one--only, instead of Teresa, it was Beppo who was on the steps of
the church of San Giacomo."

"What!" exclaimed Franz, "the peasant girl who snatched his mocoletto
from him"--

"Was a lad of fifteen," replied Peppino. "But it was no disgrace to your
friend to have been deceived; Beppo has taken in plenty of others."

"And Beppo led him outside the walls?" said the count.

"Exactly so; a carriage was waiting at the end of the Via Macello. Beppo
got in, inviting the Frenchman to follow him, and he did not wait to be
asked twice. He gallantly offered the right-hand seat to Beppo, and sat
by him. Beppo told him he was going to take him to a villa a league from
Rome; the Frenchman assured him he would follow him to the end of the
world. The coachman went up the Via di Ripetta and the Porta San Paola;
and when they were two hundred yards outside, as the Frenchman became
somewhat too forward, Beppo put a brace of pistols to his head, the
coachman pulled up and did the same. At the same time, four of the band,
who were concealed on the banks of the Almo, surrounded the carriage.
The Frenchman made some resistance, and nearly strangled Beppo; but he
could not resist five armed men, and was forced to yield. They made
him get out, walk along the banks of the river, and then brought him
to Teresa and Luigi, who were waiting for him in the catacombs of St.
Sebastian."

"Well," said the count, turning towards Franz, "it seems to me that this
is a very likely story. What do you say to it?"

"Why, that I should think it very amusing," replied Franz, "if it had
happened to any one but poor Albert."

"And, in truth, if you had not found me here," said the count, "it might
have proved a gallant adventure which would have cost your friend dear;
but now, be assured, his alarm will be the only serious consequence."

"And shall we go and find him?" inquired Franz.

"Oh, decidedly, sir. He is in a very picturesque place--do you know the
catacombs of St. Sebastian?"

"I was never in them; but I have often resolved to visit them."

"Well, here is an opportunity made to your hand, and it would be
difficult to contrive a better. Have you a carriage?"

"No."

"That is of no consequence; I always have one ready, day and night."

"Always ready?"

"Yes. I am a very capricious being, and I should tell you that sometimes
when I rise, or after my dinner, or in the middle of the night, I
resolve on starting for some particular point, a