At the upper end is a platform, with a large horse-shoe
table upon it; and a President and Council sitting round--all
judges of the Law. The man on the little stool behind the
President, is the Capo Lazzarone, a kind of tribune of the people,
appointed on their behalf to see that all is fairly conducted:
attended by a few personal friends. A ragged, swarthy fellow he
is: with long matted hair hanging down all over his face: and
covered, from head to foot, with most unquestionably genuine dirt.
All the body of the room is filled with the commonest of the
Neapolitan people: and between them and the platform, guarding the
steps leading to the latter, is a small body of soldiers.
There is some delay in the arrival of the necessary number of
judges; during which, the box, in which the numbers are being
placed, is a source of the deepest interest. When the box is full,
the boy who is to draw the numbers out of it becomes the prominent
feature of the proceedings. He is already dressed for his part, in
a tight brown Holland coat, with only one (the left) sleeve to it,
which leaves his right arm bared to the shoulder, ready for
plunging down into the mysterious chest.
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