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 THE BRIGHT TO-MORROW 
 
 By WALLACE J. HARDING, Esq.
 
 — Railways, postages — in a word, all the numerous facilities of 
 the age — have almost annihilated distance, and, as a natural result, 
 caused an individual trade between country customers and London 
 establishments. Those who do not visit town, so as to select and 
 purchase directly, send for patterns from which they can give their 
 orders. But as all apparent advantages on the one hand have 
 more or less their corresponding drawbacks, so this system is not 
 without its bane. Pushing tradesmen make a market by offering 
 goods at lower rates than they can possibly be sold at to realise a 
 fair profit. The bait traps the unreflective, and the result is that 
 the receipts en masse are not equal to the tempting samples. There 
 is no new invention in this ; it has been practised in wholesale 
 merchandise and by candidates for contracts, as the proverb hath 
 it, since there were hills and valleys. But we grieve to add it is 
 sometimes resorted to by those whom one would credit for more 
 integrity. Ladies, therefore, need exercise caution, and place 
 confidence only in houses of old-established fame, for rapidly-made 
 businesses are not generally reliable. And to what does this asser- 
 tion amount more than to the fact that nothing great can be 
 effected not only without labour but without time, and that Eome 
 was not built, as the old saying says, in a day ? Messrs. Jay, of 
 Eegent-street, whose name is well known amongst the few on the 
 list of lonafide establishments in the metropolis, are about to adopt 
 a plan (which will be registered) for assisting country ladies in 
 choosing for themselves London fashions and fabrics. And their 
 customers may rest assured that they will thus be enabled to obtain 
 goods of every quality, both low and high priced, at the most 
 reasonable terms — that is, the terms of small profits for quick 
 returns— and that they may firmly rely upon the thoroughly 
 corresponding character of samples and supplies. — From the 
 Court Journal, April 27, 1867.
 
 BEOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 BY 
 
 FEANK TEOLLOPE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 An Old Man's Secret," "The Eival Doctor's," "A Eight 
 luinded Woman," &c. 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHEK, 
 
 30, WELBECE STEEET, CAVENiJiSH SQUAEE. 
 
 18GS. 
 
 [all rights bkseevbd.]
 
 Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 
 University of Illinois Urbana-Champaign 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/brokenfettersnov01trol
 
 ■n(^3b 
 
 BEOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 
 CHAPTEE I. 
 
 ~ The towers or castles dotting the banks of 
 
 ^the Ehine are as familiar to most tourists, and, 
 
 ^ perhaps, more so, than many of the pleasantly 
 
 ^. situated villas on the banks of the Thames : 
 
 i we shall not, therefore, weary our readers by 
 
 <^ describing the scenery near and around the 
 
 Kold grey tower of Lichenberg, which, rather 
 
 ^^more than a century ago, was the residence 
 
 ^ of one of the descendents of its ancient lords. 
 
 v^This tower may still be seen about a mile 
 
 ;^ distant from the famous castle of Rolandseck, 
 
 ^ and on the opposite bank the Old Drachenfels, 
 
 VOL. 1. B
 
 2 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 SO lauded by Byron. It is but little changed 
 in appearance, since it was inhabited by one 
 of those robber nobles who levied toll and 
 tax upon the waters of the Ehine. 
 
 The Tower of Lichenberg, though at no 
 time equal in size or grandeur to either 
 Eolandseck or Drachenfels, was of consider- 
 able extent. It is not, however, our inten- 
 tion to carry our readers back to the period 
 when it was in its glory — our tale is of more 
 modern date. 
 
 This tower was assuredly neither a very 
 commodious nor a very desirable habitation, 
 notwithstanding the magnificence of the 
 scenery by which it was surrounded, for it 
 stood amid ruined walls, covered with ivy 
 and creeping plants, broken ramparts, huge 
 beams, and timbers rotten with age : to 
 add to these mementos of the past, the rock, a 
 precipitous mount, on which these ruins stood, 
 required stout legs and good lungs to ascend, 
 and careful steps to descend ; for neither its 
 former nor its present possessor had taken the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. o 
 
 least pains in mending, improving, or repair- 
 ing the crooked or steep path, leading to its 
 entrance. 
 
 The ruins contained, at this period, four 
 habitable chambers — viz., a kitchen, tolerably 
 well stocked with culinary articles, under the 
 charge of a very old woman, who looked as 
 grey and grim as the old place itself; a 
 chamber over the kitchen, which served as 
 dining, drawing, and breakfast room ; and two 
 other rooms higher up, converted into bed- 
 rooms, which were reached by a narrow cir- 
 cular stair. 
 
 In the dining-room, seated before a blazing 
 log fire, on a bitter cold day in the month of 
 December, was a young man of about twenty 
 years of age. His well-set and well-shaped 
 limbs were stretched out to court the cheer- 
 ful blaze ; his head rested on his hand, and 
 his elbow on a table covered with books and 
 musical instruments. He was deep in 
 thought, looking steadily at the blazing log, 
 
 B 2
 
 4 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 and to judge from his countenance, his 
 thoughts were none of the pleasantest. 
 
 This room was a strange looking place, and 
 strangely furnished ; it was unlike our 
 modern rooms — it was circular, with one 
 very large window, filled with remarkably 
 small diamond-shaped pieces of glass let into 
 leaden frame . 
 
 Covering the walls was some very elaborate 
 and curious old tapestry, and upon the tapes- 
 try hung articles of a very heterogeneous cha- 
 racter — here a curious piece of chain armour, 
 surmounted by a remarkable casque, belong- 
 ing to one of the old chieftains of the castle, 
 and shaped liked the beak of a huge bird ; 
 next to it was suspended the portrait of a 
 lady, in a massive and tarnished frame; then 
 a very antique cross-bow, over a ponderous 
 matchlock, which at the period it was used 
 could not have been a very formidable 
 weapon, for in ninety-nine cases out of a 
 hundred, the individual aimed at would have
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. O 
 
 assuredly escaped unscathed. Then came 
 sundry fishing-rods, ancient and modern; one 
 or two formidable looking horse pistols, a 
 couple of short carbines, a rusty spear, nets 
 of singular shapes, a shelf, on which were 
 arranged thirty or forty volumes of works of 
 the period, a cabinet of antique shape and 
 richly ornamented, a round table and five 
 chairs, all of venerable age, which completed 
 the ornaments and furniture of the chamber. 
 
 After a few uneasy turnings in his chair, 
 the youth, probably tired of his train of 
 thought, arose and went direct to the case- 
 ment, which he opened, and gazed anxiously 
 out upon the wintry scene around. He was 
 tall and graceful, with every appearance of 
 activity combined with strength. He was 
 simply, though handsomely, clad in a hunt- 
 ing suit of dark green, the jacket braided 
 closely with black cord, and the collar and 
 edges trimmed with the fur of the squirrel. 
 
 Leaning on the window-sill, he looked 
 down upon the foaming waters of the Rhine,
 
 O BROKEN FETTEES. 
 
 for the wind blew heavily against the rapid 
 stream of the river, forming mimic crests to 
 its short waves — looking like the ocean in 
 miniature. Two or three of those strange 
 looking crafts which to this day navigate the 
 waters of the Ehine, but little changed in 
 form or rig, were ploughing their way up the 
 stream, glorying in the gale that enabled their 
 bluff bows to breast the current. 
 
 The Towers of Drachenfels, despite the 
 power of the wind, were wrapt in mist. The 
 summits of the hills lining each side of the 
 river, forming an avenue, were covered witli 
 a recent fall of snow, and the fierce gusts as 
 they howled around the craggy mount, on 
 which the old tower stood, beat against the 
 face of the youth with an icy dullness . 
 
 It was, in truth, a cheerless scene at that 
 period of the year ; and the young man, clos- 
 ing the casement, returned to the pleasant 
 heat of the log fire. He had scarcely seated 
 himself ere a heavy foot was heard ascending 
 the stairs. The door opened, admitting a
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 7 
 
 tall and stately figure, enveloped in a mantle, 
 which was covered with snow, giving evi- 
 dence of having been for some hours exposed 
 to the fury of the storm raging without. 
 
 " Ha ! my dear uncle,'* cried the youth, 
 rising quickly from his chair, " I am delighted 
 to see you. I have been looking for you up 
 and down the river the whole morning, for I 
 was not certain which route you would take, 
 but excepting two heavy crafts labouring up 
 the stream, not a boat have I seen." 
 
 " I came neither up nor down the stream, 
 Otho," said the stranger, returning the hearty 
 clasp of the youth's hand, casting aside his 
 dripping mantle, and seating himself by the 
 cheerful blaze. '' You cannot think how re- 
 joiced I am to see you so much sooner than I 
 expected." 
 
 Divested of his mantle, the stranger pre- 
 sented to view a noble and princely figure. 
 He was in an undress military habit, wearing 
 several orders on his breast, decorations be-
 
 8 BROKEN FKrrERS. 
 
 stowed for good and valiant services in 
 various courts. 
 
 This noble-looking man was uncle to the 
 Count Otho de Briesbach, the name and title 
 of the young man; he was, at this period 
 of his very remarkable life, in his forty-fourth 
 year, and was known throughout Europe by 
 the name of Theodore Baron Newhoff. We 
 have said his figure was noble ; his features 
 were good, and their expression pleasing, ex- 
 cept when immersed in deep thought ; then 
 his brow was contracted, and a strange shade 
 passed over his otherwise handsome coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 Possessed of a peculiar eloquence, through- 
 out the whole of his eventful and extraordi- 
 nary career, he carried out projects which 
 others, with tenfold his means and advantages, 
 would never have dreamed of achieving. 
 
 With respect to the Baron's early years, 
 little was positively known, but it was ascer- 
 tained to a certainty that he was born in the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 9 
 
 county of La Monk, in Westphalia, and re- 
 ceived a military education in the French, 
 service. In Spain he was much noticed by 
 Cardinal Alberoni, but ever thirsting after 
 change of scene, or strongly imbued with the 
 spirit of adventure, he roamed through Italy, 
 England, and Holland. He had an only rela- 
 tive — a sister, to whom he was devotedly 
 attached. She accompanied him during one 
 of his rambles into Germany, and there her 
 beauty and accomplishments gained her the 
 hand of Count Otho de Briesbach, who, at 
 that period, possessed very considerable pro- 
 perty. 
 
 After his sister's marriage, Baron Newhoff, 
 ever restless, travelled into Turkey, and was 
 not heard of for several years. 
 
 The marriage of his sister proved most un- 
 fortunate, and she became very unhappy. 
 
 The Count de Briesbach had an only 
 brother, who inherited from a distant relation 
 the title and vast estates of Hammerstein. To 
 please this relative, the young de Briesbach 
 
 B 5
 
 10 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 was educated and reared as a Eoman 
 Catholic, and on succeeding to the title and 
 estates, became very bigoted, totally estrang- 
 ing himself from his brother and family. 
 
 The Baron de Hammerstein married early 
 in life, a lady of large fortune, and of the 
 same religion as himself Their only family 
 consisted of two sons. 
 
 The estates of the Baron de Hammerstein 
 were on the borders of the Rhine, nearly 
 opposite the Castle of Drachenfels, extending 
 several miles into the interior. 
 
 The property of the Count de Briesbach 
 was also on the borders of the Ehine, adjoin- 
 ing that of his brother, and included several 
 castles and towers of celebrity. 
 
 The Count de Briesbach had but one child, 
 the youth introduced in the opening of this 
 chapter. 
 
 We have intimated that the marriage of 
 Baron NewhofPs sister was an unhappy one ; 
 deceived by a handsome person and an in- 
 sinuating manner, she had married hastily.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 11 
 
 Her brother, as was his wont, was at the 
 time restless and dissatisfied ; and anxious for 
 his sister^ s future establishment, never en- 
 quired into the Count's character, satisfied by 
 the knowledge that he bore a noble name, 
 and had a fine property. Had he looked 
 closer into the Count's affairs he would have 
 discovered that his estates were heavily 
 mortgaged, that he was a dissipated, reckless 
 man, a gambler, and leading a vicious life. 
 
 Anxious to remove her beloved son from 
 the evil examples of his father, the Countess 
 de Briesbach had the boy, at the age of ten, 
 placed in the College of Darmstadt. He 
 had been only two years at College, when it 
 was his misfortune to lose his beloved and 
 amiable mother, who had been attacked by 
 a malignant fever, and died within four and 
 twenty hours. 
 
 The Count de Briesbach, immersed in 
 dissipation, his fortune fast fading away, 
 scarcely gave a thought to his son, but let 
 him remain where his mother had placed him.
 
 12 BROKKN FETTERS. 
 
 At tills period Baron NcwlioiT uiiexpectcclly 
 rctiiriuHl to Germany. Astonished and 
 shocked at fnidin<;' his mnch loved sister 
 dead, lie enqvilred after the Count and his 
 son. The former he learned was In Paris, 
 sunk In viee and debauehery ; the hitter at 
 the Colleixe of Darmstadt. 
 
 PIsgiisted and enrai^ed witli the eonduct 
 of the Count, lie sought his nephew at the 
 CoHege. lie clasped tlie boy to his heart, 
 vowing througli life never to desert or 
 iicgleet lilm. He took him tor a tour through 
 German V and \\'estphalla tor a tew months, 
 during whu'li time uneh^ and ne})how beeame 
 greatly attaehod to eaeh other. At'ter a lew 
 mouths tlio youth returned to CoHege. 
 
 '^^Fhe r>aron tluMi eonnueneed euipiiries re- 
 s])eetlng the Count, and the due propertv lie 
 ouL'v possessed ; \\c tried to asci-rtaln to what 
 extent it was Involved, but was uusueeesst'ul 
 In gaining any rt^'llable Inloruuulon. His 
 uv\i stop was io i}^o to Haris, where lie was 
 shocked to find the onee hamlsome and ihs-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 13 
 
 cinating Count de Briesbach stretclied ou a 
 couch, dying from a wound he had received 
 in a duel, the result of a quarrel in a 
 notorious gambling house, with an Italian 
 adventurer of the name of Vachero, who had 
 won a large sum of money from him. 
 Vachero had fled, no one knew whither. 
 
 The Count de Briesbach lived several 
 days after the arrival of the Baron, but in so 
 weak a state as to be totally unable to give 
 any accurate account of how his property 
 was involved. In fact his whole thoughts 
 and feelings centred in passionate repinings in 
 not having killed his adversary, who he 
 declared had plundered him of large sums of 
 money unfairly. At the last hour, a thought 
 of his poor boy flashed across his brain, and 
 he bitterly accused himself of his wickedness 
 and folly in having robbed him of his inherit- 
 ance, and was only to be pacified by the 
 Baron's solemn promise of taking the youth 
 to his heart and never forsaking him. 
 
 Baron Newhoff returned to Germany and
 
 14 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 commenced active investigations into the 
 Count's affairs; after weeks of tedious exami- 
 nation, lie found the liabilities would swal- 
 low up all he had possessed with the excep- 
 tion of the little domain of Lichenberg, which 
 comprised the solitary old tower and as much 
 land surrounding it as would produce about 
 two hundred pounds per year. 
 
 Having paid all the debts and claims against 
 the estate, Baron Newhoff repaired the tower, 
 and furnished it as we have described, and 
 actually determined to live in it for some years, 
 and undertake the education of the young 
 Otho. The result of the tuition of the eccen- 
 tric Baron was that at the age of eighteen the 
 Baron declared that there was not a man in 
 the Palatinate that could stand before him for 
 ten minutes with the small or broad sword ; 
 he could hit a crow, flying, with his rifle; 
 strike a crown-piece four times out of five at 
 fifteen paces with a pistol, and wrestle any man 
 of his weight in Germany, 
 
 Otho laughed at these boastings of his kind
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 15 
 
 and warm-liearted uncle, though he assuredly 
 excelled in all field sports and martial exer- 
 cises. The young man pursued his studies 
 with considerable ardour ; he alternately read, 
 hunted, fished, and rambled amid the glorious 
 scenery of the Rhine. He was just twenty 
 when his uncle received some letters, which 
 he declared would completely change the cur- 
 rent of their lives. 
 
 " I shall be away, my dear boy, a whole 
 year. I can't tell you where I am going ; 
 but when I return we must quit this grim old 
 place and mix in the world. You were born 
 for other things beside the sports of the field, 
 or poring over musty volumes. Amuse your- 
 self during my absence." Without another 
 word the Baron departed, on his mysterious 
 journey. 
 
 Twelve months had passed when Otho 
 received a letter, da^ed from Venice ; it merely 
 said — 
 
 " Look out for me on such a day." The 
 day came, and with it, as we have seen, the 
 Baron, to the great joy of his nephew.
 
 16 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 The Baron and his nephew were seated 
 before the cheerful blaze of the log fire, the 
 table between them. They had just dined, 
 and a flask or two of good old Johannissberg 
 and a couple of antique drinking cups graced 
 the table. The only light was that emitted 
 from the dry logs ; but there was a certain 
 degree of comfort in the chamber, with its 
 quaint furniture and decorations of ancient 
 and modern arms, especially when the gale 
 that raged without howled against the case- 
 ment and roared amid the ruined walls that 
 encircled the tower. 
 
 " I have never yet heard," said the young 
 man, filling: his uncle's cup and his own, " I
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 17 
 
 have never yet heard the reason, or rather the 
 cause, of the great dislike of the Baron de 
 Hammerstein to my father ; and, indeed, I 
 may say to myself. I certainly never can 
 have offended him, for to my knowledge, I 
 never saw him." 
 
 " To a disposition and temper like your 
 uncle's, there was cause enough, Otho," re- 
 turned the Baron ; " and before I speak of our 
 plans for the future, I will give you a brief 
 outline of the causes of this aversion ; and I 
 am sorry to tell you I cannot say much to 
 the credit of your poor father in my short 
 sketch. 
 
 " There was not more than fourteen months 
 between the ages of the two brothers ; they 
 were both fine, handsome boys, at the age of 
 thirteen or fourteen, but diametrically oppo- 
 site in temper and habits. Your father was a 
 bold, reckless boy ; your uncle of a timid, re- 
 tiring, and melancholy temperament. One 
 day the two lads were rambling together, 
 amid the ruins of an old castle near the man-
 
 18 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 sion. Your father had climbed to the summit 
 of a very dangerous tower in search of an 
 owl's nest. Your uncle refused to mount 
 after him, till, being taunted with cowardice 
 and other reproaches of timidity and effemi- 
 nacy, your uncle contrived to ascend; and 
 when your father got him there, he swung 
 himself down by the branch of a tree, stretch- 
 ing its branches close to the walls, and laugh- 
 ingly dared his brother to follow his example. 
 Unfortunately, your uncle attempted to do 
 so, but either from want of spirit or skill in 
 catching the branch, he missed it, and fell to 
 the ground. His shoulder was dislocated, and 
 unskilfully set ; and, in consequence, the poor 
 boy grew up deformed. This was the first 
 cause of offence, and your uncle never forgave 
 your father, his deformity rankled in his 
 heart. 
 
 " At the age of twenty-four, your uncle 
 was visiting a distant relation at Frankfort, 
 and there fell desperately in love with the 
 daughter of a wealthy citizen. This girl, I
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 19 
 
 have heard, was very beautiful, very wild, and 
 very ambitious. She wished ardently to 
 marry out of her own class, and listened 
 eagerly to the addresses of your uncle. Un- 
 fortunately, your father came to Frankfort 
 with the young Baron Von Konisberg, a 
 bosom friend of his, and one of the wildest 
 and most dissipated youths of Frankfort. 
 
 " Your father saw this citizen's daughter, 
 and whether from a spirit of mischief, 
 whether from love, or whether from any other 
 motive, I cannot say, but ere a month had 
 elapsed, he ran off with this frail fair one; 
 and, I regret to have to relate that only a 
 week afterwards, in crossing the Rhine, below 
 Cologne, the ferry-boat was upset in a violent 
 squall, and the unfortunate girl and seven 
 other persons perished ; the Count your father 
 escaping, with two others, by the merest 
 chance. 
 
 " The Baron de Hammerstein, two months 
 after that sad event, succeeded to the title 
 and large estates bequeathed to him by a
 
 20 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 distant relative, to descend in a direct male 
 line. Determined that none of his brother's 
 family should have a chance of inheriting this 
 property, he married, not more than a year 
 after, a young lady of birth and fortune, but 
 extremely plain in person and features. He 
 has now two sons, both fine young men. 
 
 " Your uncle's estates and wealth have, 
 from parsimony and a love of accumulation, 
 become the largest and finest in this country. 
 
 " You see, Otho, I have entirely confined 
 myself to matters of fact. I have avoided such 
 comments or remarks, as would now be use- 
 less. Your uncle's eldest son is, I hear, to be 
 united to a lady of birth and fortune, in about 
 ten or twelve months' time, so your chance of 
 the inheritance is very slight indeed." 
 
 " In truth, uncle," said Otho, laughing ; 
 " I never for an instant ever dreamt or 
 thought of such an occurrence. In fact, I do 
 not thirst half as much after wealth as I do 
 to see a little more of the world than is to be 
 seen from the top of this old tower."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 21 
 
 '' I intend that you should, my dear boy. 
 I have been waiting for what I considered the 
 proper time for you to commence your career 
 in the world, and with your abilities I hope 
 to see you win your way both to fame and 
 fortune. What say you, my lad, to a military 
 career, for a couple of years ? By that time 
 I shall have matured a project, that will, I 
 trust, secure to you and your descendants a 
 brilliant destiny ?" 
 
 Otho looked into the animated features of 
 the Baron with some surprise. He had 
 studied, young as he was, his uncle's disposi- 
 tion and character with considerable penetra- 
 tion. He knew his high spirit, his love of 
 adventure, and restless ambition. He also 
 felt certain that he was not a man to rest 
 satisfied with the usual career of men in his 
 station and with his fortune, but that he 
 aimed at achieving some destiny beyond the 
 common. He was also aware of his high 
 military skill and abilities as a commander; 
 for he had perused letters to the Baron from
 
 22 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 distinguished generals and even princes, in 
 which most liberal proposals were made to 
 induce him to serve in their armies. Restless 
 and dissatisfied, Baron Newhoff was ever 
 seeking after something — he scarcely knew 
 what — his ambition coveted ; but whatever it 
 was he now considered himself on the high 
 road to attain it. 
 
 The Baron had fought at the celebrated 
 siege of Corfu, under the standard of the 
 Saxon Count SchuUemburg, a general who 
 won immortal renown by baffling the utmost 
 efforts of the Swedish Charles, even when in 
 his full career of victory, and from that re- 
 nowned general he had received the greatest 
 encomiums for his skill and almost reckless 
 courage, united with an untiring perseve- 
 rance, at the same time offering him a dis- 
 tinguished command. 
 
 Otho, wondering what his uncle's projects 
 might be, replied, 
 
 " No other profession would be so con- 
 genial to my feelings as a military one.''
 
 BKOKEN FETTEES. 23 
 
 "I knew so — I knew so," replied the 
 Baron, with evident pleasure. 
 
 '' But what shall we do with the old tower, 
 uncle ? Shall it be shut up, and the lands 
 left to the care of a bailiff?" 
 
 *'No; I can manage better than that, my 
 lad,'^ returned the Baron. " In travelling 
 from Venice here, I stopped for a few days at 
 Mayence, and there met an old friend, the 
 Count de Manheim, who, in the course of 
 conversation, told me he had purchased your 
 father's property on the Ehine, adjoining this, 
 from the Jew to whom it had been mort- 
 gaged." 
 
 *' How strange !" said Otho, with a sigh. 
 
 " The Count asked me,'' continued the 
 uncle, not heeding his nephew's sigh, "if you 
 would sell the property." 
 
 ''What would he give for the whole — 
 tower and land surrounding it ?" 
 
 " He told me he would give six thousand 
 pounds for it, or an annuity chargeable on
 
 24 
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the whole of the property he had purchased, 
 of three hundred and fifty pounds." 
 
 " Is not the Counf s offer a liberal one ?^' 
 asked Otho. 
 
 " Yes, I think it not only liberal, but a 
 most advantageous one ; and I strongly 
 advise your taking the annuity, for at the 
 present moment I doubt if we could let the 
 tower and land for more than two hundred a 
 year. Now, my lad, with the three hundred 
 and fifty and a couple of hundred T can add 
 to it — although I am not very rich, and 
 somewhat extravagant — with five hundred 
 and fifty pounds a year, and a little manage- 
 ment, you may make a respectable figure in 
 the army, and not be ashamed of your old 
 and distinguished name, and—" 
 
 " I can do all that on three hundred and 
 fifty, without depriving you, dear uncle, of 
 the extra two hundred." 
 
 " My dear boy," cried the Baron, with a 
 hearty laugh, '' you know about as much of
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 25 
 
 the value of money as a nun does of a 
 husband ; therefore say not another word on 
 that point, and let me have my way. Are 
 you satisfied with Manheim^s offer ?'' 
 
 " Quite," said Otho ; *' it is extremely liberal. 
 But there is a difficulty which I never thought 
 of till this moment.'' 
 
 ^'Whatis that?" 
 
 '' Why, what to do with poor old Terese." 
 
 " I have provided for her," said the Baron. 
 '' She and her husband are to remain to take 
 care of the old tower, which the Count told 
 me, if you accepted his offer, would be con- 
 verted into a handsome hunting lodge ; for he 
 has purchased the entire range of forest ex- 
 tending inland to D . He has two sons 
 
 and three daughters." 
 
 " Well, uncle, now that I have no other 
 difficulty to overcome," said Otho, " when, 
 and nnder whom, am I to comiijcnce my mili- 
 tary career?" 
 
 " You must serve as a volunteer, for such is 
 the fashion of the times, as many of our young 
 
 VOL. 1. C
 
 26 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 nobility do. I do not wish you to accept a 
 commission, even should one be offered you, 
 and your gallantry deserve it — and of that I 
 make no doubt." 
 
 Otho smiled at what he deemed his uncle's 
 enthusiasm. 
 
 " Yes, quite right, my lad," continued the 
 Baron ; " for I see by your smile you doubt 
 my prophecy. It fortunately happens, that 
 at this moment there is a brilliant opportu- 
 nity for your first essay in arms. Unfortunate 
 Italy is now selected as the field for the deci- 
 sion of a quarrel caused by a dispute in the 
 election of a king of Poland. Emmanuel the 
 Third, the new king of Sardinia, has joined 
 the formidable confederacy of the Bourbon 
 dynasty against the House of Austria. I had 
 the advantage of a personal acquaintance with 
 Charles Emmanuel before he came to the 
 throne, by the singular and unfortunate caprice 
 of his father, Victor Amadeus, who abdicated/' 
 
 " Charles Emmanuel," interrupted Otho, 
 *' has sullied his reputation by his frightful in-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 27 
 
 gratitude to his old father, a subject which is 
 bruited abroad, and is the common conversa- 
 tion. His cruelty to his parent is in every- 
 body's mouth." 
 
 "My dear boy/' said the Baron, with a 
 smile, " you can be no judge of the actions of 
 kings. Emmanuel was wrong as a son, but per- 
 fectly right as a king. The old king, after his 
 abdication, was wrong headed enough to marry 
 his mistress, the widow of the Count di San 
 Sebastiano, an exceedingly ambitious woman. 
 She aimed at being a queen, and induced the 
 ex-king, like a child longing for a bauble, to 
 ask again for his crown. Now a king who 
 dethrones himself only offers an allurement 
 for neglect and ingratitude. No arm and 
 scarcely a voice was raised in his defence, 
 and he returned to his wife in despair." 
 
 " Perhaps," said Otho, thoughtfully, " his 
 son had a right to retain the crown he held ; 
 but, to my mind, nothing can justify his out- 
 rageously taking his father from his bed in 
 the dead of the night and placing him and 
 
 c 2
 
 28 
 
 BROKEN FETTEKS. 
 
 his wife in rigorous confinement at Eivoli. 
 It is now reported that the old monarch is 
 dead.'' 
 
 " He is dead," said the Baron, with a 
 thoughtful expression of countenance; " peace 
 to his ashes ! He was a great and a good 
 man, and a brave soldier. His son promises 
 to rival his warlike father, and under one of 
 his generals, an old brother soldier of mine, I 
 wish jou to serve." 
 
 Uncle and nephew remained till a late 
 hour of the night talking over their plans, 
 and settling the route they would take in order 
 to reach Turin. 
 
 In two days everything was arranged to 
 their satisfaction, and with some feelings of 
 regret, they left the old Tower and proceeded 
 to Frankfort, for the purpose of settling the 
 sale of Otho's property, and having the 
 requisite documents drawn up, signed, properly 
 attested, &c. 
 
 A fortnight was very agreeably spent in 
 the pleasant old town of Frankfort, after
 
 BROKEN FETTEES, 29 
 
 which, being anxious to reach head quarters 
 before the commencement of hostilities, thej 
 proceeded at once to Turin, where they 
 arrived without adventure of any descrip- 
 tion.
 
 30 BKOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE III. 
 
 Two years have elapsed since tlie events re- 
 corded in the last chapter. It was a fine 
 evening in the month of April when a horse- 
 man might be seen quietly pursuing his way 
 on the great public road from Turin to Novi i 
 the latter named place being about two 
 leagues distant from the former. The horse- 
 man was the young Count de Briesbach. Two 
 years' active service, under the banner of the 
 Sardinian king, had greatly improved the 
 Count, both in person and mind. 
 
 The short campaign had been a brilliant 
 series of victories. Charles Emmanuel had 
 rapidly overrun the country of the Milanese,
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 31 
 
 and victory succeeded victory. Baron de 
 Newhoff had introduced his nephew to his 
 friend, the General ; and twice during the war 
 the young Count had distinguished himself so 
 signally as even to attract the notice of the 
 kino^. Attached to a favourite remment of 
 horse, at the battle of Buffalora, the cavalry 
 had to cross a most dangerous ford in the face 
 of a furious cannonade ; the waters of the 
 Adda being at the time greatly swollen, and 
 the stream very rapid. The captain of the 
 troop and several men were killed by a can- 
 non ball as they approached the brink of 
 the river. 
 
 Charles Emmanuel, mounted on his famous 
 white charger, and surrounded by a brilliant 
 staff, was stationed on a slight mound above 
 the river, looking on and directing the move- 
 ments of the troops, the regiment, in which our 
 hero served as a volunteer, after the death of 
 their captain, hesitated to take the water, 
 under so tremendous a fire, and so rapid a 
 stream ; Otho, seeing them turn their horses'
 
 32 p;kokkn fetters. 
 
 heads, rode boldly in front, and, carried away 
 by his enthusiasm and spirit, waved his sword 
 over Ills head, and, spurring his noble charger, 
 dashed into the stream, calling upon his com- 
 rades to follow him. Already a favourite, the 
 soldiers cheered, and, to a man, plunged into 
 the river, amid a rattling shower of balls, 
 gallantly crossed the stream, formed, charged 
 the battery that was defending the ford, and 
 drove the men from their guns. 
 
 '' Let me know the name of the man who 
 led the Ninth Eeofiment of Drao;oons across 
 the ford," said the king to one of his officers. 
 
 An aide-de-camp at that moment riding up, 
 whispered something to one of the officers 
 attending upon the king, who, immediately 
 approaching his Majesty, said, 
 
 " The Ninth Eegiment, your Majesty, was 
 led across the Adda by the young Count de 
 Briesbach, a volunteer in that reo;iment." 
 
 " Ha ! indeed," exclaimed the king. '' The 
 san:e youtli who so gallantly recovered the 
 colours at Novcira ;" and taking his ivory
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 33 
 
 tablets, the warlike monarch wrote down the 
 name of Otho de Briesbach. 
 
 The following day, General D pre- 
 sented Otho to the Sardinian monarch, who 
 not only received him graciously, but com- 
 plimented him very highly, and presented him 
 with a captain's commission in the regiment 
 he had served in from the commencement of 
 the campaign. 
 
 During the remainder of th^ war, the 
 Count de Briesbach distinguished himself on 
 several occasions, and at its termination ac- 
 companied his regiment to their station at 
 Turin. There he received letters from his 
 uncle, who had gone on one of his rambles, 
 immediately after introducing Otho to 
 
 General D^ . His uncle briefly informed 
 
 him that his projects were nearly perfected, 
 and that shortly he should be ready to com- 
 mence active operations. 
 
