“We lose the moments in words, when it were far better to be doing,” returned the Signore Grimaldi.  “The pass is luckily in the language of the country, and needs but a glance to get the approval of the authorities.  Thou wilt do well to say thou canst remain the time necessary to see this little done.”

“Were your excellency to offer me the Doge’s crown as a bribe, this could not be.  Our Leman winds will not wait for king or noble, bishop or priest, and duty to those I have in the bark commands me to quit the port as soon as possible.”

“Thou art truly well charged with living freight already,” said the Genoese, regarding the deeply loaded bark with a half-distrustful eye ’I hope thou hast not overdone thy vessel’s powers in receiving so many?”

“I could gladly reduce the number a little, excellent Signore, for all that you see piled among the boxes and tubs are no better than so many knaves, fit only to give trouble and raise questions touching the embarkation of those who are willing to pay better than themselves.  The noble Swiss, whom you see seated near the stern, with his daughter and people, the worthy Melchior de Willading, gives a more liberal reward for his passage to Vevey than all those nameless rogues together.”

The Genoese made a hasty movement towards the patron, with an earnestness of eye and air that betrayed a sudden and singular interest in what he heard.

“Did’st thou say de Willading?” he exclaimed, eager as one of much fewer years would have been at the unexpected announcement of some pleasurable event.  “Melchior, too, of that honorable name?”

“Signore, the same.  None other bears the title now, for the old line, they say, is drawing to an end.  I remember this same baron, when he was as ready to launch his boat into a troubled lake, as any in Switzerland—­”

“Fortune hath truly favored me, good Marcelli!” interrupted the other, grasping the hand of his companion, with strong feeling.  “Go thou to the bark, master patron, and advise thy passenger that—­what shall we say to Melchior?  Shall we tell him at once, who waits him here, or shall we practise a little on his failing memory?  By San Francesco! we will do this, Enrico, that we may try his powers!  ’Twill be pleasant to see him wonder and guess—­my life on it, however, that he knows me at a glance.  I am truly little changed for one that hath seen so much.”

The Signor Marcelli lowered his eyes respectfully at this opinion of his friend, but he did not see fit to discourage a belief which was merely a sudden ebullition, produced by the recollection of younger days.  Baptiste was instantly dispatched with a request that the baron would do a stranger of rank the favor to come to the water-gate.

“Tell him ’tis a traveller disappointed in the wish to be of his company,” repeated the Genoese.  “That will suffice.  I know him courteous, and he is not my Melchior, honest Marcelli, if he delay an instant:—­thou seest! he is already quitting the bark, for never did I know him refuse an act of friendliness—­dear, dear Melchior—­thou art the same at seventy as thou wast at thirty!”