Chapter 33. Roman Bandits
The next morning Franz woke first, and instantly rang the bell. Thesound had not yet died away when Signor Pastrini himself entered.
“Well, excellency,” said the landlord triumphantly, and without waitingfor Franz to question him, “I feared yesterday, when I would not promiseyou anything, that you were too late—there is not a single carriage tobe had—that is, for the three last days”
“Yes,” returned Franz, “for the very three days it is most needed.”
“What is the matter?” said Albert, entering; “no carriage to be had?”
“Just so,” returned Franz, “you have guessed it.”
“Well, your Eternal City is a nice sort of place.”
“That is to say, excellency,” replied Pastrini, who was desirous ofkeeping up the dignity of the capital of the Christian world in the eyesof his guest, “that there are no carriages to be had from Sunday toTuesday evening, but from now till Sunday you can have fifty if youplease.”
“Ah, that is something,” said Albert; “today is Thursday, and who knowswhat may arrive between this and Sunday?”
“Ten or twelve thousand travellers will arrive,” replied Franz, “whichwill make it still more difficult.”
“My friend,” said Morcerf, “let us enjoy the present without gloomyforebodings for the future.”
“At least we can have a window?”
“Where?”
“In the Corso.”
“Ah, a window!” exclaimed Signor Pastrini,—“utterly impossible; therewas only one left on the fifth floor of the Doria Palace, and that hasbeen let to a Russian prince for twenty sequins a day.”
The two young men looked at each other with an air of stupefaction.
“Well,” said Franz to Albert, “do you know what is the best thing we cando? It is to pass the Carnival at Venice; there we are sure of obtaininggondolas if we cannot have carriages.”
“Ah, the devil, no,” cried Albert; “I came to Rome to see the Carnival,and I will, though I see it on stilts.”
“Bravo! an excellent idea. We will disguise ourselves as monsterpulchinellos or shepherds of the Landes, and we shall have completesuccess.”
“Do your excellencies still wish for a carriage from now to Sundaymorning?”
“Parbleu!” said Albert, “do you think we are going to run about on footin the streets of Rome, like lawyers’ clerks?”
“I hasten to comply with your excellencies’ wishes; only, I tell youbeforehand, the carriage will cost you six piastres a day.”
“And, as I am not a millionaire, like the gentleman in the nextapartments,” said Franz, “I warn you, that as I have been four timesbefore at Rome, I know the prices of all the carriages; we will give youtwelve piastres for today, tomorrow, and the day after, and then youwill make a good profit.”
“But, excellency”—said Pastrini, still striving to gain his point.
“Now go,” returned Franz, “or I shall go myself and bargain with youraffettatore, who is mine also; he is an old friend of mine, who hasplundered me pretty well already, and, in the hope of making more out ofme, he will take a less price than the one I offer you; you will losethe preference, and that will be your fault.”
“Do not give yourselves the trouble, excellency,” returned SignorPastrini, with the smile peculiar to the Italian speculator when heconfesses defeat; “I will do all I can, and I hope you will besatisfied.”
“And now we understand each other.”
“When do you wish the carriage to be here?”
“In an hour.”
“In an hour it will be at the door.”
An hour after the vehicle was at the door; it was a hack conveyancewhich was elevated to the rank of a private carriage in honor of theoccasion, but, in spite of its humble exterior, the young men would havethought themselves happy to have secured it for the last three days ofthe Carnival.
“Excellency,” cried the cicerone, seeing Franz approach the window,“shall I bring the carriage nearer to the palace?”
Accustomed as Franz was to the Italian phraseology, his first impulsewas to look round him, but these words were addressed to him. Franz wasthe “excellency,” the vehicle was the “carriage,” and the Hôtel deLondres was the “palace.” The genius for laudation characteristic of therace was in that phrase.
Franz and Albert descended, the carriage approached the palace; theirexcellencies stretched their legs along the seats; the cicerone spranginto the seat behind.
“Where do your excellencies wish to go?” asked he.
“To Saint Peter’s first, and then to the Colosseum,” returned Albert.But Albert did not know that it takes a day to see Saint Peter’s, and amonth to study it. The day was passed at Saint Peter’s alone.
Suddenly the daylight began to fade away; Franz took out his watch—itwas half-past four. They returned to the hotel; at the door Franzordered the coachman to be ready at eight. He wished to show Albert theColosseum by moonlight, as he had shown him Saint Peter’s by daylight.When we show a friend a city one has already visited, we feel the samepride as when we point out a woman whose lover we have been.
He was to leave the city by the Porta del Popolo, skirt the outer wall,and re-enter by the Porta San Giovanni; thus they would behold theColosseum without finding their impressions dulled by first looking onthe Capitol, the Forum, the Arch of Septimus Severus, the Temple ofAntoninus and Faustina, and the Via Sacra.
They sat down to dinner. Signor Pastrini had promised them a banquet; hegave them a tolerable repast. At the end of the dinner he entered inperson. Franz thought that he came to hear his dinner praised, and beganaccordingly, but at the first words he was interrupted.
“Excellency,” said Pastrini, “I am delighted to have your approbation,but it was not for that I came.”
“Did you come to tell us you have procured a carriage?” asked Albert,lighting his cigar.
“No; and your excellencies will do well not to think of that any longer;at Rome things can or cannot be done; when you are told anything cannotbe done, there is an end of it.”
“It is much more convenient at Paris,—when anything cannot be done, youpay double, and it is done directly.”
“That is what all the French say,” returned Signor Pastrini, somewhatpiqued; “for that reason, I do not understand why they travel.”
“But,” said Albert, emitting a volume of smoke and balancing his chairon its hind legs, “only madmen, or blockheads like us, ever do travel.Men in their senses do not quit their hotel in the Rue du Helder, theirwalk on the Boulevard de Gand, and the Café de Paris.”
It is of course understood that Albert resided in the aforesaid street,appeared every day on the fashionable walk, and dined frequently at theonly restaurant where you can really dine, that is, if you are on goodterms with its waiters.
Signor Pastrini remained silent a short time; it was evident that he wasmusing over this answer, which did not seem very clear.
“But,” said Franz, in his turn interrupting his host’s meditations, “youhad some motive for coming here, may I beg to know what it was?”
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“Ah, yes; you have ordered your carriage at eight o’clock precisely?”
“I have.”
“You intend visiting Il Colosseo.”
“You mean the Colosseum?”
“It is the same thing. You have told your coachman to leave the city bythe Porta del Popolo, to drive round the walls, and re-enter by thePorta San Giovanni?”
“These are my words exactly.”
“Well, this route is impossible.”
“Impossible!”
“Very dangerous, to say the least.”
“Dangerous!—and why?”
“On account of the famous Luigi Vampa.”
“Pray, who may this famous Luigi Vampa be?” inquired Albert; “he may bevery famous at Rome, but I can assure you he is quite unknown at Paris.”
“What! do you not know
him?”
