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OIIPNtIOIIH f tll
u ln*n- are 1,u ‘ " hi J>B of T vre?
W li,i wrote divine W illium’a plays?
who ronwwl Patterson’s Ire?
Where is Rutherford Hayes?
~ .i, came forth, tin* beast or the dame?
Wli„ penned “The Beautiful Snow?”
b uh . lt is this Murchison’s name?
’ We're blest if we know.
lit Fiskvu of Naples.
BYA.LEXANDIE.DU MAS*
! /
“Merciful powers!” exclaimed the two
young girls. j
“iSouora,” added the fisherman, quickly, j
“did you not tell mo that your father was an
t in the army of the viceroy? If such is
there-, and if your father loves you, let him !
break bis sword this very evening, for to
morrow there will be neither truce nor ;
merry! To-morrow the people will crush,
v. -lit piry, every hireling of despotism.”
T)i" last words were pronounced in atone
of voice fitted to make the bravest shudder. !
"1 frighten you,” continued he in a milder
manner, and approaching Isabella; “pardon
me; hut do not forget the advice 1 have
given you. The measure is full; the day of
vuiigoince is at hand; yet let not my hands
[ dved, senora, with the blood of your
father.”
\ “Unhappy man,” said Isabella, “you your
>,',f :aa\ be the first to fail in to-morrow’s
coin hat.”
“May heaven hear your words!” answered
Ma uiicllo, “provided that out of my blood
spring the liberty of Naples, that our tyrants
arc completely vanquished, and that the
squadron you see yonder carries them far
away from us.”
He pointed to the Spanish galleons, com
manded by Don Juan Fernandez, which had
cast anchor in the bay about two hours
before.
“Tomorrow,” added the fisherman, “the
gut’s of this squadron will pour forth their
than tor, with a view to crush the revolt, for
they are the orders of a man who will nec
e: -arily support the viceroy.”
“And who is this man?” asked Isabella
with emotion. #
“Juan Fernandez. He was formerly gov
ernor of the Indies, and he is now come
to marry the daughter of the Duke of Arcos,
to whom he brings a dowry of three hundred
thousand ducats, the fruit of the most infa
mous extortion.”
At this moment the eye of Masaniello
lighted on the boat which had lieen soized
the evening before. He started with surprise.
“What do l see?” exclaimed he. “Is it a
dream?”
Jeanne made signs to Isabella, who had, as
yet, hardly recovered from tlio shock pro
duced on her by the last words of Masa
niello.
“No, brother,” said she. “it is not a dream.
Providence has been at work for us in your
absence.”
'The fisherman looked at the two young
girls in turn. His ciiest heaved and his eye
jivas moist. Then he again turned toward
the bay and exclaimed:
“Yes, it is my own bark! I see once more
the companion of my life, my daily bread!”
“But this is not all,” said Jeanne; “come!”
She took Masaniello by one arm, while Isa
bella, much affected, leaned upon the other.
The young fisherman started on, feeling
the weight of that softy white hand which
did not fear to come in contact with his
rough sleeve.
“Well, Masaniello,” said Isabella, “will
you still continue to grieve your sister and
me by talking of murder, blood and car
nage?”
M isuniello listened with great emotion to
this gentle voice, which sounded like sweet
music to him.
On reaching the door of tho cabin Dame
Pc drill;, said to her mistress, in a low voice:
“Mv dear child, night is coming on; wo must
return.”
Isabella did not even hear her, and the
mm y nurse remained on the sill of the door
mug attentively, and casting from time
tu time a look of suspicion into the cabin.
I he viceroy’s daughter was delighted with
the astonishment of Ma aniello, who, on
tl!: hng his home furnished again, experi
-1 T the same emotion he had felt at the
sight of his boat.
"i" who;;!,’’ murmured he, “do we owe
all this?”
“Cannot, you guess, brother?” said Jeanne,
Pointing to'lsabella.
