It was addressed to the "Cavaliere Galdino di Belcastro," and endorsed in the corner "Regnier, General de Division."
"Now, I would give a thousand ducats to know what this contained!" said my companion, as he thrust it into his long glove. "'T is sealed with the crest of the iron crown, and—but Basta! here he comes."
As he spoke, there entered the hall a tall man of powerful frame and most forbidding aspect, attired in the full dress of the old school: his hair powdered and tied with a white riband, his shirt ruffled at the wrists and bosom, a wide skirted coat and black satin knee breeches with buckles. The courtly air which this costume usually imparts to the wearer, rather heightened than diminished the repulsive manner of this tyrannical feudatory.
"Lights here! Olà, Baptistello! a light, you loitering whelp," he cried with the voice of one in no pleasant mood. In less than a minute, servants had lighted the wax candles of three gigantic girandoles, and we had a better view of our host. He was past the meridian of life, and his countenance, which I have already characterized as forbidding, was rendered yet more so by a hideous cicatrix, as from the gash of a sword-cut, which grew purple and black alternately. He bowed to us with frigid hauteur, and then surveyed with a peculiar glance the tall and noble figure of Castelermo. The latter changed colour on beholding the scar, but said with a stern aspect, after a pause,—
"How now, Signor Galdino! do you take me for a lynx, a torpedo, the devil, or what, that you look on me thus?"
"For none of these," he answered, coldly; "but say who are ye, signori, that force yourselves upon my privacy uninvited?"
"I am an officer of his Britannic Majesty's service—Luogoteniente di Fanteria nel servizio Britanica—and a bearer of despatches." The cavaliere bowed.
"And I the Cavaliere di Castelermo, Knight Commander of Malta, and an officer of the Free Calabri: as such, I demand your reasons for firing upon us like some base brigand, thus committing both treason and sacrilege."
"By the ancient customs of Calabria, common to the land since the days of Count Roger the First, I may defend my residence against the intrusion of all men. As for the treason, cospetto! I care little whether Buonaparte or Ferdinand is our ruler; and as for the sacrilege, I can answer for that where, when, and how you will!" His fingers played convulsively with a little stiletto, which hung half concealed beneath the lapelle of his embroidered vest.
"Rest assured, Signor Galdino, that I am not slow in literally translating the hint; but recollect that, as a cavaliere of birth and honour, I would scorn to put my life in the scale with a traitor's!"