THE DODGE CLUB, OR, ITALY IN MDCCCLIX.
by
James De Mille
Author of "Cord and Creese; or, the Brandon Mystery," etc., etc
With One Hundred Illustrations
New York:
Harper & Brothers Publishers,
Franklin Square
1872.
CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
PARIS.--THE DODGE CLUB.--HOW TO SPEAK FRENCH.--HOW TO RAISE A CROWD.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Dick!--Here I Invite My Friends.--The Club.--The Place VendÔme.--Keep It Buttons!
CHAPTER II.
ORLEANS.--HOW TO QUELL A LANDLORD.--HOW TO FIGHT OFF HUMBUGS; AND HOW TO TRAVEL WITHOUT BAGGAGE.
ILLUSTRATIONS. That's A Hotel Bill.--Cicero Against Verres. --Sac-r-r-r-rÉ.
CHAPTER III.
THE RHONE IN A RAIN.--THE MAD FRENCHMAN.--SUICIDE A CAPITAL CRIME IN FRANCE.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Number 729.--Horror! Despair!
CHAPTER IV.
MARSEILLES.
CHAPTER V.
THE RETIRED ORGAN-GRINDER.--THE SENATOR PHILOSOPHIZES.--EVILS OF NOT HAVING A PASSPORT.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Those Italians.--Genoa, The Superb.
CHAPTER VI.
LAZARONI AND MACARONI.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Their Noble Excellencies.--Lazaroni And Macaroni.
CHAPTER VII.
DOLORES.--AN ITALIAN MAID LEARNS ENGLISH.--A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE.--A MASQUERADE, AND WHAT BEFELL THE SENATOR.--A CHARMING DOMINO.--A MOONLIGHT WALK, AND AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Yankee Doodle.--I Kiss Hands.--The Young Hussar.--A Perplexed Senator.--Exit Senator.
CHAPTER VIII.
ADVENTURES AND MISADVENTURES.--A WET GROTTO AND A BOILING LAKE.--THE TWO FAIR SPANIARDS, AND THE DONKEY RIDE.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Darn it!--Don't.--Thump!--A Trying Moment.--Senator And Donkey.
CHAPTER IX.
A DRIVE INTO THE COUNTRY.--A FIGHT WITH A VETTURINO.--THE EFFECT OF EATING "HARD BOILED EGGS."--WHAT THEY SAW AT PAESTUM.--FIVE TEMPLES AND ONE "MILL."
ILLUSTRATIONS. Do You See That?--The Mill At Paestum.
CHAPTER X.
ON THE WATER, WHERE BUTTONS SEES A LOST IDEA AND GIVES CHASE TO IT, TOGETHER WITH THE HEART-SICKENING RESULTS THEREOF.
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Spaniards.--A Thousand Pardons!
CHAPTER XI.
THE SENATOR HAS SUCH A FANCY FOR SEEKING USEFUL INFORMATION!--CURIOUS POSITION OF A WISE, AND WELL-KNOWN, AND DESERVEDLY-POPULAR LEGISLATOR, AND UNDIGNIFIED MODE OF HIS ESCAPE.
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Senator.
CHAPTER XII.
HERCULANEUM AND POMPEII, AND ALL THAT THE SIGHT OF THOSE FAMOUS PLACES PRODUCED ON THE MINDS OF THE DODGE CLUB.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Villa Of Diomedes.--Phew!--A Street In Pompeii.
CHAPTER XIII.
VESUVIUS.--WONDERFUL ASCENT OF THE CONE.--WONDERFUL DESCENT INTO THE CRATER.--AND MOST WONDERFUL DISAPPEARANCE OF MR. FIGGS, AFTER WHOM ALL HIS FRIENDS GO, WITH THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS.--GREAT SENSATION AMONG SPECTATORS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Ascent Of Vesuvius.--The Descent Of Vesuvius.--Where's Figgs?--Mr Figgs.--The Ladies.
CHAPTER XIV.
MAGNIFICENT ATTITUDE OF THE SENATOR; BRILLIANCY OF BUTTONS; AND PLUCK OF THE OTHER MEMBERS OF THE CLUB: BY ALL OF WHICH THE GREATEST EFFECTS ARE PRODUCED.
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Bandits Captured.--Sold.
CHAPTER XV.
DOLORES ONCE MORE.--A PLEASANT CONVERSATION.--BUTTONS LEARNS MORE OF HIS YOUNG FRIEND.--AFFECTING FAREWELL.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Two Piastres!--The Brave Soldier.
CHAPTER XVI.
DICK RELATES A FAMILY LEGEND.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Buying A Whale.--The Long-Lost Son.
CHAPTER XVII.
NIGHT ON THE ROAD.--THE CLUB ASLEEP.--THEY ENTER ROME.--THOUGHTS ON APPROACHING AND ENTERING "THE ETERNAL CITY."
ILLUSTRATIONS. To Rome.
CHAPTER XVIII.
A LETTER BY DICK, AND CRITICISMS OF HIS FRIENDS.
CHAPTER XIX.
ST. PETER'S!--THE TRAGIC STORY OF THE FAT MAN IN THE BALL.--HOW ANOTHER TRAGEDY NEARLY HAPPENED.--THE WOES OF MEINHERR SCHATT.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Gracious Me!
CHAPTER XX.
THE GLORY, GRANDEUR, BEAUTY, AND INFINITE VARIETY OF THE PINCIAN HILL; NARRATED AND DETAILED NOT COLUMNARILY BUT EXHAUSTIVELY, AND AFTER THE MANNER OF RABELAIS.
CHAPTER XXI.
HARMONY ON THE PINCIAN HILL.--MUSIC HATH CHARMS.--AMERICAN MELODIES. --THE GLORY, THE POWER, AND THE BEAUTY OF YANKEE DOODLE, AND THE MERCENARY SOUL OF AN ITALIAN ORGAN-GRINDER.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Old Virginny.
CHAPTER XXII.
HOW A BARGAIN IS MADE.--THE WILES OF THE ITALIAN TRADESMAN.--THE NAKED SULKY BEGGAR, AND THE JOVIAL WELL-CLAD BEGGAR.--WHO IS THE KING OF BEGGARS?
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Shrug.
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MANIFOLD LIFE OF THE CAFÉ NUOVO, AND HOW THEY RECEIVED THE NEWS ABOUT MAGENTA.--EXCITEMENT.--ENTHUSIASM.--TEARS.--EMBRACES.
ILLUSTRATIONS. News Of Magenta!
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHECKMATE!
ILLUSTRATIONS. Before And After.
CHAPTER XXV.
BUTTONS A MAN OF ONE IDEA.--DICK AND HIS MEASURING TAPE.--DARK EYES. --SUSCEPTIBLE HEART.--YOUNG MAIDEN WHO LIVES OUT OF TOWN.--GRAND COLLISION OF TWO ABSTRACTED LOVERS IN THE PUBLIC STREETS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Away!--Pepita.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CONSEQUENCES OF BEING GALLANT IN ITALY, WHERE THERE ARE LOVERS, HUSBANDS, BROTHERS, FATHERS, COUSINS, AND INNUMERABLE OTHER RELATIVES AND CONNECTIONS, ALL READY WITH THE STILETTO.
ILLUSTRATIONS. An Interruption.
CHAPTER XXVII.
DICK ON THE SICK LIST.--RAPTURE OF BUTTONS AT MAKING AN IMPORTANT DISCOVERY.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Poor Dick!
CHAPTER XXVIII.
WHAT KIND OF A LETTER THE SENATOR WROTE FOR THE "NEW ENGLAND PATRIOT," WHICH SHOWS A TRITE, LIBERAL, UNBIASED, PLAIN, UNVARNISHED VIEW OF ROME.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Sketches By A Friend.
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE LONELY ONE AND HIS COMFORTER.--THE TRUE MEDICINE FOR A SICK MAN.
CHAPTER XXX.
OCCUPATIONS AND PEREGRINATIONS OF BUTTONS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Buttons and Murray.
CHAPTER XXXI.
BUTTONS ACTS THE GOOD SAMARITAN, AND LITERALLY UNEARTHS A MOST UNEXPECTED VICTIM OF AN ATROCIOUS ROBBERY.--GR-R-R-A-CIOUS ME!
CHAPTER XXXII.
ANOTHER DISCOVERY MADE BY BUTTONS.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekek koax koax koax. [TN: /end Greek.]
ILLUSTRATIONS. Brekekekek koax koax!
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE SENATOR PURSUES HIS INVESTIGATIONS.--AN INTELLIGENT ROMAN TOUCHES A CHORD IN THE SENATOR'S HEART THAT VIBRATES.--RESULTS OF THE VIBRATION.--A VISIT FROM THE ROMAN POLICE; AND THE GREAT RACE DOWN THE CORSO BETWEEN THE SENATOR AND A ROMAN SPY.--GLEE OF THE POPULACE!--HI! HI!
ILLUSTRATIONS. Got You There!--Walking Spanish.
CHAPTER XXXV.
DICK MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT, AND BEGINS TO FEEL ENCOURAGED.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Dick Thinks It Over. The Senator In A Bad Fix.--The Senator In A Worse Fix.
CHAPTER XXXVII.
_ROME_.--_ANCIENT HISTORY_.--THE PREHISTORIC ERA.--CRITICAL EXAMINATION OF NIEBUHR AND HIS SCHOOL.--THE EARLY HISTORY OF ROME PLACED ON A RIGHT BASIS.--EXPLANATION OF HISTORY OF REPUBLIC. --NAPOLEON'S "CAESAR."--THE IMPERIAL REGIME.--THE NORTHERN BARBARIANS.--RISE OF THE PAPACY.--MEDIAEVAL ROME.
_TOPOGRAPHY_.--TRUE ADJUSTMENT OF BOUNDS OF ANCIENT CITY.--ITS PROBABLE POPULATION.--_GEOLOGY_.--EXAMINATION OF FORMATION.--TUFA TRAVERTINE.--ROMAN CEMENT.--TERRA-COTTA. _SPECIAL CONSIDERATION OF ROMAN CATACOMBS_.--BOSIO.--ARRINGHI.--CARDINAL WISEMAN.--RECENT EXPLORATIONS, INVESTIGATIONS, EXAMINATIONS, EXHUMATIONS, AND RESUSCITATIONS.--EARLY CHRISTIAN HISTORY SET ON A TRUE BASIS. --RELICS.--MARTYRS.--REAL ORIGIN OF CATACOMBS.--TRUE AND RELIABLE EXTENT (WITH MAPS).
_REMARKS ON ART_.--THE RENAISSANCE.--THE EARLY PAINTERS: CIMABUE, GIOTTO, PERUGINO, RAFAELLE SANZIO, MICHELANGELO BUONAROTTI.--THE TRANSFIGURATION.--THE MOSES OF MICHELANGELO.--BELLINI.--SAINT PETER'S, AND MORE PARTICULARLY THE COLONNADE.--THE LAST JUDGMENT. --DANTE.--THE MEDIAEVAL SPIRIT.--EFFECT OF GOTHIC ART ON ITALY AND ITALIAN TASTE.--COMPARISON, OF LOMBARD WITH SICILIAN CHURCHES.--TO WHAT EXTENT ROME INFLUENCED THIS DEVELOPMENT.--THE FOSTERING SPIRIT OF THE CHURCH.--ALL MODERN ART CHRISTIAN.--WHY THIS WAS A NECESSITY. --FOLLIES OF MODERN CRITICS.--REYNOLDS AND RUSKIN.--HOW FAR POPULAR TASTE IS WORTH ANY THING.--CONCLUDING REMARKS OF A MISCELLANEOUS DESCRIPTION.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
ITALIAN TRAVEL, ROADS, INNS.--A GRAND BREAKDOWN.--AN ARMY OF BEGGARS.--SIX MEN HUNTING UP A CARRIAGE WHEEL; AND PLANS OF THE SENATOR FOR THE GOOD OF ITALY.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Travelling In Italy.--The Senator's Escort.
CHAPTER XXXIX.
TRIUMPHANT PROGRESS OF DICK.--GENDARMES FOILED.--THE DODGE CLUB IS ATTACKED BY BRIGANDS, AND EVERY MAN OF IT COVERS HIMSELF WITH GLORY.--SCREAM OF THE AMERICAN EAGLE!
ILLUSTRATIONS. Dick In His Glory.--Pietro.--The Barricade.
CHAPTER XL.
PLEASANT MEDIATIONS ABOUT THE WONDERS OF TOBACCO; AND THREE PLEASANT ANECDOTES BY AN ITALIAN BRIGAND.
CHAPTER XLI.
FINAL ATTACK OF REINFORCEMENTS OF BRIGANDS.--THE DODGE CLUB DEFIES THEM AND REPELS THEM.--HOW TO MAKE A BARRICADE.--FRATERNIZATION OF AMERICAN EAGLE AND GALLIC COCK.--THERE'S NOTHING LIKE LEATHER.
ILLUSTRATIONS. An International Affair.
CHAPTER XLII.
FLORENCE.--DESPERATION OF BUTTONS, OF MR. FIGGS, AND OF THE DOCTOR.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Florence From San Miniato.--Pitti Palace.--Fountain Of Neptune, Palazzo Vecchio.--The Duomo.--The Campanile.--Trozzi Palace. --Buttons Melancholy.
CHAPTER XLIII.
THE SENATOR ENTRAPPED.--THE WILES AND WITCHERY OF A QUEEN OF SOCIETY. --HIS FATE DESTINED TO BE, AS HE THINKS, ITALIAN COUNTESSES. --SENTIMENTAL CONVERSATION.--POETRY.--BEAUTY.--MOONLIGHT.--RAPTURE. --DISTRACTION.--BLISS!
ILLUSTRATIONS. La Cica.
CHAPTER XLIV.
"MORERE DIAGORA, NON ENIM IN COELUM ADSCENSURUS ES."--THE APOTHEOSIS OF THE SENATOR (NOTHING LESS--IT WAS A MOMENT IN WHICH A MAN MIGHT WISH TO DIE--THOUGH, OF COURSE, THE SENATOR DIDN'T DIE).
ILLUSTRATIONS. Solferino!--The Senator Speaks.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE PRIVATE OPINION OF THE DOCTOR ABOUT FOREIGN TRAVEL.--BUTTONS STILL MEETS WITH AFFLICTIONS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. A Grease Spot.--Farewell, Figgs!
CHAPTER XLVI.
A MEMORABLE DRIVE.--NIGHT.--THE BRIGANDS ONCE MORE.--GARIBALDI'S NAME.--THE FIRE.--THE IRON BAR.--THE MAN FROM THE GRANITE STATE AND HIS TWO BOYS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. In The Coach.--A Free Fight.--Don't Speak.
CHAPTER XLVII.
BAD BRUISES, BUT GOOD MUSES.--THE HONORABLE SCABS OF DICK.--A KNOWLEDGE OF BONES.
CHAPTER XLVIII.
SUFFERING AND SENTIMENT AT BOLOGNA.--MOONSHINE.--BEST BALM FOR WOUNDS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Used Up.
CHAPTER XLIX.
CROSSING INTO THE ENEMY'S COUNTRY.--CONSTERNATION OF THE CUSTOM-HOUSE OFFICERS.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Buttons In Bliss.
CHAPTER L.
VENICE AND ITS PECULIAR GLORY.--THE DODGE CLUB COME TO GRIEF AT LAST. --UP A TREE.--IN A NET, ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Dick's Luggage.--Arrested.--Silence!
CHAPTER LI.
THE AMERICAN EAGLE AND THE AUSTRIAN DOUBLE-HEADED DITTO.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Don't Try It On With Me.
CHAPTER LII.
THE SENATOR STILL ENGAGED IN FACING DOWN THE AUSTRIAN.--THE AMERICAN CONSUL.--UNEXPECTED RE-APPEARANCE OF FORGOTTEN THINGS.--COLLAPSE OF THE COURT.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Watts Mis-spelled.
CHAPTER LIII.
A MYSTERIOUS FLIGHT.--DESPAIR OF BUTTONS.--PURSUIT.--HISTORIC GROUND, AND HISTORIC CITIES.
ILLUSTRATIONS. Formalities.
CHAPTER LIV.
DICK MEETS AN OLD FRIEND.--THE EMOTIONAL NATURE OF THE ITALIAN. --THE SENATOR OVERCOME AND DUMBFOUNDED.
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Count Ugo.
CHAPTER LV.
IN WHICH BUTTONS WRITES A LETTER; AND IN WHICH THE CLUB LOSES AN IMPORTANT MEMBER.--SMALL BY DEGREES AND BEAUTIFULLY LESS.
CHAPTER LVI.
THE FAITHFUL ONE!--DARTS, DISTRACTION, LOVE'S VOWS, OVERPOWERING SCENE AT THE MEETING OF TWO FOND ONES.--COMPLETE BREAK-DOWN OF THE HISTORIAN.
ILLUSTRATIONS. The Door.
CHAPTER LVII.
THE DODGE CLUB IN PARIS ONCE MORE.--BUTTONS'S "JOLLY GOOD HEALTH."
ILLUSTRATIONS. He's A Jolly Good Fellow.
Dick!
[Illustration: Dick!]
CHAPTER I.
PARIS.--THE DODGE CLUB.--HOW TO SPEAK FRENCH.--HOW TO RAISE A CROWD.
It is a glorious day in Paris. The whole city is out in the public places, watching the departure of the army of Italy. Every imaginable uniform, on foot and on horseback, enlivens the scene. Zouaves are everywhere. Cent Gardes hurry to and fro, looking ferocious. Imperial Gardes look magnificent. Innumerable little red-legged soldiers of the line dance about, gesticulating vehemently. Grisettes hang about the necks of departing braves. A great many tears are shed, and a great deal of bombast uttered. For the invincible soldiers of France are off to fight for an idea; and doesn't every one of them carry a marshal's baton in his knapsack?
A troop of Cent Gardes comes thundering down in a cloud of dust, dashing the people right and left. Loud cheers arise: "Vive l'Empereur!" The hoarse voices of myriads prolong the yell. It is Louis Napoleon. He touches his hat gracefully to the crowd.
A chasseur leaps into a cab.
"Where shall I take you?"
"To Glory!" shouts the soldier.
The crowd applaud. The cabman drives off and don't want any further direction. Here a big-bearded Zouave kisses his big-bearded brother in a blouse.
"Adieu, mon frÈre; write me."
"Where shall I write?"
"Direct to Vienna--_poste restante_."
Every body laughs at every thing, and the crowd are quite wild at this.
A young man is perched upon a pillar near the garden wall of the Tuileries. He enjoys the scene immensely. After a while he takes a clay pipe from his pocket and slowly fills it. Having completed this business he draws a match along the stone and is just about lighting his pipe.
"Halloo!"
Down drops the lighted match on the neck of an _ouvrier_. It burns. The man scowls up; but seeing the cause, smiles and waves his hand forgivingly.
"Dick!"
At this a young man in the midst of the crowd stops and looks around. He is a short young man, in whose face there is a strange mixture of innocence and shrewdness. He is pulling a baby-carriage, containing a small specimen of French nationality, and behind him walks a majestic female.
The young man Dick takes a quick survey and recognizes the person who has called him. Down drops the pole of the carriage, and, to the horror of the majestic female, he darts off, and, springing up the pillar, grasps first the foot and then the hand of his friend.
"Buttons!" he cried; "what, you! you here in Paris!"
"I believe I am."
"Why, when did you come?"
"About a month ago."
"I had no idea of it. I didn't know you were here."
"And I didn't know that you were. I thought by this time that you were in Italy. What has kept you here so long?"
Dick looked confused.
"Why the fact is, I am studying German."
"German! in Paris! French, you mean."
"No, German."
"You're crazy; who with?"
Dick nodded his head toward his late companion.
"What, that woman? How she is scowling at us!"
"Is she?" said Dick, with some trepidation.
"Yes. But don't look. Have you been with her all the time?"
"Yes, seven months."
"Studying German!" cried Buttons, with a laugh. "Who is she?"
"Madame Bang."
Here I Invite My Friends.
[Illustration: Here I Invite My Friends.]
"Bang? Well, Madame Bang must look out for another lodger. You must come with me, young man. You need a guardian. It's well that I came in time to rescue you. Let's be off!"
And the two youths descended and were soon lost in the crowd.
***
"Three flights of steps are bad enough; but great Heavens! what do you mean by taking a fellow up to the eighth story?"
Such was the exclamation of Dick as he fell exhausted into a seat in a little room at the top of one of the tallest houses in Paris.
"Economy, my dear boy."
"Ehem!"
"Paris is overflowing, and I could get no other place without paying an enormous price. Now I am trying to husband my means."
"I should think so."
"I sleep here--"
"And have plenty of bedfellows."
"I eat here--"
"The powers of the human stomach are astounding."
"And here I invite my friends."
"Friends only. I should think. Nothing but the truest friendship could make a man hold out in such an ascent."
"But come. What are your plans?"
"I have none."
"Then you must league yourself with me."
"I shall be delighted."
"And I'm going to Italy."
"Then I'm afraid our league is already at an end."
"Why?"
"I haven't money enough."
"How much have you?"
"Only five hundred dollars; I've spent all the rest of my allowance."
"Five hundred? Why, man, I have only four hundred."
"What! and you're going to Italy?"
"Certainly."
"Then I'll go too and run the risk. But is this the style?" and Dick looked dolefully around.
"By no means--not always. But you must practice economy."
"Have you any acquaintances?"
"Yes, two. We three have formed ourselves into a society for the purpose of going to Italy. We call ourselves the Dodge Club."
"The Dodge Club?"
"Yes. Because our principle is to dodge all humbugs and swindles, which make travelling so expensive generally. We have gained much experience already, and hope to gain more. One of my friends is a doctor from Philadelphia, Doctor Snakeroot, and the other is Senator Jones from Massachusetts. Neither the Doctor nor the Senator understands a word of any language but the American. That is the reason why I became acquainted with them.
"First as to the Doctor, I picked him up at Dunkirk. It was in a cafÉ. I was getting my modest breakfast when I saw him come in. He sat down and boldly asked for coffee. After the usual delay the garÇon brought him a small cup filled with what looked like ink. On the waiter was a cup of _eau de vie_, and a little plate containing several enormous lumps of loaf-sugar. Never shall I forget the Doctor's face of amazement. He looked at each article in succession. What was the ink for? what the brandy? what the sugar? He did not know that the two first when mixed makes the best drink in the world, and that the last is intended for the pocket of the guest by force of a custom dear to every Frenchman. To make a long story short, I explained to him the mysteries of French coffee, and we became sworn friends.
"My meeting with the Senator was under slightly different circumstances. It was early in the morning. It was chilly. I was walking briskly out of town. Suddenly I turned a corner and came upon a crowd. They surrounded a tall man. He was an American, and appeared to be insane. First he made gestures like a man hewing or chopping. Then he drew his hand across his throat. Then he staggered forward and pretended to fall. Then he groaned heavily. After which he raised himself up and looked at the crowd with an air of mild inquiry. They did not laugh. They did not even smile. They listened respectfully, for they knew that the strange gentleman wished to express something. On the whole, I think if I hadn't come up that the Senator would have been arrested by a stiff gendarme who was just then coming along the street. As it was, I arrived just in time to learn that he was anxious to see the French mode of killing cattle, and was trying to find his way to the abattoirs. The Senator is a fine man, but eminently practical. He used to think the French language an accomplishment only. He has changed his mind since his arrival here. He has one little peculiarity, and that is, to bawl broken English at the top of his voice when he wants to communicate with foreigners."
The Club.
[Illustration: The Club.]
Not long afterward the Dodge Club received a new member in the person of Mr. Dick Whiffletree. The introduction took place in a modest cafÉ, where a dinner of six courses was supplied for the ridiculous sum of one franc--soup, a roast, a fry, a bake, a fish, a pie, bread at discretion, and a glass of vinegar generously thrown in.
At one end of the table sat the Senator, a very large and muscular man, with iron-gray hair, and features that were very strongly marked and very strongly American. He appeared to be about fifty years of age. At the other sat the Doctor, a slender young man in black. On one side sat Buttons, and opposite to him was Dick.
"Buttons," said the Senator, "were you out yesterday?"
"I was."
"It was a powerful crowd."
"Rather large."
"It was immense. I never before had any idea of the population of Paris. New York isn't to be compared to it."
"As to crowds, that is nothing uncommon in Paris. Set a rat loose in the Champs ElysÉes, and I bet ten thousand people will be after it in five minutes."
"Sho!"
"Any thing will raise a crowd in Paris."
"It will be a small one, then."
"My dear Senator, in an hour from this I'll engage myself to raise as large a crowd as the one you saw yesterday."
"My dear Buttons, you look like it."
"Will you bet?"
"Bet? Are you in earnest?"
"Never more so."
"But there is an immense crowd outside already."
"Then let the scene of my trial be in a less crowded place--the Place VendÔme, for instance."
"Name the conditions."
"In an hour from this I engage to fill the Place VendÔme with people. Whoever fails forfeits a dinner to the Club."
The eyes of Dick and the Doctor sparkled.
"Done!" said the Senator.
"All that you have to do," said Buttons, "is to go to the top of the Colonne VendÔme and wave your hat three times when you want me to begin."
"I'll do that. But it's wrong," said the Senator. "It's taking money from you. You must lose."
"Oh, don't be alarmed," said Buttons, cheerfully.
The Dodge Club left for the Place VendÔme, and the Senator, separating himself from his companions, began the ascent. Buttons left his friends at a corner to see the result, and walked quickly down a neighboring street.
The Place VendÔme.
[Illustration: The Place VendÔme.]
Dick noticed that every one whom he met stopped, stared, and then walked quickly forward, looking up at the column. These people accosted others, who did the same. In a few minutes many hundreds of people were looking up and exchanging glances with one another.
In a short time Buttons had completed the circuit of the block, and re-entered the Place by another street. He was running at a quick pace, and, at a moderate calculation, about two thousand _gamins de Paris_ ran before, beside, and behind him. Gens d'armes caught the excitement, and rushed frantically about. Soldiers called to one another, and tore across the square gesticulating and shouting. Carriages stopped; the occupants stared up at the column; horsemen drew up their rearing horses; dogs barked; children screamed; up flew a thousand windows, out of which five thousand heads were thrust.
At the end of twenty minutes, after a very laborious journey, the Senator reached the top of the column. He looked down. A cry of amazement burst from him. The immense Place VendÔme was crammed with human beings. Innumerable upturned faces were staring at the startled Senator. All around, the lofty houses sent all their inmates to the open window, through which they looked up. The very house-tops were crowded. Away down all the streets which led to the Place crowds of human beings poured along.
"Well," muttered the Senator, "it's evident that Buttons understands these Frenchmen. However, I must perform my part, so here goes."
And the Senator, majestically removing his hat, waved it slowly around his head seven times. At the seventh whirl his fingers slipped, and a great gust of wind caught the hat and blew it far out into the air.
It fell.
A deep groan of horror burst forth from the multitude, so deep, so long, so terrible that the Senator turned pale.
A hundred thousand heads upturned; two hundred thousand arms waved furiously in the air. The tide
"There will be a chance for them now to show what they can do."
"True; and you will see what they will do. They only want the French to open the way. We Italians can do the rest ourselves. It is a good time to go to Italy. You will see devotion and patriotism such as you never saw before. There is no country so beloved as Italy."
"I think other nations are as patriotic."
"Other nations! What nations? Do you know that the Italians can not leave Italy? It is this love that keeps them home. French, Germans, Spaniards, Portuguese, English--all others leave their homes, and go all over the world to live. Italians can not and do not."
"I have seen Italians in America."
"You have seen Italian exiles, not emigrants. Or you have seen them staying there for a few years so as to earn a little money to go back with. They are only travellers on business. They are always unhappy, and are always cheered by the prospect of getting home at last."
These Italians were brothers, and from experience in the world had grown very intelligent. One had been in the hand-organ business, the other in the image-making line. Italians can do nothing else in the bustling communities of foreign nations. Buttons looked with respect upon those men who thus had carried their lore for their dear Art for years through strange lands and uncongenial climes.
"If I were an Italian I too would be an organ-grinder!" he at length exclaimed.
The Italians did not reply, but evidently thought that Buttons could not be in a better business.
"These _I_talians," said the Senator, to whom Buttons had told the conversation--"these _I_talians," said he, after they had gone, "air a singular people. They're deficient. They're wanting in the leading element of the age. They haven't got any idee of the principle of pro-gress. They don't understand trade. There's where they miss it. What's the use of hand-organs? What's the use of dancers? What's the use of statoos, whether plaster images or marble sculptoor? Can they clear forests or build up States? No, Sir; and therefore I say that this _I_talian nation will never be wuth a cuss until they are inoculated with the spirit of Seventy-six, the principles of the Pilgrim Fathers, and the doctrines of the Revolution. Boney knows it" --he added, sententiously--"bless you, Boney knows it."
