_In the Robber's Hold.--The Brigand's Bride.--Sudden, amazing,
overwhelming, bewildering, tremendous, astounding, overpowering,
and crushing Discovery.--The Situation.--Everybody confounded.--The
Crowd at Sorrento.--The Landlord's Prayers.--The Virago calls for
Vengeance._
The brigand put his gun down upon the sofa, and motioned to David
to take a seat. He then left the room, and David heard his voice
calling,--
"Laura! Laura!"
A light footstep sounded in the next room, and the brigand returned,
followed by a woman.
This woman's appearance astonished David. She was a lady. She was
young, beautiful, bright as a vision, dressed simply, but in the
modern fashion altogether. She had a very sweet face, and a bewitching
smile, and as she entered she looked at David in some surprise.
Then this great, big, bluff, bearded, broad-shouldered, beetle-browed,
brusque bully of a brigand; this fierce, ferocious, bloodthirsty,
relentless, ruthless ruffian; this hard-hearted, implacable,
inexorable villain; this cruel, vengeful, vindictive, griping,
grasping, scowling fiend; this demoniac miscreant, without pity,
and without remorse, opened his month.
And this is what he said, in first-rate ENGLISH!--"See here, Laura;
I've picked up a poor wretch of a Bohemian--can't speak a word of
any language, and had to explain by signs. Well, you know I'm great
on gestures; so I worked his story out of him. It seems he came to
Naples with his father, mother, and two sisters, and they all went
on horseback up Vesuvius. Well, somehow they were captured by
brigands, and were carried off; but the father, who, I believe, is
a medical man, managed to drug the food of the scoundrels, and
carried off his family. Well, they got to the shore, found a boat,
and set out for Naples. After sailing a little distance, a squall
struck the boat, and it upset. All were drowned except this poor
lad, who managed to cling to the boat, and drifted, or was blown,
ashore here on the cove, just down there, last night. He was
senseless all night, and only came to himself a little while ago,
and I picked him up just as he was reviving. He says he is alone
in the world, and has appealed to me to help him. Poor lad! my
heart fairly aches for him. He says he hasn't got a penny of money,
and implores me to help him. Of course I've tried to comfort him;
for I've told him that he may make my house his home, and I've
promised to give him whatever money he wants, and move heaven and
earth to get him back to his friends, if he has any."
During this astounding speech the lady had stolen over to David,
and sitting by his side, she placed a soft hand tenderly on his
head. As the story was being told, her eyes filled with tears, and
leaning forward, she kissed the poor boy's pale brow. When it ended
she murmured in English, that was even better than that of the
"brigand,"--"Poor boy! poor boy! O, Walter, dearest, how I do wish
I could speak Bohemian, so as to tell him how sorry I feel!"
And what of David?
What did David think--feel--say?
Nothing. Not a word!
David was paralyzed. He was stunned. He gasped for breath.
And so this was his brigand--the brutal, the beetle-browed, the
cruel, the bloody-minded, the inexorable, the demoniac, and all
the rest of it! He gasped for breath, as I think I have already
remarked; and as the ex-brigand went on with his narrative, David
listened in a dazed way, and began to understand that the language
of gestures has its little uncertainties. But when the lady kissed
him, and when her sweet voice spoke those tender words of pity, he
could stand it no longer. His voice came to him. He burst forth,--
"O, how I thank you! O, how good you are! O, what a fool I am!"
And he could say no more.
Not a word more, on my honor.
It was now the turn of the others to be surprised.
The lady started back in wonder, and looked at David, and then at
her husband. The ex-brigand started back also, and stared at David
in utter bewilderment.
"What!" he roared, in a deep, thunderous bass voice. "Say that
again."
"O, I'm an American--and I'm such a fool!" said David. "Why didn't
I tell you so?"
"An American!" roared the ex-brigand. "An American!"
Upon this he burst into a perfect thunder-peal of laughter. The
laughter came forth, peal after peal, in long and deafening
explosions, till the house vibrated with the sound, and till at
last the ex-brigand sank exhausted into the Glastonbury chair.