Mmnmeilo knelt down, and, placing his
hand on his heart, said to the viceroy’s
daughter:
"depose of my life—it is yours.”
“lud oil,” replied Isabella, “you owe me
gratitude whatever; I am but too happy
having served you,” and she offered her
tend to tne young man, who carried it to
his lips. “So now,” continued she, “you will
n< T return to Naples, or, if you do, it will
on l v he to calm the people and to quell the
lev ' it. Promise me this, I implore you.”
-J 'aniello rose up hastily’, passed his hand
it'll ss ids forehead and stared vacantly at
the young girl.
“Calm the people quell the revolt!”
stammered he.
“Oil! brother,” said Jeanne, “do not refuse
0!lr benefactress what she asks of you.”
“-t another word—what you ask is im
possible. ’’
Ain possible!” exclaimed Isabella, in great
grief.
Nes, impossible, for the people have my
Promise.”
"Wi must say’ that y’ou have changed
y°ur mind,” said Jeanne.
tVhat! after they have chosen me for
:r loader? You would have me betray
them then! Never! Adieu!”
C‘6 young man turned toward the door,
/ a t Rubella, with her hands clasped and her
L ‘ bathed in tears, threw herself before
i him.
Stop, Masaniello!” cried she, “just now
* °’ J told me to dispose of your life. Alas I
.'Oiir offer was nothing but an empty’
tt'ord” -
“ t so, senora. I said then and I say
A lake my life, take my blood to its lust
but leave me my honor!”
S . honor, then, consist for y’ou, Mas-
in rendering Naples desolate by fire
ati( i sword r
Ihe crime belongs to those who have
J ‘ te d the people to rise. They have eom
!,"'l the lion to leave his lair, and they
at present, none to blame but them
*ikte if he devours them.”
. hut it Ls you, Masaniello, who are excit-
T the anger of the people. VY T hy do you
‘ continue to fan the flame, when you
1 extinguish it with a word?”
said the young man, “you have
„ 13 rendered us a service which entitles
J ° u to our eternal gratitude; hut if you re-
quire me, in return, to commit an act of
treacl. ry, take back the things you ba\-e re
stored to us and let me leave.”
“Oil! Masaniello! Masaniello!”
“You, senora, area Spaniard, and you can
not, therefore, understand my duties.”
“I know that you are rushing headlong to
your ruin.”
“What does it matter?”
“The Duke of Arcos has immense forces,
and Naples is full of soldiers.”
“We have God on our side.”
“But what will become of Jeanne if you
fall?”
“Pietro, her affianced, who cannot join us
in the struggle on account of his wound,
will be left to protect her. But Jeanne is
brave and strong minded, and she would
rather weep over her brother’s tomb than
see Hirn abandon tho holy cause which he
has espoused.”
“Oh, Heaven 1 oh, Heaven!” murmured Isa
bella; “ho cannot guess the real cause of my
terror!”
“Do not forgot, senora, the advice I gave
you with respect to your father,” said Masa
niello.
“My father! But if it is not on bis account
that I tremble?”
“What do I hoar?”
“Alas! he runs no risk; it is you alone who
are in danger.”
“Then, senora,” said tho young man, in a
trembling voice, “since you fear uot for him
whom 1 at first imagined to be the cause of
your alarm, I may be allowed to think—But
no! no! such a thing is impossible!”
“Do you, then, think it impossible for me,
Masaniello, calmly to see you rush to certain
death?”
“Senora, you cannot be aware of the
;roublo that jour words throw’ into my heart.
Pity! oh, pity!”
“Ma aniello! my friend—my brother”
“No, no!” quickly replied the young man,
“I am not your brother; I have given you, in
my dreams, a far dearer name.”
“And I will answer to it,” cried she, with
a burst of frantic passion.
