After the meal he drew Johann aside. They returned to Angelo, and Johann
beckoned him to leave the house by a back way, leading up a slope of
garden into high vine-poles. He said that he had seen a party pass out
of Cles from the inn early, in a light car, on for Meran. The
gendarmerie were busy on the road: a mounted officer had dashed up to the
inn an hour later, and had followed them: it was the talk of the village.

'Padrone, you dismiss me now,' said Jacopo.

'I pay you, but don't dismiss you,' said Angelo, and handed him a bank-
note.

'I stick to you, padrone, till you do dismiss me,' Jacopo sighed.

Johann offered to conduct them as far as the Monte Pallade pass, and they
started, avoiding the high road, which was enviably broad and solid.
Within view of a village under climbing woods, they discerned an open
car, flanked by bayonets, returning to Cles. Angelo rushed ahead of them
down the declivity, and stood full in the road to meet the procession.
A girl sat in the car, who hung her head, weeping; Lorenzo was beside
her; an Englishman on foot gave employment to a pair of soldiers to get
him along. As they came near at marching pace, Lorenzo yawned and raised
his hand to his cheek, keeping the thumb pointed behind him. Including
the girl, there were four prisoners: Vittoria was absent. The
Englishman, as he was being propelled forward, addressed Angelo in
French, asking him whether he could bear to see an unoffending foreigner
treated with wanton violation of law. The soldiers bellowed at their
captive, and Angelo sent a stupid shrug after him. They rounded a bend
of the road. Angelo tightened the buckle at his waist.