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 dreamily through the hazy
atmosphere. Every thing was toned down to soft beauty. Of course it
was the season for lovers and lovers' vows. Pepita walked a little
more slowly to oblige Dick. She uttered an occasional murmur at their
slow progress, but still did not seem eager to quicken her pace. Every
step was taken unwillingly by Dick, who wanted to prolong the happy
time.
Pepita's voice was the sweetest in the world, and her soft Italian
sounded more musically that that language had ever sounded before.
She seemed happy, and by many little signs showed that her companion
was not indifferent to her. At length Dick ventured to offer his arm.
She rested her hand on it very gently, and Dick tremulously took it in
his. The little hand fluttered for a few minutes, and then sank to
rest.
The sun had now set. Evening in Italy is far different from what it
is in northern latitudes. There it comes on gently and slowly,
sometimes prolonging its presence for hours, and the light will be
visible until very late. In Italy, however, it is short and abrupt.
Almost as soon as the sun disappears the thick shadows come swiftly
on and cover every thing. It was so at this time. It seemed but a
moment after sunset, and yet every thing was growing indistinct. The
clumps of trees grew black; the houses and walls of the city behind
all faded into a mass of gloom. The stars shone faintly. There was
no moon.
"I will be very late to-night," said Pepita, timidly.
"But are you much later than usual?"
"Oh, very much!"
"There is no danger, is there? But if there is you are safe. I can
protect you. Can you trust me?"
"Yes," said Pepita, in a low voice.
It was too dark to see the swiftly-changing color of Pepita's face as
Dick murmured some words in her ear. But her hand trembled violently
as Dick held it. She did not say a word in response. Dick stood still
for a moment and begged her to answer him. She made an effort and
whispered some indistinct syllables. Whereupon Dick called her by
every endearing name that he could think of, and--Hasty footsteps!
Exclamations! Shouts! They were surrounded! Twelve men or more--
stout, strong fellows, magnified by the gloom. Pepita shrieked.
"Who are you?" cried Dick. "Away, or I'll shoot you all. I'm armed."
"Boh!" said one of the men, contemptuously. "Off!" cried Dick, as
the fellow drew near. He put himself before Pepita to protect her,
and thrust his right hand in the breast-pocket of his coat.
"Who is that with you?" said a voice. At the sound of the voice
Pepita uttered a cry. Darting from behind Dick she rushed up to him.
"It is Pepita, Luigi!"
"Pepita! Sister! What do you mean by this?" said the man hoarsely.
"Why are you so late? Who is this man?"
"An American gentleman who walked out as far as this to protect me,"
said Pepita, bursting into tears.
"An American gentleman!" said Luigi, with a bitter sneer. "He came
to protect you, did he? Well; we will show him in a few minutes
how grateful we are."
Dick stood with folded arms awaiting the result of all this.
"Luigi! dearest brother!" cried Pepita, with a shudder, "on my soul
--in the name of the Holy Mother--he is an honorable American
gentleman, and he came to protect me."
"Oh! we know, and we will reward him."
"Luigi! Luigi!" moaned Pepita, "if you hurt him I will die!"
"Ah! Has it come to that?" said Luigi, bitterly. "A half-hour's
acquaintance, and you talk of dying. Here, Pepita; go home with
Ricardo."
"I will not. I will not go a step unless you let him go."
"Oh, we will let him go!"
"Promise me you will not hurt him."
"Pepita, go home!" cried her brother, sternly.
"I will not unless you promise."
"Foolish girl! Do you suppose we are going to break the laws and
get into trouble? No, no. Come, go home with Ricardo. I'm going to
the city."
Ricardo came forward, and Pepita allowed herself to be led away.
When she was out of sight and hearing Luigi approached Dick. Amid
the gloom Dick did not see the wrath and hate that might have been on
his face, but the tone of his voice was passionate and menacing. He
prepared for the worst. "That is my sister.--Wretch! what did you
mean?"
"I swear--"
"Peace! We will give you cause to remember her."
Dick saw that words and excuses were useless. He thought his hour had
come. He resolved to die game. He hadn't a pistol. His manoeuvre of
putting his hand in his pocket was merely intended to deceive. The
Italians thought that if he had one he would have done more than
mention it. He would at least have shown it. He had stationed
himself under a tree. The men were before him. Luigi rushed at him
like a wild beast. Dick gave him a tremendous blow between his eyes
that knocked him headlong.
"You can kill me," he shouted, "but you'll find it hard work!"
Up jumped Luigi, full of fury; half a dozen others rushed
simultaneously at Dick. He struck out two vigorous blows, which
crashed against the faces of two of them. The next moment he was on
the ground. On the ground, but striking well-aimed blows and kicking
vigorously. He kicked one fellow completely over. The brutal Italians
struck and kicked him in return. At last a tremendous blow descended
on his head. He sank senseless.
When he revived it was intensely dark. He was covered with painful
bruises. His head ached violently. He could see nothing. He arose
and tried to walk, but soon fell exhausted. So he crawled closer to
the trunk of the tree, and groaned there in his pain. At last he
fell into a light sleep, that was much interrupted by his suffering.
He awoke at early twilight. He was stiff and sore, but very much
refreshed. His head did not pain so excessively. He heard the
trickling of water near, and saw a brook. There he went and washed
himself. The water revived him greatly. Fortunately his clothes were
only slightly torn. After washing the blood from his face, and
buttoning his coat over his bloodstained shirt, and brushing the
dirt from his clothes, he ventured to return to the city.
He crawled rather than walked, often stopping to rest, and once
almost fainting from utter weakness. But at last he reached the
city, and managed to find a wine-cart, the only vehicle that he
could see, which took him to his lodgings. He reached his room
before any of the others were up, and went to bed.
[Illustration: An Interruption.]