One morning, Francisco was sent to finish a sketch of the front of an ancient temple, amongst the ruins of Herculaneum. He had just reached the pit, and the men were about to let him down with cords, in the usual manner, when his attention was caught by the shrill sound of a scolding woman's voice. He looked, and saw at some paces distant this female fury, who stood guarding the windla.s.s of a well, to which, with threatening gestures and most voluble menaces, she forbade all access.

The peasants--men, women, and children, who had come with their pitchers to draw water at this well--were held at bay by the enraged female. Not one dared to be the first to advance; whilst she grasped with one hand the handle of the windla.s.s, and, with the other tanned muscular arm extended, governed the populace, bidding them remember that she was padrona, or mistress of the well. They retired, in hopes of finding a more gentle padrona at some other well in the neighbourhood; and the fury, when they were out of sight, divided the long black hair which hung over her face, and, turning to one of the spectators, appealed to them in a sober voice, and asked if she was not right in what she had done. 'I, that am padrona of the well,' said she, addressing herself to Francisco, who, with great attention, was contemplating her with the eye of a painter--'I, that am padrona of the well, must in times of scarcity do strict justice, and preserve for ourselves alone the water of our well. There is scarcely enough even for ourselves. I have been obliged to make my husband lengthen the ropes every day for this week past. If things go on at this rate, there will soon be not one drop of water left in my well.'

'Nor in any of the wells of the neighbourhood,' added one of the workmen, who was standing by; and he mentioned several in which the water had lately suddenly decreased; and a miller affirmed that his mill had stopped for want of water.

Francisco was struck by these remarks. They brought to his recollection similar facts, which he had often heard his father mention in his childhood, as having been observed previous to the last eruption of Mount Vesuvius.[36] He had also heard from his father, in his childhood, that it is better to trust to prudence than to fortune; and therefore, though the peasants and workmen, to whom he mentioned his fears, laughed, and said, 'That as the burning mountain had been favourable to them for so many years, they would trust to it and St. Januarius one day longer,' yet Francisco immediately gave up all thoughts of spending this day amidst the ruins of Herculaneum. After having inquired sufficiently, after having seen several wells, in which the water had evidently decreased, and after having seen the mill-wheels that were standing still for want of their usual supply, he hastened home to his father and mother, reported what he had heard and seen, and begged of them to remove, and to take what things of value they could to some distance from the dangerous spot where they now resided.

[36] _Phil. Trans._ vol. ix.

Some of the inhabitants of Resina, whom he questioned, declared that they had heard strange rumbling noises underground; and a peasant and his son, who had been at work the preceding day in a vineyard, a little above the village, related that they had seen a sudden puff of smoke come out of the earth, close to them; and that they had, at the same time, heard a noise like the going off of a pistol.[37]

[37] These facts are mentioned in Sir William Hamilton's account of an eruption of Mount Vesuvius.--See _Phil. Trans._ 1795, first part.

The villagers listened with large eyes and open ears to these relations; yet such was their habitual attachment to the spot they lived upon, or such the security in their own good fortune, that few of them would believe that there could be any necessity for removing. 'We'll see what will happen to-morrow; we shall be safe here one day longer,' said they.

Francisco's father and mother, more prudent than the generality of their neighbours, went to the house of a relation, at some miles' distance from Vesuvius, and carried with them all their effects.

In the meantime, Francisco went to the villa where his English friends resided. The villa was in a most dangerous situation, near Torre del Greco--a town that stands at the foot of Mount Vesuvius. He related all the facts that he had heard to Arthur, who, not having been, like the inhabitants of Resina, familiarised to the idea of living in the vicinity of a burning mountain and habituated to trust in St. Januarius, was sufficiently alarmed by Francisco's representations. He ran to his master's apartment, and communicated all that he had just heard. The Count de Flora and his lady, who were at this time in the house, ridiculed the fears of Arthur, and could not be prevailed upon to remove even as far as Naples. The lady was intent upon preparations for her birthday, which was to be celebrated in a few days with great magnificence at their villa; and she observed that it would be a pity to return to town before that day, and they had everything arranged for the festival. The prudent Englishman had not the gallantry to appear to be convinced by these arguments, and he left the place of danger. He left it not too soon, for the next morning exhibited a scene--a scene which we shall not attempt to describe.

