“All this I heard at the time, Signore, and my uncle probably could tell you more—­how we all felt at the tidings!”

“Well, that is all over now, and the French are in Egypt.  Your uncle, Ghita, has gone upon the main, I hear?” this was said inquiringly, and it was intended to be said carelessly; but the podesta could not prevent a glance of suspicion from accompanying the question.

“Signore, I believe he has, but I know little of his affairs.  The time has come, however, when I ought to expect him.  See, Eccellenza,” a title that never failed to mollify the magistrate, and turn his attention from others entirely to himself, “the lugger really appears disposed to look into your bay, if not actually to enter it!”

This sufficed to change the discourse.  Nor was it said altogether without reason; the lugger, which by this time had passed the western promontory, actually appearing disposed to do as Ghita conjectured.  She jibed her mainsail—­brought both sheets of canvas on her larboard side, and luffed a little, so as to cause her head to look toward the opposite side of the bay, instead of standing on, as before, in the direction of the canal.  This change in the lugger’s course produced a general movement in the crowd, which began to quit the heights, hastening to descend the terraced streets, in order to reach the haven.  ’Maso and the podesta led the van, in this descent; and the girls, with Ghita in their midst, followed with equal curiosity, but with eager steps.  By the time the throng was assembled on the quays, in the streets, on the decks of feluccas, or at other points that commanded the view, the stranger was seen gliding past, in the centre of the wide and deep bay, with his jigger hauled out, and his sheets aft, looking up nearly into the wind’s eye, if that could be called wind which was still little more than the sighing of the classical zephyr.  His motion was necessarily slow, but it continued light, easy, and graceful.  After passing the entrance of the port a mile or more, he tacked and looked up toward the haven.  By this time, however, he had got so near in to the western cliffs, that their lee deprived him of all air; and, after keeping his canvas open half an hour in the little roads, it was all suddenly drawn to the yards, and the lugger anchored.

CHAPTER II.

     “His stock, a few French phrases, got by heart,
     With much to learn, but nothing to impart;
     The youth, obedient to his sire’s commands,
     Sets off a wanderer into foreign lands.”

     COWPER