This visit proved a very tedious one, for I had to listen to a long story which did not interest me in the least.
As I was going out I was met by an official, who said another prisoner wanted to speak to me.
“What’s his name?”
“His name is Gaetano, and he says he is a relation of yours.”
My relation and Gaetano! I thought it might be the abbe.
I went up to the first floor, and found a score of wretched prisoners sitting on the ground roaring an obscene song in chorus.
Such gaiety is the last resource of men condemned to imprisonment on the galleys; it is nature giving her children some relief.
One of the prisoners came up to me and greeted me as “gossip.” He would have embraced me, but I stepped back. He told me his name, and I recognized in him that Gaetano who had married a pretty woman under my auspices as her godfather. The reader may remember that I afterwards helped her to escape from him.
“I am sorry to see you here, but what can I do for you?”
“You can pay me the hundred crowns you owe me, for the goods supplied to you at Paris by me.”
This was a lie, so I turned my back on him, saying I supposed imprisonment had driven him mad.
As I went away I asked an official why he had been imprisoned, and was told it was for forgery, and that he would have been hanged if it had not been for a legal flaw. He was sentenced to imprisonment for life.
I dismissed him from my mind, but in the afternoon I had a visit from an advocate who demanded a hundred crowns on Gaetano’s behalf, supporting his claim by the production of an immense ledger, where my name appeared as debtor on several pages.
“Sir,” said I, “the man is mad; I don’t owe him anything, and the evidence of this book is utterly worthless.
“You make a mistake, sir,” he replied; “this ledger is good evidence, and our laws deal very favorably with imprisoned creditors. I am retained for them, and if you do not settle the matter by to-morrow I shall serve you with a summons.”
I restrained my indignation and asked him politely for his name and address. He wrote it down directly, feeling quite certain that his affair was as good as settled.
I called on Agatha, and her husband was much amused when I told my story.
He made me sign a power of attorney, empowering him to act for me, and he then advised the other advocate that all communications in the case must be made to him alone.
The ‘paglietti’ who abound in Naples only live by cheating, and especially by imposing on strangers.
Sir Rosebury remained at Naples, and I found myself acquainted with all the English visitors. They all lodged at “Crocielles,” for the English are like a flock of sheep; they follow each other about, always go to the came place, and never care to shew any originality. We often arranged little trips in which the two Saxons joined, and I found the time pass very pleasantly. Nevertheless, I should have left Naples after the fair if my love for Callimena had not restrained me. I saw her every day and made her presents, but she only granted me the slightest of favours.