“Oil, Isabella, spare me! Can I, tho poor
fisherman, ever hopo to obtain tho love of”—
“Stop!” cried the young girl, with great
emotion; “in owning to you the weakness of
my heart, I reserve the right of bidding you
adieu forever, if you refuse to accede to all
my wishes.”
“It is perjury you would have mo com
mit!” said Masaniello, in a trembling voice.
“It is uot perjury to quell a revolt vviiieh
you yourself have raised.”
“Your accusation is unjust. The anger of
the people hus been excited solely by the bad
faith of the Duke of Arcos.”
Isabella shuddered.
“Though it be so, Masaniello,” said she,
“does a fault justify a crime? What matters
it on which side the wrong lies? I am a
Spaniard and you are a Neapolitan; thus, if
the revolt breaks out, vve shall be separated
forever.”
“You aro right, senora,” said Masaniello,
after a moment’s struggle with himself; “a
fault nover justifies a crime. Supposing that
tho people and I were wrong in committing
a first act of violence, the man who after
ward odiously deceived us, and wdio profited
by tho confidence with which he had treach
erously inspired us, to sht.d the blood of the
Neapolitan people on tho place of the Vicaria,
is a”
“Stay, Masaniello!”
•‘This man, I say, is an infamous wretch!”
“Oh! 1 imploro you, do not speak thus!”
“If the fault is the people’s, the crime is
the viceroy’s, and I will undertake the pun
ishment.”
“Great God,” exclaimed the young girl, “I
have just told him that I love him, and this
is his reply.”
“You love me, Isabella? Oh, may Heaven
pour its blessings on your head for this
avowal, which fids my soul with pure and
boundless joy I You love me! —you! Alas!
alas!”
“Masaniello! no longer turn, I beseech you,
a deaf ear to my prayers.”
Tho young man answered nothing, but let
fall his head with tho greatest melancholy.
After a short silence ho again looked up,
and said:
“You were right; you are a Spaniard, and
I am a Neapolitan: what is about to happen
will raise an insuperable barrier between us;
you will, doubtless, hate me, but I must
sacrifice your love.”
“Silence! silence!” sobbed Isabella.
“Hear me, and let me tell you liow holy
and unchangeable is tho affection I have con
ceived for you. Your image has been deep
ly engrav. n on my heart since tho first day I
saw you.”
“It is false; for, were it so, 3*oll would have
some pit3- for me.”
“My sufferings aro greater than >*ours, Isa
bella. But would you have mo betray my
brothers'?”
‘•You aro leading them to their ruin.”
“I am loading them to glory.”
“No, no! you can have never loved me.”
“It is because I love }'ou that I am inflex
ible.”
“Hear him, oh, heaven! and judge,” said
Isabella, clasping her hands.
“Yes,” repeated Masaniello, “because I
love you. Were Ito obey 3 T ou today, to
morrow l should blush in your presence, afld
you would possess the right to treat me as a
coward.”
“Masaniello!”
“As au infamous and cowardly wrc-tch, for
I should have lied to my conscience, broken
my oath and repudiated my principles. I
should havo laid the basis of my happiness on
tho suffering of tho people, and my happiness
would have been cursed and blighted.”
“No more! Come, join your prayers to
mine, and tell him that he is mad!” exclaimed
the 3’oung girl, running to Jeanne, and tak
ing her by tho hand.
Masaniello’s sister was weeping by herself
in silence. She dried her tears, rose up
slowly, and, pointing tothesk}*, said to tne
daughter of the viceroy:
“I begin to think it is the will of heaven.
I, as well as you, have tried, by my prayers,
to turn my brother 1 rom his purpose, and
jjpl
M3
JiY vt
hrf'd,**/. bv.v* 4
And, kneeling before her, pressed her cold
hand to his Lips.
have knelt, weeping, at his feet. Nothing
but the conviction that ho is acquitting a
holy duty could give him the force thus to
resist 1113’ sisterly tenderness and your de
voted love; let us therefore be resigned and
pray for him.”