“I have not that honor.”
“You have never heard his name?”
“Never.”
“Well, then, he is a bandit, compared to whom the Decesaris and theGasparones were mere children.”
“Now then, Albert,” cried Franz, “here is a bandit for you at last.”
“I forewarn you, Signor Pastrini, that I shall not believe one word ofwhat you are going to tell us; having told you this, begin. ‘Once upon atime——’ Well, go on.”
Signor Pastrini turned toward Franz, who seemed to him the morereasonable of the two; we must do him justice,—he had had a great manyFrenchmen in his house, but had never been able to comprehend them.
“Excellency,” said he gravely, addressing Franz, “if you look upon me asa liar, it is useless for me to say anything; it was for your interestI——”
“Albert does not say you are a liar, Signor Pastrini,” said Franz, “butthat he will not believe what you are going to tell us,—but I willbelieve all you say; so proceed.”
“But if your excellency doubt my veracity——”
“Signor Pastrini,” returned Franz, “you are more susceptible thanCassandra, who was a prophetess, and yet no one believed her; while you,at least, are sure of the credence of half your audience. Come, sitdown, and tell us all about this Signor Vampa.”
“I had told your excellency he is the most famous bandit we have hadsince the days of Mastrilla.”
“Well, what has this bandit to do with the order I have given thecoachman to leave the city by the Porta del Popolo, and to re-enter bythe Porta San Giovanni?”
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“This,” replied Signor Pastrini, “that you will go out by one, but Ivery much doubt your returning by the other.”
“Why?” asked Franz.
“Because, after nightfall, you are not safe fifty yards from the gates.”
“On your honor, is that true?” cried Albert.
“Count,” returned Signor Pastrini, hurt at Albert’s repeated doubts ofthe truth of his assertions, “I do not say this to you, but to yourcompanion, who knows Rome, and knows, too, that these things are not tobe laughed at.”
“My dear fellow,” said Albert, turning to Franz, “here is an admirableadventure; we will fill our carriage with pistols, blunderbusses, anddouble-barrelled guns. Luigi Vampa comes to take us, and we take him—webring him back to Rome, and present him to his holiness the Pope, whoasks how he can repay so great a service; then we merely ask for acarriage and a pair of horses, and we see the Carnival in the carriage,and doubtless the Roman people will crown us at the Capitol, andproclaim us, like Curtius and Horatius Cocles, the preservers of theircountry.”
Whilst Albert proposed this scheme, Signor Pastrini’s face assumed anexpression impossible to describe.
“And pray,” asked Franz, “where are these pistols, blunderbusses, andother deadly weapons with which you intend filling the carriage?”
“Not out of my armory, for at Terracina I was plundered even of myhunting-knife. And you?”
“I shared the same fate at Aquapendente.”
“Do you know, Signor Pastrini,” said Albert, lighting a second cigar atthe first, “that this practice is very convenient for bandits, and thatit seems to be due to an arrangement of their own.”
Doubtless Signor Pastrini found this pleasantry compromising, for heonly answered half the question, and then he spoke to Franz, as the onlyone likely to listen with attention. “Your excellency knows that it isnot customary to defend yourself when attacked by bandits.”
“What!” cried Albert, whose courage revolted at the idea of beingplundered tamely, “not make any resistance!”
“No, for it would be useless. What could you do against a dozen banditswho spring out of some pit, ruin, or aqueduct, and level their pieces atyou?”
“Eh, parbleu!—they should kill me.”
The innkeeper turned to Franz with an air that seemed to say, “Yourfriend is decidedly mad.”
“My dear Albert,” returned Franz, “your answer is sublime, and worthythe ‘Let him die,’ of Corneille, only, when Horace made that answer, thesafety of Rome was concerned; but, as for us, it is only to gratify awhim, and it would be ridiculous to risk our lives for so foolish amotive.”
Albert poured himself out a glass of lacryma Christi, which he sipped atintervals, muttering some unintelligible words.
“Well, Signor Pastrini,” said Franz, “now that my companion is quieted,and you have seen how peaceful my intentions are, tell me who is thisLuigi Vampa. Is he a shepherd or a nobleman?—young or old?—tall orshort? Describe him, in order that, if we meet him by chance, like JeanSbogar or Lara, we may recognize him.”
“You could not apply to anyone better able to inform you on all thesepoints, for I knew him when he was a child, and one day that I fell intohis hands, going from Ferentino to Alatri, he, fortunately for me,recollected me, and set me free, not only without ransom, but made me apresent of a very splendid watch, and related his history to me.”
“Let us see the watch,” said Albert.
Signor Pastrini drew from his fob a magnificent Bréguet, bearing thename of its maker, of Parisian manufacture, and a count’s coronet.
“Here it is,” said he.
“Peste!” returned Albert, “I compliment you on it; I have its fellow”—hetook his watch from his waistcoat pocket—“and it cost me 3,000 francs.”
“Let us hear the history,” said Franz, motioning Signor Pastrini to seathimself.
“Your excellencies permit it?” asked the host.
“Pardieu!” cried Albert, “you are not a preacher, to remain standing!”
The host sat down, after having made each of them a respectful bow,which meant that he was ready to tell them all they wished to knowconcerning Luigi Vampa.
“You tell me,” said Franz, at the moment Signor Pastrini was about toopen his mouth, “that you knew Luigi Vampa when he was a child—he isstill a young man, then?”
“A young man? he is only two-and-twenty;—he will gain himself areputation.”
“What do you think of that, Albert?—at two-and-twenty to be thusfamous?”
“Yes, and at his age, Alexander, Cæsar, and Napoleon, who have all madesome noise in the world, were quite behind him.”
“So,” continued Franz, “the hero of this history is only two-and-twenty?”
“Scarcely so much.”
“Is he tall or short?”
“Of the middle height—about the same stature as his excellency,”returned the host, pointing to Albert.
“Thanks for the comparison,” said Albert, with a bow.
“Go on, Signor Pastrini,” continued Franz, smiling at his friend’ssusceptibility. “To what class of society does he belong?”
