"But I cannot comprehend the nature of these unpolished Calabrians," replied this heedless harum-scarum gallant, into whose empty head the wine was rapidly mounting. "Per Baccho! they are mere savages—hottentots! Will you believe it? if I venture to pay a compliment to the mistress of my billet, or to kiss her daughter (which I am often disposed to do, the said daughter being rather fresh and pretty), the Maestro di Casa jerks up his Messina sash, twirls his whiskers, and plays so ominously with the haft of his knife, that I am compelled to keep my gallantry within very narrow bounds. I must even refrain from those little acts of cavalier-like politeness, by which some obliging citizens of Naples would consider themselves duly honoured: more especially if it were a noble gentiluomo of the Queen’s Guard that deigned to salute one of his family. O! for joyous Venice, and its money-making mothers, who for sixty sequins—" "Basta!" interrupted Marco, "you let every one hear you, Valerio, by speaking in such a key. By St. Antony—!" "Hush Marco, ’t is quite unfashionable to swear by these old saints: the newest canonizations are always most in vogue. St. Antony, indeed! The ancient fool; I would rather swear by his gridiron, which the monks show at Rimini. But to resume. Here, in this cursed province, if one but looks at a woman, cold iron is thought of instantly, and one may be dead as Brutus in less time than one can utter a credo.—What the deuce can delay my rogue of a groom?" "You labour under so many annoyances, that I am astonished you have survived them," observed the young provincial contemptuously. "By the jovial San Cupido! you know not half of them. As my soldiers are apt to imitate their accomplished commander in many things, the king’s service has lost several smart fellows in these domestic brawls. But courage, Valerio! It is quite a godsend, this sudden death of that bear, old Belcastro; and as the charming Despina is so near I shall hope to pay her many a visit of condolence. Nay, frown not, Marco, my love for her is of the most pure and Platonic description. Besides, I have sent a most heart-rending memorial to the queen, and it is so well seconded and flanked by the Duchessa di Bagnara, and other fair ladies who are impatient for my return, that I have no doubt my party will soon be ordered to rejoin at Palermo, without my troubling our gruff commander-in-chief, Giambattista Fardella. Then adieu to Catanzaro, its wickedness, and its women." "And Signora Teresa with the rest?" asked the Calabrian, with a low voice and a flushing cheek. "Ha! know you Teresa Navona?" asked the captain, scanning the fine features of the youth with a keen glance. "Do you belong to Catanzaro?’ "Yes, signor,—no. That is, not now," stammered the boy, with angry confusion. "But I once resided here, and have only just returned after a long absence. You know Teresa?"