One night, at Queen Carolina’s grand theatre, I observed, in the dress-circle, three young ladies, whose beauty made them the stars of the evening. Every glass, double and single barrelled, was levelled at them from boxes and pit, with the coolest impertinence. None present knew aught of them; save that they belonged to a Calabrese family of distinction, which had retired to Palermo on the advance of Joseph’s army to Naples. The youngest (whom I had now the happiness of recognising) seemed to me the most attractive; although, perhaps, less stately and dashing than her sisters Ortensia and Francesca: and truly she was one of those enchanting beings whom a man meets but once in a life-time; or at least imagines so. I was in the next box to them, with some of Sir John’s gay staff, when, inspired with admiration of their beauty, the whole house rose, _en masse_, on their retiring. I followed the three beauties to the portico, out of mere curiosity, to see what sort of a "turn out" they had, and endeavour to discover who they were. A handsome carriage, adorned with a coronet, stood at the steps to receive them. By the mismanagement of the driver and chasseur, it had run foul of the equipage of Castel Guelfo, the Calabrian Baron before mentioned; a volley of abuse was exchanged by the servants, who soon came to blows: knives were drawn, and the chasseur of each carriage unsheathed his hanger. With a lack of gallantry not usual on the continent, the proprietor of the other vehicle, a sour-visaged, withered little mortal, would not yield an inch. Terrified by the uproar, the kicking and plunging of horses, the swearing of servants and the clamour of a gathering mob, the timid Italian girls stood trembling and irresolute on the steps of the illuminated portico. I advanced to make an offer of my services as an escort. They surveyed me for a moment, while their large dark eyes dilated with pleasure and thankfulness. I was a stranger, it was true; but my staff uniform and commission were sufficient introduction: the moment was critical, and my services were at once accepted. I commanded the baron to wheel back his calesso; and did so with an air of determination and authority. "Superba!" cried the little man, ironically; "who the devil are you?" "That you will discover in the morning, my lord," I answered, sternly; "but, in the mean time, order your driver to rein back, or I will slash his cattle across the face." "Not the thousandth part of an inch!" exclaimed the little man, from the depths of his carriage. "And hark you, Signor Carozziere, whip up your horses, and hold fast: on your life!" "Monsignore Barone, once more I request—"