 | CHAPTER II. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet |  |
2. CHAPTER II.
Why are we met in council?”
King Henry VIII.
When the idlers of the Proserpine appeared on deck the
following morning, the ship was about a league to-windward
of Capri, having forged well over towards the north side of
the bay, during the night, wore round, and got thus far back
on the other tack. From the moment light returned, look-outs
had been aloft with glasses, examining every nook and
corner of the bay, in order to ascertain whether any signs
of the lugger were to be seen, under its bold and picturesque
shore. So great is the extent of this beautiful basin, so
grand the natural objects which surround it, and so clear
the atmosphere, that even the largest ships loom less than
usual on its waters; and it would have been a very possible
thing for le Feu-Follet to anchor near some of the landings,
and lie there unnoticed for a week, by the fleet above, unless
tidings were carried to the latter by observers on the
shore.
Cuffe was the last to come on deck, six bells, or seven
o'clock, striking, as the occupants of the quarter-deck first
lifted their hats to him. He glanced around him, and then
turned towards Griffin, who was now officer of the watch.
“I see two ships coming down the bay, Mr. Griffin,” he
said — “no signals yet, I suppose, sir?”
“Certainly not, sir, or they would have been reported
sloop, I know by her new royals, is the Ringdove. The
first ship, Captain Cuffe, brags of being able to travel faster
than anything within the Straits!”
“I 'll bet a month's pay the Few-Folly walks away from
her, on a bow-line, ten knots to her nine. If she can do that
with the Proserpine, she 'll at least do that with Mistress
Terpsichore. There goes a signal from the frigate now, Mr.
Griffin, though a conjuror could hardly read it, tailing directly
on as it does. Well, quarter-master, what do you make it
out to be?”
“It 's the Terpsichore's number, sir; and the other ship
has just made the Ringdove's.”
“Show ours, and keep a sharp look-out; there 'll be
something else to tell us presently.”
In a few minutes, the Terpsichore expressed a wish to
speak the Proserpine, when Cuffe filled his main-top-sail, and
hauled close upon a wind. An hour later, the three ships
passed within hail of each other, when both the junior commanders
lowered their gigs and came on board the Proserpine
to report. Roller followed in the first-cutter, which had
been towed down by the Terpsichore.
The Terpsichore was commanded by Captain Sir Frederick
Dashwood, a lively young baronet, who preferred the
active life of a sailor, to indolence and six thousand a year
on shore; and who had been rewarded for his enterprise by
promotion and a fast frigate, at the early age of two-and-twenty.
The Ringdove was under a master-commandant,
of the name of Lyon, who was just sixty years old, having
worked his way up to his present rank by dint of long and
arduous services, owing his last commission and his command
to the accident of having been a first-lieutenant at the
battle of Cape St. Vincent. Both these gentlemen appeared
simultaneously on the quarter-deck of the Proserpine, where
they were duly received by the captain and all the assembled
officers.
“Good morrow to you, Cuffe,” said Dashwood, giving the
other the tip of his fingers, as soon as the ceremonious part
of the reception was over; and casting a glance, half-admiring,
half-critical, at the appearance of things on deck —
and — ha! — how long have you had those brass ornaments
on your capstan?
“They were only put there yesterday, Sir Frederick; a
little slush-money did it all.”
“Has Nelson seen them? I rather fancy not—they tell
me he 's as savage as an Arab about knick-knackery, now-a-days.
What an awkward job that was yesterday afternoon,
by the way, Cuffe!”
“It has been a bad business, and, as an old Agamemnon,
I would give a year's rank that it never had taken place.”
“A year's rank!—that's a great deal; a year would set
me back, hard aground alongside of old Lyon, here. I was
a lieutenant less than three years since, and couldn't afford
half a year. But all you old Agamemnons think as much
of your little Nel. as if he were a pretty girl; isn't it true,
Lyon?”
“I dare say it may be, Sir Frederick,” answered Lyon;
“and if you had been the first-lieutenant of a two-decker,
off Cape St. Vincent, on the 14th February, 1797, you would
have thought as much of him, too. Here we were, only
fifteen sail in all, — that is, of vessels of the line — with the
wind at—”
“Oh, hang your battle, Lyon, I 've heard all that, at least
seventeen times!”
“Well, if ye haave, Sir Frederick,” returned Lyon, who
was a Scotchman, “it 'll be just once a year since ye war'
born, leaving out the time ye war' in the nursery. But
we 've not come here to enlighten Captain Cuffe in these
particulars, so much as in obedience to an order of the rear-admiral's
— little Nel. as ye 'll be calling him, I suppose,
Sir Frederick Dashwood?”
