A Love Story Part 26

As is customary, Delme made an advance to the vetturino, who usually binds himself to defray all the expenses at the inns on the road.

The travellers dined early--left Rome in the afternoon--and proposed pushing on to Neppi during the night.

When about four miles on their journey, Delme observed a mausoleum on the side of the road, which appeared of ancient date, and rather curious construction.

On consulting his guide-book, he found it designated as the tomb of Nero.

On examining its inscription, he saw that it was erected to the memory of a Prefect of Sardinia; and he inwardly determined to distrust his guide-book on all future occasions.

The moon was up as they reached the post-house of Storta.

The inn, or rather tavern, was a small wretched looking building, with a large courtyard attached, but the stables appeared nearly--if not quite--untenanted.

Sir Henry's surprise and anger were great, when the driver, coolly stopping his horses, commenced taking off their harness;--and informed the travellers, that _there_ must they remain, until he had received some instructions from his owner, which he expected by a vettura leaving Rome at a later hour.

It was in vain that the brothers expostulated, and reminded him of his agreement to stop when they pleased, expressing their determination to proceed.

The driver was dogged and unmoved; and the travellers had neglected to draw up a written bargain, which is a precaution absolutely necessary in Italy.

They soon found they had no alternative but to submit. It was with a very bad grace they did so, for Englishmen have a due abhorrence of imposition.

They at length stepped from the vehicle--indulged in some vehement remonstrances--smiled at Thompson's voluble execrations, which they found were equally unavailing--and were finally obliged to give up the point.

They were shown into a small room. The chief inmates were some Papal soldiers of ruffianly air, engaged in the clamorous game of moro. Unlike the close shorn Englishmen, their beards and mustachios, were allowed to grow to such length, as to hide the greater part of the face.

Their animated gestures and savage countenances, would have accorded well with a bandit group by Salvator.

The landlord, an obsequious little man, with face pregnant with mischievous cunning, was watching with interest, the turns of the game; and a.s.sisting his guests, to quaff his vino ordinario, which Sir Henry afterwards found was ordinary enough.

Delme's equanimity of temper was already considerably disturbed.

The scanty accommodation afforded them, by no means diminished his choler; which he began to expend on the obstinate driver, who had followed them into the room, and was busily placing chairs round one of the tables.

"See what you can get for supper, you rascal!"

"Signore! there are some excellent fowls, and the very best wine of Velletri."

The wine was produced and proved vinegar.

The host bustled away loud in its praise, and a few seconds afterwards, the dying shriek of a veteran tenant of the poultry yard, warned them that supper was preparing.

"Thompson!" said George, rather languidly, "do, like a good fellow, see that they put no garlic with the fowl!"

"I will, Sir," replied the domestic; "and the wine, Mr. George, seems none of the best. I have a flask of brandy in the rumble."

"Just the thing!" said Sir Henry.

To their surprise, the landlord proffered sugar and lemons.

Sir Henry's countenance somewhat brightened, and he declared he would make punch.

Punch! thou just type of matrimony! thy ingredients of sweets and bitters so artfully blended, that we know not which predominate,--so deceptive, too, that we imbibe long and potent draughts, nor awake to a consciousness of thy power, till awoke by headache.

Hail to thee! all hail!

Thy very name, eked out by thine appropriate receptacle, recals raptures past--bids us appreciate joys present--and enjoins us duly to reverence thee, if we hope for joys in futurity.

A bowl of punch! each merry baccha.n.a.l rises at the call!

Moderate baccha.n.a.ls all! for where is the abandoned sot, who would not rather dole out his filthy lucre, on an increase of the mere alchohol--than expend it on those grateful adjuncts, which, throwing a graceful veil over that spirit's grossness, impart to it its chief and its best attraction.

Up rises then each hearty baccha.n.a.l! thrice waving the clear tinkling crystal, ere he emits that joyful burst, fresh from the heart, which from his uncontrolled emotion, meets the ear husky and indistinct.

Delme squeezed the lemons into not a bad subst.i.tute for a bowl, viz. a red earthen vase of rough workmanship, but elegant shape, somewhat resembling a modern wine cooler.

George stood at the inn door, wistfully looking upward; when he remarked an intelligent boy of fourteen, with dark piercing eyes, observing him somewhat earnestly.

On finding he was noticed, he approached with an air of ingenuous embarra.s.sment--pulled off his cap--and said in a tone of enquiry,

"Un Signore Inglese?"

"Yes! my fine fellow! Do you know anything of me or the English?"

"Oh yes!" replied the boy with vivacity, replacing his cap, "I have travelled in England, and like London very much."

George conversed with him for some time; and found him to be one of that cla.s.s, whose numbers make us unmindful of their wants or their loneliness; who eke out a miserable pittance, by carrying busts of plaster-of-Paris--grinding on an organ--or displaying through Europe, the tricks of some poodle dog, or the eccentricities of a monkey disguised in scarlet.

It is rare that these come from a part of Italy so far south; but it appeared in this instance, that Giuseppe's father being a carrier, had taken him with him to Milan--had there met a friend, rich in an organ and porcupine--and had entrusted the boy to his care, in order that he might see the world, and make his fortune.

Giuseppe gave a narrative of some little events, that had occurred to him during his wanderings, which greatly interested George; and he finally concluded, by saying that his father had now retired to his native place at Barberini, where many strangers came to see the "antichita." George, on referring to the guide book, found that this was indeed the case; and that Isola Barberini is marked as the site of ancient Veii, the rival of young Rome.

"And when do you go there, youngster, and how far is it from this?"

"I am going now, Signore, to be in time for supper. It is only a 'piccolo giro' across the fields; and looks as well by moonlight as at any other time."

"Ah!" replied George, "I would be glad to accompany you. Henry," said he, as he entered the room of the inn, "I am away on a cla.s.sic excursion to Veii. The night is lovely--I have an excellent guide--and shall be back before you have finished your punch making.

"_Do_ let me go!" and he lowered his voice, and the tears swam in his eyes, "I cannot endure these rude sounds of merriment, and a moonlight walk will at least afford nothing that can _thus_ pain me."

Sir Henry looked out. The night was perfectly fine. The young peasant, all willingness, had already shouldered his bundle, and was preparing to move forward.

"You must not be late, George," said his brother, a.s.senting to his proposal. "Do not stay too long about the ruins. Remember that you are still delicate, and that I shall wait supper for you."

As the boy led on, George followed him in a foot path, which led through fields of meadow land, corn, and rye.

The fire-flies--mimic meteors--were giddily winging their way from bush to bush,--illuming the atmosphere, and imparting to the scene a glittering beauty, which a summer night in a northern clime cannot boast.

As they approached somewhat nearer to the hamlet, their course was over ground more rugged; and the disjointed fragments of rocks strewed, and at intervals obstructed, the path.