I am an historical painter by profession, and resided for some time in the family of a foreign prince, at his villa¹, about fifteen miles from Rome, among some of the most interesting scenery of Italy. It is situated² on the heights of ancient Tusculum. In its neighborhood are the ruins of the villas³ of Cicero, Sulla, Lucullus, Rufinus, and other illustrious Romans, who sought refuge here occasionally, from their toils⁴, in the bosom⁵ of a soft and luxurious⁶ repose⁷. From the midst of delightful⁸ bowers⁹, refreshed by the pure mountain breeze, the eye looks over a romantic landscape full of poetical¹⁰ and historical associations. The Albanian mountains, Tivoli, once the favorite residence of Horace and Maecenas; the vast deserted¹¹ Campagna with the Tiber running through it, and St. Peter’s dome¹² swelling¹³ in the midst, the monument—as it were, over the grave of ancient Rome.  
I assisted the prince in the researches he was making among the classic ruins of his vicinity. His exertions¹⁵ were highly successful. Many wrecks¹⁶ of admirable statues and fragments of exquisite¹⁷ sculpture were dug up; monuments of the taste and magnificence that reigned¹⁸ in the ancient Tusculan abodes¹⁹. He had studded his villa and its grounds with statues, relievos, vases, and sarcophagi; thus retrieved²⁰ from the bosom of the earth.
 
The mode of life pursued at the villa was delightfully²² serene²³, diversified²⁴ by interesting occupations and elegant leisure. Every one passed the day according to his pleasure or occupation; and we all assembled in a cheerful dinner party at sunset. It was on the fourth of November, a beautiful serene day, that we had assembled in the saloon at the sound of the first dinner-bell. The family were surprised at the absence of the prince’s confessor. They waited for him in vain, and at length placed themselves at table. They first attributed his absence to his having prolonged his customary walk; and the first part of the dinner passed without any uneasiness. When the dessert was served, however, without his making his appearance, they began to feel anxious. They feared he might have been taken ill in some alley²⁵ of the woods; or, that he might have fallen into the hands of robbers. At the interval²⁶ of a small valley rose the mountains of the Abruzzi, the strong-hold of banditti. Indeed, the neighborhood had, for some time, been infested²⁷ by them; and Barbone, a notorious bandit chief, had often been met prowling about the solitudes²⁸ of Tusculum. The daring enterprises of these ruffians were well known; the objects of their cupidity²⁹ or vengeance³⁰ were insecure even in palaces. As yet they had respected the possessions of the prince; but the idea of such dangerous spirits hovering³¹ about the neighbourhood was sufficient to occasion alarm.
 
The fears of the company increased as evening closed in. The prince ordered out forest guards, and domestics with flambeaux to search for the confessor. They had not departed long, when a slight noise was heard in the corridor of the ground floor. The family were dining on the first floor, and the remaining domestics were occupied in attendance. There was no one on the ground floor at this moment but the house keeper, the laundress, and three field laborers³³, who were resting themselves, and conversing³⁴ with the women.
 
I heard the noise from below, and presuming it to be occasioned by the return of the absentee, I left the table, and hastened down stairs, eager to gain intelligence that might relieve the anxiety of the prince and princess. I had scarcely reached the last step, when I beheld³⁵ before me a man dressed as a bandit; a carbine in his hand, and a stiletto and pistols in his belt. His countenance³⁶ had a mingled³⁷ expression of ferocity and trepidation³⁸. He sprang upon me, and exclaimed exultingly³⁹, “Ecco il principe!”
 
I saw at once into what hands I had fallen, but endeavored to summon up coolness and presence of mind. A glance towards the lower end of the corridor showed me several ruffians, clothed and armed in the same manner with the one who had seized me. They were guarding the two females and the field laborers. The robber, who held me firmly by the collar, demanded repeatedly whether or not I were the prince. His object evidently was to carry off the prince, and extort⁴⁰ an immense ransom⁴¹. He was enraged⁴² at receiving none but vague replies; for I felt the importance of misleading him.
 
