"Get out of my way, thou puppet!" he roared in angry tones, as he
recovered his sang-froid, "or thou wilt get thy accursed head smashed."
But Chiquita paid no attention to him--she did not care whether she was
killed too, or not. Bending over Agostino, she passionately kissed his
forehead, whispered "I love thee!"--and then, with a blow as swift
as lightning, plunged into his heart the knife she had reclaimed from
Isabelle. It was dealt with so firm a hand, and unerring an aim, that
death was almost instantaneous--scarcely had Agostino time to murmur
"Thanks."
With a wild burst of hysterical laughter the child sprang down from the
scaffold, while the executioner, stupefied at her bold deed, lowered his
now useless club; uncertain whether or not he should proceed to break
the bones of the man already dead, and beyond his power to torture.
"Well done, Chiquita, well done, and bravely!" cried Malartic--who had
recognised her in spite of her boy's clothes--losing his self-restraint
in his admiration. The other ruffians, who had seen Chiquita at the
Crowned Radish, and wondered at and admired her courage when she stood
against the door and let Agostino fling his terrible navaja at her
without moving a muscle, now grouped themselves closely together so as
to effectually prevent the soldiers from pursuing her.
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