“Thou hast changed thine opinion greatly, neighbor Vito,” answered the vice-governatore, somewhat dryly, for he was far from being satisfied on the subject of Sir Cicero and on those of certain other circumstances in English history and politics; “it better becomes magistrates to be cautious and wary.”

“Well, if there be a more cautious and circumspect man in Elba than the poor podesta of the Porto Ferrajo, let him stand forth, o’ God’s name, and prove his deeds!  I do not esteem myself, Signor Vice-governatore, as the idlest or as the most ignorant man in the Grand Duke’s territories.  There may be wiser, among whom I place your eccellenza; but there is not a more loyal subject or a more zealous friend of truth.”

“I believe it, good Vito,” returned Andrea, smiling kindly on his old associate, “and have ever so considered thy advice and services.  Still, I wish I knew something of this Sir Cicero; for, to be frank with thee, I have even foregone my siesta in searching the books in quest of such a man.”

“And do they not confirm every syllable the Signor Smees has said?”

“So far from it, that I do not even find the name.  It is true, several distinguished orators of that nation are styled English Ciceroes; but then all people do this, by way of commendation.”

“I do not know that, Signore—­I do not know that—­it may happen in our Italy; but would it come to pass, think you, among remote and so lately barbarous nations as England, Germany, and France?”

“Thou forgettest, friend Vito,” returned the vice-governatore, smiling now, in pity of his companion’s ignorance and prejudices, as just before he had smiled in kindness, “that we Italians took the pains to civilize these people a thousand years ago, and that they have not gone backward all this time.  But there can be no doubt that ‘ze Ving-y-Ving’ means to enter our bay again, and there stands the ‘Signor Smees’ examining us with a glass, as if he, too, contemplated another interview.”

“It strikes me, Vice-governatore, that it would be a sin next to heresy to doubt the character of those who so loyally put their trust in us.  No republican would dare to anchor in the bay of Porto Ferrajo a second time. Once it might possibly be done; but twice?—­no, never, never.”

“I do not know but you are right, Vito, and I am sure I hope so.  Will you descend to the port and see that the forms are complied with?  Then glean such useful circumstances as you can.”

The crowd was now in motion toward the lower part of the town to meet the lugger; and at this suggestion the podesta hurried down in the throng, to be in readiness to receive the “Signor Smees” as soon as he should land.  It was thought more dignified and proper for the vice-governatore to remain, and await to hear the report of the supposed English officer where he was.  Ghita was one of the few also who remained on the heights, her heart now beating with renewed apprehensions of the dangers that her lover had again braved on her account, and now nearly overflowing with tenderness, as she admitted the agreeable conviction that, had she not been in Porto Ferrajo, Raoul Yvard would never have incurred such risks.