We laughed. We could not help it. But it was unwise, for the men grew angry as well as vociferous, dancing around their prisoner in a transport of enraged perplexity that put a new face upon the affair. Prima went to the rescue of her undismayed friend. She assured the officers that the lady was really ignorant of their language, and willing to do what was just and right. Calming down, they yet declared that she, and, indeed, all of us, must go into the office, give an account of ourselves, and pay duty upon such contraband articles as we had with us. It might be a form, but it was the law. Where was our gray-haired officer all this while? We had not seen him since he assisted us to alight from the carriage, the precious portfolio held cleverly under his left arm. Now, casting anxious eyes upon the crowd gathering about our devoted band, we looked vainly for the silvery head and military cap, for the gleam of the gold lace upon his one uncovered shoulder. It was plain that he had deserted us at the first note of alarm.
“And my beautiful portfolio!” gasped the late owner thereof.
We were at the gate, Miss M—— the only composed one of the humbled “larks,” the curious throng pressing nearer and closer, when down into their ranks charged a flying figure, careless that the streaming cloak revealed the Sorrento folio—waving a paper in his hand. The officers raised their caps; fell away from us and ordered off the gaping bystanders.
“I am most sorry,” said our deliverer, breathless with haste. “But when I saw the men stop you, I went into the Custom-House to obtain a pass in due form from the chief.”
Prima has it to this day. It certified that the contents of our parcels were “articles de luxe” for our personal use, and ordered that we should be suffered to proceed upon our way unmolested.
“It was the shortest way, and the safest,” pursued our self-constituted escort, walking with us to the carriage. “But allow me to express my sorrow that you were subjected to even a momentary annoyance.”
He handed us into our carriage; regretted that his return that night to Castellamare would prevent him from being of further service to us during our stay in Naples, smiled and disclaimed when we thanked him warmly for his kindness, and uncovered his dear old head as we drove away.
Miss M—— sank back with a long sobbing breath, the first indication of agitation she had displayed since the arrest at the gate:
“I shall love the sight of the Italian uniform as long as I live!” she averred, with heartfelt emphasis.
“So said”—and so do—“all of us!”