“Is this the being, Nelson, who comes with such a petition?” she demanded, with a touch of natural womanly sensibility in her voice; “and that poor old man, I dare say, is the heart-stricken father.”

“As to the errand, you will remember, I know nothing as yet, and pledge myself to nothing.”

“Captain Cuffe, I hope I have the pleasure to see you well.  Sir William joins the admiral in hoping you will make one of our little family party to-day at dinner, and—­”

“And what says the mistress—­not of the house, but of the ship?” put in Nelson, whose eyes had scarce turned an instant from the face of the siren since she entered the fore-cabin.

“That she—­always disclaiming the title, honorable though it be—­that she unites with all the rest in inviting Captain Cuffe to honor us with his company.  Nelson tells me you were one of his old Agamemnons, as he calls you all, aged and young, men and boys, little and big; and I love even the sound of the name.  What a glorious title for a ship—­ Agamemnon!—­A Greek, led on by a true English heart!”

“Aye, it is somewhat better than ‘That’ll Do,’ and the other affair, ha!  Cuffe!” returned the admiral, smiling and glancing at his subordinate; “but all this time we are ignorant of the errand of this honest-looking Italian and his exceedingly innocent-looking companion.”

“Well, then, in this matter, gentlemen, I am only to be regarded as a mere mouthpiece,” put in the lady—­“an echo, to repeat what reaches mine ear, though it be an Irish echo, which repeats in a different tongue from that in which the sounds first reach it.  Put your questions, my lord; they shall be faithfully rendered, with all the answers that may be given.  I only hope Captain Cuffe will come out of this affair as innocent as he now looks.”

The two gentlemen smiled; but the trifling could not disturb its subject, as he was profoundly ignorant of the existence of the two strangers five minutes before; while the boldness of the allusion rather suited the freedom of a ship and the habits of the part of the world in which they happened to be.

“We will first inquire the name of this worthy man, if you will condescend to ask it,” observed Nelson to his fair friend.

“Carlo Giuntotardi, noble lady—­once a poor scholar, in Napoli, here, and now a keeper of the prince’s watch-towers on the heights of Argentaro,” was the quiet but respectful answer of the man, who, like his niece, had declined taking a seat, a circumstance that left the whole party standing.  “Carlo Giuntotardi, illustrious lady.”

“A very good name, Signore, and one of which you have no need to be ashamed.  And thine?” turning to the girl.

“Ghita Caraccioli, Eccellenza; the sister’s daughter of this honest tower-keeper of the prince.”

Had a bomb exploded over the Foudroyant, Nelson certainly would not have been as much startled; while the lady’s beautiful face assumed a look of dark resentment, not unmingled with fear.  Even Cuffe understood enough of the sounds to catch the name, and he advanced a step with lively curiosity and an anxious concern expressed on his ruddy face.  But these emotions soon subsided, the lady first regaining her self-possession, though Nelson paced the cabin five or six times, working the stump of his arm before he even looked up again.