As soon as I had recovered from my first amazement, I replied
to every low bow, by as low a courtesy, and waited till it should
please him to begin the parley.

At length he ventured to ask, in bad provincial Italian, what I did
there?

I replied that I was only admiring the fine prospect.

He begged to know, "_come diavolo_," I had got there?

I assured him I had not got there by any _diabolical_ aid, but had
merely walked through the door.

_Santi Apostoli!_ did not my excellency know, that, according to the
laws and regulations of war, no one could enter the fort, without
permission first obtained of the governor?

I apologized politely: "And where," said I, "is the governor?"

_Il Governatore son io per servirla!_ he replied, with a low bow.

You! _O che bel ceffo!_ thought I--"and what, Signor Governor, is the
use of your fort?"

"To defend the bay and town of Lerici from enemies and pirates."

"But," said I, "I see no soldier; where is the garrison to defend the
fort?"

The little old man stepped back two steps--"_Eccomi!_" he replied,
spreading his hand on his breast, and bowing with dignity.

It was impossible to make any reply: I therefore wished the governor
and garrison good morning; and disappearing through my trap-door, I
soon made my way down to the shore, where I arrived out of breath, and
just in time to step into our felucca.

* * * * *

If there be a time when we most wish for those of whom we always
think, when we most love those who are always dearest, it must be on
such a delicious night as that we passed at Sarzana, or on such a
morning as that we spent at Lerici; and if there be a time when we
least love those we always love--least wish for them, least think of
them, it must be in such a moment as the noontide of yesterday--when
the dead calm overtook us, half way between Lerici and Sestri, and I
sat in the stern of our felucca, looking with a sort of despairing
languor over the smooth purple sea, which scarcely heaved round us,
while the flapping sails drooped useless round the masts, and the
rowers indolently leaning on their oars, sung in a low and plaintive
chorus. I sat hour after hour, still and silent, sickening in the
sunshine, dazzled by its reflection on the water, and overcome with
deadly nausea: I believe nothing on earth could have roused me at that
moment. But evening so impatiently invoked, came at last: the sun set,
the last gleam of