I am a native of the village of Prossedi. My father was easy enough In circumstances, and we lived peaceably and independently, cultivating our fields. All went on well with us until a new chief of the sbirri was sent to our village to take command of the police. He was an arbitrary fellow, prying¹ into every thing, and practising all sorts of vexations and oppressions in the discharge of his office.  
I was at that time eighteen years of age, and had a natural love of justice and good neighborhood. I had also a little education, and knew something of history, so as to be able to judge a little of men and their actions. All this inspired me with hatred² for this paltry³ despot. My own family, also, became the object of his suspicion or dislike, and felt more than once the arbitrary abuse of his power. These things worked together on my mind, and I gasped⁴ after vengeance⁵. My character was always ardent⁶ and energetic; and acted upon by my love of justice, determined⁷ me by one blow to rid the country of the tyrant⁸.
 
Full of my project I rose one morning before peep of day, and concealing⁹ a stiletto under my waistcoat—here you see it!—(and he drew forth¹⁰ a long keen poniard)—I lay in wait for him in the outskirts¹¹ of the village. I knew all his haunts, and his habit of making his rounds and prowling about like a wolf, in the gray of the morning; at length I met him, and attacked him with fury. He was armed, but I took him unawares, and was full of youth and vigor¹². I gave him repeated blows to make sure work, and laid him lifeless at my feet.
 
When I was satisfied that I had done for him, I returned with all haste to the village, but had the ill-luck to meet two of the sbirri as I entered it. They accosted¹³ me and asked if I had seen their chief. I assumed an air of tranquillity¹⁵, and told them I had not. They continued on their way, and, within a few hours, brought back the dead body to Prossedi. Their suspicions of me being already awakened¹⁶, I was arrested and thrown into prison. Here I lay several weeks, when the prince, who was Seigneur of Prossedi, directed judicial¹⁸ proceedings¹⁹ against me. I was brought to trial, and a witness was produced who pretended to have seen me not far from the bleeding body, and flying with precipitation, so I was condemned²⁰ to the galleys²¹ for thirty years.
 
“Curse on such laws,” vociferated the bandit, foaming²² with rage; “curse on such a government, and ten thousand curses on the prince who caused me to be adjudged so rigorously, while so many other Roman princes harbor and protect assassins a thousand times more culpable²³. What had I done but what was inspired by a love of justice and my country? Why was my act more culpable than that of Brutus, when he sacrificed Caesar to the cause of liberty and justice?”
 
There was something at once both lofty and ludicrous in the rhapsody of this robber chief, thus associating himself with one of the great names of antiquity²⁴. It showed, however, that he had at least the merit of knowing the remarkable²⁵ facts in the history of his country. He became more calm, and resumed his narrative²⁶.
 
I was conducted to Civita Vecchia in fetters²⁷. My heart was burning with rage. I had been married scarce six months to a woman whom I passionately²⁸ loved, and who was pregnant. My family was in despair. For a long time I made unsuccessful efforts to break my chain. At length I found a morsel²⁹ of iron which I hid carefully, endeavored with a pointed³⁰ flint to fashion it into a kind of file. I occupied myself in this work during the night-time, and when it was finished, I made out, after a long time, to sever¹⁷ one of the rings of my chain. My flight was successful.
 
I wandered for several weeks in the mountains which surround Prossedi, and found means to inform my wife of the place where I was concealed³¹. She came often to see me. I had determined to put myself at the head of an armed band. She endeavored for a long time to dissuade³² me; but finding my resolution fixed³³, she at length united in my project of vengeance, and brought me, herself, my poniard.
 
By her means I communicated with several brave fellows of the Neighboring villages, who I knew to be ready to take to the mountains, and only panting for an opportunity to exercise their daring spirits. We soon formed a combination, procured³⁴ arms, and we have had ample opportunities of revenging ourselves for the wrongs and injuries which most of us have suffered. Every thing has succeeded with us until now, and had it not been for our blunder in mistaking you for the prince, our fortunes would have been made.
 
Here the robber concluded his story. He had talked himself into companionship, and assured me he no longer bore me any grudge³⁶ for the error of which I had been the innocent cause. He even professed³⁷ a kindness for me, and wished me to remain some time with them. He promised to give me a sight of certain grottos³⁸ which they occupied beyond Villetri, and whither they resorted during the intervals³⁹ of their expeditions. He assured me that they led a jovial⁴⁰ life there; had plenty of good cheer; slept on beds of moss⁴¹, and were waited upon by young and beautiful females, whom I might take for models.
 
I confess I felt my curiosity roused by his descriptions of these grottos and their inhabitants; they realized those scenes in robber-story which I had always looked upon as mere⁴² creations of the fancy. I should gladly have accepted his invitation, and paid a visit to those caverns⁴³, could I have felt more secure in my company.
 