“Nay, it 's you old Agamemnons, or old fellows, who
gave him that name —”
“Ye 'll please to excuse me, sir,” interrupted Lyon, a little
dogmatically—“ye 've never heard me call him anything
but my lord, since His Majesty, God bless him! was graciously
pleased to elevate him to the peerage — nothing but
`my lord,' and the `rear-admiral;' naval rank being entitled
to its privileges even on the throne. Many a king has been
a colonel, and I see no disparagement in one's being an
my lord is made Duke of Bronté, he is entitled to be called
`Your Grace'—all the Scottish dukes are so designated, and
I see no reason why the rear-admiral should not have his
just dues, as well as the best of them.”
“Let him alone for that,” said Cuffe, laughing; “Nel.
will look out for himself, as well as for the king. But, gentlemen,
I suppose you have not come down here merely for
a morning walk — have I any reports to hear?”
“I beg your pardon, Captain Cuffe, but I was really forgetting
my errand,” answered Dashwood. “Here are your
orders for you, and we are both directed to report to you.
The lieutenant who brought the package aboard me, said
there would be a spy to try, and a lugger to catch. Did they
tell you anything of this matter, Lyon?”
“No, Sir Frederick; not being inquisitive, I hear but little
of what is going on in the fleet. My orders are to report
myself and ship to Captain Cuffe, for service, which I have
the honour now to do.”
“Well, gentlemen, here are further instructions for you.
This is an order to hold a court, composed of Captain Richard
Cuffe, of the Proserpine, president; Captain Sir Frederick
Dashwood, Bart., of the Terpsichore, &c. &c.; and Lyon,
Winchester, and Spriggs, your first-lieutenant, Sir Frederick,
for the trials of Raoul Yvard, a French citizen, on the
charge of being a spy, and Ithuel Bolt, seaman, &c., on the
charge of being a deserter. Here is everything in rule, and
there are your respective orders, gentlemen.”
“Bless me, I 'd no notion of this!” exclaimed Lyon, who
was greatly averse to this part of an officer's duty. “I 'd
thought it altogither a trial of speed after a Frenchman, for
which purpose, the rear-admiral, or my lord, or his grace,
whichever it may be right to call him, had seen fit to bring
three of his fastest ships together.”
“I wish it was nothing but the last, Captain Lyon; but
we have the disagreeable duty of trying a spy and a deserter,
before us. You will return to your ships, gentlemen, and
follow us in to an anchorage. I intend to bring up, at a
single anchor, under the shore at Capri, where we can lie
during the calm, and get through with our courts. The
cases will be clear, and not detain us long, and we can send
outside. In the meantime, we must be busy lest we lose the
breeze. You will attend to the signal for the court.”
At this order the two visiters got into their boats, and the
Proserpine again filled. The three vessels now made the
best of their way towards the point of destination, anchoring
off the town, or village, in the island of Capri, just as two
bells struck. Ten minutes later, the Proserpine fired a gun,
and ran up the flag which denotes the sitting of a court-martial.
Although it has not been deemed necessary to relate them,
the reader will understand that all the details required by
the law, had been observed, as regards these trials; the
promptitude of the proceedings being partly characteristic
of the decision of the admiral, but more in consequence of a
wish to use the charges against the delinquents, as a means
of seizing the true hero of our tale, the little Feu-Follet.
While a mistaken, not to say a mawkish philanthropy,
is unsettling so many of the ancient land-marks of society,
and, among other heresies, is preaching the doctrine that
“the object of punishment is the reformation of the criminal,”
it is a truth which all experience confirms that nothing
renders justice so terrible, and consequently so efficient, as
its promptitude and certainty. When all its requirements
are observed, the speediest exercise of its functions is the
most conducive to the protection of society, the real motive
for the existence of all human regulations of this nature;
and it is a great merit of the much-abused English ordinances,
that the laws are rarely made stalking-horses for the
benefit of the murderer or the forger; but, that once fairly
tried and convicted, the expiation of their crimes awaits the
offenders with a certainty and energy that leave the impression
on the community that punishments were intended to
produce. That this people has done well in liberating itself
from many of their inherited usages and laws, is as certain
as that one age has interests different from another; one set
of circumstances, governing principles at variance with those
which preceded them; but, it would be well, also, to remember,
that, while moral changes are as necessary as physical
exercise, there are truths that are eternal, and rules of right
When the members of the court mentioned, assembled in
the cabin of the Proserpine, it was with all the forms and
exterior observances that were necessary to command
respect. The officers were in full dress, the oaths were
administered with solemnity, the table was arranged with
taste, and an air of decent gravity reigned over all. Little
time, however, was lost unnecessarily, and the officer to
whom had been assigned the duty of prevôt-marshal, was
directed to produce his prisoners.
