Even the comfort of silence was soon taken from the prisoner. Before many minutes had elapsed, a wild uproar of voices announced the approach of the band. One by one the robbers emerged from the low passage which united the outer and inner caves, some bearing spoil, and some bearing torches, which threw a wild, red glare on their dark faces and picturesque dress. Horace counted eight bandits, including Enrico. The men sat noisily down at the table. Matteo and some others had their seats near the wall, and were so immediately under Horace that he could not see them, without stretching his head so far forward that he would himself have been exposed to the observation of the robbers, which he anxiously desired to avoid; but while remaining under cover of the darkness of his recess, Horace had full view of Enrico and three of his companions, who sat opposite to their chief.
I shall not enter into details of what—with disgust and horror—Horace saw and heard on that night; the oaths, the tales, the songs of the coarsest description, the sounds of wild revel, the burst of laughter strangely echoing through the recesses of the vaulted cave, till it seemed as though fields unseen shouted and laughed again. Enrico, laying aside his former manner, appeared to be the gayest of the gay, plunging into the torrent of unholy mirth as though he sought to drown all memory and all remorse.
Horace tried to shut out from his own ears the sounds of profane merriment, but he tried in vain. It seemed to his loathing mind that if one black spot were to be found on earth, where evil, unmixed evil, reigned triumphant, where faith was quite shut out, where heavenly hope could not come—that spot was the robbers' cave in the depth of the Calabrian mountain!
[CHAPTER VII.]
MUSIC AND MADNESS.
"Ha! The Rossignol come at last!" shouted Beppo, as a low, clear whistle was heard in the dark passage.
Horace looked down eagerly, and saw the slight form of Raphael, as he came forth from the gloom, bearing his instrument of music.
The young Calabrian looked exceedingly weary. He made a slight inclination of the head on entering towards the place where Horace knew that the chief was; he then laid his guitar against the rocky wall and sat down on a vacant seat beside his brother Enrico.
"What news of Otto?" cried Matteo, whose voice was easily recognized amongst the rest by its peculiar harshness.
"I could gain no tidings beyond those which have already reached you," replied Raphael, in low, rich tones, which formed as strong a contrast to the discordant sounds which had lately prevailed, as his appearance did to that of his companions. "He was as you know, conveyed by a strong military escort towards Staiti; thence to be taken to Reggio. He had not been able to communicate with any one at the inn, access to him being strictly forbidden by the officer in charge."