"An American!" he cried; "and think of me--ha, ha, ha!--asking
you if you spoke every language in the world--ha, ha, ha!--but the
right one--ha, ha, ha!--and speaking every language--ha, ha,
ha!--but my own--ha, ha, ha! And to think of us two Americans--ha,
ha, ha!--after trying Italian--ha, ha, ha I--and French, and Spanish,
and German--ha, ha, ha!--rushing into gestures!--ha, ha,
ha!--gestures!--only think, Laura--ha, ha, ha! He and I--ha, ha,
ha!--spending an hour in making signs to each other--ha, ha, ha!--but
'pon my life it's too bad in me to be howling out in this fashion,
my poor lad, when you're in the midst of such deep affliction. I
swear I'm sorry. I forget myself."
"But I'm not in any affliction at all," said David.
"What! What's that?" cried the ex-brigand. "Didn't you lose your
father?"
"No."
"But your father, and mother, and the rest of them--"
"No," said David. "You didn't quite understand what I wanted to
say." And he then proceeded to tell his story in plain English. He
was listened to with deep attention; but as his story turned out
to be so different from the first report of the ex-brigand, the
lady stole an arch look at her husband, and her eyes fairly danced
with fun and merriment. But the ex-brigand bore it admirably; and
as David ended, and showed himself to be in no such deep affliction
as had been supposed, he once more burst forth in a fresh peal of
riotous laughter.
Upon this David ventured to hint at his own late fears, and on
being questioned by the lady he confessed frankly what had been
the interpretation that he put upon the signs of the ex-brigand.
"Well," said that worthy, "I'm not a brigand at all. I'm an artist."
"I'm sure I don't wonder, Walter," said the lady. "You dress yourself
up in such an absurd fashion--and I've always told you that this
room looks like a bandit's den."
"No, no, Laura; say an artist's studio. How could I get along
without my furniture. As for my dress, it's quite in keeping with
the place and the people. It's picturesque, and that's all an artist
is bound to consider."
Further explanations followed, in the course of which it appeared
that this ex-brigand was Mr. Walter Ludlow, an American artist,
who, for the time being, was living here with his bride. They had
been married three months. The island was Capri. They were enjoying
love in a cottage, which cottage was furnished in an artistic,
rather than a fashionable way. They lived here quite free from
restraint, and the artist occupied the time partly with his art,
and partly with general enjoyment. Neither of them felt at all
inclined to leave Capri for some time to come, but thought it the
pleasantest place in the world.
Ludlow happened that day to be cleaning his gun, with the intention
of going on a shooting excursion. The noise which had been made in
the wood by David had startled him, and he had gone to see what it
was, with the idea that some cattle had strayed along the shore,
and were coming into the fields and gardens.
When Ludlow explained his gestures to David, and the latter confessed
what interpretation he had put on them, further laughter was elicited
from the fun-loving artist, in which his wife joined, and David
also. Ludlow, as soon as he was in a condition to speak, proceeded
to explain what he really meant. His gestures were all intended by
him to express the following ideas:--
1. I'm an American.
2. I don't live here--I only lodge.
3. I'm an artist.
4. I'm very sorry for you, and I'll take care of you.
5. I'm going out shooting soon.
6. Don't fret. I'll take care of you, and the boat too,
as long as you like.
7. I live in that house up there, and you can stay there
till you hear from your friends.
But Mrs. Ludlow now retreated, and before long she had a table set
for their young guest, at which David took his seat, and ate with
an appetite that had been sharpened by his long fast. While at
the table Ludlow questioned him more particularly about his friends,
and where he had left them.
"Well, David, my lad," said the artist, at length, "I should like
very much to have you stay with us for a time; and if you could,
I feel confident that I could show you what would well repay you.
Are you aware that on this island is one of the wonders of the
world--the famous grotto? I should like to take you there--but I
see how it is. As you say, your uncle will be wild with anxiety
about you, and will have no peace till he hears from you. So I
suppose the best thing I can do for you, is to restore you to him
first of all, and then arrange for a visit from you all on some
future occasion."
