The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1885-10-15


books, is in real life far different at
fair from those well grouped receptions
with which everybody is familiar upon
the operate stage. At the appearance
of the flower signal, the sentinel with
! the carbine disappeared in one direc-
/ ton to unfasten the artificial barriers
(which had been added to those provided
| by nature at the entrance of the ca
| vern; while old Lucia silently withdrew
t in an opposite direction towards those
portions of the cave devoted to culina-
| rv purposes. Lisa stood where she had
| picked up the flower, the light from
above falling full upon her, although
| the sunshine now touched only the
hanging rocks just below the opening.
| She did not move, when in a moment
| steps were heard approaching, and the
terrible Guicche himself came towards
| them.
The robber chief was a strongly built
man of two and thirty. with eyes of re-
markable power and penetration. He
| greeted Andrea with ''baton giorna. !"
which if careless was not discourteous,
passing him by with an evident eager
ness to speak to Lisa
How has the day gomez" he began.
Has"
His eye caught sight of the flower in
| the girls belt, and the hot blood sud-
denly surged into his cheeks. He took
long, quick stride forward and caught
| her by the wrist.
.1s it SOP" he demanded with fierce
| gladness. SIS it my anemone?"
Her head dropped and she did not
| answer, but she suffered him to draw
| her into his arms and to kiss her pas
| sionately.
Sat lastr' he exclaimed fervently.
! ''Ah, cGriSStnaa!'
Andrea was involuntarily spectator
to this scene, and he was by no means
| of so refined sensitiveness as to turn
| away. He looked on with a sympa-
| thetic grin, in which was even flavor
| of envy which i'll became the af1ianced
| of Caterina, who hoped tomorrow to
| be her husband. The bandit, too over
| ioyed that after so long waiting his
! love at last had taken up the flower
| which everyday he threw at her feet,
| to be very severe, yet was not minded
! that his prisoner should watch the first
| endearments Lisa had ever consented
to receive from him. Calling one of
| his men, he had Andrea led off into the
winding, torchlit gloom OF the cave,
| leaving him alone with the beautiful
! maiden.
! Guicche watched the figures of his
man and Andrea disappear into the
! shadows. Tnen he turned to Lisa and
took her by the shoulders in power
ful but not unfriendly grasp.
''What has done it?" ho said incred-
ulously. at is two good years since
| you said that when you were ready to
marry NE you'd take up my flower;
| and only last JeS!G-'
Come" returned Lisa, with admira-
BILE coquetry, 'if you are going over
all the old complaints Of my cruelty.
III throw the anemone away again. !
never meduJ 10 LahU IL up any way; but
that poor young man-and so hand
some as he is, tooi-was ust telling me
! that he was to have been married to-
morrow, and just then the flower came
/ tum bling down and | was so confused
and pitied him SO, and talking of mar
riages, YOU know"
'.Put you in mind" interrupted
Guicche, hugging her tumultuously,
that you might yourself be bride if
you wanted to be-
"Ch, no." she persisted, sit was all
pity for him. It's all his doing, not
| yours"
Then he shall be sent home this
very night" cried the bandit bolster
ously, Il Il pay the ransom myself,
and I've half mind to so dance at his
wedding"
And have the cGrabiniert shoot you
as full of holes rs a SKINNER" was her
retort. Indeed, but you'll do nothing
of the kind. It would be we'll enough
10 send him OF, but you'll not 90,
promise YOU"
At which proof of solicitude. Lisa had
! to submit to new and more ardent ca
! resscs.
Lisa had gained her point so easily
| that what she had done as a great sac
| ritce began to seem to her absurdly
over large. 1t is true she had accom-
| plished the liberation of Andrea. but it
| had come so easily, it had indeed been
| Guicche's own proposition. that she
had begun to wonder whether a simple
request on her part would not have
| been amply sufficient without giving
| herself as the price of her old friend 5
| liberation.
She had found too, that the sacri-
! fee was really far less disagreeable
than she had anticipated. She had all
| along repulsed the advances Of Guicche
rather as a temporary feeling than as a
final determination; although she had
| always taken much pains to assure
| herself that she was still faithful to the
/ boy lover with whom she had left the
| home to which she had never returned.
| IL is probable, however, that q COM
| monplace reality in sturdy human flesh
! and blood such as Andrea had appeared
! TO her, must necessarily find it difficult
! to hold his own with an ideal made
more tender and nigh as the years adj
! Vanced. Not even the great advan-
| tage which Andrea's prospective nup-
| tials to another gave him, could quite
overcome this disenchantment; espec-
tally when so heroic figure as that of
| Guicche was at hand for comparison
and rivalry. A man who i a captive,
/ moreover, must be very pathetic to be
effective when the female heart is con-
cerned, and Andrea, stout, healthy ard
rather sulky, scarcely fulfilled this con-
| dition.
Lisa babe him good bye with strong
feeling OF virtuous elation at having
sacrificed herself for him. She gave
| him a token for his bride, and saw all
! the fairings he had bought at Florence
faithfully restored to him. She saw him
blindfolded preparatory to being taken
away. and then, impelled by sudden
impulse, she stopped and whispered in
| his ear:
Il am Lisa. The wolves didn't eat
me.n
The young innkeeper started as if a
| pistol had been discharged in his ear.
He called out eager questions; he strug-
gled with the guards who bore him
away and begged for moments S
respite; for leave to speak but dozen
words with his suddenly rebound friend.
But Lisa laughingly made the brigands
as sign to 60 on, and Andrea was hur-
| ried away in n fashion which his resist
! boI II