The idea of passing another night in the woods was extremely
disheartening; for I began to be satisfied with what I had seen
of robber life. The chieftain now ordered his men to follow him,
that he might station them at their posts, adding, that if the
messenger did not return before night they must shift their
quarters to some other place.
I was again left alone with the young bandit who had before
guarded me: he had the same gloomy air and haggard eye, with now
and then a bitter sardonic smile. I was determined to probe this
ulcerated heart, and reminded him of a kind of promise he had
given me to tell me the cause of his suffering.
It seemed to me as if these troubled spirits were glad of an
opportunity to disburthen themselves; and of having some fresh
undiseased mind with which they could communicate. I had hardly
made the request but he seated himself by my side, and gave me
his story in, as nearly as I can recollect, the following words.
THE STORY OF THE YOUNG ROBBER
I was born at the little town of Frosinone, which lies at the
skirts of the Abruzzi. My father had made a little property in
trade, and gave me some education, as he intended me for the
church, but I had kept gay company too much to relish the cowl,
so I grew up a loiterer about the place. I was a heedless fellow,
a little quarrelsome on occasions, but good-humored in the main,
so I made my way very well for a time, until I fell in love.
There lived in our town a surveyor, or land bailiff, of the
prince’s who had a young daughter, a beautiful girl of sixteen.
She was looked upon as something better than the common run of
our townsfolk, and kept almost entirely at home. I saw her
occasionally, and became madly in love with her, she looked so
fresh and tender, and so different to the sunburnt females to
whom I had been accustomed.
As my father kept me in money, I always dressed well, and took
all Opportunities of showing myself to advantage in the eyes of
the little beauty. I used to see her at church; and as I could
play a little upon the guitar, I gave her a tune sometimes under
her window of an evening; and I tried to have interviews with her
in her father’s vineyard, not far from the town, where she
sometimes walked. She was evidently pleased with me, but she was
young and shy, and her Father kept a strict eye upon her, and
took alarm at my attentions, for he had a bad opinion of me, and
looked for a better match for his daughter. I became furious at
the difficulties thrown in my way, having been accustomed always
to easy success among the women, being considered one of the
smartest young fellows of the place.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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