of the richest and noblest families of Rome accompanied them with that
Italian freedom which has not its parallel in any other country in
the world. They were attired as peasants of Albano, Velletri,
Civita-Castellana, and Sora. We need hardly add that these peasant
costumes, like those of the young women, were brilliant with gold and
jewels.
"Carmela wished to form a quadrille, but there was one lady wanting.
Carmela looked all around her, but not one of the guests had a costume
similar to her own, or those of her companions. The Count of San-Felice
pointed out Teresa, who was hanging on Luigi's arm in a group of
peasants. 'Will you allow me, father?' said Carmela.--'Certainly,'
replied the count, 'are we not in Carnival time?'--Carmela turned
towards the young man who was talking with her, and saying a few words
to him, pointed with her finger to Teresa. The young man looked, bowed
in obedience, and then went to Teresa, and invited her to dance in a
quadrille directed by the count's daughter. Teresa felt a flush pass
over her face; she looked at Luigi, who could not refuse his assent.
Luigi slowly relinquished Teresa's arm, which he had held beneath his
own, and Teresa, accompanied by her elegant cavalier, took her appointed
place with much agitation in the aristocratic quadrille. Certainly, in
the eyes of an artist, the exact and strict costume of Teresa had a very
different character from that of Carmela and her companions; and Teresa
was frivolous and coquettish, and thus the embroidery and muslins, the
cashmere waist-girdles, all dazzled her, and the reflection of sapphires
and diamonds almost turned her giddy brain.
"Luigi felt a sensation hitherto unknown arising in his mind. It was
like an acute pain which gnawed at his heart, and then thrilled through
his whole body. He followed with his eye each movement of Teresa and her
cavalier; when their hands touched, he felt as though he should swoon;
every pulse beat with violence, and it seemed as though a bell were
ringing in his ears. When they spoke, although Teresa listened timidly
and with downcast eyes to the conversation of her cavalier, as Luigi
could read in the ardent looks of the good-looking young man that his
language was that of praise, it seemed as if the whole world was turning
round with him, and all the voices of hell were whispering in his ears
ideas of murder and assassination. Then fearing that his paroxysm might
get the better of him, he clutched with one hand the branch of a tree
against which he was leaning, and with the other convulsively grasped
the dagger with a carved handle which was in his belt, and which,
unwittingly, he drew from the scabbard from time to time. Luigi was
jealous! He felt that, influenced by her ambitions and coquettish
disposition, Teresa might escape him.
"The young peasant girl, at first timid and scared, soon recovered
herself. We have said that Teresa was handsome, but this is not all;
Teresa was endowed with all those wild graces which are so much more
potent than our affected and studied elegancies. She had almost all
the honors of the quadrille, and if she were envious of the Count of
San-Felice's daughter, we will not undertake to say that Carmela was not
jealous of her. And with overpowering compliments her handsome cavalier
led her back to the place whence he had taken her, and where Luigi
awaited her. Twice or thrice during the dance the young girl had glanced
at Luigi, and each time she saw that he was pale and that his features
were agitated, once even the blade of his knife, half drawn from its
sheath, had dazzled her eyes with its sinister glare. Thus, it was
almost tremblingly that she resumed her lover's arm. The quadrille had
been most perfect, and it was evident there was a great demand for a
repetition, Carmela alone objecting to it, but the Count of San-Felice
besought his daughter so earnestly, that she acceded. One of the
cavaliers then hastened to invite Teresa, without whom it was impossible
for the quadrille to be formed, but the young girl had disappeared. The
truth was, that Luigi had not felt the strength to support another such
trial, and, half by persuasion and half by force, he had removed Teresa
toward another part of the garden. Teresa had yielded in spite of
herself, but when she looked at the agitated countenance of the young
man, she understood by his silence and trembling voice that something
strange was passing within him. She herself was not exempt from internal
emotion, and without having done anything wrong, yet fully comprehended
that Luigi was right in reproaching her. Why, she did not know, but yet
she did not the less feel that these reproaches were merited. However,
to Teresa's great astonishment, Luigi remained mute, and not a word
escaped his lips the rest of the evening. When the chill of the night
had driven away the guests from the gardens, and the gates of the villa
were closed on them for the festa in-doors, he took Teresa quite away,
and as he left her at her home, he said,--
"'Teresa, what were you thinking of as you danced opposite the young
Countess of San-Felice?'--'I thought,' replied the young girl, with
all the frankness of her nature, 'that I would give half my life for a
costume such as she wore.'
