Ghita delle Torri, or Ghita of the Towers, as the girl was ordinarily termed by those who knew her, from a circumstance in her situation that will appear as we advance in the tale, or Ghita Caraccioli, as was her real name, had been an orphan from infancy.  She had imbibed a strength of character and a self-reliance from her condition, that might otherwise have been wanting in one so young, and of a native disposition so truly gentle.  An aunt had impressed on her mind the lessons of female decorum; and her uncle, who had abandoned the world on account of a strong religious sentiment, had aided in making her deeply devout and keenly conscientious.  The truth of her character rendered her indisposed to the deception which Raoul was practising, while feminine weakness inclined her to forgive the offence in the motive.  She had shuddered again and again, as she remembered how deeply the young sailor was becoming involved in frauds,—­and frauds, too, that might so easily terminate in violence and bloodshed; and then she had trembled under the influence of a gentler emotion as she remembered that all these risks were run for her.  Her reason had long since admonished her that Raoul Yvard and Ghita Caraccioli ought to be strangers to each other; but her heart told a different story.  The present was an occasion suited to keeping these conflicting feelings keenly alive, and, as has been said, when most of the others hastened down toward the port to be present when the Wing-and-Wing came in, she remained on the hill, brooding over her own thoughts, much of the time bathed in tears.

But Raoul had no intention of trusting his Jack-o’-Lantern where it might so readily be extinguished by the hand of man.  Instead of taking shelter against any new roving republican who might come along behind the buildings of the port, as had been expected, he shot past the end of the quay and anchored within a few fathoms of the very spot he had quitted that morning, merely dropping his kedge under foot as before.  Then he stepped confidently into his boat and pulled for the landing.

“Eh, Signor Capitano,” cried Vito Viti, as he met his new protege with an air of cordiality as soon as the foot of the latter touched the shore, “we looked for the pleasure of receiving you into our bosom, as it were, here in the haven.  How ingeniously you led off that sans culotte this morning!  Ah, the Inglese are the great nation of the ocean, Colombo notwithstanding!  The vice-governatore told me all about your illustrious female admiral, Elisabetta, and the Spanish armada; and there was Nelsoni; and now we have Smees!”

Raoul accepted these compliments, both national and personal, in a very gracious manner, squeezing the hand of the podesta with suitable cordiality and condescension, acting the great man as if accustomed to this sort of incense from infancy.  As became his public situation, as well as his character, he proposed paying his duty immediately to the superior authorities of the island.