Book The First - Chapter 4 The Daggers

Abellino, this Italian Hercules, all terrible as he appeared to be,
was not long a member of this society before his companions felt
towards him sentiments of the most unbounded esteem. All loved, all
valued him, for his extraordinary talents for a bravo's trade, to
which he seemed peculiarly adapted, not only by his wonderful
strength of body, but by the readiness of his wit, and his never-
failing presence of mind. Even Cinthia was inclined to feel some
little affection for him, but--he really was too ugly.

Matteo, as Abellino was soon given to understand, was the captain of
this dangerous troop. He was one who carried villainy to the
highest pitch of refinement, incapable of fear, quick and crafty,
and troubled with less conscience than a French financier. The
booty and price of blood, which his associates brought in daily,
were always delivered up to him: he gave each man his share, and
retained no larger portion for himself than was allotted to the
others. The catalogue of those whom he had despatched into the
other world was already too long for him to have repeated it: many
names had slipped his memory, but his greatest pleasure in his hour
of relaxation was to relate such of these murderous anecdotes as he
still remembered, in the benevolent intention of inspiring his
hearers with a desire to follow his example. His weapons were kept
separate from the rest, and occupied a whole apartment. Here were
to be found daggers of a thousand different fashions, WITH guards
and WITHOUT them; two, three, and four-edged. Here were stored air-
guns, pistols, and blunderbusses; poisons of various kinds and
operating in various ways; garments fit for every possible disguise,
whether to personate the monk, the Jew, or the mendicant; the
soldier, the sailor, or the gondolier.