I again took out my materials for drawing, and amused myself with
sketching the magnificent prospect. It was now about noon, and every
thing seemed sunk into repose, like the bandit that lay sleeping before
me. The noon-tide stillness that reigned over these mountains, the vast
landscape below, gleaming with distant towns and dotted with various
habitations and signs of life, yet all so silent, had a powerful effect
upon my mind. The intermediate valleys, too, that lie among mountains
have a peculiar air of solitude. Few sounds are heard at mid-day to
break the quiet of the scene. Sometimes the whistle of a solitary
muleteer, lagging with his lazy animal along the road that winds
through the centre of the valley; sometimes the faint piping of a
shepherd's reed from the side of the mountain, or sometimes the bell of
an ass slowly pacing along, followed by a monk with bare feet and bare
shining head, and carrying provisions to the convent.
I had continued to sketch for some time among my sleeping companions,
when at length I saw the captain of the band approaching, followed by a
peasant leading a mule, on which was a well-filled sack. I at first
apprehended that this was some new prey fallen into the hands of the
robbers, but the contented look of the peasant soon relieved me, and I
was rejoiced to hear that it was our promised repast. The brigands now
came running from the three sides of the mountain, having the quick
scent of vultures.
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