“I would much rather go with Sir Fabricius, your Highness, than to any place where I have no acquaintances.  I have a great esteem and respect for him.”

“He is worthy of it; there is no nobler knight in the Order, and, had I fallen, none who could more confidently have been selected to fill my place.  He has an equally high opinion of you, and spoke long and earnestly concerning you.”

A fortnight later the ship carrying the two knights arrived at Genoa.

“I will go ashore at once, Gervaise,” Caretto said.  “I know not whether my cousin is in the city or on her estate; if the former, I will stay with her for a day or two before going off to my commandery, and of course you will also be her guest.  I hope she will be here, for methinks we shall both need to refit our wardrobes before we are fit to appear in society.”

“Certainly I shall,” Gervaise agreed; “for, indeed, I find that my gala costume suffered a good deal during my long absence; and, moreover, although I have not increased in height, I have broadened out a good deal since I was here two years ago.”

“Yes; you were a youth then, Gervaise, and now you are a man, and one of no ordinary strength and size.  The sun of Tripoli, and your labours during the siege, have added some years to your appearance.  You are, I think, little over twenty, but you look two or three years older.  The change is even greater in your manner than in your appearance; you were then new to command, doubtful as to your own powers, and diffident with those older than yourself.  Now for two years you have thought and acted for yourself, and have shown yourself capable of making a mark even among men like the knights of St. John, both in valour and in fitness to command.  You saved St. Nicholas, you saved the life of the grand master; and in the order of the day he issued on the morning we left, granting you three months’ leave for the recovery of your wounds, he took the opportunity of recording, in the name of the council and himself, their admiration for the services rendered by you during the siege, and his own gratitude for saving his life when he lay helpless and surrounded by the Moslems —­ a testimony of which any knight of Christendom might well feel proud.”

It was three hours before Caretto returned to the ship.

“My cousin is at home, and will be delighted to see you.  I am sorry that I have kept you waiting so long, but at present Genoa, and, indeed, all Europe, is agog at the news of the defeat of the Turks, and Italy especially sees clearly enough that, had Rhodes fallen, she would have been the next object of attack by Mahomet; therefore the ladies would not hear of my leaving them until I had told them something at least of the events of the siege, and also how it came about that you were there to share in the defence.  I see that you are ready to land; therefore, let us be going at once.  Most of the people will be taking their siesta at present, and we shall get through the streets without being mobbed; for I can assure you that the mantle of the Order is just at present in such high favour that I had a hard task to wend my way through the streets to my cousin’s house.”