oney! You cannot understand
the existence of such conflicting elements in the Italian character?
No--I dare say not. The tendency of the calculating northerner under
the same circumstances would have been to make as much out of me as
possible by means of various small and contemptible items, and then to
go with broadly honest countenance to the nearest police-station and
describe my suspicious appearance and manner, thus exposing me to fresh
expense besides personal annoyance. With the rare tact that
distinguishes the southern races the captain changed the conversation
by a reference to the tobacco we were both enjoying.

"It is good, is it not?" he asked.

"Excellent!" I answered, as indeed it was.

His white teeth glittered in a smile of amusement.

"It should be of the finest quality--for it is a present from one who
will smoke nothing but the choice brands. Ah, Dio! what a fine
gentleman spoiled is Carmelo Neri!"

I could not repress a slight start of surprise. What caprice of Fate
associated me with this famous brigand? I was actually smoking his
tobacco, and I owed all my present wealth to his stolen treasures
secreted in my family vault!

"You know the man, then?" I inquired with some curiosity.

"Know him? As well as I know myself. Let me see, it is two
months--yes--two months to-day since he was with me on board this very
vessel. It happened in this way--I was at Gaeta--he came to me and told
me the gendarmes were after him. He offered me more gold than I ever
had in my life to take him to Termini, from whence he could get to one
of his hiding-places in the Montemaggiore. He brought Teresa with him;
he found me alone on the brig, my men had gone ashore. He said, 'Take
us to Termini and I will give you so much; refuse and I will slit your
throat.' Ha! ha! ha! That was good. I laughed at him. I put a chair for
Teresa on deck, and gave her some big peaches. I said, 'See, my
Carmelo! what use is there in threats? You will not kill me, and I
shall not betray you. You are a thief, and a bad thief--by all the
saints you are--but I dare say you would not be much worse than the
hotel-keepers, if you could only keep your hand off your knife.' (For
you know, signor, if you once enter a hotel you must pay almost a
ransom before you can get out again!) Yes--and I reasoned with Carmelo
in this manner: I told him, 'I do not want a large fortune for carrying
you and Teresa across to Termini--pay me the just passage and