After a sound sleep, which lasted until late in the following day, they went out on deck.
There lay Genoa.
Glorious sight! As they stood looking at the superb city the sun poured down upon the scene his brightest rays. The city rose in successive terraces on the side of a semicircular slope crowned with massive edifices; moles projected into the harbor terminated by lofty towers; the inner basin was crowded with shipping, prominent among which were countless French ships of war and transports. The yells of fifes, the throbbing of drums, the bang of muskets, the thunder of cannon, and the strains of martial music filled die air. Boats crowded with soldiers constantly passed from the ship to the stone quays, where thousands more waited to receive them--soldiers being mixed up with guns, cannons, wheels, muskets, drums, baggage, sails, beams, timbers, camps, mattresses, casks, boxes, irons, in infinite confusion.
"We must go ashore here," said Buttons. "Does any body know how long the steamer will remain here?"
"A day."
"A day! That will be magnificent! We will be able to see the whole city in that time. Let's go and order a boat off."
The Captain received them politely.
"What did Messieurs want? To go ashore? With the utmost pleasure. Had they their passports? Of course they had them _visÉd_ in Marseilles for Genoa."
Buttons looked blank, and feebly inquired:
"Why?"
"It's the law, Monsieur. We are prohibited from permitting passengers to go ashore unless their passports are all right. It's a mere form."
"A mere form!" cried Buttons. "Why, ours are _visÉd_ for Naples."
"Naples!" cried the Captain, with a shrug; "you are unfortunate, Messieurs. That will not pass you to Genoa."
"My dear Sir, you don't mean to tell me that, on account of this little informality, you will keep us prisoners on board of this vessel? Consider--"
"Monsieur," said the Captain, courteously, "I did not make these laws. It is the law; I can not change it. I should be most happy to oblige you, but I ask you, how is it possible?"
The Captain was right. He could do nothing. The travellers would have to swallow their rage.
Genoa, The Superb.
[Illustration: Genoa, The Superb.]
Imagine them looking all day at the loveliest of Italian scenes-- the glorious city of Genoa, with all its historic associations!-- the city of the Dorias, the home of Columbus, even now the scene of events upon which the eyes of all the world were fastened.
Imagine them looking upon all this, and only looking, unable to go near; seeing all the preparations for war, but unable to mingle with the warriors. To pace up and down all day; to shake their fists at the scene; to fret, and fume, and chafe with irrepressible impatience; to scold, to rave, to swear--this was the lot of the unhappy tourists.
High in the startled heavens rose the thunder of preparations for the war in Lombardy. They heard the sounds, but could not watch the scene near at hand.
The day was as long as an ordinary week, but at length it came to an end. On the following morning steam was got up, and they went to Leghorn.
"I suppose they will play the same game on us at Leghorn," said Dick, mournfully.
"Without doubt," said Buttons. "But I don't mind; the bitterness of Death is past. I can stand any thing now."
Again the same tantalizing view of a great city from afar. Leghorn lay inviting them, but the unlucky passport kept them on board of the vessel. The Senator grew impatient, Mr. Figgs and the Doctor were testy; Dick and Buttons alone were calm. It was the calmness of despair.
After watching Leghorn for hours they were taken to Civita Vecchia. Here they rushed down below, and during the short period of their stay remained invisible.
At last their voyage ended, and they entered the harbor of Naples. Glorious Naples! Naples the captivating!
"_Vede Napoli_, _e poi mori_!"
There was the Bay of Naples--the matchless, the peerless, the indescribable! There the rock of Ischia, the Isle of Capri, there the slopes of Sorrento, where never-ending spring abides; there the long sweep of Naples and her sister cities; there Vesuvius, with its thin volume of smoke floating like a pennon in the air!
Their Noble Excellencies.
[Illustration: Their Noble Excellencies.]
CHAPTER VI.
LAZARONI AND MACARONI.
About forty or fifty lazaroni surrounded the Dodge Club when they landed, but to their intense disgust the latter ignored them altogether, and carried their own umbrellas and carpet-bags. But the lazaroni revenged themselves. As the Doctor stooped to pick up his cane, which had fallen, a number of articles dropped from his breast-pocket, and among them was a revolver, a thing which was tabooed in Naples. A ragged rascal eagerly snatched it and handed it to a gendarme, and it was only after paying a piastre that the Doctor was permitted to retain it.
Even after the travellers had started on foot in search of lodgings the lazaroni did not desert them. Ten of them followed everywhere. At intervals they respectfully offered to carry their baggage, or show them to a hotel, whichever was most agreeable to their Noble Excellencies.
Their Noble Excellencies were in despair. At length, stumbling upon The CafÉ dell' Europa, they rushed in and passed three hours over their breakfast. This done, they congratulated themselves on. Having got rid of their followers.
In vain!
Scarcely had they emerged from the cafÉ than Dick uttered a cry of horror. From behind a corner advanced their ten friends, with the same calm demeanor, the game unruffled and even cheerful patience, and the same respectful offer of their humble services.
In despair they separated. Buttons and Dick obtained lodgings in the Strada di San Bartollomeo. The Senator and the other two engaged pleasant rooms on the Strada Nuova, which overlooked the Bay.
Certainly Naples is a very curious place. There are magnificent edifices--palaces, monuments, castles, fortresses, churches, and cathedrals. There are majestic rows of buildings; gay shops, splendidly decorated; stately colonnades, and gardens like Paradise. There are streets unrivalled for gayety, forever filled to overflowing with the busy, the laughing, the jolly; dashing officers, noisy soldiers, ragged lazaroni, proud nobles, sickly beggars, lovely ladies; troops of cavalry galloping up and down; ten thousand caleches dashing to and fro. There is variety enough everywhere.
All the trades are divided, and arranged in different parts of the city. Here are the locksmiths, there the cabinet-makers; here the builders, there the armorers; in this place the basket-weavers, in that the cork-makers.
And most amusing of all is the street most favored of the lazaroni. Here they live, and move, and have their being; here they are born, they grow, they wed, they rear families, they eat, and drink, and die. A long array of furnaces extends up the street; over each is a stew-pan, and behind each a cook armed with an enormous ladle. At all hours of the day the cook serves up macaroni to customers. This is the diet of the people.
In the cellars behind those lines of stew-pans are the eating-houses of the vulgar--low, grimy places, floors incrusted with mud, tables of thick deal worn by a thousand horny hands, slippery with ten thousand upset dishes of macaroni. Here the pewter plates, and the iron knives, forks, and spoons are chained to the massive tables. How utter must the destitution be when it is thought necessary to chain up such worthless trash!
Into one of these places went Buttons and Dick in their study of human nature. They sat at the table. A huge dish of macaroni was served up. Fifty guests stopped to look at the new-comers. The waiters winked at the customers of the house, and thrust their tongues in their cheeks.
Lazaroni And Macaroni.
[Illustration: Lazaroni And Macaroni.]
Dick could not eat, but the more philosophical Buttons made an extremely hearty meal, and pronounced the macaroni delicious.
On landing in a city which swarmed with beggars the first thought of our tourists was, How the mischief do they all live? There are sixty thousand lazaroni in this gay city. The average amount of clothing to each man is about one-third of a pair of trowsers and a woolen cap. But after spending a day or two the question changed its form, and became, How the mischief can they all help living? Food may be picked up in the streets. Handfuls of oranges and other fruits sell for next to nothing; strings of figs cost about a cent.
The consequence is that these sixty thousand people, fellow-creatures of ours, who are known as the lazaroni of Naples, whom we half pity and altogether despise, and look upon as lowest members of the Caucasian race, are not altogether very miserable. On the contrary, taken as a whole, they form the oiliest, fattest, drollest, noisiest, sleekest, dirtiest, ignorantest, prejudicedest, narrow-mindedest, shirtlessest, clotheslessest, idlest, carelessest, jolliest, absurdest, rascaliest--but still, all that, perhaps--taken all in all--the happiest community on the face of the earth.
Yankee Doodle.
[Illustration: Yankee Doodle.]
CHAPTER VII.
DOLORES.--AN ITALIAN MAID LEARNS ENGLISH.--A ROMANTIC ADVENTURE.--A MASQUERADE, AND WHAT BEFELL THE SENATOR.--A CHARMING DOMINO.--A MOONLIGHT WALK, AND AN ASTOUNDING DISCOVERY.
The lodgings of Buttons and Dick were in a remarkably central part of Naples. The landlord was a true Neapolitan; a handsome, gay, witty, noisy, lively, rascally, covetous, ungrateful, deceitful, cunning, good-hearted old scoundrel, who took advantage of his guests in a thousand ways, and never spoke to them without trying to humbug them. He was the father of a pretty daughter who had all her parent's nature somewhat toned down, and expanded in a feminine mould.
Buttons had a chivalrous soul, and so had Dick; the vivacity of this very friendly young lady was like an oasis in the wilderness of travel. In the evening they loved to sit in the sunshine of her smile. She was singularly unconventional, this landlord's daughter, and made many informal calls on her two lodgers in their apartment.
An innocent, sprightly little maid--name Dolores--age seventeen-- complexion olive--hair jet black--eyes like stars, large, luminous, and at the same time twinkling--was anxious to learn English, especially to sing English songs; and so used to bring her guitar and sing for the Americans. Would they teach her their national song? "Oh yes happy beyond expression to do so."
The result, after ten lessons, was something like this:
"Anty Dooda tumma towna
By his sef a po-ne
Stacca fadda inna sat
Kalla Maccaroni."
She used to sing this in the most charming manner, especially the last word in the last line. Not the least charm in her manner was her evident conviction that she had mastered the English language.
"Was it not an astonishing thing for so young a Signorina to know English?"
"Oh, it was indeed!" said Buttons, who knew Italian very well, and had the lion's share of the conversation always.
"And they said her accent was fine?"
"Oh, most beautiful!"
"Bellissima! Bellissima!" repeated little Dolores, and she would laugh until her eyes overflowed with delighted vanity.
"Could any Signorina Americana learn Italian in so short a time?"
"No, not one. They had not the spirit. They could never equal her most beautiful accent."
"Ah! you say all the time that my accent is most beautiful."
One day she picked up a likeness of a young lady which was lying on the table.
"Who is this?" she asked, abruptly, of Buttons.
"A Signorina."
"Oh yes! I know; but is she a relative?"
"No."
"Are you married?"
"No."
"Is this your affianced?"
"Yes."
"Ah, how strange! What will you bet?--a soldier or an advocate?"
"Neither. I will be a priest."
"A priest! Signor, what is it that you tell me? How can this be your affianced lady?"
"Oh! in our country the priests all marry, and live in beautiful little cottages, with a garden in front."
This Dolores treated with the most contemptuous incredulity. Who ever heard of such a thing? Impossible! Moreover, it was so absurd. Buttons told her that he was affianced five years ago.
"An eternity!" exclaimed Dolores. "How can you wait? But you must have been very young."
"Young? Yes, only sixteen."
"Blessed and most venerable Virgin! Only sixteen! And is she the most beautiful girl you know?"
"No."
"Where have you seen one more so?"
"In Naples."
"Who is she?"
"An Italian."
"What is her name?"
"Dolores."
"That's me."
"I mean you."
This was pretty direct; but Dolores was frank, and required frankness from others. Some young ladies would have considered this too coarse and open to be acceptable. But Dolores had so high an opinion of herself that she took it for sincere homage. So she half closed her eyes, leaned back in her chair, looked languishingly at Buttons, and then burst into a merry peal of musical laughter.
"I think I am the most beautiful girl you ever saw."
It was Buttons's turn to laugh. He told Dolores that she was quite right, and repeated her favorite word, "Belissima!"
One evening when Dick was alone in the room a knock came to the door.
"Was he disengaged?"
"Oh, quite."
"The Signora in the room next--"
"Yes."
"Would be happy to see him."
"Now?"
"Yes, as soon as he liked."
I Kiss Hands.
[Illustration: I Kiss Hands.]
The Signora did not have to wait long. In less time than it takes to tell this Dick stood with his best bow before her. How he congratulated himself on having studied Italian! The lady reclined on a sofa. She was about thirty, and undeniably pretty. A guitar lay at her feet. Books were scattered around--French novels, and manuals of devotion. Intelligence beamed from her large, expressive eyes. How delightful! Here was an adventure, perhaps a fair conquest.
"Good-evening, Signor!"
"I kiss the hands to your ladyship," said Dick, mustering a sentence from Ollendorff.
"Pardon me for this liberty."
"I assure you it gives me the greatest happiness, and I am wholly at your service."
"I have understood that you are an American."
"I am, Signora."
"And this is your first visit to Naples?"
"My first, Signora."
"How does Naples please you?"
"Exceedingly. The beautiful city, the crowded streets, the delightful views--above all, the most charming ladies."
A bow--a slight flush passed over the lady's face, and Dick whispered to himself--
"Well put, Dick, my boy--deuced well put for a beginner."
"To come to the point," said the lady, with sigh.--("Ah, here we have it!" thought Dick--the point--blessed moment!)--"I would not have ventured to trouble you for any slight cause, Signor, but this nearly concerns myself."--(Keep down--our heart, murmured Dick--cool, you dog--cool!)--"My happiness and my tenderest feelings--"(Dick's suffused eyes expressed deep sympathy.)--"I thought of you--"
"Ah, Signora!"
"And not being acquainted with you--"(What a shame!--_aside_)--I concluded to waive all formality"--(Social forms are generally a nuisance to ardent souls--_aside_)--"and to communicate at once with you."
"Signora, let me assure you that this is the happiest moment in my life."
The Signora looked surprised, but went on in a sort of preoccupied way:
"I want to know if you can tell me any thing about my brother."
"Brother!"
"Who is now in America."
Dick opened his eyes.
"I thought that perhaps you could tell me how he is. I have not heard from him for two years, and feel very anxious."
Dick sat for a moment surprised at this unexpected turn. The lady's anxiety about her brother he could see was not feigned. So he concealed his disappointment, and in his most engaging manner informed her that he had not seen her brother; but if she could tell him his name, and the place where he was living, he might be able to tell something about him.
The Young Hussar.
[Illustration: The Young Hussar.]
"His name," sighed the lady, "is Giulio Fanti."
"And the place?"
"Rio Janeiro."
"Rio Janeiro?"
"Yes," said the lady, slowly.
Dick was in despair. Not to know any thing of her brother would make her think him stupid. So he attempted to explain:
"America," he began, "is a very large country--larger, in fact, than the whole Kingdom of Naples. It is principally inhabited by savages, who are very hostile to the whites. The whites have a few cities, however. In the North the whites all speak English. In the South they all speak Spanish. The South Americans are good Catholics, and respect the Holy Father; but the English in the North are all heretics. Consequently there is scarcely any communication between the two districts."
The lady had heard somewhere that in the American wars they employed the savages to assist them. Dick acknowledged the truth of this with candor, but with pain. She would see by this why he was unable to tell her any thing about her brother. His not knowing that brother was now the chief sorrow of his life. The lady earnestly hoped that Rio Janeiro was well protected from the savages.
"Oh, perfectly so. The fortifications of that city are impregnable."
Dick thus endeavored to give the lady an idea of America. The conversation gradually tapered down until the entrance of a gentleman brought it to a close. Dick bowed himself out.
"At any rate," he murmured, "if the lady wanted to inspect me she had a chance, and if she wanted to pump me she ought to be satisfied."
***
One evening Buttons and Dick came in and found a stranger chatting familiarly with the landlord and a young hussar. The stranger was dressed like a cavalry officer, and was the most astounding fop that the two Americans had ever seen. He paced up and down, head erect, chest thrown out, sabre clanking, spurs jingling, eyes sparkling, ineffable smile. He strode up to the two youths, spun round on one heel, bowed to the ground, waved his hand patronizingly, and welcomed them in.
"A charming night, gallant gentlemen. A bewitching night. All Naples is alive. All the world is going. Are you?"
The young men stared, and coldly asked where?
"Ha, ha, ha!" A merry peal of laughter rang out. "Absolutely--if the young Americans are not stupid. They don't know me!"
"Dolores!" exclaimed Buttons.
"Yes," exclaimed the other. "How do you like me? Am I natural?--eh? military? Do I look terrible?"
And Dolores skipped up and down with a strut beyond description, breathing hard and frowning.
"If you look so fierce you will frighten us away," said Buttons.
"How do I look, now?" she said, standing full before him with folded arms, _À la_ Napoleon at St. Helena.
"Bellissima! Bellissima!" said Buttons, in unfeigned admiration.
"Ah!" ejaculated Dolores, smacking her lips, and puffing out her little dimpled cheeks. "Oh!" and her eyes sparkled more brightly with perfect joy and self-contentment.
"And what is all this for?"
"Is it possible that you do not know?"
"I have no idea."
"Then listen. It is at the Royal Opera-house. It will be the greatest masquerade ball ever given."
"Oh--a masquerade ball!--and you?"
"I? I go as a handsome young officer to break the hearts of the ladies, and have such rare sport. My brave cousin, yonder gallant soldier, goes with me."
The brave cousin, who was a big, heavy-headed fellow, grinned in acknowledgment, but said nothing.
The Royal Opera-house at Naples is the largest, the grandest, and the most capacious in the world. An immense stage, an enormous pit all thrown into one vast room, surrounded by innumerable boxes, all rising, tier above tier--myriads of dancers, myriads of masks, myriads of spectators--so the scene appeared. Moreover, the Neapolitan is a born buffoon. Nowhere is he so natural as at a masquerade. The music, the crowd, the brilliant lights, the incessant motion are all intoxication to this impressible being.
The Senator lent the countenance of his presence--not from curiosity, but from benevolent desire to keep his young friends out of trouble. He narrowly escaped being prohibited from entering by making an outrageous fuss at the door about some paltry change. He actually imagined that it was possible to get the right change for a large coin in Naples.
The multitudes of moving forms made the new-comers dizzy. There were all kinds of fantastic figures. Lions polked with sylphs, crocodiles chased serpents, giants walked arm in arm with dwarfs, elephants on two legs ran nimbly about, beating every body with hope probosces of inflated India rubber. Pretty girls in dominos abounded; every body whose face was visible was on the broad grin. All classes were represented. The wealthier nobles entered into the spirit of the scene with as great gusto as the humblest artisan who treated his obscure sweet-heart with an entrance ticket.
A Perplexed Senator.
[Illustration: A Perplexed Senator.]
Our friends all wore black dominos, "just for the fun of the thing." Every body knew that they were English or American, which is just the same; for Englishmen and Americans are universally recognizable by the rigidity of their muscles.
A bevy of masked beauties were attracted by the colossal form of the Senator. To say that he was bewildered would express his sensations but faintly. He was distracted. He looked for Buttons. Buttons was chatting with a little domino. He turned to Dick. Dick was walking off with a rhinoceros. To Figgs and the Doctor. Figgs and the Doctor were exchanging glances with a couple of lady codfishes and trying to look amiable. The Senator gave a sickly smile.
"What'n thunder'll I do?" he muttered.
Two dominos took either arm. A third stood smilingly before him. A fourth tried to appropriate his left hand.
"Will your Excellency dance with one of us at a time," said No. 4, with a Tuscan accent, "or will you dance with all of us at once?"
The Senator looked helplessly at her.
"He does not know how," said No 1. "He has passed his life among the stars."
"Begone, irreverent ones!" said No. 3. "This is an American prince. He said I should be his partner."
"Boh! malidetta!" cried No. 2. "He told me the same; but he said he was a Milor Inglese."
No. 4 thereupon gave a smart pull at the Senator's hand to draw him off. Whereupon No. 2 did the same. No. 3 began singing "Come e bello!" and No. 1 stood coaxing him to "Fly with her." A crowd of idlers gathered grinningly around.
"My goodness!" groaned the Senator. "Me! The--the representative of a respectable constituency; the elder of a Presbyterian church; the president of a temperance society; the deliverer of that famous Fourth of July oration; the father of a family--me! to be treated thus! Who air these females? Air they countesses? Is this the way the foreign nobility treat an American citizen?"
But the ladies pulled and the crowd grinned. The Senator endeavored to remonstrate. Then he tried to pull his arms away; but finding that impossible he looked in a piteous manner, first at one, and then at the other.
Exit Senator.
[Illustration: Exit Senator.]
"He wants, I tell you, to be my partner," said No. 1.
"Bah!" cried No. 2, derisively; "he intends to be mine. I understand the national dance of his country--the famous jeeg Irelandese."
"MRS.!!!"
The Senator shouted this one word in a stentorian voice. The ladies dropped his arms and started.
"I say, Mrs.!" cried the Senator. "Look here. Me no speeky _I_talian--me American. Me come just see zee fun, you know--zee spaort--you und-stand? Ha? Hum!"
The ladies clapped their hands, and cried "Bravo!"
Quite a crowd gathered around them. The Senator, impressed with the idea that, to make foreigners understand, it was only necessary to yell loud enough, bawled so loudly that ever so many dancers stopped. Among these Buttons came near with the little Domino. Little Domino stopped, laughed, clapped her hands, and pointed to the Senator.
The Senator was yelling vehemently in broken English to a large crowd of masks. He told them that he had a large family; that he owned a factory; that he was a man of weight, character, influence, popularity, wealth; that he came here merely to study their manners and customs. He disclaimed any intention to participate in their amusements just then, or to make acquaintances.--He would be proud to visit them all at their houses, or see them at his apartments, or--or--in short, would be happy to do any thing if they would only let him go in peace.
The crowd laughed, chattered, and shouted "Bravo!" at every pause. The Senator was covered with shame and perspiration. What would have become of him finally it is impossible to guess; but, fortunately, at this extremity he caught sight of Buttons. To dash away from the charming ladies, to burst through the crowd, and to seize the arm of Buttons was but the work of a moment.
"Buttons! Buttons! Buttons! Help me! These confounded _I_talian wimmin! Take them away. Tell them to leave me be. Tell them I don't know them--don't want to have them hanging round me. Tell them _I'm your father_!" cried the Senator, his voice rising to a shout in his distraction and alarm.
About 970 people were around him by this time.
"Goodness!" said Buttons; "you are in a fix. Why did you make yourself so agreeable? and to so many? Why, it's too bad. One at a time!"
"Buttons," said the Senator, solemnly, "is this the time for joking? For Heaven's sake get me away."
"Come then; you must run for it."
He seized the Senator's right arm. The little Domino clung to the other. Away they started. It was a full run. A shout arose. So arises the shout in Rome along the bellowing Corso when the horses are starting for the Carnival races. It was a long, loud shout, gathering and growing and deepening as it rose, till it burst on high in one grand thunder-clap of sound.
Away the Senator went like the wind. The dense crowd parted on either side with a rush. The Opera-house is several hundred feet in length. Down this entire distance the Senator ran, accompanied by Buttons and the little Domino. Crowds cheered him as he passed. Behind him the passage-way closed up, and a long trail of screaming maskers pressed after him. The louder they shouted the faster the Senator ran. At length they reached the other end.
"Do you see that box?" asked Buttons, pointing to one on the topmost tier.
"Yes, yes."
"Fly! Run for your life! It's your only hope. Get in there and hide till we go."
The Senator vanished. Scarcely had his coat-tails disappeared through the door when the pursuing crowd arrived there. Six thousand two hundred and twenty-seven human beings, dressed in every variety of costume, on finding that the runner had vanished, gave vent to their excited feelings by a loud cheer for the interesting American who had contributed so greatly to the evening's enjoyment.
Unlucky Senator! Will it be believed that even in the topmost box his pursuers followed him? It was even so. About an hour afterward Buttons, on coming near the entrance, encountered him. His face was pale but resolute, his dress disordered. He muttered a few words about "durned _I_talian countesses," and hurried out.
Buttons kept company with the little Domino. Never in his life had he passed so agreeable an evening. He took good care to let his companion know this. At length the crowd began to separate. The Domino would go. Buttons would go with her. Had she a carriage? No, she walked. Then he would walk with her.
Buttons tried hard to get a carriage, but all were engaged. But a walk would not be unpleasant in such company. The Domino did not complain. She was vivacious, brilliant, delightful, bewitching. Buttons had been trying all evening to find out who she was. In vain.
"Who in the world is she? I must find out, so that I may see her again." This was his one thought.
They approached the Strada Nuova.
"She is not one of the nobility at any rate, or she would not live here."
They turned up a familiar street.
"How exceedingly jolly! She can't live far away from
_First blood for Buttons_. Beppo considerably surprised. Rushed furiously at Buttons, arms flying everywhere, struck over Buttons's head. Buttons lightly made obeisance, and then fired a hundred-pounder on Beppo's left auricular, which had the effect of bringing him to the grass. _First knock down for Buttons_.
_2nd Round_.--Foreign population quite dumbfounded. Americans amused but not excited. One hundred to one on Buttons eagerly offered, but no takers. Beppo jumped to his feet like a wild cat. Eyes encircled with ebon aurioles, olfactory quite demolished. Made a rush at Buttons, who, being a member of the Dodge Club, dodged him, and landed a rattler on the jugular, which again sent foreign party to grass.
_3d Round_.--Nimble to the scratch. Beppo badly mashed and raving. Buttons unscathed and laughing; Beppo more cautious made a faint attempt to get into Buttons. No go. Tried a little sparing, which was summarily ended by a cannonade from Buttons directly in his countenance.
_4th Round_.--Foreigners wild. Yelling to their man to go in. Don't understand a single one of the rules of the P.R. Very benighted. Need missionaries. Evinced strong determination to go in themselves, but where checked by attitude of referee, who threatened to blow out brains of first man that interfered. Beppo's face magnified considerably. Appearance not at all prepossessing. Much distressed but furious. Made a bound at Buttons, who calmly, and without any apparent effort, met him with a terrific upper cut, which made the Italian's gigantic frame tremble like a ship under the stroke of a big wave. He tottered, and swung his arms, trying to regain his balance, when another annihilator most cleanly administered by Buttons laid him low. A great tumult rose among the foreigners. Beppo lay panting with no determination to come to the scratch. At the expiration of usual time, opponent not appearing. Buttons was proclaimed victor. Beppo very much mashed. Foreigners very greatly cowed. After waiting a short time Buttons resumed his garments and walked off with his friends.
The Mill At Paestum.
[Illustration: The Mill At Paestum.]
After the victory the travellers left Paestum on their return.
The road that turns off to Sorrento is the most beautiful in the world. It winds along the shore with innumerable turnings, climbing hills, descending into valleys, twining around precipices. There are scores of the prettiest villages under the sun, ivy-covered ruins, frowning fortresses, lofty towers, and elegant villas.
At last Sorrento smiles out from a valley which is proverbial for beauty, where, within its shelter of hills, neither the hot blast of midsummer nor the cold winds of winter can ever disturb its repose. This is the valley of perpetual spring, where fruits forever grow, and the seasons all blend together, so that the same orchard shows trees in blossom and bearing fruit.
CHAPTER X.
ON THE WATER, WHERE BUTTONS SEES A LOST IDEA AND GIVES CHASE TO IT, TOGETHER WITH THE HEART-SICKENING RESULTS THEREOF.
On the following morning Buttons and Dick went a little way out of town, and down the steep cliff toward the shore.
It was a classic spot. Here was no less a place than the cave of Polyphemus, where Homer, at least, may have stood, if Ulysses didn't. And here is the identical stone with which the giant was wont to block up the entrance to his cavern.
The sea rolled before. Away down to the right was Vesuvius, starting from which the eye took in the whole wide sweep of the shore, lined with white cities, with a background of mountains, till the land terminated in bold promontories.
Opposite was the Isle of Capri.
Myriads of white sails flashed across the sea. One of these arrested the attention of Buttons, and so absorbed him that he stared fixedly at it for half an hour without moving.
At length an exclamation burst from him:
"By Jove! It is! It is!"
"What is? What is?"
"The Spaniards!"
"Where?"
"In that boat."
"Ah!" said Dick, coolly, looking at the object pointed out by Buttons.
It was an English sail-boat, with a small cabin and an immense sail. In the stern were a gentleman and two ladies. Buttons was confident that they were the Spaniards.
The Spaniards.
[Illustration: The Spaniards.]
"Well," said Dick, "what's the use of getting so excited about it?"
"Why, I'm going back to Naples by water!"
"Are you? Then I'll go too. Shall we leave the others?"
"Certainly not, if they want to come with us."
Upon inquiry they found that the others had a strong objection to going by sea. Mr. Figgs preferred the ease of the carriage. The Doctor thought the sea air injurious. The Senator had the honesty to confess that he was afraid of seasickness. They would not listen to persuasion, but were all resolutely bent on keeping to the carriage.
Buttons exhibited a feverish haste in searching after a boat. There was but little to choose from among a crowd of odd-looking fishing-boats that crowded the shore. However, they selected the cleanest from among them, and soon the boat, with her broad sail spread, was darting over the sea.
