The chief of the party observed this movement; and laying his hand upon
the antiquary's shoulder--"Harkee! Signor Dottore!" said he, "we have
drank together as friends and comrades, let us part as such. We
understand you; we know who and what you are; for we know who every
body is that sleeps at Terracina, or that puts foot upon the road. You
are a rich man, but you carry all your wealth in your head. We can't
get at it, and we should not know what to do with it, if we could. I
see you are uneasy about your ring; but don't worry your mind; it is
not worth taking; you think it an antique, but it's a counterfeit--a
mere sham."
Here the doctor would have put in a word, for his antiquarian pride was
touched.
"Nay, nay," continued the other, "we've no time to dispute about it.
Value it as you please. Come, you are a brave little old signor--one
more cup of wine and we'll pay the reckoning. No compliments--I insist
on it. So--now make the best of your way back to Terracina; it's
growing late--buono viaggio!--and harkee, take care how you wander
among these mountains."
They shouldered their fusils, sprang gaily up the rocks, and the little
doctor hobbled back to Terracina, rejoicing that the robbers had let
his seal ring, his watch, and his treatise escape unmolested, though
rather nettled that they should have pronounced his veritable intaglio
a counterfeit.
The improvvisatore had shown many symptoms of impatience during this
recital.
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