"'And what said your cavalier to you?'--'He said it only depended on
myself to have it, and I had only one word to say.'
"'He was right,' said Luigi. 'Do you desire it as ardently as you
say?'--'Yes.'--'Well, then, you shall have it!'
"The young girl, much astonished, raised her head to look at him, but
his face was so gloomy and terrible that her words froze to her lips.
As Luigi spoke thus, he left her. Teresa followed him with her eyes into
the darkness as long as she could, and when he had quite disappeared,
she went into the house with a sigh.
"That night a memorable event occurred, due, no doubt, to the imprudence
of some servant who had neglected to extinguish the lights. The Villa
of San-Felice took fire in the rooms adjoining the very apartment of the
lovely Carmela. Awakened in the night by the light of the flames, she
sprang out of bed, wrapped herself in a dressing-gown, and attempted
to escape by the door, but the corridor by which she hoped to fly was
already a prey to the flames. She then returned to her room, calling for
help as loudly as she could, when suddenly her window, which was twenty
feet from the ground, was opened, a young peasant jumped into the
chamber, seized her in his arms, and with superhuman skill and strength
conveyed her to the turf of the grass-plot, where she fainted. When she
recovered, her father was by her side. All the servants surrounded her,
offering her assistance. An entire wing of the villa was burnt down; but
what of that, as long as Carmela was safe and uninjured? Her preserver
was everywhere sought for, but he did not appear; he was inquired after,
but no one had seen him. Carmela was greatly troubled that she had not
recognized him. As the count was immensely rich, excepting the danger
Carmela had run,--and the marvellous manner in which she had escaped,
made that appear to him rather a favor of providence than a real
misfortune,--the loss occasioned by the conflagration was to him but a
trifle.
"The next day, at the usual hour, the two young peasants were on the
borders of the forest. Luigi arrived first. He came toward Teresa in
high spirits, and seemed to have completely forgotten the events of the
previous evening. The young girl was very pensive, but seeing Luigi so
cheerful, she on her part assumed a smiling air, which was natural to
her when she was not excited or in a passion. Luigi took her arm beneath
his own, and led her to the door of the grotto. Then he paused. The
young girl, perceiving that there was something extraordinary, looked
at him steadfastly. 'Teresa,' said Luigi, 'yesterday evening you told
me you would give all the world to have a costume similar to that of the
count's daughter.'--'Yes,' replied Teresa with astonishment; 'but I was
mad to utter such a wish.'--'And I replied, "Very well, you shall have
it."'--'Yes,' replied the young girl, whose astonishment increased
at every word uttered by Luigi, 'but of course your reply was only to
please me.'
"'I have promised no more than I have given you, Teresa,' said Luigi
proudly. 'Go into the grotto and dress yourself.' At these words he
drew away the stone, and showed Teresa the grotto, lighted up by two
wax lights, which burnt on each side of a splendid mirror; on a rustic
table, made by Luigi, were spread out the pearl necklace and the diamond
pins, and on a chair at the side was laid the rest of the costume.