 " I have heard of you, Otho," he wrote, 
 " and of your gallantry, as well as of your ac- 
 cepting a commission from the Sardinian king. 
 
 c 5
 
 34 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 When I first wished you to serve as a volun- 
 teer, I did not think it would answer our 
 plans for you to bind yourself to the service 
 of Charles Emmanuel ; but before we parted, 
 I altered my views on that subject, and I re- 
 joice at your success. Give the enclosed note 
 
 to General D . It will, at once, procure 
 
 you leave of absence for one year. Leave 
 Turin immediately, and meet me in Genoa at 
 the latest by the first of May." 
 
 Otho was perplexed to know what mighty 
 plans were filling his uncle's brain ; never- 
 theless, he set about carrying out his 
 wishes, for he was most devotedly attached to 
 the Baron. Accordingly, having presented 
 the enclosed letter, and peace having been 
 proclaimed, he obtained the required leave, 
 and, mounting a very favourite horse, and 
 well-armed, but without an attendant, left 
 Turin, and took the road to Novi, intending to 
 cross the Bochetta to Genoa. 
 
 It was near the end of April. Otho de 
 Briesbach rode slowly and leisurely along,
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 35 
 
 for he had but six miles to travel. The even- 
 ing was delightful, and the scenery on each 
 side of him picturesque, and at times magni- 
 ficent. Halting his steed, on gaining the 
 summit of a hill, he turned round to look at 
 the lovely valley he had crossed, through 
 which ran the sparkling waters of a rapid 
 river. 
 
 A horseman was approaching from a bye 
 road ; Otho paid little attention to him at first, 
 till a fine, bold voice, singing a merry hunt- 
 ing song, caused him again to look at the gay 
 rider, who came rapidly nearer, still chanting 
 his song. When quite close to the Count, he 
 ceased singing, and stopped his horse — a fine 
 spirited animal. 
 
 " A splendid evening, signor," he said, 
 civilly, '' and this view is a glorious one. Are 
 you for Novi ? my way lies thither, and you 
 look like a pleasant companion for an hour's 
 ride. I hate being alone — no doubt you 
 heard me singing *, — I always sing or whistle 
 when I have no companion ; it beguiles the
 
 36 BKOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 T\-ay, clieers your horse, and prevents your 
 thoughts rambling upon unpleasant sub- 
 jects.'' 
 
 0th o cle Briesbach looked with some sur- 
 prise at his probable companion as far as 
 Novi, and smiled at the easy, cool manner in 
 which the stranger introduced himself. He was 
 a man about eight-and-twenty years of age, 
 middle height, muscular, and strongly built ; 
 his features were very handsome, but a reck- 
 less wild look about the eyes gave a fierce 
 expression to the countenance; his dark 
 moustache and black, bushy whiskers were 
 completely at variance with his bland tone 
 and careless manner. He was dressed in a 
 plain riding suit of dark brown, with high, 
 horseman's boots. He appeared to be un- 
 armed, and his saddle was without the usual 
 appendages — pistol holsters — of travellers of 
 that day. 
 
 Having scanned the appearance and dress 
 of the stranger, the Count replied, 
 
 " Yes, it is a fine evening, but very little
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 37 
 
 left of it," and putting spurs to liis horse was 
 off at a brisk pace. 
 
 " I know tlie road well," said the stranger, 
 keeping pace with the Count ; " and if, as I 
 imagine, jou are not well acquainted with 
 this part of the country, I will serve as your 
 guide as far as I am going. A mile from this 
 you will come upon the six great cross roads, 
 and they might readily puzzle anyone unac- 
 quainted with the situation of Novi. Do you 
 come from Turin, signor ?" 
 
 '' Yes." 
 
 '* Did you pass a travelling carriage, or 
 rather did one pass you, with four horses, two 
 outriders, and four armed attendants, with 
 two ladies inside and two on the seat be- 
 hind." 
 
 " No such vehicle has passed me," said the 
 Count. '' Pray what is the name of that 
 forest to our right ? It appears a very thick 
 and extensive one." 
 
 " It is the forest of Lemino, and is more 
 than fifteen miles in extent. It is a noble
 
 38 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 chase, and belongs to the Duke," replied the 
 stranger. 
 
 In a few minutes they were abreast of the 
 wood, when suddenly, from a close cluster of 
 evergreens, bordering the road, Rve men, in 
 tattered and soiled uniforms of white, and 
 armed with short carbines, made a rush at 
 the bridle reins of the two horsemen. The 
 Count's horse reared wildly, and spun round 
 on his hinder legs, thus avoiding being seized ; 
 but the traveller's, a chestnut horse, which 
 stood its ground without starting, was held 
 fast by one of the men, while another 
 endeavoured to pull its rider off its back. 
 
 " Hell and furies ! how is this," roared the 
 stranger, pulling a pistol from his vest, and 
 firing full in the face of the man who tugged 
 at his legs. The next instant he was un- 
 horsed, and was thrown to the ground, while 
 the man he had wounded, with a savage oath, 
 raised his carbine to his shoulder to shoot 
 him. 
 
 At that critical moment, the Count spurred
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 39 
 
 his horse amid the group, after receiving the 
 fire of two carbines, the ball of one knocking 
 his hat ofiP, and the other inflicting a trifling 
 wound on his left shoulder. Just at the 
 moment the stranger's destiny was on the 
 point of being decided, the Count fired, and 
 shot the ruffian dead. Nevertheless, though 
 the stranger sprung to his feet with an oath, a 
 blow from the butt of a carbine felled him to 
 the earth again. Otho, with his other pistol 
 in his hand, dashed at the remaining three. 
 They had no time to re-load, but they reso- 
 lutely stood their ground, ready to strike with 
 their carbines, when the tramp of horses and 
 the cracking of whips announced an ap- 
 proaching carriage. The robbers imme- 
 diately turned and fled into the wood. The 
 Count rode after them, but not liking to shoot 
 the villain nearest him, seized the fellow by 
 the collar, and, possessed of great strength, in 
 spite of the ruffian s curses and struggles, 
 lifted him fairly over the pommel of his sad- 
 dle, and held him there. Turning his horse's
 
 40 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 head, he rode back to where he had left the 
 stranger. 
 
 The road was no longer solitary ; a hand- 
 some travelling berlin, with four smoking 
 horses and two postillions, had halted upon 
 the spot. There were several attendants, two 
 of whom were lifting the dead bodies of the 
 robbers from the middle of the road ; another 
 was assisting the stranger to bind a hand- 
 kerchief across his head, which was bleeding 
 profusely. 
 
 In the carriage sat two ladies ; they were 
 leaning over the door apparently enquiring 
 about the stranger's hurts. They turned 
 round as the Count rode up, holding the 
 baffled robber, firmly on his saddle. The 
 light was fast fading, but the Count could 
 just perceive that the inmates of the carriage 
 were of rank, from the richness and elegance 
 of their travelling dresses. One appeared 
 much older than the other, who he fancied, 
 from the rapid glance he had of her features, 
 was a young and beautiful girl.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 41 
 
 " Good heavens!" exclaimed tlie elder of 
 the ladies, "he has taken one of the robbers," 
 and callino; to her attendants she desired them 
 to help the gentleman to secure the miscreant 
 and prevent his doing any farther mischief. 
 The Count having got rid of his burden, ap- 
 proached the carriage door. Saluting the 
 ladies, he said — 
 
 "To your timely arrival we owe our 
 safety/' 
 
 " You are very modest, signor," replied 
 the elder lady, looking with surprise into the 
 youthful and very handsome face of the 
 Count ; " after having killed two of those 
 marauders and capturing a third, you wish 
 to give us the merit, when in truth, but for 
 your gallantry, and being half-an-hour before 
 us, we should undoubtedly have been 
 attacked." 
 
 " You are too well attended, signora," re- 
 plied the Count, fixing his gaze for an instant 
 upon one of the loveliest faces he had ever 
 seen. The face was that of the girl whom
 
 42 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 he supposed to be tlie daughter of the elder 
 lady. 
 
 " Ha ! we are very formidable to look at," 
 said the elder lady with a smile, " but my 
 attendants would, I fear, be terrified at the 
 report of their own fire-arms. Your friend 
 appears badly wounded. If your road lies in 
 the direction of Novi, we shall be happy to 
 give him a seat thither in our carriage." 
 
 " I should rather have supposed him to be 
 a friend of yours, signora," replied Otho. 
 ''I only met him on the road about a mile 
 hence, and he made many enquiries concern- 
 ing you, for by the description he gave, I per- 
 ceive you are the party he spoke of." 
 
 '' Indeed !" said the lady, with a look of 
 surprise, '' it must be a mistake. I saw the 
 signer's countenance as my attendants lifted 
 him from the road ; but he is quite unknown 
 to us." 
 
 " I will see how he is, madame," said the 
 Count, ^' and bear him your kind offer." 
 
 Otho de Briesbach dismounted, and giving
 
 BKOKEN FETTERS. 43 
 
 his horse to one of the attendants to hold, 
 approached the stranger, who was sitting on 
 a green bank talking to one of the ladies' 
 attendants. 
 
 " I trust you are not much hurt," said the 
 Count. 
 
 " You are a fine fellow, and a gallant one, 
 too, by my soul," said the stranger, holding 
 out his hand, " I owe you my life, for by the 
 mass ! if you hadn't shot the rascal in the nick 
 of time, 1 might be now where many a better 
 man has gone.'' 
 
 " Those ladies beg me to say you are wel- 
 come to the use of a seat in their carriage to 
 Novi, if you feel too much hurt to keep your 
 saddle." 
 
 "Many thanks to the ladies," said the 
 stranger, muttering something to himself; 
 '' will you kindly say I feel well enough to 
 ride the three or four miles I have to go ? 
 especially if you, signor, will keep me com- 
 pany so far. The hurt is a mere nothing. I was 
 stunned and felt dizzy, but it is passing off/'
 
 44 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " I will most certainly keep you company 
 as far as Novl," replied the Count, " and 
 will tell the ladies to pursue their way/' 
 
 A loud shout and the report of a pistol 
 caused the Count to hurry towards the car- 
 riage. It was, however, caused by the 
 robber, who, profiting by the carelessness of the 
 attendants, had effected his escape, one of the 
 men firing his pistol at him without effect. 
 
 "Well, perhaps it is better that he has 
 escaped," said the elder lady to the Count 
 as he came up to the door of the carriage ; 
 " you would have had a considerable amount 
 of trouble if you had taken him before the 
 authorities at Novi ; but how is your travel- 
 ling companion?" 
 
 " He feels well enough, madame, to sit his 
 saddle, and returns you his thanks for your 
 obliging offer. We will not longer detain 
 you.'' 
 
 " Well, farewell for the present, signor ; 
 we may meet again at Novi. I stop at the 
 Aquila Nera, and if you enquire for the
 
 BROKEN FLTTEKS. 45 
 
 Countess de Sera, I shall be most bappj to 
 renew our short acquaintance.'* 
 
 The Count bowed, highly pleased, and ex- 
 pressed his thanks. The Countess requested 
 his name, and he gave it. 
 
 " It is singular,'' said the Countess, show- 
 ing pleasure on hearing his name, " that this 
 very morning I was speaking of you. For 
 the present, farewell ; but remember, you 
 must be my guest at supper." 
 
 The order being given to drive on, the 
 postillions cracked their whips, and in a 
 minute the cavalcade were on their way to 
 Novi.
 
 46 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE IV. 
 
 Otho de Briesbach, musing upon the last 
 words of the Countess, rejomed the stranger, 
 who was tightenmg the girth of his horse. 
 
 " I am glad to see you so much better/' 
 said the Count ; " do you think you are well 
 enough to ride slowly on ?" 
 
 " Yes," said the stranger. " I have quite 
 recovered from the dizziness in my head, 
 though, by the mass ! the ruffian had a heavy 
 hand. What were the rascals, signor ? 
 They wore a uniform I never remember to 
 have seen.*' 
 
 " They were evidently either deserters or 
 escaped prisoners. Austrians, no doubt. The
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 47 
 
 Milanese is infested with roving bands of 
 these marauders, since the termination of the 
 late war." 
 
 The travellers mounted, and were proceed- 
 ing at an easy pace towards Novi, when 
 the stranger suddenly remarked — 
 
 " You have served in the late war in the 
 Milanese, I should imagine, judging by your 
 horsemanship and skill with the pistol. By 
 my faith ! it was nice practice when you shot 
 that ruffian ; we were struggling together, and 
 it required a keen eye and a steady hand to 
 make sure of hitting the right mark." 
 
 " There was no time for deliberation," said 
 De Briesbach, laughing, *' another moment 
 would have left it out of your power to know 
 whose was the bullet that deprived you of 
 life. We must inform the authorities at Novi, 
 for those bodies must not lie exposed on the 
 high road." 
 
 " Corpo de Bacco, signor," exclaimed the 
 stranger, " leave the carrion to be buried by 
 their comrades. If you mention the subject
 
 48 BROKEN FETTEKS. 
 
 to the sbirri at Novi, ten to one but they will 
 detain you, and cause investigations. As to 
 myself, I am pressed for time, and must leave 
 you just before you enter the town. My road 
 lies to the left for a league further. 
 
 " Nevertheless," said the Count, " I cannot 
 leave the bodies of Christians, though they be 
 robbers, without interment.'' 
 
 The stranger remained silent for some time ; 
 he had lost much of the vivacity of manner 
 evinced on their first meeting. Otho im- 
 agined he was suffering from his wound. They 
 had arrived close to the town, whose lights 
 were twinkling in the darkness of the rapidly 
 approaching night. The stranger pulled up 
 his horse, where a narrow bridle road led away 
 to the left of the town. 
 
 " I must bid you farewell, signor, and 
 believe me, though I may never have the 
 opportunity of showing it, I feel deep gratitude 
 for the preservation of my life. I should not 
 like to have lost it, though, by my conscience, 
 it would have been better for my soul had I
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 49 
 
 been killed some six years back. However, 
 farewell/' and he held out his hand. 
 
 Otho thought his words strange, but frankly 
 shook the hand offered. 
 
 The stranger hesitated a moment as he was 
 turning away, and then said, 
 
 " Signor, say to the Countess de Sera that 
 she will find the road by Alessandria and 
 Aqui to Genoa much safer than the passage 
 of the Boch.etta. Addio^'" and, touching his 
 spirited horse with the spur, he disappeared in 
 the turnings of the narrow path he had 
 selected. 
 
 ''What on earth can the man mean?" 
 thought the Count ; '' take him all in all, he 
 is a strange compound — I fear a very doubt- 
 ful character — most probably an adventurer. 
 However, it matters not ; we shall, probably, 
 never meet again." His soliloquy was inter- 
 rupted by his arrival at the gate of the town. 
 
 Novi was at that period a walled town, 
 with gates, and had a small detachment of 
 soldiers in barracks, together with a consider- 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 nHe number of gens d^ armes^ who patrolled 
 the passages of the mountains to Genoa, 
 which were the resort of bandits and outlaws, 
 as well as gangs of galley slaves from Genoa 
 and Savona. 
 
 At the gate, the count was questioned by 
 the gens d^ armes stationed there, concerning 
 the affray he had been engaged in. Having 
 given the particulars and left his name, he 
 inquired for the Aquila Nera. By the direc- 
 tions he received, he was not long in arriving 
 there, and, having seen to the comfort of his 
 horse, he entered the inn, and inquired if the 
 Countess de Sera had arrived, and after receiv- 
 ing an af&rmative, he was shown into a com- 
 fortable room, and the waiter deposited his 
 valise on a chair. This valise was the only 
 luggage he carried, strapped on the back of 
 his saddle, his heavy packages having been 
 forwarded to Genoa by the carrier that passed 
 weekly between Turin and that city. 
 
 Our hero had just finished a very hasty 
 toilet, washed the wound he had received
 
 BKOKEN FETTERS, 51 
 
 in the shoulder, and applied a slight bandage, 
 when the waiter knocked at his door, and en- 
 tering the room, with a very low bow, in- 
 formed him that the Countess de Sera expected 
 his lordship at supper, which was then being 
 placed on the table. Otho de Briesbach fol- 
 lowed the man, and was ushered into the 
 saloon occupied by the Countess. A bright 
 log fire blazed upon the hearth, giving the 
 room a cheerful appearance, and a tolerably- 
 sized table, on which were several wax lights 
 and the edibles, was drawn close to the fire, 
 for, although it was April, Novi was a cold 
 place. 
 
 The Countess de Sera rose from her seat 
 and very kindly offered her hand to her 
 visitor, saying, 
 
 '' I cannot treat you as a mere chance 
 acquaintance ; I will tell you why, by and 
 bye. In the meantime let me introduce you 
 to my fair young friend, and protegee for the 
 time being, the lady Vannina de Matra.'' 
 
 Otho respectfully saluted the lady, as was 
 
 D 2 
 
 '^^^^m, OF liu.ois 
 
 I ion A r^,.
 
 52 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 then the custom in Italy, and the lady re- 
 turned the salutation with considerable timid- 
 ity, looking up as she did so, and the Count 
 thought he had never before beheld so beau- 
 tiful a face. They sat down to supper, but 
 as they were all tolerably hungry, there was 
 more eating than talking, and what little of 
 the latter there was, consisted in mere com- 
 mon-place observations and civilities. We 
 must, however, confess that Otho de Bries- 
 bach's eyes were frequently turned from the 
 delicacies before him, to gaze on the lovely 
 countenance of Vannina de Matra, and when 
 this said fair damsel occasionally looked up, 
 which of course she did, the colour on her 
 cheeks deepened considerably on finding the 
 dark intellectual eyes of the young Count 
 fixed upon her. 
 
 The supper ended, the dishes, &c., were re- 
 placed by a dessert and some good light wines, 
 and the servants withdrew ; then the Countess 
 commenced a conversation by saying, 
 
 '' You must have thought me very forget-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 53 
 
 fill, and not very polite In not including your 
 wounded companion in my invitation ; but 
 the fact is, you must be aware that acquaint- 
 ances of the road are rarely renewed.'' 
 
 Otho smiled. 
 
 " I see by your smile that you misunder- 
 stand me. I do not consider you a casual 
 acquaintance, for on hearing your name I felt 
 as if we had known each other before, as I 
 shall explain. One of my attendants in- 
 formed me that you arrived here alone, so T 
 imagined your travelling companion had left 
 you. Was he much liurt? From some 
 strange expressions he made use of when my 
 servants lifted him from the road, I should 
 imagine he is rather a strange character. 
 What became of him ?" 
 
 " I quite agree with you in thinking him a 
 curious compound. In what class in life to 
 place him I can scarcely imagine. Our ac- 
 quaintance was very brief We parted just 
 before I entered the town. By the bye,
 
 54 BKOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Countess, he gave me a message to deliver to 
 
 voii." 
 
 " To me r 
 
 " Yes, the message was for you, though it 
 puzzled me. He said, ' You may tell the 
 Countess de Sera that she will find the road 
 to Genoa by Alessandria and Aqui much safer 
 than that by the Bochetta/ '' 
 
 '' Ha !" said Vannina de Matr^ ; " that is 
 precisely what you were told at Turin." And 
 the sweet silvery tones of the girl's voice 
 was music to the Count's ear. 
 
 " It is too late, my love, to profit by the 
 good advice now," said the Countess. " My 
 friends at Turin advised me to avoid the 
 Bochetta. I positively believe our sex are 
 fond of acting by the rule of contradiction. 
 If they had said go by the Bochetta, as the 
 road by A-lessandria and Aqui is dangerous, I 
 have no doubt in the world I should have 
 gone by the latter. I daresay the signor who 
 sent me that message, knows the dangers of
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 55 
 
 the road well, and it was very kind of 
 him." 
 
 " But surely," said Vannina, turning to the 
 Count, " there can be little danger to be appre- 
 hended from banditti, with our six armed at- 
 tendants, and the ten gens dJarmesyoM desired 
 the landlord to speakto the authorities about." 
 
 " And if the Count accompanies us," inter- 
 rupted the Countess, laughing, " as you said 
 awhile ago, you would have no fear if fifty 
 brigands were to attack us.'' 
 
 Vannina blushed to the very eyes, looking 
 so exceedingly lovely, that we feel certain 
 our hero would have thought nothing of 
 that number. 
 
 " I am sure," he said, looking very much 
 pleased, " nothing would give me greater 
 pleasure than being permitted to accompany 
 you across the mountain, as far as the last 
 post, where I understand all danger ceases — 
 if, indeed, there be danger, which I should 
 think would scarcely be the case, where the 
 party is well armed. I can understand its
 
 GO BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 being dangerous to individuals or travellers 
 going unarmed/' 
 
 " There 3^ou are in error/' said the Coun- 
 tess, rather seriously. " I am told there is a 
 band, under a very desperate chief, that num- 
 bers more than fifty ruffians. I know that 
 last winter there was no such thing as passing 
 the Bochetta without an escort of dragoons." 
 
 A knock at the saloon door interrupted the 
 conversation. The landlord made his ap- 
 pearance. 
 
 '' I fear your ladyship will be disap- 
 pointed," said the host. " I have applied to 
 Captain Certa, in your ladyship's name, and 
 he regrets that he cannot spare you more 
 than four of his men, as the P^ngllsh milor who 
 passed this morning engaged ten, and these 
 will not return till to-morrow. He desired me 
 to say, he thinks you need be under no appre- 
 hension whatever, as you will be sure to meet 
 them on the road. At all events, he considers 
 that your own attendants and four dra- 
 goons, all well armed, will be ample protec-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 57 
 
 tion. Besides, he thinks the banditti have 
 dispersed, as they have not been seen or heard 
 of on the road for weeks,'* 
 
 " I am much obliged,'* said the Countess ; 
 " four must do ; this gentleman rides with 
 us. Let us have the horses early.'* 
 
 " Name your own hour, and they shall be 
 ready." 
 
 *' Suppose we say seven o'clock ; will that 
 hour suit you, Count de Briesbach ? 
 
 " Quite, Countess." 
 
 " Then, have everything ready at seven, 
 landlord, and let the gens d'armes know the 
 time, and on no account forget to give them 
 the stirrup cup before starting." 
 
 The worthy host of the Black Eagle smiled, 
 bowed, and departed. 
 
 " I am afraid. Count, you scarcely relish our 
 light wines after your famous Ehine vint- 
 age." 
 
 " They are very little regretted by me," 
 said de Briesbach. '' You promised to inform 
 me how you — " 
 
 D 5
 
 58 
 
 BROKEN FETTEES. 
 
 **Well,'' Interrupted the Countess, who 
 was a very fascinating, and still remarkably 
 handsome woman, though, perhaps ap- 
 proaching her fortieth year, '' I know what 
 you are about to request; I see you men, 
 after all, are just as curious as we ladies," 
 she added, smiling. *■' However, a very few 
 
 words will explain. General D 's wife is 
 
 my first cousin, and as you were placed under 
 the care and eye of the General during your 
 first campaign, you attended, with your 
 brother officers, the balls given by my cousin, 
 who, you know, is a very gay woman.^* 
 
 "Oh! I see it all now," said the Count, 
 smiling. "The General's lady, when the 
 war commenced, went to stay with the Lady 
 Abbess of the convent of St. Ursula, which is 
 on the banks of the Po, just at the foot of the 
 hill on which stands the Superga." 
 
 "Very true," interrupted the Countess ; "in 
 that same convent are my two daughters." 
 
 " Indeed," said Otho. 
 
 " Yes, and it is from that same convent
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 69 
 
 I have just taken this young lady, for the 
 purpose of resigning her to the care of her 
 guardian, the Count de Kivalora, who resides 
 a few miles from Genoa.'' 
 
 " Then I dare say," said Vannina, looking 
 at the Count for a moment, '' you are the 
 officer who saved our convent from being 
 attacked and pillaged, and probably burnt. 
 A dreadful flight we all had ; the old nuns 
 wringing their hands, and running wildly 
 about, imploring every saint in the calendar 
 by turns. Oh ! I assure you we were in a 
 sad way, notwithstanding the General's 
 lady did everything she could to cheer us. 
 It was not of the Austrians we were afraid, 
 but a band of desperate and lawless wretches, 
 deserters, and I know not what, who, we had 
 intelligence, were advancing to pillage the 
 place. While we were all in a state of despair — 
 for the marauders had surrounded the con- 
 vent,and would have forced the gates in a very 
 short time, — a troop of horse came to our re- 
 lief, and swam the river in spite of its swollen
 
 60 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 waters. How little I thought," continued 
 the fair Vannina, blushing, and letting her 
 long silken lashes conceal her eyes from the 
 admiring gaze of the Count, '' how little I 
 thought — for I was gazing out anxiously from 
 the top of a turret, when I saw the officer 
 who led his gallant troop into the flood, and 
 after gaining the bank, charge furiously into 
 the midst of the marauders, who soon fled — 
 that I should ever see our deliverer again. I 
 assure you. Count, you had all our prayers 
 that night, old and young.'' 
 
 " No doubt of that, my child," said the 
 Countess, smiling ; " and 1 also have no doubt 
 that both old and young would very willingly 
 have received the Count into the convent to 
 thank him personally for his bravery ; but I 
 heard from the General's lady that no sooner 
 had the officer dispersed the gang of mis- 
 creants, than, in the most ungallant manner, 
 he turned his back upon the convent, and, of 
 course, upon the old nuns and young ladies 
 who prayed for him so earnestly that night."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 61 
 
 " Upon my honour, Countess, it was with 
 the greatest reluctance I did so, little aware 
 at the time of the treasures the convent con- 
 tained." 
 
 ^' Do you mean the old nuns, or the young 
 ladies?'* demanded the Countess; " for there 
 is no accounting for taste at times." 
 
 " If your ladyship's daughters," said Otho, 
 bowing to the Countess, "bore any resem- 
 blance to their mother, they and the Lady 
 Vannina de Matra were attractions for a poor 
 soldier, who besides, to tell the truth, at that 
 time was very hungry and cruelly thirsty, 
 for, if the Lady Vannina remembers, the day 
 was frightfully hot, though the plunge into 
 the river helped to cool us a little, but we 
 had tasted no food that day, and our orders 
 were to return without the loss of a moment, 
 as a general engagement was expected that 
 same afternoon with the main body of the 
 Austrian army/' 
 
 " Well, Count, by that gallant action you 
 gained the hearts of half the beauties of
 
 62 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Turin/' said the Countess ; " and," she con- 
 tinued, laughingly, " turned the heads of the 
 other half. Just before I was leaving that 
 city, I heard my cousin speak most highly of 
 your gallantry in several other actions. You 
 may, therefore, easily imagine my surprise 
 and pleasure, when you told me your name ; 
 I thought of my daughters in the convent, 
 and resolved to cultivate so agreeable an 
 acquaintance as chance had thus thrown in 
 my way.'* 
 
 The Count bowed and was greatly pleased. 
 It was getting late, and the trio separated, 
 mutually pleased with each other. The 
 Count, if not actually in love with Vannina, 
 was on the direct road to become so. 
 
 The next morning they were to depart 
 from Novi precisely at seven o'clock.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 63 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 In the town of Legliorn there is, or there was, 
 an hotel called the " Tuscan Arms/' On the 
 26 th of April, 17 — , in a large room, or saloon, 
 of the said hotel, were two men, both remark- 
 able looking personages, seated at a table — ■ 
 on which a large map was spread — in earnest 
 conversation. The window of the saloon 
 looked out over the two piers that form the 
 harbour of Leghorn and on the deep blue sea 
 so eulogised by poets. 
 
 One of the individuals we need not describe, 
 for our readers are already acquainted with 
 his person and features ; it was Theodore, 
 Baron Newhoff ; the other, a man of about
 
 64 BEOKEN FETTEES. 
 
 five-and-forty years of age, scarcely above the 
 middle heiglit, but of a most extraordinary 
 breadth of shoulder and chest, his arms were 
 long and muscular, and his limbs the limbs of 
 a giant ; to those immense proportions were 
 added a very small round head, covered with 
 a thick curly crop of black hair, with not a 
 particle of grey, intensely dark eyes, possessing 
 a restless, wild, enthusiastic brilliancy ; thick 
 moustachios and whiskers and a small pointed 
 beard, all without the slighest mixture of 
 grey. Such was the face and figure of Luigi 
 Gaffieri, the then famoUvS leader and chief of 
 the Corsican Insurgents, for the whole Island 
 of Corsica had risen in revolt against the 
 cruelties and tyranny of the Genoese. 
 
 Gaffieri's attire was almost as remarkable 
 as his figure and appearance ; the upper part 
 of his person was cased in a thick doublet of 
 leather, very much soiled ; his breast was 
 covered with a very indifferently polished 
 cuirass, a piece of armour out of use at that 
 time, except in certain cavalry regiments;
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 65 
 
 Corsica never maintained a mounted force, 
 for tlie very best of reasons, their utter use- 
 lessness in a country, even at that period, 
 without roads and intersected by continual 
 mountain ranges and almost impervious 
 thickets. His legs were cased in thick uu- 
 tanned leather gaiters, which reached above 
 the knee, and round his waist a broad leather 
 belt, evidently intended to contain pistols and 
 pogniards, a large mask of dark brown cloth 
 and a very broad slouched beaver, without 
 feather, lay upon a chair beside him. He had 
 arrived that morning from Corsica. 
 
 The contrast between these men, each 
 remarkable in their appearance, was great. 
 The tall and commanding figure of the Baron 
 de Newhoff, attired in the rich undress of a 
 celebrated cavalry regiment to which he had 
 formerly belonged, his studied attention to 
 every portion of his attire, was most marked, 
 when contrasted with the rough and almost 
 grotesque uniform of the high spirited and 
 valiant Chief of the Corsican patriots.
 
 66 BROKEN FEITERS. 
 
 Lulgi Graffieri, thougli not of tlie highest 
 rank in the island, possessed very extensive 
 inflaence. His hatred to the Eepublic of 
 Genoa was not merely great, but, in truth, 
 amounted almost to fanaticism. But he had 
 a kind heart, and a steady, undaunted resolu- 
 tion. As we remarked, when introducing 
 these two men to the notice of our readers, 
 they were engaged in earnest Gonversation. In 
 reply to some remark of the Corsican Chief, 
 Baron de Newhoff said, 
 
 " Then there is no doubt this time, that the 
 people are unanimous in their determination 
 to resist to the death the exactions of the 
 Genoese Eepublic?" 
 
 " Not the slightest doubt — there never 
 was ; but," added the Chief in a bitter tone, 
 " it is not amongst the people, but those who 
 ought to be an example to the people, that 
 dissensions and diversity of opinion prevail." 
 
 "What gave rise to the present bold at- 
 tempt to regain your freedom ?" demanded 
 the Baron ; " the three other insurrections
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 67 
 
 were so speedily put down, that T despaired 
 of ever seeing anything like a formidable 
 opposition to the power of your enemies." 
 
 " A spark will create a flame," said the 
 Corsican, " oftentimes of greater consequence 
 than the firing of a town in a dozen places ; 
 and a mere spark has this time, thanks be to 
 God ! lit a fire that can only be quenched in 
 the blood of our bitterest enemies." 
 
 " It seems," continued the Chief, less vehe- 
 mently, " that a Genoese collector demanded 
 of a very poor woman the sum of one 
 paola; she, however, had it not, small as the 
 sum was. The collector not only abused the 
 poor old dame, but swore he would seize the 
 furniture. She begged him to wait a few 
 days ; but vain were all her entreaties. The 
 old woman's lamentations brought a number 
 of persons to her house, and they all took 
 part against the collector, who vowed he 
 would have them all punished with the 
 utmost severity. These threats enraged the
 
 68 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 villagers, who drove liim from the house, and 
 pelted him with stones. 
 
 " A troop was sent to support the collector, 
 and my countrymen assembled in great num- 
 bers ; the tumult increased, and in an incre- 
 dible short time the whole island was in 
 commotion, A sudden and simultaneous attack 
 was made upon Porto Vecchia, which was 
 taken without resistance, and they would 
 have captured the Castle of Corte, if they had 
 had leaders. However, the rising had 
 become so formidable, that the principal 
 chiefs met to consult and elect leaders to fol- 
 low up the insurrection. 
 
 " T had the honour of being appointed, with 
 the Signor Andrea Ceccaldi, one of our most 
 distinguished noblemen. Not to weary you, 
 I will, as briefly as possible, state how we 
 succeeded. As long as we had only the 
 maladetta Genoese to fight against, we cut 
 them to pieces everywhere. The Eepublic, 
 finding their soldiers unable to hold their
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 69 
 
 positions, asked assistance from the Emperor 
 Charles VI., and to our vexation he sent a 
 body of men, under the command of General 
 Watchtendonk ; but thanks to Heaven, 
 though they killed and wounded some ten or 
 twelve thousand of our brave comrades, we 
 beat them, and held our own; but only for a 
 time, for the Emperor, enraged at our success, 
 sent Prince Wirtemberg in command of a 
 large body of German troops, against which 
 we were unable longer to contend. We, 
 therefore, agreed to lay down our arms on 
 certain conditions. 
 