“He was a shepherd-boy attached to the farm of the Count of San-Felice,situated between Palestrina and the Lake of Gabri; he was born atPampinara, and entered the count’s service when he was five years old;his father was also a shepherd, who owned a small flock, and lived bythe wool and the milk, which he sold at Rome. When quite a child, thelittle Vampa displayed a most extraordinary precocity. One day, when hewas seven years old, he came to the curate of Palestrina, and asked tobe taught to read; it was somewhat difficult, for he could not quit hisflock; but the good curate went every day to say mass at a little hamlettoo poor to pay a priest and which, having no other name, was calledBorgo; he told Luigi that he might meet him on his return, and that thenhe would give him a lesson, warning him that it would be short, and thathe must profit as much as possible by it. The child accepted joyfully.Every day Luigi led his flock to graze on the road that leads fromPalestrina to Borgo; every day, at nine o’clock in the morning, thepriest and the boy sat down on a bank by the wayside, and the littleshepherd took his lesson out of the priest’s breviary. At the end ofthree months he had learned to read. This was not enough—he must nowlearn to write. The priest had a writing teacher at Rome make threealphabets—one lar
ge, one middling, and one small; and pointed out to himthat by the help of a sharp instrument he could trace the letters on aslate, and thus learn to write. The same evening, when the flock wassafe at the farm, the little Luigi hastened to the smith at Palestrina,took a large nail, heated and sharpened it, and formed a sort of stylus.The next morning he gathered an armful of pieces of slate and began. Atthe end of three months he had learned to write. The curate, astonishedat his quickness and intelligence, made him a present of pens, paper,and a penknife. This demanded new effort, but nothing compared to thefirst; at the end of a week he wrote as well with this pen as with thestylus. The curate related the incident to the Count of San-Felice, whosent for the little shepherd, made him read and write before him,ordered his attendant to let him eat with the domestics, and to give himtwo piastres a month. With this, Luigi purchased books and pencils. Heapplied his imitative powers to everything, and, like Giotto, whenyoung, he drew on his slate sheep, houses, and trees. Then, with hisknife, he began to carve all sorts of objects in wood; it was thus thatPinelli, the famous sculptor, had commenced.
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“A girl of six or seven—that is, a little younger than Vampa—tendedsheep on a farm near Palestrina; she was an orphan, born at Valmontoneand was named Teresa. The two children met, sat down near each other,let their flocks mingle together, played, laughed, and conversedtogether; in the evening they separated the Count of San-Felice’s flockfrom those of Baron Cervetri, and the children returned to theirrespective farms, promising to meet the next morning. The next day theykept their word, and thus they grew up together. Vampa was twelve, andTeresa eleven. And yet their natural disposition revealed itself. Besidehis taste for the fine arts, which Luigi had carried as far as he couldin his solitude, he was given to alternating fits of sadness andenthusiasm, was often angry and capricious, and always sarcastic. Noneof the lads of Pampinara, Palestrina, or Valmontone had been able togain any influence over him or even to become his companion. Hisdisposition (always inclined to exact concessions rather than to makethem) kept him aloof from all friendships. Teresa alone ruled by a look,a word, a gesture, this impetuous character, which yielded beneath thehand of a woman, and which beneath the hand of a man might have broken,but could never have been bended. Teresa was lively and gay, butcoquettish to excess. The two piastres that Luigi received every monthfrom the Count of San-Felice’s steward, and the price of all the littlecarvings in wood he sold at Rome, were expended in ear-rings, necklaces,and gold hairpins. So that, thanks to her friend’s generosity, Teresawas the most beautiful and the best-attired peasant near Rome.
“The two children grew up together, passing all their time with eachother, and giving themselves up to the wild ideas of their differentcharacters. Thus, in all their dreams, their wishes, and theirconversations, Vampa saw himself the captain of a vessel, general of anarmy, or governor of a province. Teresa saw herself rich, superblyattired, and attended by a train of liveried domestics. Then, when theyhad thus passed the day in building castles in the air, they separatedtheir flocks, and descended from the elevation of their dreams to thereality of their humble position.
“One day the young shepherd told the count’s steward that he had seen awolf come out of the Sabine mountains, and prowl around his flock. Thesteward gave him a gun; this was what Vampa longed for. This gun had anexcellent barrel, made at Brescia, and carrying a ball with theprecision of an English rifle; but one day the count broke the stock,and had then cast the gun aside. This, however, was nothing to asculptor like Vampa; he examined the broken stock, calculated whatchange it would require to adapt the gun to his shoulder, and made afresh stock, so beautifully carved that it would have fetched fifteen ortwenty piastres, had he chosen to sell it. But nothing could be fartherfrom his thoughts.
“For a long time a gun had been the young man’s greatest ambition. Inevery country where independence has taken the place of liberty, thefirst desire of a manly heart is to possess a weapon, which at oncerenders him capable of defence or attack, and, by rendering its ownerterrible, often makes him feared. From this moment Vampa devoted all hisleisure time to perfecting himself in the use of his precious weapon; hepurchased powder and ball, and everything served him for a mark—thetrunk of some old and moss-grown olive-tree, that grew on the Sabinemountains; the fox, as he quitted his earth on some marauding excursion;the eagle that soared above their heads: and thus he soon became soexpert, that Teresa overcame the terror she at first felt at the report,and amused herself by watching him direct the ball wherever he pleased,with as much accuracy as if he placed it by hand.
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“One evening a wolf emerged from a pine-wood near which they wereusually stationed, but the wolf had scarcely advanced ten yards ere hewas dead. Proud of this exploit, Vampa took the dead animal on hisshoulders, and carried him to the farm. These exploits had gained Luigiconsiderable reputation. The man of superior abilities always findsadmirers, go where he will. He was spoken of as the most adroit, thestrongest, and the most courageous contadino for ten leagues around; andalthough Teresa was universally allowed to be the most beautiful girl ofthe Sabines, no one had ever spoken to her of love, because it was knownthat she was beloved by Vampa. And yet the two young people had neverdeclared their affection; they had grown together like two trees whoseroots are mingled, whose branches intertwined, and whose intermingledperfume rises to the heavens. Only their wish to see each other hadbecome a necessity, and they would have preferred death to a day’sseparation.
“Teresa was sixteen, and Vampa seventeen. About this time, a band ofbrigands that had established itself in the Lepini mountains began to bemuch spoken of. The brigands have never been really extirpated from theneighborhood of Rome. Sometimes a chief is wanted, but when a chiefpresents himself he rarely has to wait long for a band of followers.
“The celebrated Cucumetto, pursued in the Abruzzo, driven out of thekingdom of Naples, where he had carried on a regular war, had crossedthe Garigliano, like Manfred, and had taken refuge on the banks of theAmasine between Sonnino and Juperno. He strove to collect a band offollowers, and followed the footsteps of Decesaris and Gasparone, whomhe hoped to surpass. Many young men of Palestrina, Frascati, andPampinara had disappeared. Their disappearance at first caused muchdisquietude; but it was soon known that they had joined Cucumetto. Aftersome time Cucumetto became the object of universal attention; the mostextraordinary traits of ferocious daring and brutality were related ofhim.
“One day he carried off a young girl, the daughter of a surveyor ofFrosinone. The bandit’s laws are positive; a young girl belongs first tohim who carries her off, then the rest draw lots for her, and she isabandoned to their brutality until death relieves her sufferings. Whentheir parents are sufficiently rich to pay a ransom, a messenger is sentto negotiate; the prisoner is hostage for the security of the messenger;should the ransom be refused, the prisoner is irrevocably lost. Theyoung girl’s lover was in Cucumetto’s troop; his name was Carlini. Whenshe recognized her lover, the poor girl extended her arms to him, andbelieved herself safe; but Carlini felt his heart sink, for he but toowell knew the fate that awaited her. However, as he was a favorite withCucumetto, as he had for three years faithfully served him, and as hehad saved his life by shooting a dragoon who was about to cut him down,he hoped the chief would have pity on him. He took Cucumetto one side,while the young girl, seated at the foot of a huge pine that stood inthe centre of the forest, made a veil of her picturesque head-dress tohide her face from the lascivious gaze of the bandits. There he told thechief all—his affection for the prisoner, their promises of mutualfidelity, and how every night, since he had been near, they had met insome neighboring ruins.
