XXXIII. Bandits romains.

XXXIII

Roman Bandits.

The next day, Franz awoke first, and as soon as he was awake, he rang.

The tinkling of the bell was still vibrating when Master Pastrini entered in person.

“Well,” said the host triumphantly, and without even waiting for Franz to question him, “I rather suspected as much yesterday, Excellency, when I would not promise you anything; you set about it too late, and there is not a single carriage left in Rome: for the last three days, that is to understand.

“Yes,” replied Franz, “that is to say for those when it is absolutely necessary.”

“What is it?” asked Albert, entering. “No carriage?”

“Exactly, my dear friend,” answered Franz, “and you guessed it at the first stroke.”

“Well, that is a pretty city, your eternal city!”

“That is to say, Excellency,” resumed Master Pastrini, who wished to maintain the capital of the Christian world in a certain dignity toward his travelers, “that is to say there are no carriages from Sunday morning until Tuesday evening, but until then you will find fifty if you wish.”

“Ah! that is already something,” said Albert; “we are Thursday today; who knows, between now and Sunday, what may happen?”

“There will arrive ten to twelve thousand travelers,” answered Franz, “which will make the difficulty even greater.”

“My friend,” said Morcerf, “let us enjoy the present and not darken the future.”

“At least,” asked Franz, “shall we be able to have a window?”

“Overlooking what?”

“The Corso, of course!”

“Ah! yes indeed, a window!” exclaimed Master Pastrini; “impossible; utterly impossible! There remained one on the fifth floor of the Doria Palace, and it was let to a Russian prince for twenty sequins a day.”

The two young men looked at each other in stupefaction.

“Well, my dear,” said Franz to Albert, “do you know what is best to do? It is to go and spend the carnival at Venice; at least there, if we find no carriage, we shall find gondolas.”

“Ah! faith no!” cried Albert; “I have decided that I would see the carnival at Rome, and I shall see it there, were it on stilts.”

“Why!” cried Franz, “that is a triumphant idea, especially for putting out the moccoletti; we shall disguise ourselves as vampire clowns or inhabitants of the Landes, and we shall have a tremendous success.”

“Do Their Excellencies still wish for a carriage until Sunday?”

“Of course!” said Albert; “do you think we are going to run the streets of Rome on foot, like process-servers’ clerks?”

“I shall hasten to execute the orders of Their Excellencies,” said Master Pastrini: “only I warn them that the carriage will cost them six piastres a day.”

“And I, my dear Monsieur Pastrini,” said Franz, “I, who am not our neighbor the millionaire, warn you in my turn, that since this is the fourth time I have come to Rome, I know the price of carriages, ordinary days, Sundays and holidays. We will give you twelve piastres for today, tomorrow and the day after, and you will still have a very pretty profit.”

“However, Excellency!…” said Master Pastrini, trying to rebel.

“Go, dear host, go,” said Franz, “or I shall myself make my price with your affettatore, who is mine also, an old friend of mine, who has already robbed me of a good deal of money in his life, and who, in the hope of robbing me again, will pass for a smaller price than the one I offer you: you will therefore lose the difference, and it will be your fault.”

“Do not take that trouble, Excellency,” said Master Pastrini, with the smile of the Italian speculator who acknowledges himself beaten; “I shall do my best, and I hope you will be satisfied.”

“Admirable! that is what I call talking. When do you want the carriage?”

“In an hour.”

“In an hour it will be at the door.”

An hour later, indeed, the carriage awaited the two young men: it was a modest fiacre which, in view of the solemnity of the circumstance, had been elevated to the rank of a calash; but, however mediocre its appearance, the two young men would have been very happy to have such a vehicle for the last three days.

“Excellency!” cried the cicerone, seeing Franz put his nose to the window, “shall I bring the carriage up to the palace?”

Accustomed as Franz was to Italian emphasis, his first movement was to look around him; but it was indeed to himself that these words were addressed.

Franz was the Excellency; the carriage was the fiacre; the palace was the Hotel de Londres.

All the laudatory genius of the nation was in that single phrase.

Franz and Albert went down. The carriage drew up to the palace. Their Excellencies stretched their legs on the cushions, the cicerone jumped onto the back seat.

“Where does Your Excellency wish to be taken?”

“Why, to St. Peter’s first, and then to the Coliseum,” said Albert, a true Parisian.

But Albert did not know one thing: that it takes a day to see St. Peter’s, and a month to study it: the day therefore passed in nothing but seeing St. Peter’s.

Suddenly, the two friends perceived that the light was failing.

Franz pulled out his watch; it was half past four.

They immediately took the road back to the hotel. At the door, Franz gave the order to the coachman to be ready at eight o’clock. He wished to show Albert the Coliseum by moonlight, as he had shown him St. Peter’s in broad daylight. When one shows a friend a city one has already seen, one puts into it the same coquetry as in showing a woman with whom one has been a lover.

Accordingly, Franz traced out his itinerary to the coachman; he was to leave by the Porta del Popolo, follow the outer wall and re-enter by the Porta San-Giovanni. Thus the Coliseum would appear to them without any preparation, and without the Capitol, the Forum, the arch of Septimius Severus, the temple of Antoninus and Faustina and the Via Sacra having served as steps placed on its route to diminish it.

They sat down to table: Master Pastrini had promised his guests an excellent feast; he gave them a passable dinner: there was nothing to say.

At the end of the dinner, he entered himself: Franz at first thought it was to receive his compliments and was preparing to pay them, when at his first words he interrupted him:

“Excellency,” he said, “I am flattered by your approval; but it was not for that that I came up to you….”

“Was it to tell us that you had found a carriage?” asked Albert, lighting his cigar.

“Still less, and indeed, Excellency, you will do well to think no more of it and to make up your mind to it. At Rome, things can be or cannot be. When it has been said that they cannot be, it is finished.”

“At Paris, it is much more convenient: when it cannot be, one pays double and has at once what one asks for.”

“I hear that said by all the French,” said Master Pastrini, a little piqued, “which is why I do not understand how they travel.”

“But also,” said Albert, phlegmatically puffing his smoke at the ceiling and leaning back balanced on the two hind legs of his armchair, “it is fools and simpletons like us who travel; sensible people do not leave their hotel in the rue du Helder, the boulevard de Gand and the café de Paris.”

It goes without saying that Albert lived in the aforementioned street, took his fashionable walk every day, and dined daily at the only café where one dines, when, that is, one is on good terms with the waiters.

Master Pastrini remained silent for a moment; it was evident that he was meditating his reply, which no doubt did not seem perfectly clear to him.

“But finally,” said Franz in his turn, interrupting his host’s geographical reflections, “you came for some purpose; will you explain the object of your visit?”

“Ah! that is right; here it is: you ordered the carriage for eight o’clock?”

“Perfectly.”

“You intend to visit il Colosseo?”

“That is to say the Coliseum?”

“It is exactly the same thing.”

“Be it so.”

“You told your coachman to leave by the Porta del Popolo, go around the walls and re-enter by the Porta San-Giovanni?”

“Those were my own words.”

“Well, that itinerary is impossible.”

“Impossible!”

“Or at least very dangerous.”

“Dangerous! and why?”

“Because of the famous Luigi Vampa.”

