"Yet will I bear it--I will submit to my destiny. I will traverse
every path and go through every degree of human wretchedness; and
whate'er may be my fate, I will still be myself; and whate'er may be
my fate, I will still act greatly! Away, then, with the Count
Rosalvo, whom all Naples idolised; now--now, I am the beggar
Abellino. A beggar--that name stands last in the scale of worldly
rank, but first in the list of the famishing, the outcast, and the
unworthy."
Something rustled near him. Abellino gazed around. He was aware of
the bravo, whom he struck to the ground that night, and whom two
companions of a similar stamp had now joined. As they advanced,
they cast inquiring glances around them. They were in search of
some one.
"It is of me that they are in search," said Abellino; then advanced
a few steps, and whistled.
The ruffians stood still; they whispered together, and seemed to be
undecided.
Abellino whistled a second time.
"'Tis he," he could hear one of them say distinctly, and in a moment
after they advanced slowly towards him.
Abellino kept his place, but unsheathed his sword. The three
unknown (they were masked) stopped a few paces from him.
"How now, fellow!" quoth one of them; "what is the matter? Why
stand you on your guard?"
Abellino.--It is as well that you should be made to keep your
distance, for I know you; you are certain honest gentlemen, who live
by taking away the lives of others.
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