Chapter 5

"'Every body knows that a true sporting dog will follow any one who has a gun on his shoulder. "Soliman, Soliman!" cried I; and Soliman came. Sir, the instinct of the dog was remarkable: we had hardly got out of the village when he made a point--such a point, sir!--his tail out as straight as a ramrod. There was the thrush, not ten paces from me. I fired both barrels--Poum! Poum! Powder not worth a rush. I had used all my own the day before, and this was some I had got from my host. The thrush flew away unhurt. But Soliman had kept his eye on him, and went straight to the place where the bird was. Again he made a most beautiful point; but although I looked with all my eyes, I could not see the thrush. I was stooping down in this manner, looking for the creature, when suddenly it flew away, and so fast, that before I got my gun to my shoulder, it was out of reach. Soliman opened his eyes and stared at me; as much as to say, "What is the meaning of all this?" The expression of the dog's face made me feel quit humiliated. I could not help speaking to him. "Never mind," said I, nodding my head, "you will see next time." You would have thought the animal understood me. He again began to hunt about. In less than ten minutes he stopped as if he were cut out of marble. I was determined not to lose this chance; and I went right before the dog's nose. The bird rose literally under my feet; but I was so agitated that I fired my first barrel too soon, and my second too late. The first discharge passed by him like a single ball; the second was too scattered, and he passed between it. It was then that a thing happened to me--one of those things which I should not repeat, but for my attachment to the truth. The dog looked at me for a moment with a sort of smile upon his countenance: then, coming close up to me while I was reloading my gun, he lifted his left hind leg, made water against my gaiter, and then turning round, trotted away in the direction of his master's house. You may easily suppose, that if it had been a man who had thus insulted me, I would have had his life, or he should have had mine. But what could I say, sir, to a dumb beast which God had not gifted with reason?'"

This canine insult only acts as a spur to the indefatigable chasseur, who, dogless as he finds himself, follows up his thrush till he reaches the town of Hyères. Here he loses all trace of the bird, but endeavours to console himself by eating the oranges which grow in the garden of his hotel. Whilst thus engaged, a thrush perches on a tree beside him, and the first glance at the creature's profile satisfied him that it is the same bird whose society he has been rejoicing in the for the last two days. Unfortunately his gun is in the house, of which the thrush seems to be aware, for it continues singing and dressing its feathers on a branch within ten feet of his head. Afraid of losing sight of it, M. Louet waits till the landlord comes to announce supper, and then desires him to bring his gun. But there is a punishment of fine and imprisonment for whoever fires a shot, between sunset and sunrise, within the precincts of the town; and although the enthusiastic sportsman is willing enough to run this risk, the hotel-keeper fears to be taken for an accomplice, and refuses to fetch the gun, threatening to drive away the bird if M. Louet goes for it himself. At last they come to terms. M. Louet sups and sleeps under the tree, the bird roosts on the same; and at the first stroke of the matin bell, mine host appears with the fowling-piece. Our chasseur stretches out his hand to take it, and--the bird flies away.

M. Louet throws down the price of his supper, and scales the garden wall in pursuit. He follows his intended victim the whole of that day, and at last has the mortification of seeing it carried away before his eyes by a hawk. Foot-sore and tired, hungry and thirsty, the unfortunate musician sinks down exhausted by the side of a road. A peasant passes by.

"'My friend,' said I to him, 'is there any town, village, or house in this neighbourhood?'

"'_Gnor si_,' answered he, '_cé la citta di Nizza un miglia avanti_.'

"The thrush had led me into Italy."

At Nice M. Louet is in great tribulation. In the course of his long ramble his money has worked a hole in his pocket, and he discovers that he is penniless just at the moment that he has established himself at the best hotel, and ordered supper for three by way of making up for past privations. He gets out of his difficulties, however, by giving a concert, which produces him a hundred crowns; and he then embarks for Toulon, on board the letter of marque, La Vierge des Sept Douleurs, Captain Garnier.