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“It so happened that night that Cucumetto had sent Carlini to a village,so that he had been unable to go to the place of meeting. Cucumetto hadbeen there, however, by accident, as he said, and had carried the maidenoff. Carlini besought his chief to make an exception in Rita’s favor, asher father was rich, and c
ould pay a large ransom. Cucumetto seemed toyield to his friend’s entreaties, and bade him find a shepherd to sendto Rita’s father at Frosinone.
“Carlini flew joyfully to Rita, telling her she was saved, and biddingher write to her father, to inform him what had occurred, and that herransom was fixed at three hundred piastres. Twelve hours’ delay was allthat was granted—that is, until nine the next morning. The instant theletter was written, Carlini seized it, and hastened to the plain to finda messenger. He found a young shepherd watching his flock. The naturalmessengers of the bandits are the shepherds who live between the cityand the mountains, between civilized and savage life. The boy undertookthe commission, promising to be in Frosinone in less than an hour.Carlini returned, anxious to see his mistress, and announce the joyfulintelligence. He found the troop in the glade, supping off theprovisions exacted as contributions from the peasants; but his eyevainly sought Rita and Cucumetto among them.
“He inquired where they were, and was answered by a burst of laughter. Acold perspiration burst from every pore, and his hair stood on end. Herepeated his question. One of the bandits rose, and offered him a glassfilled with Orvietto, saying, ‘To the health of the brave Cucumetto andthe fair Rita.’ At this moment Carlini heard a woman’s cry; he divinedthe truth, seized the glass, broke it across the face of him whopresented it, and rushed towards the spot whence the cry came. After ahundred yards he turned the corner of the thicket; he found Ritasenseless in the arms of Cucumetto. At the sight of Carlini, Cucumettorose, a pistol in each hand. The two brigands looked at each other for amoment—the one with a smile of lasciviousness on his lips, the otherwith the pallor of death on his brow. A terrible battle between the twomen seemed imminent; but by degrees Carlini’s features relaxed, hishand, which had grasped one of the pistols in his belt, fell to hisside. Rita lay between them. The moon lighted the group.
“‘Well,’ said Cucumetto, ‘have you executed your commission?’
“‘Yes, captain,’ returned Carlini. ‘At nine o’clock tomorrow Rita’sfather will be here with the money.’
“‘It is well; in the meantime, we will have a merry night; this younggirl is charming, and does credit to your taste. Now, as I am notegotistical, we will return to our comrades and draw lots for her.’
“‘You have determined, then, to abandon her to the common law?’ saidCarlini.
“‘Why should an exception be made in her favor?’
“‘I thought that my entreaties——’
“‘What right have you, any more than the rest, to ask for an exception?’
“‘It is true.’
“‘But never mind,’ continued Cucumetto, laughing, ‘sooner or later yourturn will come.’ Carlini’s teeth clenched convulsively.
“‘Now, then,’ said Cucumetto, advancing towards the other bandits, ‘areyou coming?’
“‘I follow you.’
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“Cucumetto departed, without losing sight of Carlini, for, doubtless, hefeared lest he should strike him unawares; but nothing betrayed ahostile design on Carlini’s part. He was standing, his arms folded, nearRita, who was still insensible. Cucumetto fancied for a moment the youngman was about to take her in his arms and fly; but this mattered littleto him now Rita had been his; and as for the money, three hundredpiastres distributed among the band was so small a sum that he caredlittle about it. He continued to follow the path to the glade; but, tohis great surprise, Carlini arrived almost as soon as himself.
“‘Let us draw lots! let us draw lots!’ cried all the brigands, when theysaw the chief.
“Their demand was fair, and the chief inclined his head in sign ofacquiescence. The eyes of all shone fiercely as they made their demand,and the red light of the fire made them look like demons. The names ofall, including Carlini, were placed in a hat, and the youngest of theband drew forth a ticket; the ticket bore the name of Diavolaccio. Hewas the man who had proposed to Carlini the health of their chief, andto whom Carlini replied by breaking the glass across his face. A largewound, extending from the temple to the mouth, was bleeding profusely.Diavolaccio, seeing himself thus favored by fortune, burst into a loudlaugh.
“‘Captain,’ said he, ‘just now Carlini would not drink your health whenI proposed it to him; propose mine to him, and let us see if he will bemore condescending to you than to me.’
“Everyone expected an explosion on Carlini’s part; but to their greatsurprise, he took a glass in one hand and a flask in the other, andfilling it,—
“‘Your health, Diavolaccio,’ said he calmly, and he drank it off,without his hand trembling in the least. Then sitting down by the fire,‘My supper,’ said he; ‘my expedition has given me an appetite.’
“‘Well done, Carlini!’ cried the brigands; ‘that is acting like a goodfellow;’ and they all formed a circle round the fire, while Diavolacciodisappeared.
“Carlini ate and drank as if nothing had happened. The bandits looked onwith astonishment at this singular conduct until they heard footsteps.They turned round, and saw Diavolaccio bearing the young girl in hisarms. Her head hung back, and her long hair swept the ground. As theyentered the circle, the bandits could perceive, by the firelight, theunearthly pallor of the young girl and of Diavolaccio. This apparitionwas so strange and so solemn, that everyone rose, with the exception ofCarlini, who remained seated, and ate and drank calmly. Diavolaccioadvanced amidst the most profound silence, and laid Rita at thecaptain’s feet. Then everyone could understand the cause of theunearthly pallor in the young girl and the bandit. A knife was plungedup to the hilt in Rita’s left breast. Everyone looked at Carlini; thesheath at his belt was empty.
“‘Ah, ah,’ said the chief, ‘I now understand why Carlini stayed behind.’
“All savage natures appreciate a desperate deed. No other of the banditswould, perhaps, have done the same; but they all understood what Carlinihad done.
“‘Now, then,’ cried Carlini, rising in his turn, and approaching thecorpse, his hand on the butt of one of his pistols, ‘does anyone disputethe possession of this woman with me?’
“‘No,’ returned the chief, ‘she is thine.’
“Carlini raised her in his arms, and carried her out of the circle offirelight. Cucumetto placed his sentinels for the night, and the banditswrapped themselves in their cloaks, and lay down before the fire. Atmidnight the sentinel gave the alarm, and in an instant all were on thealert. It was Rita’s father, who brought his daughter’s ransom inperson.
“‘Here,’ said he, to Cucumetto, ‘here are three hundred piastres; giveme back my child.
