The podesta wanted but this opening to pour out a history of his own emotions, sensations, and raptures.  He expatiated in glowing terms on the service the lugger had rendered the place by leading off the rascally republicans, showing that he considered the manoeuvre of passing the port, instead of entering it, as one of the most remarkable of which he had ever heard, or even read.

“I defied the vice-governatore to produce an example of a finer professional inspiration in the whole range of history, beginning with his Tacitus and ending with your new English work on Roma.  I doubt if the Elder Pliny, or Mark Antony, or even Caesar, ever did a finer thing, Signore; and I am not a man addicted to extravagance in compliments.  Had it been a fleet of vessels of three decks, instead of a little lugger, Christendom would have rung with the glory of the achievement!”

“Had it been but a frigate, my excellent friend, the manoeuvre would have been unnecessary.  Peste! it is not a single republican ship that can make a stout English frigate skulk along the rocks and fly like a thief at night.”

“Ah, there is the vice-governatore walking on his terrace, Sir Smees, and dying with impatience to greet you.  We will drop the subject for another occasion, and a bottle of good Florence liquor.”

The reception which Andrea Barrofaldi gave Raoul was far less warm than that he received from the podesta, though it was polite, and without any visible signs of distrust.

“I have come, Signor Vice-governatore,” said the privateersman, “in compliance with positive orders from my master, to pay my respects to you again, and to report my arrival once more in your bay, though the cruise made since my last departure has not been so long as an East India voyage.”

“Short as it has been, we should have reason to regret your absence, Signore, were it not for the admirable proofs it has afforded us of your resources and seamanship,” returned Andrea, with due complaisance.  “To own the truth, when I saw you depart it was with the apprehension that we should never enjoy this satisfaction again.  But, like your English Sir Cicero, the second coming may prove even more agreeable than the first.”

Raoul laughed, and he even had the grace to blush a little; after which he appeared to reflect intensely on some matter of moment.  Smiles struggled round his handsome mouth, and then he suddenly assumed an air of sailor-like frankness and disclosed his passing sensations in words.

“Signor Vice-governatore, I ask the favor of one moment’s private conference; Signor Vito Viti, give us leave a single moment, if you please.  I perceive, Signore,” continued Raoul, as he and Andrea walked a little aside, “that you have not easily forgotten my little fanfaronade about our English Cicero.  But what will you have?—­we sailors are sent to sea children, and we know little of books.  My excellent father, Milord Smeet,