ian tones, dropping
naturally into the vice-governatore's fault of pronunciation--"it is an
odd name, and I like it less than Feu-Follet."

"I wish, dearest Ghita, I could persuade you to like the name of Yvard,"
rejoined the young man, in a half-reproachful, half-tender manner, "and
I should care nothing for any other. You accuse me of disrespect for
priests; but no son could ever kneel to a father for his blessing, half
so readily or half so devoutly, as I could kneel with thee before any
friar in Italy, to receive that nuptial benediction which I have so
often asked at your hand, but which you have so constantly and so
cruelly refused."

"I am afraid the name would not then be Feu-Follet, but Ghita-Folie,"
said the girl, laughing, though she felt a bitter pang at the heart,
that cost her an effort to control; "no more of this now, Raoul; we may
be observed and watched; it is necessary that we separate."

A hurried conversation, of more interest to the young couple themselves
than it would prove to the reader, though it might not have been wholly
without the latter, but which it would be premature to relate, now
followed, when Ghita left Raoul on the hill, insisting that she knew the
town too well to have any apprehensions about threading its narrow and
steep streets, at any hour, by herself. This much, in sooth, must be
said in favor of Andrea Barrofaldi's administration of justice; he had
made it safe for the gentle, the feeble, and the poor, equally, to move
about the island by day or by night; it seldom happening that so great
an enemy to peace and tranquillity appeared among his simple dependants,
as was the fact at this precise moment.

In the mean time, there was not quite as much tranquillity in Porto
Ferrajo as the profound silence which reigned in the place might have
induced a stranger to imagine. Tommaso Tonti was a man of influence,
within his sphere, as well, as the vice-governatore; and having parted
from Vito Viti, as has been related, he sought the little _clientelle _
of padroni and piloti, who were in the habit of listening to his
opinions as if they were oracles. The usual place of resort of this set,
after dark, was a certain house kept by a widow of the name of Benedetta
Galopo, the uses of which were plainly enough indicated by a small bush
that hung dangling from a short pole, fastened above the door. If
Benedetta knew anything of the proverb that "good wine needs no bush,"
she had not suff