My friend the doctor was a thorough antiquary: a little, rusty1, musty Old fellow, always groping among ruins. He relished3 a building as you Englishmen relish2 a cheese, the more mouldy and crumbling4 it was, the more it was to his taste. A shell of an old nameless temple, or the cracked walls of a broken-down amphitheatre, would throw him into raptures5; and he took more delight in these crusts and cheese parings of antiquity7 than in the best-conditioned, modern edifice8.
He had taken a maggot into his brain at one time to hunt after the Ancient cities of the Pelasgi which are said to exist to this day among the mountains of the Abruzzi; but the condition of which is strangely unknown to the antiquaries. It is said that he had made a great many valuable notes and memorandums on the subject, which he always carried about with him, either for the purpose of frequent reference, or because he feared the precious documents might fall into the hands of brother antiquaries. He had therefore a large pocket behind, in which he carried them, banging against his rear as he walked.
Be this as it may; happening to pass a few days at Terracina, in the course of his researches, he one day mounted the rocky cliffs which overhang the town, to visit the castle of Theodoric. He was groping about these ruins, towards the hour of sunset, buried in his reflections,—his wits no doubt wool-gathering among the Goths and Romans, when he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned and beheld9 five or six young fellows, of rough, saucy10 demeanor11, clad in a singular manner, half peasant, half huntsman, with fusils in their hands. Their whole appearance and carriage left him in no doubt into what company he had fallen.
The doctor was a feeble little man poor, in look and poorer in purse. He had but little money in his pocket; but he had certain valuables, such as an old silver watch, thick as a turnip12, with figures on it large enough for a clock, and a set of seals at the end of a steel chain, that dangled13 half down to his knees; all which were of precious esteem14, being family reliques. He had also a seal ring, a veritable antique intaglio15, that covered half his knuckles16; but what he most valued was, the precious treatise17 on the Pelasgian cities, which, he would gladly have given all the money in his pocket to have had safe at the bottom of his trunk in Terracina.
However, he plucked up a stout18 heart; at least as stout a heart as he could, seeing that he was but a puny19 little man at the hest of times. So he wished the hunters a “buon giorno.” They returned his salutation, giving the old gentleman a sociable20 slap on the back that made his heart leap into his throat.
They fell into conversation, and walked for some time together among The heights, the doctor wishing them all the while at the bottom of the crater21 of Vesuvius. At length they came to a small osteria on the mountain, where they proposed to enter and have a cup of wine together. The doctor consented; though he would as soon have been invited to drink hemlock22.
One of the gang remained sentinel at the door; the others swaggered into the house; stood their fusils in a corner of the room; and each drawing a pistol or stiletto out of his belt, laid it, with some emphasis, on the table. They now called lustily for wine; drew benches round the table, and hailing the doctor as though he had been a boon23 companion of long standing24, insisted upon his sitting down and making merry. He complied with forced grimace26, but with fear and trembling; sitting on the edge of his bench; supping down heartburn with every drop of liquor; eyeing ruefully the black muzzled27 pistols, and cold, naked stilettos. They pushed the bottle bravely, and plied25 him vigorously; sang, laughed, told excellent stories of robberies and combats, and the little doctor was fain to laugh at these cut-throat pleasantries, though his heart was dying away at the very bottom of his bosom28.
By their own account they were young men from the villages, who had Recently taken up this line of life in the mere29 wild caprice of youth. They talked of their exploits as a sportsman talks of his amusements. To shoot down a traveller seemed of little more consequence to them than to shoot a hare. They spoke30 with rapture6 of the glorious roving life they led; free as birds; here to-day, gone to-morrow; ranging the forests, climbing the rocks, scouring31 the valleys; the world their own wherever they could lay hold of it; full purses, merry companions; pretty women.—The little antiquary got fuddled with their talk and their wine, for they did not spare bumpers32. He half forgot his fears, his seal ring, and his family watch; even the treatise on the Pelasgian cities which was warming under him, for a time faded from his memory, in the glowing picture which they drew. He declares that he no longer wonders at the prevalence of this robber mania33 among the mountains; for he felt at the time, that had he been a young man and a strong man, and had there been no danger of the galleys34 in the background, he should have been half tempted35 himself to turn bandit.
At length the fearful hour of separating arrived. The doctor was suddenly called to himself and his fears, by seeing the robbers resume their weapons. He now quaked for his valuables, and above all for his antiquarian treatise. He endeavored, however, to look cool and unconcerned; and drew from out of his deep pocket a long, lank36, leathern purse, far gone in consumption, at the bottom of which a few coin chinked with the trembling of his hand.
The chief of the party observed this movement; and laying his hand upon the antiquary’s shoulder—“Harkee! Signor Dottore!” said he, “we have drank together as friends and comrades, let us part as such. We understand you; we know who and what you are; for we know who every body is that sleeps at Terracina, or that puts foot upon the road. You are a rich man, but you carry all your wealth in your head. We can’t get at it, and we should not know what to do with it, if we could. I see you are uneasy about your ring; but don’t worry your mind; it is not worth taking; you think it an antique, but it’s a counterfeit37—a mere sham38.”
Here the doctor would have put in a word, for his antiquarian pride was touched.
“Nay, nay,” continued the other, “we’ve no time to dispute about it. Value it as you please. Come, you are a brave little old signor—one more cup of wine and we’ll pay the reckoning. No compliments—I insist on it. So—now make the best of your way back to Terracina; it’s growing late—buono viaggio!—and harkee, take care how you wander among these mountains.”
They shouldered their fusils, sprang gaily39 up the rocks, and the little doctor hobbled back to Terracina, rejoicing that the robbers had let his seal ring, his watch, and his treatise escape unmolested, though rather nettled42 that they should have pronounced his veritable intaglio a counterfeit.
The improvvisatore had shown many symptoms of impatience43 during this recital44. He saw his theme in danger of being taken out of his hands by a rival story-teller, which to an able talker is always a serious grievance45; it was also in danger of ............