The boat of which they went in pursuit was far away over near the other shore, taking long tacks across the bay. Buttons headed his boat so as to meet the other on its return tack.
It was a magnificent scene. After exhausting every shore view of Naples, there is nothing like taking to the water. Every thing then appears in a new light. The far, winding cities that surround the shore, the white villages, the purple Apennines, the rocky isles, the frowning volcano.
This is what makes Naples supreme in beauty. The peculiar combinations of scenery that are found there make rivalry impossible. For if you find elsewhere an equally beautiful bay, you will not have so liquid an atmosphere; if you have a shore with equal beauty of outline, and equal grace in its long sweep of towering headland and retreating slope, you will not have so deep a purple on the distant hills. Above all, nowhere else on earth has Nature placed in the very centre of so divine a scene the contrasted terrors of the black volcano.
Watching a chase is exciting; but taking part in it is much more so. Buttons had made the most scientific arrangements. He had calculated that at a certain point on the opposite shore the other boat would turn on a new tack, and that if he steered to his boat to a point about half-way over, he would meet them, without appearing to be in pursuit. He accordingly felt so elated at the idea that he burst forth into song.
The other boat at length had passed well over under the shadow of the land. It did not turn. Further and further over, and still it did not change its course. Buttons still kept the course which he had first chosen; but finding that he was getting far out of the way of the other boat, he was forced to turn the head of his boat closer to the wind, and sail slowly, watching the others.
There was an island immediately ahead of the other boat. What was his dismay at seeing it gracefully pass beyond the outer edge of the island, turn behind it, and vanish. He struck the taffrail furiously with his clenched hand. However, there was no help for it; so, changing his course, he steered in a straight line after the other, to where it had disappeared.
Now that the boat was out of sight Dick did not feel himself called on to watch. So he went forward into the bow, and made himself a snug berth, where he laid down; and lighting his pipe, looked dreamily out through a cloud of smoke upon the charming scene. The tossing of the boat and the lazy flapping of the sails had a soothing influence. His nerves owned the lulling power. His eyelids grew heavy and gently descended.
The wind and waves and islands and sea and sky, all mingled together in a confused mass, came before his mind. He was sailing on clouds, and chasing Spanish ladies through the sky. The drifting currents of the air bore them resistlessly along in wide and never-ending curves upward in spiral movements towards the zenith; and then off in ever-increasing speed, with ever-widening gyrations, toward the sunset, where the clouds grew red, and lazaroni grinned from behind--
A sudden bang of the huge sail struck by the wind, a wild creaking of the boom, and a smart dash of spray over the bows and into his face waked him from his slumber. He started up, half blinded, to look around. Buttons sat gazing over the waters with an expression of bitter vexation. They had passed the outer point of the island, and had caught a swift current, a chopping sea, and a brisk breeze. The other boat was nowhere to be seen. Buttons had already headed back again.
"I don't see the other boat," said Dick. Buttons without a word pointed to the left. There she was. She had gone quietly around the island, and had taken the channel between it and the shore. All the time that she had been hidden she was steadily increasing the distance between them.
"There's no help for it," said Dick, "but to keep straight after them."
Buttons did not reply, but leaned back with a sweet expression of patience. The two boats kept on in this way for a long time; but the one in which our friends had embarked was no match at all for the one they were pursuing. At every new tack this fact became more painfully evident. The only hope for Buttons was to regain by his superior nautical skill what he might lose. Those in the other boat had but little skill in sailing. These as length became aware that they were followed, and regarded their pursuers with earnest attention. It did not seem to have any effect.
"They know we are after them at last!" said Dick.
"I wonder if they can recognize us?"
"If they do they have sharp eyes. I'll be hanged if I can recognize them. I don't see how you can."
"Instinct, Dick--instinct!" said Buttons, with animation.
"What's that flashing in their boat?"
"That?" said Buttons. "It's a spy-glass. I didn't notice it before."
"I've seen it for the last half-hour."
"Then they most recognize us. How strange that they don't slacken a little! Perhaps we are not in full view. I will sit a little more out the shade of the sail, so that they can recognize me."
Accordingly Buttons moved out to a more conspicuous place, and Dick allowed himself to be more visible. Again the flashing brass was seen in the boat, and they could plainly perceive that it was passed from one to the other, while each took a long survey.
"They must be able to see us if they have any kind of a glass at all."
"I should think so," said Buttons, dolefully.
"Are you sure they are the Spaniards?"
"Oh! quite."
"Then I must say they might be a little more civil, and not keep us racing after them forever!"
"Oh, I don't know; I suppose they wouldn't like to sail close up to us."
"They needn't sail up to us, but they might give us a chance to hail them."
"I don't think the man they have with them looks like SeÑor Francia."
"Francia? Is that his name? He certainly looks larger. He is larger."
"Look!"
As Buttons spoke the boat ahead fell rapidly to leeward. The wind had fallen, and a current which they had struck upon bore them away. In the effort to escape from the current the boat headed toward Buttons, and when the wind again arose she continued to sail toward them. As they came nearer Buttons's face exhibited a strange variety of expressions.
A Thousand Pardons!
[Illustration: A Thousand Pardons!]
They met.
In the other boat sat two English ladies and a tall gentleman, who eyed the two young men fixedly, with a "stony British stare."
"A thousand pardons!" said Buttons, rising and bowing. "I mistook you for some acquaintances."
Whereupon the others smiled in a friendly way, bowed, and said something. A few commonplaces were interchanged, and the boats drifted away out of hearing.
CHAPTER XI.
THE SENATOR HAS SUCH A FANCY FOR SEEKING USEFUL INFORMATION!--CURIOUS POSITION OF A WISE, AND WELL-KNOWN, AND DESERVEDLY-POPULAR LEGISLATOR, AND UNDIGNIFIED MODE OF HIS ESCAPE.
It was not much after ten in the morning when Buttons and Dick returned. On reaching the hotel they found Mr. Figgs and the Doctor, who asked them if they had seen the Senator. To which they replied by putting the same question to their questioners.
He had not been seen since they had all been together last. Where was he?
Of course there was no anxiety felt about him, but still they all wished to have him near at hand, as it was about time for them to leave the town. The vetturino was already grumbling, and it required a pretty strong remonstrance from Buttons to silence him.
They had nothing to do but to wait patiently. Mr. Figgs and the Doctor lounged about the sofas. Buttons and Dick strolled about the town. Hearing strains of music as they passed the cathedral, they turned in there to listen to the service. Why there should be service, and full service too, they could not imagine.
"Can it be Sunday, Dick?" said Buttons, gravely.
"Who can tell?" exclaimed Dick, lost in wonder.
The cathedral was a small one, with nave and transept as usual, and in the Italian Gothic style. At the end of the nave stood the high altar, which was now illuminated with wax-candles, while priests officiated before it. At the right extremity of the transact was the organ-loft, a somewhat unusual position; while at the opposite end of the transept was a smaller door. The church was moderately filled. Probably there were as many people there as it ever had. They knelt on the floor with their faces toward the altar, Finding the nave somewhat crowded, Buttons and Dick went around to the door at the end of the transept, and entered there. A large space was empty as far as the junction with the nave. Into this the two young men entered, very reverently, and on coming near to the place where the other worshipers were they knelt down in the midst of them.
While looking before him, with his mind full of thoughts called up by the occasion, and while the grand music of one of Mozart's masses was filling his soul, Buttons suddenly felt his arm twitched. He turned. It was Dick.
Buttons was horrified. In the midst of this solemn scene the young man was convulsed with laughter. His features were working, his lips moving, as he tried to whisper something which his laughter prevented him from saying, and tears were in his eyes. At last he stuck his handkerchief in his mouth and bowed down very low, while his whole frame shook. Some of the worshipers near by looked scandalized, others shocked, others angry. Buttons felt vexed. At last Dick raised his face and rolled his eyes toward the organ-loft, and instantly bowed his head again. Buttons looked up mechanically, following the direction of Dick's glance. The next instant he too fell forward, tore his handkerchief out of his pocket, while his whole frame shook with the most painful convulsion of laughter.
And how dreadful is such a convulsion in a solemn place! In a church, amid worshipers; perhaps especially amid worshipers of another creed, for then one is suspected of offering deliberate insult. So it was here. People near saw the two young men, and darted angry looks at them.
Now what was it that had so excited two young men, who were by no means inclined to offer insult to any one, especially in religious matters?
It was this: As they looked up to the organ-loft they saw a figure there.
The organ projected from the wall about six feet; on the left side was the handle worked by the man who blew it, and a space for the choir. On the right was a small narrow space not more than about three feet wide, and it was in this space that they saw the figure which produced such an effect on them.
It was the Senator. He stood there erect, bare-headed of course, with confusion in his face and vexation and bewilderment. The sight of him was enough--the astonishing position of the man, in such a place at such a time. But the Senator was looking eagerly for help. And he had seen them enter, and all his soul was in his eyes, and all his eyes were fixed on those two.
As Dick looked up startled and confounded at the sight, the Senator projected his head as far forward as he dared, frowned, nodded, and then began working his lips violently as certain deaf and dumb people do, who converse by such movements, and can understand what words are said by the shape of the mouth in uttering them. But the effect was to make the Senator buck like a man who was making grimaces, to wager, like those in Victor Hugo's "Notre Dame." As such the apparition was so over-powering that neither Buttons nor Dick dared to look up for some time. What made it worse, each was conscious that the other was laughing, so that self-control was all the more difficult. Worse still, each knew that this figure in the organ-loft was watching them with his hungry glance, ready the moment that they looked up to begin his grimaces once more.
"That poor Senator!" thought Buttons; "how did he get there? Oh, how did he get there?"
Yet how could he be rescued? Could he be? No. He must wait till the service should be over.
Meanwhile the young men mustered sufficient courage to look up again, and after a mighty struggle to gaze upon the Senator for a few seconds at a time at least. There he stood, projecting forward his anxious face, making faces as each one looked up.
The Senator.
[Illustration: The Senator.]
Now the people in the immediate vicinity of the two young men had noticed their agitation as has already been stated, and, moreover, they had looked up to see the cause of it. They too saw the Senator. Others again, seeing their neighbors looking up, did the same, until at last all in the transept were staring up at the odd-looking stranger.
As Buttons and Dick looked up, which they could not help doing often, the Senator would repeat his mouthings, and nods, and becks, and looks of entreaty. The consequence was, that the people thought the stranger was making faces at them. Three hundred and forty-seven honest people of Sorrento thus found themselves shamefully insulted in their own church by a barbarous foreigner, probably an Englishman, no doubt a heretic. The other four hundred and thirty-six who knelt in the nave knew nothing about it. They could not see the organ-loft at all. The priests at the high altar could not see it, so that they were uninterrupted in their duties. The singers in the organ-loft saw nothing, for the Senator was concealed from their view. Those therefore who saw him were the people in the transept, who now kept staring fixedly, and with angry eyes, at the man in the loft.
There was no chance of getting him out of that before the service was over, and Buttons saw that there might be a serious tumult when the Senator came down among that wrathful crowd. Every moment made it worse. Those in the nave saw the agitation of those in the transept, and got some idea of the cause.
At last the service was ended; the singers departed, the priests retired, but the congregation remained. Seven hundred and eighty-three human beings waiting to take vengeance on the miscreant who had thrown ridicule on the Holy Father by making faces at the faithful as they knelt in prayer. Already a murmur arose on every side.
"A heretic! A heretic! A blasphemer! He has insulted us!"
Buttons saw that a bold stroke alone could save them. He burst into the midst of the throng followed by Dick.
"Fly!" he cried. "Fly for your lives! _It is a madman_! Fly! Fly!"
A loud cry of terror arose. Instantaneous conviction flashed on the minds of all. A madman! Yes. He could be nothing else.
A panic arose. The people recoiled from before that terrible madman. Buttons sprang up to the loft. He seized the Senator's arm and dragged him down. The people fled in horror. As the Senator emerged he saw seven hundred and eighty-three good people of Sorrento scampering away like the wind across the square in front of the cathedral.
On reaching the hotel he told his story. He had been peering about in search of useful information, and had entered the cathedral. After going through every part he went up into the organ-loft. Just then the singers came. Instead of going out like a man, he dodged them from some absurd cause or other, with a half idea that he would get into trouble for intruding. The longer he stayed the worse it was for him. At last he saw Buttons and Dick enter, and tried to make signals.
"Well," said Buttons, "we had better leave. The Sorrentonians will be around here soon to see the maniac. They will find out all about him, and make us acquainted with Lynch law."
In a quarter of an hour more they were on their way back to Naples.
CHAPTER XII.
HERCULANEUM AND POMPEII, AND ALL THAT THE SIGHT OF THOSE FAMOUS PLACES PRODUCED ON THE MINDS OF THE DODGE CLUB.
They had already visited Herculaneum, but the only feeling which had been awakened by the sight of that ill-fated city was one of unmitigated disgust. As honesty was the chief characteristic of the whole party, they did not hesitate to express themselves with the utmost freedom on this subject. They hoped for better things from Pompeii. At any rate Pompeii was above ground; what might be there would be visible. No fuss with torches. No humbugging with lanterns. No wandering through long black passages. No mountains bringing forth mice.
Their expectations were encouraged as they walked up the street of Tombs leading to the Herculaneum Gate. Tombs were all around, any quantity, all sizes, little black vaults full of pigeon-holes. These they narrowly examined, and when the guide wasn't looking they filled their pockets with the ashes of the dead.
"Strange," quoth the Senator, musingly, "that these ancient Pompey fellers should pick out this kind of a way of getting buried. This must be the reason why people speak of urns and ashes when they speak of dead people."
Villa Of Diomedes.
[Illustration: Villa Of Diomedes.]
They walked through the Villa of Diomedes. They were somewhat disappointed. From guide-books, and especially from the remarkably well-got-up Pompeian court at Sydenham Palace, Buttons had been led to expect something far grander. But in this, the largest house in the city, what did he find? Mites of rooms, in fact closets, in which even a humble modern would find himself rather crowded. There was scarcely a decent-sized apartment in the whole establishment, as they all indignantly declared. The cellars were more striking. A number of earthern vessels of enormous size were in one corner.
"What are these?" asked the Senator.
"Wine jars."
"What?"
"Wine jars. They didn't use wooden casks."
"The more fools they. Now do you mean to say that wooden casks are not infinitely more convenient than these things that can't stand up without they are leaned against the wall? Pho!"
At one corner the guide stopped, and pointing down, said something.
"What does he say?" asked the Senator.
"He says if you want to know how the Pompeians got choked, stoop down and smell that. Every body who comes here is expected to smell this particular spot, or he can't say that he has seen Pompeii."
Phew!
[Illustration: Phew!]
So down went the five on their knees, and up again faster than they went down. With one universal shout of: "Phew-w-w-w-w-h-h-h!"
It was a torrent of sulphurous vapor that they inhaled.
"Now, I suppose," said the Senator, as soon as he could speak, "that that there comes direct in a bee-line through a subterranean tunnel right straight from old Vesuvius."
"Yes, and it was this that suggested the famous scheme for extinguishing the volcano."
"How? What famous scheme?"
"Why, an English stock-broker came here last year, and smelled this place, as every one must do. An idea struck him. He started up. He ran off without a word. He went straight to London. There he organized a company. They propose to dig a tunnel from the sea to the interior of the mountain. When all is ready they will let in the water. There will be a tremendous hiss. The volcano will belch out steam for about six weeks; but the result will be that the fires will be put out forever."
From the Villa of Diomedes they went to the gate where the guard-house is seen. Buttons told the story of the sentinel who died there on duty, embellishing it with a few new features of an original character.
"Now that may be all very well," said the Senator, "but don't ask me to admire that chap, or the Roman army, or the system. It was all hollow. Why, don't you see the man was a blockhead? He hadn't sense enough to see that when the whole place was going to the dogs, it was no good stopping to guard it. He'd much better have cleared out and saved his precious life for the good of his country. Do you suppose a Yankee would act that way?"
"I should suppose not."
"That man, Sir, was a machine, and nothing more. A soldier must know something else than merely obeying orders."
By this time they had passed through the gate and stood inside. The street opened before them for a considerable distance with houses on each side. Including the sidewalks it might have been almost twelve feet wide. As only the lower part of the walls of the houses was standing, the show that they made was not imposing. There was no splendor in the architecture or the material, for the style of the buildings was extremely simple, and they were made with brick covered with stucco.
After wandering silently through the streets the Senator at length burst forth:
"I say it's an enormous imposition!"
"What?" inquired Buttons, faintly.
"Why, the whole system of Cyclopedias, Panoramas, Books of Travel, Woodbridge's Geography, Sunday-school Books--"
"What do you mean?"
"I mean the descriptions they give of this place. The fellows who write about it get into the heroics, and what with their descriptions, and pictures, and moralizing, you believe it is a second Babylon. It don't seem possible for any of them to tell the truth. Why, there isn't a single decent-sized house in the place. Oh, it's small! it's small!"
"It certainly might be larger."
"I know," continued the Senator, with a majestic wave of his hand--"I know that I'm expected to find this here scene very impressive; but I'll be hanged if I'm satisfied. Why, in the name of Heaven, when they give us pictures of the place, can't they make things of the right size? Why, I've seen a hundred pictures of that gate. They make it look like a triumphant arch; and now that I'm here, durn me if I can't touch the top of it when I stand on tiptoe."
In all his walk the Senator found only one thing that pleased him. This was the celebrated Pompeian institution of a shop under the dwelling-house.
"Whenever I see any signs of any thing like trade among these ancients," said he, "I respect them. And what is more satisfactory than to see a bake-shop or an eating-saloon in the lower story of a palace?"
Their walk was terminated by the theatre and amphitheatre. The sight of these were more satisfactory to the Senator.
"Didn't these fellows come it uncommon strong though in the matter of shows?" he asked, with considerable enthusiasm. "Hey? Why, we haven't got a single travelling circus, menagerie and all, that could come any way near to this. After all, this town might have looked well enough when it was all bran-new and painted up. It might have looked so then; but, by thunder! it looks any thing but that now. What makes me mad is to see every traveller pretend to get into raptures about it now. Raptures be hanged! I ask you, as a sensible man, is there any thing here equal to any town of the same population in Massachusetts?"
A Street In Pompeii.
[Illustration: A Street In Pompeii.]
Although the expectations which he had formed were not quite realized, yet Buttons found much to excite interest after the first disappointment had passed away. Dick excited the Senator's disgust by exhibiting those, raptures which the latter had condemned.
The Doctor went by the Guide-book altogether, and regulated his emotions accordingly. Having seen the various places enumerated there, he wished no more. As Buttons and Dick wished to stroll further among the houses, the other three waited for them in the amphitheatre, where the Senator beguiled the time by giving his "idee" of an ancient show.
It was the close of day before the party left. At the outer barrier an official politely examined them. The result of the examination was that the party was compelled to disgorge a number of highly interesting souvenirs, consisting of lava, mosaic stones, ashes, plaster, marble chips, pebbles, bricks, a bronze hinge, a piece of bone, a small rag, a stick, etc.
The official apologized with touching politeness: "It was only a form," he said. "Yet we must do it. For look you, Signori," and here he shrugged up his shoulders, rolled his eyes, and puffed out his lips in a way that was possible to none but an Italian, "were it not thus the entire city would be carried away piecemeal!"
CHAPTER XIII.
VESUVIUS.--WONDERFUL ASCENT OF THE CONE.--WONDERFUL DESCENT INTO THE CRATER.--AND MOST WONDERFUL DISAPPEARANCE OF MR. FIGGS, AFTER WHOM ALL HIS FRIENDS GO, WITH THEIR LIVES IN THEIR HANDS.--GREAT SENSATION AMONG SPECTATORS.
To every visitor to Naples the most prominent object is Vesuvius. The huge form of the volcano forever stands before him. The long pennon of smoke from its crater forever floats out triumphantly in the air. Not in the landscape only, but in all the picture-shops. In these establishments they really seem to deal in nothing but prints and paintings of Vesuvius.
It was a lovely morning when a carriage, filled with Americans, drew up on an inn near the foot of the mountain. There were guides without number waiting, like beasts of prey, to fall on them; and all the horses of the country--a wonderful lot--an amazing lot--a lean, cranky, raw-boned, ill-fed, wall-eyed, ill-natured, sneaking, ungainly, half-foundered, half-starved lot; afflicted with all the diseases that horse-flesh is heir to. There were no others, so but little time was wasted. All were on an equal footing. To have a preference was out of the question, so they amused themselves with picking out the ugliest.
When the horses were first brought out Mr. Figgs looked uneasy, and made some mysterious remarks about walking. He thought such nags were an imposition. He vowed they could go faster on foot. On foot! The others scouted the idea. Absurd! Perhaps he wasn't used to such beasts. Never mind. He mustn't be proud. Mr. Figgs, however, seemed to have reasons which were strictly private, and announced his intention of walking. But the others would not hear of such a thing. They insisted. They forced him to mount. This Mr. Figgs at length accomplished, though he got up on the wrong side, and nearly pulled his horse over backward by pulling at the curb-rein, shouting all th
The Doctor sprang up, seized Figgs's man by throat, just as he staggered back, and brought him down.
The whole thing had been done in an incredibly short time. The robbers had been taken by complete surprise. In strength they were far inferior to their assailants. Attacked as they were so unexpectedly the success of the Americans was not very wonderful. The uproar was tremendous. The women were most noisy. At first all were paralyzed. Then wild shrieks rang through the hall. They yelled, they shouted, they wrung their hands.
The four bandits at the end of the hall stood for a moment horror-struck. Then they raised their guns. But they dared not fire. They might shoot their own men. Suddenly Dick, who had got the gun which he wished, looked at the door, and seeing the guns levelled he fired the revolver. A loud scream followed. One of the men fell. The women rushed to take care of him. The other three ran off.
"Doctor," said the Senator, "have you a rope? Tie that man's hands behind him."
The Doctor took his handkerchief, twisted it, and tied the man's hands as neatly and as firmly as though they were in handcuffs. He then went to Buttons, got a handkerchief from him, and tied up his man in the same way. Then Dick's man was bound. At that moment a bullet fired through one of the windows grazed the head of Mr. Figgs.
"Dick," said the Senator, "go out and keep guard."
Dick at once obeyed. The women screamed and ran as he came along.
Then the two men whom the Senator had captured were bound. After a while some pieces of rope and leather straps were found by Buttons. With these all the bandits were secured more firmly. The men whom the Senator had captured were almost lifeless from the tremendous weight of his manly form. They made their captives squat down in one corner, while the others possessed themselves of their guns and watched them. The wretches looked frightened out of their wits. They were Neapolitans and peasants, weak, feeble, nerveless.
"It's nothing to boast of," said the Senator, contemptuously, as he looked at the slight figures. "They're a poor lot--small, no muscle, no spirit, no nothing."
The poor wretches now began to whine and cry.
"Oh, Signore," they cried, appealing to Buttons. "Spare our lives!"
At that the whole crowd of women came moaning and screaming.
"Back!" said Buttons.
"Oh, Signori, for the sake of Heaven spare them, spare our husbands!"
"Back, all of you! We won't hurt any one if you all keep quiet."
The women went sobbing back again. The Doctor then went to look at the wounded man by the door. The fellow was trembling and weeping. All Italians weep easily.
The Doctor examined him and found it was only a flesh wound. The women were full of gratitude as the Doctor bound up his arm after probing the wound, and lifted the man on a rude couch. From time to time Dick would look in at the door to see how things were going on. The field was won.
"Well," said the Senator, "the other three have probably run for it. They may bring others back. At any rate we had better hurry off. We are armed now, and can be safe. But what ought we to do with these fellows?"
"Nothing," said Buttons.
"Nothing?"
"No. They probably belong to the 'Camorra,' a sort of legalized brigandage, and if had them all put in prison they would be let out the next day."
"Well, I must say I'd rather not. They're a mean lot, but I don't wish them any harm. Suppose we make them take us out to the road within sight of the city, and then let them go?"
"Well."
The others all agreed to this.
"We had better start at once then."
"For my part," said Mr. Figgs, "I think we had much better get some thing to eat before we go--"
"Pooh! We can get a good dinner in Naples. We may have the whole country around us if we wait, and though I don't care for myself, yet I wouldn't like to see one of you fall, boys."
So it was decided to go at once. One man still was senseless. He was left to the care of the women after being resuscitated by the Doctor. The Captain and four bandits were taken away.
"Attend," said Buttons, sternly. "You must show us the nearest way to Naples. If you deceive us you die. If you show us our way we may perhaps let you go."
The women all crowded around their husbands, screaming and yelling. In Vain. Buttons told them there was no danger. At last he said--
"You come along too, and make them show us the way. You will then return here with them. The sooner the better. Haste!"
The women gladly assented to this.
Accordingly they all started, each one of the Americans carrying a gun in one hand, and holding the arm of a bandit with the other. The women went ahead of their own accord, eager to put an end to their fears by getting rid of such dangerous guests. After a walk of about half an hour they came to the public road which ran near to the sea.
"I thought I smelt the sea-air," said Dick.
They had gone by the other side of Vesuvius.
"This is the road to Naples, Signori," said the women.
"Ah! And you won't feel safe till you get the men away. Very well, you may go. We can probably take care of ourselves now."
The women poured forth a torrent of thanks and blessings. The men were then allowed to go, and instantly vanished into the darkness. At first it was quite dark, but after a while the moon arose and they walked merrily along, though very hungry.
Before they reached their hotel it was about one o'clock. Buttons and Dick stared there. As they were all sitting over the repast which they forced the landlord to get for them, Dick suddenly struck his hand on the table.
"Sold!" he cried.
"What?"
"They've got our handkerchiefs."
"Handkerchiefs!" cried Mr. Figgs, ruefully, "why, I forgot to get back my purse."
Sold.
[Illustration: Sold.]
"Your purse! Well, let's go out to-morrow--"
"Pooh! It's no matter. There were only three piastres in it. I keep my circular bill and larger money elsewhere."
"Well they made something of us after all. Three piastres and five handkerchiefs."
The Senator frowned. "I've a precious good mind to go out there to-morrow and make them disgorge," said he. "I'll think it over."
CHAPTER XV.
DOLORES ONCE MORE.--A PLEASANT CONVERSATION.--BUTTONS LEARNS MORE OF HIS YOUNG FRIEND.--AFFECTING FAREWELL.
As the Club intended to leave for Rome almost immediately, the two young men in the Strado di San Bartollo were prepared to settle with their landlord.
When Buttons and Dick packed up their modest valises there was a general excitement in the house; and when they called for their little bill it appeared, and the whole family along with it. The landlord presented it with a neat bow. Behind him stood his wife, his left the big dragoon. And on his right Dolores.
Such was the position which the enemy took up.
Buttons took up the paper and glanced at it.
"What is this?"
"Your bill."
"My bill?"
"Yes, Signore."
"Yes," repeated Dolores, waving her little hand at Buttons.
Something menacing appeared in the attitude and tone of Dolores. Had she changed? Had she joined the enemy? What did all this mean?
"What did you say you would ask for this room when I came here?" Buttons at length asked.
"I don't recollect naming any price," said the landlord, evasively.
"I recollect," said Dolores, decidedly. "He didn't name any price at all."
"Good Heavens!" cried Buttons, aghast, and totally unprepared for this on the part of Dolores, though nothing on the part of the landlord could have astonished him. In the brief space of three weeks that worthy had been in the habit of telling him on an average about four hundred and seventy-seven downright lies per day.
"You told me," said Buttons, with admirable calmness, "that it would be two piastres a week."
"Two piastres! Two for both of you! Impossible! You might as well say I was insane."
"Two piastres!" echoed Dolores, in indignant tones--"only think! And for this magnificent apartment! the best in the house--elegantly furnished, and two gentlemen! Why, what is this that he means?"
"Et tu Brute!" sighed Buttons.
"Signore!" said Dolores.
"Didn't he, Dick?'"
"He did," said Dick; "of course he did."
"Oh, that _uomicciuolo_ will say any thing," said Dolores, contemptuously snapping her fingers in Dick's face.
"Why, Signore. Look you. How is it possible? Think what accommodations! Gaze upon that bed! Gaze upon that furniture! Contemplate that prospect of the busy street!"
"Why, it's the most wretched room in town," cried Buttons. "I've been ashamed to ask my friends here."
"Ah, wretch!" cried Dolores, with flashing eyes. "You well know that you were never so well lodged at home. This miserable! This a room to be ashamed of! Away, American savage! And your friends, who are they? Do you lodge with the lazaroni?"
"You said that you would charge two piastres. I will pay no more; no, not half a carline. How dare you send me a bill for eighteen piastres? I will pay you six piastres for the three weeks. Your bill for eighteen is a cheat. I throw it away. Behold!"
And Buttons, tearing the paper into twenty fragments, scattered them over the floor.
