“And is Melchior de Willading to pass for nothing, in all this!” exclaimed the Baron; “put up thy gold, Gaetano, and leave me to satisfy the honest mariner for the present.  At a later day, he can come to thee, in Italy:  but here, on my own ground, I claim the right to be his banker.”

“Signore,” returned Maso, earnestly and with more of gentle feeling than he was accustomed to betray, “you are both liberal beyond my desires, and but too well disposed for my poor wants.  I have come up to the castle at your order, and to do you pleasure, but not in the hope to get money.  I am poor; that it would be useless to deny, for appearances are against me—­” here he laughed, his auditors thought in a manner that was forced—­“but poverty and meanness are not always inseparable.  You have more than suspected to-day that my life is free, and I admit it; but it is a mistake to believe that, because men quit the high-road which some call honesty, in any particular practice, they are without human feeling.  I have been useful in saving your lives, Signori, and there is more pleasure in the reflection, than I should find in having the means to earn twice the gold ye offer.  Here is the Signor Capitano,” he added, taking Sigismund by the arm, and dragging him forward, “lavish your favors on him, for no practice of mine could have been of use without his bravery.  If ye give him all in your treasuries, even to its richest pearl, ye will do no more than reason.”

As Maso ceased, he cast a glance towards the attentive, breathless Adelheid, that continued to utter his meaning even after the tongue was silent The bright suffusion that covered the maiden’s face was visible even by the pale moonlight, and Sigismund shrunk back from his rude grasp in the manner in which the guilty retire from notice.

“These opinions are creditable to thee, Maso,” returned the Genoese, affecting not to understand his more particular meaning, “and they excite a stronger wish to be thy friend.  I will say no more on the subject at present, for I see thy humor.  Thou wilt let me see thee at Genoa?”

The expression of Maso’s countenance was inexplicable, but he retained his usual indifference of manner.

“Signor Gaetano,” he said, using a mariner’s freedom in the address, “there are nobles in Genoa that might better knock at the door of your palace than I; and there are those, too, in the city that would gossip, were it known that you received such guests.”

“This is tying thyself too closely to an evil and a dangerous trade.  I suspect thee to be of the contraband, but surely it is not a pursuit so free from danger, of so much repute, or, judging by thy attire, of so much profit even, that thou needest be wedded to it for life.  Means can be found to relieve thee from its odium, by giving thee a place in those customs with which thou hast so often trifled.”

Maso laughed outright.