"Miserable coward!" Orso cried out. He had hardly finished speaking when he saw the flash of Orlanduccio's gun; and at almost the same instant a second shot came from his left, on the other side of the path, discharged by a man whom he had not seen, and who had aimed from behind another wall. Both balls hit him; the first, that of Orlanduccio, passed through his left arm, which had been extended forward in taking aim; the other struck him in the breast and tore his coat, but fortunately coming in contact with the blade of his stiletto, flattened out against it, and made only a slight bruise.

Orso's left arm sank motionless at his side, and the barrel of his gun dropped for an instant; but he immediately raised it again, and aiming with his right hand alone, fired at Orlanduccio, whose head, which had been visible only down to the eyes, disappeared behind the wall. Orso, turning to the left, discharged his second shot at a man so enveloped in smoke that he could scarcely be seen. This figure in turn disappeared.

The four shots had succeeded one another with incredible swiftness, and trained soldiers never left a shorter interval between their firings. After Orso's last shot everything became silent. The smoke from his gun rose slowly towards the sky; there was no movement behind the wall, not the slightest noise. If it had not been for the pain which he felt in his arm, he could have believed that the men at whom he had just shot were phantoms of his imagination.

Expecting a second shot, Orso moved a few steps in order to place himself behind one of the burnt trees standing in the maquis. Behind this shelter he placed his gun between his knees, and hastily reloaded it. His left arm pained him cruelly, and it seemed as if he were sustaining an enormous weight. What had become of his enemies? He could not understand. If they had fled, or if they had been wounded, he would certainly have heard some noise, some movement in the foliage. Were they dead, then, or rather, were they not waiting under the protection of the wall for an opportunity to fire upon him again? In this state of uncertainty, feeling his strength fail, he placed his right knee on the ground, rested his wounded arm on the other, and made use of a branch projecting from the trunk of the burnt tree to support his gun. With his finger on the trigger, his eyes fixed on the wall, and his ears attentive to the slightest sound, he remained without stirring for several minutes, which seemed to him a century. Finally, far behind

him, a sharp cry was heard; and soon a dog descended the slope like a flash of lightning, and stopped beside him wagging his tail. It was Brusco, the disciple and companion of the bandits, announcing without doubt the arrival of his master; and never was honest man waited for more impatiently.

The dog, with his nose in the air, turned in the direction of the nearest inclosure, sniffing restlessly. Suddenly he uttered a low growl, cleared the wall with one bound, and almost immediately jumped back upon the top of it, where he looked fixedly at Orso, expressing surprise with his eyes as clearly as a dog can do it; then he started off again with his nose in the wind, this time in the direction of the other inclosure, the wall of which he leaped. At the end of a second he reappeared on the top, showing the same feeling of astonishment and restlessness; then he plunged into the maquis with his tail between his legs, and walking sidewise he withdrew slowly, keeping his eyes fixed on Orso until he was some distance away. Then he began to run again, and remounted the hill almost as quickly as he had descended it, until he met a man who was advancing rapidly in spite of the steepness of the slope. "Here, Brando!" shouted Orso, when he believed him within hearing distance.

"Well, Ors' Anton'! are you wounded?" asked Brandolaccio, as he ran up quite out of breath. "In the body or the limbs?"

"In the arm."

"The arm! that's nothing. What about the other man?" "I think I hit him."

Brandolaccio, following his dog, hastened to the nearest inclosure, and leaned over the wall in order to look on the other side. As he hung there he took off his cap and said:"Good morning to Signor Orlanduccio!" Then he turned towards Orso, and saluted him in turn in a perfectly serious "That," he said, "is what I call a man neatly served

manner.

up.'

"Is he still alive?" asked Orso, breathing with difficulty. "Oh, no! nothing of the kind; he had too much pain from that ball you put into his eye. By the blood of the Virgin, what a hole! A good gun, upon my word! What size! How it does crush one's brains! I say, Ors' Anton', when I first heard pif! pif! I said to myself, 'Confound it! they are murdering my lieutenant!' Then I heard boom! boom! Ah!'

said I, 'that is the English gun talking; he is returning the shot.'Well, Brusco, what do you want of me?"

The dog led him to the other inclosure. "Bless me!" cried Brandolaccio, in surprise. "A double hit-nothing more nor less! The deuce! it is evident that powder is dear, for you are economical with it."

"What is it, in God's name?" asked Orso.

"Come, come! none of your jokes, lieutenant! You bring game to the ground, and want some one to pick it up for you. There's one man who will have a funny dessert to-day, and that's Lawyer Barricini! Here is butcher's meat, plenty of it! Now who the deuce will be his heir?"

"What! Vincentello dead too?" "Dead as a doornail.