Raoul Yvard and Ithuel Bolt were brought into the cabin
at the same moment, though they came from different parts
of the ship, and were allowed to hold no communication
with each other. When both were present, they were
arraigned, and the accusations were read to them. Raoul
having admitted his knowledge of English, no interpreter
was sworn, but the proceedings were had in the usual manner.
As it was intended to try the Frenchman first, and
Ithuel might be wanted as a witness, the latter was taken
out of the cabin again, courts-martial never permitting one
witness to hear what another has testified, although an ingenious
substitute for ears has been adopted of late, by publishing
in the journals, from day to day, whatever passes,
when the length of the proceedings will admit of such a
device.
“We will now swear the Signor Andrea Barrofaldi,”
commenced the Judge Advocate, as soon as the preliminaries
were observed. “This is a Catholic bible, sir, and I
will put the oaths in Italian, if you will have the goodness
first to swear me in as an interpreter.”
This was done, when the oath was duly administered to
the vice-governatore. Then came a few questions as to the
station, country, &c., of the witness, after which more material
matter was inquired into.
“Signor Vice-Governatore, do you know the prisoner by
sight?” demanded the Judge Advocate.
“Si; I have had the honour to receive him in my residence
in the island of Elba.”
“Under what name and circumstances was he known to
you, Signore?”
“Eh—he called himself Sir Smees, a capitano in the service
of the English king.”
“What vessel did he pretend to command?”
“Ze Ving-y-Ving—a lugger, which I have since had reason
to think is le Feu-Follet, a corsair under the French
flag. Monsieur did me the favour to make two visits to
Porto Ferrajo, in the character of Sir Smees.”
“And you now know that this is Raoul Yvard, the French
privateersman you have mentioned?”
“Eh—know?—I know they say this is the Signor Yvard,
and that ze Ving-y-Ving is le Feu-Follet.”
“They say, will not do, Signor Barrofaldi. Can you not
say this much of your own knowledge?”
“Non, Signore.”
The court was now cleared; when it re-opened, Vito Viti
was sent for, and properly sworn, his attention being particularly
directed to the cross on the back of the book.
“Did you ever see the prisoner, before this occasion,
Signor Viti,” demanded the Judge Advocate, after the preliminary
questions had been put.
“Signore, oftener than it is agreeable to remember. I do
not think that two grave magistrates were ever more mystified,
than were the vice-governatore and myself! Eh-h-h—
Signori, the wisest sometimes become like sucking children,
when there passes a mist before the understanding.”
“Relate the circumstances under which this occurred, to
the court, Signor Podestâ.”
“Why, Signori, the facts were just these. Andrea Barrofaldi,
as you know, is the vice-governatore of Porto Ferrajo,
and I am its unworthy podestâ. Of course, it is our
duty to look into all matters affecting the public weal, and
more especially into the business and occupations of strangers
who come into our island. Well, it is now three weeks or
more since a lugger, or felucca, was seen —”
“Which was it, a felucca, or a lugger?” demanded the
judge Advocate, holding his pen ready to write the answer.
“Both, Signore; a felucca and a lugger.”
“Ah—there were two; a felucca and a lugger.”
“No, Signore—but this felucca was a lugger. Tommaso
Tonti wished to mystify me about that, too; but I have not
been podestâ in a sea-port, so many years, for nothing. No,
and lugger-feluccas.”
When this answer was translated, the members of the
court smiled, while Raoul Yvard fairly laughed.
“Well, Signor Podestâ,” resumed the Judge Advocate —
“the prisoner came into Porto Ferrajo in a lugger?”
“So it was said, Signore. I did not see him actually on
board of her, but he professed to be the commander of a
certain vessel, in the service of the King of Inghilterra,
called ze Ving-y-Ving, and said that his own name was
Smees—si—il capitano, or Sir Smees.”
“Professed? — Do you not know that this lugger was the
notorious French privateer, le Feu-Follet?”
I know they say so, now, Signori; but the vice-governatore
and I supposed her to be ze Ving-y-Ving.”
