outherners can when they are
making a bargain or _combinazione_. The old landlord brisked up
wonderfully at the prospect of such a struggle. It doubtless reminded
him of days long past. It made his sluggish blood flow. I believe that
he would not have missed the excitement even to pocket a large
commission from his opponent. I was so rare a bird and he had not seen a
traveller since heaven knows when. My Italian is poor but I understood
some of the uproar. The man of carriages presumed that I was a noble
gentleman who desired the best and would be ready to pay for it. The
landlord retorted that even if I was a prince and a millionaire, both of
which seemed likely, it was no reason I should be robbed. He suggested
fifteen lire, and the outraged brigand shrieked and demanded forty. For
an hour they wrangled and haggled and swore. First one made believe to
go, and then the other. They came up and came down franc by franc. More
than once any northerner would have anticipated bloodshed. They
struggled and beat the palms of their hands with outstretched fingers.
It took them half an hour to quarrel over the last two francs. And
finally it was settled that the noble prince and millionaire, then
leaning against the wall smoking cigarettes, was to pay twenty-two lire
and to give a _pourboire_. They shook hands over it and beamed. My old
landlord wiped his brow and communicated the result to me with tears of
pride. I thanked him for his care of my interests and paid him his
modest bill at once. He entreated me to speak well of his hotel, the
Albergo Reale, and really I have done my best.

The brigand furnished me with a decent pair of horses--decent at anyrate
for Italy--and I left for Formia before noon. Now I was no longer on the
railway, but on the real road, the Appian Way, and I felt in a strange
dream, such as might well come to one on a spot where ancient Rome, the
age of the Goth, and mediaeval Italy and modern times mingled. By the
road were fragments of Roman tombs; at Torre dell' Epitafia was the
ancient southern boundary of the Papal States; in reedy marshes by the
road, and near the sea, were herds of huge black buffalo. And the sun
shone very brightly for all that it was winter; the distances were fine
blue; the sea sparkled, and the earth even then showed its fertility.

Eleven miles from Terracina we drove into Fondi, and the sky clouded
over, as indeed it should have done, for Fondi is a gloomy and unhappy,
a su