“First of all, dear host, what is the famous Luigi Vampa?” asked Albert; “he may be very famous at Rome, but I warn you that he is unknown in Paris.”

“What! you do not know him?”

“I have not that honor.”

“You have never heard his name pronounced?”

“Never.”

“Well, he is a bandit beside whom the Decesaris and the Gasparone are a kind of choirboys.”

“Attention, Albert!” cried Franz, “here at last is a bandit!”

“I warn you, dear host, that I shall not believe a word of what you are going to tell us. That settled between us, speak as much as you wish, I am listening. ‘Once upon a time…’ Well, go on!”

Master Pastrini turned toward Franz, who seemed to him the more reasonable of the two young men. Justice must be rendered to the good man: he had lodged many Frenchmen in his life, but never had he understood a certain side of their spirit.

“Excellency,” he said very gravely, addressing himself, as we have said, to Franz, “if you regard me as a liar, it is useless for me to tell you what I wished to tell you; I can however affirm to you that it was in the interest of Your Excellencies.”

“Albert does not tell you that you are a liar, my dear Monsieur Pastrini,” replied Franz, “he tells you that he will not believe you, that is all. But I, I shall believe you, be tranquil; speak then.”

“However, Excellency, you understand well that if one calls my truthfulness into doubt…”

“My dear,” resumed Franz, “you are more susceptible than Cassandra, who nevertheless was a prophetess, and whom no one listened to; whereas you, at least, are sure of half your audience. Come, sit down, and tell us who this Monsieur Vampa is.”

“I told you, Excellency, he is a bandit, such as we have not seen since the famous Mastrilla.”

“Well, what relation has this bandit with the order I gave my coachman to leave by the Porta del Popolo and re-enter by the Porta San-Giovanni?”

“There is,” answered Master Pastrini, “that you may well leave by the one, but that I doubt you will re-enter by the other.”

“Why is that?” asked Franz.

“Because, night having come, one is no longer safe within fifty paces of the gates.”

“Upon my word?” cried Albert.

“Monsieur le Vicomte,” said Master Pastrini, still wounded to the bottom of his heart by Albert’s doubt upon his truthfulness, “what I say is not for you, it is for your traveling companion, who knows Rome, he, and who knows that one does not jest with these things.”

“My dear,” said Albert, addressing Franz, “here is a ready-made admirable adventure: we stuff our carriage with pistols, blunderbusses and double-barreled guns. Luigi Vampa comes to stop us, we stop him. We bring him back to Rome; we make a gift of him to His Holiness, who asks us what he can do to acknowledge so great a service. Then we simply claim a carriage and two horses from his stables, and we see the carnival in a vehicle; not to mention that probably the Roman people, grateful, crown us at the Capitol and proclaim us, like Curtius and Horatius Cocles, the saviors of the country.”

While Albert was deducing this proposition, Master Pastrini made a face that one would vainly attempt to describe.

“And first,” asked Franz of Albert, “where will you get those pistols, those blunderbusses, those double-barreled guns with which you wish to cram your carriage?”

“The fact is that it will not be from my arsenal,” said he, “for at Terracina they took from me even my clasp-knife; and you?”

“From me, they did the same at Aqua-Pendente.”

“Ah, here! my dear host,” said Albert, lighting his second cigar at the remainder of his first, “do you know that this measure is very convenient for thieves, and that it has all the air of having been taken in half partnership with them?”

No doubt Master Pastrini found the jest compromising, for he answered it only half, and still addressing himself to Franz, as to the only reasonable being with whom he could properly agree.

“Your Excellency knows that it is not the habit to defend oneself when one is attacked by bandits.”

“What!” cried Albert, whose courage revolted at the idea of letting himself be robbed without a word; “what! it is not the habit?”

“No, for any defense would be useless. What would you do against a dozen bandits who come out of a ditch, a hovel or an aqueduct, and cover you all at once with their guns?”

“Well, zounds! I want to get myself killed!” cried Albert.

The innkeeper turned toward Franz with a look that meant: Decidedly, Excellency, your comrade is mad.

“My dear Albert,” resumed Franz, “your answer is sublime, and worth the ‘Let him die’ of old Corneille: only, when Horace answered that, it was a question of the safety of Rome, and the thing was worth the trouble. But as for us, observe that it is simply a caprice to satisfy, and that it would be ridiculous, for a caprice, to risk our lives.”

“Ah! per Bacco!” cried Master Pastrini, “there, that is what I call talking.”

Albert poured himself a glass of lacryma Christi, which he drank in little sips, grumbling unintelligible words.

“Well, Master Pastrini,” resumed Franz, “now that my companion is calmed, and that you have been able to appreciate my peaceful dispositions, now, come, what is this signor Luigi Vampa? Is he shepherd or patrician? is he young or old? is he small or tall? Describe him to us, so that if we meet him by chance in the world, like Jean Sbogar or Lara, we may at least recognize him.”

“You could not address yourself better than to me, Excellency, for exact details, for I knew Luigi Vampa as a child; and, one day when I myself had fallen into his hands, going from Ferentino to Alatri, he remembered, fortunately for me, our former acquaintance; he let me go, not only without making me pay ransom, but even after having made me a gift of a very fine watch and having told me his history.”

“Let us see the watch,” said Albert.

Master Pastrini drew from his fob a magnificent Breguet bearing the name of its maker, the hallmark of Paris and a count’s crown.

“There it is,” he said.

“Pest!” said Albert, “I compliment you on it; I have almost the fellow—” he drew his watch from the pocket of his waistcoat—“and it cost me three thousand francs.”

“Let us hear the history,” said Franz in his turn, drawing up an armchair and making a sign to Master Pastrini to sit down.

“Do Their Excellencies permit?” said the host.

“Pardieu!” said Albert, “you are not a preacher, my dear, to speak standing.”

The hotel-keeper sat down, after making to each of his future auditors a respectful bow, which was intended to indicate that he was ready to give them, concerning Luigi Vampa, the information they asked for.

“Ah, here,” said Franz, stopping Master Pastrini at the moment he opened his mouth, “you say that you knew Luigi Vampa as a child; he is then still a young man?”

“What, a young man! I should think so; he is scarcely twenty-two! Oh! he is a lad who will go far, be tranquil!”

“What do you say to that, Albert? It is fine, at twenty-two, to have already made a reputation,” said Franz.

“Yes, certainly, and, at his age, Alexander, Caesar and Napoleon, who since have made a certain noise in the world, were not so far advanced as he.”

“Thus,” resumed Franz, addressing his host, “the hero whose history we are about to hear is only twenty-two.”

“Scarcely, as I have had the honor to tell you.”

“Is he tall or small?”

“Of middle height: about like His Excellency,” said the host, showing Albert.

“Thanks for the comparison,” said the latter, bowing.

“Go on, Master Pastrini,” resumed Franz, smiling at his friend’s susceptibility. “And to what class of society did he belong?”

“He was a simple little shepherd attached to the farm of the Count of San-Felice, situated between Palestrina and the lake of Gabri. He was born at Pampinara, and had entered the count’s service at the age of five. His father, a shepherd himself at Anagni, had a little flock of his own; and lived on the wool of his sheep and the produce made with the milk of his ewes, which he came to sell at Rome.

