Never been on this road in my life. But, at the same time, I
can assure you that this gentleman is a particular friend of mine, and
one of the best fellows I know. I'd stake my life on his perfect truth
and honor. If he says any thing, you may believe it because he says
it. If he says there are brigands on the road, they must be there."
"Oh, of course," said Lady Dalrymple. "You are right to believe your
friend, and I should trust his word also. But do you not see that
perhaps he may believe what he says, and yet be mistaken?"
At this the Baron's face fell. Lord Hawbury's warm commendation of him
had excited his hopes, but now Lady Dalrymple's answer had destroyed
them.
"For my part," she added, "I don't really think any of us know much
about it. I wish we could find some citizen of the town, or some
reliable person, and ask him. I wonder whether the inn-keeper is a
trust-worthy man."
The Baron shook his head.
"I wouldn't trust one of them. They're the greatest rascals in the
country. Every man of them is in league with the Garibaldians and
brigands. This man would advise you to take whatever course would
benefit himself and his friends most."
"But surely we might find some one whose opinion would be reliable.
What do you say to one of my drivers? The one that drove our carriage
looks like a good, honest man."
"Well, perhaps so; but I wouldn't trust one of them. I don't believe
there's an honest vetturino in all Italy."
Lady Dalrymple elevated her eyebrows, and threw at Hawbury a glance of
despair.
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