ted trial and death of
the unfortunate Duc d'Enghien. Cuffe remained to dine with the
commander-in-chief, while Carlo Giuntotardi and his niece got into their
boat and took their way through the crowded roadstead toward the
Neapolitan frigate that now formed the prison of the unfortunate
Caraccioli.

A request at the gangway was all that was necessary to procure an
admission on board the ship. As soon as the Signor Giuntotardi reached
the quarter-deck he let his errand be known, and a messenger was sent
below to ascertain if the prisoner would see two visitors, the name of
the uncle being alone given. Francesco Caraccioli, of the Princes
Caraccioli, or, as he was more commonly called in English, Prince
Caraccioli, was now a man approaching seventy; and, being a member of
one of the most illustrious houses of lower Italy, he had long been
trusted in employments of high dignity and command. On his offence--its
apology--the indecent haste of his trial and execution, and the
irregularity of the whole proceedings, it is now unnecessary to dwell;
they have all passed into history, and are familiarly known to the
world. That very morning had he been seized and sent on board the
Foudroyant; in the cabin of that vessel had a court of his own
countrymen convened; and there had he been hastily condemned to death.
The hour of doom was near, and he was already in the ship where the
execution was to take place.

The messenger of Carlo Giuntotardi found this unfortunate man with his
confessor, by whom he had just been shrived. He heard the request with
cold indifference, but granted it on the instant, under the impression
that it came from some dependent of his family or estates, who had a
last favor to ask, or an act of justice to see performed.

"Remain here, father, I beseech you." said the prisoner, perceiving
that the priest was about to retire; "it is some contadino, or some
tradesman, whose claims have been overlooked. I am happy that he has
come: one would wish to stand acquitted of injustice before he dies. Let
them come in, my friend."

A sign was given with these words, the door of the cabin was opened, and
Ghita, with her uncle, entered. A pause of quite a minute followed,
during which the parties regarded each other in silence, the prisoner
endeavoring in vain to recall the countenances of his guests, and the
girl trembling, equally with grief and apprehension. Then the last
advanced to the feet of the condemned man,