“As a child, little Vampa had a strange character. One day, at the age of seven, he had come to the curate of Palestrina, and had begged him to teach him to read. It was a difficult thing; for the young shepherd could not leave his flock. But the good curate went every day to say mass in a poor little village too insignificant to pay a priest, and which, having not even a name, was known by that of dell’Borgo. He offered Luigi to meet him on his road at the hour of his return and thus to give him his lesson, warning him that this lesson would be short and that he should therefore profit by it.

“The child accepted with joy.

“Every day, Luigi led his flock to pasture on the road from Palestrina to the Borgo; every day, at nine o’clock in the morning, the curate passed, the priest and the child sat on the edge of a ditch, and the little shepherd took his lesson in the curate’s breviary.

“At the end of three months, he knew how to read.

“That was not all, he must now learn to write.

“The priest had a writing-master of Rome make three alphabets: one large, one medium, and one fine, and he showed him that by following this alphabet on a slate he could, with the help of an iron point, learn to write.

“The same evening, when the flock had returned to the farm, little Vampa ran to the locksmith of Palestrina, took a large nail, forged it, hammered it, rounded it, and made of it a kind of antique stylus.

“The next day, he had collected a supply of slates and set to work.

“At the end of three months, he knew how to write.

“The curate, astonished at this profound intelligence and touched at this aptitude, made him a gift of several copybooks of paper, a packet of pens and a penknife.

“It was a new study to make, but a study which was nothing beside the first. A week later, he handled the pen as he handled the stylus.

“The curate told this anecdote to the Count of San-Felice, who wished to see the little shepherd, made him read and write before him, ordered his steward to have him eat with the domestics, and gave him two piastres a month.

“With this money, Luigi bought books and pencils.

“Indeed, he had applied to all objects that facility of imitation which he had, and, like Giotto as a child, he drew on his slates his sheep, the trees, the houses.

“Then, with the point of his penknife, he began to carve wood and give it all sorts of forms. It is thus that Pinelli, the popular sculptor, had begun.

“A young girl of six or seven years, that is to say a little younger than Vampa, watched on her side the sheep in a farm neighboring Palestrina; she was an orphan, born at Valmontone, and was called Teresa.

“The two children met, sat near each other, let their flocks mingle and pasture together, talked, laughed and played; then, in the evening, they separated the sheep of the Count of San-Felice from those of the Baron of Cervetri, and the children parted to return to their respective farms, promising to find each other again the next morning.

“The next day they kept their word, and grew thus side by side.

“Vampa attained twelve years, and little Teresa eleven.

“However, their natural instincts developed.

“Beside the taste for the arts which Luigi had pushed as far as he could in isolation, he was sad by fits, ardent by starts, angry by caprice, railing always. None of the young boys of Pampinara, of Palestrina or of Valmontone had been able not only to take any influence over him, but even to become his companion. His wilful temperament, always disposed to exact without ever wishing to yield to any concession, kept from him every friendly movement, every sympathetic demonstration. Teresa alone commanded with a word, a look, a gesture this entire character which bent under the hand of a woman, and which, under that of any man whatsoever, would have stiffened to breaking.

“Teresa was, on the contrary, lively, alert and gay, but excessively coquettish; the two piastres given by the steward of the Count of San-Felice to Luigi, the price of all the little carved works which he sold to the toy-merchants of Rome, passed in earrings of pearls, in necklaces of glass, in gold pins. Thus, thanks to this prodigality of her young friend, Teresa was the prettiest and most elegant peasant girl in the environs of Rome.

“The two children continued to grow, passing all their days together, and giving themselves without struggle to the instincts of their primitive nature. Also, in their conversations, in their wishes, in their dreams, Vampa saw himself always captain of a vessel, general of an army or governor of a province; Teresa saw herself rich, clothed in the finest robes and followed by livery servants, then, when they had passed the whole day embroidering their future with these mad and brilliant arabesques, they separated to lead each his sheep to the fold, and to descend, from the height of their dreams, to the humility of their real position.

“One day, the young shepherd said to the steward of the count that he had seen a wolf come out of the mountains of the Sabina and prowl around his flock. The steward gave him a gun: that is what Vampa wanted.

“This gun happened to be an excellent Brescia barrel, carrying the ball like an English carbine; only one day the count, in killing a wounded fox, had broken the stock and the gun had been thrown aside.

“That was no difficulty for a sculptor like Vampa. He examined the original wood, calculated what he must change in it to bring it to his eye, and made another stock charged with ornaments so marvellous that, had he wished to go sell the wood alone in the city, he would certainly have drawn fifteen or twenty piastres from it.

“But he had no mind to act thus: a gun had long been the dream of the young man. In all countries where independence is substituted for liberty, the first need which every strong heart, every powerful organization, feels, is that of a weapon which assures at once attack and defense, and which, making him who carries it terrible, often makes him feared.

“From that moment, Vampa gave all the instants remaining to him to the exercise of the gun; he bought powder and balls, and everything became a target for him: the trunk of the olive-tree, sad, stunted and grey, which grows on the slope of the mountains of the Sabina; the fox which, in the evening, came out of its burrow to begin its nocturnal hunt, and the eagle which hovered in the air. Soon he became so skilful that Teresa overcame the fear she had at first felt at hearing the report, and amused herself to see her young companion place the ball of his gun where he wished to put it, with as much exactness as if he had pushed it with his hand.

“One evening, a wolf indeed came out of a pine wood near which the two young people had the habit of staying: the wolf had not made ten steps in the open before it was dead.

“Vampa, all proud of this fine shot, loaded it on his shoulders and brought it back to the farm.

“All these details gave Luigi a certain reputation around the farm; the superior man everywhere he is found creates a clientele of admirers. They spoke in the environs of this young shepherd as the most skilful, the strongest and the bravest contadino within ten leagues round; and although on her side Teresa, in a still wider circle, passed for one of the prettiest girls of the Sabina, no one thought of saying a word of love to her, for they knew she was loved by Vampa.

“And yet the two young people had never told each other that they loved. They had grown up side by side like two trees which mingle their roots under the soil, their branches in the air, their perfume in the sky; only their desire to see each other was the same; this desire had become a need, and they understood death better than a separation of a single day.

“Teresa was sixteen and Vampa seventeen.

“About that time, they began to speak much of a band of brigands which was organizing in the Lepini mountains. Brigandage has never been seriously extirpated in the neighborhood of Rome. It lacks chiefs sometimes, but when a chief presents himself, it is rare that he lacks a band.

“The celebrated Cucumetto, tracked in the Abruzzi, driven from the kingdom of Naples, where he had sustained a veritable war, had crossed the Garigliano like Manfred, and had come between Sonnino and Juperno to take refuge on the banks of the Amasine.

“It was he who was occupying himself with reorganizing a troop, and who was following in the traces of Decesaris and Gasparone, whom he hoped soon to surpass. Several young men of Palestrina, of Frascati and of Pampinara disappeared. They were anxious about them at first; then soon it was known that they had gone to join the band of Cucumetto.

“After some time, Cucumetto became the object of general attention. They cited of this chief of bandits traits of extraordinary boldness and revolting brutality.

“One day, he carried off a young girl: she was the daughter of the surveyor of Frosinone. The laws of the bandits are positive: a young girl belongs to him who carries her off first, then the others draw lots for her, and the unhappy creature serves the pleasures of the whole troop until the bandits abandon her or she dies.

