From this we learn what a corricolo is, but we have not yet been told why M. Dumas should christen his book after the degenerate descendant of the Roman curriculum.  Patience—­we shall get to it in time.  Materials crowd upon our traveller, and it is only in the second chapter that the desired explanation is given.  In the first we are informed of M. Dumas’s installation at the Hotel Vittoria, kept by M. Martin Zill, who, besides being an innkeeper, is a man of much taste in art, a distinguished antiquary, an amateur of pictures, a collector of autographs and curiosities.  Apropos of the hotel we have an anecdote of the ex-dey of Algiers, who, on being dispossessed of his dominions by the French, took refuge at Naples, and established himself under M. Zill’s hospitable roof.  The third floor was entirely occupied by his suite and attendants, the fourth was for himself and his treasures, the fifth, or the garrets, he converted into his harem.  The curious arms, costumes, and jewels which Hussein Pacha had brought with him, were a godsend to the virtuoso weary of examining and admiring them; and, before the African had been a week in the house, he and his host were sworn friends.  Unfortunately this harmony was not destined to last very long.

“One morning Hussein Pacha’s cook (a Nubian as black as ink, and as shining as if he had been polished with a shoe-brush) entered the kitchen of the hotel, and asked for the largest knife they had.  The head-cook gave him a sort of carving-knife, some eighteen inches long, sharp as a razor, and pliant as a foil.  The negro looked at it, shook his head as if in doubt whether it would do, but nevertheless took it up stairs with him.  Presently he brought it down again, and asked for a larger one.  The cook opened all his drawers, and at last found a sort of cutlass, which he hardly ever used on account of its enormous size.  With this the Nubian appeared more satisfied, and again went up stairs.  Five minutes afterwards he came down for the third time, and returned the knife, asking for a bigger one still.  The cook’s curiosity was excited, and he enquired who wanted the knife, and for what purpose.

“The African told him very coolly that the dey, having left his dominions rather in a hurry, had forgotten to bring an executioner with him, and had consequently ordered his cook to get a large knife and cut off the head of Osmin, chief of the eunuchs, who was convicted of having kept such negligent watch and ward over his highness’s seraglio, that some presumptuous Giaour had made a hole in the wall, and established a communication with Zaida, the dey’s favourite odalisque.  Accordingly Osmin was to be decapitated; and as to the offending lady, the next time the dey took an airing in the bay of Naples, she would be put into the boat in a sack, and consigned to the keeping of the kelpies.  Thunderstruck at such summary proceedings, the cook desired his Nubian brother to wait while he went for a larger knife; then hastening to M. Martin Zill, he told him what he had just heard.