LITMIR.BIZ

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      "'Ah, we will see that!' said the Prince.

      "'Yes, we will see that!' said the driver.

      "Hereupon the prince spoke to his German servant, Frantz, who was sitting beside the coachman, and bade him administer due correction to this refractory fellow.

      "Frantz descended from the voiture without uttering a word, pulled down the driver from his seat, and pummelled him with true German gravity. Then pointing to the road, helped him on his box, and reseated himself by his side. The driver proceeded—a little slower than before. One wearies of all things in this world, even of beating a coachman. The prince, reasoning with himself that, fast or slow, he must at length arrive at his journey's end, counselled the princess his mother to compose herself to sleep; and, burying himself in one corner of the carriage, gave her the example.

      "The driver occupied six hours in going from Livorno to Pontedera; just four hours more than was necessary. Arrived at Pontedera, he invited the Prince to descend, as he was about to change the carriage.

      "'But,' said the Prince, 'I have given twelve piastres to your master on condition that the carriage should not be changed.'

      "'Where is the paper?'

      "'Fellow, you know I have none.'

      "'In that case, your excellence, we will change the carriage.'

      "The prince was half-disposed to break the rascal's bones himself; but, besides that this would have compromised his dignity, he saw, from the countenances of those who stood loitering round the carriage, that it would be a very imprudent step. He descended; they threw his baggage down upon the pavement, and after about an hour's delay, brought out a miserable dislocated carriage and two broken-winded horses.

      "Under any other circumstances the Prince would have been generous—would have been lavish; but he had insisted upon his right, he was resolved not to be conquered. Into this ill-conditioned vehicle he therefore doggedly entered, and as the new driver had been forewarned that there would be no buona-mano, the equipage started amidst the laughter and jeers of the mob.

      "This time the horses were such wretched animals that it would have been out of conscience to expect anything more than a walk from them. It took six more hours to go from Pontedera to Empoli.

      "Arrived at Empoli the driver stopped, and presented himself at the door of the carriage.

      "'Your excellence sleeps here,' said he to the prince.

      "'How! are we at Florence?'

      "'No, your excellence, you are at the charming little town of Empoli.'

      "'I paid twelve piastres to your master to go to Florence, not to Empoli. I will sleep at Florence.'

      "'Where is the paper?'

      "'To the devil with your paper!'

      "'Your excellence then has no paper?'

      "'No.'

      "'In that case, your excellence now will sleep at Empoli!'

      "In a few minutes afterwards the prince found himself driven under a kind of archway. It was a coach-house belonging to an inn. On his expressing surprise at being driven into this sort of place, and repeating his determination to proceed to Florence, the coachman said, that, at all events, he must change his horses; and that this was the most convenient place for so doing. In fact, he took out his horses, and led them away.

      "After waiting some time for his return, the prince called to Frantz, and bade him open the door of this coach-house, and bring somebody.

      "Frantz obeyed, but found the door shut—fastened.

      "On hearing that they were shut in, the prince started from the carriage, shook the gates with all his might, called out lustily, and looked about, but in vain, for some paving stone with which to batter them open.

      "Now the prince was a man of admirable good sense; so, having satisfied himself that the people in the house either could not, or would not hear him, he determined to make the best of his position. Re-entering the carriage, he drew up the glasses, looked to his pistols, stretched out his legs, and wishing his mother good night, went off to sleep. Frantz did the same on his post. The princess was not so fortunate; she was in perpetual terror of some ambush, and kept her eyes wide open all the night.

      "So the night passed. At seven o'clock in the morning the door of the coach-house opened, and a driver appeared with a couple of horses.

      "'Are there not some travellers for Florence here?' he asked with the tone of perfect politeness, and as if he were putting the most natural question in the world.

      "The prince leapt from the carriage with the intention of strangling the man—but it was another driver!

      "'Where is the rascal that brought us here?' he demanded.

      "'What, Peppino? Does your excellence mean Peppino?'

      "'The driver from Pontedera?'

      "'Ah, well, that was Peppino.'

      "'Then where is Peppino?'

      "'He is on his road home. Yes, your excellence. You see it was the fête of the Madonna, and we danced and drank together—I and Peppino—all the night; and this morning about an hour ago says he to me, 'Gaetano, do you take your horses, and go find two travellers and a servant who are under a coach-house at the Croix d'Or; all is paid except the buona-mano.' And I asked him, your excellence, how it happened that travellers were sleeping in a coach-house instead of in a chamber. 'Oh,' said he, 'they are English—they are afraid of not having clean sheets, and so they prefer to sleep in their carriage in the coach-house.' Now as I know the English are a nation of originals, I supposed it was all right, and so I emptied another flask, and got my horses, and here I am. If I am too early I will return, and come by and by.

      "'No, no, in the devil's name,' said the prince, 'harness your beasts, and do not lose a moment. There is a piastre for your buona-mano.'

      "They were soon at Florence.

      "The first care of the prince, after having breakfasted, for neither he nor the princess had eaten any thing since they had left Livorno, was to lay his complaint before a magistrate.

      "'Where is the paper?' said the judicial authority.

      "'I have none,' said the prince.

      "'Then I counsel you,' replied the judge, 'to let the matter drop. Only the next time give five piastres to the master, and a piastre and a half to the driver; you will save five piastres and a half, and arrive eighteen hours sooner.'"—P. 97.

      M. Dumas, however, arrives at Florence without any such disagreeable adventure as sleeping in a coach-house. He gives a pleasing description of the Florentine people, amongst whom the spirit of commerce has died away, but left behind a considerable share of the wealth and luxury that sprang from it. There is little spirit of enterprise; no rivalry between a class enriching itself and the class with whom wealth is hereditary; the jewels that were purchased under the reign of the Medici still shine without competitors on the promenade and at the opera. It is a people that has made its fortune, and lives contentedly on its revenues, and on what it gets from the stranger. "The first want of a Florentine," says our author, "is repose; even pleasure is secondary; it costs him some little effort to be amused. Wearied of its frequent political convulsions, the town of the Medici aspires only to that unbroken and enchanted slumber which fell, as the fairy tale informs us, on the beautiful lady in the sleepy wood. No one here seems to labour, except those who are tolling and ringing the church-bells, and they indeed appear to have rest neither day nor night."

      There are but three classes visible in Florence. The nobility—the foreigner—and the people. The nobility, a few princely houses excepted, spend but little, the people work but little, and it would be a marvel how these last lived if it were not for the foreigner. Every autumn brings them their harvest

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