The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-10-15
LISA'S SACRIFICE.
The Brigands Cave-The Captive and the
MaideD-A Recognition-The Chieftan's
Wooing.

Wooing.
l.
The sun had clim bed high enough to
peer through the grass-fringed chasm
in the roof of the cave which served as
the home and citadal of the bandit
horde, which, under the famous Guic-
che so long made the Val d. Arno a
neighborhood to be carefully avoided
by cautious travellers unless well con-
voyed. The scene lighted by the
falling sunbeams was picturesque
one. Heaped in effective disorder
were all sorts of stutfs and cush-
ions which had evidently been grouped
here that advantage might be taken of
daylight. The rocky floor of the cave
was covered by those coarse, gay col
ored rugs one sees everywhere in Italy
spread in the markets; and upon these
were piled in two or three places cush-
ions of crimson velvet which were un-
mistakably the spoils of some sacrile-
giously pillaged church. A mule
saddle, over which was thrown guam
tity of yellow stuff which had probably
once been curtain in some lofty door
way or window, served as a support
against which leaned the pretty should
er of maiden who sat upon a low
stool and spun upon distaff.
In its course zenithwards th.t April
day the sun had looked upon many a
beautiful thing; the pleached orchards
of peach and almond trees, drifted
thick with blossoms pink and white;
the sunny valleys where the purple
anemones waved thick above the
sward; the long hedgerows frosted
thick with thorn blooms, and the fields
emerald green with the spring wheat;
but III all its long mornings journey
the sun had seen nothing half so lovely
as this young maiden who sat spinning
just where the noon sunshine was tenn
pered into soft light by mingling with
the shadows OF the cave. She sat like
one of the imprisoned ladies who
brighten the pages of old romance; and
indeed little enough like bit of sober
and realistic nineteenth century life was
the whole group of which she formed
a part The maiden was spinning with
commendable diligence, yet was not
too much occupied with her work to
carry on a brisk conversation with a
handsome young man in peasant s
holiday dress, from whose face she was
gradually chasing away the frowns
which had heavily obscured it. The
damsel had Enthusiastically the air of be-
ing at ease and at home; while it was
equally evident that the youth was a
prisoner. As a matter of fact the young
fellow, who had a general appearance
of having come on to the scene from
the green-room of the opera-house, was
a stout innkeeper who had been capt
ured on the night previous on his way
home from a trip to Florence. In the
opera-housc q bandit chief would have
scorned to meddle with one of his class,
but Guicche, who possessed the double
disadvantage of not being set to music
and of being very set in his own way,
regarded as fish whatever came to his
net. The prisoner looked about him
from time to time IN 4 certain inVolun-
tary attempt to discover means of es-
cape; but the gloomy receSses of the
cave encompassed him on all sides, a
sturdy old brigand lay smoking Just
out OF ear-shot, his carbine ready at
his hand; while even should this guard
ian go off TO sleep, and if he could per-
form the altogether Improbable feat OF
teasing the pretty Lisa, with whom he
talked. into couniving at his gettln
away, there in the shadow behind her
sat the old mother of the terrible Guic-
che, wrinkled and implacable fate,
knitting and watching.
''Horrid old hag!" he muttered in-
wardly. "She can see in the dark,
anyway, and she has the evil eye"
He gave an impatient twist to his
shoulders and wholly lost the thread OF
what the spinner was saying.
You do not hear" she said, smil-
ing. 'But then perhaps you have i'm
portant matters to think about. Some
times our visitors do. y
She smiled dazzlingiy, as she made
this allusion to the character of brigand
hospitality; but the brow of the young
man grew darker.
If tell YOU" he demanded with
fierce brusqueness, Twill you tell them,
so they'll make the ransom larger?
NO" the girl answered with evil
dent sincerity. You can trust me.
"Well, then; was to be married to-
morrow"
''Oh. holy Virginr' she exclaimed.
growing suddenly pale.
I'D been to Florence for fairing.
| can afford it, you understands" he
went on with evident pride in his own
consequence. 1.-The times are bad
enough, but our inn is the oldest in the
whole country for twenty leagues, and
since my father died, it is all mine.
Your father was Andrea Diedap"
Lisa said rather reiiectively than inter
rogatively.
Yes" he answered; show did you
hnow?"
The oldest inn is the Horn of
Grapes" returned she, regarding him
with curious closeness. Everybody
knows that; aud that old Drea Dieda
kept it."
He was not fully satisfied with her
| answer, and perhaps she noticed his
unwililngness to accept it, for she
| added:
| Besides there are those in the band
from your village. l have even been
| in Pelago myself. l know just how the
hill of Patronage looks from your inn
| door. all over dark spots of pine for.
ests and the convent that shows out of
| its hollow and the Paradisino higher
| up that the sun strikes on so early"
"BeniSSimo!" cried the prisoner ex.
citedly. ''but you do really know our
inn. You have been there surely. But
| when?"
Il cannot tell a stranger all that We
| do here III the mountains, was tht
| evasive answer. ''Our coming anc
| goings are as little to be counted upor
| as those of the wind. Who knows j
some day you will not again see me il