The chief of the party observed this movement; and laying his hand upon the antiquary’s shoulder—“Harkee! Signor Dottore!” said he, “we have drank together as friends and comrades, let us part as such. We understand you; we know who and what you are; for we know who every body is that sleeps at Terracina, or that puts foot upon the road. You are a rich man, but you carry all your wealth in your head. We can’t get at it, and we should not know what to do with it, if we could. I see you are uneasy about your ring; but don’t worry your mind; it is not worth taking; you think it an antique, but it’s a counterfeit—a mere sham.” Here the doctor would have put in a word, for his antiquarian pride was touched. “Nay, nay,” continued the other, “we’ve no time to dispute about it. Value it as you please. Come, you are a brave little old signor—one more cup of wine and we’ll pay the reckoning. No compliments—I insist on it. So—now make the best of your way back to Terracina; it’s growing late—buono viaggio!—and harkee, take care how you wander among these mountains.” They shouldered their fusils, sprang gaily up the rocks, and the little doctor hobbled back to Terracina, rejoicing that the robbers had let his seal ring, his watch, and his treatise escape unmolested, though rather nettled that they should have pronounced his veritable intaglio a counterfeit. The improvvisatore had shown many symptoms of impatience during this recital. He saw his theme in danger of being taken out of his hands by a rival story-teller, which to an able talker is always a serious grievance; it was also in danger of being taken away by a Neapolitan, and that was still more vexatious; as the members of the different Italian states have an incessant jealousy of each other in all things, great and small. He took advantage of the first pause of the Neapolitan to catch hold again of the thread of the conversation. “As I was saying,” resumed he, “the prevalence of these banditti is so extensive; their power so combined and interwoven with other ranks of society—” “For that matter,” said the Neapolitan, “I have heard that your government has had some understanding with these gentry, or at least winked at them.” “My government?” said the Roman, impatiently. “Aye—they say that Cardinal Gonsalvi—” “Hush!” said the Roman, holding up his finger, and rolling his large eyes about the room.