"Ah!" cried Dolores, standing before him, with her arms folded, and her face all aglow with beautiful anger; "you call it a cheat, do you? You would like, would you not, to run off and pay nothing? That is the custom, I suppose, in America. But you can not do that in this honest country."
"Signore, you may tear up fifty bills, but you must pay," said the landlord, politely.
"If you come to travel you should bring money enough to take you along," said Dolores.
"Then I would not have to take lodgings fit only for a Sorrento beggar," said Buttons, somewhat rudely.
"They are too good for an American beggar," rejoined Dolores, taking a step nearer to him, and slapping her little hands together by way of emphasis.
"Is this the maid," thought Buttons, "that hung so tenderly on my arm at the masquerade? the sweet girl who has charmed so many evenings with her innocent mirth. Is this the fair young creature who--"
"Are you going to pay, or do you think you can keep us waiting forever?" cried the fair young creature, impatiently and sharply.
"No more than six piastres," replied Buttons.
"Be reasonable, Signore. Be reasonable," said the landlord, with a conciliatory smile; "and above all, be calm--be calm. Let us have no contention. I feel that these honorable American gentlemen have no wish but to act justly," and he looked benignantly at his family.
"I wish I could feel the same about these Italians," said Buttons.
"You will soon feel that these Italians are determined to have their due," said Dolores.
"They shall have their due and no more."
"Come, Buttons," said Dick, in Italian, "let us leave this old rascal."
"Old rascal?" hissed Dolores, rushing up toward Dick as though she would tear his eyes out, and stamping her little foot. "Old rascal! Ah, piccolo Di-a-vo-lo!"
"Come," said the landlord; "I have affection for you. I wish to satisfy you. I have always tried to satisfy and please you."
"The ungrateful ones!" said Dolores. "Have we not all been as friendly to them as we never were before? And now they try like vipers to sting us."
"Peace, Dolores," said the landlord, majestically. "Let us all be very friendly. Come, good American gentlemen, let us have peace. What now _will_ you pay?"
"Stop!" cried Dolores. "Do you bargain? Why, they will try and make you take a half a carline for the whole three weeks. I am ashamed of you. I will not consent."
Two Piastres!
[Illustration: Two Piastres!]
"How much will you give?" said the landlord, once more, without heeding his daughter.
"Six piastres," said Buttons.
"Impossible!"
"When I came here I took good care to have it understood. You distinctly said two piastres per week. You may find it very convenient to forget. I find it equally convenient to remember."
"Try--try hard, and perhaps you will remember that we offered to take nothing. Oh yes, nothing--absolutely nothing. Couldn't think of it," said Dolores, with a multitude of ridiculous but extremely pretty gestures, that made the little witch charming even in her rascality.--"Oh yes, nothing"--a shrug of the shoulders --"we felt so honored"--spreading out her hands and bowing.--"A great American!--a noble foreigner!"--folding her arms, and strutting up and down.--"Too much happiness!"--here her voice assumed a tone of most absurd sarcasm.--"We wanted to entertain them all the rest of our lives for nothing"--a ridiculous grimace--"or perhaps your sweet conversation has been sufficient pay--ha?" and she pointed her little rosy taper finger at Buttons as though she would transfix him.
Buttons sighed. "Dolores!" said he, "I always thought _you_ were my friend. I didn't think that you would turn against me."
"Ah, infamous one! and foolish too! Did you think that I could ever help you to cheat my poor parents? Was this the reason why you sought me? Dishonest one! I am only an innocent girl, but I can understand your villainy."
"I think you understand a great many things," said Buttons, mournfully.
"And to think that one would seek my friendship to save his money!"
Buttons turned away. "Suppose I stayed here three weeks longer, how much would you charge?" he asked the landlord.
That worthy opened his eyes. His face brightened.
"Three weeks longer? Ah--I--Well--Perhaps--"
"Stop!" cried Dolores, placing her hand over her father's mouth--"not a word. Don't you understand? He don't want to stay three minutes longer. He wants to get you into a new bargain, and cheat you."
"Ah!" said the landlord, with a knowing wink. "But, my child, you are really too harsh. You must not mind her, gentlemen. She's only a willful young girl--a spoiled child--a spoiled child."
"Her language is a little strong," said Buttons, "but I don't mind what she says."
"You may deceive my poor, kind, simple, honest, unsuspecting father," said she, "but you can't deceive me."
"Probably not."
"Buttons, hadn't we better go?" said Dick; "squabbling here won't benefit us."
"Well," said Buttons, slowly, and with a lingering look at Dolores.
But as Dolores saw them stoop to take their valises she sprang to the door-way.
"They're going! They're going!" she cried. "And they will rob us. Stop them."
"Signore," said Buttons, "here are six piastres. I leave them on the table. You will get no more. If you give me any trouble I will summon you before the police for conspiracy against a traveller. You can't cheat me. You need not try."
So saying, he quietly placed the six piastres on the table, and advanced toward the door.
"Signore! Signore!" cried the landlord, and he put himself in his way. At a sign from Dolores the big dragoon came also, and put himself behind her.
"You shall not go," she cried. "You shall never pass through this door till you pay."
"Who is going to stop us?" said Buttons.
"My father, and this brave soldier who is armed," said Dolores, in a voice to which she tried to give a terrific emphasis.
"Then I beg leave to say this much," said Buttons; and he looked with blazing eyes full in the face of the "brave soldier." "I am not a 'brave soldier,' and I am not armed; but my friend and I have paid our bills, and we are going through that door. If you dare to lay so much as the weight of your finger on me I'll show you how a man can use his fists."
Now the Continentals have a great and a wholesome dread of the English fist, and consider the American the same flesh and blood. They believe that "le bogues" is a necessary, part of the education of the whole Anglo-Saxon race, careful parents among that people being intent upon three things for their children, to wit:
(1.) To eat _Rosbif_ and _Bifiek_, but especially the former.
(2.) To use certain profane expressions, by which the Continental can always tell the Anglo-Saxon.
(3.) TO STRIKE FROM THE SHOULDER!!!
Consequently, when Buttons, followed by Dick, advanced to the door, the landlord and the "brave soldier" slipped aside, and actually allowed them to pass.
Not so Dolores.
She tried to hound her relatives on; she stormed; she taunted them; she called them cowards; she even went so far as to run after Buttons and seize his valise. Whereupon that young gentleman patiently waited without a word till she let go her hold. He then went on his way.
Arriving at the foot of the stairway he looked back. There was the slender form of the young girl quivering with rage.
"Addio, Dolores!" in the most mournful of voices.
"Scelerato!" was the response, hissed out from the prettiest of lips.
The next morning the Dodge Club left Naples.
The Brave Soldier.
[Illustration: The Brave Soldier.]
CHAPTER XVI.
DICK RELATES A FAMILY LEGEND.
"Dick," said the Senator, as they rolled over the road, "spin a yarn to beguile the time."
Dick looked modest.
The rest added their entreaties.
"Oh, well," said Dick, "since you're so very urgent it would be unbecoming to refuse. A story? Well, what? I will tell you about my maternal grandfather.
"My maternal grandfather, then, was once out in Hong Kong, and had saved up a little money. As the climate did not agree with him he thought he would come home; and at length an American ship touched there, on board of which he went, and he saw a man in the galley; so my grandfather stepped up to him and asked him:
"'Are you the mate?'
"'No. I'm the man that boils the _mate_,' said the other, who was also an Irishman.
"So he had to go to the cabin, where he found the Captain and mate writing out clearance papers for the custom-house.
"'Say, captain, will you cross the sea to plow the raging main?' asked my grandfather.
"'Oh, the ship it is ready and the wind is fair to plow the raging main!' said the captain. Of course my grandfather at once paid his fare without asking credit, and the amount was three hundred and twenty-seven dollars thirty-nine cents.
"Well, they set sail, and after going ever so many thousand miles, or hundred--I forget which, but it don't matter--a great storm arose, a typhoon or simoon, perhaps both; and after slowly gathering up its energies for the space of twenty-nine days, seven hours, and twenty-three minutes, without counting the seconds, it burst upon them at exactly forty-two minutes past five, on the sixth day of the week. Need I say that day was Friday? Now my grandfather saw all the time how it was going to end; and while the rest were praying and shrieking he had cut the lashings of the ship's long-boat and stayed there all the time, having put on board the nautical instruments, two or three fish-hooks, a gross of lucifer matches, and a sauce-pan. At last the storm struck the ship, as I have stated, and at the first crack away went the vessel to the bottom, leaving my grandfather floating alone on the surface of the ocean.
"My grandfather navigated the long-boat fifty-two days, three hours, and twenty minutes by the ship's chronometer; caught plenty of fish with his fish-hooks; boiled sea-water in his sauce-pan, and boiled all the salt away, making his fire in the bottom of the boat, which is a very good place, for the fire can't burn through without touching the water, which it can't burn; and finding plenty of fuel in the boat, which he gradually dismantled, taking first the thole-pins, then the seats, then the taffrail, and so on. This sort of thing, though, could not last forever, and at last, just in the nick of time, he came across a dead whale.
"It was floating bottom upward, covered with barnacles of very large size indeed; and where his fins projected there were two little coves, one on each side. Into the one on the lee-side he ran his boat, of which there was nothing left but the stem and stern and two side planks.
"My grandfather looked upon the whale as an island. It was a very nice country to one who had been so long in a boat, though a little monotonous. The first thing that he did was to erect the banner of his country, of which he happened to have a copy on his pocket-handkerchief; which he did by putting it at the end of an oar and sticking it in the ground, or the flesh, whichever you please to call it. He then took an observation, and proceeded to make himself a house, which he did by whittling up the remains of the long-boat, and had enough left to make a table, a chair, and a boot-jack. So here he stayed, quite comfortable, for forty-three days and a half, taking observations all the time with great accuracy; and at the end of that time all his house was gone, for he had to cut it up for fuel to cook his meals, and nothing was left but half of the boot-jack and the oar which served to uphold the banner of his country. At the end of this time a ship came up.
"The men of the ship did not know what on earth to make of this appearance on the water, where the American flag was flying. So they bore straight down toward it.
"'I see a sight across the sea, hi ho cheerly men!' remarked the captain to the mate, in a confidential manner.
"'Methinks it is my own countrie, hi ho cheerly men!' rejoined the other, quietly.
"'It rises grandly o'er the brine, hi ho cheerly men!' said the captain.
"'And bears aloft our own ensign, hi ho cheerly men!' said the mate.
"As the ship came up my grandfather placed both hands to his mouth in the shape of a speaking-trumpet, and cried out: 'Ship ahoy across the wave, with a way-ay-ay-ay-ay! Storm along!'
"To which the captain of the ship responded through his trumpet: 'Tis I, my messmate bold and brave, with a way-ay-ay-ay-ay! Storm along."
"At this my grandfather inquired; 'What vessel are you gliding on? Pray tell to me its name.'
"And the captain replied: 'Our bark it is a whaler bold, and Jones the captain's name.'
"Thereupon the captain came on board the whale, or on shore, whichever you like--I don't know which, nor does it matter--he came, at any rate. My grandfather shook hands with him and asked him to sit down. But the captain declined, saying he preferred standing.
"'Well,' said my grandfather, 'I called on you to see if you would like to buy a whale.'
Buying A Whale.
[Illustration: Buying A Whale.]
"'Wa'al, yes, I don't mind. I'm in that line myself.'
"'What'll you give for it?'
"'What'll you take for it?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"Twenty-five minutes were taken up in the repetition of this question, for neither wished to commit himself.
"'Have you had any offers for it yet?' asked Captain Jones at last.
"'Wa'al, no; can't say that I have.'
"'I'll give as much as any body.'
"'How much?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"Then my grandfather, after a long deliberation, took the captain by the arm and led him all around, showing him the country, as one may say, enlarging upon the fine points, and doing as all good traders are bound to do when they find themselves face to face with a customer.
"To which the end was:
"'Wa'al, what'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'What'll you take?'
"'What'll you give?'
"'Well,' said my grandfather, 'I don't know as I care about trading after all. I think I'll wait till the whaling fleet comes along. I've been waiting for them for some time, and they ought to be here soon.'
"'You're not in the right track,' said Captain Jones.
"'Yes, I am.'
"'Excuse me.'
"'Ex-cuse _me_,' said my grandfather. 'I took an observation just before you came in sight, and I am in lat. 47° 22' 20", long. 150° 15' 55".'
"Captain Jones's face fell. My grandfather poked him in the ribs and smiled.
"'I'll tell you what I'll do, as I don't care, after all, about waiting here. It's a little damp, and I'm subject to rheumatics. I'll let you have the whole thing if you give me twenty-five per cent. of the oil after it's barreled, barrels and all.'
"The captain thought for a moment.
"'You drive a close bargain.'
"'Of course.'
"'Well, it'll save a voyage, and that's something.'
"'Something! Bless your heart! ain't that every thing?'
"'Well, I'll agree. Come on board, and we'll make out the papers.'
"So my grandfather went on board, and they made out the papers; and the ship hauled up alongside of the whale, and they went to work cutting, and slashing, and hoisting, and burning, and boiling, and at last, after ever so long a time--I don't remember exactly how long--the oil was all secured, and my grandfather, in a few months afterward, when he landed at Nantucket and made inquiries, sold his share of the oil for three thousand nine hundred and fifty-six dollars fifty-six cents, which he at once invested in business in New Bedford, and started off to Pennsylvania to visit his mother. The old lady didn't know him at all, he was so changed by sun, wind, storm, hardship, sickness, fatigue, want, exposure, and other things of that kind. She looked coldly on him.
"'Who are you?'
"'Don't you know?'
"'No.'
"'Think.'
"'_Have you a strawberry on your arm_?'
"'No.'
"'Then--you are--_you are_--YOU ARE--my own--my long--lost son!'
The Long-Lost Son.
[Illustration: The Long-Lost Son.]
"And she caught him in her arms.
"Here endeth the first part of my grandfather's adventures, but he had many more, good and bad; for he was a remarkable man, though I say it; and if any of you ever want to hear more about him, which I doubt, all you've got to do is to say so. But perhaps it's just as well to let the old gentleman drop, for his adventures were rather strange; but the narration of them is not very profitable, not that I go in for the utilitarian theory of conversation; but I think, on the whole, that, in story-telling, fiction should be preferred to dull facts like these, and so the next time I tell a story I will make one up."
The Club had listened to the story with the gravity which should be manifested toward one who is relating family matters. At its close the Senator prepared to speak. He cleared his throat:
"Ahem! Gentlemen of the Club! our adventures, thus far, have not been altogether contemptible. We have a President and a Secretary; ought we not also to have a Recording Secretary--a Historian?"
"Ay!" said all, very earnestly.
"Who, then, shall it be?"
All looked at Dick.
"I see there is but one feeling among us all," said the Senator. "Yes, Richard, you are the man. Your gift of language, your fancy, your modesty, your fluency--But I spare you. From this time forth you know your duty."
Overcome by this honor, Dick was compelled to bow his thanks in silence and hide his blushing face.
"And now," said Mr. Figgs, eagerly, "I want to hear _the Higgins Story_."
The Doctor turned frightfully pale. Dick began to fill his pipe. The Senator looked earnestly out of the window. Buttons looked at the ceiling.
"What's the matter?" said Mr. Figgs.
"What?" asked Buttons.
"The Higgins Story?"
The Doctor started to his feet. His excitement was wonderful. He clenched his fist.
"I'll quit! I'm going back. I'll join you at Rome by another route. I'll--"
"No, you won't!" said Buttons; "for on a journey like this it would be absurd to begin the Higgins Story."
"Pooh!" said Dick, "it would require nineteen days at least to get through the introductory part."
"When, then, can I hear it?" asked Mr. Figgs, in perplexity.
CHAPTER XVII.
NIGHT ON THE ROAD.--THE CLUB ASLEEP.--THEY ENTER ROME.--THOUGHTS ON APPROACHING AND ENTERING "THE ETERNAL CITY."
To Rome.
[Illustration: To Rome.]
CHAPTER XVIII.
A LETTER BY DICK, AND CRITICISMS OF HIS FRIENDS.
They took lodgings near the Piazza di Spagna. This is the best part of Rome to live in, which every traveller will acknowledge. Among other advantages, it is perhaps the only clean spot in the Capital of Christendom.
Their lodgings were peculiar. Description is quite unnecessary. They were not discovered without toil, and not secured without warfare. Once in possession they had no reason to complain. True, the conveniences of civilized life do not exist there--but who dreams of convenience in Rome?
On the evening of their arrival they were sitting in the Senator's room, which was used as the general rendezvous. Dick was diligently writing.
"Dick," said the Senator, "what are you about?"
"Well," said Dick, "the fact is, I just happened to remember that when I left home the editor of the village paper wished me to write occasionally. I promised, and he at once published the fact in enormous capitals. I never thought of it till this evening, when I happened to find a scrap of t
"Not a bit--he only goes in for money."
The Senator turned away in disgust. "Yankee Doodle," he murmured, "ought of itself to have a refining and converting influence on the European mind; but it is too debased--yes--yes--too debased."
CHAPTER XXII.
HOW A BARGAIN IS MADE.--THE WILES OF THE ITALIAN TRADESMAN.--THE NAKED SULKY BEGGAR, AND THE JOVIAL WELL-CLAD BEGGAR.--WHO IS THE KING OF BEGGARS?
"What are you thinking about, Buttons?"
"Well, Dick, to tell the truth, I have been thinking that if I do find the Spaniards they won't have reason to be particularly proud of me as a companion. Look at me."
"I look, and to be frank, my dear boy, I must say that you look more shabby-genteel than otherwise."
"That's the result of travelling on one suit of clothes--without considering fighting. I give up my theory."
"Give it up, then, and come out as a butterfly."
"Friend of my soul, the die is cast. Come forth with me and seek a clothing-store."
It was not difficult to find one. They entered the first one that they saw. The polite Roman overwhelmed them with attention.
"Show me a coat, Signore."
Signore sprang nimbly at the shelves and brought down every coat in his store. Buttons picked out one that suited his fancy, and tried it on.
"What is the price?"
With a profusion of explanation and description the Roman informed him: "Forty piastres."
"I'll give you twelve," said Buttons, quietly.
The Italian smiled, put his head on one side, drew down the corners of his mouth, and threw up his shoulders. This is the _shrug_. The shrug requires special attention. The shrug is a gesture used by the Latin race for expressing a multitude of things, both objectively and subjectively. It is a language of itself. It is, as circumstances require, a noun, adverb, pronoun, verb, adjective, preposition, interjection, conjunction. Yet it does not supersede the spoken language. It comes in rather when spoken words are useless, to convey intensity of meaning or delicacy. It is not taught, but it is learned.
The coarser, or at least blunter, Teutonic race have not cordially adopted this mode of human intercommunication. The advantage of the shrug is that in one slight gesture it contains an amount of meaning which otherwise would require many words. A good shrugger in Italy is admired, just as a good conversationist is in England, or a good stump orator in America. When the merchant shrugged, Buttons understood him and said:
"You refuse? Then I go. Behold me!"
"Ah, Signore, how can you thus endeavor to take advantage of the necessities of the poor?"
"Signore, I must buy according to my ability."
The Italian laughed long and quietly. The idea of an Englishman or American not having much money was an exquisite piece of humor.
"Go not, Signore. Wait a little. Let me unfold more garments. Behold this, and this. You shall have many of my goods for twelve piastres."
The Shrug.
[Illustration: The Shrug.]
"No, Signore; I must have this, or I will have none."
"You are very hard, Signore. Think of my necessities. Think of the pressure of this present war, which we poor miserable tradesmen feel most of all."
"Then addio, Signore; I must depart."
They went out and walked six paces.
"P-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-t!" (Another little idea of the Latin race. It is a much more penetrating sound than a loud Hallo! Ladies can use it. Children too. This would be worth importing to America.)
"P-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-t!"
Buttons and Dick turned. The Italian stood smiling and bowing and beckoning.
"Take it for twenty-four piastres."
"No, Signore; I can only pay twelve."
With a gesture of ruffled dignity the shopkeeper withdrew. Again they turned away. They had scarcely gone ten paces before the shop-keeper was after them:
"A thousand pardons. But I have concluded to take twenty."
"No; twelve, and no more."
"But think, Signore; only think."
"I do think, my friend; I do think."
"Say eighteen."
"No, Signore."
"Seventeen."
"Twelve."
"Here. Come back with me."
They obeyed. The Italian folded the coat neatly, tied it carefully, stroked the parcel tenderly, and with a meek yet sad smile handed it to Buttons.
"There--only sixteen piastres."
Buttons had taken out his purse. At this he hurriedly replaced it, with an air of vexation.
"I can only give twelve."
"Oh, Signore, be generous. Think of my struggles, my expenses, my family. You will not force me to lose."
"I would scorn to force you to any thing, and therefore I will depart."
"Stop, Signore," cried the Italian, detaining them at the door. "I consent. You may take it for fourteen."
"For Heaven's sake, Buttons, take it," said Dick, whose patience was now completely exhausted. "Take it."
"Twelve," said Buttons.
"Let me pay the extra two dollars, for my own peace of mind," said Dick.
"Nonsense, Dick. It's the principle of the thing. As a member of the Dodge Club, too, I could not give more."
"Thirteen, good Signore mine," said the Italian piteously.
"My friend, I have given my word that I would pay only twelve."
"Your word? Your pardon, but to whom?"
"To you."
"Oh, then, how gladly I release you from your word!"
"Twelve, Signore, or I go."
"I can not."
Buttons turned away. They walked along the street, and at length arrived at another clothier's. Just as they stepped in a hand was laid on Buttons's shoulder, and a voice cried out--
"Take it! Take it, Signore!"
"Ah! I thought so. Twelve?"
"Twelve."
Buttons paid the money and directed where it should be sent. He found out afterward that the price which an Italian gentleman would pay was about ten piastres.
There is no greater wonder than the patient waiting of an Italian tradesman, in pursuit of a bargain. The flexibility of the Italian conscience and imagination under such circumstances is truly astonishing.
Dress makes a difference. The very expression of the face changes when one has passed from shabbiness into elegance. After Buttons had dressed himself in his gay attire his next thought was what to do with his old clothes.
"Come and let us dispose of them."
"Dispose of them!"
"Oh, I mean get rid of them. I saw a man crouching in a corner nearly naked as I came up. Let us go and see if we can find him. I'd like to try the effect."
They went to the place where the man had been seen. He was there still. A young man, in excellent health, brown, muscular, lithe. He had an old coverlet around his loins--that was all. He looked up sulkily.
"Are you not cold?"
"No," he blurted out, and turned away.
"A boor," said Dick. "Don't throw away your charity on him."
"Look here."
The man looked up lazily.
"Do you want some clothes?"
No reply.
"I've got some here, and perhaps will give them to you."
The man scrambled to his feet.
"Confound the fellow!" said Dick. "If he don't want them let's find some one who does."
"Look here," said Buttons.
He unfolded his parcel. The fellow looked indifferently at the things.
"Here, take this," and he offered the pantaloons.
The Italian took them and slowly put them on. This done, he stretched himself and yawned.
"Take this."
It was his vest.
The man took the vest and put it on with equal _sang froid_. Again he yawned and stretched himself.
"Here's a coat."
Buttons held it out to the Italian. The fellow took it, surveyed it closely, felt in the pockets, and examined very critically the stiffening of the collar. Finally he put it on. He buttoned it closely around him, and passed his fingers through his matted hair. Then he felt the pockets once more. After which he yawned long and solemnly. This done, he looked earnestly at Buttons and Dick. He saw that they had nothing more. Upon which he turned on his heel, and without saying a word, good or bad, walked off with immense strides, turned a corner, and was out of sight. The two philanthropists were left staring at one another. At last they laughed.
"That man is an original," said Dick.
"Yes, and there is another," said Buttons.
As he spoke he pointed to the flight of stone steps that goes up from the Piazza di Spagna. Dick looked up. There sat The Beggar!
ANTONIO!
Legless, hatless, but not by any means penniless, king of Roman beggars, with a European reputation, unequalled, in his own profession--there sat the most scientific beggar that the world has ever seen.
He had watched the recent proceedings, and caught the glance of the young men.
As they looked up his voice came clear and sonorous through the air:
"O most generous--0 most noble--O most illustrious youths--Draw near --Look in pity upon the abject--Behold legless, armless, helpless, the beggar Antonio forsaken of Heaven--For the love of the Virgin--For the sake of the saints--In the name of humanity--Date me uno mezzo baioccho--Sono poooocooooovero--Miseraaaaaaaaaabile-- Desperrrraaaaaaaado!"
CHAPTER XXIII.
THE MANIFOLD LIFE OF THE CAFÉ NUOVO, AND HOW THEY RECEIVED THE NEWS ABOUT MAGENTA.--EXCITEMENT.--ENTHUSIASM.--TEARS.--EMBRACES.
All modern Rome lives in the CafÉ Nuovo. It was once a palace. Lofty ceilings, glittering walls, marble pavements, countless tables, luxurious couches, immense mirrors, all dazzle the eye. The hubbub is immense, the confusion overpowering.
The European mode of life is not bad. Lodgings in roomy apartments, where one sleeps and attends to one's private affairs; meals altogether at the cafÉ. There one invites one's friends. No delay with dinner; no badly-cooked dishes; no stale or sour bread; no timid, overworn wife trembling for the result of new experiments in housekeeping. On the contrary, one has: prompt meals; exquisite food; delicious bread; polite waiters; and happy wife, with plenty of leisure at home to improve mind and adorn body.
The first visit which the Club paid to the CafÉ Nuovo was an eventful one. News had just been received of the great strife at Magenta. Every one was wild. The two _Galignani's_ had been appropriated by two Italians, who were surrounded by forty-seven frenzied Englishmen, all eager to get hold of the papers. The Italians obligingly tried to read the news. The wretched mangle which they made of the language, the impatience, the excitement, and the perplexity of the audience, combined with the splendid self-complacency of the readers, formed a striking scene.
The Italians gathered in a vast crowd in one of the billiard-rooms, where one of their number, mounted on a table, was reading with terrific volubility, and still more terrific gesticulations, a private letter from a friend at Milan.
"Bravo!" cried all present.
In pronouncing which word the Italians rolled the "r" so tumultuously that the only audible sound was--
B-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-f-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-r-ah! Like the letter B in a railway train.
The best of all was to see the French. They were packed in a dense mass at the furthest extremity of the Grand Saloon. Every one was talking. Every one was describing to his neighbor the minute particulars of the tremendous contest. Old soldiers, hoarse with excitement, emulated the volubility of younger ones. A thousand arms waved energetically in the air. Every one was too much interested in his own description to heed his neighbor. They were all talkers, no listeners.
A few Germans were there, but they sat forsaken and neglected. Even the waiters forsook them. So they smoked the cigars of sweet and bitter fancy, occasionally conversing in thick gutturals. It was evident that they considered the present occasion as a combined crow of the whole Latin race over the German. So they looked on with impassive faces.
News Of Magenta!
[Illustration: News Of Magenta!]
Perhaps the most stolid of all was Meinheer Schatt, who smoked and sipped coffee alternately, stopping after each sip to look around with mild surprise, to stroke his forked beard, and to ejaculate--
"Gr-r-r-r-r-r-acious me!"
Him the Senator saw and accosted, who, making room for the Senator, conversed with much animation. After a time the others took seats near them, and formed a neutral party. At this moment a small-sized gentleman with black twinkling eyes came rushing past, and burst into the thick of the crowd of Frenchmen. At the sight of him Buttons leaped up, and cried:
"There's Francia! I'll catch him now!"
Francia shouted a few words which set the Frenchmen wild.
"The Allies have entered Milan! A dispatch has just arrived!"
There burst a shrill yell of triumph from the insane Frenchmen. There was a wild rushing to and fro, and the crowd swayed backward and forward. The Italians came pouring in from the other room. One word was sufficient to tell them all. It was a great sight to see. On each individual the news produced a different effect. Some stood still as though petrified; others flung up their arms and yelled; others cheered; others upset tables, not knowing what they were doing; others threw themselves into one another's arms, and embraced and kissed; others wept for joy:--these last were Milanese.
Buttons was trying to find Francia. The rush of the excited crowd bore him away, and his efforts were fruitless. In fact, when he arrived at the place where that gentleman had been, he was gone. The Germans began to look more uncomfortable than ever. At length Meinheer Schatt proposed that they should all go in a body to the CafÉ Scacchi. So they all left.
CHAPTER XXIV.
CHECKMATE!
The CafÉ Scacchi, as its name implies, is devoted to chess. Germans patronize it to a great extent. Politics do not enter into the precincts sacred to Caissa.
After they had been seated about an hour Buttons entered. He had not been able to find Francia. To divert his melancholy he proposed that Meinheer Schatt should play a game of chess with the Senator. Now, chess was the Senator's hobby. He claimed to be the best player in his State. With a patronizing smile he consented to play with a tyro like Meinheer Schatt. At the end of one game Meinheer Schatt stroked his beard and meekly said--
"Gr-r-r-acious me!"