“But the chief, without taking the money, made a sign to him to follow.The old man obeyed. They both advanced beneath the trees, through whosebranches streamed the moonlight. Cucumetto stopped at last, and pointedto two persons grouped at the foot of a tree.
“‘There,’ said he, ‘demand thy child of Carlini; he will tell thee whathas become of her;’ and he returned to his companions.
“The old man remained motionless; he felt that some great and unforeseenmisfortune hung over his head. At length he advanced toward the group,the meaning of which he could not comprehend. As he approached, Carliniraised his head, and the forms of two persons became visible to the oldman’s eyes. A woman lay on the ground, her head resting on the knees ofa man, who was seated by her; as he raised his head, the woman’s facebecame visible. The old man recognized his child, and Carlini recognizedthe old man.
“‘I expected thee,’ said the bandit to Rita’s father.
“‘Wretch!’ returned the old man, ‘what hast thou done?’ and he gazedwith terror on Rita, pale and bloody, a knife buried in her bosom. A rayof moonlight poured through the trees, and lighted up the face of thedead.
“‘Cucumetto had violated thy daughter,’ said the bandit; ‘I loved her,therefore I slew her; for she would have served as the sport of thewhole band.’ The old man spoke not, and grew pale as death. ‘Now,’continued Carlini, ‘if I have done wrongly, avenge her;’ and w
ithdrawingthe knife from the wound in Rita’s bosom, he held it out to the old manwith one hand, while with the other he tore open his vest.
“‘Thou hast done well!’ returned the old man in a hoarse voice; ‘embraceme, my son.’
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Carlini threw himself, sobbing like a child, into the arms of hismistress’s father. These were the first tears the man of blood had everwept.
“‘Now,’ said the old man, ‘aid me to bury my child.’ Carlini fetched twopickaxes; and the father and the lover began to dig at the foot of ahuge oak, beneath which the young girl was to repose. When the grave wasformed, the father embraced her first, and then the lover; afterwards,one taking the head, the other the feet, they placed her in the grave.Then they knelt on each side of the grave, and said the prayers of thedead. Then, when they had finished, they cast the earth over the corpse,until the grave was filled. Then, extending his hand, the old man said;‘I thank you, my son; and now leave me alone.’
“‘Yet——’ replied Carlini.
“‘Leave me, I command you.’
“Carlini obeyed, rejoined his comrades, folded himself in his cloak, andsoon appeared to sleep as soundly as the rest. It had been resolved thenight before to change their encampment. An hour before daybreak,Cucumetto aroused his men, and gave the word to march. But Carlini wouldnot quit the forest, without knowing what had become of Rita’s father.He went toward the place where he had left him. He found the old mansuspended from one of the branches of the oak which shaded hisdaughter’s grave. He then took an oath of bitter vengeance over the deadbody of the one and the tomb of the other. But he was unable to completethis oath, for two days afterwards, in an encounter with the Romancarbineers, Carlini was killed. There was some surprise, however, that,as he was with his face to the enemy, he should have received a ballbetween his shoulders. That astonishment ceased when one of the brigandsremarked to his comrades that Cucumetto was stationed ten paces inCarlini’s rear when he fell. On the morning of the departure from theforest of Frosinone he had followed Carlini in the darkness, and heardthis oath of vengeance, and, like a wise man, anticipated it.
“They told ten other stories of this bandit chief, each more singularthan the other. Thus, from Fondi to Perusia, everyone trembles at thename of Cucumetto.
“These narratives were frequently the theme of conversation betweenLuigi and Teresa. The young girl trembled very much at hearing thestories; but Vampa reassured her with a smile, tapping the butt of hisgood fowling-piece, which threw its ball so well; and if that did notrestore her courage, he pointed to a crow, perched on some dead branch,took aim, touched the trigger, and the bird fell dead at the foot of thetree. Time passed on, and the two young people had agreed to be marriedwhen Vampa should be twenty and Teresa nineteen years of age. They wereboth orphans, and had only their employers’ leave to ask, which had beenalready sought and obtained. One day when they were talking over theirplans for the future, they heard two or three reports of firearms, andthen suddenly a man came out of the wood, near which the two youngpersons used to graze their flocks, and hurried towards them. When hecame within hearing, he exclaimed:
‘I am pursued; can you conceal me?’
“They knew full well that this fugitive must be a bandit; but there isan innate sympathy between the Roman brigand and the Roman peasant andthe latter is always ready to aid the former. Vampa, without saying aword, hastened to the stone that closed up the entrance to their grotto,drew it away, made a sign to the fugitive to take refuge there, in aretreat unknown to everyone, closed the stone upon him, and then wentand resumed his seat by Teresa. Instantly afterwards four carbineers, onhorseback, appeared on the edge of the wood; three of them appeared tobe looking for the fugitive, while the fourth dragged a brigand prisonerby the neck. The three carbineers looked about carefully on every side,saw the young peasants, and galloping up, began to question them. Theyhad seen no one.
“‘That is very annoying,’ said the brigadier; for the man we are lookingfor is the chief.’
“‘Cucumetto?’ cried Luigi and Teresa at the same moment.
“‘Yes,’ replied the brigadier; ‘and as his head is valued at a thousandRoman crowns, there would have been five hundred for you, if you hadhelped us to catch him.’ The two young persons exchanged looks. Thebrigadier had a moment’s hope. Five hundred Roman crowns are threethousand lire, and three thousand lire are a fortune for two poororphans who are going to be married.
“‘Yes, it is very annoying,’ said Vampa; ‘but we have not seen him.’
“Then the carbineers scoured the country in different directions, but invain; then, after a time, they disappeared. Vampa then removed thestone, and Cucumetto came out. Through the crevices in the granite hehad seen the two young peasants talking with the carbineers, and guessedthe subject of their parley. He had read in the countenances of Luigiand Teresa their steadfast resolution not to surrender him, and he drewfrom his pocket a purse full of gold, which he offered to them. ButVampa raised his head proudly; as to Teresa, her eyes sparkled when shethought of all the fine gowns and gay jewellery she could buy with thispurse of gold.
“Cucumetto was a cunning fiend, and had assumed the form of a brigandinstead of a serpent, and this look from Teresa showed to him that shewas a worthy daughter of Eve, and he returned to the forest, pausingseveral times on his way, under the pretext of saluting his protectors.
“Several days elapsed, and they neither saw nor heard of Cucumetto. Thetime of the Carnival was at hand. The Count of San-Felice announced agrand masked ball, to which all that were distinguished in Rome wereinvited. Teresa had a great desire to see this ball. Luigi askedpermission of his protector, the steward, that she and he might bepresent amongst the servants of the house. This was granted. The ballwas given by the Count for the particular pleasure of his daughterCarmela, whom he adored. Carmela was precisely the age and figure ofTeresa, and Teresa was as handsome as Carmela. On the evening of theball Teresa was attired in her best, her most brilliant ornaments in herhair, and gayest glass beads,—she was in the costume of the women ofFrascati. Luigi wore the very picturesque garb of the Roman peasant atholiday time. They both mingled, as they had leave to do, with theservants and peasants.
