It was Sunday.  Mass was about to be celebrated, and the whole population had assembled in the Great Square when he arrived.  No one recognised him, and everyone gazed with astonishment at the fine officer.  Presently he saw amongst the peasants a former sergeant of his who had served in his guard at Naples.  He walked straight up to him and put his hand on the man’s shoulder.

“Tavella,” he said, “don’t you recognise me?”

But as the man made no answer: 

“I am Joachim Murat, I am your king,” he said.  “Yours be the honour to shout ‘Long live Joachim!’ first.”

Murat’s suite instantly made the air ring with acclamations, but the Calabrians remained silent, and not one of his comrades took up the cry for which the king himself had given the signal; on the contrary, a low murmur ran through the crowd.  Murat well understood this forerunner of the storm.

“Well,” he said to Tavella, “if you won’t cry ‘Long live Joachim!’ you can at least fetch me a horse, and from sergeant I will promote you to be captain.”

Tavella walked away without answering, but instead of carrying out the king’s behest, went into his house, and did not appear again.

In the meantime the people were massing together without evincing any of the sympathy that the king had hoped for.  He felt that he was lost if he did not act instantly.

“To Monteleone!” he cried, springing forward towards the road which led to that town.

“To Monteleone!” shouted his officers and men, as they followed him.

And the crowd, persistently silent, opened to let them pass.

But they had hardly left the square before a great disturbance broke out.  A man named Giorgio Pellegrino came out of his house with a gun and crossed the square, shouting, “To your arms!”

He knew that Captain Trenta Capelli commanding the Cosenza garrison was just then in Pizzo, and he was going to warn him.

The cry “To arms!” had more effect on the crowd than the cry “Long live Joachim!”

Every Calabrian possesses a gun, and each one ran to fetch his, and when Trenta Capelli and Giorgio Pellegrino came back to the square they found nearly two hundred armed men there.

They placed themselves at the head of the column, and hastened forward in pursuit of the king; they came up with him about ten minutes from the square, where the bridge is nowadays.  Seeing them, Murat stopped and waited for them.

Trenta Capelli advanced, sword in hand, towards the king.

“Sir,” said the latter, “will you exchange your captain’s epaulettes for a general’s?  Cry ‘Long live Joachim!’ and follow me with these brave fellows to Monteleone.”

“Sire,” said Trenta Capelli, “we are the faithful subjects of King Ferdinand, and we come to fight you, and not to bear you company.  Give yourself up, if you would prevent bloodshed.”

Murat looked at the captain with an expression which it would be impossible to describe; then without deigning to answer, he signed to Cagelli to move away, while his other hand went to his pistol.  Giotgio Pellegrino perceived the movement.