rd now threaded his way,
wearing his sea cap and his assumed naval uniform in a smart, affected
manner, for he was fully sensible of all the advantages he possessed on
the score of personal appearance. His unsettled eye, however, wandered
from one pretty face to another in quest of Ghita, who alone was the
object of his search and the true cause of the awkward predicament into
which he had brought not only himself, but le Feu-Follet. In this
manner, now thinking of her he sought, and then reverting to his
situation in an enemy's port, he walked along the whole line of the
cliff, scarce knowing whether to return or to seek his boat by doubling
on the town, when he heard his own name pronounced in a sweet voice
which went directly to his heart. Turning on his heel, Ghita was within
a few feet of him.

"Salute me distantly and as a stranger," said the girl, in almost
breathless haste, "and point to the different streets, as if inquiring
your way through the town. This is the place where we met last evening;
but, remember, it is no longer dark."

As Raoul complied with her desire any distant spectator might well have
fancied the meeting accidental, though he poured forth a flood of
expressions of love and admiration.

"Enough, Raoul," said the girl, blushing and dropping her eyes, though
no displeasure was visible on her serene and placid face, "another time
I might indulge you. How much worse is your situation now than it was
last night! Then you had only the port to fear; now you have both the
people of the port and this strange ship--an Inglese, as they tell me?"

"No doubt--la Proserpine, Etooell says, and he knows; you remember
Etooell, dearest Ghita, the American who was with me at the tower--well,
he has served in this very ship, and knows her to be la Proserpine, of
forty-four." Raoul paused a moment; then he added, laughing in a way to
surprise his companion--"Qui--la Proserpine, le Capitaine Sir Brown!"

"What you can find to amuse you in all this, Raoul, is more than I can
discover. Sir Brown, or sir anybody else, will send you again to those
evil English prison-ships, of which you have so often told me; and there
is surely nothing pleasant in _that_ idea."

"Bah! my sweet Ghita, Sir Brown, or Sir White, or Sir Black has not yet
got me. I am not a child, to tumble into the fire because the
leading-strings are off; and le Feu-Follet shines or goes out, exactly
as it suits her purposes. The frigate, ten to on