possession of the English having terminated three or four years earlier; and Raoul felt certain of a welcome anywhere in the island and of protection wherever it could be offered.  Such was the state of things when, just as the lugger was preparing to enter among the shoals, the Proserpine unexpectedly tacked and seemed to bestow all her attention on the coasters, of which three or four were so near that two fell into her hands almost without an effort to escape.

It appeared to Raoul and those with him in his little craft that the English seized these insignificant vessels solely with a wish for vengeance, since it was not usual for ships of the force of the Proserpine to turn aside to molest the poor fishermen and coasters.  A few execrations followed, quite as a matter of course, but the intricacy of the channel and the necessity of having all his eyes about him soon drove every other thought from the mind of the dashing privateersman but such as were connected with the care and safety of his own vessel.

Just as the sun set le Feu-Follet anchored.  She had chosen a berth sufficiently within the shallow water to be safe from the guns of the frigate, though scarcely within the river.  The latter the depth of the stream hardly permitted, though there was all the shelter that the season and weather required.  The Proserpine manifested no intention to give up her pursuit; for she, too, came off the outlet and brought up with one of her bowers about two miles to seaward of the lugger.  She seemed to have changed her mind as to the coasters, having let both proceed after a short detention, though, it falling calm, neither was enabled to get any material distance from her until the land-breeze should rise.  In these positions the belligerents prepared to pass the night, each party taking the customary precautions as to his ground tackle, and each clearing up the decks and going through the common routine of duty as regularly as if he lay in a friendly port.

CHAPTER XI.

     “The human mind, that lofty thing,
       The palace and the throne,
     Where reason sits, a sceptred king,
       And breathes his judgment tone;
     Oh!  I who with silent step shall trace
     The borders of that haunted place,
       Nor in his weakness own,
     That mystery and marvel bind
     That lofty thing—­the human mind!”

     ANONYMOUS.

It is unnecessary to dwell on the glories of the Mediterranean.  They are familiar to every traveler, and books have again and again laid them before the imaginations of readers of all countries and ages.  Still, there are lights and shades peculiar to every picture, and this of ours has some of its own that merit a passing notice.  A sunset, in midsummer, can add to the graces of almost any scene.  Such was the hour when Raoul anchored; and Ghita, who had come on deck, now that the chase was over and the danger was thought to be past, fancied she had never seen her own Italy or the blue Mediterranean more lovely.