Isabella, thunder struck at these words,
turned deadly pale, and would have fallen to
* the ground had uot Masaniello sprung for
ward and caug) t her in his arms. He placed
her, perfect!} 1 senseless, on a chair of the
cabin, and, kneeling before her, pressed her
cold hand to his lips.
“Adieu!” murmured he, “adieu! This is,
perhaps, the last time that we shall meet in
this world; but if it is decreed that I am to
see 3-ou no more, if I fall in this undertaking,
your name, with that of m3' well beloved
sister, will be the last words which my d}’ing
lips will utter.”
He theu rose up hastily, seized his musket
and rushed out of the cabin.
CHAPTER V.
A SUSPICIOUS MEETTN’O
Night was descending. Masaniello, on
leaving the cabin, thought ho perceived a
human form seated at some distance, under a
bower of wild pomegranate and olive trees.
He fancied that this might boa spy, but, as
he had no time to lose, he passed on, and two
minutes afterward was in Pietro’s cabin.
The smuggler made au effort, and rose to
welcome Masaniello, whose hand lie shook
cordially. He was a man of about 80, with
a frank, loyal expression of countenance,
and had arms which seemed formed of iron
sinew. •
“Remain seated, Pietro,” said Masaniello.
“Why did you not come to see me yester
day?” asked the wounded man.
“Because I had nothing but my ruin to tell
\*ou of; but toda}* it is different. 4 ’
“ V.T!I 30U not revenge yourself?” said the
smuggler.
‘ To-morrow,” replied Masaniello, “Naples
will be free, or I shall have ceased to live.”
“You are going to rouse the people, then?
You are going to fight? Oh, I shall be strong
enough to follow you—wait for me.”
“Do not stir, I beg; but listen to mo atten
tivel3'.”
“Go on,” said Pietro.
“You still love my sister?” asked Masa
niello.
“How can 3’ou ask me such a question f*
“And >’ou still wish to marry her?”
“Yes.”
“In that case, cured or not, 3’ou must not
join us in the combat.”
Pietro started from his seat.
“No, you must not.” added the fisherman,
“because it is necessary that one of us should
remain to take care of Jeanne. Do you un
derstand 1110 now?”
A tear rolled down the smuggler’s face.
“You are right,” murmured he; “3'et, after
all, it’s a hard thing.”
“Then this is settled,” said Masaniello. “If,
therefore, I do not return to-morrow even
ing, 3’ou will take Jeanne’s arm and go with
her to the Benedictine convent. Dom Fran
cesco is to return today from Rome; I will
call presently and tell him that 3*0:1 and
Jeanne are coming to-morrow to receive the
nuptial blessing.”
“I hour,” said Pietro, trying to stifle his
sobs.
“Come, Pietro, if you cannot fight with
us you ran pray for us. Cheer up.” And
Masaniello left tho cabin.
lie did not take the road to Naples, but
followed the outward wall of tho forti
fications and directed his steps toward
Pausilippo.
Suddenly, the same doubtful form which
he had seen on leaving his own cabin ap
peared again before him.
The young man quickly took his musket
off his shoulder and clasped it tightly in both
hands.
A loud, rough voice immediately ex
claimed:
“Halloo! Signore, I hear, methinks, the
the wheel of }*our musket creaking. Corpo
and Cristo! your caution is praiseworthy in
such times as these, and while you, my
master, are pla}’ing tho game you play. Be
not so hast}’, and do not, at all events, shoot
me before 3*oll have heard what I have to
sa>’. Diavolo! I for mall}* objoct to it.”
B}* the time the stranger had finished
speaking, Masaniello found himself face to
face with him.
“Who are }*ou?” asked the fisherman, “and
what do 3*ou want with me?”
“Bravissimo! signore, that’s speaking
plainly and intelligibl)’. But }'ou seem to bo
in as great a burr}* as u hind with a pack of
hounds at its heels. Let us w*alk on to
gether, and I will tell you.”
