But still, wealth was mine--the hidden stores of the brigands were sufficient to make any man more than rich for the term of his natural life.

As I considered this, a sort of dull pleasure throbbed in my veins.

Money! Anything could be done for money--gold would purchase even vengeance.
But what sort of vengeance?
Such a one as I sought must be unique--refined, relentless, and complete.

I pondered deeply.

The evening wind blew freshly up from the sea; the leaves of the swaying trees whispered mysteriously together; the nightingales warbled on with untired sweetness; and the moon, like the round shield of an angel warrior, shone brightly against the dense blue background of the sky.
Heedless of the passing of hours, I sat still, lost in a bewildered reverie.