“The festa was magnificent; not only was the villa brilliantlyilluminated, but thousands of colored lanterns were suspended from thetrees in the garden; and very soon the palace overflowed to theterraces, and the terraces to the garden-walks. At each cross-path wasan orchestra, and tables spread with refreshments; the guests stopped,formed quadrilles, and danced in any part of the grounds they pleased.Carmela was attired like a woman of Sonnino. Her cap was embroideredwith pearls, the pins in her hair were of gold and diamonds, her girdlewas of Turkey silk, with large embroidered flowers, her bodice and skirtwere of cashmere, her apron of Indian muslin, and the buttons of hercorset were of jewels. Two of her companions were dressed, the one as awoman of Nettuno, and the other as a woman of La Riccia. Four young menof the richest and noblest families of Rome accompanied them with thatItalian freedom which has not its parallel in any other country in theworld. They were attired as peasants of Albano, Velletri, Civita-Castellana, and Sora. We need hardly add that these peasant costumes,like those of the young women, were brilliant with gold and jewels.
“Carmela wished to form a quadrille, but there was one lady wanting.Carmela looked all around her, but not one of the guests had a costumesimilar to her own, or those of her companions. The Count of San-Felicepointed out Teresa, who was hanging on Luigi’s arm in a group ofpeasants.
“‘Will you allow me, father?’ said Carmela.
“‘Certainly,’ replied the count, ‘are we not in Carnival time?’
“Carmela turned towards the young man who was talking with her, andsaying a few words to him, pointed with her finger to Teresa. The youngman looked, bowed in obedience, and then went to Teresa, and invited herto dance in a quadrille directed by the count’s daughter. Teresa felt aflush pass over her face; she looked a
t Luigi, who could not refuse hisassent. Luigi slowly relinquished Teresa’s arm, which he had heldbeneath his own, and Teresa, accompanied by her elegant cavalier, tookher appointed place with much agitation in the aristocratic quadrille.Certainly, in the eyes of an artist, the exact and strict costume ofTeresa had a very different character from that of Carmela and hercompanions; and Teresa was frivolous and coquettish, and thus theembroidery and muslins, the cashmere waist-girdles, all dazzled her, andthe reflection of sapphires and diamonds almost turned her giddy brain.
“Luigi felt a sensation hitherto unknown arising in his mind. It waslike an acute pain which gnawed at his heart, and then thrilled throughhis whole body. He followed with his eye each movement of Teresa and hercavalier; when their hands touched, he felt as though he should swoon;every pulse beat with violence, and it seemed as though a bell wereringing in his ears. When they spoke, although Teresa listened timidlyand with downcast eyes to the conversation of her cavalier, as Luigicould read in the ardent looks of the good-looking young man that hislanguage was that of praise, it seemed as if the whole world was turninground with him, and all the voices of hell were whispering in his earsideas of murder and assassination. Then fearing that his paroxysm mightget the better of him, he clutched with one hand the branch of a treeagainst which he was leaning, and with the other convulsively graspedthe dagger with a carved handle which was in his belt, and which,unwittingly, he drew from the scabbard from time to time.
“Luigi was jealous!
“He felt that, influenced by her ambitions and coquettish disposition,Teresa might escape him.
“The young peasant girl, at first timid and scared, soon recoveredherself. We have said that Teresa was handsome, but this is not all;Teresa was endowed with all those wild graces which are so much morepotent than our affected and studied elegancies. She had almost all thehonors of the quadrille, and if she were envious of the Count of San-Felice’s daughter, we will not undertake to say that Carmela was notjealous of her. And with overpowering compliments her handsome cavalierled her back to the place whence he had taken her, and where Luigiawaited her. Twice or thrice during the dance the young girl had glancedat Luigi, and each time she saw that he was pale and that his featureswere agitated, once even the blade of his knife, half drawn from itssheath, had dazzled her eyes with its sinister glare. Thus, it wasalmost tremblingly that she resumed her lover’s arm. The quadrille hadbeen most perfect, and it was evident there was a great demand for arepetition, Carmela alone objecting to it, but the Count of San-Felicebesought his daughter so earnestly, that she acceded.
“One of the cavaliers then hastened to invite Teresa, without whom itwas impossible for the quadrille to be formed, but the young girl haddisappeared.
“The truth was, that Luigi had not felt the strength to support anothersuch trial, and, half by persuasion and half by force, he had removedTeresa toward another part of the garden. Teresa had yielded in spite ofherself, but when she looked at the agitated countenance of the youngman, she understood by his silence and trembling voice that somethingstrange was passing within him. She herself was not exempt from internalemotion, and without having done anything wrong, yet fully comprehendedthat Luigi was right in reproaching her. Why, she did not know, but yetshe did not the less feel that these reproaches were merited.
“However, to Teresa’s great astonishment, Luigi remained mute, and not aword escaped his lips the rest of the evening. When the chill of thenight had driven away the guests from the gardens, and the gates of thevilla were closed on them for the festa in-doors, he took Teresa quiteaway, and as he left her at her home, he said:
“‘Teresa, what were you thinking of as you danced opposite the youngCountess of San-Felice?’
“‘I thought,’ replied the young girl, with all the frankness of hernature, ‘that I would give half my life for a costume such as she wore.’
“‘And what said your cavalier to you?’
“‘He said it only depended on myself to have it, and I had only one wordto say.’
“‘He was right,’ said Luigi. ‘Do you desire it as ardently as you say?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Well, then, you shall have it!’
“The young girl, much astonished, raised her head to look at him, buthis face was so gloomy and terrible that her words froze to her lips. AsLuigi spoke thus, he left her. Teresa followed him with her eyes intothe darkness as long as she could, and when he had quite disappeared,she went into the house with a sigh.
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“That night a memorable event occurred, due, no doubt, to the imprudenceof some servant who had neglected to extinguish the lights. The Villa ofSan-Felice took fire in the rooms adjoining the very apartment of thelovely Carmela. Awakened in the night by the light of the flames, shesprang out of bed, wrapped herself in a dressing-gown, and attempted toescape by the door, but the corridor by which she hoped to fly wasalready a prey to the flames. She then returned to her room, calling forhelp as loudly as she could, when suddenly her window, which was twentyfeet from the ground, was opened, a young peasant jumped into thechamber, seized her in his arms, and with superhuman skill and strengthconveyed her to the turf of the grass-plot, where she fainted. When sherecovered, her father was by her side. All the servants surrounded her,offering her assistance. An entire wing of the villa was burnt down; butwhat of that, as long as Carmela was safe and uninjured?
“Her preserver was everywhere sought for, but he did not appear; he wasinquired after, but no one had seen him. Carmela was greatly troubledthat she had not recognized him.
