expense, of course, of the unfortunate English, to whom M. Dumas bears about the same degree of affection that another dark-complexioned gentleman is said to do to holy water. This is one of M. Dumas's little peculiarities or affectations, it is difficult to say which. Wherever it is possible to bring in England and the English, depreciate them in any way, or turn them into ridicule, M. Dumas invariably does it, and those passages are frequently the most amusing in his books. In the present instance, it is a very harmless piece of faufarronade in which he indulges.
The armed brig in which M. Louet has embarked, falls in which a squadron of English men-of-war. Hearing a great bustle upon deck, our musician goes up to enquire the cause, and finds the captain quietly seated, smoking his pipe. After the usual salutations—
"'M. Louet, have you ever seen a naval combat?' said the captain to me.
"'Never, sir.'
"'Would you like to see one?'
"'Why, captain, to say the truth, there are other things I should better like to see.'
"'I am sorry for it; for it you wished to see one, a real good one, your wish would soon be gratified.'
"'What! captain,' cried I, feeling myself grow pale; 'you do not mean to say we are going to have a naval combat? Ha, ha! I see you are joking, captain.'
"'Joking, eh? Look yonder. What do you see?'
"'I see three very fine vessels.'
"'Count again.'
"'I see more. Four, five, there are six of them.'
"'Can you distinguish what there is on the flag of the nearest one? Here, take the glass.'
"'I cannot make out very well, but I think I see a harp.'
"'Exactly.—The Irish harp. In a few minutes they'll play as a tune on it.'
"'But captain,' said I, 'they are still a long way off, and it appears to me, that by spreading all those sails which are now furled upon your masts and yards, you might manage to escape. In your place I should certainly run away. Excuse me for the suggestion, but it is my opinion as fourth bass of the Marseilles theatre. If I had the honour to be a sailor, I should perhaps think differently.'"
Very sensible advice, too, M. Louet, we should have thought at least, considering the odds of six to one. But the fire-eating Frenchman thinks otherwise.
"'If it were a man, instead of a bass, who made me such a proposal,' replied the captain, 'I should have had a word or two to say to him about it. Know, sir, that Captain Garnier never runs away! He fights till his vessel is riddled like a sieve, then he allows himself to be boarded, and when his decks are covered with the enemy, he goes into the powder magazine with his pipe in his mouth, shakes out the burning ashes, and sends the English on a voyage of discovery upwards.'
"'And the French?'
"'The French too.'
"'And the passengers?'
"'The passengers likewise.'
"'At that moment, a small white cloud appeared issuing from the side of one of the English ships. This was followed by a dull noise like a heavy blow on the big drum. I saw some splinters fly from the top of the brig's gunwale, and an artilleryman, who was just then standing on his gun, fell backwards upon me. 'Come, my friend,' said I, 'mind what you are about.' And, as he did not stir, I pushed him. He fell upon the deck. I looked at him with more attention. His head was off.
"My nerves were so affected by this sight, that five minutes later I found myself in the ship's hold, without exactly knowing how I had got there."
Thanks to a storm, the six English men of war manage to escape from the brig, and when M. Louet ventures to re-appear upon deck, he finds himself in the Italian port of Piombino, opposite the island of Elba. He has had enough of the water, and goes on shore, where he bargains with a vetturino to take him to Florence. A young officer of French hussars, and four Italians, are his travelling companions. The former, on learning his name and profession, asks him sundry questions about a certain Mademoiselle Zephyrine, formerly a dancer at the Marseilles theatre, and in whom he seems to take a strong interest.
Bad springs and worse roads render it very difficult to sleep. At last, on the second night of their journey, M. Louet succeeds in getting up a doze, out of which he is roused in a very unpleasant manner. We will give his own account of it.
"'Two pistol-shots, the flash of which almost burned my face, awoke me. They were fired by M. Ernest, (the hussar officer.) We were attacked by banditti.'
"'Faccia in terra! Faccia in terra!' I jumped out of the carriage, and as I did so, one of the brigands gave me a blow between the shoulders, that threw me upon my face. My companions were already in that position, with the exception of M. Ernest, who was defending himself desperately. At length he was overpowered and made prisoner.
"My pockets were turned inside out, and my hundred crowns taken away. I had a diamond ring on my finger, which I hoped they would not observe, and I turned the stone inside, heartily wishing, as I did so, that it had the power of Gyges' ring, and could render me invisible. But all was in vain. The robbers soon found it out. When they had taken every thing from us—
"'Is there a musician amongst you?' said he who appeared the chief.
"Nobody answered.
"'Well,' repeated he, 'are you all deaf? I asked if any of you knew how to play on an instrument.'
"'Pardieu!' said a voice, which I recognized as that of the young officer; 'there's M. Louet, who plays the bass.'
"I wished myself a hundred feet under ground.
"'Which is M. Louet?' said the brigand. 'Is it this one?' And, stooping down, he laid hold of the collar of my shooting-jacket, and lifted me on my feet.
"'For Heaven's sake, what do you want with me?' cried I.
"'Nothing to be so frightened about,' was the answer. 'For a week past we have been hunting every where for a musician, without being able to find one. The captain will be delighted to see you.'
"'What!' cried I, 'are you going to take me to the captain?'
"'Certainly we are.'
"'To separate me from my companions?'
"'What can we do with them? They are not musicians.'
"'Gentlemen!' cried I, 'for God's sake, help me! do not let me be carried off in this manner.'
"'The gentlemen will have the goodness to remain with their noses in the dust for the space of a quarter of an hour,' said the brigand. 'As to the officer, tie him to a tree,' continued he, to the four men who were holding the hussar. 'In a quarter of an hour the postillion will untie him. Not a minute sooner, if you value your life.'
"The postillion gave a sort of affirmative grunt, and the robbers now moved off in the direction of the mountains. I was led between two of them. After marching for some time, we saw a light in a window, and presently halted at a little inn on a cross-road. The bandits went up stairs, excepting two, who remained with me in the kitchen, and