Masaniello replaced his musket on his
shoulder, taking care, however, to keep a
strict watch on the movements of the
stranger, who was of commanding stature,
excessively robust, and armed to the teeth.
“So you are going t.o revolutionize Naples,
caro piscatore?'’ said tho colossus, in an iron
ical tone.
“It appears to me that beforo putting ques
tions }*ou might answer mine.”
“True. Don’t bo offended. You ask me
who i am Why, sanguo do Cristo! }*ou
know me well enough.”
“That may be; but, at the same time, it
would bo just as well if you were to teil mo
your name, for I am not a sorcerer.”
“Corcelli, then, mio caro —Corcelli, at your
service!”
“What! the captain of tho banditti of Ve
suvius'?”
“The same, signore.”
“Well, what do you want of me?”
“Well, carissimo, as you place mo at once
ou a footing of familiarity, l will follow
your example, and tell }’ou, without more
ado, that I want nothing of }*ou, but that I
come to offer evei*}*thing. Yet, before pro
ceeding further, I wish to know if } r ou are
really’ serious in }*our projects.”
“What interest can you take in them?”
“The same interest that is taken by every
true Neapolitan who loves his country, and
WuO hates foreign despotism.”
Masaniello raised his head, but the dark
ness prevented him from seeing the stranger’s
features; but as the latter’s voice seemed full
of frankness, lie answered:
“Wo are serious in our projects.”
“Bravissimo!” replied the bandit. “But,
per Bacco, my young master, you forget the
Duke of Arcos has placed Naples in a state of
defense: the castle is full of culverins, which
will spit out grape shot on \*ou from tho top
to tho bottom of its bastions.”
“No matter,” said Masaniello; “I will
brave their fire.”
“Very good; but have 3-ou reflected, Sig
nore Piscatore, on the immense number of
reitors and lansquenets that fill the place?
Have you taken into calculation all the Span
ish iiifantx*}' and Castilian arquebusiers
which occupy every post and fortress from
tho sea side to the furthest limits of the city?
Don’t }*ou suppose that the viceroy will let
all these military blood hounds loose on }-ou?
Corpo di Bacco! }’ou will be made mince
meat of in the twinkling of an eye.”
“You may be deceived in your conject
ures, my honest bandit. The bare arm of
tho man of the people is worth more than the
soldier’s musket.”
“Nonsense, mio caro! the soldier’s musket
will send real bullets through the head of the
man of the people, and, if } r ou have nothing
but }*our bare arm to rely on, the fish in the
bay will shortl}’ have the pleasure of devour
ing those by whom they are generally de
voured, and then your hoped for liberty goes
to the devil.”
“But where am I to procure arms?” said
Masaniello, who began to yield to the bandit’s
grotesque reasoning.
“Arms, carissimo? Ehleh! the bandit of
Vesuvius could perhaps furnish }*ou v.kh a
few. All we want is to come to an under
standing.”
“Speak, then.”
“How many muskets and arquebuses do
you require?”
“I will let you know, as soon as I bavo
counted in}’ men, in an hour,” answered
Masaniello.
“Are they all to be at tho catacombs?”
asked the bandit.
“What!” exclaimei tho fisherman, with
surprise, “do }*ou know the place wo meet
at?”
“Know it! yes.”
“Who informed }*ou of it?”
“Cospetto! you’re inquisitive; but then
you're young. 1 not only know,” continued
the bandit, “the conspirators’ place of ren
dezvous, but 1 ain also acquainted with the
reason why you stop at this monastery.”
And Corcelli pointed to the Benedictine
convent.
“What is it, then?” asked Masaniello.
“You are going to seek a monk by the
name of Dom Francesco, Am I right P
“Do you know him, then?”
“Yes; he was in m} r cave, near the volcano,
this very morning."
“You joke?”
“Not 1, per Bacco! We took him }*ester
night, on his return from Rome, and let him
go this morning, for fear he should convert
us.”