 " Prince Wirtemberg was a brave and 
 gallant soldier, and behaved well to us. For 
 a time the conditions agreed upon were pro- 
 perly observed, but erelong the Genoese, with 
 their accustomed faithlessness, broke them. 
 We rose again, and soon regained all we had 
 given up, and we have now the most sanguine 
 hopes of crushing, for ever, the power of the 
 Genoese in Corsica. All we want is union 
 among ourselves, and that, unfortunately, we
 
 70 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 have not. Do you, Baron, perform your part, 
 and bring us friends, arms and ammunition, 
 which you have declared to our chiefs you 
 have the power to do. The moment you 
 land, you will be elected our King by the 
 unanimous voice, not only of our nobility 
 and our chiefs, but by the whole population 
 of Corsica." 
 
 " What I have offered and promised, shall 
 be forthcoming, and more. I have been pro- 
 mised assistance from three crowned heads,'' 
 replied the Baron, calmly. '' But you were 
 saying, Signor GafSeri, there was dissension, 
 or at least difference of opinion, amongst your 
 leaders.'' 
 
 " Not amongst our leaders, thank Heaven," 
 said the Corsican ; " but one of our most 
 powerful and influential families, whose vassals 
 are very numerous, and connections spread 
 nearly over the island, sides with the 
 Genoese." 
 
 " His name," demanded De Newhoflf. 
 
 " Count Luigi de Matra," replied the Cor-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 71 
 
 sican, " one of the haughtiest, proudest, and 
 most passionate and intemperate noblemen on 
 the island. He has but one child, a daughter, 
 heiress to his great wealth, and who, it is 
 understood, is betrothed to the son of the 
 fiercest and most inveterate noble of Genoa. 
 He was our governor when the treaty between 
 us was broken, and it is well known that he 
 was the instigator of almost all the cruelties 
 and exactions under which we formerly 
 laboured, and which he again sought to re- 
 commence." 
 
 "What is his name?" asked the Baron; 
 "for I wish to be thoroughly acquainted with 
 every one concerned for or against our 
 cause." 
 
 " The Marchese Phillipo Carignano — a man 
 implacable in his resentments and hatreds ; 
 but. Baron, the principal business that at pre- 
 sent occupies my mind is with respect to your 
 present visit to Genoa. As you are a per- 
 fect stranger you may forward our views 
 materially by seeking an interview with
 
 72 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Count Domenico Eivalora, who possesses, 
 although a Corsican by bh'th, extensive lands 
 on the Ligurian coast, not far from Genoa. 
 Though at present undecided, the Count is a 
 true patriot. His family is a branch of the 
 house of Kossi, at Parma, illustrious in Italian 
 history, and his immediate ancestor, Francesco 
 Eivalora, was raised by the Emperor Maxi- 
 milian to the dignity of Count Palatine, from 
 which time the title has remained in the 
 family. Three of his descen dents settled in 
 Corsica — one in Bastia, one in Calvi, and one 
 in Ajaccio. 
 
 ''Count Domenico was always considered 
 friendly to the Genoese Eepublic, and was 
 actually invested with the office of commissary 
 in Bologna; we, however, have received secret 
 intelligence that he is disgusted with the con- 
 duct of Genoa at breaking the last treaty, and 
 requires very little further insight into their 
 conduct to induce him to enter into our 
 cause. These letters and papers from Paoli," 
 and the Signor took a packet from his pocket,
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 73 
 
 which he gave to the Baron, " you will de- 
 liver only to himself, and explain to him 
 your offers and our terms with you. If he 
 joins us — and I firmly believe he will — our 
 success is almost certain, for his influence and 
 connections in the island, that are now 
 neutral, will more than counterbalance the 
 defection of the family of De Matra." 
 
 '' I see now," said the Baron ; '' much 
 good may be done by my voyage to Genua, 
 where, in point of fact, I must go, for [ have 
 appointed to meet my nephew there on the 
 first of next month. He is, without excep- 
 tion, the finest young man in Italy, or any- 
 where else, for that matter; he will make a 
 noble soldier. I placed him under the eye of 
 
 General D , one of the ablest tacticians in 
 
 the art of war now living. The youth has 
 served with distinguished success for two 
 years in the army of Charles Emmanuel. The 
 moment I reach Genoa and explain to him 
 my views and intentions, he will embark for 
 Corsica. I shall entrust him with the money 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 you at present require; he will bring you 
 letters from me, and I give him to your care, 
 for he is as dear to me as my life." 
 
 " He is the very man we want," said the 
 Corsican Chief, rubbing his broad and mus- 
 cular palms together, while his dark eyes 
 flashed. ''Yes, a noble, high-spirited youth, 
 a stranger, well skilled in arms, and enthusi- 
 astic in the cause of liberty. In truth, Baron, 
 all is most fortunate. He shall have a dis- 
 tinguished command the moment he arrives. 
 By the bye," and he paused a moment, "yes, 
 it will be better ; let him embark from this 
 port, and lay out part of the sum you send in 
 arms and ammunition — yes, ammunition of all 
 things." 
 
 '' He shall do so,'' said the Baron. " I in- 
 tended that he should embark from either this 
 port or Nice; it will answer better from here, 
 as arms and ammunition can be obtained in any 
 quantities. When I have seen Count 
 Domenico Eivalora I shall embark imme- 
 diately for Tunis, as I before stated to you ;
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 75 
 
 thence I shall return with my first supply of 
 arms, &c., and by the latter end of July, or 
 August at farthest, you may expect me in 
 Corsica with the stipulated force, &c." 
 
 "You perfectly understand the situation, 
 &c., of the various ports I have pointed out 
 to you?" said the Corsican, folding up the 
 map they had been carefully examining. 
 "You had better take it," he continued, 
 giving the map to the Baron. " You will 
 find them all marked, as well as the way laid 
 down from each port, into the interior of the 
 island. All the places, towns, and forts, &c., 
 in our hands are also noted. I must now 
 proceed to Pisa, for I have much to talk 
 over, as well as much to settle with the 
 Signor Grratiano." 
 
 The Corsican arose, and threw his large 
 mantle over his broad shoulders. The Baron 
 took the map, and held out his hand to the 
 Chief, saying — 
 
 '' Our interview has, I trust, been as satis- 
 factory to you as to myself" 
 
 £ 5
 
 76 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 The Corsican grasped De NewhofFs hand 
 cordially. 
 
 " Yes," he returned, " quite as gratifying, 
 and I wish with all my heart that you may 
 meet with all the success you deserve, that 
 you will find your nephew well, and that 
 he may prove a comfort to you, and a great 
 help to our cause." 
 
 And the two parted, mutually pleased with 
 each other.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 77 
 
 CHAPTER VL 
 
 Baron de Newhoff started at once for Genoa, 
 but as there were no steamers at that time, 
 there was no commanding the winds and the 
 waves. After struggling for two days against 
 a high and contrary wind, the felucca in 
 which he had embarked was forced to put 
 into the Gulf of Spezzia. The Baron was 
 greatly vexed at the delay, and considering 
 the large sum he had paid for his passage, 
 got tired of the vessel. Having landed, and 
 finding it too late to proceed that evening, he 
 sent for a muleteer and bargained for a couple 
 of mules to take him the following day through 
 Chiavare. He took up his quarters for the
 
 78 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 night at a first-rate hotel, and having ordered 
 his supper, sat down to it with an appetite, 
 and consoled himself by soliloquising: 
 
 " After all 1 shall not lose much time, for 
 as we pass through Chiavare I can call upon 
 the Count Eivalora and execute my commis- 
 sion with him/' 
 
 So, having satisfied his appetite and eased 
 his mind, he retired to rest, ordering his 
 muleteer to be ready for service. 
 
 The road, if indeed it could be called a road, 
 was an extraordinary zigzag path, which, like 
 a huge sea serpent, wound sometimes through 
 the deep sea sands, then into a roaring tor- 
 rent, impetuous, but not deep ; then, by way 
 of variety, right across the summit of the 
 highest hills; and very high hills they are 
 that stretch from Spezzia beyond Genoa. 
 
 If the Baron found the road detestable, the 
 beauty of the scenery from Spezzia almost to 
 Sestri di Sevante was frequently magnificent, 
 though wild and scarcely cultivated, for the 
 land, though luxuriant in natural and sweet
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 79 
 
 scented plants and trees, is absolutely sterile. 
 It was with the utmost difficulty the traveller 
 contrived to perform the ten leagues betvveen 
 Spezzia and Lestri in one day, though his 
 guide forced him to rise with the sun. 
 
 The whole line of coast he traversed pre- 
 sented a singular feature, which struck the 
 Baron forcibly. Nature was as ostenta- 
 tious as it was luxuriant ; every plant 
 was a flower ; every tree a laurel ; but not 
 one single bud or production that serves to 
 sustain life was to be seen ; whilst everything 
 to embellish grew in profusion. 
 
 The next day De Newhoff left early, in- 
 tending to visit Chiavare that evening, but a 
 tremendous storm in the hills, which lasted 
 six hours, so flooded the mountain torrents 
 that he was forced to halt at a miserable venta^ 
 near the foot of a stupendous hill, at whose 
 base ran a stream more like a mighty river 
 than an insignificant rivulet, which it had 
 been before the commencement of the storm ; 
 but so it is with all the streams running from
 
 80 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the Maritime Alps into the Mediterranean. 
 Their beds, covered with huge rocks and 
 stones, are many of them a quarter of a mile 
 across, with a shallow stream winding through 
 the middle, not twenty yards wide. After a 
 storm the entire bed of these mountain streams 
 are covered with a raging flood, and many 
 lives are annually sacrificed by the sudden 
 manner in which the torrent descends. 
 
 Whilst the baron was gazing discontentedly 
 at the discoloured and raging flood that boldly 
 breasted the calm waters of the Mediter- 
 ranean, for, though the thunders rolled in 
 liollow murmurs amid the hills, and a black 
 pall hung, as it were, over their summits, 
 on the broad bosom of the sea the sun shone 
 brightly, and the light southerly wind played 
 along its surface— a great contrast to the time 
 when the Baron was attempting to make his 
 way to Genoa. 
 
 As De Newhoff was gazing on the flood, 
 and calculating how long it might last, he 
 perceived, advancing towards the venta, at
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 81 
 
 the door of which he was standing, three per- 
 sons and two mules coming down the road he 
 had retm'ned from in the morning. One was 
 placed on the back of one of the mules ; the 
 two others were supporting him, one on each 
 side. The landlord, happening to come out 
 at the moment and catching sight of those 
 approaching, exclaimed, 
 
 " Eh I per CTiristo I they are the travellers 
 bound for Genoa, who started from here, 
 signor, before you arrived. I thought by 
 their not returning they must have crossed the 
 river before the storm ; but, Santa Madonna ! 
 something must have happened ;'* and away he 
 ran to meet the strangers. 
 
 As the travellers approached, the Baron eyed 
 them with some degree of curiosity. They 
 were all three dripping wet. The signor who 
 sat upon the mule appeared hurt, looking ex- 
 ceedingly pale and very weak. The Baron 
 approached and courteously offered to assist, 
 expressing a hope that the signor had not met 
 with any very serious accident. 
 
 E 5
 
 82 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " Only somewhat bruised, half drowned, 
 and more than a little frightened/' replied the 
 stranger, " and all owing to my own rash- 
 ness and want of patience." 
 
 He was assisted to alight by one of the 
 persons who supported him, and who appeared 
 like an attendant; the other was the mule- 
 teer. Bowing to the Baron, the two entered 
 the venta. 
 
 The stranger who was injured was a tall, 
 thin man, about fifty years of age, and of a 
 very remarkable physiognomy. His attendant 
 was younger, shorter, and stouter, with an 
 extremely sharp, intelligent countenance, but 
 withal shrewd, and somewhat marked by a 
 cunning cast of the eye. 
 
 " How did the accident happen ?" asked the 
 Baron of the muleteer, who was busily en- 
 gaged unstrapping the luggage of the strangers. 
 
 ''No fault of mine, signor," replied the 
 man, continuing his occupation ; " the signor, 
 who I think is a priest, or something belong- 
 ing to Mother Church, was more obstinate
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 83 
 
 than a mule, and persisted in crossing the 
 stream, and we ascended the mountain to look 
 for a less dangerous ford, although I knew it 
 was useless, and I told him so. He said he 
 was in a hurry, having already lost valuable 
 time, and would try to cross the torrent. 
 Blessed Saints ! it was a miracle he was not 
 drowned. I warned him of the danger, but 
 he heeded me not ; and he was washed off the 
 mule in an instant, and only that he was 
 dashed against a rock, and held on till we 
 pulled him out, we should never have seen 
 more of him — he would have been swept into 
 the sea; but here comes the rain." 
 
 The Baron seeing there was nothing for it 
 but patience, retired to the small chamber in 
 which his baggage had been deposited, and 
 throwing himself into a chair, took a pocket 
 map from his vest, and began examining it, 
 when he distinctly heard voices in the adjoin- 
 ing chamber in conversation. He would 
 have paid no attention to the circumstance, 
 but he was astonished to hear that they con-
 
 84 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 versed in German ; the partition between 
 tlie rooms was a verj thin wood panel. The 
 first sentence he caught was — 
 
 " I fear, padre, you are more seriously in- 
 jured than you imagined, and will not be able 
 to proceed for some days." 
 
 '* My son," replied a much weaker voice, 
 " the pains of the body must not be thought 
 of when the welfare of our Holy Church is at 
 stake/ 
 
 The Baron was on the point of giving 
 some intimation of his near presence, but an 
 unaccountable feeling of curiosity took 
 possession of him, and he allowed them to 
 continue their conversation. 
 
 " True, padre, true ; as you always tell me, 
 everything must be sacrificed that stands in 
 the way of Holy Church's welfare or aggran- 
 disement. Still, if you fall ill and get worse, 
 our project falls to the ground. By patiently 
 waiting a few days, you will regain strength ; 
 you have already overtaxed your powders of 
 endurance."
 
 BROKEN FITTERS. 85 
 
 " Not SO, my son ; but even if I fall, we 
 must persevere. We have been led astray ; 
 had we not been misinformed of the move- 
 ments of the young Count de Briesbach — " 
 
 At the mention of his nephew's name, the 
 Baron sat like one electrified 5 the speaker 
 continued : 
 
 " We should have avoided all this. It was 
 said he had gone to Modena, and when too 
 late, we received intelligence that it was to 
 Genoa. This has caused us untoward delay, 
 added to the great and inconvenient round 
 we were forced to take to enable us to reach 
 that city. The Count may have left Genoa, 
 and how far and where he may have gone, it 
 is impossible to say ; but he must not be per- 
 mitted to escape us ; this rich inheritance 
 must not be lost to the church ; it would 
 be evil enough to lose it under any cir- 
 cumstances, but to see it go into the hands of 
 a heretic — the saints forbid ! Even now, 
 Heinrick, I feel better for this rubbing. How
 
 86 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 fortunate that we brought this salve with us. 
 Please the Virgin, I hope we shall be able 
 to resume our journey to-morrow. One day 
 more, or a day and a half at farthest, will 
 finish our journey ; for I am told the road is 
 much better for chaises to Genoa. Go, my 
 son, and procure some food, for I feel both 
 weak and faint." 
 
 The Baron remained in a state of complete 
 bewilderment for some minutes after the 
 voices ceased. What had his nephew to do 
 with the church and a rich inheritance ? Who 
 were the priests ? whence did they come, and 
 what was their purpose with Otho de Bries- 
 bach? The only thing he could clearly 
 make out of the whole was that whoever the 
 strangers were, their intention evidently was 
 to secure for the Church of Rome an inherit- 
 ance intended for a heretic, and yet all this 
 was a mystery to the Baron. 
 
 " Is Otho about to be married to some 
 wealthy heiress," he thought, " and are these
 
 BEOKEN FETTEES. 87 
 
 pious padres anxious to prevent the mamage? 
 for in no other \Yay can the youth become 
 possessed of a rich inheritance." 
 
 Tke Baron rehipsed into silence, and sat 
 for a considerable time in deep thought ; all 
 at once a new and more tangible idea struck 
 him. 
 
 " Can it be possible that the Baron de 
 Hammerstein and his two sons are dead ? 
 Thev were all rigid Catholics. In default of 
 male heir, the vast propercj passed to the 
 Church. Otho is the heir, for I believe 
 neither of the joung men had children. This 
 must be seen to. Who are these priests ? — 
 Jesuits, I expect — and what is their object? 
 Do thej follow Otho for the purpose of re- 
 moving him — perhaps murdering him — to 
 obtain this vast property." 
 
 Ao-ain the Baron became silent, for he had 
 given utterance to his thoughts in a low 
 whisper. He was gi'eatly puzzled ; but the 
 result of his meditation was a determination, 
 before he went to bed, to vnite to a friend at
 
 88 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Frankfort, and ascertain from him if anything 
 fatal had occurred in the Hammerstein family. 
 He also determined not to lose sight of the 
 priest until he had seen Otho, to put him on 
 his guard. 
 
 The Baron contrived very cleverly to start 
 the following morning at the same time as 
 the strangers, for whether the salve which 
 the priest used to rub on his bruises was ex- 
 ceedingly good, or that mental anxiety was 
 more powerful than bodily suffering, the 
 stranger mounfed his mule to all appearance 
 completely restored, excepting that his natur- 
 ally pale complexion looked somewhat more 
 yellow, and his bright and searching eye less 
 brilliant. 
 
 De Newhoff thought the stranger appeared 
 vexed when he enquired courteously after- 
 his wounds, saying in an indifferent and easy 
 tone, 
 
 " I rejoice at having been so fortunate as 
 to have a companion on this solitary route ; 
 we travel the same road, I believe."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 89 
 
 The stranger bowed courteously enough, 
 saying, 
 
 " I fear you will find me a dull companion 
 and a very slow traveller.'' 
 
 '' In truth," replied the Baron, smiling, " if 
 ever so much inclined for quick locomotion, 
 neither the road nor the animals would admit 
 of any other pace than a walk." 
 
 As the travellers entered the now shallow 
 stream of the torrent of the previous day, the 
 Baron remarked, 
 
 " Had I not witnessed the broad and furi- 
 ous flood, I should have disbelieved any one 
 who had told me that so insignificant a 
 rivulet could, in the course of an hour, have 
 defied the passage of the boldest horseman.'^ 
 
 " I was nearly paying very dearly for my 
 disbelief, signor," said the stranger ; " I have 
 not been accustomed to witness such results 
 from a mere thunder storm." 
 
 " The streams from these Alps are very 
 different indeed from the almost gentle rivers
 
 90 BROKEN FLTTERS, 
 
 flowing into the lordly Ehine," remarked the 
 Baron, carelessly. 
 
 The Priest turned on his saddle, so as to be 
 able to fix his keen eyes upon the Baron's 
 face, as he said, 
 
 " You have visited, or probably resided in 
 Germany, signor?" and then added : '' Though 
 you speak Italian fluently, I should say you 
 were not a native 5 mors likely German or 
 Eussian." 
 
 " Neither one nor the other, signor," re- 
 plied the Baron, smiling. '' I passed a good 
 deal of my time in Germany some years ago, 
 and am tolerably well acquainted with the 
 country bordering the Rhine, from Cologne to 
 Coblentz. Have you, signor, ever visited 
 that beautiful line of country, with its majes- 
 tic stream, its glorious banks, and its hundred 
 picturesque castles ? some, like old Drachen- 
 fels, towering to the skies." 
 
 '' I have been in Germany, and have both 
 ascended and descended the noble river you
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 91 
 
 speak of," quietly replied the stranger ; 
 " there is in truth but little resemblance be- 
 tween this track of country and the hills of 
 the Ehine. Still, we have nothing to com- 
 plain of, for there is much beauty in this 
 coast scenery ; besides, on our left we have 
 the sparkling and broad sea in compensation 
 for the rapid waters of the Ehine, Did you 
 know any of the possessors of those noble 
 mansions to be seen studding the country 
 from Bonn to Linz?" 
 
 " I am acquainted,'^ said the Baron, '' with 
 one or two noblemen residing within a few 
 leagues of Drachenfels." 
 
 '' Indeed," said the stranger ; " then it is 
 probable we may know the same persons. In 
 travelling, how strange sometimes are these 
 chance encounters. Without being inquisi- 
 tive, signor, might I enquire the name of my 
 travelling companion? Mine is Orsini; I am 
 a native of the Eternal City." 
 
 " A noble and ancient name, signor. and a 
 proud birth-place. I drew my breath in an
 
 92 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 island, famous more for its wealth and com- 
 merce than its historical recollections, though 
 we have them also — I mean England — and 
 my name is Philip Maunsel. We are a 
 rambling race when once we leave our iron 
 bound shores. I think I may say an Eng- 
 lishman is to be met with in every part of the 
 inhabited globe." 
 
 " An Englishman," repeated the Signer 
 Orsini; and again a keen, enquiring glance 
 shot from beneath the long, dark, drooping 
 eyelashes of the Italian. " I was saying we 
 may probably know the same persons, for I 
 also have spent much time in Germany, and 
 resided many months with the Count Von 
 Koningsbergern, near Coblentz. Did you ever 
 meet that nobleman?" 
 
 " No," said the Baron, " I never heard the 
 name ; I resided for months at a time in 
 Frankfort, where I was intimately acquainted 
 with the Count de Mannheim, and was stay- 
 ing with him at the time he was completing 
 the purchase he had made of a picturesque
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 93 
 
 spot on the borders of the Ehine, a hunting 
 tower belonging to a young nobleman of the 
 name of Otho de Breisbach, whose uncle, the 
 Baron de Hammerstein, possessed vast 
 estates, I believe, near to the Tower, which 
 De Mannheim told me was in a very dilapi- 
 dated condition." 
 
 '' I know both the place and the persons 
 you mention quite well,'^ said the stranger, 
 without perceptible sign of either surprise or 
 emotion on his placid pale features. " The 
 Baron de Hammerstein I have frequently 
 met; he is a member of the Catholic Church, 
 and had two — very fine young men — sons. It 
 is scarcely two months since T saw the Baron 
 at Linz ; so you see, Signor Maunsel, we are 
 scarcely strangers to each other, knowing the 
 same persons in far off lands.'* 
 
 " Humph !" muttered the Baron to himself, 
 " it's very strange ; this rich inheritance is 
 scarcely that of the Hammersteins, or else 
 this man is an admirable actor. Time — time, 
 however, will tell."
 
 94 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Changing the conversation, he pointed out 
 to the Italian the town of Chiavare, stand- 
 ing on one side of a river, and the village of 
 Lavagna — the name also of the river — occu- 
 pying the other. 
 
 " That town is well situated, and appears 
 very large. How different is the aspect of 
 this fertile plain to the country we have 
 hitherto traversed," observed the Italian. 
 
 '' There is a splended species of stone 
 found here,'' said their guide, " called Pretra 
 de Lavagna ; it is harder than marble, and 
 of a most beautiful black. You may reach 
 Parma from this town/' continued the guide, 
 " by a very good open road, passing by 
 Varese, the whole distance not exceeding 
 twelve leagues." 
 
 " I wish I had known that," said Signor 
 Orsini, turning to his attendant, who rode 
 close beside him, " We came from Modena, 
 and have made a considerable circuit, which 
 might have been avoided had I heard of the 
 road."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 95 
 
 " Ah ! signor," replied the guide, " it is not 
 the interest of the muleteers or the other gistes 
 to put travellers on that road. At all events, 
 you have seen a great deal more of the 
 country." 
 
 " And paid a great deal more for the seeing 
 it, amico^'' said the Italian, in a quiet tone; 
 " but here vve are." 
 
 They passed over the the long and very 
 steep bridge crossing the Lavagna, and entered 
 the then busy and commercial town of 
 Chiavare. At the Eiu d'Or, the best hotel, the 
 travellers stopped, and the Baron enquired of 
 the Italian how long he proposed halting at 
 Chiavare; as . the day was yet young they 
 could easily reach Sestri di Levante that 
 night ; that he had to visit a nobleman who 
 resided close to the town ; but that two 
 hours would be sufficient for him, and that 
 he should feel much pleasure in continuing 
 the journey in his company. 
 
 " I should be equally pleased, Signor, '' 
 said the Italian ;'' but I am sorely pressed
 
 96 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 for time. I shall not stop more than ten 
 minutes, to procure fresh mules and a guide; 
 I wish to reach Genoa to-night. It is only- 
 eight leagues from hence." 
 
 '^ After your accident," remarked the Baron, 
 " will not the ride be too much for jou?" 
 
 '' Not at all," replied the Signer Orsini ; 
 " they were travelling bruises. Besides, I have 
 pressing business." 
 
 "Ha!" muttered the Baron to himself, ''be 
 wants to get rid of me ; but he shall not do 
 so easily." 
 
 " Well," said De NewhofP, aloud," I will not 
 lose so agreeable a companion if! can help it." 
 
 Orsini made an inclination of the head, but 
 no other reply. 
 
 " I can procure horses here," continued the 
 Baron, " and will do my best to overtake you, 
 so adieu for the present." 
 
 While the Italian was arranging for fresh 
 mules, and paying his guide, the Baron en- 
 quired of the landlord where the mansion of 
 the Count de Eivalora was situated.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 97 
 
 "Not five minutes' walk from the west 
 end of the town, Signor. You cannot make 
 any mistake, for it is the first residence on the 
 right hand, on the road to Genoa, after quit- 
 ting the town." 
 
 Placing his packet of letters in his vest, the 
 Baron set off, without taking any other re- 
 freshment than a glass of wine and a biscuit. 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 98 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE VIJ. 
 
 No sooner was the Baron out of sight than 
 Signor Orsini and his attendant entered a 
 private chamber of the hotel. Carefully 
 shutting the door, the attendant said to his 
 master, who had seated himself in a chair, 
 
 " Now, holy father, what is to be done ? 
 What a fatality to stumble upon this meddling 
 Baron de Newhoff. He is on his way to 
 join his nephew, I have no doubt. He, how- 
 ever, knows nothing of us, nor has he the most 
 remote idea of our being anything else than 
 mere travellers.' ' 
 
 " I don't know that — I don't know that," 
 said the priest, rather sharply : " had we not
 
 * BROKEN FETTERS. 99 
 
 picked lip the letter addressed to him, and 
 which, it seems, he has not missed, he would 
 assuredly have deceived us. His commenc- 
 ing a conversation at once leading to persons 
 and things in Germany looks suspicious. I 
 recollect, too, we had apartments adjoining 
 those he occupied at that miserable venta 
 where we were forced to sleep last night. 
 The partition was very slight between the 
 rooms. He might have heard our conversa- 
 tion. We had then no suspicion, and as we 
 spoke in German, we thought ourselves safe." 
 
 " But, holy father, we must adopt some 
 plan by which he will be prevented joining 
 us again. It will never do to let him enter 
 Genoa with us. We must baffle him there. 
 However, he may not have the slightest sus- 
 picion of who we are.'* 
 
 " But," said the Jesuit, after a moment's 
 thought, '' if he does not overtake us on the 
 road, his suspicions will be aroused." 
 
 A knock at the door caused the priest to 
 pause. The landlord entered. 
 
 F 2
 
 100 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " Strange to say, slgnor, there are no 
 fresh mules to be had. I have sent all 
 over the town, in vain ; a large party of 
 Lombard packmen from Parma swept the 
 town of every available animal. There is, 
 however, a most favourable opportunity, signor, 
 if you do not dislike the sea. A fine felucca 
 will put to sea in a few minutes. I have sent 
 to stay the padrone^ till I had spoken to 
 you. The wind is highly favourable, and 
 you will reach Genoa in less than four hours.' 
 
 " How fortunate !'* exclaimed both master 
 and attendant, starting eagerly up, and thank- 
 ing the landlord, 
 
 " It is the very thing," said the priest, *' for 
 I am much fatigued with my journey, and I 
 can rest on board the felucca." 
 
 In a few minutes the Jesuit and his attend- 
 ant, with two men to carry their luggage, 
 took the road to the beach, and in ten minutes 
 more the felucca, with a fine breeze from the 
 eastward, was rapidly making the best of her 
 way for Genoa.
 
 BROKEN FETTEkS. 101 
 
 In less than four hours, the felucca was 
 safely at anchor in the noble and spacious 
 harbour of Genoa. Putting their baggage 
 into a small boat, the two voyagers were pat 
 on shore, as the dusk of evening fell on the 
 narrow streets and magnificent palaces and 
 mansions of that city of kings. At the prin- 
 cipal landing place of the Porta del Mare, 
 several porters stood waiting to be em- 
 ployed. But the Signor Orsini politely 
 declined the services, and, leaving his attend- 
 ant in charge of their luggage, he wrapped 
 his mantle closely about him, and passing 
 through the immense iron gates, entered the 
 city. 
 
 Genoa is now as well-known to the English 
 as the City of London — perhaps, much better 
 to many. It has a strange and singular 
 appearance to a traveller, on his first visit ; 
 but he soon gets accustomed to its miserably 
 narrow streets, which in rainy weather are 
 inundated by the sheets of water falling from 
 the projecting eaves of ma isions of immense
 
 102 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 height and appropriate appearance, all 
 apparently fit for the residence of princes. 
 There are, however, three or four magnificent 
 streets, probably not to be surpassed in 
 Europe for the grandeur of their palaces and 
 the chaste beauty of their entrances. 
 
 The Italian, passing along the lofty wall 
 bordering the harbour, entered the narrow 
 street leading into the square of the Annun- 
 ciata, into which runs the noble street 
 called Balbi. Striking away to the right, he 
 plunged into those numerous narrow and 
 obscure pathways leading from the Piazza 
 Amorosa. Though enshrouded in the shades 
 of evening, the pedestrian pursued his way as 
 correctly as if it had been broad daylight, 
 and presently stopped in a very deserted 
 quarter of the city. The street was not more 
 than fifteen feet broad, and the houses on, 
 each side were seven or eight stories high ; 
 there were no lamps of any kind ; and 
 except here or there tapers, placed in small 
 cases, containing the image of some favourite
 
 BKOKEN FETTERS. 103 
 
 saint, there was not a glimmer of light to 
 enliven the dark and deserted locality. 
 
 The Jesuit at length stopped before a very 
 lofty and gloomy-looking mansion; a shrine 
 to the Virgin, some twenty or thirty paces off, 
 threw a very faint light against the front of 
 this building. Every window appeared closed, 
 and, on the outside, ranges of thick iron bars 
 gave it the look of either a prison or a mad- 
 house. In the massive doorway was fixed an 
 iron ring, which the priest pulled with some 
 difficulty, for it appeared as if it had become 
 fast with rust and want of use. 
 
 After the lapse of about five minutes, a 
 slide in the door was pushed back, and 
 through a small iron grating appeared the 
 bald head of a very old man ; in his hand he 
 held a lamp. In a rather strong and harsh 
 voice, he demanded, with very little civility, 
 and certainly with no courteousness, 
 
 " Who rings ? — what do you want, eh ?" 
 The Jesuit, without replying, pushed a 
 small card through the grating, on which
 
 104 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 were some figures, but no writing. The old 
 man took the card, cast the light of his lamp 
 on it, and immediately bowed very low, 
 saying, 
 
 " Subito, suhito^ Fadre^' and then a key 
 was turned in the lock, several huge bolts 
 shot back, the ponderous door swung open, 
 and the priest entered. The old man again 
 bowed very low, and was shutting the door, 
 when the Jesuit asked,^ 
 
 " Is your son in the house, Ambrosio ?" 
 
 " He is, Father." 
 
 " That is fortunate. Send him at once to 
 the Quay, at the Porte del Mare ; he will see a 
 man sitting on two leather trunks. Tell him 
 to enquire of that person if that is the bag- 
 gage of Signor Orsini. Let him take charge 
 of the trunks, and conduct my attendant here. 
 He is a stranger to this city." 
 
