CHAPTER II.

CHRISTMAS EVE.

Oh! tis a merry tide that of Christmas, at Naples, and the day before that holiday is the merriest of holidays.

"Tis a day of rejoicing for all classes-a day in which the rich, the poor, the great signors and the lazaroni take their fill of every-thing that presents-itself in the shape of enjoyment and pleasure; 'tis a fête day equally on the highway as in the palace. Even the poorest are on that day happy! 'Tis twelve hours of continual joy, 'tis the gala of galas, the highest national solemnity!

At day-break, the bells of the three hundred churches peal-forth on all sides a mad and deafening round: Naples awakes; and thousands of crackers respond to the summons, quickly uniting-themselves in one wide-extended chorus, with the shouts of the dispensers-proclaiming, as it were, the wildest delight, the greatest joy.

Each individual attires-himself in his best, and makes-himself-ready to sally-forth: everything must needs wear an air which will harmonize with the universal gaiety, and the streets, even, in some instances, exhibit-themselves no longer to the astonished gazers save under a garb the most dazzling. From one end to the other they are garnished on each side with ambulatory shops of edibles, arranged with an infinity of art and luxury.

There are figs, olives and sweetmeats of all sorts and colors, distributed in different compartments on the counters of their stalls; thousands of lemons and oranges suspended with narrow ribbands, which form festoons round their partitions, and hang in graceful garlands; then, a Madonna, illuminated with a profusion of wax-tapers, is fervently displayed in the centre of these little gastronomic chapels, and adds still further to the quaintness of the gaily decked shops; in another part, the pastry-cooks, and lemonade-sellers follow a similar example, and the jack of the spit serves as a base for an altar to the Virgin Mary; next, all the shopkeepers ornament their houses with flowers and branches of trees; display their most valuable commodities; and even upon, and along the balconies, fowls, ducks, turkies and other delicacies destined for the ensuing festival are arranged, to attest, as it were, that the inhabitants of the palazzi likewise participate in this grand exposition, and are desirous of furnishing their tribute to the general cheerfulness; and no one troubles-himself about any business or occupation whatever, save such as administers to the general joy: on all sides, an immense crowd presses heavily; but it has no particular object; it moves about to see and be seen, to admire and make-merry-that is all. The dwellers in Naples are no longer the ordinary inhabitants of Naples; its populace have become, as it were, curious strangers, who have but one day to visit it, and the city seems too little to contain them all; however, they are-not all arrived!-for in the evening the crowd will be still greater!

Listen how the uproar increases? What shouts, laughter and din! Look at the

shower of fiery serpents flung hissing from those windows, how they twist, bounce and explode over that agitated sea of heads? Do you not remark that it increases in terrific progression ?-Soon, there will-not be left the smallest space to circulate-in; and more especially in the Strada Toledo, the very heart of the crowd and fête; tis really a curious sight, so that we must press-forward if possible to see it. But what a squeeze! What confusion !!

'Tis folly to attempt getting through it. That hackney-coachman, yonder, who persists in advancing whether it be possible or not, with oaths and execrations unheeded, shouts-himself-hoarse, in vain; they will never make-way for him. Aye, he has done wisely, at last, to stop there, at the corner of the Strada Vicolo Nardones ; it would have been impossible for him to have gone a step further, and those two persons who are getting out of his vehicle will certainly arrive sooner on foot. Is it not ridiculous to be in such haste on a day like this-to have business of importance on Christmas Eve ?-nevertheless, it is astonishing how they thread the crowd!they are already more than twenty paces a-head! The first, with his tall stature and lofty carriage, allows no obstacle to impede him; one might imagine that he found a pleasure in thus pushing and thrusting right and left; and had it not been for his companion, he would-not now have stopped before that group of lazaroni-some standing, some reclining on the ground, but all with motionless and open mouths, grouped round a man who addresses them with fire and enthusiasm; not a word, not a syllable escapes them, so interesting are the brave deeds of Rinaldo which that famous improvisatore is exciting! During the moments in which he stops to take-breath, they scarcely venture to exchange a word with their neighbours, lest they should lose the thread of his history. There must, then, be something very extraordinary about that last comer (for his companion has suddenly disappeared) who has just mingled among the auditory, for all their looks are directed towards him! Seest thou how they are all whispering together :-ah! certes, he is-not of the lazaroni !

