I tried to calm him, but he forced a pistol into my hand.  “She loves you,” he whispered; “and you, in your vanity, will parade it before all the Roman people—­before me!” He threw himself upon me.  I thrust him back.  I heard a report; my hand trembled.  Bernardo lay before me in his blood.  The people of the house rushed in, and with them Annunciata.  I wanted to fling myself, in despair, upon Bernardo’s body; but Annunciata lay on her knees beside him, trying to staunch the blood.  “Save yourself!” she cried.  But I, overcome by anguish, exclaimed:  “I am innocent; the pistol went off by accident.  Yes, Annunciata, we loved you.  I would die for you, like he!  Which of us was the dearer to you?  Tell me whether you love me, and then I will escape.”  She bowed her head down to the dead.  I heard her weeping, and saw her press her lips to Bernardo’s brow.  Then I heard voices shout “Fly, fly!” and, as by invisible hands, I was torn out of the house.

Like a madman I rushed through bushes and underwood until I reached the Tiber.  Among the ruins of a tomb I came across three men sitting around a fire, to whom I explained that I wanted a boat to cross the river.  They agreed to take me across; but I had better give them my money to keep for safety.  I realised that I had fallen into the hands of robbers, gave them all I had, was tied on to a horse, and taken across the river, riding all night, until at dawn we reached a wild part of the mountains.  They wanted to keep me for ransom, and dispatched one of their number to Rome to find out all he could about me.  The man returned; and with a thankful heart I heard that Bernardo was only wounded and on the way to recovery.

My rough hosts having found out my gift, I was asked to sing to them; and once more my power of improvisation stood me in good stead.  When I had finished, a wrinkled old woman, who seemed to be held in great reverence by the robbers, came towards me.  “Thou hast sung thy ransom!” she exclaimed.  “The sound of music is stronger than gold!” Yet I was detained six days, during which there were mysterious comings and goings.  The old witch herself, who had made me write on a piece of paper the words “I travel to Naples” and my name, disappeared for a day, and came back with a letter, which she commanded me not to read then.  Finally, in the midst of night, she led me out of the robbers’ den and took me across a rocky path to a dumb peasant with an ass, which I was made to mount.  She kissed my forehead and departed.  When daylight broke I opened the letter, which contained a passport in my name, an order for five hundred scudi on a Naples bank, and the words “Bernardo is out of danger, but do not return to Rome for some months.”