IT was market-day in Brisighella, and the country folk had come in from the villages and hamlets of the district with their pigs and poultry1, their dairy produce and droves of half-wild mountain cattle. The market-place was thronged2 with a perpetually shifting crowd, laughing, joking, bargaining for dried figs4, cheap cakes, and sunflower seeds. The brown, bare-footed children sprawled5, face downward, on the pavement in the hot sun, while their mothers sat under the trees with their baskets of butter and eggs.
Monsignor Montanelli, coming out to wish the people "Good-morning," was at once surrounded by a clamourous throng3 of children, holding up for his acceptance great bunches of irises6 and scarlet7 poppies and sweet white narcissus from the mountain slopes. His passion for wild flowers was affectionately tolerated by the people, as one of the little follies8 which sit gracefully9 on very wise men. If anyone less universally beloved had filled his house with weeds and grasses they would have laughed at him; but the "blessed Cardinal10" could afford a few harmless eccentricities11.
"Well, Mariuccia," he said, stopping to pat one of the children on the head; "you have grown since I saw you last. And how is the grandmother's rheumatism12?"
"She's been better lately, Your Eminence13; but mother's bad now."
"I'm sorry to hear that; tell the mother to come down here some day and see whether Dr. Giordani can do anything for her. I will find somewhere to put her up; perhaps the change will do her good. You are looking better, Luigi; how are your eyes?"
He passed on, chatting with the mountaineers. He always remembered the names and ages of the children, their troubles and those of their parents; and would stop to inquire, with sympathetic interest, for the health of the cow that fell sick at Christmas, or of the rag-doll that was crushed under a cart-wheel last market-day.
When he returned to the palace the marketing14 began. A lame15 man in a blue shirt, with a shock of black hair hanging into his eyes and a deep scar across the left cheek, lounged up to one of the booths and, in very bad Italian, asked for a drink of lemonade.
"You're not from these parts," said the woman who poured it out, glancing up at him.
"No. I come from Corsica."
"Looking for work?"
"Yes; it will be hay-cutting time soon, and a gentleman that has a farm near Ravenna came across to Bastia the other day and told me there's plenty of work to be got there."
"I hope you'll find it so, I'm sure, but times are bad hereabouts."
"They're worse in Corsica, mother. I don't know what we poor folk are coming to."
"Have you come over alone?"
"No, my mate is with me; there he is, in the red shirt. Hola, Paolo!"
Michele hearing himself called, came lounging up with his hands in his pockets. He made a fairly good Corsican, in spite of the red wig16 which he had put on to render himself unrecognizable. As for the Gadfly, he looked his part to perfection.
They sauntered through the market-place together, Michele whistling between his teeth, and the Gadfly trudging17 along with a bundle over his shoulder, shuffling18 his feet on the ground to render his lameness19 less observable. They were waiting for an emissary, to whom important directions had to be given.
"There's Marcone, on horseback, at that corner," Michele whispered suddenly. The Gadfly, still carrying his bundle, shuffled20 towards the horseman.
"Do you happen to be wanting a hay-maker, sir?" he said, touching21 his ragged22 cap and running one finger along the bridle23. It was the signal agreed upon, and the rider, who from his appearance might have been a country squire's bailiff, dismounted and threw the reins24 on the horse's neck.
"What sort of work can you do, my man?"
The Gadfly fumbled25 with his cap.
"I can cut grass, sir, and trim hedges"--he began; and without any break in his voice, went straight on: "At one in the morning at the mouth of the round cave. You must have two good horses and a cart. I shall be waiting inside the cave---- And then I can dig, sir, and----"
"That will do, I only want a grass-cutter. Have you ever been out before?"
"Once, sir. Mind, you must come well-armed; we may meet a flying squadron. Don't go by the wood-path; you're safer on the other side. If you meet a spy, don't stop to argue with him; fire at once---- I should be very glad of work, sir."
"Yes, I dare say, but I want an experienced grass-cutter. No, I haven't got any coppers26 to-day."
A very ragged beggar had slouched up to them, with a doleful, monotonous27 whine28.
"Have pity on a poor blind man, in the name of the Blessed Virgin------ Get out of this place at once; there's a flying squadron coming along---- Most Holy Queen of Heaven, Maiden29 undefiled-- It's you they're after, Rivarez; they'll be here in two minutes---- And so may the saints reward you---- You'll have to make a dash for it; there are spies at all the corners. It's no use trying to slip away without being seen."
Marcone slipped the reins into the Gadfly's hand.
"Make haste! Ride out to the bridge and let the horse go; you can hide in the ravine. We're all armed; we can keep them back for ten minutes."
"No. I won't have you fellows taken. Stand together, all of you, and fire after me in order. Move up towards our horses; there they are, tethered by the palace steps; and have your knives ready. We retreat fighting, and when I throw my cap down, cut the halters and jump every man on the nearest horse. We may all reach the wood that way."