“It was, then, he who told you all?”
“Ahal povero! your inquisitiveness is at
work again! No, it was not he. But, while
I think of it, bavo you ever seen the
daughter, mio amore?” *
“No, never,” answered the fisherman, with
surprise; “but what makes \*ou ask?”
“Oh! nothing. Corpo di Cristo! I guessed
the trick.”
“What trick?”
“Don’t be uneasy. These little Spaniards
have pleut}’ of anxiety. Cospetto! but her
taste is not bad; fellows of }*our sort are not
to be met with every da}’.”
“You abuse my patience!” cried the fisher
man. “What is the meaning of }’our enig
matical language?”
“The meaning of it is, mio caro, that from
time to time I look after your interest, and
you ought to do anything but complain, since
I am about to give you the means of obtain
ing a certain victory. Listen! go and see the
monk, then hasten to the catacombs, decide
ou the hour of attack, and afterward coi?ie
to me at the foot of Vesuvius. You will then
be able to see what means I possess for carry
ing on war, to count the men I place at your
orders, and to listen to my conditions. Do
you agree to come?”
Masai lie 110 hesitate: 1.
“I hope, mio piscatore, that you do not
think mo capable of laying a snare for you?”
“I do not,” answered Masaniello, “for
what could you have in doing so?”
“Well spoken, carissimo! On the word of
a brigand, you have nothing to fear, for I
am an honest man.”
“I will be there,” said the fisherman.
“But wait! I must tell you the password.”
“What is it?’
“Masaniello. ”
“You honor me, indeed.”
“Are you not the hero of the day? Re
collect, I am waiting for you.”
“I will soon be with you,” answered tho
fisherman.
And they separated.
CHAPTER VL
THE CATACOMBS.
Two minutes afterwards Masaniello was in
tho cell of Dom Francesco.
“My son,” exclaimed the monk, pressing
the }'oung man to his heart, “how did }*ou
learn my return?”
“From Corcelli, tho captain of the bri
gands, who captured you yesterday.”
“Sancta Maria! Have you seen him, then?”
“I have but just left him.”
“What can you have to hold converse
about with him?”
“Have you not heard what has taken place
at Naples?”
“No,” said the monk. “But stay, I have
heard of a riot, which was instantly sup
pressed by the viceroy’s troops.”
“Is that all?” asked Masaniello.
“Yes, all. Were } r ou among the rioters?”
“It was I who was at the head of it,
father. ”
“You!” exclaimed the monk.
“Yes, father, I; and I thank heaven for
3’our return. You have ever been my guide,
and if the light has sometimes waded through
tho darkness of my understanding, it is to
you that I owe it.”
“My sou, I sowed in good ground, and the
harvest is, therefore, abundant.”
“Listen, father; it is time that wo should
understand one another. The instruction
1 have received from you has inspired me
with a desire to free Naples, and to relieve
the people of tyranny beneath which they at
present groan. Do you approve of this pro
ject?”
“Silence! silence! m}* son. How can you
ever hope to succeed?”
“That is not what lam talking about. Do
you approve of that project?”
“Well, then, yes! That is, if you have the
means to carry it out.”
“Are }*ou ready to join us in putting into
execution those principles in which you have
educated me?”
“My son! my son! do not hold out to mo
any deceitful hope; }*ou are young, and your
heated imagination carries you away.. Yet
could we but realize the holy maxim of tho
Gospel, and really show that all men aro
brothers!”
“We will realize it,” answered Masaniello.
“Prove this to me, and I will follow you
wherever you go. ”
“Well, then, Dom France co, I have this
da}’ sounded the people, and have found that
the}’ are all of the same mind as myself. 011
hearing me pronounce the sacred name of
liberty every heart beat with hope, every
arm was raised toward heaven, and every
eye shot forth fire. You as',: me what guar
antees I have of victory. You have heard,
and I wish for no others.”
