ty
of a chapel.

Carlo Giuntotardi soon after begged the dead body from the conquerors.
There was no motive for denying the request, and it was placed in a
boat and towed to the shore, accompanied by all who had remained. The
heavy sirocco that soon succeeded drove the waves athwart the islet of
the ruins, effectually erasing its stains of blood, and sweeping every
trace of le Feu-Follet and of the recent events into the sea.

At the foot of the Scaricatojo the seamen constructed a rude bier, and
thus they bore the dead up that wild and yet lovely precipice,
persevering in their good work until they reached the cottage of Carlo
Giuntotardi's sister. A little procession accompanied the body from the
first, and, Ghita being universally known and respected among the simple
inhabitants of those heights, when it entered the street of St. Agata it
had grown into a line that included a hundred believers.

The convent, the empty buildings of which still crown the summit of one
of the adjacent hills, was then in existence as a religious community;
and the influence of Carlo Giuntotardi was sufficient to procure its
offices in behalf of the dead. For three days and nights did the body of
Raoul Yvard, the unbeliever, lie in the chapel of that holy fraternity,
his soul receiving the benefit of masses; then it was committed to holy
ground, to await the summons of the last trump.

There is a strange disposition in the human breast to withhold praise
from a man when living, that is freely accorded to him when dead.
Although we believe that envy, and its attendant evil detraction, are
peculiarly democratic vices, meaning thereby that democracy is the most
fertile field in which these human failings luxuriate, yet is there much
reason to think that our parent nation is preeminent in the exhibition
of the peculiarity first mentioned. That which subsequently awaited
Napoleon, after his imprisonment and death, was now exhibited in the
case of Raoul Yvard, on a scale suited to his condition and renown. From
being detested in the English fleet, he got to be honored and extolled.
Now that he was dead and harmless, his seamanship could be praised, his
chivalry emulated, and his courage glorified. Winchester, McBean,
O'Leary, and Clinch attended his funeral, quite as a matter of course.
They had proved themselves worthy to be there; but many others insisted
on being of the party. Some came to get a last look of so celebrated an
adventurer,