“And do you not know that the prisoner is actually Raoul
Yvard; of your own knowledge, I mean?”
“Corpo di Bacco!—How should I know any such thing,
Signor Guideca-Avvocato,” exclaimed Vito Viti, who literally
translated what he understood to be the title of his
interrogator, thereby converting him into a sort of ship-felucca
— “how should I know any such thing! I do not
keep company with corsairs, except when they come upon
our island and call themselves `Sir Smees.”'
The Judge Advocate and the members of the court
looked gravely at each other. No one in the least doubted
that the prisoner was Raoul Yvard, but it was necessary
legally to prove it, before he could be condemned. Cuffe
was now asked if the prisoner had not confessed his own
identity, but no one could say he had done so in terms,
although much of his conversation would seem to imply as
much. In a word, justice was like to be in what is by no
means an unusual dilemma for that upright functionary;
viz.—unable to show a fact that no one doubted. At length
Cuffe recollected Ghita and Ithuel, and he wrote their names
on a piece of paper, and passed them down the table to the
Judge Advocate. The latter nodded his head, as much as
to say he understood the president's meaning; and then he
told the prisoner he might cross-examine the witness, if he
saw fit.
Raoul fully understood his situation. Although he certainly
ordinary views of a spy, he was aware how far he had committed
himself, and foresaw the readiness with which his
enemies would destroy him, could they find the legal means
of so doing. He also comprehended the dilemma in which
his accusers were placed for the want of testimony, and, at
once, resolved to turn the circumstance as much as possible
to his advantage. Until that moment, the idea of denying
his own identity had never crossed his mind; but perceiving
what he fancied an opening for escape, it was but natural
to avail himself of its protection. Turning, then, to the
podestâ, he put his questions in English, that they might go
fairly through the same process of interpretation as the rest
of the examination.
“You say, Signor Podestâ,” he commenced, “that you
saw me in the town of Porto Ferrajo, and in the island of
Elba?”
“Si — in which town I have the honour to be one of the
authorities.”
“You say I professed to command a vessel in the service
of the King of England; a felucca, called ze Ving-and-Ving?”
“Si—ze Ving-y-Ving—the commander of that felucca.”
“I understood you to say, Mr. Podestâ,” put in Lyon,
“that the craft was a lugger?”
“A felucca-lugger, Signor Capitano — nothing more nor
less than that, on my honour.”
“And all these honourable officers well know,” observed
Raoul, ironically, “that a felucca-lugger, and a lugger, such
as le Feu-Follet is understood to be, are very different things.
Now, Signore, you have never heard me say that I am a
Frenchman?”
“Non — you have not been so weak as to confess that to
one who hates the name of the Françese. Cospetto! — If
all the Grand Duke's subjects detested his enemies as I do,
he would be the most powerful prince in Italy!”
“No doubt, Signore; and, now, suffer me to inquire if
you heard any other name for that felucca, than ze Ving-and-Ving.
Did I ever call her le Feu-Follet?”
“Non — always ze Ving-y-Ving; never anything else;
but—”
“Your pardon, Signore; have the goodness to answer my
questions. I called the felucca ze Ving-and-Ving; and I
called myself le capitaine Smeet; is it not true?”
“Si — Ving-y-Ving and il capitano Smees — Sir Smees,
a signore of an illustrious English family of that name, if I
remember right.”
Raoul smiled, for he was confident this notion proceeded
principally from the self-illusion of the two Italians, themselves;
the little he had said on the subject, having been
drawn out more by their suggestions than by any design
on his part. Still, he did not deem it prudent to contradict
the podestâ, who, as yet, had testified to nothing that could
possibly criminate him.
“If a young man has the vanity to wish to be thought
noble,” answered Raoul, calmly, “it may prove his folly,
but it does not prove him a spy. You did not hear me confess
myself a Frenchman, you say: now did you not hear
me say I was born in Guernsey?”
“Si—the Signore did say that the family of Smees came
from that island — as the vice-governatore calls it, though I
acknowledge I never heard of such an island. There are
Sicilia, Sardegna, Elba, Caprea, Ischia, Irlanda, Inghilterra,
Scozia, Malta, Capraya, Pianosa, Gorgona, and America,
with several more in the east; but I never heard of such an
island as Guernsey. Si, Signore; we are humble people,
and I hope modest people in the island of Elba, but we do
know something of the rest of the world, notwithstanding.