Once on the water, there is a fine opportunity for a display of French naval heroism, at the expense, of course, of the unfortunate English, to whom M. Dumas bears about the same degree of affection that another dark-complexioned gentleman is said to do to holy water. This is one of M. Dumas's little peculiarities or affectations, it is difficult to say which. Wherever it is possible to bring in England and the English, depreciate them in any way, or turn them into ridicule, M. Dumas invariably does it, and those passages are frequently the most amusing in his books. In the present instance, it is a very harmless piece of faufarronade in which he indulges.

The armed brig in which M. Louet has embarked, falls in which a squadron of English men-of-war. Hearing a great bustle upon deck, our musician goes up to enquire the cause, and finds the captain quietly seated, smoking his pipe. After the usual salutations--

"'M. Louet, have you ever seen a naval combat?' said the captain to me.

"'Never, sir.'

"'Would you like to see one?'

"'Why, captain, to say the truth, there are other things I should better like to see.'

"'I am sorry for it; for it you wished to see one, a real good one, your wish would soon be gratified.'

"'What! captain,' cried I, feeling myself grow pale; 'you do not mean to say we are going to have a naval combat? Ha, ha! I see you are joking, captain.'

"'Joking, eh? Look yonder. What do you see?'

"'I see three very fine vessels.'

"'Count again.'

"'I see more. Four, five, there are six of them.'

"'Can you distinguish what there is on the flag of the nearest one? Here, take the glass.'

"'I cannot make out very well, but I think I see a harp.'

"'Exactly.--The Irish harp. In a few minutes they'll play as a tune on it.'

"'But captain,' said I, 'they are still a long way off, and it appears to me, that by spreading all those sails which are now furled upon your masts and yards, you might manage to escape. In your place I should certainly run away. Excuse me for the suggestion, but it is my opinion as fourth bass of the Marseilles theatre. If I had the honour to be a sailor, I should perhaps think differently.'"

Very sensible advice, too, M. Louet, _we_ should have thought at least, considering the odds of six to one. But the fire-eating Frenchman thinks otherwise.

"'If it were a man, instead of a bass, who made me such a proposal,' replied the captain, 'I should have had a word or two to say to him about it. Know, sir, that Captain Garnier _never_ runs away! He fights till his vessel is riddled like a sieve, then he allows himself to be boarded, and when his decks are covered with the enemy, he goes into the powder magazine with his pipe in his mouth, shakes out the burning ashes, and sends the English on a voyage of discovery upwards.'

"'And the French?'

"'The French too.'

"'And the passengers?'

"'The passengers likewise.'

"'At that moment, a small white cloud appeared issuing from the side of one of the English ships. This was followed by a dull noise like a heavy blow on the big drum. I saw some splinters fly from the top of the brig's gunwale, and an artilleryman, who was just then standing on his gun, fell backwards upon me. 'Come, my friend,' said I, 'mind what you are about.' And, as he did not stir, I pushed him. He fell upon the deck. I looked at him with more attention. His head was off.

"My nerves were so affected by this sight, that five minutes later I found myself in the ship's hold, without exactly knowing how I had got there."

Thanks to a storm, the six English men of war manage to escape from the brig, and when M. Louet ventures to re-appear upon deck, he finds himself in the Italian port of Piombino, opposite the island of Elba. He has had enough of the water, and goes on shore, where he bargains with a vetturino to take him to Florence. A young officer of French hussars, and four Italians, are his travelling companions. The former, on learning his name and profession, asks him sundry questions about a certain Mademoiselle Zephyrine, formerly a dancer at the Marseilles theatre, and in whom he seems to take a strong interest.

Bad springs and worse roads render it very difficult to sleep. At last, on the second night of their journey, M. Louet succeeds in getting up a doze, out of which he is roused in a very unpleasant manner. We will give his own account of it.

"'Two pistol-shots, the flash of which almost burned my face, awoke me. They were fired by M. Ernest, (the hussar officer.) We were attacked by banditti.'

"'_Faccia in terra! Faccia in terra!_' I jumped out of the carriage, and as I did so, one of the brigands gave me a blow between the shoulders, that threw me upon my face. My companions were already in that position, with the exception of M. Ernest, who was defending himself desperately. At length he was overpowered and made prisoner.

"My pockets were turned inside out, and my hundred crowns taken away. I had a diamond ring on my finger, which I hoped they would not observe, and I turned the stone inside, heartily wishing, as I did so, that it had the power of Gyges' ring, and could render me invisible. But all was in vain. The robbers soon found it out. When they had taken every thing from us--

"'Is there a musician amongst you?' said he who appeared the chief.

