There's no getting anything done. I
think your honor had better step into the house and get something to
eat; it will be a long while before we get to Fundy."
"D - n the house - it's a mere trick - I'll not eat anything, just to
spite them," said the Englishman, still more crusty at the prospect of
being so long without his dinner.
"They say your honor's very wrong," said John, "to set off at this late
hour. The road's full of highwaymen."
"Mere tales to get custom."
"The estafette which passed us was stopped by a whole gang," said John,
increasing his emphasis with each additional piece of information.
"I don't believe a word of it."
"They robbed him of his breeches," said John, giving at the same time a
hitch to his own waist-band.
"All humbug!"
Here the dark, handsome young man stepped forward and addressing the
Englishman very politely in broken English, invited him to partake of a
repast he was about to make. "Thank'ee," said the Englishman, thrusting
his hands deeper into his pockets, and casting a slight side glance of
suspicion at the young man, as if he thought from his civility he must
have a design upon his purse.
"We shall be most happy if you will do us that favor," said the lady,
in her soft Venetian dialect. There was a sweetness in her accents that
was most persuasive. The Englishman cast a look upon her countenance;
her beauty was still more eloquent. His features instantly relaxed. He
made an attempt at a civil bow. "With great pleasure, signora," said
he.
In short, the eagerness to "get on" was suddenly slackened; the
determination to famish himself as far as Fondi by way of punishing the
landlord was abandoned; John chose the best apartment in the inn for
his master's reception, and preparations were made to remain there
until morning.
The carriage was unpacked of such of its contents as were indispensable
for the night. There was the usual parade of trunks and writing-desks,
and portfolios, and dressing-boxes, and those other oppressive
conveniences which burden a comfortable man. The observant loiterers
about the inn door, wrapped up in great dirt-colored cloaks, with only
a hawk's eye uncovered, made many remarks to each other on this
quantity of luggage that seemed enough for an army. And the domestics
of the inn talked with wonder of the splendid dressing-case, with its
gold and silver furniture that was spread out on the toilette table,
and the bag of gold that chinked as it was taken out of the trunk. The
strange "Milor's" wealth, and the treasures he carried about him, were
the talk, that evening, over all Terracina.
The Englishman took some time to make his ablutions and arrange his
dress for table, and after considerable labor and effort in putting
himself at his ease, made his appearance, with stiff white cravat, his
clothes free from the least speck of dust, and adjusted with precision.
He made a formal bow on entering, which no doubt he meant to be
cordial, but which any one else would have considered cool, and took
his seat.
The supper, as it was termed by the Italian, or dinner, as the
Englishman called it, was now served. Heaven and earth, and the waters
under the earth, had been moved to furnish it, for there were birds of
the air and beasts of the earth and fish of the sea. The Englishman's
servant, too, had turned the kitchen topsy-turvy in his zeal to cook
his master a beefsteak; and made his appearance loaded with ketchup,
and soy, and Cayenne pepper, and Harvey sauce, and a bottle of port
wine, from that warehouse, the carriage, in which his master seemed
desirous of carrying England about the world with him. Every thing,
however, according to the Englishman, was execrable. The tureen of soup
was a black sea, with livers and limbs and fragments of all kinds of
birds and beasts, floating like wrecks about it. A meagre winged
animal, which my host called a delicate chicken, was too delicate for
his stomach, for it had evidently died of a consumption. The macaroni
was smoked. The beefsteak was tough buffalo's flesh, and the
countenance of mine host confirmed the assertion. Nothing seemed to hit
his palate but a dish of stewed eels, of which he ate with great
relish, but had nearly refunded them when told that they were vipers,
caught among the rocks of Terracina, and esteemed a great delicacy.
In short, the Englishman ate and growled, and ate and growled, like a
cat eating in company, pronouncing himself poisoned by every dish, yet
eating on in defiance of death and the doctor. The Venetian lady, not
accustomed to English travellers, almost repented having persuaded him
to the meal; for though very gracious to her, he was so crusty to all
the world beside, that she stood in awe of him. There is nothing,
however, that conquers John Bull's crustiness sooner than eating,
whatever may be the cookery; and nothing brings him into good humor
with his company sooner than eating together; the Englishman,
therefore, had not half finished his repast and his bottle, before he
began to think the Venetian a very tolerable fellow for a foreigner,
and his wife almost handsome enough to be an Englishwoman.
In the course of the repast the tales of robbers which harassed the
mind of the fair Venetian, were brought into discussion. The landlord
and the waiter served up such a number of them as they served up the
dishes, that they almost frightened away the poor lady's appetite.
Among these was the story of the school of Terracina, still fresh in
every mind, where the students were carried up the mountains by the
banditti, in hopes of ransom, and one of them massacred, to bring the
parents to terms for the others.
