t thou would'st e'en question me! Come hither,
Nettuno; thou shalt answer for both, being a dog of discretion. We are no
go-betweens of heaven and earth, thou knowest, but creatures that come
part of the water and part of the land!"

The Italian spoke loud and confidently, and to the manner of one who
addressed himself more to the humors of those near than to the
understanding of the Genevese. He laughed, and looked about him in a
manner to extract an echo from the crowd, though not one among them all
could probably have given a sufficient reason why he had so readily taken
part with the stranger against the authorities of the town, unless it
might have been from the instinct of opposition to the law.

"Thou hast a name?" continued the half-yielding, half-doubting guardian of
the port.

"Dost take me to be worse off than the bark of Baptiste, there? I have
papers, too, if thou wilt that I go to the vessel in order to seek them.
This dog is Nettuno, a brute from a far country, where brutes swim like
fishes, and my name is Maso, though wicked-minded men call me oftener Il
Maledetto than by any other title."

All in the throng, who understood the signification of what the Italian
said, laughed aloud, and apparently with great glee, for, to the grossly
vulgar, extreme audacity has an irresistible charm. The officer felt that
the merriment was against him, though he scarce knew why; and ignorant of
the language in which the other had given his extraordinary appellation,
he yielded to the contagion, and laughed with the others, like one who
understood the joke to the bottom. The Italian profited by this advantage,
nodded familiarly with a good-natured and knowing smile, and proceeded.
Whistling the dog to his side, he walked leisurely to the bark, into which
he was the first that entered, always preserving the deliberation and calm
of a man who felt himself privileged, and safe from farther molestation.
This cool audacity effected its purpose, though one long and closely
hunted by the law evaded the authorities of the town, when this singular
being took his seat by the little package which contained his scanty
wardrobe.

Chapter II.

"My nobiel liege! all my request
Ys for a nobile knyghte,
Who, tho' mayhap he has done wronge,
Hee thoughte ytt stylle was righte."

Chatterton.

While this impudent evasion of vigilance was successfully practised by so
old an offender, the trio of sentinels, with t