er had found them," interposed the
Princess, coldly. "Is this curiosity of yours all your business?"

The General met her look frankly. If annoyed, he hid his annoyance.

"O Princess," answered he, "I will own that Corsica has left the
Queen, your mother, overlong here in captivity. For reasons of state
it was decided to work northward from point to point, clearing the
Genoese as we went. We did not reckon that, before we reached
Giraglia, an Englishman of genius would step in to anticipate us.
Our hopes, Princess, fell short of an event so happy. But I can say
that every Corsican is glad, and would wish to be such a hero."

"Did you, then, clear the Genoese from Nonza?" I put in hastily,
noting the curl of my mistress's lips.

"Sir, there were no Genoese to clear. We bombarded it idly, only to
learn that the Commandant Fornari had abandoned it some hours before;
that he and his men had escaped northward in long boats, rowing close
under the land."

I glanced at the Princess, and saw her mouth whiten. "Excuse me," I
said. "Do you tell me that the whole garrison of Nonza had escaped?"

"Unfortunately, yes." Paoli, too, glanced at the Princess; but for an
instant only. "We landed after the fortress had fired one single gun
at us, which we silenced. Beside it we found two men standing at
bay; its only defenders; and they, strange to tell, were Corsicans.
I have brought them with me on my own ship."

"You need not tell me their names," said I.

"My brother?" the Princess gasped. "Where is my brother?"

The General lowered his eyes. "I regret to tell you, Princess, that
your brother has fallen into our enemies' hands. They have carried
him north, to Genoa, and with him the Priest who was his confessor.
This I learned from your two heroes, who had entered Nonza with no
other purpose than to rescue him, but had arrived too late.
They shall be brought ashore, that you may question them.

"But what is this?" said a voice from the turret-door behind us.
"My son Camillo a prisoner, and in Genoa!"

We turned all, to see the Queen standing there, on the threshold.
The Princess, suddenly pallid, shot a look at Paoli--a look which at
once defied and implored him.

"It is true, dear mother," said she, steadying her voice.

"God help us all!" The Queen clasped her hands. "The Genoese have no
pity."

"Let your Majesty be reassured," said Paoli, slowly, "The Genoese, to
be sure, have no pity; yet I can almo