“As the count was immensely rich, excepting the danger Carmela hadrun,—and the marvellous manner in which she had escaped, made thatappear to him rather a favor of Providence than a real misfortune,—theloss occasioned by the conflagration was to him but a trifle.
“The next day, at the usual hour, the two young peasants were on theborders of the forest. Luigi arrived first. He came toward Teresa inhigh spirits, and seemed to have completely forgotten the events of theprevious evening. The young girl was very pensive, but seeing Luigi socheerful, she on her part assumed a smiling air, which was natural toher when she was not excited or in a passion.
“Luigi took her arm beneath his own, and led her to the door of thegrotto. Then he paused. The young girl, perceiving that there wassomething extraordinary, looked at him steadfastly.
“‘Teresa,’ said Luigi, ‘yesterday evening you told me you would give allthe world to have a costume similar to that of the count’s daughter.’
“‘Yes,’ replied Teresa with astonishment; ‘but I was mad to utter such awish.’
“‘And I replied, “Very well, you shall have it.”’
“‘Yes,’ replied the young girl, whose astonishment increased at everyword uttered by Luigi, ‘but of course your reply was only to please me.’
“‘I have promised no more than I have given you, Teresa,’ said Luigiproudly. ‘Go into the grotto and dress yourself.’
“At these words he drew away the stone, and showed Teresa the grotto,lighted up by two wax lights, which burnt on each side of a splendidmirror; on a rustic table, made by Luigi, were spread out the pearlnecklace and the diamond pins, and on a chair at the side was laid therest of the costume.
“Teresa uttered a cry of joy, and, without inquiring whence this attirecame, or even thanking Luigi, darted into the grotto, transformed into adressing-room.
“Luigi pushed the stone behind her, for on the crest of a small adjacenthill which cut off the view toward Palestrina, he saw a traveller onhorseback, stopping a moment, as if uncertain of his road, and thuspresenting against the blue sky that perfect outline which is peculiarto distant objects in southern climes. When he saw Luigi, he put hishorse into a gallop and advanced toward him.
“Luigi was not mistaken. The traveller, who was going from Palestrina toTivoli, had mistaken his way; the young man directed him; but as at adistance of a quarter of a mile the road again divided into three ways,and on re
aching these the traveller might again stray from his route, hebegged Luigi to be his guide.
“Luigi threw his cloak on the ground, placed his carbine on hisshoulder, and freed from his heavy covering, preceded the traveller withthe rapid step of a mountaineer, which a horse can scarcely keep upwith. In ten minutes Luigi and the traveller reached the cross-roads. Onarriving there, with an air as majestic as that of an emperor, hestretched his hand towards that one of the roads which the traveller wasto follow.
“‘That is your road, excellency, and now you cannot again mistake.’
“‘And here is your recompense,’ said the traveller, offering the youngherdsman some small pieces of money.
“‘Thank you,’ said Luigi, drawing back his hand; ‘I render a service, Ido not sell it.’
“‘Well,’ replied the traveller, who seemed used to this differencebetween the servility of a man of the cities and the pride of themountaineer, ‘if you refuse wages, you will, perhaps, accept a gift.’
“‘Ah, yes, that is another thing.’
“‘Then,’ said the traveller, ‘take these two Venetian sequins and givethem to your bride, to make herself a pair of earrings.’
“‘And then do you take this poniard,’ said the young herdsman; ‘you willnot find one better carved between Albano and Civita-Castellana.’
“‘I accept it,’ answered the traveller, ‘but then the obligation will beon my side, for this poniard is worth more than two sequins.’
“‘For a dealer perhaps; but for me, who engraved it myself, it is hardlyworth a piastre.’
“‘What is your name?’ inquired the traveller.
“‘Luigi Vampa,’ replied the shepherd, with the same air as he would havereplied, Alexander, King of Macedon. ‘And yours?’
“‘I,’ said the traveller, ‘am called Sinbad the Sailor.’”
Franz d’Épinay started with surprise.
“Sinbad the Sailor?” he said.
“Yes,” replied the narrator; “that was the name which the traveller gaveto Vampa as his own.”
“Well, and what may you have to say against this name?” inquired Albert;“it is a very pretty name, and the adventures of the gentleman of thatname amused me very much in my youth, I must confess.”
Franz said no more. The name of Sinbad the Sailor, as may well besupposed, awakened in him a world of recollections, as had the name ofthe Count of Monte Cristo on the previous evening.
“Proceed!” said he to the host.
“Vampa put the two sequins haughtily into his pocket, and slowlyreturned by the way he had gone. As he came within two or three hundredpaces of the grotto, he thought he heard a cry. He listened to knowwhence this sound could proceed. A moment afterwards he thought he heardhis own name pronounced distinctly.
“The cry proceeded from the grotto. He bounded like a chamois, cockinghis carbine as he went, and in a moment reached the summit of a hillopposite to that on which he had perceived the traveller. Three criesfor help came more distinctly to his ear. He cast his eyes around himand saw a man carrying off Teresa, as Nessus, the centaur, carriedDeianira.
“This man, who was hastening towards the wood, was already three-quarters of the way on the road from the grotto to the forest. Vampameasured the distance; the man was at least two hundred paces in advanceof him, and there was not a chance of overtaking him. The young shepherdstopped, as if his feet had been rooted to the ground; then he put thebutt of his carbine to his shoulder, took aim at the ravisher, followedhim for a second in his track, and then fired.
“The ravisher stopped suddenly, his knees bent under him, and he fellwith Teresa in his arms. The young girl rose instantly, but the man layon the earth struggling in the agonies of death. Vampa then rushedtowards Teresa; for at ten paces from the dying man her legs had failedher, and she had dropped on her knees, so that the young man feared thatthe ball that had brought down his enemy, had also wounded hisbetrothed.
“Fortunately, she was unscathed, and it was fright alone that hadovercome Teresa. When Luigi had assured himself that she was safe andunharmed, he turned towards the wounded man. He had just expired, withclenched hands, his mouth in a spasm of agony, and his hair on end inthe sweat of death. His eyes remained open and menacing. Vampaapproached the corpse, and recognized Cucumetto.
“From the day on which the bandit had been saved by the two youngpeasants, he had been enamoured of Teresa, and had sworn she should behis. From that time he had watched them, and profiting by the momentwhen her lover had left her alone, had carried her off, and believed heat length had her in his power, when the ball, directed by the unerringskill of the young herdsman, had pierced his heart. Vampa gazed on himfor a moment without betraying the slightest emotion; while, on thecontrary, Teresa, shuddering in every limb, dared not approach the slainruffian but by degrees, and threw a hesitating glance at the dead bodyover the shoulder of her lover. Suddenly Vampa turned toward hismistress:
“‘Ah,’ said he—‘good, good! You are dressed; it is now my turn to dressmyself.’
