Chapter 91: The Bandit: VII
Luigi gazed at him for a moment without betraying the slightest emotion, while Teresa, trembling in every limb, dared approach the slain outlaw only gradually, casting a hesitating glance at the dead body over her lover’s shoulder.
Suddenly Luigi turned toward his lover. "Ah," he said, "good, good! You’re dressed. Now it’s my turn to dress myself."
Teresa was clothed from head to foot in the outfit of the Count of San-Felice’s daughter. Luigi took Cucumetto’s body in his arms and carried it to the cave, while Teresa remained outside. If a second traveler had passed, he would have seen a strange thing, a shepherdess watching her flock, dressed in a cashmere gown, with pearl earrings and necklace, diamond pins, and buttons of sapphires, emeralds, and rubies. He would no doubt have believed he’d returned to ancient times and would have declared, on reaching Paris, that he’d met a shepherdess seated at the foot of the Sabine mountains.
At the end of fifteen minutes, Luigi left the cave. His costume was no less elegant than Teresa’s. He wore a vest of garnet-colored velvet with buttons of cut gold, a silk waistcoat covered with embroidery, a Roman scarf tied around his neck, a cartridge box worked with gold and red and green silk, sky-blue velvet breeches fastened above the knee with diamond buckles, garters of deerskin worked with a thousand intricate designs, and a hat with ribbons of all colors. Two watches hung from his belt, and a splendid dagger was at his waist.
Teresa uttered a cry of admiration. In this outfit, Luigi resembled a painting by a famous artist. He had assumed the entire costume of Cucumetto. The young man saw the effect he’d produced on his betrothed, and a smile of pride passed over his lips.
"Now," he said to Teresa, "are you ready to share my fortune, whatever it may be?"
"Oh yes!" the young woman exclaimed enthusiastically.
"And follow me wherever I go?"
"To the world’s end."
"Then take my arm, and let’s go. We have no time to lose."
The young woman did so without questioning her lover about where he was taking her, for he appeared to her at this moment as handsome, proud, and powerful as a god. They went toward the forest and soon entered it.
We need hardly say that all the mountain paths were known to Luigi. He therefore went forward without a moment’s hesitation, although there was no beaten track, but he knew his way by looking at the trees and bushes. Thus they kept advancing for nearly an hour and a half. At the end of this time they’d reached the forest’s thickest part. A dry streambed led into a deep gorge. Luigi took this wild road, which, enclosed between two ridges and shadowed by the dense covering of pines, seemed, but for the difficulties of its descent, like that legendary path to the underworld of which ancient poets speak.
Teresa had become alarmed at the wild and deserted look of the area around her and pressed closely against her guide, not uttering a syllable. But as she saw him advance with steady step and composed face, she tried to repress her emotion.
Suddenly, about ten paces from them, a man stepped from behind a tree and aimed at Luigi.
"Not another step," he said, "or you’re a dead man."
"What," Luigi said, raising his hand with a gesture of disdain while Teresa, no longer able to restrain her alarm, clung closely to him, "do wolves attack each other?"
"Who are you?" the sentinel demanded.
"I am Luigi Vampa, shepherd of the San-Felice farm."
"What do you want?"
"I would speak with your companions who are in the clearing at Rocca Bianca."
"Follow me, then," the sentinel said, "or, since you know your way, go first."
Luigi smiled disdainfully at this precaution on the bandit’s part, went ahead of Teresa, and continued to advance with the same firm and easy step as before. At the end of ten minutes the bandit signaled them to stop. The two young people obeyed. Then the bandit three times imitated a crow’s cry. A croak answered this signal.
"Good!" the sentry said. "You may now go on."
Luigi and Teresa set forward again. As they went, Teresa clung tremblingly to her lover at the sight of weapons and the gleam of rifles through the trees. The retreat of Rocca Bianca was at the top of a small mountain, which no doubt in former days had been a volcano, an extinct volcano before the days when legendary founders had come to establish the city of Rome.
Teresa and Luigi reached the summit and suddenly found themselves in the presence of twenty bandits.
"Here is a young man who seeks and wishes to speak to you," the sentinel said.
"What does he have to say?" asked the young man who was in command in the chief’s absence.
"I wish to say that I’m tired of a shepherd’s life," was Luigi’s reply.
"Ah, I understand," the lieutenant said. "And you seek admission into our ranks?"
"Welcome!" cried several bandits from various towns who had recognized Luigi Vampa.
"Yes, but I came to ask something more than to be your companion."
"And what may that be?" the bandits asked with astonishment.
"I come to ask to be your captain," the young man said.
The bandits shouted with laughter.
"And what have you done to aspire to this honor?" demanded the lieutenant.
"I have killed your chief, Cucumetto, whose clothes I now wear, and I set fire to the villa San-Felice to procure a wedding dress for my betrothed."
An hour later, Luigi Vampa was chosen captain, replacing Cucumetto, deceased.
"Well, my dear Albert," Franz said, turning toward his friend, "what do you think of citizen Luigi Vampa?"
"I say he’s a myth," Albert replied, "and never had an existence."
"And what is a myth?" Pastrini asked.
"The explanation would be too long, my dear landlord," Franz replied.
"And you say that Signor Vampa practices his profession at this moment in the area around Rome?"
"And with a boldness no bandit before him ever displayed."
"Then the police have tried in vain to capture him?"
"Why, you see, he has a good understanding with the shepherds in the plains, the fishermen of the river, and the smugglers of the coast. They search for him in the mountains, and he’s on the waters. They follow him on the waters, and he’s on the open sea. Then they pursue him, and he’s suddenly taken refuge on the islands. And when they hunt for him there, he reappears suddenly in one of the towns nearby."
"And how does he behave toward travelers?"
"His plan is very simple. It depends on the distance he is from the city, whether he gives eight hours, twelve hours, or a day for them to pay their ransom. And when that time has elapsed, he allows another hour’s grace. At the sixtieth minute of this hour, if the money isn’t forthcoming, he blows out the prisoner’s brains with a pistol shot or plants his dagger in their heart, and that settles the account."
"Well, Albert," Franz asked his companion, "are you still disposed to go to the Colosseum by the outer wall?"
"Quite so," Albert said, "if the way is picturesque."
The clock struck nine as the door opened, and a coachman appeared. "Gentlemen," he said, "the coach is ready."
"Well then," Franz said, "let’s go to the Colosseum."
"By the northern gate or by the streets, sirs?"
"By the streets, for heaven’s sake! By the streets!" Franz cried.
"Ah, my dear fellow," Albert said, rising and lighting his third cigarette, "really, I thought you had more courage."
With that, the two young men went down the staircase and got into the carriage.