The arrival of the procaccio had indeed filled the house with stories as it had with guests.  The Englishman and his companions walked out after supper into the great hall, or common room of the inn, which runs through the centre building; a gloomy, dirty-looking apartment, with tables placed in various parts of it, at which some of the travellers were seated in groups, while others strolled about in famished impatience for their evening’s meal.  As the procaccio was a kind of caravan of travellers, there were people of every class and country, who had come in all kinds of vehicles; and though they kept in some measure in separate parties, yet the being united under one common escort had jumbled them into companionship on the road.  Their formidable number and the formidable guard that accompanied them, had prevented any molestation from the banditti; but every carriage had its tale of wonder, and one vied with another in the recital.  Not one but had seen groups of robbers peering over the rocks; or their guns peeping out from among the bushes, or had been reconnoitred by some suspicious-looking fellow with scowling eye, who disappeared on seeing the guard.

The fair Venetian listened to all these stories with that eager curiosity with which we seek to pamper any feeling of alarm.  Even the Englishman began to feel interested in the subject, and desirous of gaining more correct information than these mere flying reports.

He mingled in one of the groups which appeared to be the most respectable, and which was assembled round a tall, thin person, with long Roman nose, a high forehead, and lively prominent eye, beaming from under a green velvet travelling-cap with gold tassel.  He was holding forth with all the fluency of a man who talks well and likes to exert his talent.  He was of Rome; a surgeon by profession, a poet by choice, and one who was something of an improvvisatore.  He soon gave the Englishman abundance of information respecting the banditti.

“The fact is,” said he, “that many of the people in the villages among the mountains are robbers, or rather the robbers find perfect asylum among them.  They range over a vast extent of wild impracticable country, along the chain of Apennines, bordering on different states; they know all the difficult passes, the short cuts and strong-holds.  They are secure of the good-will of the poor and peaceful inhabitants of those regions, whom they never disturb, and whom they often enrich.  Indeed, they are looked upon as a sort of illegitimate heroes among the mountain villages, and some of the frontier towns, where they dispose of their plunder.  From these mountains they keep a look-out upon the plains and valleys, and meditate their descents.”

“The road to Fondi, which you are about to travel, is one of the places most noted for their exploits.  It is overlooked from some distance by little hamlets, perched upon heights.  From hence, the brigands, like hawks in their nests, keep on the watch for such travellers as are likely to afford either booty or ransom.  The windings of the road enable them to see carriages long before they pass, so that they have time to get to some advantageous lurking-place from whence to pounce upon their prey.”