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“Teresa was clothed from head to foot in the garb of the Count of San-Felice’s daughter. Vampa took Cucumetto’s body in his arms and conveyedit to the grotto, while in her turn Teresa remained outside. If a secondtraveller had passed, he would have seen a strange thing,—a shepherdesswatching her flock, clad in a cashmere grown, with ear-rings andnecklace of pearls, diamond pins, and buttons of sapphires, emeralds,and rubies. He would, no doubt, have believed that he had returned tothe times of Florian, and would have declared, on reaching Paris, thathe had met an Alpine shepherdess seated at the foot of the Sabine Hill.
“At the end of a quarter of an hour Vampa quitted the grotto; hiscostume was no less elegant than that of Teresa. He wore a vest ofgarnet-colored velvet, with buttons of cut gold; a silk waistcoatcovered with embroidery; a Roman scarf tied round his neck; a cartridge-box worked with gold, and red and green silk; sky-blue velvet breeches,fastened above the knee with diamond buckles; garters of deerskin,worked with a thousand arabesques, and a hat whereon hung ribbons of allcolors; two watches hung from his girdle, and a splendid poniard was inhis belt.
“Teresa uttered a cry of admiration. Vampa in this attire resembled apainting by Léopold Robert or Schnetz. He had assumed the entire costumeof Cucumetto. The young man saw the effect produced on his betrothed,and a smile of pride passed over his lips.
“‘Now,’ he said to Teresa, ‘are you ready to share my fortune, whateverit may be?’
“‘Oh, yes!’ exclaimed the young girl enthusiastically.
“‘And follow me wherever I go?’
“‘To the world’s end.’
“‘Then take my arm, and let us on; we have no time to lose.’
“The young girl did so without questioning her lover as to where he wasconducting her, for he appeared to her at this moment as handsome,proud, and powerful as a god. They went towards the forest, and soonentered it.
“We need scarcely say that all the paths of the mountain were known toVampa; he therefore went forward without a moment’s hesitation, althoughthere was no beaten track, but he knew his path by looking at the treesand bushes, and thus they kept on advancing for nearly an hour and ahalf. At the end of this time they had reached the thickest part of theforest. A torrent, whose bed was dry, led into a deep gorge. Vampa tookthis wild road, which, enclosed between two ridges, and shadowed by thetufted umbrage of the pines, seemed, but for the difficulties of itsdescent, that path to Avernus of which Virgil speaks. Teresa had becomealarmed at the wild and deserted look of the plain around her, andpressed closely against her guide, not uttering a syllable; but as shesaw him advance with even step and composed countenance, she endeavoredto repress her emotion.
“Suddenly, about ten paces from them, a man advanced from behind a treeand aimed at Vampa.
“‘Not another step,’ he said, ‘or you are a dead man.’
“‘What, then,’ said Vampa, raising his hand with a gesture of disdai
n,while Teresa, no longer able to restrain her alarm, clung closely tohim, ‘do wolves rend each other?’
“‘Who are you?’ inquired the sentinel.
“‘I am Luigi Vampa, shepherd of the San-Felice farm.’
“‘What do you want?’
“‘I would speak with your companions who are in the glade at RoccaBianca.’
“‘Follow me, then,’ said the sentinel; ‘or, as you know your way, gofirst.’
“Vampa smiled disdainfully at this precaution on the part of the bandit,went before Teresa, and continued to advance with the same firm and easystep as before. At the end of ten minutes the bandit made them a sign tostop. The two young persons obeyed. Then the bandit thrice imitated thecry of a crow; a croak answered this signal.
“‘Good!’ said the sentry, ‘you may now go on.’
“Luigi and Teresa again set forward; as they went on Teresa clungtremblingly to her lover at the sight of weapons and the glistening ofcarbines through the trees. The retreat of Rocca Bianca was at the topof a small mountain, which no doubt in former days had been a volcano—anextinct volcano before the days when Remus and Romulus had deserted Albato come and found the city of Rome.
“Teresa and Luigi reached the summit, and all at once found themselvesin the presence of twenty bandits.
“‘Here is a young man who seeks and wishes to speak to you,’ said thesentinel.
“‘What has he to say?’ inquired the young man who was in command in thechief’s absence.
“‘I wish to say that I am tired of a shepherd’s life,’ was Vampa’sreply.
“‘Ah, I understand,’ said the lieutenant; ‘and you seek admittance intoour ranks?’
“‘Welcome!’ cried several bandits from Ferrusino, Pampinara, and Anagni,who had recognized Luigi Vampa.
“‘Yes, but I came to ask something more than to be your companion.’
“‘And what may that be?’ inquired the bandits with astonishment.
“‘I come to ask to be your captain,’ said the young man.
“The bandits shouted with laughter.
“‘And what have you done to aspire to this honor?’ demanded thelieutenant.
“‘I have killed your chief, Cucumetto, whose dress I now wear; and I setfire to the villa San-Felice to procure a wedding-dress for mybetrothed.’
“An hour afterwards Luigi Vampa was chosen captain, vice Cucumetto,deceased.”
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“Well, my dear Albert,” said Franz, turning towards his friend; “whatthink you of citizen Luigi Vampa?”
“I say he is a myth,” replied Albert, “and never had an existence.”
“And what may a myth be?” inquired Pastrini.
“The explanation would be too long, my dear landlord,” replied Franz.
“And you say that Signor Vampa exercises his profession at this momentin the environs of Rome?”
“And with a boldness of which no bandit before him ever gave anexample.”
“Then the police have vainly tried to lay hands on him?”
“Why, you see, he has a good understanding with the shepherds in theplains, the fishermen of the Tiber, and the smugglers of the coast. Theyseek for him in the mountains, and he is on the waters; they follow himon the waters, and he is on the open sea; then they pursue him, and hehas suddenly taken refuge in the islands, at Giglio, Giannutri, or MonteCristo; and when they hunt for him there, he reappears suddenly atAlbano, Tivoli, or La Riccia.”
“And how does he behave towards travellers?”
“Alas! his plan is very simple. It depends on the distance he may befrom the city, whether he gives eight hours, twelve hours, or a daywherein to pay their ransom; and when that time has elapsed he allowsanother hour’s grace. At the sixtieth minute of this hour, if the moneyis not forthcoming, he blows out the prisoner’s brains with a pistol-shot, or plants his dagger in his heart, and that settles the account.”
“Well, Albert,” inquired Franz of his companion, “are you still disposedto go to the Colosseum by the outer wall?”
“Quite so,” said Albert, “if the way be picturesque.”
The clock struck nine as the door opened, and a coachman appeared.
“Excellencies,” said he, “the coach is ready.”
“Well, then,” said Franz, “let us to the Colosseum.”
“By the Porta del Popolo or by the streets, your excellencies?”
“By the streets, morbleu! by the streets!” cried Franz.
“Ah, my dear fellow,” said Albert, rising, and lighting his third cigar,“really, I thought you had more courage.”
So saying, the two young men went down the staircase, and got into thecarriage.
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The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 34