“Go on!” said tho monk, with a throbbing
heart
“I have but to make a sign, and thousands
of lazaroni and fishermen will instantl}* arise
and rush, lino a burning volcano, wherever
1 lead them.”
“Is this a dream?”
“To-morrow,” continued Masaniello, “Na
ples will be tree!”
“But where did 3-ou harangue tho people?’
“On the harbor, after the viceroy’s infa
mous act of treachery.”
Dom Francesco listened attentively to tho
brief account which Masaniello gave him of
what had taken place. The old man rose up,
and taking Masaniello by the hand, said:
“I havf carefully weighed every one of
your words, and 1 declare that you aro jus
tified in what }*ou are doing.”
“Then you approve of our project, father?”
“Yes.”
“Alas!.” said Masaniello, in a voice full o?
emotion, “I was near betraying it, father.”
“What do 1 hear? - ’ exclaimed tho monk.
“A woman—a woman whom 1 love—im
plored me, ou her knees, to abandon the
undertaking. Her tears made me waver for
an instant; but, heaven be praised, in}’ love
of libert}’ prevailed, and to-morrow will see
me, perhaps, contending hand in hand with
her father, for she is a Spaniard and he an
ofleer in the vicero}’’s army. Max’ heaven
will it otherwise! But the people havo
named me their leader; so long live Naples
and liberty 1”
“And now, my son,” said Dom Francesco,
pressing Masaniello to his heart, “what arc
you going to doT
“At present 1 am going to tho catacombs,
whore my associates are waiting for me.”
“i will accompany you.”
“Come, then, father,” said Masauiello,
“and you shall bless our poniards.”
“But what measures have you taken to in
sure yourself and your companions a safe re
treat, if s’ our place of rendezvous were dis
covered ami surrounded by soldiers/”
“None.”
“Imprudent manl But follow me, I will
be your guide.”
Dom Francesco, followed by the fisherman,
left his cell, traversed the cloister, passed by
the chapel, and stopped at last at the top of a
tLrfnp staircase, which apj>eared to lose itself
in the depths of the earth.
“But where would you lead rn* to, holy
father/” asked Masaniello.
Before replying, the Benedictine drew from
beneath his dress a steel, a flint and a key ;
then, taking Masaniello Jby the arm, ho went
down twoutj' steps, and stopped before a
massive iron door, which, on applying the
key to it, turned heavily on its hinges. Then
the monk said:
“My son, the catacombs of Naples have
four different outlets. One of them is in the
wood of Pausilippo; this is, doubtless, the
ono by which you were ull to enter.”
“It was.”
“The second is beneath the Caste 1 Nuovo;
the third is behind the choir of the Church
of St. Januarius. and the fourth is in the
convent of the Benedictines. You see that
Providence is with us. In ease of danger you
will be able to t ike refuge in the monestary,
and woe to your enemies if the}* follow you
into the intricacies of the labyrinth it forms.”
While speaking, Dom Francesco lighted
two torches which he took from ft hollow in
While speaking, Dom Francesco lighted two
torches.
the wall. The monk kept one} gave the other
to Masaniello, and continued his way with
the fisherman, having first taken the precau
tion to tie at the beginning of the passage
the end of a ball of string which unwound
itself as they advanced.
“This new thread of Ariadne, my son, will
insure your safety if the viceroy’s troops
block up the outlet of Pausilippo.”
“It is but too true, father,” said Masani
ello, “that wo are surrounded by dangers.
To-morrow, or even this very night, I may
fall. If I do,” continued he, “promise mo
that you will bless the union of my sister
Jeanne with Pietro.”
The monk pressed the young man’s hand
and silently dried a tear.
After walking for about half an hour a
distant murmur fell upon their cars.
“ ’Tis they!” said Masaniello.
“You told them to assemble, then, in the
rotunda of Diocletian?”
“I did, father.”
“In that case, turn to the right,” said the
monk.