"Nobody answered.

"'Well,' repeated he, 'are you all deaf? I asked if any of you knew how to play on an instrument.'

"'Pardieu!' said a voice, which I recognized as that of the young officer; 'there's M. Louet, who plays the bass.'

"I wished myself a hundred feet under ground.

"'Which is M. Louet?' said the brigand. 'Is it this one?' And, stooping down, he laid hold of the collar of my shooting-jacket, and lifted me on my feet.

"'For Heaven's sake, what do you want with me?' cried I.

"'Nothing to be so frightened about,' was the answer. 'For a week past we have been hunting every where for a musician, without being able to find one. The captain will be delighted to see you.'

"'What!' cried I, 'are you going to take me to the captain?'

"'Certainly we are.'

"'To separate me from my companions?'

"'What can we do with them? _They_ are not musicians.'

"'Gentlemen!' cried I, 'for God's sake, help me! do not let me be carried off in this manner.'

"'The gentlemen will have the goodness to remain with their noses in the dust for the space of a quarter of an hour,' said the brigand. 'As to the officer, tie him to a tree,' continued he, to the four men who were holding the hussar. 'In a quarter of an hour the postillion will untie him. Not a minute sooner, if you value your life.'

"The postillion gave a sort of affirmative grunt, and the robbers now moved off in the direction of the mountains. I was led between two of them. After marching for some time, we saw a light in a window, and presently halted at a little inn on a cross-road. The bandits went up stairs, excepting two, who remained with me in the kitchen, and one of whom had appropriated my fowling-piece, and the other my game-bag. As to my diamond ring and my hundred crowns, they had become perfectly invisible.

"Presently somebody shouted from above, and my guards, taking me by the collar, pushed me up stairs, and into a room on the first floor.

"Seated at a table, upon which was a capital supper and numerous array of bottles, was the captain of the robbers, a fine-looking man of thirty-five or forty years of age. He was dressed exactly like a theatrical robber, in blue velvet, with a red sash and silver buckles. His arm was passed round the waist of a very pretty girl in the costume of a Roman peasant; that is to say, an embroidered boddice, short bright-coloured petticoat, and red stockings. Her feet attracted my attention, they were so beautifully small. On one of her fingers I saw my diamond ring--a circumstance which, as well as the company in which I found her, gave me a very indifferent idea of the young lady's morality.

"'What countryman are you?' asked the captain.

"'I am a Frenchman, your excellency.'

"'So much the better!' cried the young girl.

"I saw with pleasure that, at any rate, I was amongst people who spoke my own language.

"'You are a musician?'

"'I am fourth bass at the Marseilles theatre.'

"'Bring this gentleman's bass,' said the captain to one of his men. 'Now, my little Rina,' said he, turning to his mistress, 'I hope you are ready to dance."

"'I always was,' answered she, 'but how could I without music?'

"'_Non ho trovato l'instrumento_,' said the robber, reappearing at the door.

"'What!' cried the captain in a voice of thunder; 'no instrument?'

"'Captain,' interposed his lieutenant, 'I searched every where, but could not find even the smallest violoncello.'

"'_Bestia_!' cried the captain.

"'Excellency,' I ventured to observe, 'it is not his fault. I had no bass with me.'

"'Very well,' said the captain, 'send off five men immediately to Sienna, Volterra, Grossetto--all over the country. I must have a bass by to-morrow night.'

"I could not help thinking I had seen Mademoiselle Rina's face somewhere before, and I was cudgeling my memory to remember where, when she addressed the captain.

"'Tonino,' said she, 'you have not even asked the poor man if he is hungry.'

"I was touched by this little attention, and, on the captain's invitation, I drew a chair to the table, in fear and trembling I acknowledge; but it was nearly twelve hours since I had eaten any thing, and my hunger was perfectly canine. Mademoiselle Rina herself had the kindness to pass me the dishes and fill my glass; so that I had abundant opportunities of admiring my own ring, which sparkled upon her finger. I began to perceive, however, that I should not be so badly off as I had expected, and that the captain was disposed to treat me well.

