carbines, while from their throats issued a deep cry of revenge.

Dead! The word thrilled them one and all with horror.

The bold Mathias dead!

Prepared as they had been by her manner for some dire Calamity, it came
upon them like a thunderclap. The awful calm manner of the chieftain's
widow impressed them more than if she had thrown up her hands in wild
despair and given way to the noisiest demonstrations of woe.

After some few minutes, one ventured to break the awesome silence.

"How did he die?"

The brigand's wife turned from her questioner with a shudder.

"Ask me nothing yet. I am not able to speak of that at present; give me
time to conquer this weakness."

"If I ask, it is that I may seek vengeance upon his destroyer," said
Tomaso, the speaker.

Her eyes sparkled, and the colour rushed into her pale cheek at the
word. "Vengeance--aye, vengeance. Well spoken, my bold Tomaso;
vengeance is something to live for, after all; vengeance we'll have
too. We'll glut ourselves with it; a feast of vengeance we'll have."
"We will, we will!" shouted the brigands, as though with one single
voice.