"Didst thou see, Salvatore, that man enveloped in his cloak, who was just now at thy elbow!—if he were-not in prison, this long while, I should have thought it had been the duke of San Guiseppe."

"What! he who assassinated his mistress upon the public square, in presence of the whole people; him whom they seized, two days afterwards, at a few leagues from Terracina! . . . Why thou art a fool, Gaëtano !—Catenio, thy cousin, holds him fast, and, as thou knowest, he detests the nobles too much to let them escape from his clutches. Go-to-the lacryma-christi* makes thee dream."

"Dream! why, look, thyself-on the other side, almost facing us; look thou!' "Thou art a fool, I tell thee; I have too good a place to disturb-myself." "Oh! I never saw a more striking likeness !—for I know him well—I have seen him pass-by so often, when, during the summer's heat, I sought-shelter under the porticos of his mansion!"

Salvatore carelessly turned-himself-round.

"Why, truly, thou art right; 'tis his likeness to a hair only he seems

*Wine made from the exuded drops of full-ripe grapes.

...

to me somewhat taller. . . . Call Viganino; he will recognize better than we, whether 'tis his ancient patron of Ischia who stands yonder."

“Viganino!"... But as the voice of the improvisatore again poured-forth its allattractive rhapsody, each resumed his place: Viganino, who had partly raised-himself-up, re-settled-himself; silence was re-established, and private conversations yielding immediately to the subject of general interest, were willingly suspended until the next pause.

Gaëtano, however, did-not take his eyes from off the tall stranger; in vain did he wish to give his utmost attention to the eloquent recital; yet, in spite of himself, his gaze reverted unceasingly in that direction, and the apparition appeared to him still more miraculous, still more incomprehensible! He doubted whether it werenot a spectre, so pallid was that countenance ! Then, those large, dark eyes, which slowly wandered over the assemblage, as though in search of some prey, terrified him; he would fain have quitted his place and fled; simpleton that he was! whilst that young Calabrian, close beside him, appeared so tranquil, almost touching his cloak with his goat's-hair vestment.

How free and open was the mien of that poor Zampagnaro! There was so much good-humour in his smile, so much natural wonderment in his gaze, so much expression in all his features! So extraordinary was all that relation to which he was listening! His mother, that year, for the first time, had allowed him to leave the mountains; and, furnished only with his rustic pipe, he had journeyed to the "great city" to go and play before the Madonnas; the singing of the carols would cease that very evening, and, upon the morrow, he would wend-his-way back to the Abruzzi with his companions. Thus was he making the most of his last day, and listening with scrupulous attention; he feared to lose a single word, for he was desirous, in his turn, to relate all that he had heard when he returned to his native hamlet. Amongst the bystanders, there were a few, also, who might be readily recognized as his countrymen, since the latter, like himself, wore the goat's-hair vestment, the blue coat, red waistcoat, sandals, and the small, conical hat, ornamented with velvet ribands, but none appeared to possess so good and gentle a disposition: over his features an air of good-faith and candor was diffused, which could-not be perceived among the others; then, too, he was so young!-at the furthest, not more than sixteen !

He had no distrust, like Gaëtano, no not he! He had never done any harm; and why should he have imagined that, for several moments, those large, dark eyes had been riveted upon him with a most deadly expression? On the contrary, he was just saying, "Come nearer here, you will hear better."

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poor lad!"

In fact, the man did approach him, and having leaned forwards, as if to hear more distinctly, as the Zampagnaro bid him, his large cloak fell from one shoulder, and was seen for an instant to cover them both.

That instant exceeded in duration scarce the lightning's flash ;—but it was too long a piercing shriek was heard; under that sort of shroud, a man had fallen, mortally wounded! and Gaëtano saw no more than the faint shadow, which fled, and was soon lost in the crowd.

