Part 21 (2/2)

The duty and the care of good government should be to ameliorate the poor man's condition; but, unhappily, that duty is unfulfilled, that care is not undertaken. Government thinks only of its own preservation, and of strengthening its own position; to this end it exercises corruption to obtain satellites and accomplices.

The ma.s.s of the prosperous might, to a great extent, correct the capital defect of administration by relieving misery and improving the condition of the people. If the rich would thus only deprive themselves of but a small portion of their superfluities! While the poor want the very necessaries of existence, the tables of the wealthy abound with endless varieties of food, and the rarest and most costly wines. Does the rich man never feel the compunction of conscience which such shameless contrasts ought to bring?

”Why such grief for the loss of one of our enemies, capitano?”

These words were accompanied by a tap on Gasparo's shoulder, both proceeding from an odd-looking man, who was following in the funeral procession. Gasparo turned round, stood for a moment considering his familiar interlocutor, then uttering an exclamation little suited to the solemnity of the scene, and very surprising to those around him--”Evil be to the seventy-two! (a Roman oath), and is it really thee, Marzio?”

”Who else should it be, if not your lieutenant, capitano mio?”

The acquaintance of Gasparo had the type of the regular Italian brigand.

The old man, during the few months of his city life, had somewhat re-polished his appearance; but Marzio, on the contrary, presented the rude aspect of the Roman bandit pure and simple. Tall and squarely-built, it was difficult to meet without a shudder the fierce look darted from those densely black eyes. His hair, black and glossy as a raven, contrasted with his beard, once as dark, now sprinkled with gray. His costume, though somewhat cleaner, differed in other respects very little from that rustic masquerade worn when he had filled the whole country with terror. The famous doublet of dark velvet was not wanting, and if there were not visible externally those indispensable brigand accessories, pistols, dagger, or a two-edged knife, it was a sign that those articles were carefully hidden within. Hats are worn in different fas.h.i.+ons, even by brigands, and Marzio wore his a little inclined towards the right side, like a workman's. Leathern gaiters had been abandoned by Marzio, and he wore his pantaloons, loose ones of blue, with ample pockets.

The occasion did not offer the two men much opportunity of conversation; but it was evident that they met with mutual pleasure and sympathy.

In these times when Italian honor and glory are a mockery, the handful of men called brigands, who have for seven years sustained themselves against one large army, two other armies of carabiniers, a part of another army of national guards, and an entire hostile population--that handful of men, call them what you will, is at least brave. If you rulers, instead of maintaining the disgraceful inst.i.tution of the priest, had occupied yourselves in securing the instruction of the people, these very brigands, instead of becoming the instruments of priestly reaction, would at this moment have been in our ranks, teaching us how one stout fellow can fight twenty.

This, my kind word for the ”honest” brigands, is not for the a.s.sa.s.sins, be it understood. And one little piece of comment upon you who sit in high places. When you a.s.saulted the Roman walls--for religious purposes of course--robbing and slaying the poor people who thought you came as Mends, were you less brigands? No, you were worse than banditti--you were traitors.

But you will tell me, ”those were republicans and revolutionists, men who trouble the world.” And what were you but troublers of the world, and false traitors? This difference exists between your majesties and the bandit: he robs, but seldom kills, while you have not only robbed, but stained your hands for plunder's sake in innocent blood!

Pardon, reader, that this digression has left you in the midst of a funeral, and that the writer has too pa.s.sionately diverged from his path to glance at brigandage on the large as well as the small scale.

When the funeral party reached the cemetery, the remains of the dead were lowered into a grave, over which no voice spoke a word of eulogy.

With all the will to effect good, the action of this young life had been cut short by a premature and rash death. What could be said of the blossom of n.o.ble qualities to which time was denied to bring forth their fruits?

CHAPTER LXI. THE NARRATIVE

We will leave our friends occupied in consoling the afflicted Irene for the loss of her brother, whom she had sincerely loved.

The last of a proud race! This thought would press upon the mind of the fair lady, who, despite her willingness to form a plebeian alliance, still valued, as we have seen, the high rank of her family.

Of the personal fortune which came to her through her brother's death she had not thought, for she was of too generous a nature to mingle an idea of interest with the life or death of a beloved object. The prince's family property, besides, which was in the Roman territory, had been confiscated by those worthy servants of G.o.d whose possessions are ”not of this world.”

It was not until the friends had returned from the funeral that Attilio and Muzio had consulted with the General about imparting to his sister the knowledge of the fatal catastrophe. The General, calling Orazio and his wife into his room, then first informed them gently of the sad occurrence.

Gasparo, who, with the exception of Irene, grieved the most, found some relief to his sorrow in the newly-acquired society of his former lieutenant. He was also full of the desire to hear the adventures of the man whom he had thought lost forever. The two _ci-devant_ banditti closely shut themselves up in Gasparo's room at the Victoria Hotel, at first conversing eagerly in interrogations and answers, nearly all monosyllabic, oratory not being the forte of brigands, who are more accustomed to deeds than words. After a time, the lieutenant began the following consecutive narrative:-

”After you had informed me, capitano mio, that you were tired of a forest life, and felt disposed to return to a private one, I continued my usual mode of existence, without ever deviating from the plan of action you had enjoined, which was to despoil the rich and the powerful, and to relieve the needy and wretched. Our companions, formed in your school, gave me little cause to reprove them; but if one failed in duty, I punished him without pity; and thus, by the grace of G.o.d, we lived for several years. The charms of womankind were always the rock on which our hearts split; and well you know it, capitano.”

At these words, Gasparo began pointing to his snow-white mustache, doubtless remembering more than one gallant adventure in his career of peril.

The lieutenant continued: ”You remember that Nanna, the girl that I adored, and on whose account I was so much persecuted by her parents?

Don't for a moment suppose that that dear creature betrayed me; no, her soul was pure as an angel's.” And the bold bandit chief put his hand to his eyes.

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