The Senator frowned and bit his lips. He was checkmated.
Another game. Meinheer Schatt played in a calm, and some might say a stupid, manner.
"Gr-r-r-acious me!"
It was a drawn game.
Another: this was a very long game. The Senator played laboriously. It was no use. Slowly and steadily Meinheer Schatt won the game.
When he uttered his usual exclamation the Senator felt strongly inclined to throw the board at his head. However, he restrained himself, and they commenced another game. Much to delight the Senator beat. He now began to explain to Buttons exactly why it was that he had not beaten before.
Another game followed. The Senator lost woefully. His defeat was in fact disgraceful. When Meinheer Schatt said the ominous word the Senator rose, and was so overcome with vexation he had not the courtesy to say Good-night.
As they passed out Meinheer Schatt was seen staring after them with his large blue eyes, stroking his beard, and whispering to himself--
"Gr-r-r-acious me!"
Before And After.
[Illustration: Before And After.]
CHAPTER XXV.
BUTTONS A MAN OF ONE IDEA.--DICK AND HIS MEASURING TAPE.--DARK EYES. --SUSCEPTIBLE HEART.--YOUNG MAIDEN WHO LIVES OUT OF TOWN.--GRAND COLLISION OF TWO ABSTRACTED LOVERS IN THE PUBLIC STREETS.
Too much blame can not be given to Buttons for his behavior at this period. He acted as though the whole motive of his existence was to find the Francias. To this he devoted his days, and of this he dreamed at night. He deserted his friends. Left to themselves, without his moral influence to keep them together and give aim to their efforts, each one followed his own inclination.
Mr. Figgs spent the whole of his time in the CafÉ Nuovo, drawing out plans of dinners for each successive day. The Doctor, after sleeping till noon, lounged on the Pincian Hill till evening, when he joined Mr. Figgs at dinner. The Senator explored every nook and corner of Rome. At first Dick accompanied him, but gradually they diverged from one another in different paths. The Senator visited every place in the city, peered into dirty houses, examined pavements, investigated fountains, stared hard at the beggars, and looked curiously at the Swiss Guard in the Pope's Palace. He soon became known to the lower classes, who recognized with a grin the tall foreigner that shouted queer foreign words and made funny gestures.
Dick lived among churches, palaces, and ruins. Tired at length of wandering, he attached himself to some artists, in whose studios he passed the greater part of his afternoons. He became personally acquainted with nearly every member of the fraternity, to whom he endeared himself by the excellence of his tobacco, and his great capacity for listening. Your talkative people bore artists more than any others.
"What a lovely girl! What a look she gave!"
Such was the thought that burst upon the soul of Dick, after a little visit to a little church that goes by the name of Saint Somebody _ai quattri fontani_. He had visited it simply because he had heard that its dimensions exactly correspond with those of each of the chief piers that support the dome of Saint Peter's. As he wished to be accurate, he had taken a tape-line, and began stretching it from the altar to the door. The astonished priests at first stood paralyzed by his sacrilegious impudence, but finally, after a consultation, they came to him and ordered him to be gone. Dick looked up with mild wonder. They indignantly repeated the order.
Dick was extremely sorry that he had given offense. Wouldn't they overlook it? He was a stranger, and did not know that they would be unwilling. However, since he had begun, he supposed they would kindly permit him to finish.
--"They would kindly do no such thing," remarked one of the priests, brusquely. "Was their church a common stable or a wine-shop that he should presume to molest them at their services? If he had no religion, could he not have courtesy; or, if he had no faith himself, could he not respect the faith of others?"
Dick felt abashed. The eyes of all the worshipers were on him, and it was while rolling up his tape that his eyes met the glance of a beautiful Italian girl, who was kneeling opposite. The noise had disturbed her devotions, and she had turned to see what it was. It was a thrilling glance from deep black lustrous orbs, in which there was a soft and melting languor which he could not resist. He went out dazzled, and so completely bewildered that he did not think of waiting. After he had gone a few blocks he hurried back. She had gone. However, the impression of her face remained.
He went so often to the little church that the priests noticed him; but finding that he was quiet and orderly they were not offended. One of them seemed to think that his rebuke had awakened the young foreigner to a sense of higher things; so he one day accosted him with much politeness. The priest delicately brought forward the claims of religion. Dick listened meekly. At length he asked the priest if he recollected a certain young girl with beautiful face, wonderful eyes, and marvellous appearance that was worshiping there on the day that he came to measure the church.
"Yes," said the priest, coldly.
Could he tell her name and where she lived?
"Sir," said the priest, "I had hoped that you came here from a higher motive. It will do you no good to know, and I therefore decline telling you."
Dick begged most humbly, but the priest was inexorable. At last Dick remembered having heard that an Italian was constitutionally unable to resist a bribe. He thought he might try. True, the priest was a gentleman; but perhaps an Italian gentleman was different from an English or American; so he put his hand in his pocket and blushing violently, brought forth a gold piece of about twenty dollars value. He held it out. The priest stared at him with a look that was appalling.
"If you know--" faltered Dick--"any one--of course I don't mean yourself--far from it--but--that is--"
"Sir," cried the priest, "who are you? Are there no bounds to your impudence? Have you come to insult me because I am a priest, and therefore can not revenge myself? Away!"
The priest choked with rage. Dick walked out. Bitterly he cursed his wretched stupidity that had led him to this. His very ears tingled with shame as he saw the full extent of the insult that he had offered to a priest and a gentleman. He concluded to leave Rome at once.
But at the very moment when he had made this desperate resolve he saw some one coming. A sharp thrill went through his heart.
It was SHE! She looked at him and glanced modestly away. Dick at once walked up to her.
"Signorina," said he, not thinking what a serious thing it was to address an Italian maiden in the streets. But this one did not resent it. She looked up and smiled. "What a smile!" thought Dick.
"Signorina," he said again, and then stopped, not knowing what to say. His voice was very tremulous, and the expression of his face tender and beseeching. His eyes told all.
"Signore," said the girl, with a sweet smile. The smile encouraged Dick.
"Ehem--I have lost my way. I--I--could you tell me how I could get to Piazza del Popolo? I think I might find my way home from there."
The girl's eyes beamed with a mischievous light.
"Oh yes, most easily. You go down that street; when you pass four side-streets you turn; to the left--the left--remember, and then you keep on till you come to a large church with a fountain before it, then you turn round that, and you see the obelisk of the Piazza del Popolo."
Her voice was the sweetest that Dick had ever heard. He listened as he would listen to music, and did not hear a single word that he comprehended.
"Pardon me," said he, "but would you please to tell me again. I can not remember all. Three streets?"
The girl laughed and repeated it
Dick sighed.
"I'm a stranger here, and am afraid that I can not find my way. I left my map at home. If I could find some one who would go with me and show me."
He looked earnestly at her, but she modestly made a movement to go.
"Are you in a great hurry?" said he.
"No, Signore," replied the girl, softly.
"Could you--a--a--would you be willing--to--to--walk a little part of the way with me, and--show me a very little part of the way--only a very little?"
Away!
[Illustration: Away!]
The girl seemed half to consent, but modestly hesitated, and a faint flush stole over her face.
"Ah do!" said Dick. He was desperate.
"It's my only chance," thought he.
The girl softly assented and walked on with him.
"I am very much obliged to you for your kindness," said Dick. "It's very hard for a stranger to find his way in Rome."
"But, Signore, by this time you ought to know the whole of our city."
"What? How?"
"Why, you have been here three weeks at least."
"How do you know?" and the young man blushed to his eyes. He had been telling lies, and she knew it all the time.
"Oh, I saw you once in the church, and I have seen you with that tall man. Is he your father?"
"No, only a friend."
"I saw you," and she shook her little head triumphantly, and her eyes beamed with fun and laughter.
"Any way," thought Dick, "she ought to understand."
"And did you see me when I was in that little church with a measuring line?"
The young girl looked up at him, her large eyes reading his very soul.
"Did I look at you? Why, I was praying."
"You looked at me, and I have never forgotten it."
Another glance as though to assure herself of Dick's meaning. The next moment her eyes sank and her face flushed crimson. Dick's heart beat so fast that he could not speak for some time.
"Signore," said the young girl at last, "when you turn that corner you will see the Piazza del Popolo."
"Will you not walk as far as that corner?" said Dick.
"Ah, Signore, I am afraid I will not have time."
"Will I never see you again?" asked he, mournfully.
"I do not know, Signore. You ought to know."
A pause. Both had stopped, and Dick was looking earnestly at her, but she was looking at the ground.
"How can I know when I do not know even your name? Let me know that, so that I may think about it."
"Ah, how you try to flatter! My name is Pepita Gianti."
"And do you live far from here?"
"Yes. I live close by the Basilica di San Paolo fuori le mure."
"A long distance. I was out there once."
"I saw you."
Dick exulted.
"How many times have you seen me? I have only seen you once before."
"Oh, seven or eight times."
"And will this be the last?" said Dick, beseechingly.
"Signore, if I wait any longer the gates will be shut."
"Oh, then, before you go, tell me where I can find you to-morrow. If I walk out on that road will I see you? Will you come in to-morrow? or will you stay out there and shall I go there? Which of the houses do you live in? or where can I find you? If you lived over on the Alban Hills I would walk every day to find you."
Dick spoke with ardor and impetuosity. The deep feeling which he showed, and the mingled eagerness and delicacy which he exhibited, seemed not offensive to his companion. She looked up timidly.
"When to-morrow comes you will be thinking of something else--or perhaps away on those Alban mountains. You will forget all about me. What is the use of telling you? I ought to go now."
"I'll never forget!" burst forth Dick. "Never--never. Believe me. On my soul; and oh, Signorina, it is not much to ask!"
Pepita.
[Illustration: Pepita.]
His ardor carried him away. In the broad street he actually made a gesture as though he would take her hand. The young girl drew back blushing deeply. She looked at him with a reproachful glance.
"You forget--"
Whereupon Dick interrupted her with innumerable apologies.
"You do not deserve forgiveness. But I will forgive you if you leave me now. Did I not tell you that I was in a hurry?"
"Will you not tell me where I can see you again?"
"I suppose I will be walking out about this time to-morrow."
"Oh, Signorina! and I will be at the gate."
"If you don't forget."
"Would you be angry if you saw me at the gate this evening?"
"Yes; for friends are going out with me. Addio, Signore."
The young girl departed, leaving Dick rooted to the spot. After a while he went on to the Piazza del Popolo. A thousand feelings agitated him. Joy, triumph, perfect bliss, were mingled with countless tender recollections of the glance, the smile, the tone, and the blushes of Pepita. He walked on with new life. So abstracted was his mind in all kinds of delicious anticipations that he ran full against a man who was hurrying at full speed and in equal abstraction in the opposite direction. There was a recoil. Both fell. Both began to make apologies. But suddenly:
"Why, Buttons!"
"Why, Dick!"
"Where in the world did you come from?"
"Where in the world did you come from?"
"What are you after, Buttons?"
"Did you see a carriage passing beyond that corner?"
"No, none."
"You must have seen it."
"Well, I didn't."
"Why, it must have just passed you."
"I saw none."
"Confound it!"
Buttons hurriedly left, and ran all the way to the corner, round which he passed.
CHAPTER XXVI.
CONSEQUENCES OF BEING GALLANT IN ITALY, WHERE THERE ARE LOVERS, HUSBANDS, BROTHERS, FATHERS, COUSINS, AND INNUMERABLE OTHER RELATIVES AND CONNECTIONS, ALL READY WITH THE STILETTO.
After his meeting with Pepita, Dick found it extremely difficult to restrain his impatience until the following evening. He was at the gate long before the time, waiting with trembling eagerness.
It was nearly sundown before she came; but she did come at last. Dick watched her with strange emotions, murmuring to himself all those peculiar epithets which are commonly used by people in his situation. The young girl was unmistakably lovely, and her grace and beauty might have affected a sterner heart than Dick's.
"Now I wonder if she knows how perfectly and radiantly lovely she is," thought he, as she looked at him and smiled.
He joined her a little way from the gate.
"So you do not forget."
"_I_ forget! Before I spoke to you I thought of you without ceasing, and now I can never forget you."
"Do your friends know where you are?" she asked, timidly.
"Do you think I would tell them?"
"Are you going to stay long in Rome?"
"I will not go away for a long time."
"You are an American."
"Yes."
"America is very far away."
"But it is easy to get there."
"How long will you be in Rome?"
"I don't know. A very long time."
"Not in the summer?"
"Yes, in the summer."
"But the malaria. Are you not afraid of that? Will your friends stay?"
"I do not care whether my friends do or not."
"But you will be left alone."
"I suppose so."
"But what will you do for company? It will be very lonely."
"I will think of you all day, and at evening come to the gate."
"Oh, Signore! You jest now!"
"How can I jest with you?"
"You don't mean what you say."
"Pepita!"
Pepita blushed and looked embarrassed. Dick had called her by her Christian name; but she did not appear to resent it.
"You don't know who I am," she said at last. "Why do you pretend to be so friendly?"
"I know that you are Pepita, and I don't want to know any thing more, except one thing, which I am afraid to ask."
Pepita quickened her pace.
"Do not walk so fast, Pepita," said Dick, beseechingly. "Let the walk be as long as you can."
"But if I walked so slowly you would never let me get home."
"I wish I could make the walk so slow that we could spend a life-time on the road."
Pepita laughed. "That would be a long time."
It was getting late. The sun was half-way below the horizon. The sky was flaming with golden light, which glanced
"You must not leave me so," said Pepita, reproachfully. "I will tell you all. You will understand me better. Listen. My family is noble."
"Noble!" cried Dick, thunderstruck. He had certainly always thought her astonishingly lady--like for a peasant girl, but attributed this to the superior refinement of the Italian race.
"Yes, noble," said Pepita, proudly. "We seem now only poor peasants. Yet once we were rich and powerful. My grandfather lost all in the wars in the time of Napoleon, and only left his descendants an honorable name. Alas! honor and titles are worth but little when one is poor. My brother Luigi is the Count di Gianti."
"And you are the Countess di Gianti."
"Yes," said Pepita, smiling at last, and happy at the change that showed itself in Dick. "I am the Countess Pepita di Gianti. Can you understand now my dear Luigi's high sense of honor and the fury that he felt when he thought that you intended an insult? Our poverty, which we can not escape, chafes him sorely. If I were to desert him thus suddenly it would kill him."
"Oh, Pepita! if waiting will win you I will wait for years. Is there any hope?"
"When will you leave Rome?"
"In a few days my friends leave."
"Then do not stay behind. If you do you can not see me."
"But if I come again in two or three months? What then? Can I see you?"
"Perhaps," said Pepita, timidly.
"And you will apt refuse? No, no! You can not! How can I find you?"
"Alas! you will by that time forget all about me."
"Cruel Pepita! How can you say I will forget? Would I not die for you? How can I find you?"
"The Padre Lignori."
"Who?"
"Padre Lignori, at the little church. The tall priest--the one who spoke to you."
"But he will refuse. He hates me."
"He is a good man. If he thinks you are honorable he will be your friend. He is a true friend to me."
"I will see him before I leave and tell him all."
There were voices below.
Pepita started.
"They come. I must go," said she, dropping her veil.
"Confound them!" cried Dick.
"_Addio_!" sighed Pepita.
Dick caught her in his arms. She tore herself away with sobs.
She was gone.
Dick sank back in his chair, with his eyes fixed hungrily on the door.
"Hallo!" burst the Doctor's voice on his ears. "Who's that old girl? Hey? Why, Dick, how pale you are! You're worse. Hang it! you'll have a relapse if you don't look out. You must make a total change in your diet--more stimulating drink and generous food. However, the drive to Florence will set you all right again."
CHAPTER XXX.
OCCUPATIONS AND PEREGRINATIONS OF BUTTONS.
If Buttons had spent little time in his room before he now spent less. He was exploring the ruins of Rome, the churches, the picture galleries, and the palaces under new auspices. He knew the name of every palace and church in the place. He acquired this knowledge by means of superhuman application to "Murray's Hand-book" on the evenings after leaving his companions. They were enthusiastic, particularly the ladies. They were perfectly familiar with all the Spanish painters and many of the Italian. Buttons felt himself far inferior to them in real familiarity with Art, but he made amends by brilliant criticisms of a transcendental nature.
Buttons and Murray.
[Illustration: Buttons and Murray.]
It was certainly a pleasant occupation for youth, sprightliness, and beauty. To wander all day long through that central world from which forever emanate all that is fairest and most enticing in Art, Antiquity, and Religion; to have a soul open to the reception of all these influences, and to have all things glorified by Almighty love; in short, to be in love in Rome.
Rome is an inexhaustible store-house of attractions. For the lovers of gayety there are the drives of the Pincian Hill, or the Villa Borghese. For the student, ruins whose very dust is eloquent. For the artist, treasures beyond price. For the devotee, religion. How fortunate, thought Buttons, that in addition to all this there is, for the lovers of the beautiful, beauty!
Day after day they visited new scenes. Upon the whole, perhaps, the best way to see the city, when one can not spend one's life there, is to take Murray's Hand-book, and, armed with that red necessity, dash energetically at the work; see every thing that is mentioned; hurry it up in the orthodox manner; then throw the book away, and go over the ground anew, wandering easily wherever fancy leads.
CHAPTER XXXI.
BUTTONS ACTS THE GOOD SAMARITAN, AND LITERALLY UNEARTHS A MOST UNEXPECTED VICTIM OF AN ATROCIOUS ROBBERY.--GR-R-R-A-CIOUS ME!
To these, once wandering idly down the Appian Way, the ancient tower of Metella rose invitingly. The carriage stopped, and ascending, they walked up to the entrance. They marvelled at the enormous blocks of travertine of which the edifice was built, the noble simplicity of the style, the venerable garment of ivy which hid the ravages of time.
The door was open, and they walked in. Buttons first; the ladies timidly following; and the Don bringing up the rear. Suddenly a low groan startled them. It seemed to come from the very depths of the earth. The ladies gave a shriek, and dashing past their brother, ran out. The Don paused. Buttons of course advanced. He never felt so extensive in his life before. What a splendid opportunity to give an exhibition of manly courage! So he walked on, and shouted:
"Who's there?"
A groan!
Further in yet, till he came to the inner chamber. It was dark there, the only light coming in through the passages. Through the gloom he saw the figure of a man lying on the floor so tied that he could not move.
"Who are you? What's the matter?"
"Let me loose, for God's sake!" said a voice, in thick Italian, with a heavy German accent. "I'm a traveller. I've been robbed by brigands."
To snatch his knife from his pocket, to cut the cords that bound the man, to lift him to his feet, and then to start back with a cry of astonishment, were all the work of an instant. By this time the others had entered.
The man was a German, unmistakably. He stood blinking and staring. Then he stretched his several limbs and rubbed himself. Then he took a long survey of the new-comers. Then he stroked a long, red, forked beard, and, in tones expressive of the most profound bewilderment, slowly ejaculated--
"Gr-r-r-r-acious me!"
"Meinheer Schatt!" cried Buttons, grasping his hand. "How in the name of wonder did you get here? What has happened to you? Who tied you up? Were you robbed? Were you beaten? Are you hurt? But come out of this dark hole to the sunshine."
Meinheer Schatt walked slowly out, saying nothing to these rapid inquiries of Buttons. The German intellect is profound, but slow; and so Meinheer Schatt took a long time to collect his scattered ideas. Buttons found that he was quite faint; so producing a flask from his pocket he made him drink a little precious cordial, which revived him greatly. After a long pull he heaved a heavy sigh, and looked with a piteous expression at the new-comers. The kind-hearted Spaniards insisted on taking him to their carriage. He was too weak to walk. They would drive him. They would listen to no refusal. So Meinheer Schatt was safely deposited in the carriage, and told his story.
He had come out very early in the morning to visit the Catacombs. He chose the early part of the day so as to be back before it got hot. Arriving at the Church of St. Sebastian he found to his disappointment that it was not open yet. So he thought he would beguile the time by walking about. So he strolled off to the tomb of Caecelia Metella, which was the most striking object in view. He walked around it, and broke off a few pieces of stone. He took also a few pieces of ivy. These he intended to carry away as relics. At last he ventured to enter and examine the interior. Scarce had he got inside than he heard footsteps without. The door was blocked up by a number of ill-looking men, who came in and caught him.
Meinheer Schatt confessed that he was completely overcome by terror.
However, he at last mustered sufficient strength to ask what they wanted.
"You are our prisoner."
"Why? Who are you?"
"We are the secret body-guard of His Holiness, appointed by the Sacred Council of the Refectory," said one of the men, in a mocking tone.
Then Meinheer Schatt knew that they were robbers. Still he indignantly protested he was an unoffending traveller.
"It's false! You have been mutilating the sacred sepulchre of the dead, and violating the sanctity of their repose!"
And the fellow, thrusting his hands in the prisoner's pockets, brought forth the stones and ivy. The others looked into his other pockets, examined his hat, made him strip, shook his clothes, pried into his boots--in short, gave him a thorough overhaul.
They found nothing, except, as Meinheer acknowledged, with a faint smile, a piece of the value of three half-cents American, which he had brought as a fee to the guide through the Catacombs. It was that bit of money that caused his bonds. It maddened them. They danced around him in perfect fury, and asked what he meant by daring to come out and give them so much trouble with only that bit of impure silver about him.
"Dog of a Tedescho! Your nation has trampled upon our liberties; but Italy shall be avenged! Dog! scoundrel! villain! Tedescho! Tedes-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-s-cho!"
The end of it was that Meinheer Schatt was tied in a singularly uncomfortable position and left there. He thought he had been there about five hours. He was faint and hungry.
They took him home.
CHAPTER XXXII.
ANOTHER DISCOVERY MADE BY BUTTONS.
On the evening after this adventure the Don turned the conversation into a new channel. They all grew communicative. Buttons told them that his father was an extensive merchant and ship-owner in Boston. His business extended over many parts of the world. He thought he might have done something in Cadiz.
"Your father a ship-owner in Boston! I thought you belonged to New York," said the Don, in surprise.
"Oh," said Buttons, "I said I came from there. The fact is, I lived there four years at college, and will live there when I return."
"And your father lives in Boston," said the Don, with an interest that surprised Buttons.
"Yes."
"Is his name Hiram Buttons?"
"Yes," cried Buttons, eagerly. "How do you know?"
"My dear Sir," cried the Don, "Hiram Buttons and I are not only old business correspondents, but I hope I can add personal friends."
The Don rose and grasped Buttons cordially by the hand. The young man was overcome by surprise, delight, and triumph.
"I liked you from the first," said the Don. "You bear your character in your face. I was happy to receive you into our society. But now I feel a still higher pleasure, for I find you are the son of a man for whom I assure you I entertain an infinite respect."
The sisters were evidently delighted at the scene. As to Buttons, he was overcome.
Thus far he often felt delicacy about his position among them, and fears of intruding occasionally interfered with his enjoyment. His footing now was totally different; and the most punctilious Spaniard could find no fault with his continued intimacy.
"Hurrah for that abominable old office, and that horrible business to which the old gentleman tried to bring me! It has turned out the best thing for me. What a capital idea it was for the governor to trade with Cadiz!"
Such were the thoughts of Buttons as he went home.
CHAPTER XXXIII.
[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekek koax koax koax. [TN: /end Greek.]
In his explorations of the nooks and corners of Rome the Senator was compelled for some time to make his journeys alone. He sometimes felt regret that he had not some interpreter with him on these occasions; but on the whole he thought he was well paid for his trouble, and he stored up in his memory an incredible number of those items which are usually known as "useful facts."
On one of these occasions he entered a very common cafÉ near one of the gates, and as he felt hungry he determined to get his dinner. He had long felt a desire to taste those "frogs" of which he had heard so much, and which to his great surprise he had never yet seen. On coming to France he of course felt confident that he would find frogs as common as potatoes on every dinner-table. To his amazement he had not yet seen one.
He determined to have some now. But how could he get them? How ask for them?
"Pooh! easy enough!" said the Senator to himself, with a smile of superiority. "I wish I could ask for every thing else as easily."
So he took his seat at one of the tables, and gave a thundering rap to summon the waiter. All the cafÉ had been startled by the advent of the large foreigner. And evidently a rich man, for he was an Englishman, as they thought. So up came the waiter with a very low bow, and a very dirty jacket; and all the rest of the people in the cafÉ looked at the Senator out of the corner of their eyes, and stopped talking. The Senator gazed with a calm, serene face and steady eye upon the waiter.
"Signore?" said the waiter, interrogatively.
"_Gunk_! _gung_!" said the Senator, solemnly, without moving a muscle.
The waiter stared.
"_Che vuol ella_?" he repeated, in a faint voice.
"_Gunk_! _gung_!" said the Senator, as solemnly as before.
"Non capisco."
"_Gunk gung_! _gunkety gunk gung_!"
The waiter shrugged his shoulders till they reached the upper part of his ears. The Senator looked for a moment at him, and saw that he did not understand him. He looked at the floor involved in deep thought. At last he raised his eyes once more to meet those of the waiter, which still were fixed upon him, and placing the palms of his hands on his hips, threw back his head, and with his eyes still fixed steadfastly upon the waiter he gave utterance to a long shrill gurgle such as he thought the frogs might give:
[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekekek koax koax, Brekekekek koax koax. [TN: /end Greek.]
Brekekekek koax koax!
[Illustration: Brekekekek koax koax!]
(Recurrence must be made to Aristophanes, who alone of articulate speaking men has written down the utterance of the common frog.)
The waiter started back. All the men in the cafÉ jumped to their feet.
"[Transcriber's Note: Transliteration of Greek.] Brekekekek koax koax [TN: /end Greek.]," continued the Senator, quite patiently. The waiter looked frightened.
"Will you give me some or not?" cried the Senator, indignantly.
"Signore," faltered the waiter. Then he ran for the cafÉ-keeper.
The cafÉ-keeper came. The Senator repeated the words mentioned above, though somewhat angrily. The keeper brought forward every customer in the house to see if any one could understand the language.
"It's German," said one.
"It's English," said another.
"Bah!" said a third. "It's Russian."
"No," said a fourth, "it's Bohemian; for Carolo Quinto said that Bohemian was the language of the devil." And Number Four, who was rather an intelligent-looking man, eyed the Senator compassionately.
"_Gunk gung, gunkety gung_!" cried the Senator, frowning, for his patience had at last deserted him.
The others looked at him helplessly, and some, thinking of the devil, piously crossed themselves. Whereupon the Senator rose in majestic wrath, and shaking his purse in the face of the cafÉ-keeper, shouted:
"You're worse than a nigger!" and stalked grandly out of the place.
CHAPTER XXXIV.
THE SENATOR PURSUES HIS INVESTIGATIONS.--AN INTELLIGENT ROMAN TOUCHES A CHORD IN THE SENATOR'S HEART THAT VIBRATES.--RESULTS OF THE VIBRATION.--A VISIT FROM THE ROMAN POLICE; AND THE GREAT RACE DOWN THE CORSO BETWEEN THE SENATOR AND A ROMAN SPY.--GLEE OF THE POPULACE!--HI! HI!
He did not ask for frogs again; but still he did not falter in his examination into the life of the people. Still he sauntered through the remoter corners of Rome, wandering over to the other side of the Tiber, or through the Ghetto, or among the crooked streets at the end of the Corso. Few have learned so much of Rome in so short a time.
On one occasion he was sitting in a cafÉ, where he had supplied his wants in the following way:
"Hi! coffee! coffee!" and again, "Hi! cigar! cigar!" when his eye was attracted by a man at the next table who was reading a copy of the London _Times_, which he had spread out very ostentatiously. After a brief survey the Senator walked over to his table and, with a beaming smile, said--
"Good-day, Sir."
The other man looked up and returned a very friendly smile.
"And how do you do, Sir?"
"Very well, I thank you," said the other, with a strong Italian accent.
"Do you keep your health?"
"Thank you, yes," said the other, evidently quite pleased at the advances of the Senator.
"Nothing gives me so much pleasure," said the Senator, "as to come across an Italian who understands English. You, Sir, are a Roman, I presume."
"Sir, I am."
The man to whom the Senator spoke was not one who would have attracted any notice from him if it had not been for his knowledge of English. He was a narrow-headed, mean-looking man, with very seedy clothes, and a servile but cunning expression.
"How do you like Rome?" he asked of the Senator.
The Senator at once poured forth all that had been in his mind since his arrival. He gave his opinion about the site, the architecture, the drains, the municipal government, the beggars, and the commerce of the place; then the soldiers, the nobles, the priests, monks, and nuns.
Then he criticised the Government, its form, its mode of administration, enlarged upon its tyranny, condemned vehemently its police system, and indeed its whole administration of every thing, civil, political, and ecclesiastical.
