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.