 The old man closed the hall door without 
 locking it, and said, 
 
 " Let me first show you to your apart- 
 ments, Father *, for it is a good step to the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 105 
 
 kitchen. I will also tell my wife to make 
 ready your supper. Your room is all pre- 
 pared, for we have been expecting you for 
 the last week.'^ 
 
 Passing along the lofty and unfurnished 
 hall, they came to a spiral stone staircase, as- 
 cending to the first story. The old man 
 threw open a door, and they entered a large 
 and well-furnished saloon, though, it is true, 
 the articles were of some antiquity. Several 
 large pictures in cumbrous frames hung on 
 the walls, all of which were covered with 
 green baize. At the further end, facing the 
 fire-place, was a kind of altar, on which stood 
 a silver crucifix, with the body of the Saviour 
 cast in the same metal, the whole above three 
 feet in height. Several books, richly bound, 
 lay upon a table. 
 
 Lighting a handsome antique lamp, the old 
 man, after bowing very low, retired, saying, 
 
 " Your reverence shall have supper almost 
 immediately. Your attendant shall not be 
 long absent ;'' and pointing to a door, con- 
 
 F 5
 
 106 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 tinued, '' that, Holy Father, leads to your 
 and your attendant's sleeping chamber." 
 
 Left alone, the Jesuit threw aside his 
 niantle, placed a packet of letters upon the 
 table, and then, with his hands behind his 
 back, paced the chamber in a thoughtful and 
 abstracted mood. He was roused by the 
 return of the old domestic, who came back 
 and gave him several letters, saying : 
 
 " These, reverend father, I received at tbe 
 place indicated to me, and I have done every- 
 thing in my power to obey the instructions 
 you sent me by letter.*' 
 
 '' Good,'' said the priest, looking over the 
 backs of the letters. " How long has the 
 Count de Briesbach been in Genoa ?'' 
 
 *' Up to this afternoon, he had not arrived, 
 Padre," replied the old man. 
 
 " Not arrived !'' replied the priest. '' That 
 is scarcely possible. The Count left Turin 
 ten days since and took the direct road to 
 Genoa.'' 
 
 *' Then, father, he must travel by another
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 107 
 
 name ; for no such person as the Count de 
 Briesbach has put up at any of the hotels in 
 this city ; of that I am certain. My son and 
 I have never failed a single day to make 
 cautious enquiries. We strictly examined the 
 alhergos of San Pietro d' Arena, and even 
 the locandas of the second class, hut no one 
 is acquainted with the name of the Count de 
 Briesbach." 
 
 " Very strange, and to me unaccountable," 
 said the priest. " Is there any news of im- 
 portance talked about in Genoa?" 
 
 " Yes, your reverence, there has been con- 
 siderable interest, as well as indignation, 
 excited all through the city, especially 
 amongst the higher classes, by the stoppage 
 of the Countess di Sera's carriage by a noted 
 brigand on the Bochetta. The Countess was 
 plundered of all her baggage and jewels ; but 
 worst of all, the brigands carried off her 
 daughter or her ward, and intend keeping 
 her captive in the mountains till an immense 
 ransom has been paid."
 
 108 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " The brigands of the Bochetta are becom- 
 ing dangerous, and should be put down," said 
 the priest. 
 
 " They say also that a young signor was 
 riding in company with the Countess, who, 
 with two of the brigands and one of the 
 gens d'armes^ was killed. But this part of the 
 intelligence requires confirmation, for the 
 signor' s body has not been found, though the 
 postillions declare they saw him shot and 
 fall over the cliff." 
 
 "How long is it since this occurred?" 
 asked the Jesuit, eagerly fixing his pene- 
 trating eyes on the dim grey orbs of the old 
 domestic. 
 
 " Let me see," and he began counting the 
 days of the week on his fingers. " Yes, — 
 yesterday — eight days exactly.'^ 
 
 " Then most likely it must be so," said 
 the priest, and even in his sallow, pale cheek 
 a slight sign of colour was perceptible. 
 " That signor was the Count de Briesbach. 
 It is not likely, however, that he was killed,
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 109 
 
 more probably detained a prisoner. Leave 
 me now, Ambrosio, and send up my attendant 
 the moment he arrives." 
 
 The old man bowed, saying : 
 
 '' How soon will your reverence like to have 
 supper?" 
 
 " As soon as possible ; but let it be a 
 frugal repast, — something very simple and 
 plainly cooked.'' 
 
 The old man retired.
 
 110 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 Otho de Briesbach calculated that with his 
 own good steed he could very well accompany 
 his new acquaintance as far as Campomarino, 
 a distance of some thirty miles. He there- 
 fore rose at an early hour and saw that the 
 animal was well fed and groomed, and then 
 joined the ladies at breakfast. 
 
 '' We shall, at all events," said the Count- 
 ess, " have a remarkably fine day. As you 
 are a stranger, Count, to this part of the 
 country, you will enjoy some of the scenery. 
 From the summit of the Bochetta you will 
 have a splendid view, if the atmosphere con- 
 tinues as clear as it is now. It struck me
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. Ill 
 
 last night, just after you left us, that your 
 horse will not carry you further than Vol- 
 tazzio without rest/' 
 
 " I am told," said the Count, " it is only 
 about thirty miles from here to Campomarino, 
 at the foot of the mountain on the other side. 
 Your stopping for an hour at Yoltazzio for re- 
 freshment will be quite sufficient for my 
 horse. He has done harder service, with the 
 chance of being shot into the bargain." 
 
 " Did that handsome animal you rode 
 yesterday carry you into battle ?" asked 
 Vannina, " if so you must be very much 
 attached to it." 
 
 " And so I am, fair lady,'' said the Count ; 
 '' that is the identical horse which carried me 
 across the river to attack those marauders 
 infesting your convent during the late war." 
 
 ''If you will accept a seat in our carriage 
 from Campomarino," said the Countess, " one 
 of my attendants can bring on your horse the 
 following day ; thus you will save passing a
 
 112 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 lonely evening at so dull a place. It is dis- 
 tant from Genoa four posts/' 
 
 To this arrangement the Count most 
 willingly acceded, and immediately after 
 breakfast the party left Novi. They were to be 
 joined by four gens d'armes at Voltazzio, from 
 which town the ascent of the Bochetta com- 
 mences. Excepting the strong fortress of Gavi, 
 perched upon a rocky eminence, there was 
 nothing very remarkable to attract the atten- 
 tion of the travellers. From the nature of the 
 road they travelled slowly, and the Count en- 
 joyed riding by the side of the open carriage, 
 in conversation with the ladies most part of 
 the way to Voltazzio. 
 
 After an hour's rest and refreshment, accom- 
 panied by four tall and powerful gens dJarmes^ 
 well mounted and armed, the party left 
 Voltazzio and commenced the ascent of the 
 highest mountain in the range of the Mari- 
 time Alps. As you mount, a wilder or more 
 desolate scene it is impossible to see.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 113 
 
 " A charming place for brigands,' ' said the 
 Countess to our hero, as he rode by the side 
 of the carriage with his gaze fixed, we are 
 bound to admit, oftener upon the sparkling 
 eyes and animated features of Vannina di 
 Matra^ than on the wild and vast crags that 
 everywhere surrounded them. 
 
 " A most unpromising tract to pursue them 
 in,'' returned Otho ; " in fact, regular troops 
 would find it impossible to act amidst such 
 crags and precipices, where every rock 
 afford shelter and security to the robbers to 
 cut off their pursuers." 
 
 " That no doubt is the reason they have 
 existed for so many years amid these wilds — 
 almost unmolested, or any attempt made to 
 drive them out," said the Countess, " for no 
 sooner has a wretch committed a crime in 
 Genoa than he goes, as it is styled, ' to take 
 the air of the mountain.' In fact, according 
 to report, the whole range of these wild Alpine 
 passes is populated with runaway galley 
 slaves, assassins, forgers, robbers, and heaven
 
 114 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 knows, men guilty of every crime capable of 
 being committed/* 
 
 " These wild crags and precipices/* observed 
 Vannina, looking down a tremendous gorge 
 into a wild and sterile valley, many hundred 
 feet below them, "puts me strangely in mind 
 of my own mountain home. I was a mere 
 child when I left it, but T have a perfect re- 
 collection of the wild and magnificent scenery 
 that surrounded our mansion/* 
 
 At that moment the party was startled by 
 the report of three or four gun shots fired in 
 succession just ahead of them. The gens- 
 dJarmes and the Countess's attendants unslung 
 their carbines, and the Count hastily drew 
 a pistol from one of the holsters and examined 
 the priming. Just before them was an 
 abrupt angle in the road, turning round the 
 base of a mass of lofty crags. Several more 
 shots came from the other side of the rock. 
 The postillions halted, while the gens d'armes 
 galloped rapidly forward and turned the angle 
 of the rock. The Count de Briesbach called
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 115 
 
 loudly and rode forward to restrain them 
 from qui tting their charge, rightly guessing 
 the firing was some subterfuge of the 
 brigands. 
 
 " Good heavens, Vannina !" cried the Coun- 
 tess, " this is getting serious. These brigands 
 may be very picturesque at a distance ; but 
 really—" 
 
 Scarcely had the words been spoken, when, 
 as if by magic, springing from behind innu- 
 merable rocks that had concealed them, some 
 twenty lawless ruffians surrounded the car- 
 riage, one of whom seized the bridle of Otho's 
 horse ; but paid dearly for it, the Count fell- 
 ing him to the ground with a blow from the 
 butt of his pistol, and spurring his spirited 
 steed, he called to the astonished and frigh- 
 tened domestics to make a dash at the brigands. 
 There was no sign of the return of the gens 
 darmes ; they had evidently fallen into a trap 
 and were secured, for the Count heard two or 
 three rapid shots. 
 
 The Countess's attendants were speedily
 
 116 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 disarmed, and though the Count shot down 
 another of the ruffians, to his astonishment 
 no pistol or carbine was levelled at him, though 
 several of the men strove eagerly to pull him 
 from his horse. A wild shriek from the car- 
 riage, which was some yards behind, caused 
 him to spur his horse fiercely ; and striking 
 down the man who held him, with his dragoon 
 sabre, which he carried, he pressed through 
 the crowd of enraged men, who struck at him 
 with the butts of their carbines ; he reached 
 the carriage just in time to perceive one of 
 the robbers with Vannina in his arms, hurry- 
 ing down the steep precipitous rocks that 
 bordered the road. 
 
 Instantly dismounting, in despite of the 
 efforts of the brigands, though one — enraged at 
 a wound he had received — fired full in the 
 face of de Briesbach ; fortunately the piece 
 flashed in the pan, and the villain bounded 
 over the side of the road, hotly pursued by 
 Otho, till, seeing a powerful bandit carrying 
 Vannina in his arms, with apparently as much
 
 BROKEN FETTEES. 117 
 
 ease as he would have carried a child, instantly 
 gave over the pursuit, and turned his attention 
 to the other robber, who was about a hundred 
 yards in advance. 
 
 The path the Count pursued, if path it could 
 be called, was a terrible one — a mere ledge 
 running along the side of a precipice more 
 than six hundred feet deep. Eight before the 
 path of the robber was a cascade, foaming and 
 boiling and tumbling over huge masses of rock 
 and sending up into the air a cloud of foam. 
 Otho de Briesbach was a strong, active man, 
 with a determined and unshrinking resolution; 
 but the robber kept the same distance in 
 advance, although carrying Vannina in his 
 arms ; but this was owing to being well acquain- 
 ted with the niceties of the path, evidently one 
 used by the brigands. Otho raised his pistol 
 several times, but hesitated to fire ; not that 
 he doubted hitting the maiden and not the 
 robber — for he had no mistrust of his aim ; 
 but he feared that in killing or wounding the
 
 118 BEOKEN FITTEKS. 
 
 man both would be hurled into the valley 
 below. 
 
 " Well," said the Count, almost breathless, 
 " that cascade will stop the villain ;'' but just 
 as he reached the edge the brigand stopped. 
 Ourhero could perceive Vannina struggling 
 in his arms, and he advanced eagerly to within 
 three or four paces of the robber, who, holding 
 Vannina firmly with one hand, presented a 
 horse-pistol with the other, with a savage 
 curse, at the breast of the Count. At the 
 instant a loud and startling voice exclaimed — 
 
 " Hold ! on your life hold your fire, Pietro," 
 and with an active bound, a man sprung from 
 an adjoining rock, and leaped upon the narrow 
 ledge on which the robber stood. 
 
 Otho held his pistol still extended; the 
 stranger turned round and looked him full in 
 the face, saying— 
 
 " Mille Diavolo^ Count, we have met sooner 
 than I anticipated." 
 
 Otho seemed confounded, for before him
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 119 
 
 stood his travelling companion of the day 
 previous. 
 
 " And just in the nick of time/' continued 
 the stranger. " Put up your pistol, Pietro, 
 and let the lady have the protection of that 
 signor's arm to the caverns. Did I not tell 
 you on no account to fire upon this gentle- 
 man r 
 
 " Body of me, captain ! " exclaimed the 
 man named Pietro ; " what would you have 
 me do ? By my soul, it was getting a nice 
 point between us ; if I did not shoot him he'd 
 have shot me to a certainty ;" and letting go 
 the maiden, he put his pistol back into his 
 belt. 
 
 Vannina no sooner found herself free than 
 she sprung to the side of De Briesbach, with 
 an exclamation of intense joy. 
 
 '' Dear lady,'' said the Count, placing the 
 arm of the fair girl within his, " I know you 
 are greatly and justly terrified ; but as long 
 as life is left me no hurt shall come to you.'' 
 
 " Oh ! signor, I have no fear now ; till I
 
 120 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 saw you following us my heart nearly failed 
 me, and I do believe that had I not been so 
 firmly held, I should have thrown myself 
 over the precipice sooner than remain alone 
 in the hands of these brigands/' 
 
 The captain of the band, who had stood 
 apart conversing in a low tone with the 
 man Pietro, now approached the Count, 
 who saw, as he looked round, several of the 
 men who had plundered the Countess's car- 
 riage, descending the rocks by different 
 paths. 
 
 " Count,'' said the Captain, " I can say but 
 few words to you now ; but of this rest as- 
 sured, neither you nor that lady shall receive 
 the slightest hurt or insult. We must pro- 
 ceed to our retreat ; she shall remain under 
 your care." 
 
 " Thank God ! " murmured Vannina ; and 
 the Count could feel the little arm that rested 
 on his tremble. 
 
 " Where I shall take you and the lady," 
 continued the Captain ; "there will be none of
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 121 
 
 my comrades in the same cave, only a middle- 
 aged woman and a very young girl. Are you 
 content with my word, Count? I owe you 
 gratitude for a life preserved. I may say I 
 have saved yours, but still I consider myself 
 your debtor." 
 
 " Is it impossible to restore this lady to her 
 friends to-night ? For myself, I will remain 
 your hostage till any sum you demand is 
 faithfully paid." 
 
 " I tell you. Count," said the Captain, 
 firmly, but in a kindly tone, " it is utterly 
 impossible. You see my comrades are gather- 
 ing around ; I pray you follow me, for " — 
 and he sunk his voice to a very low tone — " I 
 am not the only captain in the expedition. 
 Marco Eemini is a blood-thirsty and ferocious 
 man. I would not wish him to see this lady, 
 so follow me, and shelter your fair friend 
 from the water of the cascade as well as you 
 can as we pass through the spray. She will 
 have her luggage in less than half an hour." 
 
 Otho de Briesbach hesitated for one mo- 
 
 YOL. I. G
 
 122 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ment, as he looked round and counted more 
 than fifteen of the robbers approaching in 
 various directions. 
 
 " Do not hesitate, Count, '' whispered 
 Vannina. '' I have faith, indeed I have, in 
 that man's words; he means you well. How 
 very fortunate was your chance meeting with 
 him;' 
 
 " It must be so, dear lady,*' said Otho, put- 
 ting his pistol in his vest; " we must bend to 
 circumstances. You have a noble courage, 
 thank God, and I trust a few hours, at most a 
 couple of days, will release you from this 
 trial/' 
 
 The captain of the robbers moved forward 
 alone, Pietro having descended a steep cliff, 
 and was out of sight. It required some nerve 
 to follow the robber chief ; the cascade 
 threw a sheet of spray over the two as they 
 approached, and actually passed beneath its 
 splendid arch, which fell over their heads in 
 the form of a vast bow, and striking a range 
 of rocks some eighty or a hundred feet below,
 
 BKOKEN FETTERS. 123 
 
 shot a cloud of foam of dazzling whiteness 
 into the air. 
 
 Otho de Briesbach pressed the fair girl, 
 who shewed no sign of fear, close to his side 
 as they trod the narrow, slippery ledge that 
 ran along the perpendicular cliff, over which 
 shot the cascade, which, falling into the 
 valley below, wound from thence through the 
 plain of Campomarino, and then became lost 
 in the waters of the Mediterranean, 
 
 After passing through this thick, wetting, 
 spray of the cascade, the uproar of which 
 was deafening, the Count spoke some words 
 of encouragement to the fair girl, though in 
 truth she braved the terrors of the passage" 
 with singular nerve. 
 
 " Oh ! signor, all this is nothing ; the body 
 only suffers here. If alone with these men, 
 to go all through all this, my torture of mind 
 would indeed have been great. But where on 
 earth does this singular robber intend taking 
 us, for I do not see how we can advance 
 twenty yards further. Look ! he has stopped.'^ 
 
 G 2
 
 124 BROKEN FETTEKP. 
 
 They approached the Captain, who stood 
 on the edge of a very limited plat-form, look- 
 ing over its side. 
 
 " Your dangerous journey ends here, sig- 
 nora," said the Captain. '' Lady, you have 
 great courage and good nerve, as well as 
 your protector, the Count ; for I have never 
 yet seen anyone, except our own men, attempt 
 the precipice down which you. Count, so fear- 
 lessly plunged. I watched you, fearing lest 
 you might overtake Pietro, one of the boldest 
 and strongest men in our gang, or that he 
 would lose temper and do mischief. 1 was 
 forced, at the risk of my own neck, to descend 
 by a very dangerous track, to enable me to 
 cut }0U short before you could reach 
 him." 
 
 '' I trust no harm was done to the Countess 
 di Sera ?'' asked Yannina, in a timid, anxious 
 manner. 
 
 " No further harm, siguora, than the loss of 
 her baggage, and whatever articles of value 
 she possessed. She was allowed to pursue her
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 125 
 
 journey. I did not stay to see her depart, 
 but I know my orders were strictly obeyed," 
 
 *^ What became of the gens d^armes T de- 
 manded the Count. " Had it not been for 
 their inconsiderate conduct, this catastrophe 
 could not have occurred. They undoubtedly 
 allowed themselves to be led into a snare." 
 
 " It was done,'* replied the captain, " prin- 
 cipally to save shedding blood. You are 
 wrong, however, in supposing this would not 
 have happened, for there were nearly thirty 
 men, not easily to be frightened, on the 
 road. Had you and the gens dJarmes shewn 
 fight together, the men would most certainly 
 have been shot." 
 
 " Perhaps," said the Count, drily. " I have 
 seen greater odds, and not despaired; but 
 what became of them ?" 
 
 " They were thrown from their horses by 
 ropes stretched across that narrow pass, 
 through which they so heedlessly galloped, 
 and secured with very trifling bruises." 
 
 While the robber spoke, a head suddenly
 
 126 BROKEN FETIERS. 
 
 appeared over the side of the cliff. It was 
 one of the brigands, who, addressing the Cap- 
 tain, said, 
 
 " If the signora is afraid of the ladder, we 
 can sling a large basket, with ropes." 
 
 Otho advanced to the edge of the cliff, and 
 perceived that a long ladder of ropes, secured 
 with iron pins to the fissures in the perpendi- 
 cular cliff upon which they stood, had been 
 prepared tor their descent to a lovrer platform, 
 some fifty or sixty feet down. 
 
 "You had better carry the lady down that 
 ladder. Count,'' said the Captain. 
 
 " There appears to be no other way of 
 descending. Will you trust yourself to me, 
 dear lady?" said Otho. 
 
 The colour was bright upon the maiden's 
 cheek, as slie replied, 
 
 " I have brought you into trouble, Count, 
 and fear I must continue a burden to you; 
 for I assuredly do not think I could descend 
 that ladder alone." 
 
 The Count wrapped Vannina's mantle
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 127 
 
 tightly around her, and lifting her tenderly and 
 carefully — though we must confess the lady 
 was not one of those unsubstantial beings, 
 light as a feather, but real, substantial flesh 
 and blood — carried her safely down the 
 ladder, and on gaining the platform beheld 
 a tall, middle-aged woman, with a counte- 
 nance rather prepossessing than otherwise, 
 waiting to receive them. 
 
 The Count and Vannina followed the 
 womaa into the entrance of an immense 
 cavern, from which they could perceive that 
 numerous others branched off in various direc- 
 tions. Passing into one of these, they were 
 surprised to see it arranged into a very com- 
 fortable species of chamber. The sides were 
 hung with matting, a large iron lamp was 
 suspended from the roof, twenty feet above 
 their heads; a fire blazed in a regular 
 chimney place, and the smoke was carried 
 off by an aperture above. A table of oak, 
 and several chairs of the same material were 
 also there.
 
 128 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ''This is my chamber, and a small one 
 adjoining contains a bed," said the Captain, 
 entering with them ; " this woman will sleep 
 within with the signora, who can occupy this 
 room during the day. You and I, Count, 
 will find quarters in another cave on the oppo- 
 site side. Where is little Jacqueline?" he 
 he asked, turning to the woman. 
 
 '' Within, lying on the bed ; she is not quite 
 well," replied the female, in a very gentle 
 tone of voice. '' Will you follow me, sig- 
 nora?" she continued, addressing Vanuina. 
 " Your trunks are already brought, and you 
 can change your clothes, which I fear are 
 very wet." 
 
 Yannina looked at the Count for a moment 
 as if hesitating, and the brigand seeming to 
 guess her thoughts, said, speaking in a kind 
 but serious tone — 
 
 " You may let your mind rest in peace; 
 excepting that you will for a few days be 
 separated from your relatives and friends. In 
 every other respect you will be as safe here as
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 129 
 
 if you were at home. Now, Count, follow 
 me ; in an hour you can rejoin the lady 
 here and partake of some refreshment. As for 
 myself, I shall not intrude upon the privacy 
 of the lady till I have the pleasure of restoring 
 her to her family." 
 
 Eespectfully saluting the fair hand held out 
 to him, the Count retired with the Captain 
 into the outward cavern, which also contained 
 a wide fire-place and every kind of article 
 arranged in great order and cleanliness for the 
 purposes of cooking. A massive oak table 
 and half-a-dozen wooden benches completed 
 its furniture. 
 
 " This range of caverns," said the brigand 
 to the Count, " is appropriated to the use of 
 myself, my lieutenant, and ten men; but 
 during your stay, only Pietro, the man you 
 have already seen, will remain here. Three 
 hundred yards below us is a much greater 
 extent of caverns, extending within the moun- 
 tains, perhaps more than a mile ; and when 
 you examine the situation of these extra- 
 
 G 5
 
 130 BEOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ordinary caverns, more than seven hundred 
 feet above the level of the valley below, and 
 not to be attained by strangers, except with 
 immense labor and great danger, you will 
 see how difficult any attempt would be to dis- 
 lodge us. Besides, these caverns have other 
 outlets ; and so well known to us are the 
 valleys and gorges of these mountains, that 
 we could as easily bafle an army as the Pro- 
 testant chief of the Camissards in Languedoc 
 resisted the troops sent against him, a few 
 years ago, by the French King, who found 
 it impossible to drive that chief out of his 
 mountain fastnesses." 
 
 "But they might surround you, and cut 
 you off from all supplies," said the Count ; 
 " and it strikes me as most astonishing, that a 
 powerful state like Genoa should submit to 
 such an astounding state of things; that a 
 robber force should actually dwell amid the 
 very hills that back their city, infest their only 
 road, I may say, into the interior of the coun- 
 try, and by which road all their inland com-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 131 
 
 merce is carried on. Altogether the know- 
 ledge amazes me." 
 
 "You will be more amazed then, signor 
 * Count," returned the brigand, a little sharply, 
 '' when I tell jou that actually within the 
 very walls of Genoa, there exists, at this 
 present hour, a gang of regular assassins — 
 not robbers — but systematic assassins — an 
 organised establishment, with their chief, and 
 that a scale of charges, according to rank, 
 station, or risk, is laid down." 
 
 " Indeed, I am more than amazed," said 
 the Count. 
 
 " Thus, you see, Count, a man can gratify 
 his malice or vengance on any one who has 
 offended him, or get an heir removed, who is 
 in the way of his succession, for a few gold 
 pieces, and without running scarcely any risk 
 himself" 
 
 " Then the sooner so corrupt a Eepublic is 
 blotted out of the states of Europe the better," 
 said the Count. 
 
 " That period is not very far distant," re-
 
 ]32 BROKEN FETIERS. 
 
 plied the Captain ; " the Republic now groans 
 under the tyranny of Austria. There willbe a 
 popular tumult one of these days, a last spark 
 springing up out of the smouldering ashes of 
 past glory to sink afterwards into utter no- 
 thingness.'' 
 
 0th o de Briesbach looked with some sur- 
 prise at the robber, saying — 
 
 "Could not you turn your talents and 
 energies into a — '' 
 
 " Come, come, Count,'' hastily interrupted 
 the brigand chief, " sa} nothing more now ; 
 another time, perhaps, before we part, you 
 may wile away an hour listening to some 
 passages in my life. T never was good for 
 much, even from my earliest recollections ; 
 now, however, I must leave you. I will place 
 no restrictions on you; do as you like; you 
 are free as far as ransom is concerned, for T 
 take none from you. I know you will not 
 wish to leave the lady you so gallantly 
 followed to rescue till she is released. Per- 
 haps," and the captain looked fixedly in the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 133 
 
 Count's face, " you will not refuse a flask of 
 wine to-uiglit, and take it in my company ; I 
 shall then be able to inform you of our ar- 
 rangements with respect to the lady's 
 ransom.'' 
 
 " No," said the Count, '' I shall not refuse 
 your offer. You have, at all events, acted 
 generously and kindly towards the lady, and 
 I feel grateful for it; for, in truth, it might 
 have been much worse/* 
 
 " If you knew all. Count,'' said the robber, 
 as he left the cave, " you would not only say 
 but think so.'' 
 
 After the departure of the captain of the 
 brigands, Otho remained wrapped in thought; 
 the events of the last forty-eight hours made 
 a strong impression on his mind, and he felt 
 would, in all probability, have a powerful in- 
 fluence on the rest of his life. We will not 
 assert that he was, as yet, absolutely in love 
 with the gentle girl he had done his best to 
 rescue ; but thus much we may say, she oc- 
 cupied most of his thoughts, and that she
 
 134 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 deeply interested him, not only by her ex- 
 ceeding beauty of face and form, but by the 
 endurance and firmness she displayed, con- 
 sidering how young she was. The strange 
 situation into which they had been thrown 
 would, undoubtedly, add to the mutual feel- 
 ing they already felt for each other, and it 
 was very evident to the Count that when the 
 time came for them to separate, he would feel 
 that he was no long as heart whole as before 
 he met this Corsican maiden. 
 
 From this train of thought he was roused 
 by the entrance of the woman to whose care 
 Vannina was entrusted. 
 
 " Signer,^' said the female, "the lady has 
 changed her dress and wishes to see you, 
 while I go to prepare some refreshments/^ 
 
 The Count looked into this woman's features, 
 whom he supposed to be the wife of one of the 
 brigands. He thought he perceived in her 
 countenance an appearance of great care ; her 
 age might be about forty-seven, or, perhaps, 
 fifty ; her hair was still black and untouched by
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 135 
 
 time ; her eyes dark and somewhat wandering 
 in their expression. Altogether, there was 
 nothing disagreeable or repulsive in her look, 
 and her manner was very quiet and gentle. 
 The Count proceeded to join Vannina, and 
 the woman went to her cooking operations.
 
 136 BKOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 Otho be Beiesbachl was surprised when he 
 entered the cave, where he expected to find 
 Vannina alone, to perceive a very interesting 
 little girl of ten or eleven years of age seated 
 by her side, and to whom she was talking 
 quite cheerfully. Vannina received the Count 
 with a smile of undisguised pleasure. 
 
 "" You see," she said, as the Count seated 
 himself by the log fire — for the caves were 
 more or less always cold — " you see I have 
 found a very youthful companion, and a very 
 interesting one, too. This little girl — Jacque- 
 line is her name — is the daughter of the 
 female you have seen, and her mother is, I 
 assure you, a very kind person."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 137 
 
 '' Have jou been in these dismal caves, my 
 poor child, all your life?" asked the Count, 
 speaking kindly, and drawing the child to- 
 wards him. 
 
 The little girl was at first shy and timid ; 
 she, however, looked on the handsome face of 
 the Count, and gathering courage from the 
 gentle and kind expression of his features, 
 replied — 
 
 " I don't recollect any other home." 
 
 '' Have you never seen any other place?" 
 
 '' No ; all that I have ever seen of the 
 country is from what I have witnessed from 
 the entrance to the caverns. Mamma tells me 
 I was born a long, long way off.'' 
 
 '' I fancy," said Vannina, '^ from what her 
 mother said to me, that she has seen better 
 days, and was born to a more honest position 
 than a brigand's life. I take an interest in 
 this child," continued Vannina, " and would 
 wish to save the poor thing from the future 
 that appears before her." 
 
 '' A kind wish, and one that I will do my 
 part in helping you to carry out," said the
 
 138 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Count, putting his hand upon the head of the 
 child, who looked up and smiled a pleasant 
 smile. 
 
 " Has that strange man, the captain of 
 these robbers, informed you of how we are 
 to be released from these dismal caverns ?" 
 
 " How you are to be liberated, fair lady," 
 said Otho, with a meaning smile ; " I am no 
 longer a captive.'' 
 
 " What can you mean ?" 
 
 " Simply this, that the captain, from what 
 he calls owing me a debt of gratitude for once 
 saving his life, has told me he will take no 
 ransom from me, and has left me at liberty to 
 depart whenever I please." 
 
 A shade of sadness crossed the face of the 
 maiden, as she exclaimed, 
 
 " What will become of me ?" 
 
 " No harm shall reach you.'^ 
 
 '' Then you will not leave me ?" 
 
 " Not until I have seen you safe out of the 
 hands of these brigands." 
 
 '* I know I must be ransomed, but how 
 and when ; did the captain tell you T asked
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 139 
 
 Vannina, a flush of pleasure taking the place 
 of the shade of sadness on her face. 
 
 "As jet, signora, he has not; but this 
 night I expect to learn both the how and the 
 when. This captain is an extraordinary man ; 
 but apparently neither unkind nor unwilling 
 to render your situation as little irksome as 
 possible. It appears to me, from some ob- 
 servations of his, that, although he is captain 
 or leader of these brigands, there is another 
 chief, a man called Marco Eemini.^' 
 
 " Good Heaven ! is it possible ! " inter- 
 rupted Vannina, " can that wretch be amongst 
 them. I heard the Countess name this man 
 as being the chief of ferocious assassins and 
 robbers in the mountains between Alessandria 
 and Aqui. She said he was one of the 
 vilest wretches that ever lived ; that he had 
 committed nine murders in Genoa, and had 
 escaped from the galleys. What can he 
 have to do with the troop or gang of this 
 captain ? I tremble for our lives." 
 
 " Nay, dear lady, do not needlessly alarm
 
 140 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 yourself,'' said the Count. " How unfortunate 
 my mentioning this man's name." 
 
 " I know a way out of these caves," observed 
 the little girl, looking up into the sweet face 
 of Vannina, who held the child's hand in hers. 
 '' I found it out one day when I was playing, 
 and I showed it to my mamma.'' 
 
 " AVhat did your mamma say when you told 
 her ?" asked Otho. 
 
 '' She said it might be of some use at a 
 future day. Are you afraid of dark caves, 
 lady ? Oh ! I should so like to go out into 
 green fields and gather flowers, and catch the 
 beautiful butterflies ; they come some times in 
 summer to the entrance of the great cavern." 
 
 '' And so you shall, my child, if your 
 mamma will let you come with me.'' 
 
 *' I could not leave dear mamma ; may she 
 go, too?" 
 
 " Yes, she shall go if she likes. Do you 
 think," Vannina said, turning to Otho and 
 speaking in French, '' we could profit by this 
 dear child's intelligence ?"
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 141 
 
 " No, I fear not," said our hero, tliought- 
 fully, speaking in the same language. " We 
 are in the midst of a frightful range of preci- 
 pices, and though we might gain the exterior 
 of these caverns, it appears to me almost im- 
 possible that J ou could ever scale those rocks 
 or descend into the vale before those in pur- 
 suit overtook us.'' 
 