They had spoken in so quiet an undertone that even the nearest bystanders had not supposed their conversation to refer to anything more dangerous than grass-cutting. Marcone, leading his own mare32 by the bridle, walked towards the tethered horses, the Gadfly slouching along beside him, and the beggar following them with an outstretched hand and a persistent33 whine. Michele came up whistling; the beggar had warned him in passing, and he quietly handed on the news to three countrymen who were eating raw onions under a tree. They immediately rose and followed him; and before anyone's notice had been attracted to them, the whole seven were standing34 together by the steps of the palace, each man with one hand on the hidden pistol, and the tethered horses within easy reach.
"Don't betray yourselves till I move," the Gadfly said softly and clearly. "They may not recognize us. When I fire, then begin in order. Don't fire at the men; lame their horses--then they can't follow us. Three of you fire, while the other three reload. If anyone comes between you and our horses, kill him. I take the roan. When I throw down my cap, each man for himself; don't stop for anything."
"Here they come," said Michele; and the Gadfly turned round, with an air of naive35 and stupid wonder, as the people suddenly broke off in their bargaining.
Fifteen armed men rode slowly into the marketplace. They had great difficulty to get past the throng of people at all, and, but for the spies at the corners of the square, all the seven conspirators36 could have slipped quietly away while the attention of the crowd was fixed37 upon the soldiers. Michele moved a little closer to the Gadfly.
"Couldn't we get away now?"
"No; we're surrounded with spies, and one of them has recognized me. He has just sent a man to tell the captain where I am. Our only chance is to lame their horses."
"Which is the spy?"
"The first man I fire at. Are you all ready? They have made a lane to us; they are going to come with a rush."
"Out of the way there!" shouted the captain. "In the name of His Holiness!"
The crowd had drawn38 back, startled and wondering; and the soldiers made a quick dash towards the little group standing by the palace steps. The Gadfly drew a pistol from his blouse and fired, not at the advancing troops, but at the spy, who was approaching the horses, and who fell back with a broken collar-bone. Immediately after the report, six more shots were fired in quick succession, as the conspirators moved steadily39 closer to the tethered horses.
One of the cavalry40 horses stumbled and plunged41; another fell to the ground with a fearful cry. Then, through the shrieking42 of the panic-stricken people, came the loud, imperious voice of the officer in command, who had risen in the stirrups and was holding a sword above his head.
"This way, men!"
He swayed in the saddle and sank back; the Gadfly had fired again with his deadly aim. A little stream of blood was trickling43 down the captain's uniform; but he steadied himself with a violent effort, and, clutching at his horse's mane, cried out fiercely:
"Kill that lame devil if you can't take him alive! It's Rivarez!"
"Another pistol, quick!" the Gadfly called to his men; "and go!"
He flung down his cap. It was only just in time, for the swords of the now infuriated soldiers were flashing close in front of him.
"Put down your weapons, all of you!"
Cardinal Montanelli had stepped suddenly between the combatants; and one of the soldiers cried out in a voice sharp with terror:
"Your Eminence! My God, you'll be murdered!"
Montanelli only moved a step nearer, and faced the Gadfly's pistol.
Five of the conspirators were already on horseback and dashing up the hilly street. Marcone sprang on to the back of his mare. In the moment of riding away, he glanced back to see whether his leader was in need of help. The roan was close at hand, and in another instant all would have been safe; but as the figure in the scarlet cassock stepped forward, the Gadfly suddenly wavered and the hand with the pistol sank down. The instant decided44 everything. Immediately he was surrounded and flung violently to the ground, and the weapon was dashed out of his hand by a blow from the flat of a soldier's sword. Marcone struck his mare's flank with the stirrup; the hoofs45 of the cavalry horses were thundering up the hill behind him; and it would have been worse than useless to stay and be taken too. Turning in the saddle as he galloped46 away, to fire a last shot in the teeth of the nearest pursuer, he saw the Gadfly, with blood on his face, trampled47 under the feet of horses and soldiers and spies; and heard the savage48 curses of the captors, the yells of triumph and rage.
Montanelli did not notice what had happened; he had moved away from the steps, and was trying to calm the terrified people. Presently, as he stooped over the wounded spy, a startled movement of the crowd made him look up. The soldiers were crossing the square, dragging their prisoner after them by the rope with which his hands were tied. His face was livid with pain and exhaustion49, and he panted fearfully for breath; but he looked round at the Cardinal, smiling with white lips, and whispered:
"I c-cong-gratulate your Eminence."
. . . . .
Five days later Martini reached Forli. He had received from Gemma by post a bundle of printed circulars, the signal agreed upon in case of his being needed in any special emergency; and, remembering the conversation on the terrace, he guessed the truth at once. All through the journey he kept repeating to himself that there was no reason for supposing anything to have happened to the Gadfly, and that it was absurd to attach any importance to the childish superstitions50 of so nervous and fanciful a person; but the more he reasoned with himself against the idea, the more firmly did it take possession of his mind.
"I have guessed what it is: Rivarez is taken, of course?" he said, as he came into Gemma's room.
"He was arrested last Thursday, at Brisighella. He defended himself desperately51 and wounded the captain of the squadron and a spy."
"Armed resistance; that's bad!"
"It makes no difference; he was too deeply compromised already for a pistol-shot more or less to affect his position much."
"What do you think they are going to do with him?"
She grew a shade paler even than before.
