Chapter 3

SCARCELY were the bravoes seated, when Cinthia (for that was the young
woman’s name) was again summoned to the door; and the company was now
increased by two new-comers, who examined their unknown guest from head
to foot.

“Now, then,” cried one of these, who had conducted Abellino to this
respectable society, “let us see what you are like.”

As he said this he raised a burning lamp from the table, and the light of
its flame was thrown full upon Abellino’s countenance.

“Lord, forgive me my sins!” screamed Cinthia; “out upon him! what an ugly
hound it is!”

She turned hastily round, and hid her face with her hands. Dreadful was
the look with which Abellino repaid her compliment.

“Knave,” said one of the banditti, “Nature’s own hand has marked you out
for an assassin—come, prithee be frank, and tell us how thou hast
contrived so long to escape the gibbet? In what gaol didst thou leave
thy last fetters? Or from what galley hast thou taken thy departure,
without staying to say adieu?”

Abellino, folding his arms—“If I be such as you describe,” said he, with
an air of authority, and in a voice which made his hearers tremble, “’tis
for me all the better. Whate’er may be my future mode of life, Heaven
can have no right to find fault with it, since it was for that it formed
and fitted me.”

The five bravoes stepped aside, and consulted together. The subject of
their conference is easy to be divined. In the meanwhile Abellino
remained quiet and indifferent to what was passing.

After a few minutes they again approached him. One, whose countenance
was the most ferocious, and whose form exhibited the greatest marks of
muscular strength, advanced a few paces before the rest, and addressed
Abellino as follows:—

“Hear me, comrade. In Venice there exist but five banditti; you see them
before you; wilt thou be the sixth? Doubt not thou wilt find sufficient
employment. My name is Matteo, and I am the father of the band: that
sturdy fellow with the red locks is called Baluzzo; he, whose eyes
twinkle like a cat’s, is Thomaso, an arch-knave, I promise you; ’twas
Pietrino whose bones you handled so roughly to-night; and yon
thick-lipped Colossus, who stands next to Cinthia, is named Stuzza. Now,
then, you know us all—and since you are a penniless devil, we are willing
to incorporate you in our society; but we must first be assured that you
mean honestly by us.”

Abellino smiled, or rather grinned, and murmured hoarsely—“I am
starving.”

“Answer, fellow! Dost thou mean honestly by us?”

“That must the event decide.”

“Mark me, knave; the first suspicion of treachery costs you your life.
Take shelter in the Doge’s palace, and girdle yourself round with all the
power of the Republic—though clasped in the Doge’s arms, and protected by
a hundred cannons, still would we murder you! Fly to the high altar;
press the crucifix to your bosom, and even at mid-day, still would we
murder you. Think on this well, fellow, and forget not we are banditti!”

“You need not tell me that. But give me some food, and then I’ll prate
with you as long as you please. At present I am starving.
Four-and-twenty hours have elapsed since I last tasted nourishment.”

Cinthia now covered a small table with her best provisions, and filled
several silver goblets with delicious wine.

“If one could but look at him without disgust,” murmured Cinthia; “if he
had but the appearance of something human! Satan must certainly have
appeared to his mother, and thence came her child into the world with
such a frightful countenance. Ugh! it’s an absolute mask, only that I
never saw a mask so hideous.”

Abellino heeded her not; he placed himself at the table, and ate and
drank as if he would have satisfied himself for the next six months. The
banditti eyed him with looks of satisfaction, and congratulated each
other on such a valuable acquisition.

If the reader is curious to know what this same Abellino was like, he
must picture to himself a young, stout fellow, whose limbs perhaps might
have been thought not ill-formed, had not the most horrible countenance
that ever was invented by a caricaturist, or that Milton could have
adapted to the ugliest of his fallen angels, entirely marred the
advantages of his person. Black and shining, but long and straight, his
hair flew wildly about his brown neck and yellow face. His mouth so
wide, that his gums and discoloured teeth were visible, and a kind of
convulsive twist, which scarcely ever was at rest, had formed its
expression into an internal grin. His eye, for he had but one, was sunk
deep into his head, and little more than the white of it was visible, and
even that little was overshadowed by the protrusion of his dark and bushy
eyebrow. In the union of his features were found collected in one
hideous assemblage all the most coarse and uncouth traits which had ever
been exhibited singly in wooden cuts, and the observer was left in doubt
whether this repulsive physiognomy expressed stupidity of intellect, or
maliciousness of heart, or whether it implied them both together.

“Now, then, I am satisfied,” roared Abellino, and dashed the still full
goblet upon the ground. “Speak! what would you know of me? I am ready
to give you answers.”

“The first thing,” replied Matteo, “the first thing necessary is to give
us a proof of your strength, for this is of material importance in our
undertakings. Are you good at wrestling?”

“I know not; try me.”

Cinthia removed the table.

“Now, then, Abellino, which of us will you undertake? Whom among us dost
thou think that thou canst knock down as easily as yon poor dabbler in
the art, Pietrino?”

The banditti burst into a loud fit of laughter.

“Now, then,” cried Abellino, fiercely; “now, then, for the trial. Why
come you not on?”

“Fellow,” replied Matteo, “take my advice; try first what you can do with
me alone, and learn what sort of men you have to manage. Think you, we
are marrowless boys, or delicate signors?”

Abellino answered him by a scornful laugh. Matteo became furious. His
companions shouted aloud, and clapped their hands.

“To business!” said Abellino; “I’m now in a right humour for sport! Look
to yourselves, my lads.” And in the same instant he collected his forces
together, threw the gigantic Matteo over his head as had he been an
infant, knocked Struzza down on the right hand, and Pietrino on the left,
tumbled Thomaso to the end of the room head over heels, and stretched
Baluzzo without animation upon the neighbouring benches.

Three minutes elapsed ere the subdued bravoes could recover themselves.
Loudly shouted Abellino, while the astonished Cinthia gazed and trembled
at the terrible exhibition.

“By the blood of St. Januarius!” cried Matteo at length, rubbing his
battered joints, “the fellow is our master! Cinthia, take care to give
him our best chamber.”

“He must have made a compact with the devil!” grumbled Thomaso, and
forced his dislocated wrist back into its socket.

No one seemed inclined to hazard a second trial of strength. The night
was far advanced, or rather the grey morning already was visible over the
sea. The banditti separated, and each retired to his chamber.