“When the parents are rich enough to ransom her, a messenger is sent who treats for the ransom; the head of the prisoner answers for the safety of the emissary. If the ransom is refused, the prisoner is irrevocably condemned.

“The young girl had her lover in Cucumetto’s troop: he was called Carlini.

“In recognizing the young man, she stretched her arms toward him and thought herself saved. But poor Carlini, in recognizing her, felt his heart break, for he suspected well the fate which awaited his mistress.

“However, as he was the favorite of Cucumetto, as he had shared his dangers for three years, as he had saved his life by bringing down with a pistol-shot a carabineer who already had his sabre raised over his head, he hoped that Cucumetto would have some pity on him.

“He took the chief aside, therefore, while the young girl, seated against the trunk of a great pine which rose in the middle of a clearing in the forest, had made a veil of the picturesque head-dress of the Roman peasant women and hid her face from the lustful looks of the bandits.

“There, he told him all, his loves with the prisoner, their vows of fidelity, and how every night, since they had been in the environs, they gave each other rendezvous in a ruin.

“That very evening, Cucumetto had sent Carlini into a neighboring village, he had not been able to be at the rendezvous; but Cucumetto had been there by chance, he said, and it was then that he had carried off the young girl.

“Carlini besought his chief to make an exception in his favor and to respect Rita, telling him that the father was rich and would pay a good ransom.

“Cucumetto appeared to yield to his friend’s prayers, and charged him to find a shepherd who could be sent to Rita’s father at Frosinone.

“Then Carlini approached the young girl all joyous, told her she was saved, and invited her to write her father a letter in which she related what had happened to her, and would announce that her ransom was fixed at three hundred piastres.

“The father was given twelve hours’ delay, that is to say until the next morning at nine o’clock.

“The letter written, Carlini seized it at once and ran into the plain to look for a messenger.

“He found a young shepherd who was folding his flock. The natural messengers of the bandits are the shepherds, who live between the town and the mountain, between savage life and civilized life.

“The young shepherd set off at once, promising to be at Frosinone within an hour.

“Carlini returned all joyous to rejoin his mistress and announce this good news to her.

“He found the troop in the clearing, where it was supping merrily on the provisions which the bandits levied on the peasants as a mere tribute; amid these gay revellers, he sought in vain for Cucumetto and Rita.

“He asked where they were; the bandits answered with a great burst of laughter. A cold sweat ran down Carlini’s brow, and he felt the anguish which seized him by the hair.

“He renewed his question. One of the guests filled a glass of Orvieto wine and handed it to him, saying:

“‘To the health of brave Cucumetto and of fair Rita!’

“At that moment, Carlini thought he heard a cry of a woman. He guessed all. He took the glass, broke it on the face of him who presented it, and sprang in the direction of the cry.

“At the end of a hundred paces, at the turn of a bush, he found Rita fainting between the arms of Cucumetto.

“At sight of Carlini, Cucumetto rose, holding a pistol in each hand.

“The two bandits looked at each other an instant: the one the smile of lust on his lips, the other the pallor of death on his brow.

“One would have thought that something terrible was about to pass between these two men. But little by little Carlini’s features relaxed, his hand, which he had carried to one of the pistols of his belt, fell beside him hanging at his side.

“Rita was lying between them two.

“The moon lighted this scene.

“‘Well,’ said Cucumetto to him, ‘have you done the commission with which you charged yourself?’

“‘Yes, captain,’ answered Carlini, ‘and tomorrow, before nine o’clock, Rita’s father will be here with the money.’

“‘Admirable. Meanwhile, we are going to pass a merry night. This young girl is charming, and you have, in truth, good taste, Master Carlini. Also, as I am not selfish, we are going to return to our comrades and draw lots for who she shall belong to now.’

“‘Thus you are decided to abandon her to the common law?’ asked Carlini.

“‘And why should exception be made in her favor?’

“‘I had thought that at my prayer…’

“‘And what are you more than the others?’

“‘That is just.’

“‘But be tranquil,’ resumed Cucumetto, laughing, ‘a little sooner, a little later, your turn will come.’

“Carlini’s teeth were clenched to breaking.

“‘Come,’ said Cucumetto, making a step toward the revellers, ‘are you coming?’

“‘I follow you…’

“Cucumetto moved away without losing sight of Carlini, for no doubt he feared lest he should strike him from behind. But nothing in the bandit denoted a hostile intention.

“He was standing, his arms crossed, near Rita still fainting.

“For an instant, Cucumetto’s idea was that the young man was going to take her in his arms and flee with her. But it mattered little to him now, he had had of Rita what he wished; and as for the money, three hundred piastres divided among the troop made so poor a sum that he cared for it moderately.

“He continued therefore his road toward the clearing; but, to his great astonishment, Carlini arrived there almost as soon as he.

“‘The drawing! the drawing!’ cried all the bandits at sight of the chief.

“And the eyes of all these men shone with drunkenness and lasciviousness, while the flame of the fire cast on all their persons a reddish light which made them resemble demons.

“What they asked was just; also the chief made with his head a sign announcing that he acquiesced in their demand. They put all the names in a hat, that of Carlini like those of the others, and the youngest of the band drew from the improvised urn a ticket.

“This ticket bore the name of Diavolaccio.

“It was he who had proposed to Carlini the health of the chief, and to whom Carlini had answered by breaking the glass on his face.

“A large wound open from the temple to the mouth, let the blood flow in streams.

“Diavolaccio, seeing himself thus favored by fortune, gave a burst of laughter.

“‘Captain,’ said he, ‘just now Carlini would not drink to your health, propose to him to drink to mine; he will perhaps have more condescension for you than for me.’

“Everyone expected an explosion on the part of Carlini; but to the great astonishment of all, he took a glass with one hand, a flask with the other, then, filling the glass:

“‘To your health, Diavolaccio,’ said he in a perfectly calm voice.

“And he swallowed the contents of the glass without his hand trembling. Then, sitting near the fire:

“‘My share of supper!’ said he; ‘the walk I have just taken has given me an appetite.’

“‘Long live Carlini!’ cried the brigands.

“‘There, that is what I call taking the thing in good fellowship.’

“And all reformed the circle around the fire, while Diavolaccio moved away.

“Carlini ate and drank, as if nothing had happened.

“The bandits looked at him with astonishment, understanding nothing of this impassibility, when they heard behind them resound on the ground a heavy step.

“They turned and perceived Diavolaccio holding the young girl between his arms.

“She had her head thrown back, and her long hair hung to the ground.

“As they entered into the circle of light projected by the fire, one perceived the pallor of the young girl and the pallor of the bandit.

“This apparition had something so strange and so solemn, that everyone rose, except Carlini, who remained seated and continued to drink and eat, as if nothing were passing around him.

“Diavolaccio continued to advance amid the deepest silence, and deposited Rita at the feet of the captain.

“Then everyone could recognize the cause of this pallor of the young girl and of this pallor of the bandit: Rita had a knife thrust up to the handle below the left breast.

“All eyes turned on Carlini: the sheath was empty at his belt.

“‘Ah! ah!’ said the chief, ‘I understand now why Carlini had remained behind.’

