A sad ransacking took place.  Trunks were turned inside out, and all the finery and the frippery of the Popkins family scattered about the road.  Such a chaos of Venice beads and Roman mosaics; and Paris bonnets of the young ladies, mingled with the alderman’s night-caps and lamb’s wool stockings, and the dandy’s hair-brushes, stays, and starched cravats.

The gentlemen were eased of their purses and their watches; the ladies of their jewels, and the whole party were on the point of being carried up into the mountain, when fortunately the appearance of soldiery at a distance obliged the robbers to make off with the spoils they had secured, and leave the Popkins family to gather together the remnants of their effects, and make the best of their way to Fondi.

When safe arrived, the alderman made a terrible blustering at the inn; threatened to complain to the ambassador at Naples, and was ready to shake his cane at the whole country.  The dandy had many stories to tell of his scuffles with the brigands, who overpowered him merely by numbers.  As to the Misses Popkins, they were quite delighted with the adventure, and were occupied the whole evening in writing it in their journals.  They declared the captain of the band to be a most romantic-looking man; they dared to say some unfortunate lover, or exiled nobleman:  and several of the band to be very handsome young men—­“quite picturesque!”

“In verity,” said mine host of Terracina, “they say the captain of the band is un galant uomo.”

“A gallant man!” said the Englishman.  “I’d have your gallant man hang’d like a dog!”

“To dare to meddle with Englishmen!” said Mr. Hobbs.

“And such a family as the Popkinses!” said Mr. Dobbs.

“They ought to come upon the country for damages!” said Mr. Hobbs.

“Our ambassador should make a complaint to the government of Naples,” said Mr. Dobbs.

“They should be requested to drive these rascals out of the country,” said Hobbs.

“If they did not, we should declare war against them!” said Dobbs.

The Englishman was a little wearied by this story, and by the ultra zeal of his countrymen, and was glad when a summons to their supper relieved him from a crowd of travellers.  He walked out with his Venetian friends and a young Frenchman of an interesting demeanor, who had become sociable with them in the course of the conversation.  They directed their steps toward the sea, which was lit up by the rising moon.  The Venetian, out of politeness, left his beautiful wife to be escorted by the Englishman.  The latter, however, either from shyness or reserve, did not avail himself of the civility, but walked on without offering his arm.  The fair Venetian, with all her devotion to her husband, was a little nettled at a want of gallantry to which her charms had rendered her unaccustomed, and took the proffered arm of the Frenchman with a pretty air of pique, which, however, was entirely lost upon the phlegmatic delinquent.