surgeon to see this boy. _Adio_, my friends. I 'll come and see you
to-morrow, when you are well rested and refreshed.'

In a boisterous profusion of thanks, old Babbo and the Donna uttered
their gratitude, while Gerald and Marietta kissed their benefactor's
hand, and moved on.

'He's a noble Signor,' muttered old Gaetana; 'and I'd swear by the
accent of his words he is no Florentine.'

'Thou art right for once, old lady,' said the servant, as he led the
way; 'he's of the north, and the best blood of Piedmont.'

CHAPTER XV. A TUSCAN POLICE COURT

Long before their generous patron had awoke the following morning, the
little company of Babbo were standing as prisoners in the dread presence
of the Prefetto. Conducted by a detachment of the carabinieri, and
secured with manacles enough to have graced the limbs of galley-slaves,
the _vagabonds_ as they were politely called, were led along through the
streets, amid the jokes and mockeries of a very unsympathising public.

Tuscan justice, we are informed by competent authority, has not made,
either in its essence or externals, any remarkable progress since the
time we are now speaking of. The same ruinous old edifice stands the
Temple of Justice; the same dirt and squalor disgraces its avenues and
approaches; the same filthy mob beset the doors--a ragged mob, in whose
repulsive features a smashed decalogue is marked, amid whom, in hot and
eager haste, are seen some others, a shadow better in dress, but more
degraded still in look--the low advocates of these courts, 'Cavallochi,'
as they are styled--a class whose lives of ignominy and subornation
would comprise almost every known species of rascality. By these men are
others goaded on and stimulated to prefer claims against the well-to-do
and respectable; by them are charges devised, circumstances invented,
perjuries provided, at the shortest notice. They have their company
of false witnesses ready for any accusation--no impugnment upon their
credit being the fact that they live by perjury, and have no other
subsistence.

Meet president of such a court was the scowling, ill-dressed, and
ill-favoured fellow who, with two squalid clerks at his side, sat judge
of the tribunal. A few swaggering carabinieri, with their carbines on
their arms, moved in and out of the court, buffeting the crowd with
rude gestures, and deporting themselves like masters of the ignoble
herd around them. By these, as it seemed--for all was m