ettuno!"

The stillness was now imposing, and Maso heard the dog growl. This
ill-omened signal was undeniably followed by smothered voices. The latter
became clearer, as if the mocking winds were willing that a sad exhibition
of human frailty should be known, or, what is more probable, violent
passion had awakened stronger powers of speech. This much the mariner
understood.

"Loosen thy grasp, accursed Baptiste!"

"Wretch, loosen thine own!"

"Is God naught with thee?"

"Why dost throttle so, infernal Nicklaus?"

"Thou wilt die damned!"

"Thou chokest--villain--pardon!--pardon!"

He heard no more. The merciful elements interposed to drown the appalling
strife. Once or twice the dog howled, but the tempest came across the
Leman again in its might, as if the short pause had been made merely to
take breath. The winds took a new direction; and the bark, still held by
its anchors, swung wide off from its former position, tending in towards
the mountains of Savoy. During the first burst of this new blast, even
Maso was glad to crouch to the deck, for millions of infinitely fine
particles were lifted from the lake, and driven on with the atmosphere
with a violence to take away his breath. The danger of being swept before
the furious tide of the driving element was also an accident not
impossible. When the lull returned, no exertion of his faculties could
catch a single sound foreign to the proper character of the scene, such as
the plash of the water, and the creaking of the long, swinging yards.

The mariner now felt a deep concern for his dog. He called to him until he
grew hoarse, but fruitlessly. The change of position, with the constant
and varying drift of the vessel, had carried them beyond the reach of the
human voice. More time was expended in summoning "Nettuno! gallant
Nettuno!" than had been consumed in the passage of all the events which it
has been necessary to our object to relate so minutely, and always with
the same want of success. The mind of Maso was pitched to a degree far
above the opinions and habits of those with whom his life brought him
ordinarily in contact, but as even fine gold will become tarnished by
exposure to impure air, he had not entirely escaped the habitual
weaknesses of the Italians of his class. When he found that no cry could
recall his faithful companion, he threw himself upon the deck in a
paroxysm of passion, tore his hair, and wept audibly.

"Nettuno! my brave, my faithf