rini, "I am
delighted to have your approbation, but it was not for that I came."

"Did you come to tell us you have procured a carriage?" asked Albert,
lighting his cigar.

"No; and your excellencies will do well not to think of that any longer;
at Rome things can or cannot be done; when you are told anything cannot
be done, there is an end of it."

"It is much more convenient at Paris,--when anything cannot be done, you
pay double, and it is done directly."

"That is what all the French say," returned Signor Pastrini, somewhat
piqued; "for that reason, I do not understand why they travel."

"But," said Albert, emitting a volume of smoke and balancing his chair
on its hind legs, "only madmen, or blockheads like us, ever do travel.
Men in their senses do not quit their hotel in the Rue du Helder, their
walk on the Boulevard de Gand, and the Cafe de Paris." It is of course
understood that Albert resided in the aforesaid street, appeared every
day on the fashionable walk, and dined frequently at the only restaurant
where you can really dine, that is, if you are on good terms with
its frequenters. Signor Pastrini remained silent a short time; it was
evident that he was musing over this answer, which did not seem
very clear. "But," said Franz, in his turn interrupting his host's
meditations, "you had some motive for coming here, may I beg to know
what it was?"

"Ah, yes; you have ordered your carriage at eight o'clock precisely?"

"I have."

"You intend visiting Il Colosseo."

"You mean the Colosseum?"

"It is the same thing. You have told your coachman to leave the city
by the Porta del Popolo, to drive round the walls, and re-enter by the
Porta San Giovanni?"

"These are my words exactly."

"Well, this route is impossible."

"Impossible!"

"Very dangerous, to say the least."

"Dangerous!--and why?"

"On account of the famous Luigi Vampa."

"Pray, who may this famous Luigi Vampa be?" inquired Albert; "he may be
very famous at Rome, but I can assure you he is quite unknown at Paris."

"What! do you not know him?"

"I have not that honor."

"You have never heard his name?"

"Never."

"Well, then, he is a bandit, compared to whom the Decesaris and the
Gasparones were mere children."

"Now then, Albert," cried Franz, "here is a bandit for you at last."

"I forewarn you, Signor Pastrini, that I shall not believe one word of
what you are going to tell us; having told you this, begin."

"Once upo