“Bon giorno, Signor Vice-governatore,” commenced Raoul, in his gay, easy, and courteous manner, and certainly with an air that betrayed any feeling but those of apprehension and guilt; “we have a fine morning on the land, here; and apparently a fine frigate of the French republic in the offing yonder.”

“We were conversing of that vessel, Signor Smees,” answered Andrea, “as you approached.  What, in your judgment, c an induce a Frenchman to appear before our town in so menacing a manner?”

“Cospetto! you might as well ask me, Signore, what induces these republicans to do a thousand other out-of-the-way things.  What has made them behead Louis XVI?  What has made them overrun half of your Italy, conquer Egypt, and drive the Austrians back upon their Danube?”

“To say nothing of their letting Nelsoni destroy them at Aboukir,” added Vito Viti, with a grunt.

“True, Signore, or letting Nelson, my gallant countryman, annihilate them near the mouth of the Nile.  I did not consider it proper to boast of English glory, though that case, too, may very well be included.  We have several men in ze Ving-and-Ving who were in that glorious battle, particularly our sailing-master, Etooell Bolt, who was on board Nelson’s own ship, having been accidentally sent on service from the frigate to which he properly belonged, and carried off expressly to share, as it might be, in the glory of this famous battle.”

“I have seen the Signore,” dryly remarked Andrea Barrofaldi—­“e uno Americano?”

“An American!” exclaimed Raoul, starting a little in spite of his assumed indifference of manner; “why, yes, I believe Bolt was born in America—­English America, you know, Signori, and that is much the same thing as having been born in England herself.  We look upon ze Yankes as but a part of our own people, and take them into our service most cheerfully.”

“So the Signor Ituello has given us reason to believe; he is seemingly a great lover of the English nation.”

Raoul was uneasy; for he was entirely ignorant of all that had passed in the wine-house, and he thought he detected irony in the manner of the vice-governatore.

“Certainly, Signore,” he answered, however, with unmoved steadiness; “certainly, Signore, the Americani adore Inghilterra; and well they may, considering all that great nation has done for them.  But, Signor Vice-governatore, I have come to offer you the service of my lugger, should this Frenchman really intend mischief.  We are small, it is true, and our guns are but light; nevertheless we may break the frigate’s cabin-windows, while you are doing him still greater injury from these heights.  I trust you will assign ze Ving-and-Ving some honorable station, should you come to blows with the republicans.”

“And what particular service would it be most agreeable to you to undertake, Signore?” inquired the vice-governatore, with considerate courtesy; “we are no mariners, and must leave the choice to yourself.  The colonello, here, expects some firing, and has his artillerists already at their guns.”