“Every savage nature is apt to appreciate a strong action; although perhaps none of the bandits would have done what Carlini had just done, all understood what he had done.

“‘Well,’ said Carlini, rising in his turn and approaching the corpse, his hand on the butt of one of his pistols, ‘is there yet anyone who disputes this woman with me?’

“‘No,’ said the chief, ‘she is yours!’

“Then Carlini took her in his arms in his turn, and bore her out of the circle of light projected by the flame of the fire.

“Cucumetto disposed the sentinels as usual, and the bandits lay down, wrapped in their mantles, around the fire.

“At midnight, the sentinel gave the alarm, and in an instant the chief and his companions were on foot.

“It was Rita’s father, who arrived himself, bearing the ransom of his daughter.

“‘Here,’ said he to Cucumetto, handing him a bag of money, ‘here are three hundred pistoles, give me back my child.’

“But the chief, without taking the money, made him a sign to follow. The old man obeyed; both moved away under the trees, through the branches of which filtered the rays of the moon. At length Cucumetto stopped, extending his hand and showing the old man two persons grouped at the foot of a tree:

“‘See,’ said he to him, ‘ask your daughter of Carlini, it is he who will account to you for her.’

“And he returned toward his companions.

“The old man remained motionless and with fixed eyes. He felt that some unknown, immense, unheard-of misfortune hovered over his head.

“At length, he made a few steps toward the shapeless group of which he could make nothing.

“At the noise he made in advancing toward him, Carlini raised his head, and the forms of the two persons began to appear more distinct to the old man’s eyes.

“A woman was lying on the ground, her head resting on the knees of a seated man who was leaning over her; it was in rising that this man had uncovered the face of the woman whom he held pressed against his breast.

“The old man recognized his daughter, and Carlini recognized the old man.

“‘I was expecting you,’ said the bandit to Rita’s father.

“‘Wretch!’ said the old man, ‘what have you done?’

“And he looked with terror at Rita, pale, motionless, bloody, with a knife in her breast.

“A ray of the moon struck her and lighted her with its wan gleam.

“‘Cucumetto had violated your daughter,’ said the bandit, ‘and, as I loved her, I killed her; for, after him, she was going to serve as a plaything to the whole band.’

“The old man uttered not a word, only he became pale as a spectre.

“‘Now,’ said Carlini, ‘if I was wrong, avenge her.’

“And he tore the knife from the young girl’s breast and, rising, went to offer it with one hand to the old man while with the other he drew aside his jacket and presented his naked breast.

“‘You did well,’ said the old man in a hollow voice. ‘Embrace me, my son.’

“Carlini threw himself sobbing into the arms of his mistress’s father. These were the first tears shed by this man of blood.

“‘Now,’ said the old man to Carlini, ‘help me to bury my daughter.’

“Carlini went to fetch two mattocks, and the father and the lover set about digging the earth at the foot of an oak whose thick branches were to cover the young girl’s tomb.

“When the grave was dug, the father kissed her first, the lover next; then, one taking her by the feet, the other by below the shoulders, they lowered her into the pit.

“Then they knelt on either side and said the prayers for the dead.

“Then, when they had finished, they pushed back the earth on the corpse until the pit was filled.

“Then, extending his hand to him:

“‘I thank you, my son!’ said the old man to Carlini; ‘now, leave me alone.’

“‘But however…’ said the other.

“‘Leave me, I order you.’

“Carlini obeyed, went to rejoin his comrades, wrapped himself in his mantle, and soon appeared as profoundly asleep as the others.

“It had been decided the evening before that they would change camp.

“An hour before day Cucumetto awoke his men and the order was given to depart.

“But Carlini would not quit the forest without knowing what had become of Rita’s father.

“He directed himself toward the spot where he had left him.

“He found the old man hanged to one of the branches of the oak which shaded his daughter’s tomb.

“He then made over the corpse of the one and the grave of the other the oath to avenge them both.

“But he could not keep this oath; for, two days after, in an encounter with the Roman carabineers, Carlini was killed.

“Only, it was wondered that, facing the enemy, he had received a ball between the two shoulders.

“The wonder ceased when one of the bandits had made his comrades remark that Cucumetto was placed ten paces behind Carlini when Carlini fell.

“The morning of the departure from the forest of Frosinone, he had followed Carlini in the darkness, had heard the oath he had made, and, as a man of precaution, he had taken the advance.

“They still related of this terrible chief of bandits ten other stories not less curious than this one.

“Thus, from Fondi to Perugia, everyone trembled at the mere name of Cucumetto.

“These stories had often been the subject of the conversations of Luigi and Teresa.

“The young girl trembled greatly at all these tales; but Vampa reassured her with a smile, striking his good gun, which carried the ball so well; then, if she were not reassured, he showed her at a hundred paces some crow perched on a dead branch, aimed at it, pulled the trigger, and the animal, struck, fell at the foot of the tree.

“Nevertheless, time was slipping by: the two young people had agreed that they would marry when they had, Vampa twenty years, and Teresa nineteen.

“They were both orphans; they had permission to ask of none but their master; they had asked and obtained it.

“One day as they were talking of their project of the future, they heard two or three gunshots; then suddenly a man came out of the wood near which the two young people had the habit of pasturing their flocks, and ran toward them.

“Arrived within call:

“‘I am pursued!’ he cried to them; ‘can you hide me?’

“The two young people recognized well that this fugitive must be some bandit; but there is between the peasant and the Roman bandit an innate sympathy which makes the first always ready to render service to the second.

“Vampa, without saying anything, ran therefore to the stone which stopped up the entrance of their grotto, uncovered this entrance by drawing the stone to him, made a sign to the fugitive to take refuge in this asylum unknown to all, pushed the stone back over him and returned to sit near Teresa.

“Almost immediately, four carabineers on horseback appeared at the edge of the wood; three seemed to be in search of the fugitive, the fourth dragged by the neck a prisoner bandit.

“The three carabineers explored the country with a glance, perceived the two young people, ran to them at a gallop, and questioned them.

“They had seen nothing.

“‘That is unfortunate,’ said the brigadier, ‘for the one we seek is the chief.’

“‘Cucumetto?’ could not help crying out together Luigi and Teresa.

“‘Yes,’ answered the brigadier; ‘and as his head is priced at a thousand Roman crowns, there would have been five hundred for you if you had helped us to take him.’

“The two young people exchanged a look. The brigadier had an instant of hope. Five hundred Roman crowns make three thousand francs, and three thousand francs are a fortune for two poor orphans who are about to marry.

“‘Yes, it is unfortunate,’ said Vampa, ‘but we have not seen him.’

“Then the carabineers beat the country in different directions, but uselessly.

“Then, successively, they disappeared.

“Then Vampa went to draw the stone, and Cucumetto came out.

“He had seen, through the chinks of the granite door, the two young people talking with the carabineers; he had suspected the subject of their conversation, he had read on the face of Luigi and Teresa the unshakable resolution not to deliver him, and drew from his pocket a purse full of gold and offered it to them.

“But Vampa raised his head with pride; as for Teresa, her eyes shone in thinking of all she could buy of rich jewels and fine clothes with this purse full of gold.

“Cucumetto was a very able Satan: he had taken the form of a bandit instead of that of a serpent; he surprised this look, recognized in Teresa a worthy daughter of Eve, and re-entered the forest turning several times under pretext of saluting his liberators.