"Teresa uttered a cry of joy, and, without inquiring whence this attire
came, or even thanking Luigi, darted into the grotto, transformed into a
dressing-room. Luigi pushed the stone behind her, for on the crest of a
small adjacent hill which cut off the view toward Palestrina, he saw a
traveller on horseback, stopping a moment, as if uncertain of his road,
and thus presenting against the blue sky that perfect outline which is
peculiar to distant objects in southern climes. When he saw Luigi,
he put his horse into a gallop and advanced toward him. Luigi was not
mistaken. The traveller, who was going from Palestrina to Tivoli, had
mistaken his way; the young man directed him; but as at a distance of
a quarter of a mile the road again divided into three ways, and on
reaching these the traveller might again stray from his route, he begged
Luigi to be his guide. Luigi threw his cloak on the ground, placed his
carbine on his shoulder, and freed from his heavy covering, preceded
the traveller with the rapid step of a mountaineer, which a horse can
scarcely keep up with. In ten minutes Luigi and the traveller reached
the cross-roads. On arriving there, with an air as majestic as that of
an emperor, he stretched his hand towards that one of the roads which
the traveller was to follow.--"That is your road, excellency, and now
you cannot again mistake."--'And here is your recompense,' said the
traveller, offering the young herdsman some small pieces of money.
"'Thank you,' said Luigi, drawing back his hand; 'I render a service, I
do not sell it.'--'Well,' replied the traveller, who seemed used to this
difference between the servility of a man of the cities and the pride
of the mountaineer, 'if you refuse wages, you will, perhaps, accept a
gift.'--'Ah, yes, that is another thing.'--'Then,' said the traveller,
'take these two Venetian sequins and give them to your bride, to make
herself a pair of earrings.'
"'And then do you take this poniard,' said the young herdsman; 'you will
not find one better carved between Albano and Civita-Castellana.'
"'I accept it,' answered the traveller, 'but then the obligation will
be on my side, for this poniard is worth more than two sequins.'--'For a
dealer perhaps; but for me, who engraved it myself, it is hardly worth a
piastre.'
"'What is your name?' inquired the traveller.--'Luigi Vampa,' replied
the shepherd, with the same air as he would have replied, Alexander,
King of Macedon.--'And yours?'--'I,' said the traveller, 'am called
Sinbad the Sailor.'" Franz d'Epinay started with surprise.
"Sinbad the Sailor." he said.
"Yes," replied the narrator; "that was the name which the traveller gave
to Vampa as his own."
"Well, and what may you have to say against this name?" inquired Albert;
"it is a very pretty name, and the adventures of the gentleman of that
name amused me very much in my youth, I must confess."--Franz said no
more. The name of Sinbad the Sailor, as may well be supposed, awakened
in him a world of recollections, as had the name of the Count of Monte
Cristo on the previous evening.
"Proceed!" said he to the host.
"Vampa put the two sequins haughtily into his pocket, and slowly
returned by the way he had gone. As he came within two or three hundred
paces of the grotto, he thought he heard a cry. He listened to know
whence this sound could proceed. A moment afterwards he thought he heard
his own name pronounced distinctly. The cry proceeded from the grotto.
He bounded like a chamois, cocking his carbine as he went, and in a
moment reached the summit of a hill opposite to that on which he had
perceived the traveller. Three cries for help came more distinctly to
his ear. He cast his eyes around him and saw a man carrying off Teresa,
as Nessus, the centaur, carried Dejanira. This man, who was hastening
towards the wood, was already three-quarters of the way on the road from
the grotto to the forest. Vampa measured the distance; the man was at
least two hundred paces in advance of him, and there was not a chance
of overtaking him. The young shepherd stopped, as if his feet had
been rooted to the ground; then he put the butt of his carbine to his
shoulder, took aim at the ravisher, followed him for a second in his
track, and then fired. The ravisher stopped suddenly, his knees bent
under him, and he fell with Teresa in his arms. The young girl rose
instantly, but the man lay on the earth struggling in the agonies of
death. Vampa then rushed towards Teresa; for at ten paces from the dying
man her legs had failed her, and she had dropped on her knees, so that
the young man feared that the ball that had brought down his enemy, had
also wounded his betrothed. Fortunately, she was unscathed, and it was
fright alone that had overcome Teresa. When Luigi had assured himself
that she was safe and unharmed, he turned towards the wounded man. He
had just expired, with clinched hands, his mouth in a spasm of agony,