A minute afterward they were in a sort of
gigantic chamber, dug in the rock, and the
walls of which were covered with stalactites
that matte them sparkle in the torch light as
if they were walls of diamonds. There wero
assembled all tho fishermen and lazaroni
whom Masaniello had harangued the day be
fore on the harbor. When the young man
appeared a joyful clamor arose oil all sides.
“It is he!” #
“It is our young leader!”
“Long live Masaniello 1”
Such wero the greetings with which he was
welcomed by the ragged men who filled the
subterranean chamber.
Masaniello mounted on a large stone which
was in the middle of tho place. Both fisher
men and lazaroni formed a circle round him,
and the greatest silence immediately pre
vailed.
“Comrades,” said Masaniello, “did you all
take different roads as I recommended you?”
“Yes, wo obeyed your orders.”
“Are you suro that there are no spies
among us?”
“Fear nothing; we all know one another.”
“Let those who have arms draw near.”
Ten men came forward, some with pikes
and tho others with arquebuses or partisans.
“Place yourselves,” said Masaniello, “at
tho entrance to the catacombs, and let none
force their way in, except over your bodies.”
Then, pointing to the monk, who was
standing on his right, ho added:
“There, my friends, is my master; there is
the master of us all.”
“lie is! he is!” exclaimed several voices.
“YV r c know him!”
“It is Dom Francesco!”
“The triend of the people!”
“Long live the Benedictine!”
“it was not I,” continued the young man,
“whom you applauded yesterday on the har
bor; i was but the echo of this holy man, to
whom 1 owe the little instruction 1 possess,
it was he who spoke to you through me.”
“Long live Dom Francesco!” cried ail
present.
“it is true, my dear brethren,” said tho
old man, “that to see you happy has been my
hope through life, the aim of my studies. I
have spent my long career in pleading your
cause and defending your rights. Like tho
Hebrews in the land of Egypt, you havo
toiled for greedy despoilers, who grow fat on
your substance and drink your tears. But
another Moses has arisen to shako from off
you the yoke of Pharaoh, and to iead you to
the promised land of liberty.”
These words wero received with cries of
enthusiasm,
“Liberty forever!"
“Liberty we’ll hqvel”
“No more fetters!”
“No more taxes!”
“No more suffering!”
“Liberty! liberty forever!”
On a sign from Masaniello silence was re
stored.
“Yes, Neapolitans, you shall be free, I
swear it!” exclaimed he, with fire. “Tho
struggle will be a desperate oue, and thero
will be many of us turned into martyrs; aro
you, therefore, prepared to fight to the
death?”
“We are!”
“If I have no arms to give you, will you
even then confront the troups of the viceroy
without trembling?”
“Wo will!”
“And the guns of hir fortresses?”
“Wewiil?”
‘A and the arquebus?* of his guardsT 1
-We will wi-st them from their blood
smimd hand t”
“Will you come with me to break down
the gates of the Yicaria and dictate to the
duke of Arcos tho orders of the victorious
people/”
“We will!”
“Then let every one approach and take the
oath.”
Two men brought a Bible and a crucifix to
the monk. Then all the conspirators ap
proached in turn, and kneeling on one knee
and placing a hand on tho cross, repeated the
fo.lowing oath:
“In the presence of the blessed Redeemer,
and on the Holy Bible, I swear to defend,
until death, the rights of the i>eople of Naples
and to obey our leader, Masaniello.”
When they had all taken tho oath Masani
ello exclaimed:
“My friends, draw your poniards,”
The daggers hid beneath the rags of the
lazaroni and the jackets of the fishermen
immediately gleamed over the heads of all.
[TO hi: CONTINUED]
YOUli EAKS
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Knoxville, Tenn.. July 2. 18872^
IMI)H Willi ii 11 hi i ' ' 'ii ii "T 'i * *-*•"* 7'- - '*v-"**
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A DOOK OF WONDERS, FREE. "
All who desire full information about
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