"I think," she said; "that we must not wait to find out what they mean to do."
"You think we shall be able to effect a rescue?"
"We MUST."
He turned away and began to whistle, with his hands behind his back. Gemma let him think undisturbed. She was sitting still, leaning her head against the back of the chair, and looking out into vague distance with a fixed and tragic52 absorption. When her face wore that expression, it had a look of Durer's "Melancolia."
"Have you seen him?" Martini asked, stopping for a moment in his tramp.
"No; he was to have met me here the next morning."
"Yes, I remember. Where is he?"
"In the fortress53; very strictly54 guarded, and, they say, in chains."
He made a gesture of indifference55.
"Oh, that's no matter; a good file will get rid of any number of chains. If only he isn't wounded----"
"He seems to have been slightly hurt, but exactly how much we don't know. I think you had better hear the account of it from Michele himself; he was present at the arrest."
"How does he come not to have been taken too? Did he run away and leave Rivarez in the lurch56?"
"It's not his fault; he fought as long as anybody did, and followed the directions given him to the letter. For that matter, so did they all. The only person who seems to have forgotten, or somehow made a mistake at the last minute, is Rivarez himself. There's something inexplicable57 about it altogether. Wait a moment; I will call Michele."
She went out of the room, and presently came back with Michele and a broad-shouldered mountaineer.
"This is Marco," she said. "You have heard of him; he is one of the smugglers. He has just got here, and perhaps will be able to tell us more. Michele, this is Cesare Martini, that I spoke30 to you about. Will you tell him what happened, as far as you saw it?"
Michele gave a short account of the skirmish with the squadron.
"I can't understand how it happened," he concluded. "Not one of us would have left him if we had thought he would be taken; but his directions were quite precise, and it never occurred to us, when he threw down his cap, that he would wait to let them surround him. He was close beside the roan--I saw him cut the tether--and I handed him a loaded pistol myself before I mounted. The only thing I can suppose is that he missed his footing,--being lame,--in trying to mount. But even then, he could have fired."
"No, it wasn't that," Marcone interposed. "He didn't attempt to mount. I was the last one to go, because my mare shied at the firing; and I looked round to see whether he was safe. He would have got off clear if it hadn't been for the Cardinal."
"Ah!" Gemma exclaimed softly; and Martini repeated in amazement59: "The Cardinal?"
"Yes; he threw himself in front of the pistol-- confound him! I suppose Rivarez must have been startled, for he dropped his pistol-hand and put the other one up like this"--laying the back of his left wrist across his eyes--"and of course they all rushed on him."
"I can't make that out," said Michele. "It's not like Rivarez to lose his head at a crisis."
"Probably he lowered his pistol for fear of killing60 an unarmed man," Martini put in. Michele shrugged61 his shoulders.
"Unarmed men shouldn't poke31 their noses into the middle of a fight. War is war. If Rivarez had put a bullet into His Eminence, instead of letting himself be caught like a tame rabbit, there'd be one honest man the more and one priest the less."
He turned away, biting his moustache. His anger was very near to breaking down in tears.
"Anyway," said Martini, "the thing's done, and there's no use wasting time in discussing how it happened. The question now is how we're to arrange an escape for him. I suppose you're all willing to risk it?"
Michele did not even condescend62 to answer the superfluous63 question, and the smuggler58 only remarked with a little laugh: "I'd shoot my own brother, if he weren't willing."
"Very well, then---- First thing; have you got a plan of the fortress?"
Gemma unlocked a drawer and took out several sheets of paper.
"I have made out all the plans. Here is the ground floor of the fortress; here are the upper and lower stories of the towers, and here the plan of the ramparts. These are the roads leading to the valley, and here are the paths and hiding-places in the mountains, and the underground passages."
"Do you know which of the towers he is in?"
"The east one, in the round room with the grated window. I have marked it on the plan."
"How did you get your information?"
"From a man nicknamed 'The Cricket,' a soldier of the guard. He is cousin to one of our men--Gino."
"You have been quick about it."
"There's no time to lose. Gino went into Brisighella at once; and some of the plans we already had. That list of hiding-places was made by Rivarez himself; you can see by the handwriting."
"What sort of men are the soldiers of the guard?"
"That we have not been able to find out yet; the Cricket has only just come to the place, and knows nothing about the other men."
"We must find out from Gino what the Cricket himself is like. Is anything known of the government's intentions? Is Rivarez likely to be tried in Brisighella or taken in to Ravenna?"
"That we don't know. Ravenna, of course, is the chief town of the Legation and by law cases of importance can be tried only there, in the Tribunal of First Instance. But law doesn't count for much in the Four Legations; it depends on the personal fancy of anybody who happens to be in power."
"They won't take him in to Ravenna," Michele interposed.
"What makes you think so?"
"I am sure of it. Colonel Ferrari, the military Governor at Brisighella, is uncle to the officer that Rivarez wounded; he's a vindictive64 sort of brute65 and won't give up a chance to spite an enemy."
"You think he will try to keep Rivarez here?"
"I think he will try to get him hanged."
Martini glanced quickly at Gemma. She was very pale, but her face had not changed at the words. Evidently the idea was no new one to her.
