As he uttered this opinion, Maso decorously raised his cap, and pursued his straitened walk with the industry of a caged tiger.  It was so unusual for one of his condition to obtrude on the discourse of the fair and noble, that the party exchanged looks of surprise; but, the Signor Grirnaldi, more accustomed than most of his friends to the frank deportment and bold speech of mariners, from having dwelt long on the coast of the Mediterranean, felt disposed rather to humor than to repulse this disposition to talk.

“Thou art a Genoese, by thy dialect,” he said, assuming as a matter of course the right to question one of years so much fewer, and of a condition so much inferior to his own.

“Signore,” returned Maso, uncovering himself again, though his manner betrayed profound personal respect rather than the deference of the vulgar, “I was born in the city of palaces, though it was my fortune first to see the light beneath a humble roof.  The poorest of us are proud of the splendor of Genova la Superba, even if its glory has come from our own groans.”

The Signor Grimaldi frowned.  But, ashamed to permit himself to be disturbed by an allusion so vague, and perhaps so unpremeditated, and more especially coming as it did from so insignificant a source, his brow regained its expression of habitual composure.

An instant of reflection, told him it would be in better taste to continue the conversation, than churlishly to cut it short for so light a cause.

“Thou art too young to have had much connexion, either in advantage or in suffering,” he rejoined, “with the erection of the gorgeous dwellings to which thou alludest.”

“This is true, Signore; except as one is the better or worse for those who have gone before him.  I am what I seem, more by the acts of others than by any faults of my own.  I envy not the rich or great, however; for one that has seen as much of life as I, knows the difference between the gay colors of the garment, and that of the shrivelled and diseased skin it conceals.  We make our feluccas glittering and fine with paint, when their timbers work the most, and when the treacherous planks are ready to let in the sea to drown us.”

“Thou hast the philosophy of it, young man, and hast uttered a biting truth, for those who waste their prime in chasing a phantom.  Thou hast well bethought thee of these matters, for, if content with thy lot, no palace of our city would make thee happier.”

“If, Signore, is a meaning word!—­Content is like the north-star—­we seamen steer for it, while none can ever reach it!”

“Am I then deceived in thee, after all?  Is thy seeming moderation only affected; and would’st thou be the patron of the bark in which fortune hath made thee only a passenger?”

“And a bad fortune it hath proved,” returned Maso, laughing.  “We appear fated to pass the night in it, for, so far from seeing any signs of this land-breeze of which Baptiste has so confidently spoken, the air seems to have gone to sleep as well as the crew.  Thou art accustomed to this climate, reverend Augustine; is it usual to see so deep a calm on the Leman at this late season?”