He made a
signal for his comrades to join him. They had a short conference, and
then returning to me with eagerness, "Your ransom is paid," said he;
"you are free!"
Though I had anticipated deliverance, I cannot tell you what a rush of
delight these tidings gave me. I cared not to finish my repast, but
prepared to depart. The captain took me by the hand; requested
permission to write to me, and begged me not to forget the passport. I
replied, that I hoped to be of effectual service to him, and that I
relied on his honor to return the prince's note for five hundred
dollars, now that the cash was paid. He regarded me for a moment with
surprise; then, seeming to recollect himself, "E giusto," said he,
"eccoloadio!"[1] He delivered me the note, pressed my hand once more,
and we separated. The laborers were permitted to follow me, and we
resumed with joy our road towards Tusculum.
[Footnote 1: It is just - there it is - adieu!]
* * * * *
The artist ceased to speak; the party continued for a few moments to
pace the shore of Terracina in silence. The story they had heard had
made a deep impression on them, particularly on the fair Venetian, who
had gradually regained her husband's arm. At the part that related to
the young girl of Frosinone, she had been violently affected; sobs
broke from her; she clung close to her husband, and as she looked up to
him as if for protection, the moon-beams shining on her beautifully
fair countenance showed it paler than usual with terror, while tears
glittered in her fine dark eyes. "O caro mio!" would she murmur,
shuddering at every atrocious circumstance of the story.
"Corragio, mia vita!" was the reply, as the husband gently and fondly
tapped the white hand that lay upon his arm.
The Englishman alone preserved his usual phlegm, and the fair Venetian
was piqued at it.
She had pardoned him a want of gallantry towards herself, though a sin
of omission seldom met with in the gallant climate of Italy, but the
quiet coolness which he maintained in matters which so much affected
her, and the slow credence which he had given to the stories which had
filled her with alarm, were quite vexatious.
"Santa Maria!" said she to husband as they retired for the night, "what
insensible beings these English are!"
In the morning all was bustle at the inn at Terracina.
The procaccio had departed at day-break, on its route towards Rome, but
the Englishman was yet to start, and the departure of an English
equipage is always enough to keep an inn in a bustle. On this occasion
there was more than usual stir; for the Englishman having much property
about him, and having been convinced of the real danger of the road,
had applied to the police and obtained, by dint of liberal pay, an
escort of eight dragoons and twelve foot-soldiers, as far as Fondi.
Perhaps, too, there might have been a little ostentation at bottom,
from which, with great delicacy be it spoken, English travellers are
not always exempt; though to say the truth, he had nothing of it in his
manner. He moved about taciturn and reserved as usual, among the gaping
crowd in his gingerbread-colored travelling cap, with his hands in his
pockets. He gave laconic orders to John as he packed away the thousand
and one indispensable conveniencies of the night, double loaded his
pistols with great sang-froid, and deposited them in the pockets of
the carriage, taking no notice of a pair of keen eyes gazing on him
from among the herd of loitering idlers. The fair Venetian now came up
with a request made in her dulcet tones, that he would permit their
carriage to proceed under protection of his escort. The Englishman, who
was busy loading another pair of pistols for his servant, and held the
ramrod between his teeth, nodded assent as a matter of course, but
without lifting up his eyes. The fair Venetian was not accustomed to
such indifference. "O Dio!" ejaculated she softly as she retired, "como
sono freddi questi Inglesi." At length off they set in gallant style,
the eight dragoons prancing in front, the twelve foot-soldiers marching
in rear, and carriages moving slowly in the centre to enable the
infantry to keep pace with them. They had proceeded but a few hundred
yards when it was discovered that some indispensable article had been
left behind.
In fact, the Englishman's purse was missing, and John was despatched to
the inn to search for it.
This occasioned a little delay, and the carriage of the Venetians drove
slowly on. John came back out of breath and out of humor; the purse was
not to be found; his master was irritated; he recollected the very
place where it lay; the cursed Italian servant had pocketed it. John
was again sent back. He returned once more, without the purse, but with
the landlord and the whole household at his heels. A thousand
ejaculations and protestations, accompanied by all sorts of grimaces
and contortions. "No purse had been seen - his excellenza must be
mistaken."
No - his excellenza was not mistaken; the purse lay on the marble table,
under the mirror: a green purse, half full of gold and silver. Again a
thousand grimaces and contortions, and vows by San Genario, that no
purse of the kind had been seen.
The Englishman became furious. "The waiter had pocketed it. The
landlord was a knave. The inn a den of thieves - it was a d - - d
country - he had been cheated and plundered from one end of it to the
other - but he'd have satisfaction - he'd drive right off to the police."
He was on the point of ordering the postilions to turn back, when, on
rising, he displaced the cushion of the carriage, and the purse of
money fell chinking to the floor.
