John
was again sent back. He returned once more, without the purse, but with
the landlord and the whole household at his heels. A thousand
ejaculations and protestations, accompanied by all sorts of grimaces
and contortions. "No purse had been seen--his excellenza must be
mistaken."
No--his excellenza was not mistaken; the purse lay on the marble table,
under the mirror: a green purse, half full of gold and silver. Again a
thousand grimaces and contortions, and vows by San Genario, that no
purse of the kind had been seen.
The Englishman became furious. "The waiter had pocketed it. The
landlord was a knave. The inn a den of thieves--it was a d----d
country--he had been cheated and plundered from one end of it to the
other--but he'd have satisfaction--he'd drive right off to the police."
He was on the point of ordering the postilions to turn back, when, on
rising, he displaced the cushion of the carriage, and the purse of
money fell chinking to the floor.
All the blood in his body seemed to rush into his face. "D--n the
purse," said he, as he snatched it up. He dashed a handful of money on
the ground before the pale, cringing waiter. "There--be off," cried he;
"John, order the postilions to drive on."
Above half an hour had been exhausted in this altercation. The Venetian
carriage had loitered along; its passengers looking out from time to
time, and expecting the escort every moment to follow.
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