 " Alas ! too true,'' said Yannina, somewhat 
 despondently, " we must wait our time, I 
 am sincerely grateful to Providence in hav- 
 ing you to protect and advise me ; for other- 
 wise how terrible would be my thoughts and 
 feelings in these dismal caverns. Besides, 
 but for the unaccountable feeling this robber 
 captain entertains for you, we should have 
 fared very differently.'' 
 
 " At first I considered his kindness pro- 
 ceeded from my having been instrumental in 
 saving his life when we were attacked by 
 those Austrian marauders ; but I have since 
 imagined that, after becoming acquainted with 
 my name, a change has taken place in his
 
 142 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 manner. As I told you once before, I believe 
 he has been differently placed, for when he 
 pleases he has the manner and the appear- 
 ance of one accustomed to mix in better 
 society than we have found him in,'' added 
 the Count, with a smile. '' Another circum- 
 stance also comes to my memory. When I 
 met him on the road, he inquired whether 
 such a carriage as that you travelled in had 
 passed me. Now, that convinces me the 
 stoppage of the Countess di Sera's carriage 
 was a premeditated scheme, and decided on 
 some time previous to the attack. Yet, sin- 
 gular enough, this man, when parting from 
 me at the gates of Novi, said, ' Pray tell the 
 Countess the safest road to Genoa lies through 
 Alessandria and A qui, which advice, if fol- 
 lowed, would have prevented this catastrophe. 
 " Very true," thoughtfully replied Vannina. 
 "The Countess, before she left Turin, was 
 advised to take that road, and she merely 
 considered the brigand's message a repetition 
 of the same advice."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 143 
 
 " Another thing surprises me/' said the 
 Count; "why did they not carry off the 
 Countess di Sera? Perhaps they thought 
 you were her daughter, and that the mother 
 would stake her whole wealth to save her 
 child." 
 
 "That thought struck me," said Vannina; 
 " perhaps they think so still. Have you any 
 idea of the amount of ransom likely to be de- 
 manded for me ?'' asked Vannina, with a smile. 
 " In truth I shall value myself more highly 
 than I have hitherto done; for I suspect it 
 will cost my dear father a very large sum, 
 and my friends a great deal of trouble." 
 
 The Count was uttering some very gallant 
 reply to the fair Corsican, when the female 
 entering informed him that the Captain was 
 in the outer cave, and desired to see him. 
 Wishing the young lady a good night's 
 rest after all her fatigue and perils, he respect- 
 fully saluted the fair hand held out to him. 
 
 Otho de Briesbach proceeded to meet the 
 brigand chief, who was seated before a blaz-
 
 144 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ing log fire, with his back towards him as he 
 entered. A second chair was placed beside 
 the fire, and on the table close by stood flasks 
 of wine and two handsome goblets. 
 
 The Captain turned round as our hero en- 
 tered. Otho looked at him, almost doubting 
 his identity, for, most assuredly, he was very 
 unlike the robber of the morning. The dark 
 hair, whiskers, and moustache had dis- 
 appeared, which not only altered the appear- 
 ance but even the age of the robber, so much 
 so indeed that had Otho met hira elsewhere 
 he would assuredlv not have recoo-nised him. 
 He wore the same fanciful costume, however, 
 a close fitting dress, very much reserablirg 
 the attire of a Tyrolese sharp-shooter, only 
 profusely covered with small buttons, scarlet 
 braid, and a crimson sash in place of a 
 leather belt; but he had no weapons. 
 
 The brigand was apparently about six or 
 seven and twenty years of age, and the ex- 
 pression of his countenance, without either 
 whisker or moustache, was of a frank, careless,
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 145 
 
 and somewhat jovial character ; but the most 
 careful and determined disciple of Lavater 
 could not detect in his physiognomy any indi- 
 cation of his infamous profession. 
 
 "My change of wig, whiskers, and mous- 
 tache has, I see, Count, staggered you as to 
 my personality," said the robber, politely 
 handing him a chair; "you would not like to 
 swear to my identity.'' 
 
 " No, not to your general appearance, but 
 I could to your voice, which is somewhat re- 
 markable.'* 
 
 " Ah ! you are right there," said the brig- 
 and ; "my voice has before now nearly 
 betrayed me. I have often tried to change it, 
 but have never succeeded. How fares the 
 Countess's fair daughter ?" 
 
 " I fancy," replied the Count, looking 
 fixedly at the robber, " that you will find 
 you have carried off a different person to 
 the one you intended. The young lady is no 
 relative whatever of the Countess di Sera." 
 
 VOL. II. H
 
 146 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 The Captain looked surprised, but immedi- 
 ately said — 
 
 " Then upon my soul, I am very glad of it. 
 How the mistake has arisen, I know not ; but 
 as you say such is the case^ my comrades may 
 be induced to demand a ransom within 
 reason ; for supposing her to be the Countess's 
 daughter, the sum demanded for her release 
 is enormous, in spite of all my efforts to the 
 contrary. May I enquire, Count, who is the 
 Signora, and how the change took place. 
 Believe me in asking this, my desire is to 
 serve you. I will explain why by and bye.'» 
 " She is the daughter of a Corsican gentle- 
 man," answered the Count, " and was being 
 educated in the same convent as the 
 Countess di Sera's daughters, the youngest 
 of whom was just recovering from a 
 fever, and could not bear the journey, so her 
 elder sister remained with her at the con- 
 vent. The young lady you now detain was 
 placed under the protection of the Countess, 
 and was on her way to join her guardian at
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 147 
 
 Genoa, prior to proceeding to her hoine in 
 Corsica. This is all the information I can 
 give you." 
 
 " You will oblige me/' said the brigand, 
 " by asking the lady the name of her guardian, 
 that we may at once negotiate with him con- 
 cerning her release.'' 
 
 " You seemed to be aware," remarked Otho 
 de Briesbach, " the evening I met you, of the 
 coming of the Countess di Sera. The 
 attack upon her carriage must have been 
 premeditated." 
 
 " You are right, Count, it was. The ad- 
 venture was undertaken chiefly by the captain 
 of a larger force than mine, whose men 
 generally inhabit the mountain passes between 
 Aqui and Alessandria. He was at one time 
 Captain of the entire band, but from some 
 circumstances unnecessary to relate to you, 
 we divided our forces. I remained here, and 
 he went to the mountains of Aqui.'* 
 
 The Captain paused a moment or two, and 
 then said in a very solemn tone — 
 
 H 2
 
 148 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 '' I wish, Count, I had never joined them 
 at all. I don't pretend ever to have lived 
 a strictly virtuous life, and I must confess that 
 when I first united my fate to the brigands, I 
 was not averse to the service, if carried on ac- 
 cording to my system. But I ever had, and still 
 have, an insuperable objection to shedding 
 blood, but unfortunately I cannot always con- 
 trol my men, for there are many very ferocious, 
 and with these I am anything but popular/' 
 
 '^Why not quit them," cried the Count, 
 emphatically ; '' go to some other land — you 
 are young — courageous ; there is always a 
 career open to a bold and willing spirit." 
 
 '' Most gladly would I do so," said the 
 Captain, " but I cannot. I am bound by a 
 most solemn oath, which can only be absolved 
 by the consent or breach of faith of those to 
 whom the oath was given." 
 
 '^ Ought such oaths to be binding ?" ques- 
 tioned Otho. 
 
 '^ All oaths, I think, should be binding," 
 replied the Captain.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 149 
 
 *' Not, I think, if given under compulsion 
 and fear," said the Count. 
 
 " Well, it may be so ; but let me speak to 
 you of events long since past — events that 
 may cause you pain to hear, and, perhaps, in- 
 duce you to look upon me with greater aver- 
 sion and disgust than my present position 
 warrants. Nevertheless, I will speak, for 
 Providence alone has the right Ho visit the 
 sins of the fathers upon the children,' and it is 
 of our fathers I would now speak." 
 
 " Of our fathers !" repeated the Count, with 
 a start, and a somewhat haughty tone; " what 
 do you mean ?'' 
 
 There was an angry flash from the robber's 
 eyes, and a flush upon his cheeks, and his lip 
 trembled, as he replied in a still calm, mild 
 tone, 
 
 " Have you any recollection of your boy- 
 hood ? it was at that period you lost your 
 father. He died from a wound received in a 
 duel. My father perished from the same 
 cause.''
 
 150 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 De Briesbach's astonishment was raised to 
 a pitch almost of excitement ; how his 
 father's fate could have become known to the 
 man before him, he could not conjecture: he, 
 however, made no reply. 
 
 " Your father,'' contmued the Captain, 
 " was killed in a duel with an Italian of the 
 name of Vachero/' 
 
 " So I have been informed," said the Count. 
 " I remember the name well ; but how this 
 intelligence has reached your knowledge, I 
 confess, greatly surprises me.'* 
 
 " Your surprise will cease, Count, when I 
 tell you that the Julio Vachero, who unfortu- 
 nately slew your father, was my own 
 father 1" 
 
 " Your father !" repeated the Count ; '' you 
 astonish me. Did you not say your father 
 was also killed in a duel ?" 
 
 " Yes ; and so he was. The Count de 
 Briesbach was mortally wounded and died 
 in a few days. My father, though severely 
 wounded, was still able to fly — for the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 151 
 
 laws were very strict relative to duelling — 
 and with great difficulty reached Milan, 
 where my mother then resided. His wound 
 rapidly grew worse, and he died in less than 
 a month after his return, bitterly lament- 
 ing having been forced into that unhappy 
 duel, for — " and the brigand spoke slowly 
 and emphatically — "for on his death-bed, 
 with a priest by his side, he declared he had 
 won the gold fairly and honourably from the 
 Count de Briesbach, who in a fit of passion 
 threw the dice in his face, and then struck 
 him, I was a boy, at most fifteen or sixteen 
 years old at the time, but I heard the words, 
 and shall never forget them. My mother is 
 still alive, and will vouch for what I say. 
 When I heard you give your name to the 
 Countess di Sera, the memory of the past, 
 and my father's death-bed, came as vividly 
 before me as if the occurrence bad taken 
 place yesterday." 
 
 Otho de Briesbach heard the brigand to the 
 end without interruption, but with no little
 
 152 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 surprise, and after a moment said thoughtfully^ 
 '* Strange things occur in this world, and at 
 strange times* I could never have anticipated 
 this meeting with the son of Julio Vachero. It 
 was from my uncle, the Baron de Newhofi, I 
 first heard of my father's unfortunate fate. 
 May I ask how it was that your mother and 
 yourself were residing at Milan,and your father 
 in Paris ? My uncle mentioned that your 
 father was an Italian adventurer, but did not 
 name the part of Italy he came from." 
 
 The brigand's cheek flushed, but he replied, 
 calmly, 
 
 " My father was by no means what is usually 
 called an adventurer; he was by birth a 
 native of Lucia, and possessed a good estate 
 in the Ligurian territory. He was detected 
 in a conspiracy to overthrow the detested 
 tyranny of the rulers of Genoa, and his 
 estates being confiscated, he fled with his 
 wife and family. Afterwards, it cannot 
 be denied, he chiefly suported himself by 
 gambling. My mother did all she could to
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 153 
 
 break him of so baneful a passion, which 
 in the end gained complete mastery over him ; 
 but he was neither a sharper nor the associate 
 of swindlers. His good fortune became so 
 notorious that he quitted Milan and rambled 
 through Germany and France, not staying 
 long in any one place. It was during one 
 of those wanderings that he unfortunately met 
 your father in Paris, and both lost their lives 
 in consequence.'' 
 
 A loud, shrill whistle sounded from with- 
 out the cavern at that moment. 
 
 " That is for me,'' said the brigand. '' I 
 must bid you good-night. Count, as our mes- 
 senger is returned from Campomarino. To- 
 morrow I hope to be able to give you some 
 intelligence with respect to our fair prisoner. 
 You may rely upon my using my best en- 
 deavours to gain her release at a reasonable 
 ransom, Marguerita will show you your place 
 of rest, and there you will find your valise^ 
 
 " Well," thought our hero, " this is turning 
 out a most singular adventure ; and I must 
 
 H 5
 
 154 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 confess this bandit chief has some very re- 
 markable traits in his character. Neverthe- 
 less, I wish I could see the Lady Vannina safe 
 out of the clutches of his band of villains." 
 
 Marguerita interrupted him in the midst 
 of his confused and perplexing thoughts by 
 offering to show him his couch, which was 
 within another branch of the caverns, and 
 by no means uncomfortable; its sides were 
 carefully matted, and the floor covered with a 
 kind of odoriferous broom. Of furniture 
 there was certainly a very scanty supply ; 
 a chair, a table, and the couch, was all the 
 chamber contained, and across the entrance 
 was drawn a curtain of platted dried grass. 
 
 On the chair was his valise^ unopened, and 
 as his own person had been free from the 
 hands of his captives, his purse, pistol, and 
 sword were still about him, and he placed 
 them carefully by his bedside, and without 
 undressing threw himself on his coucli ; 
 not that he expected to sleep, for with the 
 image of the beautiful Vannina floating before
 
 BROKEN FETTEES. 155 
 
 his mind's eye, and the strangeness of his 
 situation, he had quite enough to occupy his 
 thoughts during the first night passed in the 
 robber's cave.
 
 156 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE X. 
 
 Otho passed the following day in the caverns 
 chiefly in the society of the fair Vannina 
 and the little girl Jaqueline. They saw no 
 one save Marguerite, who prepared their 
 meals for them. They passed out from the 
 mouth of the cave, and seated on a projection 
 of the rock, gazed down into the wild and ex- 
 traordinary valley beneath. 
 
 " What a splendid, wild scene/' cried Van- 
 nina, " and how impossible for any one to 
 escape from this place without a guide. You 
 see there is no possibility of getting either up 
 or down from this small platform without the 
 rope ladders."
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 157 
 
 " It assuredly is a singular stronghold,'^ 
 said the Count. " You said it reminded you 
 of your native mountains. I know but little 
 of Corsica, excepting its perpetual struggles 
 against the Eepublic of Genoa ; but of the 
 country or its peculiarities I am ignorant . 
 but were I to judge of its natives by the fair 
 example before me, why — " 
 
 " Ah ! Count,'^ interrupted Vannina, with a 
 smile, " you must not use flattery to a wild 
 Corsican maiden, who knows little of the 
 world except by hearsay, my childhood hav- 
 ing been passed amid the wild hills of Nonza, 
 and my girlhood within the gloomy walls of a 
 convent." 
 
 " Your young life has experienced early 
 misfortunes," said the Count, ''though I trust 
 the present trial will be but short. The 
 robber Captain last night requested me to 
 obtain from you the name of your guardian — 
 your father, I presume, is in Corsica.'" 
 
 " Yes," returned Vannina ; " he is in 
 Bastia ; I hear the island is again disturbed.
 
 158 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Alas ! for poor Corsica ! the struggles to shake 
 off a cruel yoke — but I beg pardon ; I am 
 what the good Countess di Sera calls a 
 little rebel at heart, and cordially detest the 
 very name of the Genoese, though my father 
 and all his family connections and numerous 
 vassals side with the Republic against what 
 they call the rebellion of the islanders. I am 
 not answering your question about my 
 guardian. The fact is I have no guardian. 
 My father entrusted me to the protection of 
 a Corsican noble, also a friend to the Ee- 
 public — the Count Domenico Eivalora, a 
 relative of ours. 
 
 " I was to be educated in a convent, and as 
 the Countess di Sera was desirous of placing 
 her two daughters in the convent of St. Ursula, 
 near Turin, the Count de Eivalora thought it 
 advisable to place me under her protection. 
 I soon learned to esteem her, and to love her 
 two charming daughters. I have no doubt 
 that the Count de Eivalora will find the 
 sum these exacting brigands may demand.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 159 
 
 My father is reputed very wealthy, and will 
 not allow his only child to remain long a 
 prisoner, when money only is required to re- 
 lease her/' 
 
 The day wore away with our two young 
 captives in a manner anything but tedious ; in 
 fact the Count never remembered the hours to 
 have passed so rapidly. Love was insidiously 
 marking them out as his captives. There 
 appeared no doubt that the moment their 
 captivity with the brigands should cease, 
 their future lives would be influenced by the 
 events of the last few days. 
 
 Otho de Briesbach was sitting immersed in 
 thought by the fire, after Vannina had retired 
 with little Jacqueline, to whom she had 
 become much attached, for the child was ex- 
 tremely sensible, over serious for her years, and 
 very interesting in her person and manner. 
 
 Marguerite had placed a flask or two of un- 
 exceptional wine before the Count, saying, 
 '' The Captain will be here shortly." And 
 in less than ten minutes he entered the cave.
 
 160 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 '' I fear," said the Captain, saluting the 
 Count, respectfully, " you have found the time 
 tedious, notwithstanding you had the society 
 of the Lady de Matra, I am sorry to say I 
 have no positive intelligence to impart to 
 you.'^ 
 
 The Count looked vexed and uneasy, 
 saying — " What has happened ? Do the 
 lady's friends refuse to pay the ransom de- 
 manded, or are your demands so exorbitant 
 as to require time to consider them ?" 
 
 " I am sorry, Count, you are right in your 
 suppositions. The sum demanded is pre- 
 posterous — ruinous, even supposing the lady's 
 father is as wealthy as he is represented to be. 
 However, nothing certain is known yet ; her 
 friends are aware of the sum required for her 
 release, but till to-morrow we cannot receive 
 an answer. I did all in my power to make 
 my comrades agree to accept easier terms, 
 but my proposals were met with fierce re- 
 proach, and from Marco Eemini and bis gang 
 with scorn and defiance.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 161 
 
 "I will be candid with you, Count, for 
 since I encountered you a singular change 
 has come over me. I am disgusted with this 
 brigand life. I demanded last night my re- 
 lease from my vows, declaring I was ready 
 to take the required oaths, when a member 
 quits the band, not to betray by word or deed 
 our places of retreat, or our system of or- 
 ganisation, or any of the agents of the gang 
 living in cities or towns. They refused to 
 liberate me, and high words were the result, 
 and only that the consequence to you and the 
 lady might be serious, we had come to an 
 open rupture." 
 
 The Count looked concerned at the pros- 
 pect before him. He remained silent, for his 
 thoughts were centered upon the Lady 
 Vannina, for as regarded himself he felt per- 
 fectly indifferent. The captain filled his 
 goblet with wine, and then said, 
 
 " There is no use. Count, in giving way to 
 despondency. Keep up your spirits. I will 
 not desert you or your chsivming protegee^ and
 
 162 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 if to-morrow's answer is not to our mutual 
 satisfaction, I have one way still left. If you 
 are not inclined for sleep, I will give you a 
 rapid outline of my life ; it may beguile you 
 from your sombre thoughts. What say you?" 
 
 " I shall gladly listen to you, for I do not 
 feel the slightest inclination to sleep." 
 
 Helping himself to some wine, he al- 
 lowed the Captain to commence his narra- 
 tive, to which he might listen or not, as he 
 felt inclined. 
 
 " I shall begin after my father's death, for 
 I have nothing to say of myself till that 
 event took place, except that I was a very 
 wild and somewhat ungovernable boy, though 
 devotedly attached to my poor mother, who 
 took my father's death greatly to heart. She 
 at once determined to return to Genoa, where 
 she had several relations, hoping to do some- 
 thing for me through their interest. 
 
 " We reached Genoa without mishap, and 
 as all danger from my father's political 
 opinions and plots was at an end my mother's
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 163 
 
 friends were willing to assist her. At Milan 
 I regularly attended school, and at fourteen 
 was tolerably well grounded in reading, writ- 
 ing, and book keeping, for my mother always 
 hoped to be able to get me into a mercantile 
 establishment. Accordingly, some short time 
 after our arrival, I was placed in the count- 
 ing-house of a very rich merchant, the Signor 
 Matteo Gavotti. 
 
 " For several months I went on very well, 
 but at the end of a year I began to find the 
 confinement irksome. Signor Gavotti was a 
 kind hearted man, and my mother, to who in J 
 complained, spoke with the merchant, who 
 very kindly promised to vary my employ- 
 ment, and I was sent in some of his vessels 
 short voyages, as a clerk to his supercargo. 
 I soon began to delight in this life — it suited 
 me amazingly, and 1 acquitted myself so 
 well, pleasing both the merchant and the 
 supercargo, that the former promised, as soon 
 as I was old enough, to send me out in one of 
 his vessels as supercargo.
 
 164 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " Time rolled on, and though I committed 
 several errors— was wild and heedless at times, 
 — I still contrived to keep in the merchant's 
 good graces. I was just twenty when he finished 
 and launched a beautiful brig intended for 
 the Odessa trade, which was then carried on 
 with vigour by the Genoese merchants. 
 
 '' The Signor Gavottes family at this period 
 consisted of three daughters and one son. 
 The second daughter, Laurina, was a remark- 
 ably pretty girl, but became rather delicate as 
 she advanced in life. She was at this period in 
 her sixteenth year. I knew very little of the 
 merchant's family, residing, as I did, entirely 
 with my mother, and attending to my ofiice 
 business during the day. I met them occasion- 
 ally on fete day, or birthdays ; but sooth to 
 say, I was treated somewhat haughtily by the 
 son, a proud and imperious youth, and with 
 easy politeness by the eldest daughter. Their 
 mother had been dead many years. 
 
 " When the brig was launched, the mer- 
 chant informed me she was to carry out a rich
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 165 
 
 cargo to the Black Sea, and return with corn 
 from Odessa, and that T should go out as her 
 supercargo. He was, he said, looking out for 
 a competent captain. I rejoiced at this, for I 
 enjoyed the sea and I also liked the kind of 
 life I had the power to lead during the periods 
 we remained in harbour. 
 
 " When the vessel was nearly ready for 
 sea Signor Gavotti informed me, in the course 
 of conversation, that his two eldest daughters 
 were going to spend the winter in Naples, 
 and that we were to land them, and the lady 
 to whose care they were to be entrusted, 
 at that city ; and on our return voyage from 
 Odessa we were to touch at that port to 
 bring them home, for we should be detained 
 in the Black Sea four months, and he 
 thought a lengthened residence in Naples 
 would be of great benefit to Laurina. 
 
 '^ In three weeks the brig was laden and 
 ready for sea, but there was a difficulty about 
 the skipper ; just in the nick of time, the 
 Signor Gavotti engaged one [accustomed to
 
 166 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the navigation of the Black Sea. This skipper 
 was a Sicilian, and brought most satisfac- 
 tory letters from a wealthy mercantile house 
 in Palermo. Accordingly Benedetto Lottero, 
 the name of the Sicilian, was engaged. The 
 skipper selected the crew, and all being ready 
 for sailing, the ladies went on board. I was 
 the last to go, for I received the final instruc- 
 tions, letters, papers, &c., for the various 
 ports we were to touch at. Having taken an 
 affectionate leave of my mother, I took a 
 boat at Port del Mare and pulled out to the 
 brig, which was lying at single anchor, her 
 sails set and the men at the capstan, when I 
 arrived alongside. 
 
 "'Who the devil are you? were the first 
 words I heard, as I laid hold of a rope 
 and gained the deck. I turned to the speaker, 
 saying, 
 
 "• * Who do you suppose I am? The super- 
 cargo, of com'se ! ' 
 
 '" Oh !' said the same rough voice. ' Yoq 
 are the supercargo, eh? Heave round, lads^
 
 BPwOKEN FETTERS. 167 
 
 heave round/ and then turning round he sur- 
 veyed me from head to foot as leisurely as if 
 he had been examining the points of a horse. 
 ' You are the supercargo, are you ? and he 
 laughed a coarse laugh, ' Where's your torn 
 cat to lick your chin, eh T 
 
 '"If I had him,' I replied, in my turn 
 taking full measure of the huge bear before 
 me, ' besides licking my beard, he might be 
 useful to comb your whiskers, they look as if 
 they want a cat's claws.' 
 
 '' ' Stand by,' roared the skipper, without 
 heeding my words. 
 
 '' ' Aye ! aye ! sir,' sung out the sailors. 
 
 '' ' Brace round the yards,' and round they 
 went, filling to the fine tramontane that was 
 then blowing out of the harbour. 
 
 '' The brig rapidly gathered way, and 
 gliding between the two gigantic moles, that 
 form the harbour of Genoa, stood away for 
 the open sea. During this operation I was 
 taking a careful survey of the skipper, whose 
 singular reception considerably nettled me.
 
 168 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 In stature he was below tlie middle height, 
 but I never before beheld so vast a breadth of 
 chest and back, supported on limbs that 
 looked like pillars. He appeared about forty- 
 five years of age, with a round bullet head, 
 small but fiery dark eyes, a thick grisly head 
 of hair, and a pair of shaggy whiskers, that 
 appeared to have never come in contact with 
 comb or brush, encircling his throat, and 
 covering the entire sides of his face; alto- 
 gether I never beheld so unpromising a 
 looking skipper. He was the personification 
 of a ferocious buccaneer. He did not come 
 near me again, so I went down below to stow 
 away my papers and to enquire if the ladies — 
 who I found in the handsome cabin, busily 
 arranging their baggage — wanted anything. 
 
 '' ' What a rough creature my father has 
 selected for a captain,' said the eldest of my 
 master's daughters ; ' he appears a perfect sea 
 monster. We heard him address you, when 
 you came on board. Was that the first time 
 you had seen him ?'
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 169 
 
 '' ' The very first time/ I replied, laugHng, 
 * and it would give me no pain if the introduc- 
 tion were never renewed.' 
 
 " ' He quite startled me,' said Laurina^ 
 ' for he stood staring at me with his fiery eyes 
 when we came upon deck, and instead of 
 civilly handing us on board, or showing us the 
 way to the cabin, he muttered " a cursed 
 troublesome lot — put me out of my course- 
 that sickly thing will die if we get rough 
 weather.' " 
 
 " ' Yes, a most uncomplimentary brute,' 
 said the elder sister, laughing heartily, as 
 Laurina mimicked the skipper. ' Thank 
 heaven ! three days with this wind and we 
 shall get rid of this sea savage.' 
 
 " ' But you, Signor Vachero,' put in 
 Laurina, ' will have a horrid time of it with 
 him.' 
 
 '' ' Oh ! 1 don't trouble ray head about his 
 want of civility. Our pursuits will be very 
 different.' 
 
 " Having seen that all the ladies required 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 was at hand, I returned to the small cabin 
 allotted to me, and settled and packed away 
 my letters and papers. After that I returned 
 to the deck to see how things got on there, 
 and to inspect our crew. 
 
 " When I stood upon deck I perceived our 
 Hercules of a skipper standing close by the 
 tiller, with a telescope in his hand, looking 
 towards the shore. To my extreme astonish- 
 ment the sails of the brig were braced sharp 
 up, with the vessel's head right for the bluff 
 headland of Monte Porte Finico. Now as 
 our course for Naples was due south, and the 
 wind was right aft, I thought it a very 
 extraordinary circumstance to see the brig close 
 hauled, standing in for the land. 
 
 "' I considered it my duty to enquire the 
 reason for so strange a proceeding ; and 
 walking up to the skipper, who, stood with 
 his huge limbs widely apart, eying me 
 ferociously, as I approached. 
 
 " ' Beg pardon, skipper,' I said, speaking 
 quite civilly, ' anything wrong, anything for-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 171 
 
 gotten, that we are standing in for the land and 
 losing this fine breeze ? ' 
 
 " ' Who the devil gave you leave to ask 
 questions ?' literally roared the brute. ' Keep 
 a civil tongue in your jaws, youngster, or 
 you'll get the slack of a rope where you'd 
 little like to feel it.' 
 
 '^ Young as I was I never allowed myself 
 to be cowed, or bullied, by any of the cap- 
 tains I sailed with. I was aware that^ in 
 many instances, supercargos were hated by 
 the skippers of merchant vessels, but such a 
 brute as this I had never before encountered, 
 I felt my face turn scarlet at the man's gross 
 language, and replied, 
 
 " ' Do not imagine, man, because you have 
 the body of a bear and the voice of a bull, 
 that I will tolerate your insolence, perfectly 
 uncalled for as it is. I say again, you are 
 not doing that which is right ; you are not 
 pursuing the right course.' 
 
 '' At first I thought he intended knocking 
 
 I 2
 
 172 BKGKEN FETTERS. 
 
 me down with tlie telescope, but all of a 
 sudden he burst into an immoderate fit of 
 laughter ; so violent was it that I almost ap- 
 prehended he would be seized with an apo- 
 plectic fit, and seeing a bucket of water close 
 by my side, I grasped hold of the handle, in- 
 teudiug to give him its contents, but he called 
 out in time. 
 
 ^' ' Avast there ! avast ! stay your hand. 
 Upon my soul you nearly killed me : you so 
 put me in mind of a bantam strutting up to a 
 full grown cock. There, don't colour up in 
 the gills like a cock turkey courting. By the 
 deviFs beard you'll be the death of me !' 
 
 ''I never felt more exasperated in my life; 
 I did not know what to make of the man. As 
 to any personal encounter with him, it was out 
 of the question, and it would only end in his 
 putting me in irons for mutiny. When the 
 skipper had done laughing, he turned coolly 
 to the man at the helm, saying, 
 
 '' ' Keep her away a point or so — that's the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 173 
 
 boat/ and he lifted his telescope to his eye 
 and looked steadily at a dark object appa- 
 rently about a mile ahead. 
 
 " I thought it better to swallow my passion, 
 as it could lead to no ^ood result, and there- 
 fore walked forward to see what kind of men 
 our crew were. Leaning over the weather- 
 bow were four stout, able-bodied seamen ; two 
 others were employed coiling away the cable, 
 and two down below. The men leaning over 
 the bulwarks looked up as I came near them, 
 and certainly, as far as looks went, they were 
 not more engaging than the skipper ; they 
 were all young, hard-featured men, wild and 
 reckless, and looking remarkably bronzed, 
 even for Italians. 
 
 " ' I will try,' I said, mentally, ' if they are 
 more courteous or civil than their skipper.' I 
 addressed them, saying, ' What is that object 
 ahead, my men, that we seem to be steering for?' 
 " ' Why, can't you use your eyes, lad,' said 
 one of the men ; ' they are young enough.'
 
 174 BEOKEN FETTERS. 
 
 <b c 
 
 They want squabbmg out witli a wet 
 mop/ said another, laughing, 'if he can't 
 make out the difference atween a ship's boat 
 and a porpoise/ 
 
 '' ' Then, it's a boat we are steering for,' I 
 quietly observed, looking at the object, which 
 I now clearly saw was a boat full of men. I 
 was startled. What on earth could our 
 captain mean ? There was something very 
 alarming in his manner of proceeding. We 
 rapidly approached the boat, which had a 
 signal hoisted; I could easily see that it con- 
 tained fifteen men. It was a long, narrow 
 craft, very like those used in whale fishing. 
 
 "While I stood anxiously watching, the 
 voice of the skipper was again heard shout- 
 ing out, ' Fore-topsail there !' The helm was 
 instantly put down, and the brig shot up in 
 the wind ; her topsails were hauled to wind- 
 ward, and the brig became stationary. The 
 next instant the boat, full of men, was pulled 
 rapidly alongside.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 175 
 
 " I was walking aft, thoroughly astonished, 
 when I encountered the skipper coming to- 
 wards me. He looked me full in the face for 
 a moment or two, and then, taking hold of 
 one of my arms, said, in a low, distinct 
 tone, 
 
 " ' Young man, listen to me : I don't wish 
 to hurt you, for T think you will turn out use- 
 ful to me. Go down below, and shut your 
 eyes on what is going on. This brig is now 
 mine' (I felt his hand grasp me like a vice) ; 
 ' let you be ever so true to your master, you 
 can do nothing. Go down quietly, and assure 
 the women they shall come to no hurt, for T 
 will land them and their baggage somewhere 
 on the coast of Corsica.' 
 
 " Without another word, he almost forced 
 me down the cabin stairs, closed the hatch 
 and bolted it. I was then only a slight 
 youth of twenty, with some promise of the 
 strength I afterwards acquired, and which you 
 see I now possess. I had spirit enough, but
 
 176 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 you will admit I was unable to do anything 
 in such an extraordinary case of downright 
 piracy, within fifteen miles of the port of 
 Genoa. I stood for several minutes, con^ 
 founded, on the stairs, scarcely knowing 
 whether I was awake or in a dream.
 
