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Algarita on my head by concealing the fact of my ransom having been paid―which I found afterwards was true―his revenge should never wring one request for mercy or respite from me.

"The sunlight streaked the east with golden splinters of light; up rose the sun, and reddened sky and hill-top in glory. Suddenly I felt a hand on my shoulder. Looking round, I saw a carbineer, who addressed me by saying, 'The hour has come; has the stranger any last request?'

"Could I trust this man with a message to Algarita? I wondered. Taking a leaf from my pocket-book, I scrawled upon it: 'Goodbye, with my dying breath I bless you.―F.' and gave it to the carbineer. 'Deliver this,' I responded, 'and grant me to die with my eyes unbandaged.'

"'A brave request; it is granted, and Algarita shall have this scrap of paper,' said the carbineer; 'and now follow me.'

"There was an open space outside the cave, between it and the sea, and to this spot my guide conducted me. Here I found several carbineers drawn up in line, Cospi, with a look of exultation, among them.

"I knelt down, then waved my right hand in token of readiness for death.

"I was shot!"

"'Ready! Present! Fire!' rang out on the still morning air, and the words were drowned in a volley from the guns. A dull thud, a sensation of pain, a blank nothingness: I was shot!

"Out on the blue waters of the Mediterranean sailed a little craft. Propped up with pillows I lay, my head supported by Algarita. When consciousness had returned to me, I begged to hear the sequel of my fate. It was told in a few words. Cospi's gun alone was loaded with a bullet, the rest had been tampered with, and a harmless cartridge substituted. Although not ordered to take part in my death, Cospi had asked to join the carbineers at the last moment, and the chief had granted him permission. The others, on his subsequent departure, had carried me into the boat. Algarita would not leave me to the care of the two carbineers who had volunteered to try to land me at the nearest European seaport. My wounded shoulder soon was restored. We reached England after a journey first to Lyons, thence to Dieppe, and London, where we were married."

"And what shall you call the portrait when you exhibit it?" asked Henry Aubert.

"'A Brigand's Daughter in Belgravia,'"" he responded.