The Towns And Villages
Among The Forests Of The Abruzzi, Shut Up From The Rest Of The World,
Are Almost Like Savage Dens.
It is wonderful that such rude abodes, so
little known and visited, should be embosomed in the midst of one of
the most travelled and civilized countries of Europe.
Among these
regions the robber prowls unmolested; not a mountaineer hesitates to
give him secret harbor and assistance. The shepherds, however, who tend
their flocks among the mountains, are the favorite emissaries of the
robbers, when they would send messages down to the valleys either for
ransom or supplies. The shepherds of the Abruzzi are as wild as the
scenes they frequent. They are clad in a rude garb of black or brown
sheep-skin; they have high conical hats, and coarse sandals of cloth
bound round their legs with thongs, similar to those worn by the
robbers. They carry long staffs, on which as they lean they form
picturesque objects in the lonely landscape, and they are followed by
their ever-constant companion, the dog. They are a curious, questioning
set, glad at any time to relieve the monotony of their solitude by the
conversation of the passerby, and the dog will lend an attentive ear,
and put on as sagacious and inquisitive a look as his master.
But I am wandering from my story. I was now left alone with one of the
robbers, the confidential companion of the chief. He was the youngest
and most vigorous of the band, and though his countenance had something
of that dissolute fierceness which seems natural to this desperate,
lawless mode of life, yet there were traits of manly beauty about it.
As an artist I could not but admire it. I had remarked in him an air of
abstraction and reverie, and at times a movement of inward suffering
and impatience. He now sat on the ground; his elbows on his knees, his
head resting between his clenched fists, and his eyes fixed on the
earth with an expression of sad and bitter rumination. I had grown
familiar with him from repeated conversations, and had found him
superior in mind to the rest of the band. I was anxious to seize every
opportunity of sounding the feelings of these singular beings. I
fancied I read in the countenance of this one traces of
self-condemnation and remorse; and the ease with which I had drawn
forth the confidence of the chieftain encouraged me to hope the same
with his followers.
After a little preliminary conversation, I ventured to ask him if he
did not feel regret at having abandoned his family and taken to this
dangerous profession. "I feel," replied he, "but one regret, and that
will end only with my life;" as he said this he pressed his clenched
fists upon his bosom, drew his breath through his set teeth, and added
with deep emotion, "I have something within here that stifles me; it is
like a burning iron consuming my very heart. I could tell you a
miserable story, but not now - another time." - He relapsed into his
former position, and sat with his head between his hands, muttering to
himself in broken ejaculations, and what appeared at times to be curses
and maledictions. I saw he was not in a mood to be disturbed, so I left
him to himself. In a little time the exhaustion of his feelings, and
probably the fatigues he had undergone in this expedition, began to
produce drowsiness. He struggled with it for a time, but the warmth and
sultriness of mid-day made it irresistible, and he at length stretched
himself upon the herbage and fell asleep.
I now beheld a chance of escape within my reach. My guard lay before me
at my mercy. His vigorous limbs relaxed by sleep; his bosom open for
the blow; his carbine slipped from his nerveless grasp, and lying by
his side; his stiletto half out of the pocket in which it was usually
carried. But two of his comrades were in sight, and those at a
considerable distance, on the edge of the mountain; their backs turned
to us, and their attention occupied in keeping a look-out upon the
plain. Through a strip of intervening forest, and at the foot of a
steep descent, I beheld the village of Rocca Priori. To have secured
the carbine of the sleeping brigand, to have seized upon his poniard
and have plunged it in his heart, would have been the work of an
instant. Should he die without noise, I might dart through the forest
and down to Rocca Priori before my flight might be discovered. In case
of alarm, I should still have a fair start of the robbers, and a chance
of getting beyond the reach of their shot.
Here then was an opportunity for both escape and vengeance; perilous,
indeed, but powerfully tempting. Had my situation been more critical I
could not have resisted it. I reflected, however, for a moment. The
attempt, if successful, would be followed by the sacrifice of my two
fellow prisoners, who were sleeping profoundly, and could not be
awakened in time to escape. The laborer who had gone after the ransom
might also fall a victim to the rage of the robbers, without the money
which he brought being saved. Besides, the conduct of the chief towards
me made me feel certain of speedy deliverance. These reflections
overcame the first powerful impulse, and I calmed the turbulent
agitation which it had awakened.
I again took out my materials for drawing, and amused myself with
sketching the magnificent prospect. It was now about noon, and every
thing seemed sunk into repose, like the bandit that lay sleeping before
me. The noon-tide stillness that reigned over these mountains, the vast
landscape below, gleaming with distant towns and dotted with various
habitations and signs of life, yet all so silent, had a powerful effect
upon my mind.
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