Waxing warmer with the sound of his own eloquence, he found himself suddenly but naturally reminded of a country where all this is reversed. So he went on to speak about Freedom, Republicanism, the Rights of Man, and the Ballot-Box. Unable to talk with sufficient fluency while in a sitting posture he rose to his feet, and as he looked around, seeing that all present were staring at him, he made up his mind to improve the occasion. So he harangued the crowd generally, not because he thought any of them could understand him, but it was so long since he had made a speech that the present opportunity was irresistible. Besides, as he afterward remarked, he felt that it was a crisis, and who could tell but that a word spoken in season might produce some beneficial effects.
He shook hands very warmly with his new friend after it all was over, and on leaving him made him promise to come and see him at his lodgings, where he would show him statistics, etc. The Senator then returned.
That evening he received a visit. The Senator heard a rap at his door and called out "Come in." Two men entered--ill-looking, or rather malignant-looking, clothed in black.
Dick was in his room, Buttons out, Figgs and the Doctor had not returned from the cafÉ.
"His Excellency," said he, pointing to the other, "wishes to speak to you on official business."
"Happy to hear it," said the Senator.
"His Excellency is the Chief of the Police, and I am the Interpreter."
Whereupon the Senator shook hands with both of them again.
"Proud to make your acquaintance," said he. "I am personally acquainted with the Chief of the Boston _po_lice, and also of the Chief of the New York _po_lice, and my opinion is that they can stand more liquor than any men I ever met with. Will you liquor?"
The interpreter did not understand. The Senator made an expressive sign. The interpreter mentioned the request to the Chief, who shook his head coldly.
"This is formal," said the Interpreter-"not social."
The Senator's face flushed. He frowned.
"Give him my compliments then, and tell him the next time he refuses a gentleman's offer he had better do it like a gentleman. For my part, if I chose to be uncivil, I might say that I consider your Roman police very small potatoes."
Got You There!
[Illustration: Got You There!]
The Interpreter translated this literally, and though the final expression was not very intelligible, yet it seemed to imply contempt.
So the Chief of Police made his communication as sternly as possible. Grave reports had been made about His American Excellency. The Senator looked surprised.
"What about?"
That he was haranguing the people, going about secretly, plotting, and trying to instill revolutionary sentiments into the public mind.
"Pooh!" said the Senator.
The Chief of Police bade him be careful. He would not be permitted to stir up an excitable populace. This was to give him warning.
"Pooh!" said the Senator again.
And if he neglected this warning it would be the worse for him. And the Chief of Police looked unutterable things. The Senator gazed at him sternly and somewhat contemptuously for a few minutes.
"You're no great shakes anyhow," said he.
"Signore?" said the Interpreter.
"Doesn't it strike you that you are talking infernal nonsense?" asked the Senator in a slightly argumentative tone of voice, throwing one leg over another, tilting back his chair, and folding his arms.
"Your language is disrespectful," was the indignant reply.
"Yours strikes me as something of the same kind, too; but more --it is absurd."
"What do you mean?"
"You say I stir up the people."
"Yes. Do you deny it?"
"Pooh! How can a man stir up the people when he can't speak a word of the language?"
The Chief of Police did not reply for a moment.
"I rather think I've got you there," said the Senator, dryly. "Hey? old Hoss?"
("Old Hoss" was an epithet which he used when he was in a good humor.) He felt that he had the best of it here, and his anger was gone. He therefore tilted his chair back farther, and placed his feet upon the back of a chair that was in front of him.
"There are Italians in Rome who speak English," was at length the rejoinder.
"I wish I could find some then," said the Senator. "It's worse than looking for a needle in a hay-stack, they're so precious few."
"You have met one."
"And I can't say feel over-proud of the acquaintance," said the Senator, in his former dry tone, looking hard at the Interpreter.
"At the CafÉ Cenacci, I mean."
"The what? Where's that?"
"Where you were this morning."
"Oh ho! that's it--ah? And was my friend there one of your friends too?" asked the Senator, as light burst in upon him.
"He was sufficiently patriotic to give warning."
"Oh--patriotic?--he was, was he?" said the Senator, slowly, while his eyes showed a dangerous light.
"Yes--patriotic. He has watched you for some time."
"Watched me!" and the Senator frowned wrathfully.
"Yes, all over Rome, wherever you went."
"Watched me! dogged me! tracked me! Aha?"
"So you are known."
"Then the man is a spy."
"He is a patriot."
"Why the mean concern sat next me, attracted my attention by reading English, and encouraged me to speak as I did. Why don't you arrest him?"
"He did it to test you."
"To test me! How would he like me to test him?"
"The Government looks on your offense with lenient eyes."
"Ah!"
"And content themselves this time with giving you warning."
"Very much obliged; but tell your Government not to be alarmed. I won't hurt them."
Upon this the two visitors took their leave.
Walking Spanish.
[Illustration: Walking Spanish.]
The Senator informed his two friends about the visit, and thought very lightly about it; but the recollection of one thing rankled in his mind.
That spy! The fellow had humbugged him. He had dogged him, tracked him, perhaps for weeks, had drawn him into conversation, asked leading questions, and then given information. If there was any thing on earth that the Senator loathed it was this.
But how could such a man be punished! That was the thought. Punishment could only come from one. The law could do nothing. But there was one who could do something, and that one was himself. Lynch law!
"My fayther was from Bosting,
My uncle was Judge Lynch,
So, darn your fire and roasting,
You can not make me flinch."
The Senator hummed the above elegant words all that evening.
He thought he could find the man yet. He was sure he would know him. He would devote himself to this on the next day. The next day he went about the city, and at length in the afternoon he came to Pincian Hill. There was a great crowd there as usual. The Senator placed himself in a favorable position, in which he could only be seen from one point, and then watched with the eye of a hawk.
He watched for about an hour. At the end of that time he saw a face. It belonged to a man who had been leaning against a post with his back turned toward the Senator all this time. It was _the face_! The fellow happened to turn it far enough round to let the Senator see him. He was evidently watching him yet. The Senator walked rapidly toward him. The man saw him and began to move as rapidly away. The Senator increased his pace. So did the man. The Senator walked still faster. So did the man. The Senator took long strides. The man took short, quick ones. It is said that the fastest pedestrians are those who take short, quick steps. The Senator did not gain on the other.
By this time a vast number of idlers had been attracted by the sight of these two men walking as if for a wager. At last the Senator began to run. So did the man!
The whole thing was plain. One man was chasing the other. At once all the idlers of the Pincian Hill stopped all their avocations and turned to look. The road winds down the Pincian Hill to the Piazza del Popolo, and those on the upper part can look down and see the whole extent. What a place for a race! The quick-eyed Romans saw it all.
"A spy! yes, a Government spy!"
"Chased by an eccentric Englishman!"
A loud shout burst from the Roman crowd. But a number of English and Americans thought differently. They saw a little man chased by a big one. Some cried "Shame!" Others, thinking it a case of pocket-picking, cried "Stop thief!" Others cried "Go it, little fellow! Two to one on the small chap!"
Every body on the Pincian Hill rushed to the edge of the winding road to look down, or to the paved walk that overlooks the Piazza. Carriages stopped and the occupants looked down. French soldiers, dragoons, guards, officers--all staring.
And away went the Senator. And away ran the terrified spy. Down the long way, and at length they came to the Piazza del Popolo. A loud shout came from all the people. Above and on all sides they watched the race. The spy darted down the Corso. The Senator after him.
The Romans in the street applauded vociferously. Hundreds of people stopped, and then turned and ran after the Senator. All the windows were crowded with heads. All the balconies were filled with people.
Down along the Corso. Past the column of Antonine. Into a street on the left. The Senator was gaining! At last they came to a square. A great fountain of vast waters bursts forth there. The spy ran to the other side of the square, and just as he was darting into a side alley the Senator's hand clutched his coat-tails!
The Senator took the spy in that way by which one is enabled to make any other do what is called "Walking Spanish," and propelled him rapidly toward the reservoir of the fountain.
The Senator raised the spy from the ground and pitched him into the pool.
The air was rent with acclamations and cries of delight.
As the spy emerged, half-drowned, the crowd came forward and would have prolonged the delightful sensation.
Not often did they have a spy in their hands.
Dick Thinks It Over.
[Illustration: Dick Thinks It Over.]
CHAPTER XXXV.
DICK MAKES ANOTHER EFFORT, AND BEGINS TO FEEL ENCOURAGED.
Pepita's little visit was beneficial to Dick. It showed him that he was not altogether cut off from her. Before that he had grown to think of her as almost inaccessible; now she seemed to have a will, and, what is better, a heart of her own, which would lead her to do her share toward meeting him again. Would it not be better now to comply with her evident desire, and leave Rome for a little while? He could return again. But how could he tear himself away? Would, it not be far better to remain and seek her? He could not decide. He thought of Padre Liguori. He had grossly insulted that gentleman, and the thought of meeting him again made him feel blank. Yet he was in some way or other a protector of Pepita, a guardian, perhaps, and as such had influence over her fortunes. If he could only disarm hostility from Padre Liguori it would be undoubtedly for his benefit. Perhaps Padre Liguori would become his friend, and try to influence Pepita's family in his favor. So he decided on going to see Padre Liguori.
The new turn which had been given to his feelings by Pepita's visit had benefited him in mind and body. He was quite strong enough for a long walk. Arriving at the church he had no difficulty in finding Liguori. The priest advanced with a look of surprise.
"Before mentioning the object of my visit," said Dick, bowing courteously, "I owe you an humble apology for a gross insult. I hope you will forgive me."
The priest bowed.
"After I left here I succeeded in my object," continued Dick.
"I heard so," said Liguori, coldly.
"And you have heard also that I met with a terrible punishment for my presumption, or whatever else you may choose to call it."
"I heard of that also." said the priest, sternly. "And do you complain of it? Tell me. Was it not deserved?"
"If their suspicions and yours had been correct, then the punishment would have been well deserved. But you all wrong me. I entreat you to believe me. I am no adventurer. I am honest and sincere."
"We have only your word for this," said Liguori, coldly.
"What will make you believe that I am sincere, then?" said Dick. "What proof can I give?"
"You are safe in offering to give proofs in a case where none can be given."
"I am frank with you. Will you not be so with me? I come to you to tr
In fact, they didn't meet with a single incident worth mentioning till they came to Perugia. Perugia is one of the finest places in Italy, and really did not deserve to be overhauled so terrifically by the Papal troops. Every body remembers that affair. At the time when the Dodge Club arrived at this city they found the Papal party in the middle of a reaction. They actually began to fear that they had gone a little too far. They were making friendly overtures to the outraged citizens. But the latter were implacable, stiff!
What rankled most deeply was the maddening fact that these Swiss, who were made the ministers of vengeance, were part of that accursed, detested, hated, shunned, despised, abhorred, loathed, execrated, contemptible, stupid, thick-headed, brutal, gross, cruel, bestial, demoniacal, fiendish, and utterly abominable race--_I Tedeschi_ --whose very name, when hissed from an Italian month, expresses unutterable scorn and undying hate.
They left Perugia at early dawn. Jogging on easily over the hills, they were calculating the time when they would reach Florence.
In the disturbed state of Italy at this time, resulting from war and political excitement, and general expectation of universal change, the country was filled with disorder, and scoundrels infested the roads, particularly in the Papal territories. Here the Government, finding sufficient employment for all its energies in taking care of itself, could scarcely be expected to take care either of its own subjects or the traveller through its dominions. The Americans had heard several stories about brigands, but had given themselves no trouble whatever about them.
Now it came to pass that about five miles from Perugia they wound round a very thickly-wooded mountain, which ascended on the left, far above, and on the right descended quite abruptly into a gorge. Dick was outside; the others inside. Suddenly a loud shout, and a scream from Pietro. The carriage stopped.
The inside passengers could see the horses rearing and plunging, and Dick, snatching whip and reins from Pietro, lashing them with all his might. In a moment all inside was in an uproar.
"We are attacked!" cried Buttons.
"The devil!" cried the Senator, who, in his sudden excitement, used the first and only profane expression which his friends ever heard him utter.
Out came the Doctor's revolver.
Bang! bang! wept two rifles outside, and a loud voice called on them to surrender.
"_Andate al Diavolo_!" pealed out Dick's voice as loud as a trumpet. His blows fell fast and furiously on the horses. Maddened by pain, the animals bounded forward for a few rods, and then swerving from the road-side, dashed against the precipitous hill, where the coach stuck, the horses rearing.
Through the doors which they had flung open in order to jump out the occupants of the carriage saw the reeling figures of armed men overthrown and cursing. In a moment they all were out.
Bang! and then--
Ba-ba-ba-ba-ba-bang! went half a dozen rifles.
Thank Heaven! not one of the Club, was struck. There were twenty scoundrels armed to the teeth.
The Doctor was as stiff as a rock. He aimed six times as calmly as though he were in a pistol-gallery. Nerve told. Six explosions roared. Six yells followed. Six men reeled.
"I'd give ten years of my life for such a pistol!" cried Buttons.
The Italians were staggered. Dick had a bowie-knife. The Senator grasped a ponderous beam that he had placed on the coach in case of another break-down. Mr. Figgs had a razor which he had grabbed from the storehouse in the Doctor's pocket. Buttons had nothing. But on the road lay three Italians writhing.
"Hurrah!" cried Buttons. "Load again, Doctor. Come; let's make a rush and get these devils on the road."
He rushed forward. The others all at his side. The Italians stood paralyzed at the effect of the revolver. As Buttons led the charge they fell back a few paces.
"Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah!" burst Buttons, the Senator, and Dick, as each snatched a rifle from the prostrate bandits, and hastily tore the cartridge-boxes from them.
"Load up! load up! Doctor!" cried Buttons.
"All right,"' said the Doctor, who never changed in his cool self-possession.
But now the Italians with curses and screams came back to the attack. It is absolutely stupefying to think how few shots hit the mark in the excitement of a fight. Here were a number of men firing from a distance of hardly more than forty paces, and not one took effect.
The next moment the whole crowd were upon them. Buttons snatched Mr. Figgs's razor from his grasp and used it vigorously. Dick plied his bowie-knife. The Senator wielded a clubbed rifle on high as though it were a wand, and dealt the blows of a giant upon the heads of his assailants. All the Italians were physically their inferiors--small, puny men. Mr. Figgs made a wild dash at the first man he saw and seized his rifle. The fight was spirited.
The rascally brigands were nearly three times as numerous, but the Americans surpassed them in bodily strength and spirit.
Crash--crash--fell the Senator's rifle, and down went two men. His strength was enormous--absorbed as it had been from the granite cliffs of the old Granite State. Two brawny fellows seized him from behind. A thrust of his elbow laid one low. Buttons slashed the wrist of the other. A fellow threw himself on Buttons. Dick's bowie-knife laid open his arm and thigh. The next moment Dick went down beneath the blows of several Italians. But Buttons rushed with his razor to rescue Dick. Three men glared at him with uplifted weapons. Down came the Senator's clubbed rifle like an avalanche, sweeping their weapons over the cliff. They turned simultaneously on the Senator, and grasped him in a threefold embrace. Buttons's razor again drank blood. Two turned upon him. Bang! went the Doctor's pistol, sending one of them shrieking to the ground. Bang! Once more, and a fellow who had nearly overpowered the breathless Figgs staggered back. Dick was writhing on the ground beneath the weight of a dead man and a fellow who was trying to suffocate him. Buttons was being throttled by three others who held him powerless, his razor being broken. A crack on Mr. Figgs's head laid him low. The Doctor stood off at a little distance hastily reloading.
The Senator alone was free; but six fierce fellows assailed him. It was now as in the old Homeric days, when the heroic soul, sustained by iron nerve and mighty muscle, came out particularly strong in the hour of conflict.
The Senator's form towered up like one of his own granite cliffs in the storm--as rugged, as unconquerable. His blood was up! The same blood it was that coursed through the veins of Cromwell's grim old "Ironsides," and afterward animated those sturdy backwoods-men who had planted themselves in American forests, and beaten back wild beasts and howling savages.
Buttons, prostrate on the ground, looked up, gasping through the smoke and dust, as he struggled with his assailants. He saw the Senator, his hair bristling out straight, his teeth set, his eye on fire, his whole expression sublimed by the ardor of battle. His clothes were torn to shreds; his coat was gone, his hat nowhere, his hands and face were covered with clots of blood and streaks from mud, dust, smoke, and powder.
The eye of Buttons took in all this in one glance. The next instant, with a wide sweep of his clubbed rifle the Senator put forth all his gigantic strength in one tremendous effort. The shock was irresistible. Down went the six bandits as though a cannon-ball had struck them. The Senator leaped away to relieve Dick, and seizing his assailant by neck and heel, flung him over the cliff. Then tearing away another from Mr. Figgs's prostrate and almost senseless form, he rushed back upon the six men whom he had just levelled to the earth.
Dick sprang to the relief of Buttons, who was at his last extremity. But the Doctor was before him, as cool as ever. He grasped one fellow by the throat--a favorite trick of the Doctor's, in which his anatomical knowledge came very finely into play:
"Off!" rang the Doctor's voice.
The fellow gasped a curse. The next instant a roar burst through the air, and the wretch fell heavily forward, shot through the head, while his brains were splattered over the face of Buttons. The Doctor with a blow of his fist sent the other fellow reeling over.
Buttons sprang up gasping. The Italians were falling back. He called to the Senator. That man of might came up. Thank God they were all alive! Bruised, and wounded, and panting--but alive.
The scowling bandits drew off, leaving seven of their number on the road _hors de combat_. Some of the retreating ones had been badly treated, and limped and staggered. The Club proceeded to load their rifles.
The Doctor stepped forward. Deliberately aiming he fired his revolver five times in rapid succession. Before he had time to load again the bandits had darted into the woods.
"Every one of those bullets _hit_," said the Doctor with unusual emphasis.
"We must get under cover at once," said Dick. "They'll be back shortly with others!"
"Then we must fortify our position," said the Senator, "and wait for relief. As we were, though, it was lucky they tried a hand-to-hand fight first. This hill shelters us on one side. There are so many trees that they can't roll stones down, nor can they shoot us. We'll fix a barricade in front with our baggage. We'll have to fight behind a barricade this time; though, by the Eternal! I wish it were hand-to-hand again, for I don't remember of ever having had such a glorious time in all my born days!"
The Senator passed his hand over his gory brow, and walked to the coach.
"Where's Pietro?"
"Pietro! _Pietro_!"
No answer.
"PI-E-TRO!"
Still no answer.
"Pietro!" cried Dick, "if you don't come here I'll blow your--"
"Oh! is it you, Signori?" exclaimed Pietro's voice; and that worthy appeared among the trees a little way up the hill. He was deadly pale, and trembled so much that he could scarcely speak.
"Look here!" cried Buttons; "we are going to barricade ourselves."
"Barricade!"
"We can not carry our baggage away, and we are not going to leave it behind. We expect to have another battle."
Pietro's face grew livid.
"You can stay and help us if you wish."
Pietro's teeth chattered.
"Or you can help us far more, by running to the nearest town and letting the authorities know."
"Oh, Signore, trust me! I go."
"Make haste, then, or you may find us all murdered, and then how will you get your fares--eh?"
"I go--I go; I will run all the way!"
"Won't you take a gun to defend yourself with?"
"Oh no!" cried Pietro, with horror. "No, no!"
In a few minutes he had vanished among the thick woods.
Pietro.
[Illustration: Pietro.]
After stripping the prostrate Italians the travellers found themselves in possession of seven rifles, with cartridges, and some other useful articles. Four of these men were stone-dead. They pulled their bodies in front of their place of shelter. The wounded men they drew inside, and the Doctor at once attended to them, while the others were strengthening the barricade.
"I don't like putting these here," said the Senator; "but it'll likely frighten the brigands, or make them delicate about firing at us. That's my idee."
The horses were secured fast. Then the baggage was piled all around, and made an excellent barricade. With this and the captured rifles they felt themselves able to encounter a small regiment.
"Now let them come on," cried the Senator, "just as soon as they damn please! We'll try first the European system of barricades; and if that don't work, then we can fall back, on the real original, national, patriotic, independent, manly, native American, true-blue, and altogether heroic style!"
"What is that?"
The Senator looked at the company, and held out his clenched fist:
"Why, from behind a tree, in the woods, like your glorious forefathers!"
The Barricade.
[Illustration: The Barricade.]
CHAPTER XL.
PLEASANT MEDIATIONS ABOUT THE WONDERS OF TOBACCO; AND THREE PLEASANT ANECDOTES BY AN ITALIAN BRIGAND.
A pull apiece at the brandy-flask restored strength and freshness to the beleaguered travellers, who now, intrenched behind their fortifications, awaited any attack which the Italians might choose to make.
"The _I_talians," said the Senator, "are not a powerful race. By no means. Feeble in body--no muscle--no brawn. Above all, no real _pluck_. Buttons, is there a word in their language that expresses the exact idee of _pluck_?"
"Or _game_?"
"No."
"Or even _spunk_?"
"No."
"I thought not," said the Senator, calmly. "They haven't the _idee_, and can't have the word. Now it would require a rather considerable crowd to demolish us at the present time."
"How long will we have to stay here?" asked Mr. Figgs abruptly.
"My dear Sir," said Buttons, with more sprightliness than he had shown for many days, "be thankful you are here at all. We'll get off at some time to-day. These fellows are watching us, and the moment we start they'll fire on us. We would be a good mark for them in the coach. No, we must wait a while."
Seated upon the turf, they gave themselves up to the pleasing influence that flows from the pipe. Is there any thing equal to it? How did the ancients contrive to while away the time without it? Had they known its effects how they would have cherished it! We should now be gazing on the ruins of venerable temples, reared by adoring votaries to the goddess Tabaca. Boys at school would have construed passages about her. Lempriere, Smith, Anthon, Drissler, and others would have done honor to her. Classic mythology would have been full of her presence. Olympian Jove would have been presented to us with this divinity as his constant attendant, and a nimbus around his immortal brows of her making. Bacchus would have had a rival, a superior!
Poets would have told how TABACA went over the world girt in that but set off the more her splendid radiance. We should have known how much Bacchus had to do with [Transcriber's Note: Greek Transliteration] ta bakcheia [/end Greek]; a chapter which will probably be a lost one in the History of Civilization. But that he who smokes should drink beer is quite indisputable. Whether the beer is to be X, XX, or XXX; or whether the brewer's name should begin with an A, as in Alsopp, and run through the whole alphabet, ending with V, as in Vassar, may be fairly left to individual consideration.
What noble poetry, what spirited odes, what eloquent words, has not the world lost by the ignorance of the Greek and Roman touching this plant?
The above remarks were made by Dick on this occasion. But Buttons was talking with the wounded Italians.
The Doctor had bound up their wounds and Buttons had favored them with a drop from his flask. Dick cut up some tobacco and filled a pipe for each. After all, the Italians were not fiends. They had attacked them not from malice, but purely from professional motives.
Yet, had their enemies been Tedeschi, no amount of attention would have overcome their sullen hate. But being Americans, gay, easy, without malice, in fact kind and rather agreeable, they softened, yielded altogether, and finally chatted familiarly with Buttons and Dick. They were young, not worse in appearance than the majority of men; perhaps not bad fellows in their social relations; at any rate, rather inclined to be jolly in their present circumstances. They were quite free in their expressions of admiration for the bravery of their captors, and looked with awe upon the Doctor's revolver, which was the first they had ever seen.
In fact, the younger prisoner became quite communicative. Thus:
"I was born in Velletri. My age is twenty-four years. I have never shed blood except three times. The first time was in Narni--odd place, Narni. My employer was a vine-dresser. The season was dry; the brush caught fire, I don't know how, and in five minutes a third of the vineyard was consumed to ashes. My employer came cursing and raving at me, and swore he'd make me work for him till I made good the loss. Enraged, I struck him. He seized an axe. I drew my stiletto, and--of course I had to run away.
"The second time was in Naples. The affair was brought about by a woman. Signore, women are at the bottom of most crimes that men commit. I was in love with her. A friend of mine fell in love with her too. I informed him that if he interfered with me I would kill him. I told her that if she encouraged him I would kill him and her too. I suppose she was piqued. Women will get piqued sometimes. At any rate she gave him marked encouragement. I scolded and threatened. No use. She told me she was tired of me; that I was too tyrannical. In fact, she dared to turn me off and take the other fellow. Maffeo was a good fellow. I was sorry for him, but I had to keep my word.
"The third time was only a month ago. I robbed a Frenchman, out of pure patriotism--the French, you know, are our oppressors--and kept what I found about him to reward me for my gallant act. The Government, however, did not look upon it in a proper light. They sent out a detachment to arrest me. I was caught, and by good fortune brought to an inn. At night I was bound tightly and shut up in the same room with the soldiers. The innkeeper's daughter, a friend of mine, came in for something, and by mere chance dropped a knife behind me. I got it, cut my cords, and when they were all asleep I departed. Before going I left the knife behind; and where now, Signore, do you think I left it?"
"I have no idea."
"You would never guess. You never would have thought of it yourself."
"Where did you leave it?"
"In the heart of the Captain."
CHAPTER XLI.
FINAL ATTACK OF REINFORCEMENTS OF BRIGANDS.--THE DODGE CLUB DEFIES THEM AND REPELS THEM.--HOW TO MAKE A BARRICADE.--FRATERNIZATION OF AMERICAN EAGLE AND GALLIC COCK.--THERE'S NOTHING LIKE LEATHER.
"It is certainly a singular position for an American citizen to be placed in," said the Senator. "To come from a cotton-mill to such a regular out-and-out piece of fighting as this. Yet it seems to me that fighting comes natural to the American blood."
"They've been very quiet for ever so long," said Mr. Figgs; "perhaps they've gone away."
"I don't believe they have, for two reasons. The first is, they are robbers, and want our money; the second, they are Italians, and want revenge. They won't let us off so easily after the drubbing we gave them."
Thus Buttons, and the others rather coincided in his opinion. For several miles further on the road ran through a dangerous place, where men might lurk in ambush, and pick them off like so many snipe. They rather enjoyed a good fight, but did not care about being regularly shot down. So they waited.
It was three in the afternoon. Fearfully hot, too, but not so bad as it might have been. High trees sheltered them. They could ruminate under the shade. The only difficulty was the want of food. What can a garrison do that is ill provided with eatables? The Doctor's little store of crackers and cheese was divided and eaten. A basket of figs and oranges followed. Still they were hungry.
"Well," said Dick, "there's one thing we can do if the worst comes to the worst."
"What's that?"
"Go through the forest in Indian file back to Perugia."
"That's all very well," said the Senator, stubbornly, "but we're not going back. No, Sir, not a step!"
"I'm tired of this," said Buttons, impatiently. "I'll go out as scout."
"I'll go too," said Dick.
"Don't go far, boys," said the Senator, in the tone of an anxious father.
"No, not very. That hill yonder will be a good lookout place."
"Yes, if you are not seen yourselves."
"We'll risk that. If we see any signs of these scoundrels, and find that they see us, we will fire to let you know. If we remain undiscovered we will come back quietly."
"Very well. But I don't like to let you go off alone, my boys; it's too much of an exposure."
"Nonsense."
"I have a great mind to go too."
"No, no, you had better stay to hold our place of retreat. We'll come back, you know."
"Very well, then."
The Senator sat himself down again, and Buttons and Dick vanished among the trees. An hour passed; the three in the barricade began to feel uneasy; the prisoners were asleep and snoring.
"Hang it," cried the Senator, "I wish I had gone with them!"
"Never fear," said the Doctor, "they are too nimble to be caught just yet. If they had been caught you'd have heard a little firing."
At that very moment the loud report of a rifle burst through the air, followed by a second; upon which a whole volley poured out. The three started to their feet.
"They are found!" cried the Senator. "It's about a mile away. Be ready."
Mr. Figgs had two rifles by his side, and sat looking at the distance with knitted brows. He had received some terrific bruises in the late mÊlÉe, but was prepared to fight till he died. He had said but little through the day. He was not talkative. His courage was of a quiet order. He felt the solemnity of the occasion. It was a little different from sitting at the head of a Board of bank directors, or shaving notes in a private office. At the end of about ten minutes there was a crackling among the bushes. Buttons and Dick came tumbling down into the road.
"Get ready! Quick. They're here!"
"All ready."
"All loaded?"
"Yes."
"We saw them away down the road, behind a grove of trees. We couldn't resist, and so fired at them. The whole band leaped up raving, and saw us, and fired. They then set off up the road to this place, thinking that we are divided. They're only a few rods away."
"How many are there of them?"
"Fourteen."
"They must have got some more. There were only ten able-bodied, unwounded men when they left."
"Less," said the Doctor; "my pistol--"
"H'st!"
At this moment they heard the noise of footsteps. A band of armed men came in sight. Halting cautiously, they examined the barricade. Bang! It was the Doctor's revolver. Down went one fellow, yelling. The rest were frantic. Like fools, they made a rush at the barricade.
