Chapter 3

"There's Jonathan, that lucky lad,
Who knows it from the root, sir;--
He sucks in all that's to be had,
And always trades for boot, sir."

14,763D VERSE OF YANKEE DOODLE.

Il Capitano Smeet' was not sorry to get out of the government
house--palazzo, as some of the simple people of Elba called the
unambitious dwelling. He had been well badgered by the persevering
erudition of the vice-governatore; and, stored as he was with nautical
anecdotes and a tolerable personal acquaintance with sundry seaports,
for any expected occasion of this sort, he had never anticipated a
conversation which would aspire as high as the institutions, religion,
and laws of his adopted country. Had the worthy Andrea heard the
numberless maledictions that the stranger muttered between his teeth, as
he left the house, it would have shocked all his sensibilities, if it
did not revive his suspicions.

It was now night; but a starry, calm, voluptuous evening, such as are
familiar to those who are acquainted with the Mediterranean and its
shores. There was scarcely a breath of wind, though the cool air, that
appeared to be a gentle respiration of the sea, induced a few idlers
still to linger on the heights, where there was a considerable extent of
land that might serve for a promenade. Along this walk the mariner
proceeded, undetermined, for the moment, what to do next. He had
scarcely got into the open space, however, before a female, with her
form closely enveloped in a mantle, brushed near him, anxiously gazing
into his face. Her motions were too quick and sudden for him to obtain a
look in return; but, perceiving that she held her way along the heights,
beyond the spot most frequented by the idlers, he followed until
she stopped.

"Ghita!" said the young man, in a tone of delight, when he had got near
enough to the female to recognize a face and form she no longer
attempted to conceal; "this _is_ being fortunate, indeed, and saves a
vast deal of trouble. A thousand, thousand thanks, dearest Ghita, for
this one act of kindness. I might have brought trouble on you, as well
as on myself, in striving to find your residence."

"It is for that reason, Raoul, that I have ventured so much more than is
becoming in my sex, to meet you. A thousand eyes, in this gossiping
little town, are on your lugger, at this moment, and be certain they
will also be on its captain, as soon as it is known he has landed. I
fear you do not know for what you and your people are suspected, at this
very instant!"

"For nothing discreditable, I hope, dear Ghita, if it be only not to
dishonor your friends!"

"Many think, and say, you are Frenchmen, and that the English