 BROKEN FETTEHS. 177 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 "T WAS powerless to defeat this man's pirati- 
 cal intentions. The whole affair, must 
 have been systematically planned long 
 before his presenting himself to the Signor 
 Gavotti as a skipper to the brig. Most likely 
 the letters of recommendation from the mer- 
 cantile house at Palermo were all forgeries. 
 
 " I heard, as I stood deliberating how I 
 should break the intelligence to the merchant's 
 daughters, the tramp of many feet upon the 
 deck, and the loud and never-to-be-forgotten 
 laugh of the skipper. I knew now there was 
 
 1 5
 
 178 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 no use in hesitating, therefore instantly 
 entered the cabin, where the ladies were still 
 occupied in arranging their attire, quite un- 
 conscious of the event that would certainly 
 change their destination, if nothing worse 
 should occur. 
 
 " ' Well, signor Vachero,' said Laurina, 
 looking up as I entered, she was employed 
 emptying a trunk, ' is there anything wrong 
 upon deck, for we heard a great noise over- 
 head? I suppose nothing unusual, for the 
 vessel is so steady that I can scarcely fancy 
 we are out at sea.' 
 
 " ' I fear — I fear — I shall greatly disturb 
 your minds, though I trust — I feel almost 
 satisfied the brute will keep his word,' 
 
 " The ladies stared at me, with evident as- 
 tonishment, as I began this confused kind of 
 speech. 
 
 " ' What is it that disturbs you, signor 
 Vachero ?' asked the elder of the two sisters, 
 ' You appear agitated. Has this rough
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 179 
 
 captain again been behaving rudely to 
 you?' 
 
 " * Your father has been deceived, signora. 
 The skipper is neither more nor less than 
 a buccaneer. He has taken on board 
 fifteen or sixteen rough looking men off Porte 
 Fino; and not five minutes since, he told 
 me very coolly that the brig was his ; at the 
 same time telling me to let you know that he 
 intended you no harm, and would land you 
 on the coast of Corsica/ 
 
 " I need scarcely say that I did not get 
 through this recital without sundry ejacula- 
 tions and emotions of terror from the ladies. 
 
 "'What is to be done?' cried the elder 
 daughter. ' The Saints preserve us ! should 
 this pirate forfeit his word, what will become 
 of us ? What is he going to do with thevessel ?' 
 
 " ' Holy Virgin !" exclaimed the lady who 
 had charge of the young girls, and who cer- 
 tainly was very much the wrong side of forty. 
 ' Holy Virgin ! perhaps he intends selling us 
 as concubines to the Grand Turk.'
 
 180 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " Laurina, however, was the least agitated 
 of the three. She looked paler than usual, but 
 not much frightened. My eyes rested on 
 hers, and then, for the first time, I felt that she 
 was dearer to me than I had imagined. After 
 a time I succeeded in somewhat calming the 
 worst of their fears ; and in my endeavour 
 Laurina aided me, and showed more firmness 
 and good sense under misfortune than either 
 her sister or the signora. 
 
 " ' If this captain keeps his word,' said 
 Laurina, ' and from what you say, I really 
 think he will, and lands us anywhere in 
 Corsica, we shall sufi'er but little incon- 
 venience, as we can easily return thence to 
 Genoa. Did he say you were to land with us, 
 Signor Vachero?' And the girl looked 
 at me, I flattered myself, a little anxiously.* 
 
 " ' Of that, I confess I am doubtful,' I re- 
 plied. 
 
 " ' Good Heaven !* she exclaimed ; ' he 
 surely does not think of forcing you to become 
 a pirate.'
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 181 
 
 " ' If he thinks to do so/ I said, ' he will 
 be mistaken. The brig is again under way, 
 I perceive, by the motion. I will see if the 
 skipper has unfastened the hatch, and whether 
 he intends- to keep us captives.' 
 
 " I left the matron in a most piteous state 
 of alarm, fancying herself already established 
 in the harem of either the Grand Turk or the 
 Dey of Algiers. 
 
 "When I pushed at the hatch over the 
 cabin stairs, it readily fell back, and I as- 
 ascended to the deck. The first person I 
 encountered was the skipper, who was walk- 
 ing up and down, and faced me as I popped 
 my head up. 
 
 " ' Well, my lad, how's the wind with the 
 women ? blows a hurricane, or a gentle sou' 
 wester, eh ?' 
 
 '* I was completely nonplussed by the per- 
 fect coolness of the man. In fact, I scarcely 
 knew how to answer him. 
 
 " ' Why, youngster, you seem struck all of 
 a heap,' he continued. ' You couldn't look
 
 182 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 worse if you were expecting to be run up to 
 the yard arm. Cheer up, my fine fellow; 
 there's a nice life before you. Get the women 
 ashore as soon as possible, for between you 
 and me — ' and he gave me a poke in i}^Q 
 ribs with the end of his telescope, that nearly 
 broke them — 'there's no trusting a ship's 
 company with a couple of handsome girls 
 before their eyes. Besides, I don't — no, curse 
 it, I ain't so bad as that neither — I don't want 
 to rob the old man of his girls as well as his 
 brig.' 
 
 "'Then you really intend putting them 
 ashore?' I anxiously demanded, clutching 
 him by the arm. 
 
 " ' There's my hand to it,' he exclaimed. 
 ' I'm cursed if I don't." 
 
 " I very foolishly trusted my hand to the 
 mercy of his, by way of ratifying the contract, 
 and he pressed my unfortunate fingers so 
 energetically, that I almost roared with the 
 pain. 
 
 "'When?' I asked, as soon as I regained
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 183 
 
 my breath, after his affectionate squeeze. 
 * When do you think you can put us ashore ?' 
 
 " * Us !* cried the skipper, with one of his 
 boisterous laughs ; 'us ! who the devil's us? 
 You don't surely think I am going to part 
 with my supercargo, ha ! ha ! ha !' — and he 
 got red in the face with the hoarse laugh 
 in which he indulged, 'No, no, my lad, 
 I'm getting fond of you. I mean to 
 make a man of you, and teach you to steer, 
 point, and reef. What a jolly life we shall 
 lead. You don't know what's before you. 
 There now, don't open your jaws again till 
 cook has given you something to put in them, 
 so just go forward and order the fellow to get 
 supper or dinner for the women, and beg they 
 will excuse my joining them. Make the most 
 of them, my lad, for by this time to-morrow 
 we shall bid them farewell.' 
 
 "And off he walked, leaving me to my own 
 reflections, and not a little bewildered and 
 very much vexed.
 
 ]84 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " I passed an hour to two witli tlie mer- 
 chant's familj, talking over the strange event 
 that had taken place ; but the wind having 
 freshened, the motion of the vessel as she 
 gained the open sea increased so much as to 
 produce symptoms of sea- sickness, and forced 
 the ladies to retire to their berths, and I went 
 to rest at a late hour. I could not sleep for a 
 long time, but tossed and turned and tor- 
 mented myself with plans and projects im- 
 possible of execution. 
 
 '* Towards morning, however, I fell asleep, 
 worn out with my own thoughts. How long 
 I slept I could not tell, but it was broad day 
 when I awoke, and I could perceive by the 
 motion that the vessel was still under canvass. 
 I jumped hastily up and threw on my coat, 
 the only garment I had taken off, and pro- 
 ceeded to open Jmy door, which, to my con- 
 sternation, I found fastened. The noise I 
 made trying to open it, brought some one, for 
 I heard the bolt drawn back and the door
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 185 
 
 opened, and standing, with a broad grin on 
 his red face, just outside was the skipper.' 
 
 " 'Well, my lad, you have made a fine sleep 
 of it. I landed the women two hours ago, 
 but if you make haste you will catch a glimpse 
 of Cape Corsica.' 
 
 " ' Landed the women !' I exclaimed, 
 confounded, and in fact stupified. 'Why 
 fasten me in — why let me sleep T 
 
 "' Sleep ! there's nothing so refreshing as a 
 sound sleep,' and the skipper laughed; 
 ' you slept like a prince. The women, sweet 
 dears, went away like lambs. The young 
 one cried a bit, and told me to take care of 
 you. I suppose she meant I was to rear you 
 tenderly, and teach you to walk in the right 
 path. She wishes you to sail always 
 over smooth water,' and again he laughed 
 boisterously and ascended on deck, leaving 
 me to follow. 
 
 " Bursting with rage and vexation, I ^ent 
 on deck. I cast my eyes around, and beheld
 
 186 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the bold coast of Corsica astern of us, some 
 six or eight miles. The brig was under every 
 stitch of canvass she could set, with a fine 
 breeze from the north east. Some eight or 
 ten rough-looking sailors were sitting in a 
 group by the foremast, the sun shone bright 
 and glorious, and the water sparkled and 
 rippled and broke into foaming billows under 
 our bows as the brig plunged rapidly through 
 them. All looked bright and cheerful, but 
 my own heart, that in truth felt heavy and 
 oppressed. 
 
 " As I walked to and fro, I determined in 
 my own mind to say no more to our skipper, 
 but let him inform me of his own accord what 
 his plans were with respect to me. I was 
 young — very young. Count de Briesbach, and 
 as I said before, somewhat wild and thought- 
 less, and when in Genoa, kept but indifferent 
 associates. Nevertheless, I had committed no 
 act deserving a worse name than indiscreet.' '* 
 
 " I was naturally of a buoyant spirit — ex-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 187 
 
 tremely fond of the sea — had heard of the 
 exploits of the buccaneers, and I thought ' if 
 this skipper is a buccaneer, and intend 
 taking the brig out into those seas, 1 should 
 have no objection to such a life/ The com- 
 mon pirate or ladri dimare I considered quite 
 a different thing. 
 
 " I was left entirely to myself the whole 
 day. I did not address any of the sailors 
 who went to and fro, and as T passed near 
 the binnacle, I took a look to see what 
 course we were steering. The brig was going 
 away south and by west, which I conjectured 
 would bring us close up with the Barbary 
 coast." 
 
 " ' Does the skipper intend selling the cargo 
 and craft?' was the first question I 
 asked myself. I was saved the trouble of 
 much thinking, for in the midst of my doubt 
 the captain came up to me, saying, and slap- 
 ping me familiarly on the shoulders at the 
 same time —
 
 188 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 "'Come, my lad — come to dinner; fine 
 breeze — she walks, eh ? . A real clipper. I 
 knew she would prove one the moment I set 
 eyes on her. Come, bear a hand ; I want to 
 have some palaver with you.' 
 
 "I sat down to a very good dinner with the 
 skipper and a stout, fine looking man, of 
 about three or four and thirty. There was 
 very little conversation carried on, for the 
 skipper and his lieutenant — for such he called 
 him — seemed to me as if eating for a wager. 
 As soon as the lieutenant had emptied 
 a can of wine, holding about three pints, 
 he walked away, leaving me with the 
 skipper, who kept at his work ten 
 minutes longer, at least, and at length 
 ended by following the example of his lieu- 
 tenant in drinking a share of wine. 
 
 " ' Now, my lad, let us talk a bit. I'm all 
 the better for my dinner — how are you, eh ? 
 Now I daresay,' he continued, without heed- 
 ing whether I replied or not, ' you take me
 
 BKOKEN FETTERS, 189 
 
 for a regular cut-throat, a ferocious, blood- 
 thirsty pirate, eh ? Don't you, my lad ?' 
 
 " ' Well, something very like it,' I replied. 
 
 '•' ' Ha ! good ; so I thought,' he returned, 
 not speaking in the least angrily. ' Yes, I 
 have a ferocious look — it suits my profession. 
 Quite impossible to get on without a down- 
 right bloodthirsty countenance. It serves to 
 keep the crew in order, and it settles small 
 matters without blows. But I tell you what, 
 ni}^ lad, I'm as tender-hearted as a chicken." 
 
 ^' I felt very much inclined to laugh, and 
 the skipper saw it. 
 
 '^ ' I'm curs'd if I ain't,' he repeated ; 
 ^listen now, while I tell you how I came to take 
 this brig. But stop — you take us all for a 
 set of villanous pirates, don't you ?' 
 
 ^' ' Why, what on earth else could I take 
 you for, ?' I replied, quietly, ' after what I 
 have witnessed.' 
 
 '' 'All right and above board, my lad ; but 
 you're wrong in your reckoning. We are
 
 190 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 none of us pirates, nor donH intend being 
 pirates. No, blow me high and dry, if I'm 
 not telling you the truth. Just take a couple 
 of bottles out of that locker you're sitting on ; 
 this talking is such cursed dry work. That's 
 right, lad — now listen. 
 
 '' ' The Signor Matteo Gavotti, the wealthy 
 German merchant, owed the Signor Perugia 
 Malatesta, a merchant of Palermo, the large 
 balance of a long, unsettled account. The 
 Signor Malatesta died, and left his property, 
 settled and unsettled, to his younger brother, 
 the Signor Luigi Malatesta. — Cursed dry 
 work this, my lad ; come, whet your whistle. 
 Well, then, Luigi Malatesta did all he could 
 to get the Genoese merchant to settle his 
 claims. The proper vouchers were wanted, 
 so he refused till they were produced — blow 
 him ! he had them himself.' 
 
 '• I stared at the skipper ; I thought he 
 was either getting drunk or insane. 
 
 " ' Yes, my lad. First — Luigi Malatesta
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 191 
 
 swore he would have the sum or an equivalent* 
 I'm Luigi Malatesta — and curse him ! Tve got 
 the brig and the cargo ; they will nearly 
 balance the debt. Now, my lad, what do 
 you think of all this?' And the skipper 
 looked at me with his fierce dark eyes. 
 
 '' ' Why,' I replied, ' I think it is all very 
 strange. But how did you contrive to de- 
 ceive the Signer Gavotti, so as to induce him 
 to entrust you — a total stranger — with the 
 command of this fine brig and valuable 
 cargo ?' 
 
 '''Well, my lad, that was partly good 
 luck ; you see, when I found the Signer Ga- 
 votti obstinately refusing to settle my claims, 
 I determined to have a trip to Genoa and 
 see what I could do in person. I have passed 
 fifteen years of my life cruising in the Spanish 
 main, along with some of the old buccaneers. 
 I was at Providence when Governor Eodgers 
 arrived there with two men-of-war. We 
 wera employed, you see, fishing up the silver
 
 192 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 from the wrecks of the galleons in the Gulf 
 of Florida. 
 
 '"I was at the time lieutenant to one 
 Captain Vane, a noted buccaneer ; but this 
 Commodore or Governor Eodgers swore we 
 were all a set of cut-throat pirates, and 
 wanted to hang my captain and all his crew. 
 No go that, my lad ; I never admired the 
 hempen cravat, so we slipped our cables, set 
 fire to a prize we had, hoisted our colours, 
 fired at one of the men-of-war, and sailed 
 away from the coast.* 
 
 " ' Why, then. Captain,' T interrupted, while 
 the skipper, who seemed fond of talking of 
 the past, was helping himself to copious 
 draughts of wine, 'you have been a pirate.' 
 
 ' ' He looked rather fierce at first, and I beg an 
 to repent my expression ; but he only laughed 
 rather grimly, saying, with an oath, 
 
 '^'Pirate! who says the cruisers or bucca- 
 neers of the Spanish Main are pirates ? No 
 such thing, my lad. We only cruised against
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 193 
 
 the Spaniards ; however, that's neither here 
 nor there. I sailed with Yane, and was getting- 
 rich, when our crew mutinied, and Captain 
 Vane and myself and four others were put 
 into a small sloop, with a scanty store of 
 provisions and sent adrift ; but would you be- 
 lieve it ? the villains didn't let us have even a 
 can of wine. 
 
 '' ' We met with many adventures and more 
 distress, which made Vane so desperate that 
 he became bloodthirsty and cruel, and we 
 separated. He put me ashore on a small un- 
 inhabited island, near the Bay of Honduras ; 
 and there I lived, in the best way I could, 
 until a ship put in there from Jamaica, com- 
 manded by an old buccaneer, named Holford. 
 I had sailed with him before, and he willingly 
 took me on board. He swore that if he caught 
 Vane, he would hang him, and so he did. 
 
 '"I remained with Holford till he returned 
 with his ship to Jamaica; and then, being 
 tired of the roving life I had led for years, 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 which left me as poor at the end as I was at 
 the beginning, I shipped for Europe. 
 
 " * When I arrived at Palermo, I found my 
 brother — the only one of my family left— 
 had, in the course of years, become a rich 
 merchant. I don't know how it was, whether 
 I brought him ill luck or not, but in five 
 years after my return, he became nearly 
 bankrupt, and died of vexation, leaving me 
 the wreck of his property. So there, my lad, 
 I have spun you a long yarn about myself/ 
 
 '^ ' You have. Captain ; but you began to 
 tell me how you got possession of the brig, and 
 finished by getting to Providence, Honduras, 
 and Heaven knows where besides.' 
 
 '• ' Ha ! so I did, my lad ; but you see I 
 wanted to give you an idea of how I passed 
 my youth. Not very profitably you see, as 
 far as getting rich; but never mind, we'll 
 make it up now. We'll cruise in the Spanish 
 Main with a craft of our own.' 
 
 '' ' And get suspended from the yard-arm of
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 195 
 
 some Government cruiser, eh, Captain ? like 
 your worthy commander Vane,' I replied. 
 
 " ^ No such thing, my lad. Vane became a 
 blood-thirsty pirate, and stuck at nothing. 
 We will cruise under a fair letter of marque 
 from the Government. But come, heave a 
 hand. I am as dry as a red herring with 
 talking; can't spin any more yarns now. 
 Take a turn on deck, and after supper I'll 
 tell you how I got the brig.' 
 
 K 2
 
 196 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " I HAD a long conversatioD with our skipper 
 after supper, and in his rambling style I 
 became acquainted with the manner in which 
 he contrived to deceive the Signor Gavotti, 
 and also with his plans for the future. He had 
 sailed from Palermo with an old pilot captain 
 well acquainted with the navigation of the 
 Black Sea. This captain was on his voyage 
 to f'pply for the command of the brig, and 
 caii'ied letters of recommendation from several 
 shi[) owners. During the cruise the two 
 skippers became very intimate. In a heavy
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 197 
 
 gale, the foreyard snapped across, and unfor- 
 tunately struck Captain Lotero on the head 
 and fractured his skull ; he died three days 
 after, leaving his papers and few effects in the 
 care of Luigi Malatesta. The vessel was 
 bound for Leghorn, and there the unfortunate 
 skipper was buried, under the direction of 
 Malatesta, who immediately after proceeded 
 to Genoa. 
 
 *' During this short voyage he planned his 
 scheme of passing himself off as the Captain 
 Lotero, whose papers he possessed, and 
 being a stranger to every one in Genoa, he 
 easily succeeded in obtaining the command 
 of the brig. Having accomplished thus 
 much, his next step was to engage a crew. 
 For this purpose he went to Porto Fino, a 
 place notorious for its nest of smugglers and a 
 bold race of seamen. After a good deal of 
 manoeuvring, he engaged fifteen able-bodied 
 men to join him. His intention was, in the 
 first place, to run the brig to Tangiers, dis-
 
 198 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 pose of her cargo, purchase arms and ammuni- 
 tion, and then shape his course for Providence, 
 "where he could arm his vessel and increase 
 his crew. 
 
 " The first use he intended making of me, 
 was to compel me to forge papers, proving 
 his right and title to the brig, and all she 
 contained, and after having accomplished 
 this, I was to become his second lieutenant — 
 his first having been already provided. I 
 heard all his plans without uttering a single 
 word, and he made no remark on my silence. 
 Within the space of twenty-four hours all his 
 intentions and our destinies were changed.. 
 
 " The following day we were bowling 
 along under a press of sail, fine breeze, and 
 fair weather, when the man aloft sung out 
 that there was a large lateen- rigged craft, 
 close-hauled, standing across our course. We 
 could see there was a vessel ahead, but her 
 rig was not distinguishable. We were going 
 nine knots through the water, and in little
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 199 
 
 more than half-an-hour we could make her 
 out distinctly. She was a long, low craft — 
 much longer than the brig, under three im- 
 mense lateen sails. 
 
 " ' Take in studden sail,' said the skipper, 
 who was attentively examining the stranger 
 through his glass. ' That fellow is either a 
 Spanish guarda costa or a Salee pirate. He 
 has just tacked. Keep her away a couple 
 of points more westerly. She evidently in- 
 tends speaking us. What arms have we got 
 below?' demanded the skipper of his lieu- 
 tenant. 
 
 " Our men were all on deck ; we numbered 
 eight- and-twenty . 
 
 " ' Only a dozen muskets and a lot of board- 
 ing pikes,' answered the lieutenant. 
 
 " * If we can't beat her in sailing,' mut- 
 tered the skipper, with an oath, ' for curse 
 her ! she*s a pirate — her decks are crowded 
 with men — and by heaven ! she's tacked. 
 Keep her two points more to the westward,
 
 200 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 and take a haul at the braces. It's no use 
 fighting; but by all that's blue, well do 
 something. Heave everything in the shape 
 of iron and lead you can lay hold of into 
 those two miserable -looking ten-pounders — 
 curse 'em ! I'll try and send some of those 
 yellow devils to the infernal regions before I 
 part with the brig.' 
 
 '' I began to look around me with great 
 anxiety, for at my age the prospect of a life 
 of slavery in the foreground was anything 
 but pleasant. I much preferred the chance 
 of being knocked on the head, so I ran down 
 below and armed myself with a brace of 
 pistols of my own, and an old cutlass. 
 
 " ' When I again went on deck it was very 
 evident that we were pursued by a pirate, for 
 just as I turned to look how we stood, a 
 wreath of smoke curled from the deck of the 
 stranger, and the report of a large cannon 
 boomed over the water." 
 
 " ' Curse him I' growled our skipper ;
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 201 
 
 * that's out of an infernal swivel gun, and by 
 my soul, a big one too, for the ball was 
 scarcely fifty yards from us.' 
 
 " We were gradually getting close hauled, 
 hoping, after a time, to be so situated as to 
 get before the wind — the brig's best point of 
 sailing. We could not do so, until we 
 brought our enemy in the same position as 
 ourselves. We were all anxiously watching 
 the rover. We caught a glimpse of her flag ; 
 it was the pirate flag with a vengeance — a 
 black one, with the skull and cross bones. 
 The skipper made this out easy enough with 
 his glass, and showered a profusion of oaths 
 upon the pirates and their fathers for six 
 generations back. 
 
 ''The vessel gained on us rapidly; we 
 could see that plainly enough, and every 
 instant we expected another shot from her im- 
 mense swivel gun, which we could now make 
 out worked upon a circle between her fore and 
 main masts. A wreath of snow-white vapour 
 
 K 5
 
 202 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 warned us to look out, and the next instant was 
 heard the rush of the ball as it passed between 
 our masts, cutting away our weather braces 
 and knocking our booms to splinters. We 
 left them out to be ready. 
 
 " ^ Square away, my lads,' roared the skip- 
 per ; ' now's our time — run up everything — 
 confound her, she's got the legs of us on a 
 wind, anyhow.' 
 
 ^* In a few minutes we were dead before 
 the wind, and covered with a cloud of canvas. 
 Up went the helm of the pirate, and throwing 
 her enormous lateen sails (what sailors term 
 wing on wang), she looked like some flying 
 monster of the deep pursuing its prey. We 
 watched our pursuer with the greatest possible 
 anxiety ; half-an-hour passed, and the skip- 
 per swore she didn't gain an inch. Another 
 half-hour passed anxiously, and the wind 
 began to fall. Suddenly the lower part of the 
 foresail of the pirate was brailed, and agean 
 the swivel sent forth its deadly contents. The
 
 ' BROKEN FETTERS. 203 
 
 sea being remarkably smooth, the aim of the 
 pirates was uncommonly accurate. This time 
 the shot struck the brig right in the stern, 
 smashing the window frames, knocking our 
 cabin bulk-head to atoms, and completely 
 lodging itself in the cargo. 
 
 " Ten minutes after, a more destructive 
 shot struck our main gaff, carried away 
 part of our cross-trees and badly splintered 
 the main yard. Down came our main-sail, 
 and away flew our main-top-sail, while the 
 studden sails fluttered about in ribbons. Our 
 skipper remained perfectly cool, though he 
 muttered and swore fearfully. Considering 
 the number of our hands, we repaired these 
 disasters tolerably quickly; but the pirate 
 evidently gained upon us, and another shot 
 bringing down our main top-mast, with all its 
 load of canvas, laid us completely at the 
 mercy of our pursuers. 
 
 '' ' I tell you what, lads,' said our skipper, 
 tossing off a can of brandy, and handing
 
 204 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 round a jar of the same spirit, ' let us 'die 
 game! Haul those guns the same side — 
 heave to, and when the bloody pirates come 
 alongside to board us, slap their whole con- 
 tents into their cursed carcasses/ 
 
 " These orders were obeyed ; the men 
 seemed to be imbued with the same spirit of 
 vengeance and rage as the skipper. As to 
 myself, I felt singularly uncomfortable, for 
 certainly after getting the dose from our two 
 guns, it was no great stretch of imagination 
 to suppose the pirates would massacre us 
 without mercy. Our men had first of all 
 hoisted out the long boat and thrown into it 
 oars and sundry articles, thinking to make 
 use of it and desert the brig, but before doing 
 so, they resolved to have another slap at the 
 pirates, as our skipper expressed it. 
 
 " The brig was almost motionless on the 
 water, the sun was nearly down, and the wind 
 rapidly dying away. The pirate was within 
 pistol shot, and we could see that they
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 205 
 
 numbered nearly eighty or a hundred turbaned 
 followers of Mahomet. She was a Salee 
 rover; brailing her huge main-sail, she v hot 
 up right alongside — her deck one mass of 
 swarthy pirates, eagerly thirsting to mount 
 our side. At that moment the two guns were 
 brought to bear upon the crowd, the skipper 
 himself, with a savage curse, applying the 
 match, and instantaneously they poured their 
 deadly contents into the thickly-wedged mass 
 of pirates preparing to board. 
 
 '' The effect was terrible ; one gun burst, 
 so rammed had it been with implements of 
 destruction. A hideous yell followed the dis- 
 charge, and the deck of the pirate was covered 
 with the dead and dying — a great many being 
 most horribly mutilated. 
 
 " Had our brig been in a condition to carry 
 sail, we might probably have got away, but we 
 were too disabled and the wind too light. 
 The next minute we were boarded with fear- 
 ful yells and hideous imprecations. I, how^
 
 206 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ever, slipt over the side and swam to tlie long 
 boat which was adrift, some twenty yards 
 astern. I got safely in, and flung myself flat 
 along the bottom. I had scarcely done so, 
 when a report, which caused even the boat I 
 was in to heave and rock as if tossed by a 
 storm, induced me to jump up. What was 
 my astonishment and horror when I perceived 
 a vast volume of smoke and flame surround- 
 ing the spot where the pirate a nd brig were, 
 and hurled through the air I beheld blackened 
 timbers and scattered limbs of human beings 
 whirling and turning with great rapidity. I 
 gazed upon the scene like one bewildered. 
 My hair seemed to stand on end, with horror, 
 as dismembered bodies fell with a splash into 
 the sea around me. 
 
 " As the vast volume of smoke cleared 
 away, I beheld the brig still floating, her 
 foremast and yards standing, but the main- 
 mast and its gear were hanging over the side, 
 and one side her bulwarks were torn from
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 207 
 
 their stanchions ; but of the pirate xebecque, 
 not a vestige was to be seen, except broken 
 spars and rent timbers. 
 
 " I could perceive several figures climbing 
 the side of the brig, some swimming towards 
 her, and a few coming down the rigging of 
 the foremast. 
 
 " ' Thus,' thought I, ' have perished the 
 plans and projects of Luigi Malatesta ; a 
 short hour ago, master of a fine brig and rich 
 cargo; and now, perhaps, a mutilated 
 corpse.' 
 
 "The shades of night were fast creeping 
 over the ocean — not a breath of wind dis- 
 turbed its gently heaving bosom ; but it 
 appeared to me, to judge by the thick gloom 
 that was spreading over the sky, that before 
 morning there would be plenty of wind, I 
 was alone, the shadow of night enshrouded 
 the brig from my sight, and I felt an over- 
 powering melancholy, from which I strove to 
 rouse myself.
 
 208 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 " I overliauled the articles in the boat ; they 
 consisted of masts, sails, and oars, and that 
 was all. She was a large fine boat, with the 
 owner^s name and the name of the brig 
 painted in large letters in the inside of her 
 stern. I was wet and cold, though the season 
 of the year was spring. I doubted being able 
 to step the mast, which was a heavy one, 
 the oars were only to be worked singly, and 
 I had but a very faint idea which way to 
 steer to reach the nearest coast. The Spanish 
 coast, I judged, lay away to the westward 
 about a hundred and fifty miles ; but my chief 
 hope lay in being picked up by some passing 
 craft. 
 
 " I placed one of the oars out over the side, 
 shipped the rudder, and holding by the 
 tiller with one hand, propelled the boat 
 easily through the water, for exercise 
 and to warm my limbs. It was an exceed- 
 ingly dark night, neither moon nor star- 
 light to enable me to judge which way I wa&
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 209 
 
 steering. However, the exertion warmed 
 me, and I continued for nearly an hour, when 
 suddenly a huge black object rose before me. 
 I was on the point of calling out. when I at 
 once, by its solitary foremast, recognised the 
 brig. I quietly put by my oar and listened. 
 Not a sound reached my ear, save the creak- 
 ing of the unbraced yards and the flap of 
 the heavy canvas, as it struck against the 
 masts, with the gentle motion of the vessel, 
 but not a sound of the human voice could be 
 heard. 
 
 '' A strange desire to board the brig came 
 over me, notwithstanding the risk I ran, 
 should any of the pirates be upon deck. 
 I judged, however, they would be below, 
 most probably drunk, although they were 
 followers of the false prophet, for I knew 
 there was a large quantity of brandy ;ind 
 Hollands in the brig. 
 
 " I listened for some minutes; not a souiiil 
 could be heard. I fastened the boat to the
 
 210 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ropes of the mainmast, that hung with the 
 rigging over the side, and without any 
 difficulty gained the deck. I paused, rather 
 startled, for a faint light came up the com- 
 panion stairs ; part of the cabin skylight was 
 broken and a light shone up through the 
 glass, whilst a murmur of voices reached 
 my ears from below, 
 
 '' My first thought was to slide down the 
 side again, but intense curiosity caused me to 
 creep on my knees and hands to the hole ia 
 the sky-light, whence cautiously I looked down 
 through the glass. There were the pirates 
 sure enough. I could count seventeen of 
 them ; and there were others wounded and 
 bruised, I imagined, stowed away in the 
 berths. A more horrid set of wretches I 
 never beheld. The large table of the cabin 
 was covered with jars of spirits and all kinds 
 of eatables, taken from the broken lockers. 
 Some of the men had their faces grimed with 
 powder, and blood smeared all over. Others
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 211 
 
 had their heads bound up — three or four 
 were drinking and smoking-"' one or two 
 stretched on the floor — and five or six earn- 
 estly conversing. 
 
 " They were all Moors. I turned away 
 from the horrible sight and got down the 
 side into the boat and pushed it round to the 
 bows. I again fastened her and climbed up 
 on the brig^s fore deck, hoping to get down 
 into the sailors' cabin and obtain some bis- 
 cuits and water. As I stole quietly across 
 the deck, I frequently paused to listen, think- 
 ing every sound I heard was that of a pirate 
 ascending the companion stairs.
 
 212 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 " In my progress from the bows of the brig 
 towards the fore cabin, I put my foot upon 
 sundry articles strewn over the deck ; a large 
 pea-coat I most joyfully appropriated to my- 
 self. Just as I reached the entrance to the 
 cabin, I heard a deep groan and a smothered 
 exclamation as of agony and rage. 
 
 " I paused ; it was intensely dark. I listened ; 
 I was not mistaken. I heard the groan re- 
 peated, quite close to me. In my pas- 
 sage along the deck I nearly fell over 
 two dead bodies. I shuddered and pur-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 213 
 
 sued my way. A little further on I per- 
 ceived, through the uncertain light, a most 
 appalling sight; from the fore yard, which 
 was braced sharp round, seven bodies were 
 suspended by the legs. They all nearly 
 touched the deck ; but another body, also 
 hanging in the same manner, either 
 through its fierce struggles or the rope slip- 
 ping, lay with its head and shoulders resting 
 upon the deck. From this body came the 
 groans 5 the rest had evidently been long 
 dead. I stooped, and with a start, recognised 
 Luigi Malatesta, the unfortunate skipper. 
 He was alive perfectly sensible, and recog- 
 nised me at once as I bent over him. Con- 
 scious of our critical situation, he said in a 
 low voice, 
 
 '' • Ha ! lad, this is a nice fix, isn't it ? Cut 
 away— cut away, my lad ; [curse the villains ! 
 their rope has cut to the bone.' 
 