If you wish to hear these matters touched on ingeniously,
however, you will do well to call in the vice-governatore,
for half an hour, and invite him to open his stores of knowledge.
San Antonio! — I doubt if Italy has his equal—at
islands, in particular.”
“Good,” continued Raoul; “and now tell these officers,
Signore Podestâ, if you can say, on your oath, that I had
anything to do with that felucca, ze Ving-and-Ving, at all.”
“I cannot, Signore, except from your own words. You
were dressed like one of these officers, here, in an English
uniform, and said you commanded ze Ving-y-Ving. While
speaking of islands, Signori, I forgot Palmavola and Ponza,
both of which we passed in this ship, on our voyage from
Elba.”
“Good — it is always well to be particular under oath.
Now, Signor Podestâ, the result of all your evidence is,
that you do not know that the felucca you mention was le
Feu-Follet, that I am a Frenchman even, much less that I
am Raoul Yvard, and that I told you I was from Guernsey,
and that my name was Jaques Smeet — is it not so?”
“Si — you did say your name was Giac Smees, and you
did not say you were Raoul Yvard. But, Signore, I saw
you firing your cannon at the boats of this frigate, with
French colours flying, and that is some signs of an enemy,
as we understand these matters, in Porto Ferrajo.”
Raoul felt that this was a direct blow; still, it wanted the
connecting link to make it testimony.
“But you did not see me doing this? — You mean you
saw ze Ving-and-Ving in a combat with the frigate's boats.”
“Si—that was it—but you told me you were commander
of ze Ving-y-Ving.”
“Let us understand you,” put in the Judge Advocate —
“is it the intention of the prisoner to deny his being a
Frenchman and an enemy?”
“It is my intention, sir, to deny everything that is not
proved.”
“But your accent—your English—nay, your appearance,
show that you are a Frenchman.”
“Your pardon, sir. There are many nations that speak
French, which are not French, to-day. All along the north
frontier of France, is French spoken by foreigners—Savoy,
and Geneva, and Vaud — also, the English have French
subjects in the Canadas, besides Guernsey and Jersey. You
will not hang a man because his accent is not from London?”
“We shall do you justice, prisoner,” observed Cuffe,
“and you shall have the benefit of every doubt that makes
in your favour. Still, it may be well to inform you that the
impression of your being a Frenchman and Raoul Yvard, is
very strong; and if you can show the contrary, you would
do well to prove it, by direct testimony.”
“How will this honourable court expect that to be done?
I was taken in a boat, last night, and am tried, this morning,
at a notice as short as that which was given to Caraccioli.
Give me time to send for witnesses, and I will prove
who and what I am.”
This was said coolly, and with the air of a man assured
of his own innocence, and it produced a slight effect on his
judges; for an appeal to the unvarying principles of right,
seldom falls unheeded on the ear. Nevertheless, there
could be no doubt in the minds of the officers of the Proserpine,
in particular, either as to the character of the lugger,
or as to that of the prisoner; and men, under such circumstances,
were not likely to allow an enemy who had done
them so much injury to escape. The appeal only rendered
them more cautious, and more determined to protect themselves
against any charge of unfair proceedings.
“Have you any further questions to put to the witness,
prisoner?” inquired the president of the court.
“None, at present, sir — we will go on, if you please,
gentlemen.”
“Call Ithuel Bolt,” said the Judge Advocate, reading the
new witness's name from a list before him.
Raoul started, for the idea of the American's being brought
forward in this capacity, had never occurred to him. In a
minute Ithuel appeared, was sworn, and took his place at
the foot of the table.
“Your name is Ithuel Bolt?” observed the Judge Advocate,
holding his pen in readiness to record the answer.
“So they say aboard here,” answered the witness, coolly
— “though, for my part, I 've no answer to give to such a
question.”
“Do you deny your name, sir?”
“I deny nothing — want to say nothing, or to have anything
to do with this trial, or this ship.”
Raoul breathed easier; for, to own the truth, he had not
much confidence in Ithuel's constancy, or disinterestedness;
and he apprehended that he had been purchased, with the promise
of a pardon for himself.
“You will remember that you are under oath, and may
be punished for contumacy, on refusing to answer.”
“I 've some gineral idees of law,” answered Ithuel, passing
his hand over his queue, to make sure it was right, “for
we all do a little at that in Ameriky. I practised some myself,
when a young man, though it was only afore a justicepeace.
We used to hold that a witness needn't answer ag'in
himself.”
“Is it, then, on account of criminating yourself, that you
answer thus vaguely?”