Good health to the rest of us! The good thing about you is that you don't make them suffer. Just come and see Vincentello; he is still on his knees, with his head leaning against the wall. He looks as if he were asleep. This is what might be called a leaden sleep. Poor wretch! Orso turned his head away in horror. "Are you sure that

he is dead?"

"You are like Sampiero Corso, who never gave more than one blow. Look, here, in the breast, on the left, it is exactly the way Vincileone was hit at Waterloo. I wager that the ball is not far from the heart. A double shot! Ah, I will have nothing more to do with shooting! Two in two shots! with bullets! The two brothers! he would have killed the papa! time. What a shot, Ors' Anton'! happened to a brave fellow like me to make a double shot at the police!

If he had had a third shot
He will do better another
And to think that it never

While talking, the bandit examined Orso's arm, and slit open his sleeve with his stiletto.

"That is nothing," he said. "This coat will give Colomba some work. Ah! what do I see? this tear in the front of it? Did anything enter there? No, you would not be so gay. Here, try to move your fingers do you feel my teeth when I bite your little finger? Not at all? That is all right then; it won't amount to anything. Let me take your handkerchief and cravat; your frock coat is entirely spoiled. Why are you arrayed so finely? Are you on the way to your wedding? There, drink a drop of wine. Why don't you carry a gourd? Does a Corsican ever go out without a gourd?" Then, in the

midst of the dressing, he interrupted himself to exclaim: "A double shot! Both of them stark dead! How the vicar will laugh- a double shot! Ah, here comes that little snail of a Chilina.

Orso did not answer. He was as pale as death, and was trembling from head to foot.

"Chili!" shouted Brandolaccio, "go and look behind that wall. How's that?"

The child, making use of her feet and hands, clambered up on the wall, and as soon as she perceived the corpse of Orlanduccio, made the sign of the cross.

"That isn't anything," continued the bandit; "go and look farther, over there.'

The child again made the sign of the cross.

"Did you do it, uncle?" she asked timidly.

"I haven't I become an old good-for-nothing? Chili, it is the work of this gentleman. Pay him your compliments." "Colomba will be very glad," said Chilina; "and she will be very sorry to know that you are wounded, Ors' Anton'."

"Here, Örs' Anton'," said the bandit, when he had finished the dressing. "Chilina has caught your horse. Mount, and come with me to the maquis of Stazzona. He would be a clever man who could find you there. We will give you our best treatment. When we get to the cross of Saint Christine, you must dismount. You will give your horse to Chilina, who will go to inform Colomba about you, and on the way you will give her your messages. You can tell everything to the little girl, Ors' Anton'; she would rather be hacked to pieces than betray her friends." Then in a gentle tone he said: “Here, you little jade, be excommunicated, rogue!" Since Brandolaccio, like many bandits, was superstitious, he was afraid of fascinating children by addressing to them benedictions of praises; for every one knows that the mysterious powers exercised by looks and speech have the bad habit of bringing about just the opposite of what we wish.

"Where do you want me to go, Brando?" asked Orso, in a faint voice.

"Why, that is for you to choose,-to prison or to the maquis. But a della Rebbia does not know the way to prison. Go to the maquis, Ors' Anton'!"

"Farewell to all my hopes, then!" moaned the wounded

man.

"Your hopes! The deuce! did you hope to do better with a double-barreled gun? Come, now! how did they manage to hit you? These fellows must have had as many lives as a cat to do it.'

"They shot first," replied Orso. "That's so-I forgot. Pif! pif! boom! boom! A double shot with one hand! When any one beats that, I shall go hang. Oh! there you are mounted; before going, just take a look at your work. It is not polite to leave the company without saying good-by."

Orso spurred his horse; he would not for anything in the world have looked at the unfortunate men whom he had just killed.

"Look here, Ors' Anton'," said the bandit, seizing Orso's reins, "will you let me speak frankly? Well, with no offense to you, I am grieved about these two young men. I beg you to excuse me, they were so handsome, so strong, so young. I have hunted with Orlanduccio many a time. Only four days ago he gave me a package of cigars. And Vincentello was always so good-natured! It is true that you have done what you ought to have done; and, besides, the shot was too fine to be regretted. But as for me, I had nothing to do with your revenge. I know that you are right; when one has an enemy, one must get rid of him. But the Barricinis were one of the old families-now there is one less of them, and by a double shot! It is really curious."

Thus making the funeral oration of the Barricinis, Brandolaccio hastily conducted Orso, Chilina, and the dog Brusco towards the maquis of Stazzona.

CLASSIC CHINESE POEMS.1

(From the Shi-King: translated by William Jennings.)

A CHALLENGE.

[This is a parallel, from the woman's side, to George Wither's "Shall I, pining in Despair."]

Ir, boy, thy thoughts of me were kind,
I'd lift my skirts and wade the Tsin;

By permission of G. Routledge & Sons. (Price 38. 6d.)