“Certainly not, Alice, after what Mr. Darner has said. Tony would seem to have thrown down a sort of defiance to us all. We must accept him with his belongings, or do without him.”
“He shall have me on his own terms,” said Skeffy. “He is a noble savage, and I love him with all my heart.”
“And you will know his rag friend?” asked Lady Lyle.
“Ay, that will I; and an Irish creature, too, that he calls Rory,—a fellow of six feet four, with a voice like an enraged bull and a hand as wide as one of these flags!”
“It is Damon and Pythias over again, I declare!” said Lady Lyle. “Where did he pick up his monster?”
“They met by chance in England, and, equally by chance, came together to Italy, and Tony persuaded him to accompany him and join Garibaldi. The worthy Irishman, who loved fighting, and was not very particular as to the cause, agreed; and though he had originally come abroad to serve in the Pope's army, some offence they had given him made him desert, and he was well pleased not to return home without, as he said, 'batin' somebody.' It was in this way he became a Garibaldian. The fellow, it seems, fought like a lion; he has been five times wounded, and was left for dead on the field; but he bears a charm which he knows will always protect him.”
“A charm,—what is the charm?”
“A medallion of the Pope, which he wears around his neck, and always kisses devoutly before he goes into battle.”
“The Pope's image is a strange emblem for a Garibaldian, surely,” said Sir Arthur, laughing.
“Master Rory thinks it will dignify any cause; and as he never knew what or for whom he was fighting, this small bit of copper saved him a world of trouble and casuistry; and so in the name of the Holy Father he has broken no end of Neapolitan skulls.”