 "Fortunately I had my knife, and instantly- 
 cut the cord that bound his hands, and then,
 
 214 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 though not without difficulty, those that held 
 him by the legs, letting him down as softly 
 as possible. All this time I trembled, lest 
 some of the pirates should come upon deck ; 
 but fortunately all remained quiet. 
 
 " It was some minutes ere the skipper could 
 stand. His immense strength, great persever- 
 ance, and fearful struggles had saved his life. 
 He had worked with such vigour that he had 
 hauled the rope over the yard sufficiently to 
 rest his shoulders on the deck. Nevertheless, 
 had I not visited the brig, he would only have 
 increased his torments. 
 
 " While he was gaining strength to stand I 
 explained to him how I came there. He 
 rubbed his hands violently, as he swore 
 deadly oaths he would have a desperate 
 revenge. He very soon gained the use of his 
 legs, saying to me — 
 
 '" ' Go down, lad, into the boat and 
 stand by ; I will descend to the fore 
 cabin for a bag of biscuit and a flask of
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 215 
 
 wine. There is a small keg of water close to 
 the hatch ; I saw the reptiles drinking from 
 it ; take it into the boat with you.' 
 
 " I told him I thought he had better go down 
 into the boat and let me go into the fore 
 cabin. 
 
 " 'No, no, my lad,leave thattome; Iknow 
 exactly where the things are stowed. Come, 
 bear a hand with the water.' I found the keg, 
 which contained six gallons ; I lowered it 
 with a rope, and then followed and stowed it 
 away. It was some time before Luigi made 
 his appearance, so long, indeed, that I was on 
 the point of again going on deck to ascertain 
 the cause of his long delay, when he hailed 
 me ill a low voice, and handed down a bag of 
 biscuit and a jar of spirits ; but he had not 
 been able to find any wine. He then slung 
 himself down the side, and in an excited tone 
 told me to push off as quickly as possible, as 
 he was done up, and must lie down, but 
 would hold the tiller while I pulled an oar.
 
 216 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " He swore all the blood in his body had got 
 into his head, and made him top-heavy. I 
 certainly thought the position in which I found 
 him was quite enough to do that. I pulled away 
 with one oar for about ten minutes, when I 
 was startled by seeing a bright light suddenly 
 illumining the darkness that surrounded us. 
 
 " ' There it is — there it is,' roared my com- 
 panion, in a voice that startled me. ' All 
 right, my lad, curse the swarthy reptiles ; I 
 have done more for them than they did for 
 me. They have the choice of fire or 
 water ; ha ! ha ! ha ! curse them !' 
 
 '' I gazed in astonishment ; the flame grew 
 brighter and brighter ; the entire bow of the 
 brig was now a sheet of fire, which was 
 eagerly and rapidly rushing up the rigging of 
 the foremast. We could see the dark figures 
 of the pirates as they rushed up on the deck. 
 
 '' ' Good heavens ! you have set the brig on 
 fire,' I exclaimed. 
 
 '^ 'Aye, lad; and a fire the swarthy devils will
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 217 
 
 •never quench ; curse them. I struck a light in 
 the fore-cabin. I knew where to find the 
 tinder-box. Ha! ha! ha! You are too 
 tender-hearted, my lad; so 1 didn't tell you 
 what I intended doing. I broke open a locker 
 full of jars of oil, and poured out their contents 
 in every direction. The bulkhead was full of 
 log-wood shavings. I saturated them with 
 oil just before leaving the vessel. I ignited 
 the log-wood, and the swarthy brutes are now 
 enjoying the prize, I h^pe. Ha ! ha ! ha !' 
 
 " There can be no doubt the skipper must 
 have endured much agony from the treatment 
 he had received, and been anxious to retaliate 
 upon the pirates ; consequently I felt little 
 surprise at the savage joy he manifested on 
 beholding the raging flames that were fast en- 
 veloping the brig in its fury. 
 
 '^ We could distinctly see the pirates 
 making useless efforts to extinguish the 
 flames, for so dazzling was the blaze 
 from the combustible nature of the cargo, 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 that the sea for a quarter of a mile around was 
 like a sheet of crimson. 
 
 '' ' They will get it presently, lad,' shouted 
 the skipper in his excitement ; ' there 
 is a ton of powder in kegs in the 
 hold : they will have a second edition 
 of the evening's amusement/ 
 
 '' He had scarcely uttered the words be- 
 fore the brig was lifted, as it were, out 
 of the water, and rent asunder, and 
 driven in fraofments hio^li into the air. 
 For a moment it appeared like the crater of 
 a volcano — a wide blaze of bright light, mil- 
 lions of fiery atoms, driven in every direction, 
 and in a few more seconds we were wrapped 
 in the gloom of an intensely dark night; 
 another minute and all was as still and quiet 
 as if the peaceful ocean had never been witness 
 to such a scene of desolation and death. 
 
 ''' There,my lad, t lie play is over; the reptiles 
 have had their quietus. We may lie down till 
 morning, for there will be no wind for the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 219 
 
 present, and I feel as if my feet didn't belong 
 to my legs. I have half-a-dozen cutlass 
 gashes in my body, and one of the swarthy 
 villains made a cushion of my thighs to stick 
 his knife in, because I kicked him while he was 
 tying me. Carse them! I have had my revenge.' 
 
 " The skipper took a pull at the spirit 
 jar, and after satisfying his thirst, hand- 
 ed it to me. I took a little, but drank copi- 
 ously of the water. We wrapped ourselves in 
 the large sail of the boat, and in spite of the 
 skipper's wounds and my confusion of thoughts, 
 we slept soundly and long. 
 
 '' In the morning I was roused by the cap- 
 tain, who was so stiff with his v/ounds and 
 lacerated ankles that he was almost unable to 
 move. 
 
 '^ ' We must step the mast, my lad,' he said* 
 ' before the breeze rises, for I can scarcely put 
 my feet to the task of bearing my unlucky 
 carcase ; we can do it best while it is 
 calm.' 
 
 L 2
 
 -20 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 '' With some difficulty we stepped the mast, 
 and prepared the yard and sail for hoisting. 
 The boat was nearly five-and-thirty feet in 
 length and very broad, having been built for 
 the purpose of landing a cargo, where no boats 
 or conveniences could be procured, on the coast 
 of the Black Sea. 
 
 '' Immediately after sun-rise a stiff breeze 
 from the eastward arose, and we hoisted our 
 canvas; the skipper told me to steer dead 
 before the wind, as the coast of Spain was 
 ahead, and that before night we should see it^ 
 as it could not be more than a hundred miles 
 from us. 
 
 '' The captain evidently suffered severely, 
 but having washed his wounds with the spirits, 
 which I thought would inflame them, but 
 which he swore would cure them, he lay down 
 along the stern sheets and relieved me at times 
 steering. We saw several vessels during the 
 day, but very distant from us. The boat sailed 
 remarkably well, and before the sun went
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 221 
 
 clown, the coast of Spain was distinctly 
 visible. 
 
 " The skipper said he should make the 
 coast somewhere between Malaga and Cape 
 de Galle. Towards sun-down we observed a 
 craft standing out from the land, close hauled, 
 which my companion said would no doubt 
 turn out to be one of the Spanish guarda 
 castas^ and in another hour we distinctly 
 made her out. She was a large vessel, and 
 appeared to go very rapidly through the 
 water. 
 
 " ' That fellow will overhaul us/ said the 
 captain ; ' it is a very unusual thing at this hour 
 to see a boat like ours standing in for the 
 land, unless it is a contrabandist's, and from 
 the open sea.' 
 
 " He was right ; in less than half-an-hour 
 the Spaniard was close to us, and after firing 
 a musket, hove to. The skipper took the 
 tiller and ran our boat alongside the Spanish 
 guard-boat.
 
 222 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 '* There was a numerous crew aboard, and 
 they looked over the side at us with consider- 
 able surprise. Their chief officer came to 
 examine us, and listened to the skipper's 
 account of our mishap with astonishment and 
 considerable exultation. He spoke in lingua 
 franca^ which I understood well, and I heard 
 him say to the skipper, 'you have rid the 
 coast of one of the most desperate of the Salee 
 rovers, commanded by one of the most feroci- 
 ous cut-throats that ever infested those seas.' 
 He insisted upon the skipper going aboard his 
 craft, and when told I was the supercargo, 
 very politely invited me also. He was bound 
 for Carthagena. We were eastward of the 
 Cape de Galle, and it would, therefore, be all 
 the same to us to be landed at Carthagena or 
 Malaga. We accordingly went on board ; our 
 boat was taken in tow, and we descended to 
 the cabin. 
 
 '' It was decidedly a change for the better. 
 There was not the slightest chance of the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 223 
 
 skipper's story being contradicted, of course 
 he gave himself out as the captain of the brig; 
 the owner's name was plainly to be seen on 
 the stern. The only difference he made was, 
 that the brig was bound for Gibraltar instead 
 of the Black Sea. 
 
 '^ We were hospitably treated by the worthy 
 
 captain of the guarda cosfa^ and the wind 
 
 shifting two points more to the southward, we 
 
 ran into the fine harbour of Carthagena the 
 
 following evening. 
 
 " The captain landed us, leaving us our 
 boat, which the skipper said he intended sel- 
 ling to pay our expenses back to Genoa, and 
 sailed the following day for Barcelona with 
 stores. 
 
 '' We took up our abode at a first-rate 
 locanda ; our story ran like wildfire through 
 the city, and everybody, high and low, crowded 
 the inn to see the two Italians who had 
 destroyed the xebecque of the notorious 
 Mustafa Ee.
 
 224 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " The landlord made his profit of us, and 
 we lived like princes without a stiver in our 
 pockets. The skipper sent for a surgeon, for 
 his legs were awfully inflamed, and while he 
 was getting well, I amused myself in walking 
 about the town, accepted numerous invitations, 
 and enjoyed myself, till an opportunity should 
 occur of getting to Genoa, and the skipper to 
 Palermo. He said he had no fear of being 
 found out, for he intended, the moment he 
 could collect what little property he had in 
 Palermo, to sail to the West Indies, and 
 pressed me to accompany him; but I felt no 
 inclination to follow his desperate fortunes any 
 longer than necessity compelled. 
 
 " Our boat was sold for a good sum, and 
 we were congratulating ourselves on our 
 good fortune, one morning at breakfast, when 
 four of&cers of justice entered the room, and 
 politely bowing and producing a paper, 
 after looking at it for a moment, one of the 
 officers said, speaking to the skipper :
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 225 
 
 " ' Your name, captain, '^is, I believe, 
 Benedetto Lotero ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes, said the skipper, ' so T call myself. 
 Curse 'em, what's in the wind now,' he 
 added, looking at me, and speaking in Italian. 
 
 " ' And yours,' said the officer, turning to 
 me, ' Julio Vachero ? ' 
 
 " ' That's the name I was always known by' 
 I replied. 
 
 " ' Very good,' said the Spaniard, 
 looking again at the paper in his hand. 
 ' You were captain of the brig " Ida," owner, 
 the Signor Matteo Gavotti ? ' addressing 
 Malatesta. 
 
 " ' Curse it, man,' interrupted the worthy 
 Luigi, ' what the devil are you driving at ? 
 Can't you work your course dead on end, 
 and not be tacking and staying like a lubberly 
 Dutch dogger? What are you up to? ' 
 
 " ' Why only this, captain ; that the vessel 
 was not bound for Gibraltar, but for the 
 Black Sea; and both of you are accused of 
 
 L 5
 
 226 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 running away with the brig, after having 
 murdered the owner's daughters on the coast 
 of Corsica. The short and long of the 
 matter is, you are both accused of piracy on 
 the high seas/ 
 
 "'Very good/ replied Luigi Malatesta, 
 quite coolly, and drinking off his hot cup of 
 coffee, ' and pray officer, what is the name 
 of our accuser ? ' 
 
 " ' One Captain Barracco, commanding the 
 bark " Doria/' He came into port last night 
 from Genoa/ 
 
 " All this conversation I heard without 
 feeling in the slightest degree alarmed. I 
 felt sorry for the skipper, in spite of his 
 rough manner,s his piratical seizure of 
 the brig, and his making me his companion 
 in spite of myself. I knew I could easily 
 clear myself from the charge against me; 
 indeed I was surprised at being included in 
 the impeachment, as I was well known to 
 Captain Barracco, whose name I remembered 
 at once, having often met him in Genoae
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 227 
 
 " While these thoughts were passing through 
 my mind, the Spanish officer requested us to 
 get ready to follow hini to the judge ap- 
 pointed to hear our case, and in whose court 
 we should find our accuser, Captain Barracco. 
 We were soon ready. 
 
 On leaving the locanda we were surrounded 
 by a rascally rabble of the lower orders, who 
 saluted us by cursing us as a couple of rascally 
 pirates, and after a time pelting us with mud ; 
 but the officers interfering, we reached the 
 court house without further molestation. We 
 found several of the principal inhabitants assem- 
 bled from curiosity, and Captain Barracco 
 awaiting our arrival. 
 
 "The magistrate and his clerk having taken 
 their seats, the Genoese captain opened the 
 •case by stating that, when in Genoa, he had 
 heard from the Signer Gavotti's son of the 
 manner in which his father had lost his brig ; 
 his two sisters, and the lady to whose care 
 they had been entrusted, having returned
 
 228 BROKEN FETTEES. 
 
 from Corsica. They informed their father 
 
 that the skipper, Benedetto Lotero, and the 
 
 supercargo, Julio Vachero, had planned the 
 
 piracy of the vessel. 
 
 '' ' Avast there, captain,' roared Luigi 
 
 Malatesta; 'that's a cursed lie; the lad 
 
 there — ' 
 
 " ' Silence that man/ shouted the judge to 
 
 the officers of the court, in a loud, angrj 
 
 tone. ' Signor Capitano, be so good as to 
 
 continue.' 
 
 " 'A cursed set of lying lubbers,' grumbled 
 my worthy skipper, between his teeth. 
 
 " ' That is all, your worship," said Captain 
 Barracco.' 'I am ready to take oath that 
 what I have stated is fact, and am willing to 
 swear that man before me,' pointing to 
 the skipper, 'is Captain Benedetto Lotero, 
 and that youth, Julio Vachero.' 
 
 "'Ha! ha! ha!' laughed the skipper, 
 ' don't perjure yourself, my worthy. If you 
 swear that, you'll swear a lie, my hearty.'
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 O0( 
 
 " Captain Barracco looked daggers at the 
 skipper, who laughed in his face. 
 
 " ' This morning early/ continued the 
 Genoese Captain, ' I saw the long boat of the 
 brig '' Ida," hauled upon the jetty. I read the 
 name and the owner's name as well. I was 
 excessively astonished, and upon making en- 
 quiries, the accounts I heard induced me to 
 lay my present charge before you ; and now 
 that I have seen the prisoners, I feel satisfied 
 my charge is correct.' 
 
 " Captain Barracco was then sworn, and 
 repeated his charge. 
 
 " 'What have you to say to this charge of 
 pirating the brig " Ida,'' from her owner, the 
 Signor Matteo Gavotti ?' demanded the judge 
 of Luigi Malatesta. 
 
 " 'Just what I told you before; that fellow,' 
 pointing to Captain Barracco, ' has perjured 
 himself. In the first place, my name is not 
 Benedetto Lotero. I shall say nothing more, 
 -except that this lad had no more to do with
 
 230 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the charge made against him than you had. 
 That's all I have to say to you, so make the 
 most of it/ 
 
 *' The Judge was amazingly angry, con- 
 versed in a low tone, first with a person near 
 him, and who I judged was a lawyer, and 
 then with his clerk. After a minute he 
 turned towards us, saying : — 
 
 " * I shall commit you as pirates. You will 
 be detained here, in prison, till an opportunity 
 occurs of sending you to Genoa, where you 
 will be tried by the laws of the Eepublic. 
 Officers, take them to the bagnio, and keep 
 them separate.' 
 
 '^ These orders were strictly obeyed. You 
 may conceive, Count, my dismay, and in- 
 deed rage, on finding myself a prisoner, 
 in one of the most frightful sinks of ini- 
 quity the imagination can fancy. I mean 
 the bagnio or prison of the galley slaves, for 
 there it was we were confined, in dismal, dirty 
 cells, and badly fed. The only air and exer-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS, 231 
 
 cise we were allowed was in a large court, 
 amid a whole gang of the lowest description 
 of ruffians. 
 
 " I will not tire you with an account of 
 all I suffered a period of nearly nine 
 months, during which time I was never 
 allowed to go out at the same hour as Luigi 
 Malatesta. We were treated in every respect 
 like condemned convicts, except not being 
 branded or clothed in the galley attire ; but 
 our food and general treatment were the same. 
 One morning the jailer entered my cell, with 
 an assistant, and placed on my wrists a pair 
 of handcuffs, telling me to follow him. 1 did 
 so. In an outer chamber I saw the skipper, 
 also handcuffed. He held out his hand to 
 me, and shook mine heartily, saying : — 
 
 " ' TonH be down-hearted, my lad. Cheer 
 up, we are going at last to be sent out of this 
 hell- up on- earth — curse 'em! There's a Sar- 
 dinian brig-of-war outside ; we shall be taken 
 to Genoa. Never fear, I will clear you anyhow.'
 
 232 BROKEN fettp:rs. 
 
 " The skipper was right ; we were taken 
 on board the "Ajax/' a fine gun brig, bound to 
 Genoa, which city we reached in six days, 
 were landed, and again placed in separate 
 cells, in the city prison. Even this was a re- 
 lief; we were free from the horrid blasphemy 
 of the galley slaves, and the disgusting filth 
 of the Bagnio of Carthagena.' 
 
 " I felt in better spirits, expecting every 
 hour a visit from my poor mother, as well as 
 getting released, by the order of Signor 
 Gavotti, who must have been convinced by 
 his daughters, long ago, that I was quite 
 innocent of pirating away his brig ' Ida.' 
 Several days passed, and no human being 
 except the jailor entered my cell; and all 
 the answer I could get from that brute was, 
 ' if I did not hold my jaw he would put me 
 in irons.' 
 
 " A fortnight passed after our arrival 
 before our trial came on. I was almost in 
 despair. Where was my mother? Could
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 233 
 
 she be dead ! I shuddered as the thought 
 swept through my mind. "Was it possible 
 that the daughters of the Signor Gavotti 
 could know of my cruel imprisonment and 
 not make some effort to assist me, whom 
 they knew to be innocent? 
 
 " In the court, which was crowded, I saw 
 the faces of many persons I knew, but not 
 one returned the look of recognition ] cast 
 upon them. Anxiously I gazed from the 
 dock into the crowded court, and up to the 
 galleries, but nowhere could I see my mother. 
 There were several prisoners to be tried, but 
 our case came on first. 
 
 '' I do not intend wearying you with the 
 details of that detestable day, which threw a 
 shadow over the whole of my future exist- 
 ence. I discovered, during the progress of the 
 trial, that Signor Matteo Gavotti was dead, 
 that his son inherited his property, and 
 that he it was who prosecuted us. My 
 mother I learned was no longer in Genoa ;
 
 234 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 when or why she left the city, no one took 
 the trouble to inform me. When I enquired 
 for the two daughters of the Signor Gavotti, 
 to prove my innocence, I was told that the 
 eldest was married, and that the two youngest 
 were with her in Florence. The oath of 
 Luigi Malatesta that I was innocent was 
 perfectly unheeded. 
 
 " It was proved by Captain Barracco, who 
 found us at Garth agena, that I was living in 
 perfect amity and fellowship with Luigi 
 Malatesta at a first rate locando in that city : 
 that the sale of the boat and our living on 
 the money obtained for it, proved our partner- 
 ship in the crime of piracy. Our judge was 
 well known as the severest and sternest of all 
 the Republic's magistrates. To my intense 
 rage and vexation we were condemned. My 
 blood runs cold even now, Count, when I 
 recall to memory the events of that day. 
 Luigi Malatesta was condemned to be branded 
 and sent to the galleys for life.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 235 
 
 CHAPTEE XIV. 
 
 *' In consideration of my youth I was 
 sentenced to the galleys for seven years, and 
 to be branded on the right shoulder. I 
 knew not what I said or did when I heard 
 this unjust sentence passed upon me. I only 
 remember that the judge said sternly, ' take 
 care, young man, or perhaps the seven years 
 may be changed to double that number.' 
 
 "I was conveyed back to prison. The next 
 day I was to be branded and sent to Lavera. In 
 the evening of that day, two jailors, with 
 assistants and a smith, conducting another
 
 236 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 prisoner, entered my cell. They carried 
 chains in their hands, and immediately the 
 smith and assistants commenced the operation 
 of chaining me to the convict they brought 
 into my cell. Resistance was out of the 
 question, though I was bursting with rage^ 
 and tortured with anxiety. 
 
 " My fellow convict, a tall, powerful man, 
 with by no means an unprepossessing coun- 
 tenance, talked, laughed, and joked with 
 the turnkey, as if the operation performing 
 was the pleasantest in the world. First a 
 massive ring of iron was rivetted round my 
 left ankle ; from this a heavy chain led to an 
 iron belt round the waist of my fellow con- 
 vict. A similar ring was rivetted on his 
 ankle ; which led to a belt round my waist. 
 This was padlocked. Havi ng thus fastened 
 us to each other, they left us to our su])per, 
 saying with a laugh — ' To-morrow morning 
 you will have your uniform, and the bi;^' G 
 will be put on your shoulder.'
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 287 
 
 '' I suppose I shuddered with disgust at 
 the disgrace and ignominy about to be in- 
 flicted on me. The turnkey perceived it, and 
 with a grin said: 
 
 " ' Ah ! you are thinking of the hot iron. 
 It's a mere nothing — we do things nicely — 
 only crumps up the flesh a little. We don't 
 like, yoxx see, to lose our children when once 
 we get them ; so we mark 'em.' 
 
 " As soon as we were left alone, I sat down 
 on the stone bench in despair. My companion 
 stood for a moment looking at me, lor we 
 were allowed a lamp that would burn for two 
 hours, and then sitting beside me, ate with an 
 exceedingly good appetite. 
 
 " 'You are down in the mouth, comrade/ 
 said the man ; ' I was in the Court during 
 your trial. I think you are innocent, in fact, 
 I could swear you are.' 
 
 '' i looked up in the man's face in some 
 surprise, saying 'What makes you think so ?' 
 
 '' ' I will tell you, comrade,' replied the man ;
 
 238 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 ^ but first let me save some of the oil of that 
 lamp; we shall want it presently, as you 
 will see.' 
 
 " We arose, for our movements, owino* to 
 the infernal chain that linked us, made us de- 
 pendent on each other. He poured out some 
 of the oil into the tin can we drank out of, 
 and then reseating ourselves, he said : 
 
 '^ ' I will tell you why I think you are in- 
 nocent. During your examination by the 
 judge, I overheard the conversation of two 
 men leaning on the rails of the dock against 
 which I was standing. It's useless repeating 
 what they said, but I heard enough to satisfy 
 me that you owed your conviction to the enmity 
 of your prosecutor, the young Gavotti. I be- 
 lieve the men were his own domestics, for they 
 spoke of his sisters, and how they had heard 
 them say you did all you could, when aboard 
 the brig you were accused of pirating, to 
 save and console them when you found the 
 skipper was a pirate. It's very little conso-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 239 
 
 lation, however/ added the man, ' to feel 
 you are innocent. I would rather have 
 done somethmg to deserve mj sentence.' 
 
 '' '• I differ with you,' I replied ; ' but tell 
 me what was your offence ?' 
 
 " ' Oh ! not much,' carelessly replied my 
 comrade. ' I am one of the famous brigands 
 of the Bochetta. You have heard of us, I 
 daresay.' 
 
 " ^ Yes,' I replied ; ' 1 have heard a great 
 many tales of your daring combination, and 
 how, for many years, you have defied the 
 powers of the Republic to root you out of your 
 mountain retreat. 
 
 '' My companion laughed merrily, saying 
 ' Tiicy will never be able to root us out. But 
 listen to me, comrade ; I have taken a fancy 
 to you.' 
 
 '' I looked at the man who was to be my 
 companion for the next seven years — if we 
 lived that time — not rightly comprehending 
 his strange, careless manner, while I was al-
 
 240 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 most maddened at the thought of the horrid 
 degradation I was doomed to undergo on the 
 morrow. 
 
 " He was a tall, muscular man, about three 
 and thirty years of age, with a countenance 
 dark and sunburnt, but a good-humoured 
 expression — nothing of the ferocity of a bri- 
 gand about him. 
 
 " ' Well, comrade, it is getting time for us 
 to act. Now, I'll give you your choice of 
 what I expect you will call two evils. Will 
 you join our band and take the oaths, or be 
 branded as a felon, and pass seven years of 
 your young life, chained as you now are, work- 
 ing like a slave and doomed to the lash of a 
 brutal overseer?' 
 
 '' 1 started from the bench, and stood looking 
 at the man with astonishment. 
 
 '•'Are you mad, or dreaming? Do you 
 know where you are? Have you forgotten 
 these baubles?' and I clanked the chains that 
 were a'allino' me almost to madness.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 241 
 
 '" Oh ! they are mere trifles to what 
 you will get after the branding. Never heed 
 the baubles, as you call them. Answer my 
 question: will you or will you not join our 
 band ? If I procure your freedom, will you 
 take the oaths?' 
 
 " ' Yes/ I exclaimed firmly, but consider- 
 ably excited. 
 
 '''Good.' 
 
 " ' Yes, give me freedom, and I will join 
 -any community that wars with the human 
 race; ever since the hour I was so un- 
 justly and cruelly condemned, my blood has 
 been boiling within me. But you talk of 
 improbabilities, if not impossibilities.' 
 
 " ' Not at all,' replied the brigand coolly. 
 * Do you see that window, with its four strong 
 iron bars?' 
 
 " I looked up mechanically ; there was a 
 window, certainly, strongly barred, through 
 which the light faintly entered. It was about 
 twelve feet from the floor of our cell. I 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 lauglied in bitterness of soul, as I looked alter- 
 nately at its security and our heavy fetters. 
 
 " 'Attend to what I say/ said the convict ; 
 ' in four hours, at the farthest, we must be 
 ready to get through that window. Listen ! 
 here comes our gaoler for the lamp. I have 
 been waiting for that ; after he closes the door 
 against us, we shall remain un visited till the 
 morning.' 
 
 " The bolts were shot back, the door 
 unlocked, and the turnkey entered ; and, after 
 examining our manacles and seeing all right, 
 retired, taking away the lamp. A strong ray 
 of moonlight entered our cell through the bars, 
 for there was no glass. 
 
 " ' Ah !' said my comrade, ' we are much 
 obliged to bright Phoebus ; but we must make 
 the most of her kindness, for she will be down 
 by the timfe we are ready. Now, let us to 
 work. That window looks out upon the har- 
 bour, and underneath is the rampart that runs 
 all round the port ; it's about fifty feet from
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 243 
 
 the wall. I know every incli of this building. 
 First, however, let us get rid of these orna- 
 ments,' and he laughed heartilj. 
 
 " Taking off his shoes, to my great surprise, 
 he took from between the soles five extraor- 
 dinarily thin and minute saws, and two equally 
 thin files and a knife-blade. 
 
 " ' You see, comrade, we carry our tools 
 with us. I suppose you never used tools of 
 this description, so you must count on lacerat- 
 ing your fingers a little ; but that's not as bad 
 as branding,' and he gave me a dig on the 
 shoulder ; ' so let us get to work. ' 
 
 " We went close under the light, that I might 
 observe the way he used the saws, which he 
 informed me were made from the same steel as 
 the mainsprings of watches. 
 
 "The man went to work with such energy 
 and skill, that in less than an hour he had 
 actually freed his leg from the chain, but 
 leaving the ring round his ankle, for that it 
 would be impossible to remove. 
 
 M 2
 
 244 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 '' I worked vigorously, so hard, indeed, that 
 the perspiration rolled from my head and 
 face in drops as large as peas. He, however, 
 was obliged to help me, for not being accus- 
 tomed to the fine tools, I did not make 
 the progress he did. In little more than 
 another half-hour, my leg was freed. In 
 less time we divided the link confining the 
 chains to the waist. I asked no questions, 
 but obeyed all my comrade's instructions. 
 
 *' Our next task was to cut up the whole of 
 our bedding and covering into strips, and 
 finally twisting it into a strong rope of above 
 sixty feet. After accomplishing this, and try- 
 ing the strength of our rope, yard by yard, we 
 raised the frame of the oak bedstead against 
 the wall and commenced operations upon the 
 iron bars, two of which tried all our strength 
 alternately for two hours, my hands bleeding 
 a good deal ; even my comrade's hands 
 suffered in this operation, and I unfortunately 
 broke two of the saws. The files, however, 
 did us good service.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 245 
 
 '' By this time the moon had set, and the 
 night, in less than an hour, became gloomy 
 and overcast. We could hear the bell of the 
 Annunciat a toll the fourth hour of the morn- 
 ing as we fastened our rope to the two remain- 
 ing bars. T must confess my heart beat 
 strangely, while my companion was as cool 
 and as unconcerned as if it were for pastime 
 we were working. The oil of the lamp proved 
 of essential service; in fact, I doubt if we 
 could have accomplished cutting through the 
 bars without it. The rope was knotted at 
 intervals, so that our descent might be less 
 hazardous. As my comrade prepared to des- 
 cend, he whispered — 
 
 " ' Not one word now, for on each side of 
 us are two sentinels, about a hundred yards 
 distant. They belong to the garrison, not the 
 prison. Utter no sound, even should you 
 suffer.' 
 
 " The next instant he passed his body 
 through the opening, and slid down the rope. I
 
 246 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 lost sight of him in the gloom and fog that 
 rose from the water of the harbour, over the 
 rampart. I waited a minute, and then thrusting 
 myself out of the window, with little difficulty, 
 reached the rampart. The rope had proved 
 quite long enough. 
 
 "The fog was very dense, and that, added 
 to the darkness of the night, rendered it im- 
 possible to see more than a couple of yards 
 ahead. My companion placed his hand upon 
 my arm, whispering in my ear — 
 
 " ' Most likely the sentinel is in his box ; 
 steal along with your hands on the wall ; when 
 we reach his box, our united strength will 
 enable us to pitch it over on its face ; that 
 will settle its lazy inmate for a time. Fifty 
 yards farther will take us to the steps lead- 
 ing down into the street. Keep close to me 
 then, and in less than half-an-hour we shall 
 be as safe as if on the summit of the Bochetta.' 
 
 *' My comrade was right; the sentinel was 
 in his box, quietly humming a tune. Silently,
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 247 
 
 we placed our shoulders against it, and at the 
 same instant putting forth our united strength, 
 heaved it over on its face. It went 
 upon the ramparts with a loud crash, and a 
 smothered exclamation of pain and terror from 
 the astonished soldier. 
 
 *' Springing over the box, we hurried on, 
 gained the steps, and in another minute were 
 in the long, dismal street — chiefly occupied by 
 braziers and tin- workers — that runs along the 
 harbour wall from the Porto del Mare, nearly 
 to the arsenal. Along this my companion led 
 the way, and turning down a narrow lane, 
 continued for nearly half-an-hour, twisting 
 and turning through a part of the city I knew 
 no more of than I do of New York. Sud- 
 denly he paused, in a very narrow street, on 
 each side of which the houses were exceedingly 
 lofty, and entering beneath an archway, he 
 stopped at a door, and I believed pulled some 
 kind of bell or signal, for in less than five 
 minutes the door swung open.
 
 248 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " ' Hold my arm/ said my guide. 
 
 '' I did so ; and tlien T heard tLe door close, 
 seemingly of itself. The darkness was impene- 
 trable ; but my conductor walked steadily 
 along the passage till we came to a flight of 
 stone-stairs, up which we went, still in dark- 
 ness, till we stopped at a second door. Against 
 this he gave ^ye peculiar knocks, and presently 
 a small panel opened, and a voice issued from 
 it, there was no light, saying — 
 
 " ' Five times five.* 
 
 " * Double it,' said my companion, ' and it 
 will make fifty.' 
 