We refer our young readers to the account of this dreadful eruption of Mount Vesuvius, published by Sir W. Hamilton in the _Philosophical Transactions_. It is sufficient here to say that, in the s.p.a.ce of about five hours, the wretched inhabitants of Torre del Greco saw their town utterly destroyed by the streams of burning lava which poured from the mountain. The villa of Count de Flora, with some others, which were at a little distance from the town, escaped; but they were absolutely surrounded by the lava. The count and countess were obliged to fly from their house with the utmost precipitation in the night-time; and they had not time to remove any of their furniture, their plate, clothes, or jewels.

A few days after the eruption, the surface of the lava became so cool that people could walk upon it, though several feet beneath the surface it was still exceedingly hot. Numbers of those who had been forced from their houses now returned to the ruins to try to save whatever they could. But these unfortunate persons frequently found their houses had been pillaged by robbers, who, in these moments of general confusion, enrich themselves with the spoils of their fellow-creatures.

'Has the count abandoned his villa? and is there no one to take care of his plate and furniture? The house will certainly be ransacked before morning,' said the old carpenter to Francisco, who was at his house giving him an account of their flight. Francisco immediately went to the count's house in Naples, to warn him of his danger. The first person he saw was Arthur, who, with a face of terror, said to him, 'Do you know what has happened? It is all over with Resina!' 'All over with Resina!

What, has there been a fresh eruption? Has the lava reached Resina?'

'No; but it will inevitably be blown up. There,' said Arthur, pointing to a thin figure of an Italian, who stood pale and trembling, and looking up to heaven as he crossed himself repeatedly--'There,' said Arthur, 'is a man who has left a parcel of his cursed rockets and fireworks, with I don't know how much gunpowder, in the count's house, from which we have just fled. The wind blows that way. One spark of fire, and the whole is blown up.'

Francisco waited not to hear more; but instantly, without explaining his intentions to any one, set out for the count's villa, and, with a bucket of water in his hand, crossed the beds of lava with which the house was encompa.s.sed; when, reaching the hall where the rockets and gunpowder were left, he plunged them into the water, and returned with them in safety over the lava, yet warm under his feet.

What was the surprise and joy of the poor firework-maker when he saw Francisco return from this dangerous expedition! He could scarcely believe his eyes, when he saw the rockets and the gunpowder all safe.

The count, who had given up the hopes of saving his palace, was in admiration when he heard of this instance of intrepidity, which probably saved not only his villa, but the whole village of Resina, from destruction. These fireworks had been prepared for the celebration of the countess's birthday, and were forgotten in the hurry of the night on which the inhabitants fled from Torre del Greco.

[Ill.u.s.tration: _Returned in safety over the lava, yet warm under his feet._]

'Brave young man!' said the count to Francisco, 'I thank you, and shall not limit my grat.i.tude to thanks. You tell me that there is danger of my villa being pillaged by robbers. It is from this moment your interest as well as mine to prevent their depredations; for (trust to my liberality) a portion of all that is saved of mine shall be yours.'

'Bravo! bravissimo!' exclaimed one who started from a recessed window in the hall where all this pa.s.sed. 'Bravo! bravissimo!' Francisco thought he knew the voice and the countenance of this man, who exclaimed with so much enthusiasm. He remembered to have seen him before, but when, or where, he could not recollect. As soon as the count left the hall, the stranger came up to Francisco. 'Is it possible,' said he, 'that you don't know me? It is scarcely a twelvemonth since I drew tears from your eyes.' 'Tears from my eyes?' repeated Francisco, smiling; 'I have shed but few tears. I have had but few misfortunes in my life.' The stranger answered him by two extempore Italian lines, which conveyed nearly the same idea that has been so well expressed by an English poet:--

To each their sufferings--all are men Condemn'd alike to groan; The feeling for another's woes, Th' unfeeling for his own.

'I know you now perfectly well,' cried Francisco; 'you are the Improvisatore who, one fine moonlight night last summer, told us the story of Cornaro the Turk.'