"Supper over, I was allowed to retire to a room and a bed that had been prepared for me. I slept fifteen hours without waking. The robbers had the politeness not to disturb me till I awakened of my own accord. Then, however, five of them entered my room, each carrying a bass. I chose the best, and they made firewood of the others.

"When I had made my choice, they told me the captain was waiting dinner for me; and accordingly, on entering the principal room of the inn, I found a table spread for the captain, Mademoiselle Rina, the lieutenant, and myself. There were several other tables for the rest of the banditti. The room was lighted up with at least three hundred wax candles.

"The dinner was a merry one. The robbers were really very good sort of people, and the captain was in an excellent humour. When the feasting was over,

"'You have not forgotten your promise, Rina, I hope?' said he.

"'Certainly not,' was the reply. 'In a quarter of an hour I am ready.'

"So saying, she skipped out of the room.

"'And you, Signor Musico,' said the captain, 'I hope you are going to distinguish yourself.'

"'I will do my best, captain.'

"'If I am satisfied, you shall have back your hundred crowns.'

"'And my diamond ring, captain?'

"'Oh! as to that, no. Besides, you see Rina has got it, and you are too gallant to wish to take it from her.'

"At this moment Mademoiselle Rina made her appearance in the costume of a shepherdess--a boddice of silver, short silk petticoats, and a large Cashmere shawl twisted round her waist. She was really charming in this dress. I seized my bass. I fancied myself in the orchestra at Marseilles.

"'What would you like me to play, Mademoiselle?'

"'Do you know the shawl-dance in the ballet of _Clary_?'

"'Certainly; it is my favourite.'

"I began to play, Rina to dance, and the banditti to applaud. She danced admirably. The more I looked at her, the more convinced I became that I had seen her before.

"She was in the middle of a _pirouette_ when the door opened, and the innkeeper entering, whispered something in the captain's ear.

"'_Ove sono_?' said the latter, quietly. 'Where are they?'

"'A San Dalmazio.'

"'No nearer? Then there is no hurry.'

"'What is the matter?' said Rina, executing a magnificent _entrechat_.

"'Nothing. Only those rascally travellers have given the alarm at Florence, and the hussars of the Grand-duchess Eliza are looking for us.'

"'They are too late for the performance,' said Rina, laughing. 'I have finished my dance.'

"It was lucky, for the bow had fallen from my hands at the news I had just heard. Rina made one bound to the door, and then turning, as if she had been on the stage, curtsied to the audience, and kissed her hand to the captain. The applause was deafening; I doubt if she had ever had such a triumph.

"'And now, to arms!' cried the captain. 'Prepare a horse for Rina and another for the musician. _We_ will go on foot. The road to Romagna, remember! Stragglers to rejoin at Chianciano.'

"For a few minutes all was bustle and preparation.

"'Here I am,' cried Rina, running in, attired in her Roman peasant's dress.

"'_Usseri, Usseri_!' said the innkeeper.

"'Off with you!' cried the captain, and every one hurried towards the stairs.

"'The devil!' said the captain, turning to me, 'you are forgetting your bass, I think.'

"I took the bass. I would willingly have crept into it. Two horses stood ready saddled at the house door.

"'Well, Monsieur le Musicien,' said Rina, 'do you not help me to get on my horse? You are not very gallant.'

"I held out my arm to assist her, and as I did so she put a small piece of paper into my hand.

"A cold perspiration stood upon my forehead. What could this paper be? Was it a billet-doux? Had I been so unfortunate as to make a conquest, which would render me the rival of the captain? My first impulse was to throw the note away; but on second thoughts I put it in my pocket.

"'_Usseri, Usseri_!' cried the innkeeper again, and a noise like that of a distant galloping was heard. I scrambled on my horse, which two of the robbers took by the bridle; two others led that of Mademoiselle Rina. The captain, with his carbine on his shoulder, ran beside his mistress, the lieutenant accompanied me, and the remainder of the band, consisting of fifteen or eighteen men, brought up the rear. Five or six shots were fired some three hundred yards behind us, and the balls whistled in our ears. 'To the left!' cried the captain, and we threw ourselves into a sort of ravine, at the bottom of which ran a rapid stream. Here we halted and listened, and heard the hussars gallop furiously past on the high-road.

