Remitted to him soon,
if the money were not forthcoming, and that in this way he would
receive the boy by instalments until he came to terms.
The fair Venetian shuddered as she heard these tales. The landlord,
like a true story-teller, doubled the dose when he saw how it operated.
He was just proceeding to relate the misfortunes of a great English
lord and his family, when the Englishman, tired of his volubility,
testily interrupted him, and pronounced these accounts mere traveller's
tales, or the exaggerations of peasants and innkeepers. The landlord
was indignant at the doubt levelled at his stories, and the innuendo
levelled at his cloth; he cited half a dozen stories still more
terrible, to corroborate those he had already told.
"I don't believe a word of them," said the Englishman.
"But the robbers had been tried and executed."
"All a farce!"
"But their heads were stuck up along the road."
"Old skulls accumulated during a century."
The landlord muttered to himself as he went out at the door, "San
Genaro, come sono singolari questi Inglesi."
A fresh hubbub outside of the inn announced the arrival of more
travellers; and from the variety of voices, or rather clamors, the
clattering of horses' hoofs, the rattling of wheels, and the general
uproar both within and without, the arrival seemed to be numerous. It
was, in fact, the procaccio, and its convoy - a kind of caravan of
merchandise, that sets out on stated days, under an escort of soldiery
to protect it from the robbers. Travellers avail themselves of the
occasion, and many carriages accompany the procaccio. It was a long
time before either landlord or waiter returned, being hurried away by
the tempest of new custom. When mine host appeared, there was a smile
of triumph on his countenance. - "Perhaps," said he, as he cleared away
the table, "perhaps the signor has not heard of what has happened."
"What?" said the Englishman, drily.
"Oh, the procaccio has arrived, and has brought accounts of fresh
exploits of the robbers, signor."
"Pish!"
"There's more news of the English Milor and his family," said the host,
emphatically.
"An English lord.-What English lord?"
"Milor Popkin."
"Lord Popkin? I never heard of such a title!"
"O Sicuro - a great nobleman that passed through here lately with his
Milady and daughters - a magnifico - one of the grand councillors of
London - un almanno."
"Almanno - almanno? - tut! he means alderman."
"Sicuro, aldermanno Popkin, and the principezza Popkin, and the signorina
Popkin!" said mine host, triumphantly. He would now have entered into a
full detail, but was thwarted by the Englishman, who seemed determined
not to credit or indulge him in his stories. An Italian tongue,
however, is not easily checked: that of mine host continued to run on
with increasing volubility as he conveyed the fragments of the repast
out of the room, and the last that could be distinguished of his voice,
as it died away along the corridor, was the constant recurrence of the
favorite word Popkin - Popkin - Popkin - pop - pop - pop.
The arrival of the procaccio had indeed filled the house with stories
as it had with guests. The Englishman and his companions walked out
after supper into the great hall, or common room of the inn, which runs
through the centre building; a gloomy, dirty-looking apartment, with
tables placed in various parts of it, at which some of the travellers
were seated in groups, while others strolled about in famished
impatience for their evening's meal. As the procaccio was a kind of
caravan of travellers, there were people of every class and country,
who had come in all kinds of vehicles; and though they kept in some
measure in separate parties, yet the being united under one common
escort had jumbled them into companionship on the road. Their
formidable number and the formidable guard that accompanied them, had
prevented any molestation from the banditti; but every carriage had its
tale of wonder, and one vied with another in the recital. Not one but
had seen groups of robbers peering over the rocks; or their guns
peeping out from among the bushes, or had been reconnoitred by some
suspicious-looking fellow with scowling eye, who disappeared on seeing
the guard.
The fair Venetian listened to all these stories with that eager
curiosity with which we seek to pamper any feeling of alarm. Even the
Englishman began to feel interested in the subject, and desirous of
gaining more correct information than these mere flying reports.
He mingled in one of the groups which appeared to be the most
respectable, and which was assembled round a tall, thin person, with
long Roman nose, a high forehead, and lively prominent eye, beaming
from under a green velvet travelling-cap with gold tassel. He was
holding forth with all the fluency of a man who talks well and likes to
exert his talent. He was of Rome; a surgeon by profession, a poet by
choice, and one who was something of an improvvisatore. He soon gave
the Englishman abundance of information respecting the banditti.
"The fact is," said he, "that many of the people in the villages among
the mountains are robbers, or rather the robbers find perfect asylum
among them. They range over a vast extent of wild impracticable
country, along the chain of Apennines, bordering on different states;
they know all the difficult passes, the short cuts and strong-holds.
They are secure of the good-will of the poor and peaceful inhabitants
of those regions, whom they never disturb, and whom they often enrich.
Indeed, they are looked upon as a sort of illegitimate heroes among the
mountain villages, and some of the frontier towns, where they dispose
of their plunder.
