On entering the marble vestibule, I was met by the Visconte, who embraced me in the usual fashion; bestowing a kiss on my cheek with that theatrical air of friendship which is so truly continental, and surprises the more phlegmatic but warm-hearted Briton. However, having been pretty well used to such greetings while quartered in Sicily, I returned with a good grace the salutation of Santugo; whom I found to be a handsome young man about five-and-twenty (my own age), and of singularly noble aspect. His address was polished and captivating; the brilliancy of his large eyes gave a pleasing animation to his countenance, and lent a charm to his decided manner. His black mustachio, twisted on his upper lip, his short black hair (he was beyond the suspicion of Jacobinism), and closely buttoned sopraveste of dark-coloured velvet, gave him somewhat of a military air. When he spoke or laughed, he had more of the Calabrian mountaineer in his tone and expression, than of the oily condescension, and excessive politeness of the Italian noble; who, notwithstanding his many quarters and crests, and his boasted descent from the heroes of Rome and Magna Grecia, is too often a base and treacherous libertine—perhaps a coward. What I took to be the jewelled pommel of a concealed poniard, sparkled at times beneath his vest (it was a time and country in which no unarmed man was safe); and suspended by a scarlet riband from a button-hole, the little star of a Sicilian order glittered on his breast. His shirt-collar, of the richest lace, was left negligently open, the evening being sultry; a short cloak, or mantello was thrown over his left arm, and a broad hat of light brown beaver, encircled by an embroidered riband, was held under his right: completing a costume which made his whole appearance sufficiently striking, when viewed in that lofty and magnificent vestibule; where the falling waters of a fountain, statues of the purest marble, and gilded cornices and pilasters, were gleaming in the rays of the setting sun, which streamed through four tall latticed windows. Introducing myself as Lieutenant Claude Dundas, of his Britannic Majesty’s 62nd Regiment, and Aide-de-camp to Sir John Stewart, I presented him with the despatch, and added something to its import; observing how much we stood in need of immediate reinforcement from the Calabrian barons, in consequence of the smallness of our force. "Signor, you have but anticipated me," said the Visconte. "The moment I heard of your disembarkation on the coast, I hoisted the Winged-Horse of Naples on the villa, and beat up for recruits. I have already mustered many, in addition to those peasantry over whom, as hereditary Feudatorio, I have distinct authority and power. These men served under me when the troops of Naples drove the French generals Championnet and Macdonald from Rome; and, from their courage and character, they will, I have no doubt, be a very acceptable aid to your general."