When travelling, or on active service, one is compelled to accommodate oneself to every kind of society, place, and circumstance; and upon this philosophical principle, I made myself quite at home, and supped merrily with the barone and bandit: of whom the servants stood in the greatest awe. Supper over, wine was produced: however abstemious the Italians may be, I saw no sign of the national trait that night, at Castelguelfo; where we drank the richest continental wines, emptying the decanters in rapid succession, as if we had been three Germans drinking for a wager.
Rendered mellow by his potations, our host became talkative; and, in spite of the nods and contemptuous frowns of the impatient Scarolla, informed me that he was collecting men to make a political demonstration, of which I should soon hear at Palermo—an attack on a powerful feudatory, with whom he had a deadly quarrel, which the presence of our army only smothered for a time.
"It will be superb," grinned the barone. "I hate him with the stern bitterness of a thorough old Calabrese. Thrice has he crossed me at court: he caused Ferdinand to regard me with coldness and jealousy, and when all the nobles of the province received the order of San Constantino, I alone was left undecorated; and my name, the oldest in Naples, was forgotten. We have now the country to ourselves; and taking advantage of the lull, all Italy, from Scylla to the Alps, shall ring with my retribution. Yesterday, Crotona was abandoned to the Calabri; the soldiers who fought and won at Maida have all withdrawn, and there is no one to mar my revenge. O, it will be signal! In their king's service, the followers of my foe are all in garrison at Reggio; and his residence is unprotected. I have a hundred sbirri well mounted, armed and faithful; Scarolla has four hundred of the bravest rogues that ever levelled a rifle. Superba! Loyal visconte, beware the fangs of the Wolf! Per Baccho! there shall be a modern feud between the Guelfi and Alfieri, famous as that they had of old—ha! ha!"
"The Villa D'Alfieri is then the point of attack," said I.
"Superba!" screamed the little barone, who was becoming more inebriated: "yes; I will clothe its walls in flames; and if blood can quench them, then so shall they be quenched. Yea, in blood, shed where my ancestor's yet cries for vengeance. Viva Guesippe Buonaparte!"
"One alone shall be spared, excellency;" remarked Scarolla, who was also becoming excited.
"So I have promised you, prince of rogues, as the price of your services. The plunder of the villa belongs to your followers; and to you falls that glorious prize, the theme of our improvisatori, the pride of the Calabrias——"
"Bianca D'Alfieri!" added Scarolla, his eyes lighting with insolent triumph.
"Superb! is she not?" laughed the barone.
"God curse you both," I muttered; instinctively feeling for my sabre, and gulping down my wine, to hide the passion that boiled within me. I thanked Heaven that they knew not of Gismondo and his company; by whom I hoped the villa would be saved from this revengeful rebel.