Chapter 5

"The great contention of the sea and skies
Parted our fellowship;--But, hark! a sail!"

Cassio

Whatever may have been the result of the vice-governatore's further
inquiries and speculations that night, they were not known. After
consuming an hour in the lower part of the town, in and around the port,
he and the podestà sought their homes and their pillows, leaving the
lugger riding quietly at her anchor in the spot where she was last
presented to the reader's attention. If Raoul Yvard and Ghita had
another interview, too, it was so secretly managed as to escape all
observation, and can form no part of this narrative.

A Mediterranean morning, at midsummer, is one of those balmy and
soothing periods of the day that affect the mind as well as the body.
Everywhere we have the mellow and advancing light that precedes the
appearance of the sun--the shifting hues of the sky--that pearly
softness that seems to have been invented to make us love the works of
God's hand and the warm glow of the brilliant sun; but it is not
everywhere that these fascinating changes occur, on a sea whose blue
vies with the darkest depths of the void of space, beneath a climate
that is as winning as the scenes it adorns, and amid mountains whose
faces reflect every varying shade of light with the truth and the poetry
of nature. Such a morning as this last was that which succeeded the
night with which our tale opened, bringing with it the reviving
movements of the port and town. Italy, as a whole, is remarkable for an
appearance of quiet and repose that are little known in the more
bustling scenes of the greedier commerce of our own quarter of the
world, or, indeed, in those of most of the northern nations of Europe.
There is in her aspect, modes of living, and even in her habits of
business, an air of decayed gentility that is wanting to the ports,
shops, and marts of the more vulgar parts of the world; as if conscious
of having been so long the focus of human refinement, it was unbecoming,
in these later days, to throw aside all traces of her history and power.
Man, and the climate, too, seem in unison; one meeting the cares of life
with a _far niente_ manner that is singularly in accordance with the
dreamy and soothing atmosphere he respires.

Just as day dawned, the fall of a billet of wood on the deck of the
Feu-Follet gave the first intimation that any one was stirring in or
near the haven. If there had been a watch on board that craft throughout
the night--and doubtless such had been the case--it had been kept in so
quiet and unobtrusive a manner as to render it questionable to the
jealous eyes which had been riveted on her from the shore until long
past midnight. Now, however, everything was