"And is this person known to gain his bread by a practice so horrible?" I asked.
"Certainly!" replied the pistolier. "When Fritz and I were in the Spanish guards, we have passed him in the streets of Madrid a thousand times; and knew him by his long lock, his long sword, his dogged visage and ferocious eye, to be Bandolo the bravo, who resided in the Plaza Mayor, and who, for ten pistoles, would strike him or me, or any man dead, on the first secret opportunity."
Having just come from our native land, where assassination was unknown, and where brave men settled all their disputes fairly by their swords, and always sheathed them on the first blood being drawn, we were as much astonished by this dark recital as two peaceful Holsteiners who were sipping skeidam and water in a corner of the tavern, and who set down their green crystal cups to listen.
"And Prudentia is sister of this ruffian?"
"The great Bandolo," said Fritz laughing. "I daresay the little dancer thinks it is quite an honour to be the sister of so famous a man; for there are some who deem it better to be famed for bad deeds than not have fame at all."
"I'll tell you a story," said the baron. "Two gentlemen of Naples—a cavalier and a knight of Malta—quarrelled; and, according to the detestable practice of Italy, each sent privately, offering a hundred pistoles, to Bandolo, and requesting him to dispose of the other. The messenger of the cavalier came first; the second was the knight of Malta, whom Bandolo poniarded just as he was paying down the hundredth pistole, and he fell dead over the table.
"The bravo wiped his poniard, swept the money into his purse, and hurried away to the cavalier, his first employer, to relate that his enemy was dead.
"'I greatly commend your dexterity, my worthy friend, Bandolo,' said the cavalier, untying his purse from his girdle; 'you are quite master of your noble profession!'
"'Si, señor,' replied the Spaniard; 'all who do me the favour to employ me, find me punctual; for I am an old Castilian, and a man of honour, whom my father—a prince of bravoes before me—trained up in the way I should go; and to convince you, señor cavalier, that I will not forfeit that transmitted honour, I must mention that the knight of Malta, whom I have just sent to the company of the saints, gave me a hundred pistoles to make an end of you?
"'But he is dead, and cannot call you to account for not fulfilling your pledge,' replied the cavalier, overcome with terror.