Vittorio Corsoni was not much changed in personal appearance since we saw him last. Originally very dark in complexion, exposure to the sun, wind and weather could not make him much darker, and he had the same long, black curls, small, white teeth, and large, melancholy eyes—eyes that had so mesmerized every woman that had ever come under their influence, and so bewitched Alberta Goldsborough to her destruction, and he had the same slight, agile and graceful figure that so reminded the beholder of a tiger. He wore a uniform of black cloth, with a crimson sash around his waist, a sword by his side, and a black wide-awake hat, with a black feather, fastened with a great fiery carbuncle.
He walked briskly up to Goldsborough to embrace him after the Italian fashion, and in doing so noticed the young lady on the horse behind him, and he raised his cap to the lady before he offered to greet her cavalier.
Albert bent low from his saddle to meet the advance of his friend, who, after kissing him on both cheeks, started back, exclaiming:
“But, good Heavens, Goldsborough! what has happened to your ears? Have they been torn off?”
“No,” laughed Albert; “they have been clawed off, clawed off by this little catamount on the horse behind me!”
“Vittorio Corsoni, don’t you know me? I am Elfrida Fielding, your old pupil.”
“Know you, fair lady? Perhaps not at first. I am glad to do so now. Welcome to my poor camp,” said the Free Sword, removing his hat and holding it in his hand.
“Colonel Corsoni, you used to be a gentleman. You will protect me, I hope, from this miscreant who has torn me away from my friends and brought me here.”
“Fair lady, we brothers-in-arms support each other in love as in war,” said Vittorio gently.
“But he brought me here against my will!” cried Elfie, indignantly.