 " Immediately the door fell back, and we 
 passed in. Still T saw no one ; we evidently 
 walked along a corridor for about twenty 
 yards, and then my companion opened a door ; 
 and for the first time light fell upon surround- 
 mg objects. 
 
 '^ ' Follow me,' said my comrade ; ' but utter 
 not a word till I address you.' 
 
 " We passed through the door and
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 249 
 
 entered a very large and lofty saloon. I was 
 startled at what I saw on entering the room. 
 I first of all perceived a large fire facing me, 
 and in the middle of the room stood a massive 
 and rather large table, on which were 
 scattered every variety of edibles of all kinds, 
 flasks and jars of wine, goblets and glasses — 
 some upset and some broken, and a quantity 
 of wine flowing from the table to the floor. 
 Along one side of this chamber were ranged 
 about a dozen broad benches, on one of which 
 a male figure was sleeping, covered only with 
 a mantle — a thin mattress formed his bed ; 
 others were sleeping in different parts of the 
 room. Only one of the sleepers raised his 
 head as we entered ; he looked, stupidly at 
 first, at my comrade, but getting more awake, 
 or quickly recognising him, he started to his 
 feet with a loud oath, saying in a rough, 
 though joyful tone : — 
 
 '"By the bones of St. Anthony ! this is a 
 surprise. Your hand, Captain. But who the 
 
 M 5
 
 250 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 devil is the strange bird you have brought 
 with you 7 
 
 " 'All in good time, Jerome. Hallo ! they 
 are all awake now.' 
 
 "And true enough, in less than two 
 minutes twelve rough and certainly very 
 suspicious-looking individuals had roused 
 from their sleep and surrounded my comrade, 
 each shaking him heartily by the hand. 
 
 " He whispered something in the ear of 
 each, evidently concerning me, for they all 
 offered me their hand, shaking mine heartily, 
 wishing me to join them in a glass to our 
 healths, and congratulating me on my escape 
 from the branding iron. This being done, my 
 comrade took me by the arm, led me to the 
 further end of the room, and opening a door, 
 shewed me another chamber very similar to 
 the one we were in, though not so large. In 
 it were several of the same kind of beds along 
 the walls ; giving me a lamp, he said : 
 
 " There, get two or three hours' rest ; it is
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 251 
 
 contrary to the rules for a new member to 
 stay with the brotherhood till he has taken 
 the oaths. In the morning, or rather in a few 
 hours, there will be a smith here to relieve us 
 from these elegant jewels. Farewell for the 
 present.' 
 
 " He left me to my own reflections, which 
 were not so painful as might have been anti- 
 cipated, for youth and fatigue, and joy at 
 escaping the ignominy of the branding iron of 
 the galley slave, banished all other thoughts, 
 and in a few minutes I was sound asleep— 
 on certainly a very hard bed, without cover- 
 ing of any sort. 
 
 " It is not in my power, Count, to tell you 
 the nature of the oaths I took the next day, 
 before the men who are the city comrades of the 
 mountain band. Our manacles were taken, 
 by a smith, from our ankles. I suffered 
 greatly, for the iron being riveted too 
 tightly, had galled my leg sadly. 
 
 " My comrade of the prison was no less a
 
 252 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 person than the Captain of the band I now 
 command. 
 
 " ' I can tell you something/ said one of the 
 men who sat next me at breakfast that morn- 
 ing, ' that will give you some clue to the en- 
 mity with which the younger Gavotti prose- 
 cuted you.' I had related my story to the man. 
 * You had a mother and sister, had you not ?^ 
 
 " ' Yes,' I replied, looking anxiously at the 
 speaker. 
 
 " ' Well, then,' continued the man, ' the 
 younger Gavotti wanted to have your sister 
 on his own terms.' 
 
 "'What!' I exclaimed, the blood rushing 
 to my face and temples, ' how do you know 
 that? I am not aware they had ever met/ 
 
 "Ah! but I know better,' said the man, 
 with a knowing grin ; ' you see we occasion- 
 ally do trifling jobs for the young nobility 
 and gentry here in the city. In fact, any- 
 thing, if the purse offered is well filled. Well, 
 your sister did not like the offer of the
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 253 
 
 youngster, but he was determined to have 
 her. ur city band services are always to be 
 had by following certain rules, and this young 
 Gavotti got an introduction to our Captain. 
 I don't mean your Capitano ; we have a city 
 Captain of our own; and offered a good 
 round sum to him to carry off the girl and 
 take her to his father's country house at 
 Nervi, which at the time was uninhabited.' 
 
 *'I did not speak, but listened with the 
 greatest anxiety, my blood boiling with rage. 
 The man continued: 
 
 " 'You are now one of us, therefore I may 
 tell you all I know. Jerome and I were 
 appointed to manage the girl— excuse me, 
 comrade — your worthy little sister, I mean, 
 and a pretty and virtuous girl she was — ' 
 
 " ' Was !' I interrupted, in a hoarse voice. 
 ' By heaven ! if the villain has dared to 
 destroy — ' 
 
 " 'At the moment I was speaking, the door 
 of the apartment was violently thrown open,
 
 254 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 and two or three of tlie band rushed into the 
 room ; they were in a great state of excite- 
 ment/ 
 
 "'What's the matter?' asked the man I 
 had been talkino; to. 
 
 *' ' The city is in a state of violent tumult. 
 Every quarter has poured forth its inhabitants 
 — a bloody warfare is this moment raging in 
 the streets against the Austrian garrison.' 
 
 " This intelligence caused great commotion 
 amongst the community. They whispered 
 together for several moments, and then dis- 
 persed. 
 
 '''Come with me/ said my companion of the 
 breakfast table, whose name in the band was 
 Vincentio Mola. ' We may show ourselves 
 anywhere in the city we please. The mob 
 have attacked and broken open the prisons, 
 and turned out the inmates, provided them 
 with arms, and in fact every soul of the lower 
 order of the people is roused into mad rage 
 against their cursed oppressors, the Austrians.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 255 
 
 Many of the mansions of the nobility and 
 wealthy merchants will be pillaged during 
 the outbreak, for there are hundreds always 
 ready for that kind of work during popular 
 commotions/ 
 
 " All this time my thoughts were dwelling 
 upon my unfortunate sister and her brutal 
 oppressor — the younger Gavotti. I placed a 
 pair of pistols, Mola gave me, in my pockets, 
 and each taking a cutlass from the stores, we 
 sallied forth, completely undisguised, into the 
 streets. 
 
 " I will explain in a few words, the cause 
 of this last and glorious effort of the people of 
 Genoa to put down their tyrannous conquerors. 
 Some short time before the Austrian general, 
 Botto Adorno, had been admitted into the 
 city, at the head of fifteen thousand men. No 
 sooner was he in possession than he took the 
 most insulting and oppressive advantage of 
 the miserable cowardice of the Senate. His 
 monstrous rapacity and the insolence of his 
 troops exceeded all human forbearance.
 
 256 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 " In less than three months he had extorted 
 contributions to the amount of twenty-four 
 millions of florins •, his troops were suffered 
 to commit the most brutal excesses among the 
 citizens and peasantry. Many of the nobles 
 were exiled, the Great National Bank of St. 
 George was totally drained of its treasures, 
 and failed ; the church plate and the property of 
 private individuals were ruthlessly seized. In 
 fact, they left the miserable people nothing 
 but life to lose. 
 
 " At this period of furious rage against 
 their oppressors, when the goaded and suffer- 
 ing people still retained sufficient courage — 
 and merited a better government than their 
 degenerate oligarchy— the main Austrian 
 army passed out into Provence. Botta 
 Adorno despatched a great part of his artillery 
 from the arsenal to assist at the siege of 
 Antibes. 
 
 " On the very morning of my escape 
 from prison, an accident gave rise to the 
 insurrection ; the long-smothered hatred
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 257 
 
 of the people burst forth. In removing 
 a heavy mortar, its carriage broke down ; the 
 Austrian officer in command insolently and 
 brutally struck a Genoese who was passing, 
 and who had indignantly refused to put his 
 shoulder to the carriage. The Genoese 
 boldly resented this petty tyrant, and 
 wounded him, and the crowd assembled 
 attacked the Austrian party with a shower of 
 stones. Like magic, the whole body of the 
 lower orders flew to arms. 
 
 " The Genoese garrison, confounded 
 by the sudden revolt, attacked on alt 
 sides, entangled in the narrow streets, 
 and crushed and wounded by every kind 
 of missile thrown from the windows and bouse 
 tops, were over powered and defeated in 
 detail. 
 
 '' Such was the state of afiairs as, following 
 my companion, I found myself in the crowded 
 and tumultuous streets of the city. All I 
 shall say of the insurrection is, that in four-
 
 258 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 and twenty hours the Austrians were driven 
 in disgrace from the city. 
 
 *' I will relate one incident that occurred to 
 myself during the tumult of that memorable 
 day. Following a formidable band of the 
 people, who were going to fortify a house that 
 stood in a most favourable position for defence, 
 I perceived a rabble breaking into a mansion 
 I recognized, at a glance, to be the resi- 
 dence of the late Matteo Gavotti. 'Those 
 are plunderers/ said T to Vincentio Mola, who 
 was close beside me, 'and that house is 
 Gavotti's. By heaven ! I will see if I cannot 
 have a word with the villain who ruined my 
 family and has disgraced me for ever/ And as 
 soon as the front door was broken down I 
 crushed through the mob, and was one of the 
 first who entered the house and rushed up 
 the great staircase leading from the hall. 
 On the first landing-place stood several 
 domestics armed, and at their head I at once 
 recognized Ludovico Gavotti.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 259 
 
 " In my eagerness I became foremost of 
 the rabble ; Gavotti knew me immediately, 
 and with a bitter curse he leveled a pistol at 
 my head. I felt the ball enter my left 
 shoulder, but it seemed only the sharp point 
 of a cold instrument entering iny flesh, and I 
 rushed at the youth like a maniac. The 
 mob shouted and cursed frightfully, and the 
 servants fled in terror. Before Gavotti could 
 discharge a second pistol I caught him by 
 the throat, and being by far the stronger 
 man, I dragged him into the adjoining apart- 
 ment, he struggling violently. The room 
 was nearly empty, for, anticipating something 
 might happen during the insurrection, the ser- 
 vants had removed the valuables to a place of 
 safety. The mob dispersed over the house, 
 seeking plunder. I remained alone with my 
 victim, who was a coward at heart ; I held 
 my cutlass to his throat, and in a low but 
 bitter voice I asked him where was his 
 victim, my sister Julia. My blood boiled at
 
 260 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the thoughts of all the wrong I and my family 
 had suffered at his hands, and I cursed him ; 
 swearing that hour should be his last if he 
 did not tell the truth. 
 
 " ' Your sister was no victim of 
 mine/ said Gavotti, in a hoarse and tremb- 
 ling voice ; ' you will not murder me for no- 
 thing ? ' 
 
 *' * Nothing, villain,' I repeated. ' Are you 
 speaking the truth ? Where are my mother 
 and sister? Answer me truly, or by the 
 heaven above you shall die/ 
 
 " ' I tell you I never injured your sister, 
 further than having her and her mother 
 carried to my country house at Nervi. I 
 solemnly swear that ere I could see her there, 
 she and her mother, with the woman who had 
 the care of theixi, escaped, and got across the 
 mountains ; but to what place I know not. 
 I loved her from the first moment I saw her. 
 I swore she should be mine, on my own 
 terms; but she escaped me.'
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 261 
 
 U ( 
 
 Admitting this to be true, what did I do 
 to incur the bitter hatred with which you per- 
 secuted me, knowing in your heart I was 
 guiltless of any act detrimental to your 
 father's interest ?' 
 
 " ' First, I hated you because your sister 
 threatened me with chastisement at your hands ; 
 and I doubly hated you because — ' and he 
 paused. 
 
 "'Because what?' I demanded. 
 
 '"Because my sister Laurina loved you, 
 and I swore you should never have her for 
 a wife.' 
 
 '' ' Great heaven ! ' I exclaimed, ' and for 
 such paltry causes have you, you miserable 
 wretch, condemned me body and soul ;' and 
 with a feeling of intense abhorrence I cast 
 him from me, and turned to quit the room, 
 when the door opened, and Yincentio Mola 
 entered, saying : 
 
 " ' Be quick, I have kept good watch for 
 you. Let us away, a body of the people are
 
 262 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 coming to turn this house into a fortress. 
 The plunderers have decamped, let us be off. 
 In an hour we must quit the city, and get to 
 our mountain retreat.' 
 
 " The story of my life is nearly finished. 
 Before night of the following day, I reached 
 this cave with my Captain, Vincentio Mola ; 
 and for three years I followed him in all his 
 undertakings. He was neither bloodthirsty 
 nor rapacious — twice I saved his life ; and 
 when, a year after, he was slain by a pistol 
 shot from a gens darme^ he insisted on the 
 band selecting me as their captain. 
 
 " This caused a division of our force ; the 
 fiercest and most ferocious followed Marco 
 Reminij and took up their residence in the 
 mountain fastnesses near A qui. 
 
 " I tried every means in my power to dis- 
 cover the retreat of my mother and sister, but 
 in vain. I could never gain the slightest 
 clue to their whereabouts, and know not 
 whether they are still in existence. I have
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 263 
 
 laboured hard to render my men less 
 ferocious in their contests with the gens 
 darvies ; it used to be the plan to 
 lie in ambush behind rocks, where they 
 could not be pursued, except on foot, 
 and shoot down all the unfortunate gens 
 dJarmes on their passage across the Bochetta. 
 Now they are never attacked unless they per- 
 sist in defending the travellers they are bound 
 to escort ; and this rarely happens, for we are 
 so well apprised by our spies, and others in 
 our pay, of the number and condition of those 
 we intend to waylay, that we generally adopt 
 the plan we pursued when we attacked the 
 Countess di Sera and entrap them without 
 bloodshed. 
 
 "I have nothing more to say, Count, only 
 to express my deep regret in allowing my 
 passions to overpower my reason. I was 
 condemned to a frightful fate, while perfectly 
 innocent, and I grasped, perhaps naturally, 
 at anything that offered a prospect of escape.
 
 264 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 Had I waited in prison till morning, the in- 
 surrection of the people would have given me 
 freedom ; the skipper, Luigi Malatesta, was 
 released and escaped from Genoa, while I, 
 despairing, and having no trust in a good 
 Providence, rashly bound myself for life to 
 become a robber. 
 
 " One consolation I have is that I have never 
 stained my hands with blood in any of our 
 encounters, nor ever fired at traveller or 
 soldier since I joined the band. I have, 
 however, made myself so useful to them in 
 many ways that they have invariably refused 
 to cancel my oaths, and unless they commit 
 some outrage upon my liberty, I cannot in 
 conscience resign my command." 
 
 The Count de Briesbach heard the brigand 
 to the end, with but few remarks. He pitied 
 him, for he said that he had been grievously 
 wronged ; though he could not help feeling that 
 the great fault in the man's career had been his 
 being so easily persuaded into adopting a life
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 265 
 
 of infamy to escape the degradation of being 
 branded as a galley slave. 
 
 " You are thinking, Count," said the rob- 
 ber, '' that had you been placed in the same 
 situation you would have borne the degrada- 
 tion, which was unjustly to be inflicted, in 
 preference to selecting a life of infamy, the 
 end of which must be either death or the very 
 fate from which I fled. Death shall rid me 
 from the latter, sooner — " 
 
 " There again," interrupted the Count, 
 *' your passion and fear of worldly scorn and 
 opprobium, are rendering you totally forgetful 
 of another world beside the one we live in. 
 Ko ! cast ofi* the chain that binds you. I do 
 not mean to advise you to betray your com- 
 panions — that would be infamous; but if 
 they refuse to let you depart, go witho ut their 
 leave to some distant land. You are young, 
 stout of heart, and may yet regain the esteem 
 of your fellow men. I cannot consider oaths 
 binding made to men leading a life of in- 
 famy — men, whose occupation and pursuits 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 involve the breaking of every tie, human and 
 divine. However, I will say no more for the 
 present ; it is late, and I trust to-morrow will 
 bring some intelligence that will enable you 
 to release the unfortunate young lady from 
 her cruel and painful position.'' 
 
 " I sincerely hope so,'' said the Captain ; 
 '^ but there is disunion in our banrl, and much 
 discontent. I am looked upon with suspicion ; 
 my refusal to demand ransom for you has 
 caused much grumbling." 
 
 "In sooth," replied the Count, smiling, 
 " they need not quarrel with you for that ; as 
 far as my ransom is concerned, they may de- 
 mand what sum they please ; but getting it 
 from a poor soldier of fortune— that is quite 
 out of the question." 
 
 '' Well, Count, I will wish you good night, 
 and trust that this affair will turn out better 
 than I anticipate. I will think over what 
 you said just now ; but to my mind, an oath 
 is an oath — no matter how or to whom given." 
 
 So saying, the brigand Captain left the 
 Count to his repose.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 267 
 
 CHAPTER XV, 
 
 On the eastern coast of Corsica, on the side 
 of a hill, stands the town of Bastia. At the 
 period of our tale it was considered the 
 capital of the island by the Genoese, who still 
 held it in their hands. The whole interior of 
 the island was in a state of open revolt. 
 Many of the towns along the west coast had 
 been attacked, the soldiers of the Republic 
 being either driven out or massacred, and the 
 people restored to liberty and their ancient 
 laws. Unassisted, the Genoese found it impos- 
 sible to resist the determined attacks of the 
 islanders; the war was, therefore, carried on,
 
 268 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 on both sides, with unrelenting animosity and 
 cruelty. 
 
 A large number of the Genoese nobility 
 and gentry inhabited the town of Bastia, who 
 were terribly alarmed at the state of things 
 throughout the island. One of these noblemen, 
 Phillippo Carignano, was at this period gover- 
 nor of Corsica. He was of a high, but 
 impoverished family, and had accepted the 
 dan gerous post at a time when there appeared 
 every probability that the power of Genoa, 
 over this ill-treated island, was drawing to its 
 close. 
 
 The Marchese de Carignano was a widower 
 and advanced in life; his family consisted of 
 a son and daughter. It was to the interest of 
 the nobles to promote dissensions, which they 
 turned to good account, by either confiscating 
 the estates of the islanders, or condemning 
 them to pay enormous fines, which went 
 chiefly into the governor's or commissary - 
 general's private coffers. It was also a com- 
 mon practice with the governor to condemn
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 269 
 
 numbers to the galleys in order that they 
 might purchase their freedom at a high price. 
 
 The Marchese de Carignano, not content 
 with the plunder he had amassed, appointed 
 his son commissary of Ajaccio, a circum- 
 stance fraught with misery to the Corsicans, 
 for bad and corrupt as was the sire, the son 
 was ten times worse. Francisco Count de 
 Carignano was in his twenty-eighth year, and 
 in Genoa was known as one of the most dis- 
 solute and most dissipated of the young no- 
 bility. He was tall and handsome, with very 
 insinuating manners, but with a countenance 
 strongly indicative of his character. He had 
 the reputation of being brave and skilful in 
 the use of the sword and pistol, and had more 
 than once convinced the Corsicans that be- 
 sides being a cruel, extortionate commissary 
 he was no mean soldier. 
 
 After this brief sketch we must request our 
 reader to accompany us into a large and well- 
 furnished chamber, in the Castle of Bastia, 
 
 N 3
 
 270 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 the residence of the commissary-general. In 
 this chamber sat the Marchese de Carignano, 
 the table before him covered with papers and 
 letters. Opposite to him was his secretary, 
 busily engaged writing what the governor 
 dictated. 
 
 In a deep recess of one of the large win- 
 dows, which commanded an extensive view 
 of the harbour and the Mediterranean, sat 
 the Marchese's daughter, the Lady Bianca, 
 occupied in writing. She was twenty years 
 of age, tall, well-formed, with dark eyes and 
 hair, handsome features, a clear and fine com- 
 plexion, and richly habited. The Marchese 
 continued dictating to his secretary letters to 
 the senate, stating* the necessity that existed 
 for an immediate reinforcement of troops and 
 stores. He was interrupted by the entrance 
 of a domestic, announcing the Count de 
 Matra. The Marchese instantly arose and 
 advanced a step or two to meet the Corsican,. 
 as he was entering the room.
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 271 
 
 The two noblemen, after a very cordial 
 greeting, advanced to where the lady Bianca 
 was seated ; and after a few enquiries and 
 saluting the lady, who cordially returned 
 his greeting, the Count de Matra retired with 
 the March ese into the deep recess of another 
 window, where they seated themselves. 
 
 There was a striking dissimilarity in the 
 persons and dress of the two noblemen. The 
 Marchese de Carignano was tall, somewhat 
 tliin, but very stately ; the Count de Matra 
 was about the middle height, robust, and 
 muscular, and some ten years younger than 
 the Governor. His manner was abrupt and 
 rather harsh. In his dress he adhered to the 
 costume of the Corsicans, who were always 
 extremely simple in their attire. 
 
 The Count de Matra had great wealth and 
 greater influence, and his siding with the 
 Genoese was, in a great measure, the cause of 
 the prolonged and bloody struggle that kept 
 the island in a state of perpetual warfare for 
 years ; for had his influence, connection,
 
 272 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 and numerous vassals joined the patriots, the 
 struggle would scarcely have lasted a year. 
 
 "Well, Count," said the Marchese, " I trust 
 you have received more certain intelligence of 
 your beloved daughter. It is a most distress- 
 ing case ; and when I return to Genoa, I will 
 lay before the Senate a representation of the 
 frightful evils caused by those brigands of 
 the Bochetta, and urge some vigorous measure 
 for putting down the marauders." 
 
 " That you can do,'' replied the Count ; 
 " but as far as I am concerned, I am happy to 
 tell you that Vannina has escaped from the 
 villanous bandits." 
 
 " Ha T' exclaimed the Governor, in a highly 
 pleased tone ; " this is, in truth, joyful and 
 unexpected news. Where did you hear it? 
 How on earth did the dear girl contrive to get 
 free ? I am quite astonished ! Only three 
 days ago you wrote to the Count de Eivalora 
 to pay whatever sum was demanded for her 
 ransom." 
 
 " I did ; but Vannina was in Genoa before
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 273 
 
 that letter reached its destination," and the 
 Count rubbed his large, bony hands with 
 every appearance of satisfaction. " She has, 
 thanks to the Virgin Mary, escaped without 
 my paying those greedy rascals a single car- 
 lini." 
 
 '^ Excuse me, Count ; I must tell Bianca 
 this good news. Three days ago she had a 
 letter from her friend, the Countess di Sera, 
 giving a long account of this sad affair. I 
 have not heard the particulars, having been so 
 much occupied with dictating letters to my 
 secretary, who sails for Genoa with them to- 
 morrow.'' 
 
 " The very reason, ^farchese, I hurried over 
 from Fiorenza. You mentioned your inten- 
 tion of sending your secretary, and that he 
 would return immediately. I will despatch 
 Vannina's nurse over, and he can take charge 
 of them back." 
 
 '* I was going to propose that my son should 
 proceed to Genoa and escort back his be- 
 trothed ; I think your plan is better."
 
 274 BROKEN FETTERS, 
 
 "Bianca, my dear girl, come here/^ ex- 
 claimed the Marcliese. 
 
 Bianca joined the two noblemen. 
 
 " You will be surprised to learn that your 
 friend, Vannina, about whom you have been 
 so uneasy, is quite safe and well, and now 
 under the protection of the Countess di 
 Sera/' 
 
 " What !'^ exclaimed-the Lady Bianca," has 
 some one paid the immense sum the brigands 
 demanded for her rescue ; your letter, Count, 
 could not have reached them/* 
 
 "Rivalora's letter,'* replied the Count, 
 smiling, " is not very explanatory. He merely 
 says that through the agency and gallantry of 
 a cavalier, named the Count de Briesbach, 
 who was captured at the same time, Vannina 
 was — '' 
 
 " Count de Briesbach," said the governor, 
 thoughtfully, " a young man ? '' 
 
 " I can't say,'' replied de Matra. ^' Kival- 
 ora said nothing about that; in truth he 
 writes very strangely. I never heard him
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 275 
 
 speak of this rebellion in the manner he does 
 in his recent letter." 
 
 " I can enlighten you about this Count de 
 Briesbach, father," replied the Lady Bianca. 
 " The Countess di Sera's letters are full of his 
 praises. She describes him as remarkably 
 handsome, splendid figure, and of unquestion- 
 able gallantry. She says he has greatly dis- 
 tinguished himself during the late war in the 
 Milanese, serving in the army of the King of 
 Sardinia. She declares that his conversation 
 is not alone pleasing, but positively brilliant.'* 
 
 The Marchese looked at his daughter 
 whilst she v^as speaking, with a rather trou- 
 bled expression , of countenance, while the 
 Count de Matra said, in a rough, but good 
 humoured manner, — 
 
 " Why, Bianca, your friend the Countess 
 has been describing an Adonis. The Genoese 
 beauties will have to take care of their hearts.'* 
 
 ''In sooth. Count," replied Bianca, with 
 rather a sarcastic tone, "your fair daughter 
 runs the greatest risk of losing her heart."
 
 276 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 '^ Pooh ! '' said the Count, " the hearts of 
 girls at sixteen are very inflammable articles. 
 Your amiable brother, Francisco, when she 
 arrives, must charm away the image of this 
 German Apollo.'' 
 
 " You think too lightly of maidens' hearts, 
 Count," said Bianca, seriously. " You will 
 find them stubborn things to bend, when 
 once let loose, especially at Vannina's age." 
 
 ''If your brother gets her hand," replied 
 the Count de Matra, rising, " he will, I fancy, 
 soon succeed in securing her heart." 
 
 The Count and the governor left the 
 room together, conversing earnestly upon the 
 subject of the rebellion, as tjiey termed it. 
 
 Bianca stood quietly gazing at the door 
 through which her father and the Count had 
 left the saloon ; and after a few minutes she 
 walked over to the table, where sat the 
 secretary. He raised his eyes — and dark, and 
 brilliant, and wicked eyes they were — to the 
 Lady Bianca, and then looked towards the 
 door. He arose, and taking the unresisting
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 277 
 
 hand of the governor's daughter, led her to- 
 wards the recess she had previously occupied. 
 
 "What marvellous intelligence is it, that 
 seems to have had such effect upon you all ? 
 I caught a word or two, but could make 
 nothing out of it.'* 
 
 '' Simply, Ludovico," replied Bianca, " that 
 my dear friend Vannina has escaped from the 
 brigands. But I feel certain that she is still 
 in bondage." 
 
 " I thought you said she was free ? " said 
 the secretary. 
 
 " So I did ; but, though she has bodily 
 escaped, her heart is captured, or I'm no 
 woman." 
 
 Bianca explained how the Count de 
 Matra s daughter had escaped. 
 
 " My father and the Count have arranged," 
 continued Bianca, " that you, Ludovico, are to 
 take charge of the wanderer home. Take care 
 of yourself; I know not how to trust you." 
 And the Governor's daughter looked keenly, 
 
 VOL. I.
 
 278 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 and, it must be confessed, somewhat doubt- 
 fully, into tbe young man^s face. 
 
 "With your image so firmly impressed 
 here," replied the youth, kissing the fair hand 
 he held, and placing it on his breast, " what 
 power could another's beauty have over me ? 
 my whole heart is yours, and yours only, 
 dear Bianca. Surely you cannot doubt me, 
 after all I undergo for you. Is it nothing to 
 sit and write hour after hour, and listen day 
 after day about these villanous islanders 
 and their rebellious doings ? and all for love 
 of you, Bianca." 
 
 "Not quite that, Ludovico. Did not 
 your own thoughtless extravagance and the 
 necessity of doing something, after dissi- 
 pating a noble fortune, induce you in the 
 first instance to accept my father's ofier of 
 becoming his secretary, and the promise of 
 the first vacant post of commissary in this 
 island?" 
 
 " Which very enviable situation, my dear 
 girl," added the handsome secretary, "he
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 279 
 
 bestowed upon your worthy brother Fran- 
 cisco. So you ought to allow me some credit, 
 besides a mercenary one, in this bargain with 
 your father/' 
 
 "Oh! yes, a little, Ludovico," said the 
 Lady Bianca. " But let me warn you upon 
 this subject of Vannina. I tell you, our future 
 union depends in a great measure upon Fran- 
 cisco's marriage with this wealthy heiress. 
 Owing to this insurrection, my father's 
 governorship has turned out anything but 
 lucrative. You know how embarrassed he 
 was before he had this appointment. Your 
 claims upon him are as far off being settled 
 as ever. You have left yourself without re- 
 sources; and I am portionless. To marry 
 under such circumstances would be the height 
 of folly.'' 
 
 " Upon my soul, Bianca, you weigh our 
 love and future happiness in a very nice 
 balance. When you knew that money was 
 so essential to our union, in the name of for- 
 tune why did you dissuade me from inter-
 
 280 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 fering when your father gave the lucrative 
 post of commissary of Ajaccio to your brother. 
 He could not have refused to bestow it on me 
 if I had demanded it." 
 
 *' The reason is very simple, Ludovico,'' 
 said the governor's daughter calmly. " You 
 are no soldier, and Ajaccio, at the time of 
 Francisco's nomination, required a bold and 
 fearless leader,and one accustomed to warfare/' 
 
 "Humph!" muttered the secretary, a 
 slight colour suffusing his face for a moment ; 
 " and so, Bianca, you considered your lover 
 quite unfit to become a soldier. Perhaps," he 
 continued with some asperity, "you think 
 him a coward also ?" 
 
 " This is trifling, Ludovico, Did I think 
 so, there could be little love between us. 
 Now hear my other reason. On your return 
 from Genoa with the fair Vannina, my father 
 has promised me that he will get you ap- 
 pointed to the far better post of Commissary 
 of Calvi, one of the best and wealthiest towns 
 on the island; and which is surrounded by
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 281 
 
 the lands and domains of the Count de Matra, 
 who, you know, with all his numerous vas- 
 sals sides with us/' 
 
 " You are the dearest girl in the world, 
 Bianca," said the secretary, kissing, not the 
 hand, but the lips of the fair Genoese, '* and I 
 the most ungrateful of men. But is this for- 
 tunate intelligence certain? By Jove! just 
 let me be Commissary of Calvifor two years, 
 and I will ask no further favor of Dame For- 
 tune than this fair hand.'' 
 
 " It is quite true. It was this very morn- 
 ing that my father told me he had got the 
 post for you, but did not wish to tell you 
 till after your return from Genoa, Another 
 thing I was anxious to impart. The Count 
 de Matra wishes for a youthful companion for 
 Vannina, She will be betrothed immediately 
 after her arrival here ; but the marriage will 
 not take place till she has attained the age of 
 eighteen, otherwise she would lose the fief of 
 Monza, left her by her uncle, who made a
 
 282 BROKEN FETTERS. 
 
 most singular will. Could you not bring 
 your sister Laurina back with you ? — she 
 would, I am sure, be very happy with Van- 
 nina, and help to keep her, by her good spirits, 
 from moping and thinking, and fancying her- 
 self in love with this handsome Count de 
 Briesbach. I fear we shall have much 
 trouble about this Count, judging from the 
 letters of the Countess di Sera. You will see 
 him, no doubt, at the Palace di Sera, and be 
 able to form some judgment as to the state 
 of affairs/' 
 
 "As to the girFs being in love,'' said 
 the secretary, in a careless tone, " it will 
 signify very little. I have seen and heard a 
 good deal of the stern and determined charac- 
 ter of the Count de Matra, and when he says 
 his daughter shall marry Francisco Carignano, 
 by Jove ! she must marry him or go into a 
 convent. Laurina will be glad to accompany 
 Vannina, and quit the dull mansion of her 
 present protectress. I will send for her im-
 
 BROKEN FETTERS. 283 
 
 mediately on my arrival at Genoa, and intro- 
 duce lier to the heiress." 
 
 The daughter of the Governor of Corsica 
 and her lover, Ludovico Gavotti (for our 
 readers will have discovered who the handsome 
 secretary was), remained for nearly half-an- 
 hour in earnest conversation ere they sepa- 
 rated; the former to make arrangements 
 for his departure for Genoa, and the Lady 
 Bianca to finish her letters to the Countess 
 di Sera and the Lady Vannina. 
 
 END OF VOL 1. 
 
 T. C. Is'bwbt, 30, Welbeck Street, Cavendish Square, London.