“Does she go to Italy to reside?”

“Oh, no; she only goes on a wedding trip.  She will return in the course of a year, when the impression of the perfidy and cruelty of Simon Turchi will be less painful.  Back, back, Master Stephen, they are coming!”

From the crowd arose a joyous shout.  Each was anxious to approach Madame Deodati.  Those who did not know her desired to see the noble young woman whose name was so painfully connected with the bloody history of Simon Turchi, and who was esteemed a model of pure virtue, fervent piety, and ideal beauty.  The neighbors and those who had the honor of knowing her collected in order to salute her, to bid her a respectful and cordial adieu, and to wish her a happy voyage.

Mary Van de Werve, now Madame Geronimo Deodati, appeared at the door accompanied by her husband.  As soon as the people perceived her, loud and long acclamations greeted her; they waved their caps, clapped their hands, rent the air with their cries of joy, and strove to obtain a glance of the angelic features of the beautiful lady and the noble countenance of her husband, who had been so miraculously preserved, by the providence of God, from the hands of his cruel enemy, Simon Turchi.

Mr. Van de Werve walked by his daughter’s side; the old Deodati was near his beloved nephew Geronimo.  Then followed Mary’s two married brothers and a large number of her father’s near relatives and friends, as well as many Italians, Portuguese, and Spaniards, who wished to escort Geronimo to the ship.

When Mary heard the benedictions and joyous shouts of the people, and saw all eyes fixed upon her with looks of love, the blood mantled to her cheeks, and she modestly cast down her eyes.  But immediately raising them, she saluted the crowd as a mark of her gratitude for their kindness.  The multitude, at a sign from Mr. Van de Werve, opened a passage for the party, and they proceeded to the Scheldt amid acclamations testifying the love and respect they inspired.  Their drive resembled a triumphal procession.  The old Deodati was deeply moved.  He seemed rejuvenated.  A sweet smile was upon his lips, and he looked proudly upon Geronimo.  Thus full of the thought of their future happiness, they reached the dock-yard.  In the middle of the Scheldt was the Il Salvatore, decked with flags and rocking upon the waves as if conscious of the precious treasure about to be confided to it.

A part of the sailors were occupied in unmooring the vessel; even the harsh grating sound of the capstan could be heard on the wharf.  The rest of the crew manned the masts, and they waved their caps in the air, shouting: 

“Benvenuto! benvenuto!  Viva, viva la nostra signora!”

At the same time the sound of five or six cannon from the Il Salvatore boomed over the waters, prolonged by the echoes from either side as it floated down the river.  The multitude replied by three cheers, and the last reverberation of the cannon was lost in the vivas of those on the shore and ships.