"But ah, signorini miei, I am an infelice infelicissimo, ever
persecuted by le Fate."
"By whom? A count like Schlangenwald?" asked Ebbo.
"Das Schicksal," whispered Friedel.
"Three long miserable years did I spend as a captive among the Moors,
having lost all, my ships and all I had, and being forced to row
their galleys, gli scomunicati."
"Galleys!" exclaimed Ebbo; "there are some pictured in our World
History before Carthage. Would that I could see one!"
"The signorino would soon have seen his fill, were he between the
decks, chained to the bench for weeks together, without ceasing to
row for twenty-four hours together, with a renegade standing over to
lash us, or to put a morsel into our mouths if we were fainting."
"The dogs! Do they thus use Christian men?" cried Friedel.
"Si, si--ja wohl. There were a good fourscore of us, and among them
a Tedesco, a good man and true, from whom I learnt la lingua loro."
"Our tongue!--from whom?" asked one twin of the other.
"A Tedesco, a fellow-countryman of sue eccellenze.
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