'The same,' said the Improvisatore; 'the same, though in a better dress, which I should not have thought would have made so much difference in your eyes, though it makes all the difference between man and man in the eyes of the stupid vulgar. My genius has broken through the clouds of misfortune of late. A few happy impromptu verses I made on the Count de Flora's fall from his horse attracted attention. The count patronises me. I am here now to learn the fate of an ode I have just composed for his lady's birthday. My ode was to have been set to music, and to have been performed at his villa near Torre del Greco, if these troubles had not intervened. Now that the mountain is quiet again, people will return to their senses. I expect to be munificently rewarded. But perhaps I detain you. Go; I shall not forget to celebrate the heroic action you have performed this day. I still amuse myself amongst the populace in my tattered garb late in the evenings, and I shall sound your praises through Naples in a poem I mean to recite on the late eruption of Mount Vesuvius. Adieu.'

The Improvisatore was as good as his word. That evening, with more than his usual enthusiasm, he recited his verses to a great crowd of people in one of the public squares. Amongst the crowd were several to whom the name of Francisco was well known, and by whom he was well beloved. These were his young companions, who remembered him as a fruit-seller amongst the little merchants. They rejoiced to hear his praises, and repeated the lines with shouts of applause.

'Let us pa.s.s. What is all this disturbance in the streets?' said a man, pushing his way through the crowd. A lad who held by his arm stopped suddenly on hearing the name of Francisco, which the people were repeating with so much enthusiasm.

'Ha! I have found at last a story that interests you more than that of Cornaro the Turk,' cried the Improvisatore, looking in the face of the youth who had stopped so suddenly. 'You are the young man who, last summer, had liked to have tricked me out of my new hat. Promise me you won't touch it now,' said he, throwing down the hat at his feet, 'or you hear not one word I have to say. Not one word of the heroic action performed at the villa of the Count de Flora, near Torre del Greco, this morning, by Signor Francisco.'

'_Signor_ Francisco!' repeated the lad with disdain. 'Well, let us hear what you have to tell of him,' added he. 'Your hat is very safe, I promise you; I shall not touch it. What of _Signor_ Francisco?'

'_Signor_ Francisco I may, without impropriety, call him,' said the Improvisatore, 'for he is likely to become rich enough to command the t.i.tle from those who might not otherwise respect his merit.'

'Likely to become rich! how?' said the lad, whom our readers have probably before this time discovered to be Piedro. 'How, pray, is he likely to become rich enough to be a signor?'

'The Count de Flora has promised him a liberal portion of all the fine furniture, plate, and jewels that can be saved from his villa at Torre del Greco. Francisco is gone down hither now with some of the count's domestics to protect the valuable goods against those villainous plunderers, who robbed their fellow-creatures of what even the flames of Vesuvius would spare.'

'Come, we have had enough of this stuff,' cried the man whose arm Piedro held. 'Come away,' and he hurried forwards.

This man was one of the villains against whom the honest orator expressed such indignation. He was one of those with whom Piedro got acquainted during the time that he was living extravagantly upon the money he gained by the sale of the stolen diamond cross. That robbery was not discovered; and his _success_, as he called it, hardened him in guilt. He was both unwilling and unable to withdraw himself from the bad company with whom his ill-gotten wealth connected him. He did not consider that bad company leads to the gallows.[38]

[38] La mala compagnia e quella che mena uomini a la forca.

The universal confusion which followed the eruption of Mount Vesuvius was to these villains a time of rejoicing. No sooner did Piedro's companion hear of the rich furniture, plate, etc., which the imprudent orator had described as belonging to the Count de Flora's villa, than he longed to make himself master of the whole.

'It is a pity,' said Piedro, 'that the count has sent Francisco with his servants down to guard it.' 'And who is this Francisco of whom you seem to stand in so much awe?' 'A boy, a young lad only, of about my own age; but I know him to be st.u.r.dily honest. The servants we might corrupt; but even the old proverb of "Angle with a silver hook,"[39] won't hold good with him.'

[39] Pescar col hamo d' argento.