"He can hardly do that without some formality," she said quietly; "but he might possibly get up a court-martial on some pretext66 or other, and justify67 himself afterwards by saying that the peace of the town required it."
"But what about the Cardinal? Would he consent to things of that kind?"
"He has no jurisdiction68 in military affairs."
"No, but he has great influence. Surely the Governor would not venture on such a step without his consent?"
"He'll never get that," Marcone interrupted. "Montanelli was always against the military commissions, and everything of the kind. So long as they keep him in Brisighella nothing serious can happen; the Cardinal will always take the part of any prisoner. What I am afraid of is their taking him to Ravenna. Once there, he's lost."
"We shouldn't let him get there," said Michele. "We could manage a rescue on the road; but to get him out of the fortress here is another matter."
"I think," said Gemma; "that it would be quite useless to wait for the chance of his being transferred to Ravenna. We must make the attempt at Brisighella, and we have no time to lose. Cesare, you and I had better go over the plan of the fortress together, and see whether we can think out anything. I have an idea in my head, but I can't get over one point."
"Come, Marcone," said Michele, rising; "we will leave them to think out their scheme. I have to go across to Fognano this afternoon, and I want you to come with me. Vincenzo hasn't sent those cartridges69, and they ought to have been here yesterday."
When the two men had gone, Martini went up to Gemma and silently held out his hand. She let her fingers lie in his for a moment.
"You were always a good friend, Cesare," she said at last; "and a very present help in trouble. And now let us discuss plans."
这天是布里西盖拉赶集的日子，这个地区大小村庄的农民来到这里，带着他们的猪和家禽，以及他们的畜产品和不大驯服的成群山羊。市场里的人们川流不息，他们放声大笑，开着玩笑，为着晾干的无花果、廉价的糕饼和葵瓜子而讨价还价。炎热的阳光下，皮肤棕黑的儿童赤脚趴在人行道上。他们的母亲坐在树下，身边摆着装有奶油和鸡蛋的篮子。
蒙泰尼里大人出来祝愿人们“早安”，他立即就被吵吵嚷嚷的儿童给围住。他们举起大把的燕子花、鲜红的罂粟花和清香的白水仙花，希望他接受这些从山坡上采来的鲜花。人们出于爱意，容忍他对鲜花的喜爱。他们认为这一小小的怪僻与智者十分相称。如果有人不是这样受到众人的热爱，那么他把房间堆满了野草闲花，他们就会嘲笑他。但是“有福的红衣主教”可以有几个无伤大雅的怪癖。
“呃，马尤西亚。”他说，并且停下脚步拍着一个小孩的脑袋。“自从我上次见过你以后，你又长个儿了。你奶奶的风湿病怎么样了？”
“她最近好多了，主教阁下，但是妈妈现在病得厉害。”
“我很难过，告诉妈妈改天到这儿来，看看吉奥丹尼医生有什么法子。我会找个地方安置她，换个环境对她也许会有好处。你的气色好多了，鲁伊吉。你的眼睛怎么样？”
他一路走过，并和山民拉着家常。他总能记住儿童的姓名和年龄，以及他们的难处和他们父母的难处。他会停下脚步，抱着同情的态度，询问圣诞节得病的那只奶牛，以及上一次赶集时被大车轮子压过的破布娃娃。
当他回到宫殿时，集市开始了。一个瘸子穿着蓝布衬衫，一头黑发垂到他的眼睛上，左脸有一道很深的伤疤。他步履蹒跚地走到一个摊子跟前，操着一口蹩脚的意大利语，索要一杯柠檬水喝。
“你不是这儿附近的人。”倒水的女人说道，同时抬起头打量着他。
“不是。我是从科西嘉来的。”
“来找活干？”
“是啊。马上就到了收割干草的季节，有一位先生在拉文纳附近有一个农场，那天他去了科西嘉，告诉我这里有很多活干。”
“我希望你能找到活干，我相信你能，但是这儿一带收成可不好。”
“科西嘉更糟，大娘。我不知道我们这些穷人还有什么活头。”
“你是一个人来的吗？”
“不，我和同伴一起来的。他在那儿，就是穿红衬衫的那个。喂，保罗！”
米歇尔听到有人叫他，于是把手叉在口袋里，晃悠悠地走了过来。尽管他戴着假发，可他打扮得很像一个科西嘉人，连他自己都认不出来。至于牛虻，他这个扮相可以说是天衣无缝。
他们一路闲逛，一起穿过了集市。迈克尔吹着口哨，牛虻肩上挎着一个包裹跟在一旁，拖着脚步，不让别人轻易看出他是个瘸子。他们正在等着送信的人，他们必须向他下达重要的指示。
“马尔科尼在那儿，骑在马上，就在拐角。”迈克尔突然小声说道。牛虻仍然挎着包裹，他拖着脚步朝那个骑马的人走去。
“先生，你想找个收干草的人吗？”他说，一边用手碰了一下他那顶破帽子，一边伸出一根手指去摸缰绳。这是他们原定的暗号。从外表上看，那位骑手也许是一个乡绅的管家。
那人跳下马来，把缰绳扔到马背上。
“伙计，你会干什么活儿？”
牛虻摸索着帽子。
“我会割草，先生，还会修剪篱笆——”他开口说道，一口气接着说了下去。“早晨在那个圆洞的洞口。你必须准备两匹快马和一辆马车。我会等在洞里——还有，我会刨地，先生，还会——”
“那就行了，我只要一个割草的。你以前出来干过吗？”
“干过一次，先生。注意，你们来时必须带枪，我们也许会遇到骑巡队。别从林子这边走，从另一边更安全。如果遇到了暗探，别停下来和他争辩，立即开火——我很高兴去干活，先生。”
一个衣衫褴褛的乞丐懒散地朝他们走来，扯着凄凉单调的声音苦苦哀求。“可怜一个苦命的瞎子吧，看在圣母玛利亚的份上——赶快离开这里，骑巡队正在开来——最神圣的天后，贞洁的圣女——他们是来抓你的，里瓦雷兹。他们两分钟后就到——圣徒或许就会报答你的——你赶紧逃吧，到处都有暗探。要想溜走而不被发现是不可能的。”
马尔科尼把缰绳塞到牛虻的手里。
“快点！骑到桥上就把马放走，你可以藏在山谷里。我们都带了枪，我们可以抵挡十分钟。”
“不。我不能让你们这些人给抓走。靠到一起，全都靠到一起，跟着我依次开枪。靠拢我们的马匹，它们就拴在宫殿的台阶上。把刀准备好。我们边打边撤，等我扔下帽子，就把缰绳砍断，随后跳上最近的马匹。这样我们全都可以到达树林那里。”