I began to find my situation less painful. I had evidently propitiated⁴⁴ the good-will of the chieftain, and hoped that he might release me for a moderate ransom⁴⁵. A new alarm, however, awaited me. While the captain was looking out with impatience⁴⁶ for the return of the messenger who had been sent to the prince, the sentinel who had been posted on the side of the mountain facing the plain of la Molara, came running towards us with precipitation. “We are betrayed!” exclaimed he. “The police of Frescati are after us. A party of carabiniers have just stopped at the inn below the mountain.” Then laying his hand on his stiletto, he swore, with a terrible oath, that if they made the least movement towards the mountains, my life and the lives of my fellow-prisoners should answer for it.
 
The chieftain resumed all his ferocity of demeanor⁴⁷, and approved of what his companion said; but when the latter had returned to his post, he turned to me with a softened⁴⁸ air: “I must act as chief,” said he, “and humor my dangerous subalterns. It is a law with us to kill our prisoners rather than suffer them to be rescued; but do not be alarmed. In case we are surprised keep by me; fly with us, and I will consider myself responsible for your life.”
 
There was nothing very consolatory⁴⁹ in this arrangement, which would have placed me between two dangers; I scarcely knew, in case of flight, which I should have most to apprehend⁵⁰ from, the carbines of the pursuers, or the stilettos of the pursued. I remained silent, however, and endeavored to maintain a look of tranquillity.
 
For an hour was I kept in this state of peril⁵¹ and anxiety. The robbers, crouching⁵² among their leafy coverts⁵³, kept an eagle watch upon the carabiniers below, as they loitered about the inn; sometimes lolling about the portal; sometimes disappearing for several minutes, then sallying out, examining their weapons, pointing in different directions and apparently⁵⁴ asking questions about the neighborhood; not a movement or gesture was last upon the keen eyes of the brigands⁵⁶. At length we were relieved from our apprehensions⁵⁷. The carabiniers having finished their refreshment⁵⁸, seized their arms, continued along the valley towards the great road, and gradually left the mountain behind them. “I felt almost certain,” said the chief, “that they could not be sent after us. They know too well how prisoners have fared in our hands on similar occasions. Our laws in this respect are inflexible⁵⁹, and are necessary for our safety. If we once flinched⁶⁰ from them, there would no longer be such thing as a ransom to be procured.”
 
There were no signs yet of the messenger’s return. I was preparing to resume my sketching⁶¹, when the captain drew a quire of paper from his knapsack—“Come,” said he, laughing, “you are a painter; take my likeness⁶³. The leaves of your portfolio⁶⁴ are small; draw it on this.” I gladly consented, for it was a study that seldom presents itself to a painter. I recollected⁶⁵ that Salvator Rosa in his youth had voluntarily sojourned for a time among the banditti of Calabria, and had filled his mind with the savage⁶⁷ scenery and savage associates by which he was surrounded. I seized my pencil with enthusiasm at the thought. I found the captain the most docile⁶⁸ of subjects, and after various shifting of positions, I placed him in an attitude to my mind.
 
Picture to yourself a stern, muscular figure, in fanciful bandit costume, with pistols and poniards in belt, his brawny⁶⁹ neck bare, a handkerchief loosely thrown around it, and the two ends in front strung with rings of all kinds, the spoils of travellers; reliques and medals hung on his breast; his hat decorated with various-colored ribbands; his vest and short breeches of bright colors and finely embroidered⁷⁰; his legs in buskins or leggins. Fancy him on a mountain height, among wild rocks and rugged⁷¹ oaks, leaning on his carbine as if meditating⁷² some exploit, while far below are beheld⁷³ villages and villas⁷⁴, the scenes of his maraudings, with the wide Campagna dimly extending in the distance.
 
The robber was pleased with the sketch⁶², and seemed to admire himself upon paper. I had scarcely finished, when the laborer⁷⁵ arrived who had been sent for my ransom. He had reached Tusculum two hours after midnight. He brought me a letter from the prince, who was in bed at the time of his arrival. As I had predicted, he treated the demand as extravagant⁷⁶, but offered five hundred dollars for my ransom. Having no money by him at the moment, he had sent a note for the amount, payable⁷⁷ to whomever should conduct me safe and sound to Rome. I presented the note of hand to the chieftain; he received it with a shrug⁷⁸. “Of what use are notes of hand to us?” said he, “who can we send with you to Rome to receive it? We are all marked men, known and described at every gate and military post, and village church-door. No, we must have gold and silver; let the sum be paid in cash and you shall be restored to liberty.”
 
The captain again placed a sheet of paper before me to communicate His determination to the prince. When I had finished the letter and took the sheet from the quire, I found on the opposite side of it the portrait which I had just been tracing. I was about to tear it off and give it to the chief.
 
“Hold,” said he, “let it go to Rome; let them see what kind of looking fellow I am. Perhaps the prince and his friends may form as good an opinion of me from my face as you have done.”
 
This was said sportively, yet it was evident there was vanity lurking⁷⁹ at the bottom. Even this wary⁸⁰, distrustful chief of banditti forgot for a moment his usual foresight⁸¹ and precaution in the common wish to be............