'And if he cannot be won by fair means, he must be conquered by foul,'

said the desperate villain; 'but if we offer him rather more than the count has already promised for his share of the booty, of course he will consult at once his safety and his interest.'

'No,' said Piedro; 'that is not his nature. I know him from a child, and we'd better think of some other house for to-night's business.'

'None other; none but this,' cried his companion, with an oath. 'My mind is determined upon this, and you must obey your leader: recollect the fate of him who failed me yesterday.'

The person to whom he alluded was one of the gang of robbers who had been a.s.sa.s.sinated by his companions for hesitating to commit some crime suggested by their leader. No tyranny is so dreadful as that which is exercised by villains over their young accomplices, who become their slaves. Piedro, who was of a cowardly nature, trembled at the threatening countenance of his captain, and promised submission.

In the course of the morning, inquiries were made secretly amongst the count's servants; and the two men who were engaged to sit up at the villa that night along with Francisco were bribed to second the views of this gang of thieves. It was agreed that about midnight the robbers should be let into the house; that Francisco should be tied hand and foot, whilst they carried off their booty. 'He is a stubborn chap, though so young, I understand,' said the captain of the robbers to his men; 'but we carry poniards, and know how to use them. Piedro, you look pale. You don't require to be reminded of what I said to you when we were alone just now?'

Piedro's voice failed, and some of his comrades observed that he was young and new to the business. The captain, who, from being his pretended friend during his wealthy days, had of late become his tyrant, cast a stern look at Piedro, and bid him be sure to be at the old Jew's, which was the place of meeting, in the dusk of the evening. After saying this he departed.

Piedro, when he was alone, tried to collect his thoughts--all his thoughts were full of horror. 'Where am I?' said he to himself; 'what am I about? Did I understand rightly what he said about poniards?

Francisco; oh, Francisco! Excellent, kind, generous Francisco! Yes, I recollect your look when you held the bunch of grapes to my lips, as I sat by the sea-sh.o.r.e deserted by all the world; and now, what friends have I? Robbers and----' The word _murderers_ he could not utter. He again recollected what had been said about poniards, and the longer his mind fixed upon the words, and the look that accompanied them, the more he was shocked. He could not doubt that it was the serious intention of his accomplices to murder Francisco, if he should make any resistance.

Piedro had at this moment no friend in the world to whom he could apply for advice or a.s.sistance. His wretched father died some weeks before this time, in a fit of intoxication. Piedro walked up and down the street, scarcely capable of thinking, much less of coming to any rational resolution.

The hours pa.s.sed away, the shadows of the houses lengthened under his footsteps, the evening came on, and when it grew dusk, after hesitating in great agony of mind for some time, his fear of the robbers' vengeance prevailed over every other feeling, and he went at the appointed hour to the place of meeting.

The place of meeting was at the house of that Jew to whom he, several months before, sold the diamond cross. That cross which he thought himself so lucky to have stolen, and to have disposed of undetected, was, in fact, the cause of his being in his present dreadful situation.

It was at the Jew's that he connected himself with this gang of robbers, to whom he was now become an absolute slave.

'Oh that I dared to disobey!' said he to himself, with a deep sigh, as he knocked softly at the back door of the Jew's house. The back door opened into a narrow, unfrequented street, and some small rooms at this side of the house were set apart for the reception of guests who desired to have their business kept secret. These rooms were separated by a dark pa.s.sage from the rest of the house, and numbers of people came to the shop in the front of the house, which looked into a creditable street, without knowing anything more, from the ostensible appearance of the shop, than that it was a kind of p.a.w.nbroker's, where old clothes, old iron, and all sorts of refuse goods might be disposed of conveniently.

At the moment Piedro knocked at the back door, the front shop was full of customers; and the Jew's boy, whose office it was to attend to these signals, let Piedro in, told him that none of his comrades were yet come, and left him in a room by himself.

He was pale and trembling, and felt a cold dew spread over him. He had a leaden image of Saint Januarius tied round his neck, which, in the midst of his wickedness, he superst.i.tiously preserved as a sort of charm, and on this he kept his eyes stupidly fixed, as he sat alone in this gloomy place.