you"--and she pressed my hands to her lips--"though I shall no longer
have the picture of the donkey to remember you by."

"See, here's my photograph; that will be better," said I, feeling a
little annoyed--foolishly, I admit. Then we strained each other to our
respective hearts, and parted. Now it so happened that my room in the
_locanda_ in which I was lodging overlooked the market-place. Here at
ten o'clock in the morning I posted myself--for that was the hour, as I
had been careful to ascertain, when the prisoners were to start for
Foggia. I opened the window about three inches, and fixed it there: I
took out my gun, put eight balls in it, and looked down upon the square.
It was crowded with the country people in their bright-coloured costumes,
chaffering over their produce. I looked above them to the tall campanile
of the church which filled one side of the square. I receded a step and
adjusted my gun on the ledge of the window to my entire satisfaction. I
then looked down the street in which the prison was situated, and which
debouched on the square, and awaited events. At ten minutes past ten I
saw the soldiers at the door of the prison form up, and then I knew that
the twenty prisoners of whom they formed the escort were starting; but
the moment they began to move, I fired at the big bell in the campanile,
which responded with a loud clang. All the people in the square looked
up. As the prisoners entered the square, which they had to cross in its
whole breadth, I fired again and again. The bell banged twice, and the
people began to buzz about. Now, I thought, I must let the old bell have
it. By the time five more balls had struck the bell with a resounding
din, the whole square was in commotion. A miracle was evidently in
progress, or the campanile was bewitched. People began to run hither and
thither; all the soldiers forming the escort gaped open-mouthed at the
steeple as the clangour continued. As soon as the last shot had been
fired, I looked down into the square and saw all this, and I saw that the