“Several days passed without their seeing Cucumetto again, without hearing him spoken of again.

“The time of the carnival approached. The Count of San-Felice announced a great masked ball where all that Rome had of most elegant was invited.

“Teresa had great desire to see this ball. Luigi asked his protector the steward for permission for her and for him to attend it hidden among the servants of the house. This permission was granted him.

“This ball was given especially by the count to please his daughter Carmela, whom he adored.

“Carmela was just of the age and the figure of Teresa, and Teresa was at least as beautiful as Carmela.

“The evening of the ball, Teresa put on her finest toilette, her richest pins, her most brilliant glass beads. She had the costume of the women of Frascati.

“Luigi had the so picturesque habit of the Roman peasant on feast days.

“Both mingled, as had been permitted, with the servants and the peasants.

“The fête was magnificent. Not only was the villa brilliantly illuminated, but thousands of colored lanterns were suspended from the trees of the garden. Thus soon the palace overflowed onto the terraces and the terraces into the walks.

“At every crossroads there was an orchestra, buffets and refreshments; the walkers stopped, quadrilles formed and they danced where it pleased to dance.

“Carmela was clothed as a woman of Sonnino. She had her cap all embroidered with pearls, the pins of her hair were of gold and diamonds, her girdle was of Turkish silk with large flowered brocade, her overdress and her petticoat were of cashmere, her apron was of Indian muslin; the buttons of her bodice were so many precious stones.

“Two other of her companions were clothed, one as a woman of Nettuno, the other as a woman of the Riccia.

“Four young men of the richest and noblest families of Rome accompanied them with that Italian freedom which has its equal in no other country of the world: they were clothed on their side as peasants of Albano, of Velletri, of Civita-Castellana and of Sora.

“It goes without saying that these peasant costumes, like those of the peasant women, were resplendent with gold and precious stones.

“It came into Carmela’s mind to make a uniform quadrille, only there lacked a woman.

“Carmela looked all around her, not one of her guests had a costume analogous to hers and to those of her companions.

“The Count San-Felice showed her, amid the peasant women, Teresa leaning on Luigi’s arm.

“‘Do you permit it, my father?’ said Carmela.

“‘Certainly,’ answered the count, ‘are we not in carnival!’

“Carmela leaned toward a young man who accompanied her talking, and said him a few words all the while showing him the young girl with her finger.

“The young man followed with his eyes the pretty hand which served him as conductress, made a gesture of obedience and came to invite Teresa to figure in the quadrille directed by the count’s daughter.

“Teresa felt like a flame which passed over her face. She questioned with a look Luigi: there was no means of refusing. Luigi let slowly glide the arm of Teresa, which he held under his own, and Teresa, moving away conducted by her elegant cavalier, came to take, all trembling, her place in the aristocratic quadrille.

“Certainly, to the eyes of an artist, the exact and severe costume of Teresa would have had a very different character from that of Carmela and her companions, but Teresa was a frivolous and coquettish young girl; the embroideries of the muslin, the palms of the girdle, the splendor of the cashmere dazzled her, the reflection of the sapphires and diamonds made her mad.

“For his part Luigi felt born in him a unknown sentiment: it was like a dull pain which bit him first at the heart, and from there, all trembling, ran through his veins and seized all his body; he followed with his eyes the slightest movements of Teresa and of her cavalier; when their hands touched he felt like giddinesses, his arteries beat violently, and it would have said that the sound of a bell vibrated at his ears. When they spoke to each other, although Teresa listened, timid and with lowered eyes, to the discourses of her cavalier, as Luigi read in the ardent eyes of the handsome young man that these discourses were praises, it seemed to him that the earth turned under him and that all the voices of hell breathed to him ideas of murder and assassination. Then, fearing to let himself be carried away by his folly, he clung with one hand to the trellis against which he was standing, and with the other he pressed with a convulsive movement the carved-hilt dagger which was passed in his belt and which, without perceiving it, he sometimes drew almost entirely from the scabbard.

“Luigi was jealous! he felt that, carried away by her coquettish and proud nature, Teresa could escape him.

“And yet the young peasant, timid and almost frightened at first, had soon recovered herself. We have said that Teresa was beautiful. That is not all, Teresa was graceful, of that savage grace far more powerful than our mincing and affected grace.

“She had almost the honors of the quadrille, and if she was envious of the daughter of the Count of San-Felice, we should not dare to say that Carmela was not jealous of her.

“Also it was with many compliments that her handsome cavalier reconducted her to the place where he had taken her, and where Luigi awaited her.

“Two or three times, during the contra-dance, the young girl had cast a look upon him, and each time she had seen him pale and his features contracted. Once even the blade of his knife, half drawn from its sheath, had dazzled her eyes like a sinister flash.

“It was therefore almost trembling that she took again the arm of her lover.

“The quadrille had had the greatest success, and it was evident that it was a question of making a second edition; Carmela alone opposed it; but the Count of San-Felice prayed his daughter so tenderly, that she ended by consenting.

“Immediately one of the cavaliers advanced to invite Teresa, without whom it was impossible that the contra-dance should take place; but the young girl had already disappeared.

“Indeed, Luigi had not felt himself the strength to support a second trial; and, half by persuasion, half by force, he had drawn Teresa toward another point of the garden. Teresa had yielded much against her will; but she had seen by the upset face of the young man, she understood by his silence interspersed with nervous starts, that something strange was passing in him. She herself was not exempt from an interior agitation, and without however having done anything wrong, she understood that Luigi was in the right to make her reproaches: on what? she ignored; but she felt no less that these reproaches would be merited.

“However, to the great astonishment of Teresa, Luigi remained mute, and not a word opened his lips during all the rest of the evening. Only, when the cold of the night had chased the guests from the gardens and the doors of the villa had closed upon them for an interior fête, he reconducted Teresa; then, as she was about to re-enter her house:

“‘Teresa,’ said he, ‘what were you thinking of when you were dancing opposite the young Countess of San-Felice?’

“‘I was thinking,’ answered the young girl in all the frankness of her soul, ‘that I would give half my life to have a costume like the one she wore.’

“‘And what did your cavalier say to you?’

“‘He told me that it would depend only on me to have it, and that I had but a word to say for that.’

“‘He was right,’ answered Luigi. ‘Do you desire it as ardently as you say?’

“‘Yes.’

“‘Well, you shall have it!’

“The young girl, astonished, raised her head to question him; but his face was so sombre and so terrible that the word froze on her lips.

“Moreover, in saying these words, Luigi had moved away.

“Teresa followed him with her eyes into the night as long as she could perceive him. Then, when he had disappeared, she re-entered her house sighing.

“That same night, there happened a great event by the imprudence no doubt of some domestic who had neglected to extinguish the lights; fire caught the villa San-Felice, just in the dependencies of the apartment of the beautiful Carmela. Awakened in the middle of the night by the gleam of the flames, she had jumped from her bed, wrapped herself in her dressing-gown, and had tried to flee by the door; but the corridor through which one must pass was already the prey of the fire. Then she had re-entered her chamber, calling loudly for help, when suddenly her window, situated twenty feet from the ground, had opened; a young peasant had sprung into the apartment, had taken her in his arms, and, with a superhuman force and address, had transported her onto the grass of the lawn, where she had fainted. When she had recovered her senses, her father was before her. All the servants surrounded her, bearing her aid. A whole wing of the villa was burned; but what mattered it, since Carmela was safe and sound.