他们说话时的语调相当平静，就连最近处的旁观者都没有怀疑他们谈的不是割草，而是更危险的东西。马尔科尼牵着他那匹母马的缰绳，走向拴马的地方。牛虻懒散地走在旁边。那个乞丐伸出双手跟在他们后面，并且一直苦苦哀求。米歇尔吹着口哨跟了上来，那个乞丐擦身而过时对他发出警告，并把消息从容地传给在树下啃着生洋葱的三个农民。他们立即站身来，跟着他走来。没等别人注意上他们，七个人全都站在宫殿的台阶上，每人都把手摁在掖在身上的手枪上。他们轻易就能够着拴在那里的马匹。
“在我动手之前，不要暴露你们。”牛虻说道，语调平和，声音清晰。“他们也许认不出我们。在我开枪时，你们就顺序开枪。不要对着人开枪，打瘸他们的马脚——那样他们就无法追上我们。三个人开枪，其余的人装子弹。如果有人跑到我们和马匹之间，那就打死他。我骑那匹花马。在我扔掉帽子时，各人骑各人的马。无论发生什么都不要停下来。”
“他们来了。”米歇尔说道。牛虻转过身来，露出一副天真而又愚昧的惊愕表情。这时人们突然中止了讨价还价。
十五名武装的士兵骑马缓慢地进入集市。他们很难从人群之中穿过，要是广场拐角没有那些暗探，他们七个革命党人就能悄然溜走。这时人们的注意力全都集中在那些士兵身上。米歇尔略微靠近了牛虻。
“我们现在不能走吗？”
“不能，我们被暗探给包围了，有一个人已经认出了我。
他刚才派了一人去找骑巡队的上尉，告诉他我在什么地方。我们唯一的机会是打瘸他们的马腿。”
“那个暗探是谁？”
“我开枪打的第一个人就是。你们全都作好了准备吗？他们已经清开了一条道路，就要向我们冲过来了。”
“闪开！”那位上尉叫道。“看在圣父的份上！”
人们往后退去，惊恐而又惶惑，士兵们朝着站在宫殿台阶上的那小群人冲了过来。牛虻从衬衫里抽出手枪开了一枪，不是对着前来的士兵，而是朝着接近马匹的暗探。那人被打断了锁骨，应声倒了下去。枪响以后，随后依次迅速响起了六下枪声。同时，七名革命党人从容地靠拢拴在那里的马匹。
骑巡队的一匹马绊了一下，然后倒了下去。另一匹马一声惨叫，随即也栽倒下来。惊恐万状的人们发出了阵阵的尖叫。指挥官已经踩着马鞍站立起来，正把马刀举在头顶上。他气势汹汹，发出高声的断喝。
“这边，弟兄们！”
他在马鞍上晃了几下，然后身体往下一沉。牛虻刚才又开了一枪，把他打个正着。一股细小的血流从上尉的军服上淌了下来，但是他拼命稳住自己。他抓住了马鬃，恶狠狠地大声喊道：“如果不能活捉那个瘸腿的恶魔，那就杀死他。他就是里瓦雷兹！”
“再给我一支枪，快点！”牛虻冲着他的伙伴叫道。“走啊！”
他扔下帽子。这一招来得正是时候，因为那些士兵现在已被激怒了，他们挥着马刀逼到他的跟前。
“你们全都放下武器！”
蒙泰尼里红衣主教突然出现在战斗双方的中间，一名士兵吓得大声叫道：“主教阁下！我的上帝，你会被杀死的！”
蒙泰尼里却又上前一步，面对牛虻的手枪。
五名革命党人已经上了马背，正在奔向崎岖的街道那头。
马尔科尼跳上了他那匹母马。就在骑马离去的瞬间，他回头看看他的领袖是否需要帮忙。那匹花马就在跟前，转瞬之后大家就会平安无事。但在那个穿着大红法衣的身影跨步向前时，牛虻突然摇晃起来，拿枪的那只手垂了下去。这一刻决定了一切。他立即就被包围了起来，并被摁倒在地。一名士兵挥起刀背敲落了他的手枪。马尔科尼踩着马蹬击打马肚子，骑巡队的马匹朝他追来，马蹄声在山坡上响了起来。待在这里他也会被抓住，不仅帮不上忙而且更糟。他在策马驰去的时候，回来对准最近的追兵开了最后的一枪。这时他看见牛虻满脸是血，被踩在马匹的蹄下和暗探的脚下。他听见追捕者恶毒的咒骂，以及胜利和愤怒的呼喊。
蒙泰尼里没有注意到发生了什么。他已经转身离开了台阶，正在试图安慰受了惊吓的人们，当他在受伤的暗探跟前停下脚步时，人群的骚动使他不禁抬起头来。士兵们正在通过广场，他们拖着双手被缚住的俘虏。因为痛苦和疲劳，牛虻的脸色变得煞白。他气喘吁吁，模样实在怕人。但他还是转过身来望着红衣主教，苍白的嘴唇露出微笑。他低声说道：“恭、恭喜、喜你啊，主教阁下。”
马尔蒂尼在五天以后到达弗利。他收到了琼玛邮寄的一包印刷传单。这是他们约定的信号，表明发生了特别的紧急情况，需要他前去。他想起了在阳台上进行的谈话，立即就猜出了事情的真相。
“我已经猜到了是怎么回事。里瓦雷兹已经被捕，对吗？”
他走进琼玛的房间时说。
“他是上星期四被捕的，是在布里西盖拉被捕的。他拼死自卫，并且打伤了骑巡队的上尉和一名暗探。”
“武装抵抗，这可糟了！”
“这没有什么区别。他早就是重大嫌疑犯，多开一枪对他的处境没有多大的影响。”
“你认为他们准备怎么处置他？”
她的脸色变得更加苍白。
“我认为，”她说，“我们不能坐在这里，查明他们想要干什么。”
“你认为我们能够把他成功地营救出来吗？”
“我们必须这么做。”
他转过身去，把手背在后面，开始吹起了口哨。琼玛没有打扰他，让他想出法子来。她一动不动地坐在那儿，头靠在椅背上。她茫然地望着前方，目光呆滞，神情凄然。当她的脸露出这种表情时，她就像是丢勒的铜版雕刻《悲哀》中的人物。
“你见过他了吗？”马尔蒂尼停止踱步问道。
“没有，他原定第二天早晨在这儿见我。”
“对了，我想起来了。他在什么地方？”
“在城堡里，看得很严。他们说还带了手铐脚镣。”
他做了一个无所谓的手势。
“噢，那没关系。只要有把好锉子，什么锁链都能去掉。如果他没有受伤的话——”
“他好像受了轻伤，但是究竟如何我们并不知道。我认为你最好还是听听米歇尔亲自给你讲一下事情的经过，逮捕时他就在场。”
“他怎么没有被捕呢？他跑走了，竟然留下里瓦雷兹不管吗？”
“这并不是他的过错，他和别人一样战斗到底，并且严格执行了给他下达的指示。在这件事上，他们都是这么做的。唯一似乎忘记这一指示的人就是里瓦雷兹自己，要不就是他在最后的关头犯了一个错误，否则也不会发生这样的事情。这事整个解释不清。等一会儿，我去叫来米歇尔。”
她走出房间，很快就带着米歇尔和一位膀大腰圆的山民回来了。
“这是马尔科尼。”她说，“你已经听说过他，他是一个私贩子。他刚到这儿不久，也许他能告诉我们更多的情况。米歇尔，这是塞萨雷，就是我给你说过的那个人。你们能把所见到的情况告诉他吗？”
迈克尔简要地叙述了与骑巡队遭遇的经过。
“我不明白怎么会这样，”他在结束时说道，“如果我们认为他会被捕，那么我们没有一个会把他丢下。但是他的指示十分明确，在他扔下帽子时，我们没有想到他会等着他们把他包围起来。他就在那匹花马的旁边，我看见他砍断了缰绳。我在上马之前，递给他一把上了子弹的手枪。我只能怀疑他在上马的时候失去平衡，因为他腿瘸。”
“不，不是这么回事，”马尔科尼插了进来，“他没有试图上马。我是最后一个走的，因为我的母马听到枪声受了惊。我回头看他是否安然无恙。如果不是因为红衣主教，他就会逃脱的。”
“啊！”琼玛轻声叫道。马尔蒂尼惊讶地重复了一遍：“红衣主教？”
“对，他挡在手枪的前面——他真该死！我想里瓦雷兹一定是吃了一惊，因为他放下了持枪的手，另一只手这样举了起来——”他用左手腕挡住他的眼睛——“当然他们全都冲了上来。”
“我弄不明白，”米歇尔说道，“这不像里瓦雷兹，他在关键时刻从不惊慌失措。”
“他放下手枪，可能是害怕杀死一个手无寸铁的人。”马尔蒂尼插嘴说道，米歇尔耸了耸肩膀。
“手无寸铁的人就不该把鼻子伸进战斗中来。战斗就是战斗。如果里瓦雷兹开枪打死主教阁下，不像一只温顺的兔子一样被人抓住，那么世上就会多一个诚实的人，而少一个教士。”
他转过身去，咬着他的胡须。他气得快要落下泪来。
“反正事已如此，”马尔蒂尼说道，“浪费时间讨论发生了什么与事无补。问题是我们怎样才能安排他越狱。我想你们甘愿冒险吧？”
米歇尔甚至不屑回答这个多余的问题，那位私贩子只是笑着说道：“如果我的兄弟不愿干的话，我会杀死他。”
“那好。第一件事，我们弄到了城堡的平面图吗？”
琼玛打开抽屉，拿出几张图纸。
“我已经画了所有的平面图。这是城堡的底楼，这是塔楼的上层和下层，这是垒墙的平面图。这些是通往山谷的道路，这是山中的小道和藏身的地方，这是地道。”
“你知道他被关在哪个塔楼？”
“东边的那个，就是那个窗户装着铁栏杆的圆屋。我已在图上作了记号。”
“你是怎么得到这个情报的？”
“是从一个绰号叫做‘蟋蟀’的人那里弄来的。他是那里的一名卫兵，是季诺的表兄弟。季诺是我们的人。”
“这事你们做得挺快。”
“没有时间可以浪费。季诺当即就去了布里西盖拉，我们已经弄到了一些平面图。藏身的地方是里瓦雷兹列出来的，你可以看到他的笔迹。”
“看守的士兵是什么样的人？”
“这我们还没能查出来，蟋蟀只是刚到这个地方，对其他士兵不了解。”