David thanked him very earnestly, and dwelt strongly upon the
anxiety of Uncle Moses under the circumstances.
"Well, my lad," said Ludlow, "I think you'd best go off at once,
and I mean to go with you. Unfortunately there is a head wind,
just now, so that we cannot go to Castellamare without taking too
long a time. The best way will be to go over to Sorrento from this
place, and take a carriage, or horses, to Castellamare."
This proposal pleased David, greatly, and as Ludlow was ready to
start, he rose to go. Mrs. Ludlow bade him good by, and pressed
him affectionately to come back with his friends.
In a short time they were in the boat and afloat. Ludlow was a
good sailor, and the wind was favorable for a passage to Sorrento.
The distance was traversed quickly and pleasantly; and then, leaving
the boat, they walked up into the town towards the hotel, to see
about getting a conveyance to Castellamare.
As they approached the hotel they became aware of a great and
unusual crowd in front of it. The crowd reminded David very
forcibly of that one which had been raging there a few days
before, and excited some trepidation in his breast. Involuntarily
he hung back.
"What's the matter?" asked Ludlow.
"The mob," said David; "do--do you think it's safe to venture among
them?"
"Safe? Pooh! why not?"
"They appear to be excited. Hark! how they shout."
"O, nonsense! These Italians are always shouting."
But David still hesitated, and finally told Ludlow about the trouble
with the tassel, and the old woman, and the mob, and their escape.
At this story Ludlow laughed heartily, and then proceeded to reassure
David.
"Don't be alarmed," said he; "they won't remember you. If they did,
I've got something that'll make them keep at a respectful distance;"
and he touched his breast significantly. "A six-shooter, David, my
boy, is a very convenient thing to carry about one in this country,
and it is surprising how the native mind respects it. So come
along, and we--that is, I and my six-shooter'll--take care of you.
Don't be uneasy. They've got something else on their minds now."
With these words Ludlow walked on, and David followed, full of
fear.
The crowd in front of the hotel was in a great state of rage and
excitement. Some were banging at the door, others pounding against
the window shutters, which had been closed by the terrified
landlord; others were standing at a distance, and trying to find
stones to throw. Fortunately there were no loose stones of any
size, few being larger than a pebble, and therefore, as yet, no
very great damage had been done. But the crowd was evidently
capable of any amount of mischief. Every one was howling, and
yelling; and in the midst of them was an old woman, whose shouts
and shrill cries made her conspicuous in the scene. She was
encouraging and stimulating a number of men who were carrying a
beam to the house, which they evidently purposed to use as a
battering-ram, so as to burst open the door.
The moment that David caught sight of this woman he shuddered, and
falling behind Ludlow, caught at his hand, and tried to pull him
back. Ludlow turned in surprise.
"It's the same woman," said David, in an agitated voice, "who
chased me."
"Is it?" said Ludlow, with a smile. "O, well, you've got me with
you now. So be a man.--cheer up, my boy. It's all right."
Saying this, Ludlow again walked forward, this time keeping his
left hand on David's arm. David felt that it was not "all right,"
but he had to follow Ludlow, and so he followed him into the midst
of the crowd. Working their way on through the people, they at last
came near to the door, and found themselves close by the men who
were carrying the beam. They had laid it on the ground, and were
hesitating for a moment. Overhead Ludlow heard the voice of the
landlord pleading with them in piteous tones.
"O, good citizens! O, dear citizens! Don't destroy my furniture!
Don't ruin me! There is a mistake. On my honor, the strangers are
innocent."
At this the old virago howled out some insane maledictions, and
urged the crowd on. Some on the outskirts yelled, and the old hag,
whirling around in the midst of her tirade, found herself face to
face with David. The terrified lad shrank back, and tried to hide
himself; but the old woman recognized him at once, and with a howl
sprang at him.
Ludlow saw the movement.
