It, and Other Stories Part 42

They looked blank.

"Doubtless," said the banker, "you have been taught by your priests to believe that the great church of St. Peter, in Rome, is the actual centre of the universe. Is it not so?"

They a.s.sented, not without wonder, since the fact was well known.

"Recent geographers," said Asabri, "unwilling to take any statement for granted, have, after prolonged and scientific investigation, discovered that this idea is hocus pocus. The centre of the universe is in the United States, in the city of New York, in Wall Street. The number in the street, to be precise, is fifty-nine. From fifty-nine Wall Street, the word goes out to the extremities of the world: 'Let prices be low.'

Or: 'Let them be high.' And so they become, according to the word. But unless I can find five thousand lire with which to take advantage of this fact, why to-morrow----"

"To-morrow?" asked the brigand who had been first to smile.

"Two months ago," said Asabri, "I was perhaps the most envied man in Italy. To-morrow I shall be laughed at." He shrugged his powerful shoulders.

"But if five thousand lire could be found?"

It was the sullen brigand who spoke, and his companions eyed him with some misgiving.

"In that case," said Asabri, "I should rehabilitate my fortune and that of the man, or men, who came to my a.s.sistance."

"Suppose," said the sullen one, "that I were in a position to offer you the loan of five thousand lire, or four thousand eight hundred and ninety-two, to be exact, what surety should I receive that my fortunes and those of my a.s.sociates would be mended thereby?"

"My word," said Asabri simply, and he turned his face of a Roman emperor and looked the sullen brigand directly in the eye.

"Words," said this one, although his eyes fell before the steadiness of the banker's, "are of all kinds and conditions, according to whoso gives them."

Asabri smiled, and sure of his notoriety: "I am Asabri," said he.

They examined him anew with a great awe. The youngest said:

"And _you_ have fallen upon evil days! I should have been less astonished if some one were to tell me that the late pope had received employment in h.e.l.l."

"Beppo," said the sullen brigand, "whatever the state of his fortunes, the word of Asabri is sufficient. Go into the tomb of Attulius and fetch out the money."

The money--silver, copper, and notes of small denominations--was in a dirty leather bag.

"Will you count it, sir?"

With the palms of his hands Asabri answered that he would not. Inwardly, it was as if he had been made of smiles; but he showed them a stern countenance when he said:

"One thing! Before I touch this money, is there blood on it?"

"High hands only," said the sullen brigand; but the youngest protested.

"Indeed, yes," he said, "there is blood upon it. Look, see, and behold!"

He bared a breast on which the skin was fine and satiny like a woman's, and they saw in the firelight the cicatrice of a newly healed wound.

"A few drops of mine," he said proudly. "May they bring the money luck."

"One thing more," said Asabri; "I have said that I will mend your fortunes. What sum apiece would make you comfortable for the rest of your days and teach you to see the evil in your present manner of life?"

"If the money were to be doubled," said the sullen brigand, "then each of us could have what he most desires."

"And what is that?" asked the banker.

"For me," said the sullen brigand, "there is a certain piece of land upon which are grapes, figs, and olives."

The second brigand said: "I am a waterman by birth and by longing. If I could purchase a certain barge upon which I have long had an eye, I should do well and honestly in the world, and happily."

"And you? What do you want?" Asabri smiled paternally in the face of the youngest brigand.

This one showed his beautiful teeth a moment, and drew the rags together over his scarred breast.

"I am nineteen years of age," he said, and his eyes glistened. "There is a girl, sir, in my village. Her eyes are like velvet; her skin is smooth as custard. She is very beautiful. If I could go to her father with a certain sum of money, he would not ask where I had gotten it--that is why I have robbed on the highway. He would merely stretch forth his hands and roll his fat eyes heavenward, and say: 'Bless you, my children.'"

"But the girl," said Asabri.

"It is wonderful," said the youngest brigand, "how she loves me. And when I told her that I was going upon the road to earn the moneys necessary for our happiness, she said that she would climb down from her window at night and come with me. But," he concluded unctuously, "I pointed out to her that from sin springs nothing but unhappiness."

"We formed a fellows.h.i.+p, we three," said the second brigand, "and swore an oath: to take from the world so much as would make us happy, and no more."

"My friends," said Asabri, "there are worse brigands than yourselves living in palaces."

The fog had lifted, and it was beginning to grow light. Asabri gathered up the heavy bag of money and prepared to depart.

"How long," said the sullen brigand, "with all respect, before your own fortunes will be mended, sir, and ours?"

"You are quite sure you know nothing of stocks?"

"Nothing, excellency."

"Then listen. They shall be mended to-day. To-morrow come to my bank----"

"Oh, sir, we dare not show our faces in Rome."

"Very well, then; to-morrow at ten sharp I shall leave Rome in a motor-car. Watch for me along the Appian Way."

He shook them by their brown, grimy hands, mounted the impatient Biddy, and was gone--blissfully smiling.

Upon reaching Rome he rode to his palace and a.s.sured Luigi the valet that all was well. Then he bathed, changed, breakfasted, napped, and drove to the hospital of Our Lady in Emergencies. He saw the superior and gave her the leather bag containing the brigands' savings.

"For my sins," he said. "I have told lies half the night."

Then he drove to his great banking house and sent for the cas.h.i.+er.

"Make me up," said he, "three portable parcels of fifty thousand lire each."

The next day at ten he left Rome in a black and beauteous motor-car, and drove slowly along the Appian Way. He had left his mechanic behind, and was prepared to renew his tires and his youth. Packed away, he had luncheon and champagne enough for four; and he had not forgotten to bring along the three parcels of money.