“They sought her liberator everywhere, but her liberator did not reappear; they asked him of everyone, but no one had seen him. As for Carmela, she was so troubled that she had not recognized him.

“Moreover, as the count was immensely rich, apart from the danger Carmela had run, and which seemed to her, by the miraculous manner in which she had escaped it, rather a new favor of Providence than a real misfortune, the loss caused by the flames was little to him.

“The next day, at the habitual hour, the two young people found each other again at the edge of the forest. Luigi had arrived first. He came toward the young girl with great gaiety; he seemed to have completely forgotten the scene of the eve. Teresa was visibly pensive, but seeing Luigi thus disposed, she affected on her side the laughing carelessness which was the foundation of her character when no passion came to trouble it.

“Luigi took Teresa’s arm under his own, and conducted her to the door of the grotto. There he stopped. The young girl, understanding that there was something extraordinary, looked at him fixedly.

“‘Teresa,’ said Luigi, ‘yesterday evening you told me that you would give the whole world to have a costume like the count’s daughter?’

“‘Yes,’ said Teresa, with astonishment, ‘but I was mad to make such a wish.’

“‘And I, I answered you: Very well, you shall have it.’

“‘Yes,’ resumed the young girl, whose astonishment increased at each word of Luigi; ‘but you answered that no doubt to please me.’

“‘I have never promised you anything that I have not given you, Teresa,’ said Luigi proudly; ‘enter the grotto and dress yourself.’

“At these words, he drew the stone, and showed Teresa the grotto lighted by two candles which burned on either side of a magnificent mirror; on the rustic table, made by Luigi, were spread the pearl necklace and the diamond pins; on a chair near by was deposited the rest of the costume.

“Teresa uttered a cry of joy, and, without inquiring whence came this costume, without taking time to thank Luigi, she sprang into the grotto transformed into a dressing-room.

“Behind her Luigi pushed back the stone, for he had just perceived, on the crest of a little hill which prevented that from the place where he was one could see Palestrina, a traveler on horseback, who stopped an instant as uncertain of his road, standing out against the azure of the sky with that clearness of outline peculiar to the distances of southern countries.

“At sight of Luigi, the traveler put his horse to a gallop, and came to him.

“Luigi had not been mistaken; the traveler, who was going from Palestrina to Tivoli, was in doubt of his road.

“The young man indicated it to him; but, as at a quarter of a mile from there the road divided into three paths, and arrived at these three paths the traveler could again lose himself, he prayed Luigi to serve him as guide.

“Luigi untied his mantle and laid it on the ground, threw his carbine on his shoulder, and, thus freed from the heavy garment, walked before the traveler with that rapid step of the mountaineer which the step of a horse scarcely manages to follow.

“In ten minutes, Luigi and the traveler were at the kind of crossroads indicated by the young shepherd.

“Arrived there, with a majestic gesture like that of an emperor, he extended his hand toward that of the three roads which the traveler should follow:

“‘There is your road,’ said he, ‘Excellency, you have no longer to mistake now.’

“‘And you, there is your reward,’ said the traveler, offering the young shepherd some pieces of small money.

“‘Thanks,’ said Luigi, withdrawing his hand; ‘I render a service, I do not sell it.’

“‘But,’ said the traveler, who appeared besides accustomed to this difference between the servility of the man of the cities and the pride of the countryman, ‘if you refuse a salary, you accept at least a gift.’

“‘Ah! yes, that is another thing.’

“‘Well,’ said the traveler, ‘take these two sequins of Venice, and give them to your fiancée to make a pair of earrings.’

“‘And you, then, take this dagger,’ said the young shepherd, ‘you would not find one whose handle was better sculpted from Albano to Civita-Castellana.’

“‘I accept,’ said the traveler; ‘but then, it is I who am your obliged, for this dagger is worth more than two sequins.’

“‘For a merchant perhaps, but for me, who carved it myself, it is scarcely worth a piastre.’

“‘What is your name?’ asked the traveler.

“‘Luigi Vampa,’ answered the shepherd with the same air he would have answered: Alexander, king of Macedon. ‘And you?’

“‘I,’ said the traveler, ‘I call myself Sinbad the Sailor.’

Franz d’Épinay uttered a cry of surprise.

“Sinbad the Sailor!” said he.

“Yes,” resumed the narrator, “it is the name that the traveler gave to Vampa as being his own.

“Well, but, what have you to say against that name?” interrupted Albert; “it is a very fine name, and the adventures of the patron of this gentleman have, I must confess, greatly amused me in my youth.”

Franz did not insist further. This name of Sinbad the Sailor, as one well understands, had awakened in him a whole world of memories, as the day before had that of the Count of Monte-Cristo.

“Continue,” he said to the host.

“Vampa put disdainfully the two sequins in his pocket, and slowly retook the road by which he had come. Arrived at two or three hundred paces from the grotto, he thought he heard a cry.

“He stopped, listening from what side came this cry.

“At the end of a second, he heard his name pronounced distinctly.

“The call came from the side of the grotto.

“He bounded like a chamois, arming his gun while running, and arrived in less than a minute at the top of the hill opposite to that where he had perceived the traveler.

“There, the cries: Help! came to him more distinct.

“He threw his eyes on the space he dominated; a man was carrying off Teresa, like the centaur Nessus Dejanira.

“This man, who was directing himself toward the wood, was already at three quarters of the way from the grotto to the forest.

“Vampa measured the interval; this man had at least two hundred paces advance on him, there was no chance of overtaking him before he had gained the wood.

“The young shepherd stopped as if his feet had taken root. He rested the stock of his gun on his shoulder, slowly raised the barrel in the direction of the ravisher, followed him a second in his course and fired.

“The ravisher stopped short; his knees bent and he fell dragging Teresa in his fall.

“But Teresa rose immediately; as for the fugitive, he remained lying, struggling in the convulsions of agony.

“Vampa sprang at once toward Teresa, for at ten paces from the dying man his legs had failed him in their turn, and she had fallen back on her knees: the young man had that terrible fear that the ball which had just struck down his enemy had at the same time wounded his fiancée.

“Happily it was not so, it was terror alone which had paralyzed Teresa’s forces. When Luigi was well assured that she was safe and sound, he turned toward the wounded man.

“He had just expired, his fists closed, his mouth contracted by pain, and his hair bristling under the sweat of agony.

“His eyes had remained open and threatening.

“Vampa approached the corpse, and recognized Cucumetto.

“Since the day when the bandit had been saved by the two young people, he had become enamored of Teresa and had sworn that the young girl should be his. Since that day he had watched her; and, profiting by the moment when her lover had left her alone to indicate the road to the traveler, he had carried her off and believed her already his, when the ball of Vampa, guided by the infallible aim of the young shepherd, had traversed his heart.

“Vampa looked at him an instant without the least emotion betraying itself on his face, while on the contrary Teresa, still all trembling, did not dare to approach the dead bandit but by little steps, and threw hesitatingly a glance at the corpse over the shoulder of her lover.

