Joseph Wilmot, or, The Memoirs of a Man-Servant — page 121: what you’re looking at

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108 JOSEPH WILMOT; OR, THE MEMOIRS OF A MAN-SERVANT.. vour of his grateful piety; and then securing the documents about his person, he said, “ I will hasten away for a few minutes to assure myself that all is safe. I will return—and we will speed hence together.” For precaution’s sake he again locked and bolted the door upon me; and I restored the stone to its setting. Ten minutes elapsed: they seemed ten hours. Oh, what anxiety I endured! what agonizing suspense ! If anything should transpire to prevent Volterra’s return—if his noble treason towards the brigands should be discovered—what earthly hope was there for either of us in the midst of that overpowering horde of ruffiansP At length I heard footsteps approaching—the key turned in the lock—the door opened—and Volterra re-appeared. He hada cutlass by his side and a brace of pistols stuck in his belt: he carried an- other cutlass and another brace of pistols in his hands, “ Arm yourself, Joseph,” he said: “ for though all seems favourable to our purpose, yet peril may start up at any moment, like a snake raising its head from amidst its coils. If need be, you will fight ?” “To the very last drop of my blood!” I an- swered, buckling on the belt to which the cutlass was suspended, and then securing the pistols con- veniently at the waist. We shook hands as if thereby ratifying a com- pact which two men surrounded with dangers had formed to fight—and if necessary, die together: and then we issued forth. I judged from the pre- cautions Volterra thus took, as well as from the solemn manner in which he had addressed me, and the way in which he had pressed my hand, that our position was almost a desperate one: but I was nerved to encounter any peril. The corridor was threaded—we reached the staircase, which we descended. ‘“‘ Now for the sentinel in the usual spot!” said Volterra. “I do not wish to spill human blood unnecessarily, even though it be that of one of these ruffans; but if need be, I slay him! Re- main you here in the vestibule for a few moments: but if you hear footsteps descending the stairs, hasten to me at once in front of the stable- door !” Having thus spoken, Volterra walked away; and I remained in the vestibule—that same little place, be it recollected, whence opened the door of the cell where Olivia Sackville was incarcerated on the first memorable night of my acquaintance with the brigands. Volterra proceeded towards the angle of the building where the sentinel was posted: but ere he reached it, the sentinel himself, with shouldered firelock, and otherwise armed to the teeth, emerged from round the corner. I stood back in the doorway, so as to remain unperceived by him: but yet I myself could see what was going on. The man appeared by no means surprised to observe Volterra thus armed: nor indeed was it likely that he should discern anything suspicious in that fact, considering that he regarded Angelo as one of his comrades. Volterra stopped as if in an easy leisurely manner to exchange a few friendly words with the sentinel: but all in an in- stant—as quick as the eye can wink—he tore his musket from his grasp, and with the butt-end of it struck him down. The fellow lay senseless ; and 12 | a a a a just at that very same instant I heard footsteps. descending the stairs. I remembered Volterra’s injunction, that I wax at once to hasten to him in such a case: but that. injunction was evidently given with the idea that the conflict between himself and the sentinel would take place round the angle of the building, at the stable-door, and consequently out of sight of any one emerging from that doorway where I stood. Now, therefore, whoever was descending could see what was taking place: he would be at once smitten with the conviction of treachery ; and even though I tried to speed out of sight round the angle, he would raise an alarm. I could tell that it was only one person descending: the crisis was momentous—the peril was infinite—and my mind was made up how to act. I stepped forth from the vestibule, and planted myself against the wall just outside the doorway,—grasping my drawn cutlass in such a manner that its massive hilt might serve the purpose of a club. Only a few instants elapsed ere the footsteps reached the vesti- bule: then a foot was thrust forth upon the door- step—then the individual himself appeared—and at the same moment I struck him down. It was Philippo. He fell heavily with a low moan: my knee was instantaneously placed upon his breast— my hand upon bis mouth. But these precautions were unnecessary: he was completely stunned— but I saw that he was not dead. Volterra, who had beheld this proceeding, beck oned me to follow his example; and that was to drag my vanquished enemy round towards the stable. This I speedily did: both the banditti continued senseless—we dragged them into the stable—and Volterra exclaimed, “ Bravely done, my young friend! Your presence of mind not less than your courage has saved us. Quick to get the horses in readiness !” Without an instant’s loss of time, we proceeded to saddle a couple of the animals—but keeping the while a good look-out, as we thought, upon the two banditti. The saddles and bridles were put on; and we were about to lead the horses forth, when the sharp report of a pistol sounded through the place—and my hat was knocked off by the bullet. With scarcely a second’s interval, another pistol was fired—fortunately however without hit- ting either of us. Philippo having raised himself to a sitting posture, had done this; and now he made a desperate effort to gain his legs and draw his hanger—but we overpowered him in a moment. A second blow from Volterra‘s weapon struck him down senseless again: his comrade, the sentinel, continued inanimate; and we made all possible despatch to get the horses out of the place. But scarcely had we reached the open air, when we beheld Marco Uberti staggering towards us. The quick excited glance which we both flung around showed us that the bandit-captain was alone; and then the looks which we the next in-. stant exchanged, proved to one another that we were each simultaneously smitten with the same idea. The brigand-chief had stopped short in a species of drunken bewilderment at what he be- held, and which he could not understand. We precipitated ourselves upon him—we hurled him to the ground—I thrust my kerchief into his mouth—while Volterra with his own tied the ruf- fian’s hands behind his back. Then we lifted him OOO) <S (CO)