the arm, and the blade quivered on the mark. The innkeeper fell back in
admiring horror. 'Now fetch it to me,' said Angelo, putting both hands
carelessly under his head. The innkeeper tugged at the blade.
'Illustrious signore, I am afraid of breaking it,' he almost whimpered;
'it seems alive, does it not?'

'Like a hawk on a small bird,' said Angelo; 'that's the beauty of those
blades. They kill, and put you to as little pain as a shot; and it 's
better than a shot in your breast--there's something to show for it.
Send up your wife or your daughter to take orders about my breakfast.
It 's the breakfast of five mountaineers; and don't "Illustrious signore"
me, sir, either in my hearing or out of it. Leave the knife sticking.'

The innkeeper sidled out with a dumb salute. 'I can count on his
discretion for a couple of hours,' Angelo said to himself. He knew the
effect of an exhibition of physical dexterity and strength upon a coward.
The landlord's daughter came and received his orders for breakfast.
Angelo inquired whether they had been visited by Germans of late. The
girl told him that a German chasseur with a couple of soldiers had called
them up last night.

'Wouldn't it have been a pity if they had dragged me out and shot me?'
said Angelo.

'But they were after a lady,' she explained; 'they have gone on to
Bormio, and expect to catch her there or in the mountains.'

'Better there than in the mountains, my dear; don't you think so?'

The girl said that she would not like to meet those fellows among the