The conciarotti, or leather-dressers, occupied the lowest and most filthy parts of the city. In every revolutionary commotion, riot, and brawl, they pre-eminently distinguished themselves by their murderous ferocity, and wanton outrages; and even during times of the most perfect peace, woe to the sbirro, or officer of the civil courts, who dared to show his face within their districts: which thus became a sanctuary for the robbers and assassins of all Sicily. These, from the date of their entrance, became enrolled among the conciarotti; and to offend one member of this lawless community was sufficient to arouse the whole in arms. Many of the first noblesse in the kingdom were savagely massacred by the conciarotti during the riot of 1820; since when they have been, by the most vigorous efforts, rooted out, and their hideous den, so long a festering sore on the face of Palermo, utterly demolished.
Ripe at all times for wanton outrage, especially against the weak and unoffending, and animated by the prospect of plunder, a rabble of these black-browed artisans, armed with ox-goads, knives, and clubs, threw themselves, with loud yells, upon the carriage which bore the arms of Santugo; they would have smashed it to pieces in a moment, had I not cut their leader down—an act which struck them with a panic—and, aided by Oliver Lascelles (a brother officer, who luckily came up at that moment), drove them back sword in hand. To hurry the ladies up the steps of the carriage, to close the door, and spring on the foot-board behind, was the work of a moment; and we drove off to Sant' Agata Palace, with all the rabble of Palermo yelling in our rear, like a pack of hungry hounds after a fruitless chase.
The splendid mansion of this Calabrese prince would probably have fallen a prey to the furious conciarotti, but for the timely arrival of the Queen's Italian Guard, and a detachment of ours, which were quartered in it for its protection.
Having thus, like a cavalier of romance, obtained a strong claim to the gratitude of the young ladies, next night, at a gay fête given by the Prince of St. Agatha, I made all my approaches to these fair belles in due form: opened the trenches between the figures of a quadrille, came to closer quarters in the waltz, and kept up such a continual fire of little attentions and gallant nonsense, that ere the ball closed I congratulated myself on having made a favourable impression where I had some anxiety to please. I returned to my gloomy quarters in Fort la Galita, with my head buzzing from the effects of the prince's good wine and the myriad wax-lights which illuminated his saloons, to dream of Italian eyes and ankles, Sicilian gaiety, and the soft voice and softer smile of Bianca d'Alfieri, until aroused next morning by our drums beating the generale in the echoing squares of the fortress.
"Dundas, the route for Syracuse has come!" cried Lascelles, knocking lustily at my room door. "We march at daybreak to relieve the 81st. Deuced unpleasant, is it not?"
"Devil take the route!" thought I, as an appointment with Bianca to gallop along the Marina, and drive four-in-hand to Montreale, flashed upon my mind. But there was no help for it. The 62nd bade adieu to "Palermo the Happy," and amid the severe duties of Syracuse, I perhaps ceased for a time to think of Bianca. But to resume.
"Ah, signora!" said I, taking her hand, "you have not quite forgotten me, then?"
"Oh, Signor Claude, how can I forgot that terrible night with the conciarotti?"
"And the ball at the prince's palace?"
A slight blush suffused her soft cheek, and I felt my old penchant returning with renewed strength. "Good!" I thought; "she has not forgotten my name." On inquiring for her sisters, Ortensia and Francesca, whose black eyes had so bewitched poor Oliver Lascelles, the young lady changed colour, as if one part of my inquiry distressed her, and the Visconte appeared a little disconcerted. I had made an unlucky blunder, yet knew not how.