A sudden thought struck me how I might extricate⁴³ myself from his clutches. I was unarmed, it is true, but I was vigorous. His companions were at a distance. By a sudden exertion¹⁴ I might wrest⁴⁴ myself from him and spring up the staircase, whither he would not dare to follow me singly. The idea was put in execution as soon as conceived. The ruffian’s throat was bare: with my right hand I seized him by it, just between the mastoides; with my left hand I grasped the arm which held the carbine. The suddenness of my attack took him completely unawares; and the strangling nature of my grasp paralyzed him. He choked and faltered⁴⁵. I felt his hand relaxing its hold, and was on the point of jerking myself away and darting⁴⁶ up the staircase before he could recover himself, when I was suddenly seized by some one from behind.
 
I had to let go my grasp. The bandit, once more released, fell upon me with fury, and gave me several blows with the butt⁴⁷ end of his carbine, one of which wounded me severely⁴⁸ in the forehead, and covered me with blood. He took advantage of my being stunned⁴⁹ to rifle me of my watch and whatever valuables I had about my person.
 
When I recovered from the effects of the blow, I heard the voice of the chief of the banditti, who exclaimed “Quello e il principe, siamo contente, audiamo!” (It is the prince, enough, let us be off.) The band immediately closed round me and dragged me out of the palace, bearing off the three laborers likewise.
 
I had no hat on, and the blood was flowing from my wound; I managed to staunch it, however, with my pocket-handkerchief, which I bound round my forehead. The captain of the band conducted me in triumph, supposing me to be the prince. We had gone some distance before he learnt his mistake from one of the laborers. His rage was terrible. It was too late to return to the villa and endeavor to retrieve²¹ his error, for by this time the alarm must have been given, and every one in arms. He darted⁵⁰ at me a furious look; swore I had deceived him, and caused him to miss his fortune; and told me to prepare for death. The rest of the robbers were equally furious. I saw their hands upon their poinards; and I knew that death was seldom an empty menace with these ruffians.
 
The laborers saw the peril⁵¹ into which their information had betrayed me, and eagerly assured the captain that I was a man for whom the prince would pay a great ransom. This produced a pause. For my part, I cannot say that I had been much dismayed by their menaces. I mean not to make any boast of courage; but I have been so schooled to hardship during the late revolutions, and have beheld death around me in so many perilous⁵² and disastrous⁵³ scenes that I have become, in some measure callous⁵⁴ to its terrors. The frequent hazard of life makes a man at length as reckless of it as a gambler of his money. To their threat of death, I replied: “That the sooner it was executed, the better.” This reply seemed to astonish the captain, and the prospect⁵⁵ of ransom held out by the laborers, had, no doubt, a still greater effect on him. He considered for a moment; assumed a calmer manner, and made a sign to his companions, who had remained waiting for my death warrant. “Forward,” said he, “we will see about this matter by and bye.”
 
We descended⁵⁶ rapidly towards the road of la Molara, which leads to Rocca Priori. In the midst of this road is a solitary⁵⁷ inn. The captain ordered the troop to halt at the distance of a pistol shot from it; and enjoined⁵⁸ profound silence. He then approached the threshold alone with noiseless steps. He examined the outside of the door very narrowly, and then returning precipitately⁵⁹, made a sign for the troop to continue its march in silence. It has since been ascertained⁶⁰ that this was one of those infamous⁶¹ inns which are the secret resorts of banditti. The innkeeper had an understanding with the captain, as he most probably had with the chiefs of the different bands. When any of the patroles and gens d’armes were quartered at his house, the brigands⁶² were warned of it by a preconcerted signal on the door; when there was no such signal, they might enter with safety and be sure of welcome. Many an isolated⁶³ inn among the lonely parts of the Roman territories, and especially on the skirts of the mountains, have the same dangerous and suspicious character. They are places where the banditti gather information; where they concert their plans, and where the unwary traveller, remote from hearing or assistance, is sometimes betrayed to the stiletto of the midnight murderer.
 
After pursuing our road a little farther, we struck off towards the Woody mountains which envelope Rocca Priori. Our march was long and painful, with many circuits and windings

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