One of the gang remained sentinel at the door; the others swaggered into the house; stood their fusils in a corner of the room; and each drawing a pistol or stiletto out of his belt, laid it, with some emphasis, on the table.  They now called lustily for wine; drew benches round the table, and hailing the doctor as though he had been a boon companion of long standing, insisted upon his sitting down and making merry.  He complied with forced grimace, but with fear and trembling; sitting on the edge of his bench; supping down heartburn with every drop of liquor; eyeing ruefully the black muzzled pistols, and cold, naked stilettos.  They pushed the bottle bravely, and plied him vigorously; sang, laughed, told excellent stories of robberies and combats, and the little doctor was fain to laugh at these cut-throat pleasantries, though his heart was dying away at the very bottom of his bosom.

By their own account they were young men from the villages, who had Recently taken up this line of life in the mere wild caprice of youth.  They talked of their exploits as a sportsman talks of his amusements.  To shoot down a traveller seemed of little more consequence to them than to shoot a hare.  They spoke with rapture of the glorious roving life they led; free as birds; here to-day, gone to-morrow; ranging the forests, climbing the rocks, scouring the valleys; the world their own wherever they could lay hold of it; full purses, merry companions; pretty women.—­The little antiquary got fuddled with their talk and their wine, for they did not spare bumpers.  He half forgot his fears, his seal ring, and his family watch; even the treatise on the Pelasgian cities which was warming under him, for a time faded from his memory, in the glowing picture which they drew.  He declares that he no longer wonders at the prevalence of this robber mania among the mountains; for he felt at the time, that had he been a young man and a strong man, and had there been no danger of the galleys in the background, he should have been half tempted himself to turn bandit.

At length the fearful hour of separating arrived.  The doctor was suddenly called to himself and his fears, by seeing the robbers resume their weapons.  He now quaked for his valuables, and above all for his antiquarian treatise.  He endeavored, however, to look cool and unconcerned; and drew from out of his deep pocket a long, lank, leathern purse, far gone in consumption, at the bottom of which a few coin chinked with the trembling of his hand.

The chief of the party observed this movement; and laying his hand upon the antiquary’s shoulder—­“Harkee!  Signor Dottore!” said he, “we have drank together as friends and comrades, let us part as such.  We understand you; we know who and what you are; for we know who every body is that sleeps at Terracina, or that puts foot upon the road.  You are a rich man, but you carry all your wealth in your head.  We can’t get at it, and we should not know what to do with it, if we could.  I see you are uneasy about your ring; but don’t worry your mind; it is not worth taking; you think it an antique, but it’s a counterfeit—­a mere sham.”