"That is for me to decide, and not for you," said the young Englishman with hauteur.
"You can have excellent accommodation here—good beds, good fare—what more can the signori require?" said the one-eyed host, pointing towards the inn with a peculiar and stealthy expression in his disagreeable face, which confirmed Horace in his resolution to depart.
"Jacomo, harness the horses, and directly!" he exclaimed. "If there be any delay, not an extra carlino (a small coin) shall you have at the end of the Journey."
The driver, with an exclamation directed to his patron saint and some mutterings which Horace did not understand, began making preparations to obey, moving his lazy limbs more leisurely than suited the impatience of his employer. The host, shrugging his shoulders, went into the inn. As Horace was about to follow him thither, the improvisatore, who had been standing under the shadow of a neighboring tree unperceived by the youth, came forward and crossed over between him and the door, not looking at Horace, nor appearing to observe him, but as he passed close in front of him, dropping the words "Do not go," in a low but earnest tone.
Horace glanced in surprise after the speaker; startled by so strange a warning from the last person whom he should have expected to give one. He would have liked to have questioned Raphael, but the improvisatore had already disappeared.
"I wonder if it be wise to start," thought Horace, whose resolution for the first time began to waver; "yet I have no reason to trust this stranger, who seems to bear an evil character, even amongst the people of this place."
"The signor has changed his mind?" inquired Jacomo with a grin—the man having probably detected a look of indecision upon the face of young Cleveland.
This way of putting the question fixed the determination of Horace, who secretly prided himself upon what he thought strength and decision of character. "I never change my mind," he said haughtily; "I shall be ready to start in ten minutes. Let me then find the carriage at the door, or you shall have reason to repent of the delay."
In about a quarter of an hour the vehicle stood ready in front of the inn. The one-eyed man, who seemed to combine in himself the offices of landlord and ostler, was there to see his guests depart. Giuseppina was at the door, and about half-a-dozen barefooted brown urchins, crowded together like bees to view the strangers enter the carriage, as they had stared a few hours before at the soldiers bearing the bandit away. Raphael stood with folded arms near the heads of the horses. He exchanged words with no one, nor seemed to take notice of the whispered remarks of the children who glanced at him ever and anon.
"The soldiers had him once," said one boy, pointing to the improvisatore; "did they tie his arms behind him? I wonder whether he has the marks on his wrists."