“我们必须从季诺那里了解蟋蟀长得什么模样。知道政府的意图吗？里瓦雷兹可能在布里西盖拉受审吗？抑或他会被押到拉文纳？”
“这个我们就不知道了。拉文纳当然是这个教省的省府。根据法律，重大的案子只能在那里审理，是在预审法庭受审。但是法律在四大教省无足轻重，这要取决于掌权者个人好恶。”
“他们不会把他押到拉文纳去。”米歇尔插嘴说道。
“你为什么这样想？”
“我敢肯定。布里西盖拉的军事统领是费拉里上校，就是受伤的那位军官的叔叔。他是个报复心极强的恶棍。他不会放过对一个仇人泄愤的机会。”
“你认为他会设法把里瓦雷兹留在这里吗？”
“我认为他会设法把他绞死。”
马尔蒂尼迅速瞥了一眼琼玛。她的脸色非常苍白，但是听到这些话时，她的脸上并没有变色。显然这个念头对她来说并不新鲜。
“不走走过场，他很难做到这一点，”她平静地说，“但是他可能设立一个军事法庭，寻找这个或者那个借口，然后他就可以名正言顺，声称出于本城的安全需要。”
“但是红衣主教呢？他会同意这样的事情吗？”
“他无权过问军务。”
“不会，但是他的影响力很大。没有得到他的同意，军事统领当然不敢采取这样的行动吧？”
“他永远也不会得到同意，”马尔科尼打断了他的话，“蒙泰尼里总是反对设立军事委员会，以及诸如此类的东西。只要他们把他关在布里西盖拉，那就不会有什么危险。红衣主教总是袒护任何一个犯人。我害怕的是他们会把他押到拉文纳。一旦到了那里，他就完了。”
“我们不该让他们把他押到那里去，”米歇尔说道，“我们可以设法在途中营救他，但是把他从城堡里救出来则是另外一个问题。”
“我认为，”琼玛说道，“坐等他被转移到拉文纳是一点用也没有的。我们必须在布里西盖拉把他搭救出来，我们没有时间可以浪费。塞萨雷，你我最好一起研究城堡的平面图，看看我们能否想出什么办法。我心中有个想法，但是有一个困难解决不了。”
“走吧，马尔科尼，”米歇尔起身说道，“我们让他们研究计划。今天下午我得去福亚诺，我想让你陪我走一趟。文森佐还没有把那些弹药运来，他们应该昨天就到这儿。”
在那两个人走了以后，马尔蒂尼走到琼玛跟前，默默地伸出他的手。她由着他握了一会儿她的手。
“你总是一位好朋友，塞萨雷，”她最终说道，“患难之交。现在让我们来讨论计划吧。”
收听单词发音 |
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poultry
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| n.家禽，禽肉 | |
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thronged
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| v.成群，挤满( throng的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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throng
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| n.人群，群众；v.拥挤，群集 | |
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figs
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| figures 数字，图形，外形 | |
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sprawled
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| v.伸开四肢坐[躺]( sprawl的过去式和过去分词)；蔓延；杂乱无序地拓展；四肢伸展坐着（或躺着） | |
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irises
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| n.虹( iris的名词复数 )；虹膜；虹彩；鸢尾（花） | |
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scarlet
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| n.深红色，绯红色，红衣；adj.绯红色的 | |
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follies
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| 罪恶，时事讽刺剧； 愚蠢，蠢笨，愚蠢的行为、思想或做法( folly的名词复数 ) | |
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gracefully
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| ad.大大方方地；优美地 | |
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cardinal
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| n.(天主教的)红衣主教；adj.首要的，基本的 | |
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eccentricities
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| n.古怪行为( eccentricity的名词复数 )；反常；怪癖 | |
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rheumatism
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| n.风湿病 | |
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eminence
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| n.卓越，显赫；高地，高处；名家 | |
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marketing
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| n.行销，在市场的买卖，买东西 | |
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lame
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| adj.跛的，(辩解、论据等)无说服力的 | |
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wig
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| n.假发 | |
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trudging
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| vt.& vi.跋涉，吃力地走（trudge的现在分词形式） | |
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shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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lameness
