“Yet will I bear it—I will submit to my destiny. I will traverse every path and go through every degree of human wretchedness; and whate’er may be my fate, I will still be myself; and whate’er may be my fate, I will still act greatly! Away, then, with the Count Rosalvo, whom all Naples idolised; now—now, I am the beggar Abellino. A beggar—that name stands last in the scale of worldly rank, but first in the list of the famishing, the outcast, and the unworthy.”
Something rustled near him. Abellino gazed around. He was aware of the bravo, whom he struck to the ground that night, and whom two companions of a similar stamp had now joined. As they advanced, they cast inquiring glances around them. They were in search of some one.
“It is of me that they are in search,” said Abellino; then advanced a few steps, and whistled.
The ruffians stood still; they whispered together, and seemed to be undecided.
“’Tis he,” he could hear one of them say distinctly, and in a moment after they advanced slowly towards him.
Abellino kept his place, but unsheathed his sword. The three unknown (they were masked) stopped a few paces from him.
“How now, fellow!” quoth one of them; “what is the matter? Why stand you on your guard?”
_Abellino_.—It is as well that you should be made to keep your distance, for I know you; you are certain honest gentlemen, who live by taking away the lives of others.
_The First Ruffian_.—Was not your whistling addressed to us?
_Abellino_.—Hear me! I am a miserable wretch, and starving; give me an alms out of your booty!
_A Ruffian_.—An alms? Ha! ha! ha! By my soul that is whimsical!—Alms from us, indeed!—Oh, by all means! No doubt, you shall have alms in plenty.
_Abellino_.—Or else give me fifty sequins, and I’ll bind myself to your service till I shall have worked out my debt.
_A Ruffian_.—Aye? and pray, then, who may you be?
_Abellino_.—A starving wretch, the Republic holds none more miserable. Such am I at present; but hereafter—I have powers, knaves. This arm could pierce a heart, though guarded by three breastplates; this eye, though surrounded by Egyptian darkness, could still see to stab sure.
_A Ruffian_.—Why, then, did you strike me down, even now?
_Abellino_.—In the hope of being paid for it; but though I saved his life, the scoundrel gave me not a single ducat.