Obeyed, of course, stifling the fury that raged within me, though I
felt for the moment that he was my most deadly foe.
On my way, however, a ray of reflection came across my mind. I
perceived that the captain was but following with strictness the
terrible laws to which we had sworn fidelity. That the passion by which
I had been blinded might with justice have been fatal to me but for his
forbearance; that he had penetrated my soul, and had taken precautions,
by sending me out of the way, to prevent my committing any excess in my
anger. From that instant I felt that I was capable of pardoning him.
Occupied with these thoughts, I arrived at the foot of the mountain.
The country was solitary and secure; and in a short time I beheld the
shepherd at a distance crossing the plain. I hastened to meet him. He
had obtained nothing. He had found the father plunged in the deepest
distress. He had read the letter with violent emotion, and then calming
himself with a sudden exertion, he had replied coldly, "My daughter has
been dishonored by those wretches; let her be returned without ransom,
or let her die!"
I shuddered at this reply. I knew, according to the laws of our troop,
her death was inevitable. Our oaths required it. I felt, nevertheless,
that, not having been able to have her to myself, I could become her
executioner!
The robber again paused with agitation. I sat musing upon his last
Frightful words, which proved to what excess the passions may be
carried when escaped from all moral restraint. There was a horrible
verity in this story that reminded me of some of the tragic fictions of
Dante.
We now came to a fatal moment, resumed the bandit. After the report of
the shepherd, I returned with him, and the chieftain received from his
lips the refusal of the father. At a signal, which we all understood,
we followed him some distance from the victim. He there pronounced her
sentence of death. Every one stood ready to execute his order; but I
interfered. I observed that there was something due to pity, as well as
to justice. That I was as ready as any one to approve the implacable
law which was to serve as a warning to all those who hesitated to pay
the ransoms demanded for our prisoners, but that, though the sacrifice
was proper, it ought to be made without cruelty. The night is
approaching, continued I; she will soon be wrapped in sleep; let her
then be despatched. All that I now claim on the score of former
fondness for her is, let me strike the blow. I will do it as surely,
but more tenderly than another.
