the heat was becoming terrible, as the sun rose higher in the sky, and very little air could be obtained through the window, so that poor Julienne could not eat, and Rosette fell into a heavy sleep in the midst of her sighs.  Even Estelle, who had got out her Telemaque, like a sort of oracle in the course of being verified, was asleep over it, when fresh noises and grating sounds were board, new steps on deck, and there were steps and voices.  The Genoese captain was heard exclaiming, ’Open, Madame! you can do so safely.  This is the Algerine captain, who is bound to protect you.’

The maids huddled together behind their lady, who stood forward as the door opened to admit a stout, squarely-built man in the typical dress of a Turk,—­white turban, purple coat, broad sash crammed with weapons, and ample trousers,—­a truculent-looking figure which made the maids shudder and embrace one another with suppressed shrieks, but which somehow, even in the midst of his Eastern salaam, gave the Countess a sense that he was acting a comedy, and carried her involuntarily back to the Moors whom she had seen in the Cid on the stage.  And looking again, she perceived that though brown and weather-beaten, there was a certain Northern ruddiness inherent in his complexion; that his eyes were gray, so far as they were visible between the surrounding puckers; and his eyebrows, moustache, and beard not nearly so dark as the hair of the Genoese who stood cringing beside him as interpreter.  She formed her own conclusions and adhered to them, though he spoke in bad Arabic to the skipper, who proceeded to explain that El Reis Hamed would offer no injury to Madame la Comtesse, her suite or property, being bound by treaty between the Dey and the King of France, but that he required to see her passport.  There was a little blundering in the Italian’s French rendering, and Madame de Bourke was quick to detect the perception of it in the countenance of the Reis, stolid though it was.  She felt no doubt that he was a renegade of European birth, and watched, with much anxiety as well as curiosity, his manner of dealing with her passports, which she would not let out of her own hand.  She saw in a moment that though he let the Genoese begin to interpret them, his eyes were following intelligently; and she hazarded the observation, ‘You understand, sir.  You are Frank.’

He turned one startled glance towards the door to see if there were any listeners, and answered, ‘Hollander, Madame.’

The Countess had travelled with diplomatists all her life, and knew a little of the vernacular of most languages, and it was in Dutch—­broken indeed, but still Dutch—­that she declared that she was sure that she might rely on his protection—­a security which in truth she was far from feeling; for while some of these unfortunate men, renegades only from weakness, yearned after their compatriots and their lost home and faith, others out-heroded the Moors themselves in ferocity, especially towards