The merriment of his auditors, and the shouts of "Bravo, Silvio!" here interrupted the narrator for a moment. "However," he observed, when the laughter ceased, "we can not remain long here in security, for I have no doubt that to-morrow, at latest, you will have the whole pack of foreigners on your track." "Here in this forest," said Orazio, "we could make head against the whole army of the Pope. Were it not that we are so very few in number, and have these precious ladies to protect." "Ehi! ladies to protect, indeed!" said Irene with some irony; "you have soon forgotten, Signor Rodomonte, that these same 'ladies' protected you to-day." A burst of laughter broke from all; and the courageous chief of the forest stooped and kissed the hand of his beloved wife with pretty submission. Meanwhile, the long dark shadows cast by the giants of the Ciminian wood spreading out to the west, announced the setting of the sun, who, wrapped in a glorious and variegated mantle of clouds, was about to hide himself behind the waves of the Tyrrhenian sea. Clelia, perceiving this, addressed Jack, who, fascinated by her beauty and amiability, was her devoted slave, and to whom she had confided the important care of the viands. "Well, my friend," she said in English, "all these true heroes of romance, it appears, do not trouble themselves about supper; and if you do not see to it, I fear we shall have to go to bed without food to-night." "Aye, aye, ma'am!" was Jack's reply; and, with the invariable hitch to his waistband, he steered for the spot where the assistants had unloaded two mules, which carried the chief's baggage as well as the provisions. But, after such fighting and talk, they must feast at leisure in a fresh chapter. CHAPTER XLVI. THE RURAL SUPPER Who does not prefer civilization to barbarism and the usages of savage life? Who would not choose the comforts of a refined home, cool in summer, warm in winter, well supplied with food, and replete with every comfort and even luxury, to the open country, with its inclemency, inconveniences, and vicissitudes of weather? Yet when one remembers that the few monopolize the advantages of civilization, and that its victims are so many, one can not help doubting whether the world of humanity does reap much benefit from the present highly-developed state of civilization, and whether it might not be desirable to go back to the simple condition of the first inhabitants of the world, amongst whom, if there were no palaces, no cooks, no fine manners, no expensive clothes, no elaborate conventions, no luxuries in the way of food, neither were there any priests, police, prefects, tax-gatherers, or any other of our galling modern innovations; neither was one called upon to give up one's children to serve the caprices of a despot, under the pretense of serving the country and washing out "stains from flags."