PART THIRD.
THE ITALIAN BANDITTI.
THE INN AT TERRACINA.
Crack! crack! crack! crack! crack!
"Here comes the estafette from Naples," said mine host of the inn at
Terracina, "bring out the relay."
The estafette came as usual galloping up the road, brandishing over his
head a short-handled whip, with a long knotted lash; every smack of
which made a report like a pistol. He was a tight square-set young
fellow, in the customary uniform--a smart blue coat, ornamented with
facings and gold lace, but so short behind as to reach scarcely below
his waistband, and cocked up not unlike the tail of a wren. A cocked
hat, edged with gold lace; a pair of stiff riding boots; but instead of
the usual leathern breeches he had a fragment of a pair of drawers that
scarcely furnished an apology for modesty to hide behind.
The estafette galloped up to the door and jumped from his horse.
"A glass of rosolio, a fresh horse, and a pair of breeches," said he,
"and quickly--I am behind my time, and must be off."
"San Genaro!" replied the host, "why, where hast thou left thy
garment?"
"Among the robbers between this and Fondi."
"What! rob an estafette! I never heard of such folly. What could they
hope to get from thee?"
"My leather breeches!" replied the estafette. "They were bran new, and
shone like gold, and hit the fancy of the captain."
"Well, these fellows grow worse and worse. To meddle with an estafette!
And that merely for the sake of a pair of leather breeches!"
The robbing of a government messenger seemed to strike the host with
More astonishment than any other enormity that had taken place on the
road; and indeed it was the first time so wanton an outrage had been
committed; the robbers generally taking care not to meddle with any
thing belonging to government.
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