“At the end of an instant, Vampa turned toward his mistress:

“‘Ah! ah!’ said he, ‘that is well, you are dressed; it is my turn to make my toilette.’

“Indeed, Teresa was clothed from head to foot in the costume of the daughter of the Count of San-Felice.

“Vampa took the body of Cucumetto between his arms, carried it into the grotto, while in his turn Teresa remained outside.

“If a second traveler had then passed, he would have seen a strange thing: it was a shepherdess guarding her sheep with a cashmere dress, earrings and a pearl necklace, diamond pins and buttons of sapphires, emeralds and rubies.

“No doubt, he would have believed himself returned to the times of Florian, and would have affirmed, on returning to Paris, that he had met the shepherdess of the Alps seated at the foot of the Sabine mountains.

“At the end of a quarter of an hour, Vampa came out in his turn from the grotto. His costume was not less elegant, in its kind, than that of Teresa.

“He had a grenadine velvet jacket with chiselled gold buttons, a silk waistcoat all covered with embroideries, a Roman scarf knotted around the neck, a cartridge-box all worked with gold and red and green silk; sky-blue velvet breeches attached below the knee by diamond buckles, roebuck gaiters variegated with a thousand arabesques, and a hat where floated ribbons of all colors; two watches hung at his belt, and a magnificent dagger was passed in his cartridge-box.

“Teresa uttered a cry of admiration. Vampa, under this habit, resembled a painting of Leopold Robert or of Schnetz.

“He had put on the complete costume of Cucumetto.

“The young man perceived the effect he produced on his fiancée, and a smile of pride passed over his mouth.

“‘Now,’ said he to Teresa, ‘are you ready to share my fortune whatever it may be?’

“‘Oh yes!’ cried the young girl with enthusiasm.

“‘To follow me everywhere I shall go?’

“‘To the end of the world.’

“‘Then, take my arm and let us depart, for we have no time to lose.’

“The young girl passed her arm under that of her lover, without even asking him where he was conducting her; for, at this moment, he seemed to her beautiful, proud and powerful as a god.

“And both advanced into the forest, of which at the end of some minutes they had crossed the edge.

“It goes without saying that all the paths of the mountain were known to Vampa; he advanced therefore in the forest without hesitating a single instant, although there was no beaten road, but only recognizing the route he should follow by the sole inspection of the trees and the bushes; they marched thus about an hour and a half.

“At the end of this time, they had arrived at the most thick part of the wood. A torrent whose bed was dry led into a deep gorge. Vampa took this strange road, which, enclosed between two banks and darkened by the thick shadow of the pines, seemed, less the easy descent, that path of Avernus of which Virgil speaks.

“Teresa, become timid again at the aspect of this wild and desert place, pressed against her guide, without saying a word; but as she saw him always march with an equal step, as a profound calm radiated on his face, she herself had the force to dissimulate her emotion.

“Suddenly, at ten paces from them, a man seemed to detach himself from a tree behind which he was hidden, and covered Vampa with his gun:

“‘Not a step further!’ cried he, ‘or you are dead.’

“‘Come now,’ said Vampa, raising his hand with a gesture of contempt; while Teresa, no longer dissimulating her terror, pressed against him, ‘do wolves tear each other apart!’

“‘Who are you?’ asked the sentinel.

“‘I am Luigi Vampa, the shepherd of the farm of San-Felice.’

“‘What do you want?’

“‘I want to speak to your companions who are at the clearing of Rocca Bianca.’

“‘Then, follow me,’ said the sentinel, ‘or rather, since you know where that is, march in front.’

“Vampa smiled with an air of contempt at this precaution of the bandit, passed in front with Teresa and continued his road with the same firm and tranquil step which had conducted him thither.

“At the end of five minutes, the bandit made them a sign to stop.

“The two young people obeyed.

“The bandit imitated three times the cry of the crow.

“A croak answered this triple call.

“‘That is well,’ said the bandit. ‘Now you can continue your road.’

“Luigi and Teresa set out again.

“But as they advanced, Teresa, trembling, pressed against her lover; indeed, through the trees, one saw appear arms and glitter gun-barrels.

“The clearing of Rocca Bianca was at the summit of a little mountain which formerly no doubt had been a volcano, volcano extinct before Remus and Romulus had deserted Alba to come build Rome.

“Teresa and Luigi attained the summit and found themselves at the same instant face to face with some twenty bandits.

“‘Here is a young man who seeks you and desires to speak to you,’ said the sentinel.

“‘And what does he wish to tell us?’ asked he who, in the absence of the chief, did the interim of captain.

“‘I wish to say that I am bored with the trade of shepherd,’ said Vampa.

“‘Ah! I understand,’ said the lieutenant, ‘and you come to ask to be admitted into our ranks?’

“‘Welcome he be!’ cried several bandits of Ferrusino, of Pampinara and of Anagni, who had recognized Luigi Vampa.

“‘Yes, only I come to ask you another thing than to be your companion.’

“‘And what do you come to ask us?’ said the bandits with astonishment.

“‘I come to ask to be your captain,’ said the young man.

“The bandits burst into laughter.

“‘And what have you done to aspire to that honor?’ asked the lieutenant.

“‘I have killed your chief Cucumetto, of whom here is the spoil,’ said Luigi, ‘and I set fire to the villa of San-Felice to give a wedding-dress to my fiancée.’

“An hour later, Luigi Vampa was elected captain in place of Cucumetto.

“Well, my dear Albert,” said Franz, turning toward his friend, “what do you think now of the citizen Luigi Vampa?”

“I say that he is a myth,” answered Albert, “and that he never existed.”

“What is a myth?” asked Pastrini.

“It would be too long to explain to you, dear host,” answered Franz. “And you say then that Master Vampa exercises at this moment his profession in the environs of Rome?”

“And with a boldness of which never bandit before him had given the example.”

“The police has vainly attempted to seize him, then?”

“What would you have! he is in accord at once with the shepherds of the plain, the fishermen of the Tiber and the smugglers of the coast. He is sought in the mountain, he is on the river; he is pursued on the river, he gains the open sea; then suddenly, when he is believed refuge in the island of Giglio, of Guanouti or of Monte-Cristo, he is seen to reappear at Albano, at Tivoli or at the Riccia.

“And what is his manner of proceeding toward travelers?”

“Ah! my God! it is very simple. According to the distance one is from the city, he gives them eight hours, twelve hours, a day, to pay their ransom; then, this time elapsed, he grants an hour of grace. At the sixtieth minute of this hour, if he has not the money, he blows out the prisoner’s brains with a pistol-shot, or plants his dagger in his heart, and all is said.

“Well, Albert,” asked Franz of his companion, “are you still disposed to go to the Coliseum by the outer boulevards?”

“Perfectly,” said Albert, “if the road is more picturesque.”

At this moment, nine o’clock struck, the door opened and our coachman appeared.

“Excellencies,” said he, “the carriage awaits you.”

“Well,” said Franz, “in that case, to the Coliseum!”

“By the Porta del Popolo, Excellencies, or by the streets?”

“By the streets, zounds! by the streets!” cried Franz.

“Ah! my dear!” said Albert, rising in his turn and lighting his third cigar, “truly, I thought you braver than that.”

Thereupon, the two young men descended the staircase and got into the carriage.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”