Some of them still retained in their manners traces of good Neapolitan society, but the majority were a crew of the most hardened ruffians that ever were congregated together. I fully expected on being presented to the leader, to experience the most brutal treatment; having been always led to suppose that Francatripa was a very demon incarnate, and save Mammone, the worst of all the outlaws of lawless Calabria.
"Now then, gentlemen, remember that with my own hand I will shoot the first who attempts to escape. Hear me! you in particular?" said Gaspare Truffi, giving his threat additional force by bestowing on my shoulder a smart stroke with a pistol butt (one of my own silver-mounted pops with rifled barrels, a present from the General.) At that moment, my heart swelled almost to bursting! I turned fiercely towards Truffi; but, on beholding him astride my gallant grey, with his short crooked legs scarcely reaching below the saddle flaps, his prodigious hump, his overgrown head and amply bearded visage surmounted by a straw hat of the largest size, his grotesque figure viewed by the moonlight was so ludicrous that I burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. Even the grave Castelermo laughed aloud, and the whole band joined in a hearty roar of merriment. This, though it put us all in tolerable humour, roused the wrath of the hunchback; who glared from one to another without knowing on whom to wreak his passion.
"It is quite a riddle to me how this odd fellow was ever permitted beneath the roof of the St. Agata palace: you remember, we first met him there," said I to my companion.
"The cursed reptile played well and deeply: but I doubt much if he would again dare to approach——"
"Silenzio!" thundered the hunchback, as he forced Cartouche (whom he could scarcely manage) toward me, sideways, and twice endeavoured to ride over me: but the brave charger knew me too well, and always swerved aside when approaching too close. Failing thus in his object, Gaspare dealt me a blow on the mouth with the pistol butt, which covered my face with blood, and nearly demolished my front teeth. The band murmured at this cowardly outrage; and perhaps nothing but fear of Francatripa prevented his incensed lieutenant from pistolling me on the spot.
We had now arrived at the place appointed; the ruins of a majestic fane, which had once echoed the precepts of Pythagoras and the triumphs of Milo: its massive doric columns, the ponderous abacus, and carved entablature, with the most exquisite specimens of sculpture, were all hurled together in chaotic heaps, just as the temple had been left by some tremendous convulsion, which had levied its glories to the dust. The stones were mossy and green; the vine and ivy, the scarlet fuschia and the wild rose, and a thousand odorous plants flourished luxuriantly and entwined the ruins with wreaths of blossom. But there was something melancholy in the aspect of the place when viewed by the brilliant moon: the same orb which had beheld the first stone of their foundations laid, amid all the religious solemnities of pagan Greece.
A horn was sounded; but the echoes died away, and no answering blast awoke them again: the ruins were minutely searched, but there was no appearance of Francatripa.
"Maladetto!" said one fellow, shrugging his shoulders, "the capitano stays somewhat long with his dear love to-night!"
"Colonello, you should say, Gaetano," replied another. "Does he not bear the king's commission; ay, and a sweet letter, they say, Carolina sent him, written with her own hand?"
"Yes, and we are to become soldiers like the men of Marco Sciarra. Madonna bless the day! I am tired of this life."