It was late one evening in the summer of 171-, that a party of wild young students at law in the University of Padua were at supper in the saloon of a restaurateur of that city. The revelry had been prolonged even beyond the usual time; much wine had been drunk; and the harmony and good feeling that generally prevailed during their convivial meetings had been interrupted by furious altercation between two of their number. As is almost always the case, the rest took sides with one or other of the disputants; all rose from table; high words were exchanged, and a scene of confusion and tumult was likely to ensue, when the offenders were imperiously called to order by one of their number. He was evidently young; but his slender limbs were firmly knit, and his form, though slight, so well proportioned as to give promise both of activity and strength beyond his years.
“For shame!” he cried, angrily, after producing a momentary silence by a vigorous thump on the table; “are you but a set of bullies, that you stand here pitching hard words at each other, and calling all the neighborhood to see how valiant we can be with our tongues? Fetch me him that can swear loudest, and give us space for our swords!”
Here the clamor was redoubled by all at once explaining, and contradicting each other.
The first speaker struck the table again till all the glasses rang.
“Have done,” he cried, “with this disgraceful uproar, or San Marco! I will fight you all myself—one by one!”
This threat was received with cries of “Not me—Giuseppe!” and after a few moments, the two disputants stood forth, separated from their companions. A space was speedily cleared for the combat.
The combatants needed no urging; but scarcely was the clashing of their swords heard, when Pedrillo, the restaurateur, ran in, followed by his servants, and with a face pale with terror protested against his house being made the scene of riot and bloodshed. It would be his ruin, he averred; he should be indicted by the civil authorities; he should be banished the country; he could never again show his face in Padua! If young gentlemen would kill one another there were places enough for such a purpose besides a reputable establishment like his; and with ludicrous rapidity enumerating the localities resorted to by duellists of the city, he besought them with piteous entreaties to transfer themselves elsewhere, offering even to remain minus the expenses of their supper. But Pedrillo’s solicitations had little effect on the wilful young men, till backed by threats that he would call the guard. Most of them had known what it was to fall into the hands of the police for midnight disturbances, and duels were favorite pastimes among the students of the University; so that immediately on the disappearance of Pedrillo’s servant, the whole party precipitately left the house. First, however, Giuseppe, the one who had recommended a resort to the duel, laid the amount of the reckoning on the table.
As the party turned the corner of a narrow street, they came close upon a carriage, attended by several servants. At this sudden encounter with so many half intoxicated and noisy students, recognised by their dress and well known to be always ready for any deed of mischief, the attendants fled in every direction. The horses caught the alarm, and, wild with fright, plunged, reared, and set off at full speed down the street. A shout of laughter from the revellers, who thought it capital sport to see the dismay created at sight of them, greeted the ears of the terrified inmates of the carriage. But Giuseppe sprang forward, and at the peril of his life, threw himself upon the horses’ necks, pulling the bits with such violence as to check them at once. The animals, quivering with fear, stood still; the coachman recovered his control over them; and Giuseppe, opening the door, assisted an elderly gentleman, very richly dressed, to alight, and inquired kindly if he had suffered injury.
“I have only been alarmed;” replied the gentleman, carefully adjusting his dress, and drawing his cloak about him. “But my daughter”—
Giuseppe had already lifted from the carriage the nearly lifeless form of a young girl. As the lamp-light fell upon her face, he could see it was one of matchless beauty.