Bang! a second shot, another wounded. A volley was the answer. Like fools, the brigands fired against the barricade. No damage was done. The barricade was too strong.
The answer to this was a withering volley from the Americans. The bandits reeled, staggered, fell back, shrieking, groaning, and cursing. Two men lay dead on the road. The others took refuge in the woods.
For two hours an incessant fire was kept up between the bandits in the woods and the Americans in their retreat. No damage was done on either side.
"Those fellows try so hard they almost deserve to lick us," said the Senator dryly.
Suddenly there came from afar the piercing blast of a trumpet.
"Hark!" cried Buttons.
Again.
A cavalry trumpet!
"They are horsemen!" cried Dick, who was holding his ear to the ground; and then added:
"[Transcriber's Note: Greek Transliteration] ippon m okupodon amphi ktupos ouata ballei [/end Greek]."
"Hey?" cried the Senator; "water barley?"
Again the sound. A dead silence. All listening.
And now the tramp of horses was plainly heard. The firing had ceased altogether since the first blast of the trumpet. The bandits disappeared. The horsemen drew nearer, and were evidently quite numerous. At last they burst upon the scene, and the little garrison greeted them with a wild hurrah. They were French dragoons, about thirty in number. Prominent among them was Pietro, who at first stared wildly around, and then, seeing the Americans, gave a cry of joy.
The travellers now came out into the road, and quick and hurried greetings were interchanged. The commander of the troop, learning that the bandits had just left, sent off two-thirds of his men in pursuit, and remained with the rest behind.
Pietro had a long story to tell of his own doings. He had wandered through the forest till he came to Perugia. The commandant there listened to his story, but declined sending any of his men to the assistance of the travellers. Pietro was in despair. Fortunately a small detachment of French cavalry had just arrived at Perugia on their way to Rome and the captain was more merciful. The gallant fellow at once set out, and, led by Pietro, arrived at the place most opportunely.
It did not take long to get the coach ready again. One horse was found to be so badly wounded that it had to be killed. The others were slightly hurt. The baggage and trunks were riddled with bullets. These were once more piled up, the wounded prisoners placed inside, and the travellers, not being able to get in all together, took turns in walking.
At the next town the prisoners were delivered up to the authorities. The travellers celebrated their victory by a grand banquet, to which they invited the French officer and the soldiers, who came on with them to this town. Uproar prevailed. The Frenchmen were exuberant in compliments to the gallantry of their entertainers. Toasts followed.
"The Emperor and President!"
"America and France!"
"Tricolor and stars!"
"The two countries intertwined!"
"A song, Dick!" cried the Senator, who always liked to hear Dick sing. Dick looked modest.
An International Affair.
[Illustration: An International Affair.]
"Strike up!"
"What?"
"The 'Scoodoo abscook!'" cried Mr Figgs.
"No; 'The Old Cow!'" cried Buttons.
"'The Pig by the Banks of the River!'" said the Doctor.
"Dick, don't," said the Senator. "I'll tell you an appropriate song. These Frenchmen believe in France. We believe in America. Each one thinks there is nothing like Leather. Sing 'Leather,' then."
FIGGS. BUTTONS. THE DOCTOR.} "Yes, 'Leather!'"
"Then let it be 'Leather,'" said Dick; and he struck up the following (which may not be obtained of any of the music publishers), to a very peculiar tune:
I.
"Mercury! Patron of melody,
Father of Music and Lord,
Thine was the skill that invented
Music's harmonious chord.
Sweet were the sounds that arose,
Sweetly they blended together;
Thus, in the ages of old,
Music arose out of--LEATHER!
[_Full chorus by all the company_.]
"Then Leather! sing Leather! my lads!
Mercury! Music!! and Leather!!!
Of all the things under the sun,
Hurrah! there is nothing like _Leather_!
[_Extra Chorus, descriptive of a Cobbler hammering on his Lapstone_.]
"Then Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!!! say we!
II.
"War is a wonderful science,
Mars was its patron, I'm told,
How did he used to accoutre
Armies in battles of old?
With casque, and with sling, and with shield,
With bow-string and breastplate together;
Thus, in the ages of old,
War was begun out of--LEATHER!
[_Chorus_.]
"Then Leather! sing Leather! my lads!
Mars and his weapons of Leather!!!
Of all the things under the sun,
Hurrah! there is nothing like _Leather_!
[_Extra Chorus_.]
"Then Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!!! say we!
III.
"Love is a pleasing emotion,
All of us know it by heart;
Whence, can you tell me, arises
Love's overpowering smart?
Tipped with an adamant barb,
Gracefully tufted with feather,
Love's irresistible dart
Comes from a quiver of--LEATHER!
[_Chorus_.]
"Then Leather! sing Leather, my lads!
Darts! and Distraction!! and Leather!!!
Of all the things under the sun,
Hurrah! there is nothing like _Leather_!
[_Extra Chorus_.]
"Then Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!!! say we!
IV.
"Orators wrote out their speeches,
Poets their verses recited,
Statesmen promulgated edicts,
Sages their maxims indited.
Parchment, my lads, was the article
All used to write on together;
Thus the Republic of Letters
Sprang into life out of--LEATHER!
[_Chorus_.]
"Then Leather! sing Leather, my lads!
Poetry! Science!! and Leather!!!
Of all the things under the sun,
Hurrah! there is nothing like _Leather_!
[_Extra Chorus_.]
"Then Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!
Rub a dub, dub!!! say we!"
CHAPTER XLII.
FLORENCE.--DESPERATION OF BUTTONS, OF MR. FIGGS, AND OF THE DOCTOR.
Florence, the fair!--Certainly it is the fairest of cities. Beautiful for situation; the joy of the whole earth! It has a beauty that grows upon the heart. The Arno is the sweetest of rivers, its valley the loveliest of vales; luxuriant meadows; rich vineyards; groves of olive, of orange, and of chestnut; forests of cypress; long lines of mulberry; the dark purple of the distant Apennines; innumerable white villas peeping through the surrounding groves; the mysterious haze of the sunset, which throws a softer charm over the scene; the magnificent cattle; the fine horses; the bewitching girls, with their broad hats of Tuscan straw; the city itself, with its gloomy old palaces, iron-grated and massive walled, from the ancient holds of street-fighting nobles, long since passed away, to the severe Etruscan majesty of the Pitti Palace; behold Florence!
It is the abode of peace, gentleness, and kindly pleasure (or at any rate it was so when the Club was there). Every stone in its pavement has a charm. Other cities may please; Florence alone can win enduring love. It is one of the very few which a man can select as a permanent home, and never repent of his decision. In fact, it is probably the only city on earth which a stranger can live in and make for himself a true home, so pleasant as to make desire for any other simply impossible.
Florence From San Miniato.
[Illustration: Florence From San Miniato.]
In Florence there is a large English population, drawn there by two powerful attractions. The first is the beauty of the place, with its healthy climate, its unrivalled collections of art, and its connection with the world at large. The second is the astonishing cheapness of living, though, alas! this is greatly changed from former times, since Florence has become the capital of Italy. Formerly a pa
Upon arriving at their lodgings in the evening they stationed themselves at the window and looked out upon the illuminated scene. Dick, finding his emotions too strong to be restrained, took his trombone and entertained a great crowd for hours with all the national airs he knew.
CHAPTER XLV.
THE PRIVATE OPINION OF THE DOCTOR ABOUT FOREIGN TRAVEL.--BUTTONS STILL MEETS WITH AFFLICTIONS.
"The Italians, of at any rate the people of Florence, have just about as much cuteness as you will find anywhere."
Such was the dictum of the Senator in a conversation with his companions after rejoining them at the hotel. They had much to ask; he had much to tell. Never had he been more critical, more approbative. He felt now that he thoroughly understood the Italian question, and expressed himself in accordance with his consciousness.
"Nothing does a feller so much good," said he, "as mixing in all grades of society. It won't ever do to confine our observation to the lower class. We must mingle with the upper crust, who are the leaders of the people."
"Unfortunately," said Buttons, "we are not all Senators, so we have to do the best we can with our limited opportunities."
They had been in Florence long enough, and now the general desire was to go on. Mr. Figgs and the Doctor had greatly surprised the Senator by informing him that they did not intend to go any further.
And why not?
"Well, for my own part," said Mr. Figgs, "the discomforts of travel are altogether too great. It would not be so bad in the winter, but think how horribly hot it is. What is my condition? That of a man slowly suffocating. Think how fat I am. Even if I had the enthusiasm of Dick, or the fun of Buttons, my fat would force me to leave. Can you pretend to be a friend of mine and still urge me to go further? And suppose we passed over into Austrian territory. Perhaps we might be unmolested, but it is doubtful. Suppose, for the sake of argument, that we were arrested and detained. Imagine us--imagine _me_ shut up in a room--or worse, a cell--in the month of July in midsummer, in the hottest part of this burning fiery furnace of a country! What would be left of me at the end of a week, or at the end of even one day? What? A grease spot! A grease spot! Not a bit more, by Jingo!"
A Grease Spot.
[Illustration: A Grease Spot.]
After this speech, which was for him one of extraordinary length and vigor, Mr. Figgs fell exhausted into his chair.
"But you, Doctor," said the Senator, seeing that Mr. Figgs was beyond the reach of persuasion--"you--what reason is there for you to leave? You are young, strong, and certainly not fat."
"No, thank heaven! it is not the heat, or the fear of being suffocated in an Austrian dungeon that influences me."
"What, is the reason?"
"These confounded disturbances," said the Doctor languidly.
"Disturbances?"
"Yes. I hear that the road between this and Bologna swarms with vagabonds. Several diligences have been robbed. I heard a story which shows this state of things. A band of men entered the theatre of a small town along the road while the inhabitants were witnessing the play. At first the spectators thought it was part of the performance. They were soon undeceived. The men drew up in line in front of the stage and levelled their pieces. Then fastening the doors, they sent a number of men around through the house to plunder the whole audience. Not content with this they made the authorities of the town pay a heavy ransom."
"Some one has been humbugging you, Doctor," said Buttons.
"I had it from good authority," said the Doctor, calmly. "These fellows call themselves Revolutionists, and the peasantry sympathize with them."
"Well, if we meet with them there will be a little additional excitement."
"Yes, and the loss of our watches and money."
"We can carry our money where they won't find it, and our bills of exchange are all right, you know."
"I think none of you will accuse me of want of courage. If I met these fellows you know very well that I would go in for fighting them. But what I do object to is the infernal bother of being stopped, detained, or perhaps sent back. Then if any of us got wounded we would be laid up for a month or so. That's what I object to. If I had to do it it would be different, but I see no necessity."
"You surely want to see Lombardy?"
"No, I don't."
"Not Bologna?"
"No."
"Ferrara?"
"No."
"Do you mean to say that you don't want to see Venice and Milan?"
"Haven't the remotest desire to see either of the places. I merely wish to get back again to Paris. It's about the best place I've seen yet, except, of course, my native city, Philadelphia. That I think is without an equal. However, our minds are made up. We don't wish to change your plans--in fact, we never thought it possible. We are going to take the steamer at Leghorn for Marseilles, and go on to Paris."
"Well, Doctor," said Dick, "will you do me one favor before you go?"
"With pleasure. What is it?"
"Sell me your pistol."
"I can't _sell_ it," said the Doctor. "It was a present to me. But I will be happy to lend it to you till we meet again in Paris. We will be sure to meet there in a couple of months at the furthest."
The Doctor took out his pistol and handed it to Dick, who thankfully received it.
"Oh, Buttons," said the Senator, suddenly, "I have good news for you. I ought to have told you before."
"Good news? what?"
"I saw the Spaniards."
"The Spaniards!" cried Buttons, eagerly, starting up. "Where did you see them? When? Where are they? I have scoured the whole town."
"I saw them at a very crowded assembly at the Countess's. There was such a scrouging that I could not get near them. The three were there. The little Don and his two sisters."
"And don't you know any thing about them?"
"Not a hooter, except something that the Countess told me. I think she said that they were staying at the villa of a friend of hers."
"A friend? Oh, confound it all! What shall I do?"
"The villa is out of town."
"That's the reason why I never could see them. Confound it all, what shall I do?"
"Buttons," said the Senator, gravely, "I am truly sorry to see a young man like you so infatuated about foreign women. Do not be offended, I mean it kindly. She may be a Jesuit in disguise; who knows? And why will you put yourself to grief about a little black-eyed gal that don't know a word of English? Believe me, New England is wide, and has ten thousand better gals than ever she began to be. If you will get in love wait till you get home and fall in love like a Christian, a Republican, and a Man."
But the Senator's words had no effect. Buttons sat for a few moments lost in thought. At length he rose and quietly left the room. It was about nine in the morning when he left. It was about nine in the evening when he returned. He looked dusty, fatigued, fagged, and dejected. He had a long story to tell and was quite communicative. The substance of it was this: On leaving the hotel he had gone at once to _La Cica_'s residence, and had requested permission to see her. He could not till twelve. He wandered about and called again at that hour. She was very amiable, especially on learning that he was a friend of the Senator, after whom she asked with deep interest. Nothing could exceed her affability. She told him all that she knew about the Spaniards. They were stopping at the villa of a certain friend of hers whom she named. It was ten miles from the city. The friend had brought them to the assembly. It was but for a moment that she had seen them. She wished for his sake that she had learned more about them. She trusted that he would succeed in his earnest search. She should think that they might still be in Florence, and if he went out at once he might see them. Was this his first visit to Florence? How perfectly he had the Tuscan accent; and why had he not accompanied his friend the Senator to her salon? But it would be impossible to repeat all that _La Cica_ said.
Farewell, Figgs!
[Illustration: Farewell, Figgs!]
Buttons went out to the villa at once; but to his extreme disgust found that the Spaniards, had left on the preceding day for Bologna. He drove about the country for some distance, rested his horses, and took a long walk, after which he returned.
Their departure for Bologna on the following morning was a settled thing. The diligence started early. They had pity on the flesh of Figgs and the spirit of the Doctor. So they bade them good-bye on the evening before retiring.
CHAPTER XLVI.
A MEMORABLE DRIVE.--NIGHT.--THE BRIGANDS ONCE MORE.--GARIBALDI'S NAME.--THE FIRE.--THE IRON BAR.--THE MAN FROM THE GRANITE STATE AND HIS TWO BOYS.
"The great beauty of this pistol is a little improvement that I have not seen before."
And Dick proceeded to explain.
"Here is the chamber with the six cavities loaded. Now, you see, when you wish, you touch this spring and out pops the butt."
"Well?"
"Very well. Here I have another chamber with six cartridges: It's loaded, the cartridges are covered with copper and have detonating powder at one end. As quick as lightning I put this on, and there you have the pistol ready to be fired again six times."
"So you have twelve shots?"
"Yes."
"And cartridges to spare?"
"The Doctor gave me all that he had, about sixty, I should think."
"You have enough to face a whole army--"
"Precisely--and in my coat-pocket."
This conversation took place in the banquette of the diligence that conveyed Dick, Buttons, and the Senator from Florence to Bologna. A long part of the journey had been passed over. They were among the mountains.
"Do you expect to use that?" asked the Senator, carelessly.
"I do."
"You believe these stories then?"
"Yes; don't you?"
"Certainly."
"So do I," said Buttons. "I could not get a pistol; but I got this from an acquaintance."
And he drew from his pocket an enormous bowie-knife.
"Bowie-knives are no good," said the Senator. "Perhaps they may do if you want to assassinate; but for nothing else. You can't defend yourself. I never liked it. It's not American. It's not the direct result of our free institutions."
"What have you then?"
"This," said the Senator.
And he lifted up a crow-bar from the front of the coach. Brandishing it in the air as easily as an ordinary man would swing a walking-stick. He looked calmly at his astonished companions.
"You see," said he, "there are several reasons why this is the best sort of weapon for me. A short knife is no use. A sword is no good, for I don't know the sword exercise. A gun is worthless; I would fire it off once and then have to use it as a club. It would then be apt to break. That would be disagreeable--especially in the middle of a fight. A stick or club of any kind would be open to the same objection. What, then, is the weapon for me? Look at me. I am big, strong, and active. I have no skill. I am brute strength. So a club is my only weapon--a club that won't break. Say iron, then. There you have it."
And the Senator swung the ponderous bar around in a way that showed the wisdom of his choice.
"You are about right," said Buttons. "I venture to say you'll do as much mischief with that as Dick will with his pistol. Perhaps more. As for me, I don't expect to do much. Still, if the worst comes, I'll try to do what I can."
"We may not have to use them," said the Senator. "Who are below?"
"Below?"
"In the coach?"
"Italians."
"Women?"
"No, all men. Two priests, three shop-keeper-looking persons, and a soldier."
"Ah! Why, we ought to be comparatively safe."
"Oh, our number is not any thing. The country is in a state of anarchy. Miserable devils of half-starved Italians swarm along the road, and they will try to make hay while the sun shines. I have no doubt we will be stopped half a dozen times before we get to Bologna."
"I should think," said the Senator, indignantly, "that if these chaps undertake to govern the country--these republican chaps--they had ought to govern it. What kind of a way is this to leave helpless travellers at the mercy of cut-throats and assassins?"
"They think," said Buttons, "that their first duty is to secure independence, and after that they will promote order."
"The Florentines are a fine people--a people of remarkable cuteness and penetration; but it seems to me that they are taking things easy as far as fighting is concerned. They don't send their soldiers to the war, do they?"
"Well, no, I suppose they think their army may be needed nearer home. The Grand Duke has long arms yet; and knows how to bribe."
By this time they were among the mountain forests where the scenery was grander, the air cooler, the sky darker, than before. It was late in the day, and every mile increased the wildness of the landscape and the thickness of the gloom. Further and further, on they went till at least they came to a winding-place where the road ended at a gully over which there was a bridge. On the bridge was a barricade. They did not see it until they had made a turn where the road wound, where at once the scene burst on their view.
The leaders reared, the postillions swore, the driver snapped his whip furiously. The passengers in "coupÉ," "rotonde," and "interieure" popped out their heads, the passengers on the "banquette" stared, until at last, just as the postillions were dismounting to reconnoitre, twelve figures rose up from behind the barricade, indistinct in the gloom, and bringing their rifles to their shoulders took aim.
The driver yelled, the postillions shouted, the passengers shrieked. The three men in the banquette prepared for a fight. Suddenly a loud voice was heard from behind. They looked. A number of men stood there, and several more were leaping out from the thick woods on the right. They were surrounded. At length one of the men came forward from behind.
"You are at our mercy," said he. "Whoever gives up his money may go free. Whoever resists dies. Do you hear?"
Meanwhile the three men in the banquette had piled some trunks around, and prepared to resist till the last extremity. Dick was to fire; Buttons to keep each spare butt loaded; the Senator to use his crow-bar on the heads of any assailants. They waited in silence. They heard the brigands rummaging through the coach below, the prayers of the passengers, their appeals for pity, their groans at being compelled to give up every thing.
"The cowards don't deserve pity!" cried the Senator. "There are enough to get up a good resistance. We'll show fight, anyhow!"
In The Coach.
[Illustration: In The Coach.]
Scarcely had he spoke when three or four heads appeared above the edge of the coach.
"Haste!--your money!" said one.
"Stop!" said Buttons. "This gentleman is the American Plenipotentiary Extraordinary, who has just come from Florence, and is on his way to communicate with Garibaldi."
"Garibaldi!" cried the man, in a tone of deep respect.
"Yes," said Buttons, who had not miscalculated the effect of that mighty name. "If you harm us or plunder us you will have to settle your account with Garibaldi--that's all!"
The man was silent. Then he leaped down, and in another moment another man came.
"Which is the American Plenipotentiary Extraordinary?"
"He," said Buttons, pointing to the Senator.
"Ah! I know him. It is the same. I saw him at his reception in Florence, and helped to pull his carriage."
The Senator calmly eyed the brigand, who had respectfully taken off his hat.
"So you are going to communicate with Garibaldi at once. Go in peace! Gentlemen every one of us fought under Garibaldi at Rome. Ten years ago he disbanded a large number of us among these mountains. I have the honor to inform you that ever since that time I have got my living out of the public, especially those in the service of the Government. You are different. I like you because you are Americans. I like you still better because you are friends of Garibaldi. Go in peace! When you see the General tell him Giuglio Malvi sends his respects."
And the man left them. In about a quarter of an hour the barricade was removed, and the passengers resumed their seats with lighter purses but heavier hearts. The diligence started, and once more went thundering along the mountain road.
"I don't believe we've seen the last of these scoundrels yet," said Buttons.
"Nor I," said Dick.
A general conversation followed. It was late, and but few things were visible along the road. About two hours passed away without any occurrence.
"Look!" cried Dick, suddenly.
They looked.
About a quarter of a mile ahead a deep red glow arose above the forest, illumining the sky. The windings of the road prevented them from seeing the cause of it. The driver was startled, but evidently thought it was no more dangerous to go on than to stop. So he lashed up his horses and set them off at a furious gallop. The rumble of the ponderous wheels shut out all other sounds. As they advanced the light grew more vivid.
"I shouldn't wonder," said the Senator, "if we have another barricade here. Be ready, boys! We won't get off so easily this time."
The other two said not a word. On, and on. The report of a gun suddenly roused all. The driver lashed his horses. The postillions took the butts of their riding-whips and pelted the animals. The road took a turn, and, passing this a strange scene burst upon their sight.
A wide, open space on the road-side, a collection of beams across the road, the shadowy forms of about thirty men, and the whole scene dimly lighted by a smouldering fire. As it blazed up a little the smoke rolled off and they saw as overturned carriage, two horses tied to a tree, and two men with their hands bound behind them lying on the ground.
A voice rang out through the stillness which for a moment followed the sudden stoppage of the coach at the barrier. There came a wail from the frightened passengers within--cries for mercy--piteous entreaties.
"Silence, fools!" roared the same voice, which seemed to be that of the leader.
"Wait! wait!" said the Senator to his companions. "Let me give the word."
A crowd of men advanced to the diligence, and as they left the fire Buttons saw three figures left behind--two women and a man. They did not move. But suddenly a loud shriek burst from one of the women. At the shriek Buttons trembled.
"The Spaniards! It is! I know the voice! My God!"
In an instant Buttons was down on the ground and in the midst of the crowd of brigands who surrounded the coach.
Bang! bang! bang! It was not the guns of the brigands, but Dick's pistol that now spoke, and its report was the signal of death to three men who rolled upon the ground in their last agonies. As the third report burst forth the Senator hurled himself down upon the heads of those below. The action of Buttons had broken up all their plans, rendered parley impossible, and left nothing for them to do but to follow him and save him. The brigands rushed at them with a yell of fury.
"Death to them! Death to them all! No quarter!"
"Help!" cried Buttons. "Passengers, we are armed! We can save ourselves!"
But the passengers, having already lost their money, now feared to lose their lives. Not one responded. All about the coach the scene became one of terrible confusion. Guns were fired, blows fell in every direction. The darkness, but faintly illuminated by the fitful firelight, prevented the brigands from distinguishing their enemies very clearly--a circumstance which favored the little band of Americans.
The brigands fired at the coach, and tried to break open the doors. Inside the coach the passengers, frantic with fear, sought to make their voices heard amid the uproar. They begged for mercy; they declared they had no money; they had already been robbed; they would give all that was left; they would surrender if only their lives were spared.
"And, oh! good Americans, yield, yield, or we all die!"
"Americans?" screamed several passionate voices. "Death to the Americans! Death to all foreigners!"
These bandits were unlike the last.
Seated in the banquette Dick surveyed the scene, while himself concealed from view. Calmly he picked out man after man and fired. As they tried to climb up the diligence, or to force open the door, they fell back howling. One man had the door partly broken open by furious blows with the butt of his gun. Dick fired. The ball entered his arm. He shrieked with rage. With his other arm he seized his gun, and again his blows fell crashing. In another instant a ball passed into his brain.
"Two shots wasted on one man! Too much!" muttered Dick; and taking aim again he fired at a fellow who was just leaping up the other side. The wretch fell cursing.
Again! again! again! Swiftly Dick's shots flashed around. He had now but one left in his pistol. Hurriedly he filled the spare chamber with six cartridges, and taking out the other he filled it and placed it in again. He looked down.
A Free Fight.
[Illustration: A Free Fight.]
There was the Senator. More than twenty men surrounded him, firing, swearing, striking, shrieking, rushing forward, trying to tear him from his post. For he had planted himself against the fore-part of the diligence, and the mighty arm whose strength had been so proved at Perugia was now descending again with irresistible force upon the heads of his assailants. All this was the work of but a few minutes. Buttons could not be seen. Dick's preparations were made. For a moment he waited for a favorable chance to get down. He could not stay up there any longer. He must stand by the Senator.
There stood the Senator, his giant form towering up amidst the mÊlÉe, his muscular arms wielding the enormous iron bar, his astonishing strength increased tenfold by the excitement of the fight. He never spoke a word.
One after another the brigands went down before the awful descent of that iron bar. They clung together; they yelled in fury; they threw themselves _en masse_ against the Senator. He met them as a rock meets a hundred waves. The remorseless iron bar fell only with redoubled fury. They raised their clubbed muskets in the air and struck at him. One sweep of the iron bar and the muskets were dashed out of their hands, broken or bent, to the ground. They fired, but from their wild excitement their aim was useless. In the darkness they struck at one another. One by one the number of his assailants lessened--they grew more furious but less bold. They fell back a little; but the Senator advanced as they retired, guarding his own retreat, but still swinging his iron bar with undiminished strength. The prostrate forms of a dozen men lay around. Again they rushed at him. The voice of their leader encouraged them and shamed their fears. He was a stoat, powerful man, armed with a knife and a gun.
Don't Speak.
[Illustration: Don't Speak.]
"Cowards! kill this one! This is the one! All the rest will yield if we kill him. Forward!"
That moment Dick leaped to the ground. The next instant the brigands leaped upon them. The two were lost in the crowd. Twelve reports, one after the other, rang into the air. Dick did not fire till the muzzle of his pistol was against his enemy's breast. The darkness, now deeper than ever, prevented him from being distinctly seen by the furious crowd, who thought only of the Senator. But now the fire shooting up brightly at the sudden breath of a strong wind threw a lurid light upon the scene.
There stood Dick, his clothes torn, his face covered with blood, his last charge gone. There stood the Senator, his face blackened with smoke and dust, and red with blood, his colossal form erect, and still the ponderous bar swung on high to fall as terribly as ever. Before him were eight men. Dick saw it all in an instant. He screamed to the passengers in the diligence:
"There are only eight left! Come! Help us take them prisoners! Haste!"
The cowards in the diligence saw how things were. They plucked up courage, and at the call of Dick jumped out. The leader of the brigands was before Dick with uplifted rifle. Dick flung his pistol at his head. The brigand drew back and felled Dick senseless to the ground. The next moment the Senator's arm descended, and, with his head broken by the blow, the robber fell dead.
As though the fall of Dick had given him fresh fury, the Senator sprang after the others. Blow after blow fell. They were struck down helplessly as they ran. At this moment the passengers, snatching up the arms of the prostrate bandits, assaulted those who yet remained. They fled. The Senator pursued--long enough to give each one a parting blow hard enough to make him remember it for a month. When he returned the passengers were gathering around the coach, with the driver and postillions, who had thus far hidden themselves, and were eagerly looking at the dead.
"Off!" cried the Senator, in an awful voice--"Off; you white-livered sneaks! Let me find my two boys!"
CHAPTER XLVII.
BAD BRUISES, BUT GOOD MUSES.--THE HONORABLE SCABS OF DICK.--A KNOWLEDGE OF BONES.
The Senator searched long and anxiously among the fallen bandits for those whom he affectionately called his "boys." Dick was first found. He was senseless.
The Senator carried him to the fire. He saw two ladies and a gentleman standing there. Hurriedly he called on them and pointed to Dick. The gentleman raised his arms. They were bound tightly. The ladies also were secured in a similar manner. The Senator quickly cut the cords from the gentleman, who in his turn snatched the knife and freed the ladies, and then went to care for Dick.
The Senator then ran back to seek for Buttons.
The gentleman flung a quantity of dry brush on the fire, which at once blazed up and threw a bright light over the scene. Meanwhile the passengers were looking anxiously around as though they dreaded a new attack. Some of them had been wounded inside the coach and were groaning and cursing.
The Senator searched for a long time in vain. At last at the bottom of a heap of fallen brigands, whom the Senator had knocked over, he found Buttons. His face and clothes were covered with blood, his forehead was blackened as though by an explosion, his arm was broken and hung loosely as the Senator lifted him up. For a moment he thought that it was all over with him.
He carried him toward the fire. The appearance of the young man was terrible. He beckoned to one of the ladies. The lady approached. One look at the young man and the next instant, with a heart-rending moan, she flung herself on her knees by his side.