"'If they keep on at that pace, they'll soon be at Grossetto,' said the captain laughing."

This is the unfortunate musician's first essay in horsemanship, and when, after twelve hours' march across the country, with his bass strapped upon his shoulders, he halts at the inn at Chianciano, he is more dead than alive. He remembers, however, to read Mademoiselle Rina's note. From this, and a few words which she takes an opportunity of saying to him, he finds that she is an opera-dancer named Zephyrine, who had had an engagement a year or two previously at the Marseilles theatre. She had since transferred herself to the Teatro de la Valle at Rome, where the bandit captain, Tonino, happening to witness her performance, became enamoured of her, and laid a plan for carrying her off, which had proved successful. Her lover, however, Ernest, the same officer of hussars who had been M. Louet's travelling companion, is in search of her; and, to assist him in his pursuit, she writes her name, and that of the place they are next going to, upon the window of each inn they stop at. It was for this purpose she had secured M. Louet's diamond ring.

If contrast was Dumas' object in writing this volume, he has certainly been highly successful in carrying out his intention. Most writers would have contented themselves with composing the female portion of the brigands' society, of some dark-browed Italian _contadina_, with flashing eyes and jetty ringlets, a knife in her garter and a mousquetoon in her brawny fist, and a dozen crucifixes and amulets round her neck. At most, one might have expected to meet with some English lady in a green veil, (all English ladies, who travel, wear green veils,) whose carriage had been attacked, and herself carried off on the road from Florence to Rome. But M. Dumas scorns such commonplace _dramatis personae_, and is satisfied with nothing less than transporting a French ballet-dancer into the Appenines, with all her paraphernalia of gauze drapery, tinsel decorations, and opera airs and graces; not forgetting the orchestra, in the person of the luckless bass player. Yet so ingeniously does he dovetail it all together, so probable does he make his improbabilities appear, that we become almost reconciled to the idea of finding Mademoiselle Zephyrine Taglionizing away upon the filthy floor of a mountain _osteria_, and are inclined to be astonished that the spectators should not be provided with bouquets to throw at her upon the conclusion of her performance.

Several days are passed in running from one place to the other, always followed by the hussars, from whom the banditti have some narrow escapes. M. Louet is taken great care of in consideration of his skill as a musician, and he on his part takes all imaginable care of his bass, which he looks upon as a sort of a safeguard. At length they arrive at the castle of Anticoli, a villa which the captain rents from a Roman nobleman, and where he considers himself in perfect safety. Here M. Louet is installed in a magnificent apartment, where he finds linen and clothes, of which he is much in need. His toilet completed, he is conducted to the drawing-room by a livery servant, who bears a strong resemblance to one of his friends the banditti. But we will let him tell his story in his own words.

"There were three persons in the room into which I was ushered; a young lady, a very elegantly dressed man, and a French officer. I thought there must be some mistake, and was walking backwards out of the apartment, when the lady said--

"'My dear M. Louet, where are you going? Do you not mean to dine with us?'

"'Pardon me,' said I, 'I did not recognise you, Mademoiselle.'

"'If you prefer it, you shall be served in your apartment,' said the elegant-looking man.

"'What, captain,' cried I, 'is it you?'

"'M. Louet would not be so unkind as to deprive us of his society,' said the French officer with a polite bow. I turned to thank him for his civility. It was the lieutenant. It put me in mind of the changes in a pantomime.

"'_Al suo commodo_,' said a powdered lackey, opening the folding doors of a magnificent dining-room. The captain offered his hand to Mademoiselle Zephyrine. The lieutenant and I followed.

"'I hope you will be pleased with my cook, my dear M. Louet,' said the captain, waving me to a chair, and seating himself. 'He is a French artist of some talent. I have ordered two or three Provençal dishes on purpose for you.'

"'Pah! with garlic in them!' said the French officer, taking a pinch of perfumed snuff out of a gold box. I began to think I was dreaming.

"'Have you seen the park yet, M. Louet?' asked the captain.

"'Yes, Excellency, from the window of my room.'

"'They say it is full of game. Are you fond of shooting?'

"'I delight in it. Are there any thrushes in the park?'