CHAPTER VI. Are all prepared? They are - nay more - embark'd; the latest boat My sword and my capote. The Corsair. WHAT success attended the artifice of Ithuel it was impossible to tell, so far as the frigate was concerned; though the appearance of mutual intelligence between the two vessels had a very favourable tendency towards removing suspicion from the lugger among those on shore. It seemed so utterly improbable that a French corsair could answer the signals of an English frigate, that even Vito Viti felt compelled to acknowledge to the vice-governor, in a whisper, that, so far, the circumstance was much in favour of the lugger's loyalty. Then the calm exterior of Raoul counted for something, more especially as he remained, apparently, an unconcerned observer of the rapid approach of the ship. "We shall not have occasion to use your gallant offer, Signor Smees," said Andrea, kindly, as he was about to retire into the house with one or two of his counsellors; "but we thank you none the less. It is a happiness to be honoured with the visit of two cruisers of your great nation on the same day, and I hope you will so far favour me as to accompany your brother commander, when he shall do me the honour to pay the customary visit, since it would seem to be his serious intention to pay Porto Ferrajo the compliment of a call. Can you not guess at the name of the frigate?" "Now I see she is a countryman I think I can, Signore," answered Raoul, carelessly; "I take her to be La Proserpine, a French-built ship, a circumstance which first deceived me as to her character." "And the noble cavaliere, her commander - you doubtless know his name and rank?" "Oh! perfectly; he is the son of an old admiral, under whom I was educated, though we happen ourselves never to have met. Sir Brown is the name and title of the gentleman." "Ah! that is a truly English rank and name, too, as one might say. Often have I met that honourable appellation in Shakspeare, and other of your eminent authors. Miltoni has a Sir Brown, if I am not mistaken, Signore?" "Several of them, Signor Vice-governatore," answered Raoul, without a moment's hesitation or the smallest remorse; though he had no idea whatever who Milton was; "Milton, Shakspeare, Cicero, and all our great writers, often mention Signori of this family." "Cicero!" repeated Andrea, in astonishment; "he was a Roman, and an ancient, capitano, and died before Inghilterra was known to the civilized world." Raoul perceived that he had reached too far, though he was not in absolute danger of losing his balance. Smiling, as in consideration of the other's provincial view of things, he rejoined, with an à-plomb that would have done credit to a politician, in an explanatory and half-apologetic tone. "Quite true, Signor Vice-governatore, as respects him you mention," he said; "but not true as respects Sir Cicero, my illustrious compatriot. Let me see - I do not think it is yet a century since our Cicero died. He was born in Devonshire," this was the county in which Raoul had been imprisoned must have died in Dublin. Sì - now I remember, it was in Dublin that this virtuous and distinguished author yielded up his breath." "and To all this Andrea had nothing to say; for, half a century since, so great was the ignorance of civilized nations as related to such things, that one might have engrafted a Homer on the literature of England, in particular, without much risk of having the imposition detected. Signor Barrofaldi was not pleased to find that the barbarians were seizing on the Italian names, it is true; but he was fain to set the circumstance down to those very traces of barbarism, which were the unavoidable fruits of their origin. As for supposing it possible that one who spoke with the ease and innocence of Raoul, was inventing as he went along, it was an idea he was himself much too unpractised to entertain; and the very first thing he did on entering the palace, was to make a memorandum which might lead him, at a leisure moment, to inquire into the nature of the writings, and the general merits of Sir Cicero, the illustrious namesake of him of Rome. As soon as this little digression terminated, he entered the palace, after again expressing the hope that "Sir Smees" would not fail to accompany "Sir Brown," in the visit which the functionary fully expected to receive from the latter in the course of the next hour or two. The company now began to disperse, and Raoul was soon left to his own meditations; which, just at that moment, were anything but agreeable. The town of Porto Ferrajo is so shut in from the sea by the rock against which it is built, its fortifications, and the construction of its own little port, as to render the approach of a vessel invisible to its inhabitants, unless they choose to ascend to the heights, and the narrow promenade already mentioned. This circumstance had drawn a large crowd upon the hill, again; among which Raoul Yvard now threaded his way, wearing his sea cap and his assumed naval uniform, in a smart, affected manner, for he was fully sensible of all the advantages he possessed on the score of personal appearance. His unsettled eye, however, wandered from one pretty face to another in quest of Ghita, who alone was the object of his search, and the true cause of the awkward predicament into which he had brought