"The Spaniard!" said the Senator, recognizing her for the first time. "Ah! he'll be taken care of then."
There was a brook near by, and he hurried there for water. There was nothing to carry it in, so he took his beaver hat and filled it. Returning, he dashed it vigorously in Buttons's face. A faint sigh, a gasp, and the young man feebly opened his eyes. Intense pain forced a groan from him. In the hasty glance that he threw around he saw the face of Ida Francia as she bent over him bathing his brow, her face pale as death, her hand trembling, and her eyes filled with tears. The sight seemed to alleviate his pain. A faint smile crossed his lips. He half raised himself toward her.
"I've found you at last," he said, and that was all.
At this abrupt address a burning flush passed over the face and neck of the young girl. She bent down her head. Her tears flowed faster than ever.
"Don't speak," she said; "you are in too much pain."
She was right, for the next moment Buttons fell back exhausted.
The Senator drew a flask from his pocket and motioned to the young girl to give some to Buttons; and then, thinking that the attention of the SeÑorita would be far better than his, he hurried away to Dick.
So well had he been treated by the Don (whom the reader has of course already recognized) that he was now sitting up, leaning against the driver of the diligence, who was making amends for his cowardice during the fight by kind attention to Dick after it was over.
"My dear boy, I saw you had no bones broken," said the Senator, "and knew you were all right; so I devoted my first attention to Buttons. How do you feel?"
"Better," said Dick, pressing the honest hand which the Senator held out. "Better; but how is Buttons?"
"Recovering. But he is terribly bruised, and his arm is broken."
"His arm broken! Poor Buttons, what'll he do?"
"Well, my boy, I'll try what _I_ can do. I've set an arm before now. In our region a necessary part of a good education was settin' bones."
Dick was wounded in several places. Leaving the Don to attend to him the Senator took his knife and hurriedly made some splints. Then getting his valise, he tore up two or three of his shirts. Armed with these he returned to Buttons. The SeÑorita saw the preparations, and, weeping bitterly, she retired.
"Your arm is broken, my poor lad," said the Senator. "Will you let me fix it for you? I can do it."
"Can you? Oh, then, I am all right! I was afraid I would have to wait till I got to Bologna."
"It would be a pretty bad arm by the time you got there, I guess," said the Senator. "But come--no time must be lost."
His simple preparations were soon made. Buttons saw that he knew what he was about. A few moments of excessive pain, which forced ill-suppressed moans from the sufferer, and the work was done.
After taking a sip from the flask both Buttons and Dick felt very much stronger. On questioning the driver they found that Bologna was not more than twenty miles away. The passengers were busily engaged in removing the barricade. It was decided that an immediate departure was absolutely necessary. At the suggestion of Dick, the driver, postillions, and passengers armed themselves with guns of the fallen brigands.
The severest wound which Dick had was on his head, which had been almost laid open by a terrific blow from the gun of the robber chief. He had also wounds on different parts of his body. Buttons had more. These the Senator bound up with such skill that he declared himself ready to resume his journey. Upon this the Don insisted on taking him into his own carriage. Buttons did not refuse.
At length they all started, the diligence ahead, the Don following. On the way the Don told Buttons how he had fared on the road. He had left Florence in a hired carriage the day before the diligence had left. He had heard nothing of the dangers of the road, and suspected nothing. Shortly after entering the mountain district they had been stopped and robbed of all their money. Still he kept on, thinking that there was no further danger. To his horror they were stopped again at the bridge, where the brigands,
"Ah!"
"So I said it to her, and she repeated it. These friends of yours, General, have taken it down, but their spellin' is a little unusual," said the Senator, with a tremendous grin that threatened a new outburst.
"Look. Here is the true-key which this gentleman tried so hard to find."
And taking his pencil the Senator wrote under the strange words the true meaning:
"My willing soul would stay
In such a frame as this,
And sit and sing herself away
To everlasting bliss."
The Interpreter saw it all. He looked profoundly foolish. The whole thing was clear. The Senator's innocence was plain. He turned to explain to the Commandant. The Consul's face exhibited a variety of expressions, over which a broad grimace finally predominated, like sunshine over an April sky. In a few words the whole was made plain to the Commandant. He looked annoyed, glared angrily at the Interpreter, tossed the papers on the floor, and rose to his feet.
Watts Mis-spelled.
[Illustration: Watts Mis-spelled.]
"Give these gentlemen our apologies," said he to the Interpreter. "In times of trouble, when States have to be held subject to martial law, proceedings are abrupt. Their own good sense will, I trust, enable them to appreciate the difficulty of our position. They are at liberty."
At liberty! No sooner were the words spoken than the prisoners bowed and left, in company with the Consul, who eagerly shook hands with all three--particularly the Senator, who, as they were leaving, was heard to whisper something in which these words were audible:
"Wa'al, old hoss! The American eagle showed it claws, anyhow."
CHAPTER LIII.
A MYSTERIOUS FLIGHT.--DESPAIR OF BUTTONS.--PURSUIT.--HISTORIC GROUND, AND HISTORIC CITIES.
It was about seven o'clock in the evening when they reached their hotel. Every thing was as they had left it. Some trifles had occurred, such as a general overhaul of the baggage, in which the Doctor's pistol had again miraculously escaped seizure. Buttons went immediately to call on the Spaniards, but their apartment was closed. Supposing that they were out about the town, he returned to his friends.
During their memorable captivity they had eaten but little, and now nothing was more welcome than a dinner. So they ordered the very best that the hotel could supply, and made the American Consul stay. Buttons did not give himself up so completely as the rest to the hilarity of the occasion. Something was on his mind. So he took advantage of a conversation in which the Senator was giving the Consul an animated description of the fight with the brigands, and the pluck of his two "boys," and stole out of the room. Whereupon the Senator stopped and remarked--
"Hang these fellows that are in love!"
"Certainly," said Dick. "They often hang themselves, or feel like it."
"Of course Buttons is on his usual errand."
"Of course."
"It seems to me that his foreign travel has become nothing but one long chase after that gal. He is certainly most uncommon devoted."
Scarce had these words been spoken when the door was flung open, and Buttons made his appearance, much agitated.
"What's the matter?" cried Dick. "The Spaniards!" "Well?" "They're off!" "Off?" "Gone!" "Where?" "Away from Venice." "When?" "I don't know." "Why?" "I don't know."
"What sent them? It looks as though they were running away from you on purpose."
"They're off, at any rate!" cried Buttons. "I went to their room. It was open. The servants were fixing it up. I asked why. They said the Spaniards had left Venice early this morning. They did not know any thing more."
"Strange!"
"Strange, of course. It's so sudden. Their plans were laid out for a week in Venice."
"Perhaps they were frightened at our adventure."
Buttons sprung to the bell and pulled it vigorously. Then he rushed to the door and flung it open. Five or six waiters came tumbling in. They had all been listening at the key-hole.
"Where's the chief waiter?"
"Here," said that functionary, approaching.
"Come here. You may retire," said Buttons to the others. They went out reluctantly.
"Now, my friend," said he, putting some piastres in the hand of the chief waiter. "Think, and answer me right. Where are the Spaniards --a gentleman and two ladies--who came here with us?"
"They have left the city."
"When?"
"At six this morning, by the first train."
"Why did they leave?"
"A hint came from the Commandant."
"From him. Ah! What about?"
"Why--you know--your Excellencies were to waited on by a deputation."
"We were arrested. Well?"
"Well, these Spaniards were friends yours."
"Yes."
"That connection made them suspected."
"Diavolo!"
"Such is the melancholy fact. There was no cause strong enough to lead to their arrest. It would have been inconvenient. So the Commandant sent a message, immediately after your Excellency's lamentable arrest, to warn them--"
"What of?"
"That they had better leave the country at once."
"Yes, but that didn't force them to go."
"Ah, Signore! Do you not know what such a warning is? There is no refusal."
"And so they left."
"At six by the train."
"Where to?"
"Signore, they had their passports made out for Milan."
"Milan!"
"Certainly. It was necessary for them not only to leave Venice, but Venetia."
"Very well. When does the next train leave?"
"Not till to-morrow morning at six."
"You must call us then at five, for we are going. Here, take our passports and get them visÉd;" and having explained matters to the Senator, Buttons found no need of persuasion to induce them to quit the city, so the passports were handed over to the waiter.
So at six the next morning they went flying over the sea, over the lagoons, over the marshes, over the plains, away toward Lombardy.
Formalities.
[Illustration: Formalities.]
They had to stop for a while at Verona, waiting to comply with "some formalities." They had time to walk about the town and see the Roman ruins and the fortifications. Of all these much might be said, if it were not to be found already in Guide-books, Letters of Correspondents, Books of Travel, Gazetteers, and Illustrated Newspapers. Our travellers saw enough of the mighty military works, in a brief survey, to make them thoroughly comprehend the Peace of Villafranca. In the neighborhood of Solferino they left the train to inspect the scene of battle. Only a month had passed since the terrific contest, and the traces remained visible on every side. The peasants had made two trenches of enormous size. In one of these the bodies of the Austrians had been buried, in the other those of the French and Italians. In one place there was a vast heap of arms, which had been gathered from off the field. There was no piece among them which was not bent or broken. All were of the best construction and latest pattern, but had seen their day. Shattered trees, battered walls, crumbling houses, deep ruts in the earth, appeared on every side to show where the battle had raged; yet already the grass, in its swift growth, had obliterated the chief marks of the tremendous conflict.
At length they arrived at Milan. The city presented a most imposing appearance. Its natural situation, its magnificent works of architecture, its stately arches and majestic avenues presented an appearance which was now heightened by the presence of victory. It was as though the entire population had given themselves up to rejoicing. The evil spirit had been cast out, and the house thoroughly swept and garnished. The streets were filled with gay multitudes; the avenues resounded with the thrilling strains of the Marseillaise, repeated everywhere; every window displayed the portrait of Napoleon, Victor Emanuel, or Garibaldi, and from every house-top flaunted the tri-color. The heavy weight imposed by the military rule--the iron hand, the cruelty, the bands of spies, the innumerable soldiers sent forth by Austria--had been lifted off, and in the first reaction of perfect liberty the whole population rushed into the wildest demonstrations of joy and gayety. The churches were all marked by the perpetual presence of the emblems of Holy Peace, and Heavenly Faith, and Immortal Hope. The sublime Cathedral, from all its marble population of sculptured saints and from all its thousands of pinnacles, sent up one constant song. Through the streets marched soldiers--regular, irregular, horse, foot, and dragoons; cannon thundered at intervals through every day; volunteer militia companies sprang up like butterflies to flash their gay uniforms in the sun.
It was not the season for theatres. _La Scala_ had opened for a few nights when Napoleon and Victor Emanuel where here, but had closed again. Not so the smaller theatres. Less dignified, they could burst forth unrestrained. Especially the Day Theatres, places formed somewhat on the ancient model, with open roofs. In these the spectators can smoke. Here the performance begins at five or six and ends at dark. All the theatres on this season, day or night alike, burst forth into joy. The war was the universal subject. Cannon, fighting, soldiers, gunpowder, saltpetre, sulphur, fury, explosions, wounds, bombardments, grenadiers, artillery, drum, gun, trumpet, blunderbuss, and thunder! Just at that time the piece which was having the greatest run was THE VICTORY Of SOLFERINO!
Two theatres exhibited this piece with all the pomp and circumstance of glorious war. Another put out in a pantomime "The Battle of Malegnano!"
Another, "The Fight at Magenta!" But perhaps the most popular of all was "GARIBALDI IN VARESE, _od_ I CACCIATORI DEGLI ALPI!"
CHAPTER LIV.
DICK MEETS AN OLD FRIEND.--THE EMOTIONAL NATURE OF THE ITALIAN. --THE SENATOR OVERCOME AND DUMBFOUNDED.
The day of their arrival at Milan was distinguished by a pleasing circumstance. Buttons found the Spaniards, and was happy. And by another circumstance, scarcely less pleasing, Dick found an old acquaintance.
On this wise:
Finding himself in Milan he suddenly called to mind an old friend with whom he had been intimate in Boston. He had been exiled from Italy on account of his connection with the movements of 1848. He had fled to America, and had taken with him barely enough to live on. For five years he had lived in Boston under the plain name of _Hugh Airey_. Then Dick met with him, and had been attracted by the polished manners, melancholy air, and high spirit of the unfortunate exile. In the course of time their acquaintance ripened into intimate friendship. Dick introduced him to all his friends, and did all in his power to make his life pleasant. From him he had learned Italian, and under his guidance formed a wide and deep acquaintance with Italian literature. In 1858 Mr. Airey decided to return to Italy and live in Turin till the return of better days. Before leaving he confided to Dick the fact that he belonged to one of the oldest families in Lombardy, and that he was the Count Ugo di Gonfiloniere. The exile bade Dick and all his friends good-bye and departed. Since then Dick had heard from him but once. The Count was happy, and hopeful of a speedy return of better days for his country. His hopes had been realized, as the world knows.
The Count Ugo.
[Illustration: The Count Ugo.]
Dick had no difficulty in finding out where he lived, and went to call on him. It was a magnificent palace. Throngs of servants were around the entrance. Dick sent up his name, and was conducted by a servant to an ante-chamber. Scarcely had he finished a hasty survey of the apartment when hurried footsteps were heard. He turned. The Count came rushing into the room, flushed and trembling, and without a word threw himself into Dick's arms, embraced him, and kissed him. It was a trying moment for Dick. Nothing is so frightful to a man of the Anglo-Saxon race as to be hugged and kissed by a man. However, Dick, felt deeply touched at the emotion of his friend and his grateful remembrance of himself.
"This is a circumstance most unexpected!" cried the Count. "Why did you not write and tell me that you were coming, my dearest friend? I did not know that you were in Italy. But perhaps you wished to give me a surprise?" And then the Count asked after all the friends in America, for whom he still evinced the tenderest attachment.
On being questioned he related his own subsequent adventures. After leaving America he went at once to Turin. Though proscribed in Lombardy he was free in Piedmont. He managed to communicate secretly with his relatives in Milan, and lived comfortably. At length he became aware of the great movement on foot which ended in the Italian war. He had thrown himself altogether in the good cause, and, without being at all disheartened by his former misfortunes, he embarked energetically in the current of events. He was at once recognized by the Sardinian Government as a powerful recruit, and appointed to an important military command. Finally war was declared. The French came, the Count had taken a conspicuous part in the events of the war, had been present at every battle, and had been promoted for his gallant conduct. Fortunately he had not once been wounded. On the occupation of Milan by the Allies he had regained all his rights, titles, privileges, and estates. He was a happy man. His ten years of exile had given him a higher capacity for enjoyment. He looked forward to a life of honor and usefulness. He had found joy harder to endure than grief; the reunion with all his old friends and relations, the presence of all the familiar scenes of his native land had all well-nigh overcome him. Yet he assured Dick that no friend with whom he had met was more welcome to his sight than he, and the joy that he felt at seeing him had only been exceeded once in his life--that one time having been on the occasion of the entrance of the Allies into Milan.
And now that he was here, where was his luggage? Did he come without it? There was certainly only one place in the city where he could stop. He must remain nowhere else but here. Dick modestly excused himself. He was scarcely prepared. He was travelling in company with friends, and would hardly like to leave them. The Count looked reproachfully at him. Did he hesitate about that? Why, his friends also must come. He would have no refusal. They all must come. They would be as welcome as himself. He would go with Dick to his hotel in person and bring his friends there.
In a short time the Count and Dick had driven to the hotel, where the former pressed upon the Senator and Buttons an invitation to his house. They were not allowed to refuse, but were taken away, and before they fairly understood the unexpected occurrence they were all installed in magnificent apartments in the Palazzo Gonfaloniere.
Buttons's acquaintance with the language, literature, manners, and customs of Italy made him appreciate his advantages; the friendship of the Count prevented Dick from feeling otherwise than perfectly at home; and as for the Senator, if it had been possible for him to feel otherwise, his experience of high life at Florence would have enabled him to bear himself serenely here. His complete self-possession, his unfaltering gaze, his calm countenance, were never for a moment disturbed.
The Count had been long enough in America to appreciate a man of the stamp of the Senator; he therefore from the very first treated him with marked respect, which was heightened when Dick told him of the Senator's achievements during the past few weeks. The brilliant society which surrounded the Count was quite different from that which the Senator had found in Florence. The people were equally cultivated, but more serious. They had less excitability, but more deep feeling. Milan, indeed, had borne her burden far differently from Florence. Both hated the foreigner; but the latter could be gay, and smiling, and trifling even under her chains; this the former could never be. The thoughtful, earnest, and somewhat pensive Milanese was more to the Senator's taste than the brilliant and giddy Florentine. These, thought he, may well be a free people.
Moreover, the Senator visited the Grand Cathedral, and ascended to the summit. Arriving there his thoughts were not taken up by the innumerable statues of snow-white marble, or the countless pinnacles of exquisite sculpture that extended all around like a sacred forest filled with saints and angels, but rather to the scene that lay beyond.
There spread away a prospect which was superior in his eyes to any thing that he had ever seen before, nor had it ever entered his mind to conceive such a matchless scene. The wide plains of Lombardy, green, glorious, golden with the richest and most inexhaustible fertility; vast oceans of grain and rice, with islands of dark-green trees that bore untold wealth of all manner of fruit; white villas, little hamlets, close-packed villages, dotted the wide expanse, with the larger forms of many a populous town. He looked to the north and to the west. The plain spread away for many a league, till the purple mountains arose as a barrier, rising up till they touched the everlasting ice. He looked to the east and south. There the plains stretched away to the horizon in illimitable extent.
"What a country! All cleared too! Every acre! And the villages! Why, there are thousands if there is one! Dear! dear! dear! How can I have the heart to blow about New England or Boston after that there! Buttons, why don't somebody tell about all this to the folks at home and stop their everlasting bragging? But"--after a long pause--"I'll do it! I'll do it!--this very night. I'll write about it to our paper!"
CHAPTER LV.
IN WHICH BUTTONS WRITES A LETTER; AND IN WHICH THE CLUB LOSES AN IMPORTANT MEMBER.--SMALL BY DEGREES AND BEAUTIFULLY LESS.
But all things, however pleasant, must have an end, so their stay in Milan soon approached its termination.
Buttons and the Senator were both quite willing to leave. The departure of the Spaniards had taken away the charm of Milan. They had already returned to Spain, and had urged Buttons very strongly to accompany them. It cost him a great struggle to decline, but he did so from certain conscientious motives, and promised to do so after going to Paris. So there was an agonizing separation, and all that. At his room Buttons unbosomed himself to his friends.
"I'll begin at the beginning," said he, directing his remarks more particularly to the Senator.
"My father is a rich man, though you may not think I live very much like a rich man's son. The fact is, he is dreadfully afraid that I will turn out a spendthrift. So he gave me only a moderate sum on which to travel on through Europe. So far I have succeeded very well. Excuse my blushes while I make the sweet confession. The SeÑorita whom we all admire will, some of these days, I trust, exchange the musical name of Francia for the plainer one of Buttons."
The Senator smiled with mild and paternal approbation, and shook Buttons by the hand.
"It's all arranged," continued Buttons, with sweet confusion. "Now, under the circumstances, you might think it natural that I should go back with them to Spain."
"I should certainly. Why don't you?"
"For two reasons. The first is, I have barely enough tin left to take me to Paris."
At once both the Senator and Dick offered to make unlimited advances. Buttons made a deprecatory gesture.
"I know well that I could look to you for any help in any way. But that is not the reason why I don't go to Spain. I have money enough for my wants if I don't go there."
"What is the real reason, then?"
"Well, I thought that in an affair of this kind it would be just as well to get the Governor's concurrence, and so I thought I'd drop a line to him. I've just got the letter written, and I'll put it in the mail this evening."
"You have done right, my boy," said the Senator, paternally. "There are many excellent reasons for getting your father's consent in an affair like this."
"I don't mind reading you what I have written," said Buttons, "if you care about hearing it."
"Oh, if you have no objection, we should like to hear very much," said Dick.
Whereupon Buttons, taking a letter from his pocket, read as follows:
"DEAR FATHER,--I have endeavored to follow out your instructions and be as economical as possible.
"During my tour through Italy, have made the acquaintance of the senior member of the house of Francia, in Cadiz, a gentleman with whom you are acquainted. He was travelling with his two sisters. The younger one is very amiable. As I know you would like to see me settled I have requested her hand in marriage.
"As I wish to be married before my return I thought I would let you know. Of course in allying myself to a member of so wealthy a family I will need to do it in good style. Whatever you can send me will therefore be quite acceptable.
"Please reply immediately on receipt of this, addressing me at Paris as before.
"And very much oblige E. BUTTONS."
"Well," said the Senator, "that's a sensible letter. It's to the point. I'm glad to see that you are not so foolish as most lads in your situation. Why should not a man talk as wisely about a partnership of this kind as of any other? I do declare that these rhapsodies, this highblown, high-flown, sentimental twaddle is nauseating."
"You see, Dick," said Buttons, "I must write a letter which will have weight with the old gentleman. He likes the terse business style. I think that little hint about her fortune is well managed too. That's a great deal better than boring him with the state of my affections. Isn't it?"
"There's nothing like adapting your style to the disposition of the person you address," said Dick.
"Well," said the Senator, "you propose to start to-morrow, do you?"
"Yes," said Buttons.
"I'm agreed then I was just beginning to get used up myself. I'm an active man, and when I've squeezed all the juice out of a place I want to throw it away and go to another. What do you say, Dick? You are silent."
"Well, to tell the truth," said Dick, "I don't care about leaving just yet. Gonfaloniere expects me to stay longer, and he would feel hurt if I hurried off, I am very sorry that you are both going. It would be capital if you could only wait here a month or so."
"A month!" cried Buttons. "I couldn't stand it another day. Will nothing induce you to come? What can we do without you?"
"What can I do without you?" said Dick, with some emotion.
"Well, Dick," said the Senator, "I'm really pained. I feel something like a sense of bereavement at the very idea. I thought, of course, we would keep together till our feet touched the sacred soil once more. But Heaven seems to have ordained it otherwise. I felt bad when Figgs and the Doctor left us at Florence, but now I feel worse by a long chalk. Can't you manage to come along nohow?"
"No," said Dick. "I really can not. I really must stay."
"What! must!"
"Yes, must!"
The Senator sighed.
CHAPTER LVI.
THE FAITHFUL ONE!--DARTS, DISTRACTION, LOVE'S VOWS, OVERPOWERING SCENE AT THE MEETING OF TWO FOND ONES.--COMPLETE BREAK-DOWN OF THE HISTORIAN.
About a month after the departure of the Senator and Buttons from Milan, Dick reappeared upon the scene at Rome, in front of the little church which had borne so prominent a part in his fortunes; true to his love, to his hopes, to his promises, with undiminished ardor and unabated resolution. He found the Padre Liguori there, who at once took him to his room in a building adjoining the church.
"Welcome!" said he, in a tone of the deepest pleasure. "Welcome! It has been more than a passing fancy, then."
"It is the only real purpose of my life, I assure you."
"I must believe you," said Liguori, pressing his hand once more.
"And now, where is Pepita?"
"She is in Rome."
"May I see her at once?"
"How at once?"
"Well, to-day."
"No, not to-day. Her brother wishes to see you first. I must go and let them both know that you are here. But she is well and has been so."
Dick looked relieved. After some conversation Liguori told Dick to return in an hour, and he could see the Count. After waiting most impatiently Dick came back again in an hour. On entering he found Luigi. He was dressed as a gentleman this time. He was a strongly knit, well-made man of about thirty, with strikingly handsome and aristocratic features.
"Let me make my peace with you at once," said he, with the utmost courtesy. "You are a brave man, and must be generous. I have done you wrongs for which I shall never forgive myself," and taking Dick's outstretched hand, he pressed it heartily.
"Say nothing about it, I beg," said Dick; "you were justified in what you did, though you may have been a little hasty."
"Had I not been blinded by passion I would have been incapable of such a piece of cowardice. But I have had much to endure, and I was always afraid about her."
With the utmost frankness the two men received each other's explanations, and the greatest cordiality arose at once. Dick insisted on Luigi's taking dinner with him, and Luigi, laughingly declaring that it would be a sign of peace to eat bread and salt together, went with Dick to his hotel.
As they entered Dick's apartments Gonfaloniere was lounging near the window. He had accompanied Dick to Rome. He started at the sight of Luigi.
"God in Heaven!" he cried, bounding to his feet.
"Ugo!" exclaimed the other.
"Luigi!"
And the two men, in true Italian fashion, sprang into one another's arms.
"And is my best friend, and oldest friend, the brother of your betrothed?" asked Gonfaloniere of Dick.
But Dick only nodded. He was quite mystified by all this. An explanation, however, was soon made. The two had been educated together, and had fought side by side in the great movements of '48, under Garibaldi, and in Lombardy.
For full an hour these two friends asked one another a torrent of questions. Luigi asked Gonfaloniere about his exile in America; whereupon the other described that exile in glowing terms--how he landed in Boston, how Dick, then little more than a lad, became acquainted with him, and how true a friend he had been in his misery. The animated words of Gonfaloniere produced a striking effect. Luigi swore eternal friendship with Dick, and finally declared that he must come and see Pepita that very day.
So, leaving Gonfaloniere with the promise of seeing him again, Luigi walked with Dick out to the place where he lived. The reason why he had not wanted him to see Pepita that day was because he was ashamed of their lodgings. But that had passed, and as he understood Dick better he saw there was no reason for such shame. It was a house within a few rods of the church.
Dick's heart throbbed violently as he entered the door after Luigi and ascended the steps inside the court-yard. Luigi pointed to a door and drew back.
The Door.
[Illustration: The Door.]
Dick knocked.
The door opened.
"Pepita!"
***
To describe such a meeting is simply out of the question.
"I knew you would come," said she, after about one solid hour, in which not a single intelligible word was uttered.
"And for you! Oh, Pepita!"
"You do not think now that I was cruel?" and a warm flush overspread the lovely face of the young girl.
"Cruel!" (and Dick makes her see that he positively does not think so).
"I could not do otherwise."
"I love you too well to doubt it."
"My brother hated you so. It would have been impossible. And I could not wound his feelings."
"He's a splendid fellow, and you were right."
"Padre Liguori showed him what you were, and I tried to explain a little," added Pepita, shyly.
"Heaven bless Padre Liguori! As for you--you--"
"Don't."
"Well, your brother understands me at last. He knows that I love you so well that I would die for you."
Tears came into Pepita's eyes as the sudden recollection arose of Dick's misadventure on the road.
***
"Do you remember," asked Dick, softly, after about three hours and twenty minutes--"do you remember how I once wished that I was walking with you on a road that would go on forever?"
"Yes."
"Well, we're on that track now."
[The Historian of these adventures feels most keenly his utter inadequacy to the requirements of this scene. Need he say that the above description is a complete _fiasco_? Reader, your imagination, if you please.]
CHAPTER LVII.
THE DODGE CLUB IN PARIS ONCE MORE.--BUTTONS'S "JOLLY GOOD HEALTH."
Not very long after the events alluded to in the last chapter a brilliant dinner was given in Paris at the "Hotel de Lille et d'Albion." On the arrival of the Senator and Buttons at Paris they had found Mr. Figgs and the Doctor without any trouble. The meeting was a rapturous one. The Dodge Club was again an entity, although an important member was not there. On this occasion the one who gave the dinner was BUTTONS!
He's A Jolly Good Fellow.
[Illustration: He's A Jolly Good Fellow.]
All the delicacies of the season. In fact, a banquet. Mr. Figgs shone resplendently. If a factory was the sphere of the Senator, a supper-table was the place for Mr. Figgs. The others felt that they had never before known fully all the depth of feeling, of fancy, and of sentiment that lurked under that placid, smooth, and rosy exterior. The Doctor was epigrammatic; the Senator sententious; Buttons uproarious.
Dick's health was drunk in bumpers with all the honors:
"For he's a jolly good fe-e-e-e-e-e-llow!
For he's a jolly good fe-e-e-e-e-e-llow!!
For he's a jolly good FE-E-E-E-E-E-LLOW!!!
Which nobody can deny!"
All this time Buttons was more joyous, more radiant, and altogether more extravagant than usual. The others asked themselves, "Why?" In the course of the evening it became known. Taking advantage of a short pause in the conversation he communicated the startling fact that he had that day received a letter from his father.
"Shall I read it?"
"AYE!!!" unanimously, in tones of thunder.
Buttons opened it and read:
DEAR SON.--Your esteemed favor, 15th ult., I have recd.
"I beg leave hereby to express my concurrence with your design.
"My connection with the house of Francia has been of the most satisfactory kind. I have no doubt that yours will be equally so.
"I inclose you draft on Mess. Dupont Geraud, et Cie of Paris, for $5000--say five thousand dollars--rect of which please acknowledge. If this sum is insufficient
