. Let me go.”      

       “You're a wriggling eel.”      

       “Catch me fast by the tail then, and don't hold me by the middle.”      

       “You want frightening, my pretty fellow!”      

       “If that's true, my Beppo, somebody made a mistake in sending you to do it. Stop a moment. You're blown. I think you gulp down your minestra too hot; you drink beer.”      

       “You dog the signorina! I swore to scotch you at last.”      

       “I left Milan for the purpose—don't you see? Act fairly, my Beppo, and let us go up to the signorina together decently.”      

       “Ay, ay, my little reptile! You'll find no Austrians here. Cry out to them to come to you from Baveno. If the Motterone grew just one tree! 

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