He had taken a maggot into his brain at one time to hunt after
the Ancient cities of the Pelasgi which are said to exist to this
day among the mountains of the Abruzzi; but the condition of
which is strangely unknown to the antiquaries. It is said that he
had made a great many valuable notes and memorandums on the
subject, which he always carried about with him, either for the
purpose of frequent reference, or because he feared the precious
documents might fall into the hands of brother antiquaries. He
had therefore a large pocket behind, in which he carried them,
banging against his rear as he walked.
Be this as it may; happening to pass a few days at Terracina, in
the course of his researches, he one day mounted the rocky cliffs
which overhang the town, to visit the castle of Theodoric. He was
groping about these ruins, towards the hour of sunset, buried in
his reflections,—his wits no doubt wool-gathering among the Goths
and Romans, when he heard footsteps behind him.
He turned and beheld five or six young fellows, of rough, saucy
demeanor, clad in a singular manner, half peasant, half huntsman,
with fusils in their hands. Their whole appearance and carriage
left him in no doubt into what company he had fallen.
The doctor was a feeble little man poor, in look and poorer in
purse. He had but little money in his pocket; but he had certain
valuables, such as an old silver watch, thick as a turnip, with
figures on it large enough for a clock, and a set of seals at the
end of a steel chain, that dangled half down to his knees; all
which were of precious esteem, being family reliques. He had also
a seal ring, a veritable antique intaglio, that covered half his
knuckles; but what he most valued was, the precious treatise on
the Pelasgian cities, which, he would gladly have given all the
money in his pocket to have had safe at the bottom of his trunk
in Terracina.
However, he plucked up a stout heart; at least as stout a heart
as he could, seeing that he was but a puny little man at the hest
of times. So he wished the hunters a “buon giorno.” They returned
his salutation, giving the old gentleman a sociable slap on the
back that made his heart leap into his throat.
They fell into conversation, and walked for some time together
among The heights, the doctor wishing them all the while at the
bottom of the crater of Vesuvius. At length they came to a small
osteria on the mountain, where they proposed to enter and have a
cup of wine together. The doctor consented; though he would as
soon have been invited to drink hemlock.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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