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| n. 跛, 瘸, 残废 | |
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shuffled
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| v.洗（纸牌）( shuffle的过去式和过去分词 )；拖着脚步走；粗心地做；摆脱尘世的烦恼 | |
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touching
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| adj.动人的，使人感伤的 | |
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ragged
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| adj.衣衫褴褛的，粗糙的，刺耳的 | |
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bridle
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| n.笼头，束缚；vt.抑制，约束；动怒 | |
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reins
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| 感情，激情； 缰( rein的名词复数 )； 控制手段； 掌管； （成人带着幼儿走路以防其走失时用的）保护带 | |
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fumbled
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| （笨拙地）摸索或处理（某事物）( fumble的过去式和过去分词 )； 乱摸，笨拙地弄； 使落下 | |
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coppers
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| 铜( copper的名词复数 )； 铜币 | |
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monotonous
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| adj.单调的，一成不变的，使人厌倦的 | |
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whine
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| v.哀号，号哭；n.哀鸣 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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spoke
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| n.（车轮的）辐条；轮辐；破坏某人的计划；阻挠某人的行动 v.讲，谈（speak的过去式）；说；演说；从某种观点来说 | |
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poke
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| n.刺，戳，袋；vt.拨开，刺，戳；vi.戳，刺，捅，搜索，伸出，行动散慢 | |
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mare
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| n.母马，母驴 | |
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persistent
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| adj.坚持不懈的，执意的；持续的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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naive
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| adj.幼稚的，轻信的；天真的 | |
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conspirators
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| n.共谋者，阴谋家( conspirator的名词复数 ) | |
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fixed
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| adj.固定的，不变的，准备好的；(计算机)固定的 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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steadily
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| adv.稳定地；不变地；持续地 | |
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cavalry
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| n.骑兵；轻装甲部队 | |
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plunged
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| v.颠簸( plunge的过去式和过去分词 )；暴跌；骤降；突降 | |
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shrieking
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| v.尖叫( shriek的现在分词 ) | |
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trickling
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| n.油画底色含油太多而成泡沫状突起v.滴( trickle的现在分词 )；淌；使)慢慢走；缓慢移动 | |
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decided
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| adj.决定了的，坚决的；明显的，明确的 | |
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hoofs