He put himself in front of David, and, seizing the old woman's arm
in a grasp like a vice, held her back, and asked her sternly, in
Italian,--
"Accursed one! what do you mean?"
"O, citizens of Sorrento!" shrieked the hag. "O, pious citizens!
Help! This is the accursed boy! This is the sacrilegious one! the
blasphemer! the insulter of the Bambino! the--"
"Silence!" roared Ludlow, in a voice of thunder. "Men of Sorrento,
is this the way you treat strangers? Does this mad thing govern
the city?"
"The boy, the boy! the blasphemer! the sacrilegious! the accursed!"
shrieked the hag. And at her yells some of the mob seemed inclined
to respond. They were already ripe for mischief, and when the hag
diverted their attention to David, they felt quite ready to take
him in hand. So now a ring of dark faces was formed around Ludlow,
and the yells of the hag directed them to seize David.
Ludlow pushed the hag from him, drew his revolver from his breast,
and took two strides towards the house, which was close by, dragging
David after him. Then he put his back against the wall, and holding
the revolver in an apparently careless manner, with its muzzle
turned towards the crowd, he once more opened his mouth.
"Men of Sorrento!" said he, "what foolery is this? The woman is
mad. I have just come from Capri, with this boy. Many of you know
me, for I am often here; and now, when I come, am I to be insulted
by a madwoman? Are you--"
"Seize him! seize the boy! the boy! the blasphemer!" yelled the hag.
Ludlow placed his hand on David's head, and looked with a smile on
the crowd nearest.
"Does her madness usually take this form, gentlemen?" he added;
"does she usually show this animosity to little boys and children?"
At this question, which was asked in an easy and natural manner,
the crowd looked abashed.
They began to think that the woman was crazy. Those to whom Ludlow
had spoken were the very men who had brought the beam but a few
minutes before. They now edged slowly away, and began to think that
they had done a very silly thing.
"What's the trouble, signori?" asked Ludlow, in the same easy tone,
of those who were nearest.
"Well, they say there are some people inside that desecrated the
church--some boys--"
"What--boys?" said Ludlow, with a smile. "Who says so?"
The men shrugged their shoulders.
"She says so."
Ludlow thereupon shrugged his shoulders.
"Seize him! seize him! seize him!" yelled the hag, who all this
time had kept up her insane outcry.
"Somebody had better seize _her_," said Ludlow, with a laugh. "Why,
gentlemen, she will give your town a very bad name."
The crowd nearest had already undergone a revulsion of feeling.
The assault of the old woman on two harmless strangers seemed too
wanton to be tolerated. Ludlow's easy manner and calm language
restored them fully to their senses, and the sight of his revolver
effectually overawed the more excitable or reckless. They were also
jealous of the good name of the town, and now began to be enraged
with the old woman. A murmur passed through them. Curses were freely
lavished upon her, and the threats which but a short time ago had
been directed against the landlord and his guests, were now hurled
at her. The hag, however, in her fury, was quite unconscious of
all this, and continued to yell as before, endeavoring to hound
them on against David. But the crowd was now disgusted with her
and her yells.
"Stop your diabolical yells!" cried an angry voice. "Go home, and
stay home, or you'll have a strait jacket put on you."
The hag stopped short, as though thunderstruck, and looked around
with staring eyes. It was a young man who thus addressed her: he
was grasping her arm and looking savagely at her. Evidently he
was some relative, of whom she stood in awe, for with something
like a gasp she seemed to shrink into herself, and then, gathering
her clothes about her, slunk away through the crowd.
Ludlow had often been at Sorrento before, and saw some familiar
faces among the people. These he accosted, and soon found out what
the trouble was. Although some of these very men had been howling
like maniacs a short time before, yet they now were as quiet, and
gentle, and amiable as lambs. They sneered at the old hag, deplored.
the excitement, and assured him that no harm had been done.
Soon the crowd dispersed, and the landlord, who had been watching
the scene in deep anxiety, came down, opened the doors, and gave
Ludlow and David a most eager, exuberant, and enthusiastic welcome.