not only himself, but Le Feu-Follet. In this manner, now thinking of her he sought, and then reverting to his situation in an enemy's port, he walked along the whole line of the cliff, scarcely knowing whether to return or to seek his boat by doubling on the town, when he heard his own name pronounced in a sweet voice, which went directly to his heart. Turning on his heel, Ghita was within a few feet of him. "Salute me distantly, and as a stranger," said the girl, in almost breathless haste, "and point to the different streets as if enquiring your way through the town. This is the place where we met last evening; but, remember, it is no longer dark." As Raoul complied with her desire, any distant spectator might well have fancied the meeting accidental, though he poured forth a flood of expressions of love and admiration. "Enough, Raoul," said the girl, blushing, and dropping her eyes, though no displeasure was visible on her serene and placid face; "another time I might indulge you. How much worse is your situation now than it was last night! Then you had only the port to fear; now you have both the people of the port and this strange ship - an Inglese, as they tell me!" "No doubt La Proserpine, Etooell says, and he knows. You remember Etooell, dearest Ghita, the American who was with me at the tower? - well, he has served in this very ship, and knows her to be La Proserpine, of fourty-four." Raoul paused a moment; then he added, laughing in a way to surprise his companion - "Oui - La Proserpine, le Capitaine Sir Brown!" "What you can find to amuse you in all this, Raoul, is more than I can discover. Sir Brown, or Sir any-body-else, will send you again to those evil English prison-ships of which you have so often told me; and there is surely nothing pleasant in that idea." "Bah! my sweet Ghita, Sir Brown, or Sir White, or Sir Black, has not yet got me. I am not a child to tumble into the fire because the leading-strings are off; and Le Feu-Follet shines, or goes out exactly as it suits her purposes. The frigate, ten to one, will just run close in, and take a near look, and then square away and go to Livorno, where there is much more to amuse her officers than here, in Porto Ferrajo. This Sir Brown has his Ghita as well as Raoul Yvard." "No, not a Ghita, I fear, Raoul," answered the girl, smiling, spite of herself, while her colour almost insensibly deepened "Livorno has few ignorant country girls like me, who have been educated in a lone watch-tower on the coast." "Ghita," answered Raoul, with feeling, "that poor lone watch-tower of thine might well be envied by many a noble dame at Roma and at Napoli; for it has left thee innocent and pure gem that gay capitals seldom contain; or, if found there, not in its native beauty, which they sully by use." a "What know'st thou, Raoul, of Roma and Napoli, and of noble dames and rich gems?" asked the girl, smiling, the tenderness which had filled her heart at that moment betraying itself in her eyes. "What do I know of such things, truly! why, I have been at both places, and have seen what I describe. I went to Roma on purpose to see the Holy Father, in order to make certain whether The Jack O'Lantern, 6 our French opinions of his character and infallibility were true, or not, before I set up in religion for myself." "And thou didst find him holy and venerable, Raoul," interposed the girl, with earnestness and energy, for this was the great point of separation between them "I know thou found'st him thus, and worthy to be the head of an ancient and true Church. My eyes never beheld him; but this do I know to be true." Raoul was aware that the laxity of his religious opinions - opinions that he may be said to have inherited from his country, as it then existed morally - alone prevented Ghita from casting aside all other ties, and following his fortunes in weal and in woe. Still he was too frank and generous to deceive, while he had ever been too considerate to strive to unsettle her confiding and consoling faith. Her infirmity even, for so he deemed her notions to be, had a charm in his eyes; few men, however loose or sceptical in their own opinions on such matters, finding any pleasure in the contemplation of a female infidel; and he had never looked more fondly into her anxious but lovely face than he did at this very instant, making his reply with a truth which bordered on magnanimity. "Thou art my religion, Ghita!" he said; "in thee I worship purity, and holiness, and -" "Nay - nay, Raoul, do not refrain; if thou really lov'st me utter not this frightful blasphemy; tell me, rather, if thou didst not find the Holy Father as I describe him?" "I found him a peaceful, venerable, and I firmly believe a good old mau, Ghita; but only a man. No infallibility could I see about him; but a set of roguish cardinals, and other plotters of mischief, who were much better calculated to set Christians by the ears than to lead them to Heaven, surrounded his chair." "Say no more, Raoul - I will listen to no more of this. Thou knowest not these sainted men, and thy tongue is thine own enemy, without - hark! what means that?" "'T is a gun from the frigate, and must be looked to; say, when und where do we meet again?" "I know not, now. We have been too long, much too long, together, as it is; and must separate. Trust to me to provide the |