“The road is infested with banditti,” growled out the padre.
“Banditti!” said Norwood, contemptuously. But whether the sneer was intended for the cut-throats' courage, or the folly of men who would expect any booty from a priest, is hard to say; clearly the padre took it in the latter sense, for he rejoined,——
“Even so, Milordo. When I was curé of Bergamo, they stopped me one night on the Lecco road. A bishop was on a visit with me, and I had gone up to Milan to procure some fish for our Friday's dinner. Oimè! what a turbot it was, and how deliciously it looked at the bottom of the calessino, with the lobsters keeping guard at either side of it, and a small basket of Genoa oysters,—those rock beauties that melt in the mouth like a ripe strawberry! There they were, and I had fallen asleep, and was dreaming pleasantly. I thought I saw St Cecilia dressing 'filets de sole aux fines herbes,' and that she was asking me for sweet marjoram, when suddenly I felt a sharp stick, as it were, in my side; and starting up, I felt the point—the very point—of a thin stiletto between my ribs.
“'Scusi, padre mio,' said a whining voice, and a great black-bearded rascal touched his cap to me with one hand, while with the other he held the dagger close to my side, a comrade all the time covering me with a blunderbuss on the opposite side of the cart,—'scusi, padre mio, but we want your pursel' 'Maladetto sia—' 'Don't curse,' said he, beggingly,—'don't curse, padre, we shall only have to spend more money in masses; but be quick, out with the “quattrini.”'
“'I have nothing but the Church fund for the poor.' said I, angrily.
“'We are the poor, holy father,' whined the rogue.
“'I mean the poor who hate to do evil,' said I.
“'It grieves us to the soul when we are driven to it!' sighed the scoundrel; and he gave me a gentle touch with the point of the stiletto. Dark as it was, I could see the wretch grin as I screamed out.
“'Be quick,' growled out the other, roughly, as he brought the wide mouth of the trombone close to my face. There was no help for it I had to give up my little leathern pouch with all my quarter's gatherings. Many a warning did I give the villains of the ill-luck that followed sacrilege,—how palsies and blindness and lameness came upon the limbs of those who robbed the Church. They went on counting the coins without so much as minding me. At last, when they had fairly divided the booty, the first fellow said, 'One favor more, holy father, before we part.'
“'Would you take my coat or my cassock?' said I, indignantly.