It was quite theatrical.
The captain now held an ink-horn, and giving me pen and paper, ordered
me to write what he should dictate. I obeyed. It was a demand, couched
in the style of robber eloquence, "that the prince should send three
thousand dollars for my ransom, or that my death should be the
consequence of a refusal."
I knew enough of the desperate character of these beings to feel
assured this was not an idle menace. Their only mode of insuring
attention to their demands, is to make the infliction of the penalty
inevitable. I saw at once, however, that the demand was preposterous,
and made in improper language.
I told the captain so, and assured him, that so extravagant a sum would
never be granted; that I was neither friend or relative of the prince,
but a mere artist, employed to execute certain paintings. That I had
nothing to offer as a ransom but the price of my labors; if this were
not sufficient, my life was at their disposal: it was a thing on which
I sat but little value.
I was the more hardy in my reply, because I saw that coolness and
hardihood had an effect upon the robbers. It is true, as I finished
speaking the captain laid his hand upon his stiletto, but he restrained
himself, and snatching the letter, folded it, and ordered me, in a
peremptory tone, to address it to the prince. He then despatched one of
the laborers with it to Tusculum, who promised to return with all
possible speed.
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