if you desire to keep the name of your countries glorious in the eyes of future history.  Spare not the rod because “my lady” forsooth! with her rich hair falling around her in beauteous dishevelment and her eyes bathed in tears, implores your mercy—­for by very reason of her wealth and station she deserves less pity than the painted outcast who knows not where to turn for bread.  A high post demands high duty!  But I talk wildly.  Whipping is done away with, for women at least—­we give a well-bred shudder of disgust at the thought of it.  When do we shudder with equal disgust at our own social enormities?  Seldom or never.  Meanwhile, in cases of infidelity, husbands and wives can separate and go on their different ways in comparative peace.  Yes—­some can and some do; but I am not one of these.  No law in all the world can mend the torn flag of my honor; therefore I must be a law to myself—­a counsel, a jury, a judge, all in one and from my decision there can be no appeal!  Then I must act as executioner—­and what torture was ever so perfectly unique as the one I have devised?  So I mused, lying broadly awake, with face upturned to the heavens, watching the light of the moon pouring itself out on the ocean like a shower of gold, while the water rushed gurgling softly against the sides of the brig, and broke into the laughter of white foam as we scudded along.

CHAPTER X.

All the next day the wind was in our favor, and we arrived at Palermo an hour before sunset.  We had scarcely run into harbor when a small party of officers and gendarmes, heavily laden with pistols and carbines, came on board and showed a document authorizing them to search the brig for Carmelo Neri.  I was somewhat anxious for the safety of my good friend the captain—­but he was in nowise dismayed; he smiled and welcomed the armed emissaries of the government as though they were his dearest friends.

“To give you my opinion frankly,” he said to them, as he opened a flask of line Chianti for their behoof, “I believe the villain Carmelo is somewhere about Gaeta.  I would not tell you a lie—­why should I?  Is there not a reward offered, and am not I poor?  Look you, I would do my best to assist you!”

One of the men looked at him dubiously.

“We received information,” he said, in precise, business-like tones, “that Neri escaped from Gaeta two months since, and was aided and abetted in his escape by one Andrea Luziani, owner of the coasting brig ‘Laura,’ journeying for purposes of trade between Naples and Palermo.  You are Andrea Luziani, and this is the brig ’Laura,’—­we are right in this; is it not so?”