“I decline answering that question,” answered Ithuel, with
an air of dignity.
“Witness, have you any personal knowledge of the prisoner?”
“I decline answering that question, too.”
“Do you know anything of such a person as Raoul
Yvard?”
“What if I do? — I 'm a native American, and have a
right to form acquaintances, in foreign lands, if I see it 's to
my interest, or it 's agreeable to my feelin's.”
“Have you never served on board His Majesty's ships?”
“What majesty?—There 's no majesty in Ameriky, as I
know, but the majesty of heaven.”
“Remember that your answers are all recorded, and may
tell against you, on some other occasion.”
“Not lawfully; a witness can't be made to give answers
that tell ag'in himself.”
“Certainly not made to do it; still he may do it, of his
own accord.”
“Then it 's the duty of the court to put him on his guard.
I 've heerd that, ag'in and ag'in, in Ameriky.”
“Did you ever see a vessel called le Feu-Follet?”
“How, in natur', is a mariner to tell all the vessels he
may happen to see on the wide ocean!”
“Did you ever serve under the French flag?”
“I decline entering at all into my private affairs. Being
free, I 'm free to sarve where I please.”
“It is useless to ask this witness any further questions,”
Cuffe quietly observed. “The man is well known in this
ship, and his own trial will most probably take place as
soon as this is ended.”
The Judge Advocate assented, and Ithuel was permitted
to withdraw, his contumacy being treated with the indifference
that power is apt to exhibit towards weakness. Still
there was no legal proof on which to convict the prisoner.
No one doubted his guilt, and there were the strongest reasons,
short of a downright certainty, for supposing that he
commanded the lugger which had so recently fought the
boats of the very ship in which the court was sitting; but,
required; and the recent execution of Caraccioli had made
so much conversation, that few would condemn without seeing
their justification before them. Things were really getting
to be seriously awkward, and the court was again
cleared for the purpose of consultation. In the private discourse
that followed, Cuffe stated all that had occurred,
the manner in which Raoul had been identified, and the
probabilities — nay, moral certainties of the case. At the
same time, he was forced to allow, that he possessed no
direct evidence that the lugger he had chased was a Frenchman
at all, and least of all le Feu-Follet. It is true, she
had worn the French flag, but she had also worn the English,
and the Proserpine had done the same thing. To be
sure, the lugger had fought under the drapeau tricolor,
which might be taken as a strong circumstance against her;
but it was not absolutely conclusive, for the circumstances
might possibly justify deception to the last moment; and he
admitted that the frigate, herself, had appeared to fire at the
batteries, under the same ensign. The case was allowed
to be embarrassing; and, while no one really doubted the
identity of Raoul, those who were behind the curtains greatly
feared they might be compelled to adjourn the trial for want
of evidence, instead of making an immediate sentence the
means of getting possession of the lugger, as had been
hoped. When all these points had been sufficiently discussed,
and Cuffe had let his brethren into his view of the
real state of the case, he pointed out a course that he still
trusted would prove effectual. After a few minutes of further
deliberation on this information, the doors were opened,
and the court resumed its public sitting, as before.
“Let a young woman who is known by the name of
Ghita, be brought in, next,” said the Judge Advocate, consulting
his notes.
Raoul started, and a shade of deep concern passed over
his face; but he soon recovered, and seemed unmoved.
Ghita and her uncle had been taken from the cabin state-room,
and placed below, in order that the private consultations
might be perfectly secret, and it was necessary to wait
a few minutes, until she could be summoned. These past,
the door opened and the girl entered the room. She cast a
situation, and the awful character of an oath to one of her
sensitive conscience and utter inexperience, soon drew her
attention entirely to the scene more immediately before her.
The Judge Advocate explained the nature of the oath she
was required to take, and then he administered it. Had
Ghita been taken less by surprise, or had she, in the least,
foreseen the consequences, no human power could have
induced her to submit to be sworn; but, ignorant of all this,
she submitted passively, kissing the cross with reverence,
and even offering to kneel as she made the solemn protestation.
All this was painful to the prisoner, who distinctly
foresaw the consequences. Still, so profound was his reverence
for Ghita's singleness of heart and mind, that he would
not by look or gesture, in any manner endeavour to undermine
that sacred love of truth, which he knew formed the
very foundations of her character. She was accordingly
sworn, without anything occurring to alarm her affections,
or to apprise her of what might be the sad result of the act.
| CHAPTER II. The wing-and-wing, or, Le Feu-follet | |