The guard who brought in his food was a Sicilian, and was evidently of a talkative disposition, for he had several times entered into conversation with the captives.

In addition to a long knife, he carried a small stiletto in his girdle, and Francis thought that, if he could obtain this, he might possibly free himself.
Accordingly, at the hour when he expected his guard to enter, Francis placed himself at his window, with his face against the bars.

When he heard the guard come in, and, as usual, close the door behind him, he turned round and said: "Who is that damsel there?
She is very beautiful, and she passes here frequently.

There she is, just going among those trees." The guard moved to the window and looked out.
"Do you see her just going round that corner there?
Ah! She is gone." The guard was pressing his face against the bars, to look in the direction indicated, and Francis, who was already standing on his left leg, with the right raised so as to give freedom to the hand next to the man, had no difficulty in drawing the stiletto from its sheath, and slipping it into his trousers.
"You were just too late," he said, "but no doubt you often see her." "I don't see any beautiful damsels about in this wretched place," the man replied.

"I suppose she is the daughter of the head man in the village.