Poor Zampagnaro! he was then stretched, bathing the pavement with his blood, which escaped from a large wound close to the heart; and casting upon his astonished companions a last sorrowful, yet placid look, seemed to say :-"Why has he stabbed me? I never harmed him!"

Poor Zampagnaro !-his eyes must soon close for ever;-death has seized him; and he has only time to exclaim-" My Mother!"

And the assassin, what has become of him? The thunder-stricken bystanders remain motionless, not even daring to interrogate each other. Gaëtano was-not the only one who had remarked the man of tall stature, and full twenty besides him would have sworn that it was the duke of San Guiseppe, the same who had been seen two years back to assassinate a female upon the public square. He still wore a similar dress; it was certainly he ;-and yet the duke of San Guiseppe was imprisoned in the Vicaria: how was all this possible?

No one could solve the problem; Viganino only affirmed that he had always thought his old patron of Ischia was innocent.

Exactly as the clock of the Vicaria struck five in the evening, a carriage, passing beneath the Capua gate, stopped a few paces from the former, and two men got out of it, enveloped in their cloaks, looking round them earnestly, as though fearful of being observed.

"'Tis on this side, your excellency, that the postern-gate is situate, where we are to await Catenio."

"To say truly, signor advocate, I cannot see a step; 'tis so horribly dark here ; and so brilliant was the light in the Strada Toledo, that my sight remains still dazzled from it."

A few minutes afterwards, the postern-door had closed on the duke of San Guiseppe. An hour after, Satalani attended evening mass at the royal chapel !

CHAPTER III.

THE CRIMINAL TRIBUNAL.

Whither is all that train of brilliant equipages going? Why does it proceed along the coast on the side of the old city, instead of taking, according to custom, the road to Posilipo, by the Strada Nuova? There must needs be some extraordinary fête, for all those elegantly-dressed women to condemn-themselves thus to be detained for an hour in that uncomfortable quarter; and, more especially, seeing that it has been so these four days past, and upon each of those days the crowd has been greater than that of the preceding! Doubtless it is some imposing ceremony-some noble novice about to take-the-veil at the del Carmine church-perhaps, the miracle of the liquefaction of the blood of Saint Gennaro 'tis also very probable that it may be some famous Pulchinella upon the square del Mercato, for the court, with all its pomp and vanity, has likewise its ordinary likings. But a trial before the criminal tribunal! as those two lazaroni say, who are walking so fast, as if they were behindhand; duchesses going to shut-themselves-up in a hall, filled with the commonpeople, where the atmosphere is suffocating, to be present during all the details of a horrible crime !— Elegant, delicate, tender women sitting to hear sentence pronounced -perhaps of death! Oh! no, those two lazaroni are fools to think that such is the case.

And yet, notwithstanding, it was before the great gate of the Vicaria that the carriages stopped. Those ladies passed laughingly under the ancient portals, jesting about their singular promenade, and the gentlemen-of-the-black-robe whom for the last few days they had patronized.

"Where is Satalani?" exclaimed the duchess of San Theodore; "how happens it that he is-not here to offer us his hand? We shall lose ourselves under these long arcades, for this Vicaria is a veritable labyrinth, and I think I might come hither a hundred times, and be unable to find-my-way.

"Truly, the gentlemen-of-the bar deserve to be cited, in their turn, before a court of love, for their lack of gallantry; and we should then see whether Satalani, with all his talent and finesse, would be able to find a pardonable excuse for having neglected us."

"He would tell you, probably, my lady," laughingly replied the marchioness de Loja, "with some change of phrase, what he remarked yesterday in his brilliant pleading for San Guiseppe, that he could-not be in two places at the same time, and that, being compelled to find seats for some other ladies who had arrived before us, he found it wholly impossible to pay-his-court to you."

"Bravo! marchesa, you plead admirably; 'tis the air of the tribunal which inspires you; I shall tell Satalani, whom I recognise yonder approaching us with his complaisant and courtier-like air, that he may hereafter reckon you amongst the number of his colleagues. What say you, ladies? does she not deserve an advocate's cap?"