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| n.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的名词复数 )v.（兽的）蹄，马蹄( hoof的第三人称单数 ) | |
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galloped
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| （使马）飞奔，奔驰( gallop的过去式和过去分词 )； 快速做[说]某事 | |
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trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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savage
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| adj.野蛮的；凶恶的，残暴的；n.未开化的人 | |
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exhaustion
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| n.耗尽枯竭，疲惫，筋疲力尽，竭尽，详尽无遗的论述 | |
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superstitions
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| 迷信，迷信行为( superstition的名词复数 ) | |
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desperately
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| adv.极度渴望地，绝望地，孤注一掷地 | |
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tragic
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| adj.悲剧的，悲剧性的，悲惨的 | |
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fortress
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| n.堡垒，防御工事 | |
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strictly
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| adv.严厉地，严格地；严密地 | |
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indifference
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| n.不感兴趣，不关心，冷淡，不在乎 | |
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lurch
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| n.突然向前或旁边倒；v.蹒跚而行 | |
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inexplicable
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| adj.无法解释的，难理解的 | |
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58
smuggler
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| n.走私者 | |
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amazement
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| n.惊奇，惊讶 | |
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60
killing
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| n.巨额利润；突然赚大钱，发大财 | |
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shrugged
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| vt.耸肩（shrug的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
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condescend
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| v.俯就，屈尊；堕落，丢丑 | |
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superfluous
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| adj.过多的，过剩的，多余的 | |
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vindictive
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| adj.有报仇心的，怀恨的，惩罚的 | |
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brute
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| n.野兽，兽性 | |
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pretext
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| n.借口，托词 | |
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justify
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| vt.证明…正当(或有理)，为…辩护 | |
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jurisdiction
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| n.司法权，审判权，管辖权，控制权 | |
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cartridges
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| 子弹( cartridge的名词复数 )； （打印机的）墨盒； 录音带盒； （唱机的）唱头 | |
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