“Santa Maria!” said she to husband as they retired for the night, “what insensible beings these English are!”

In the morning all was bustle at the inn at Terracina.

The procaccio had departed at day-break, on its route towards Rome, but the Englishman was yet to start, and the departure of an English equipage is always enough to keep an inn in a bustle.  On this occasion there was more than usual stir; for the Englishman having much property about him, and having been convinced of the real danger of the road, had applied to the police and obtained, by dint of liberal pay, an escort of eight dragoons and twelve foot-soldiers, as far as Fondi.

Perhaps, too, there might have been a little ostentation at bottom, from which, with great delicacy be it spoken, English travellers are not always exempt; though to say the truth, he had nothing of it in his manner.  He moved about taciturn and reserved as usual, among the gaping crowd in his gingerbread-colored travelling cap, with his hands in his pockets.  He gave laconic orders to John as he packed away the thousand and one indispensable conveniencies of the night, double loaded his pistols with great sang-froid, and deposited them in the pockets of the carriage, taking no notice of a pair of keen eyes gazing on him from among the herd of loitering idlers.  The fair Venetian now came up with a request made in her dulcet tones, that he would permit their carriage to proceed under protection of his escort.  The Englishman, who was busy loading another pair of pistols for his servant, and held the ramrod between his teeth, nodded assent as a matter of course, but without lifting up his eyes.  The fair Venetian was not accustomed to such indifference.  “O Dio!” ejaculated she softly as she retired, “como sono freddi questi Inglesi.”  At length off they set in gallant style, the eight dragoons prancing in front, the twelve foot-soldiers marching in rear, and carriages moving slowly in the centre to enable the infantry to keep pace with them.  They had proceeded but a few hundred yards when it was discovered that some indispensable article had been left behind.

In fact, the Englishman’s purse was missing, and John was despatched to the inn to search for it.

This occasioned a little delay, and the carriage of the Venetians drove slowly on.  John came back out of breath and out of humor; the purse was not to be found; his master was irritated; he recollected the very place where it lay; the cursed Italian servant had pocketed it.  John was again sent back.  He returned once more, without the purse, but with the landlord and the whole household at his heels.  A thousand ejaculations and protestations, accompanied by all sorts of grimaces and contortions.  “No purse had been seen—­his excellenza must be mistaken.”

No—­his excellenza was not mistaken; the purse lay on the marble table, under the mirror:  a green purse, half full of gold and silver.  Again a thousand grimaces and contortions, and vows by San Genario, that no purse of the kind had been seen.