We were standing about the great room next the Audience Chamber entertaining, or rather the centre of interest to, a circle of officials and young nobles who wished to hear of the glory that was attending the Neapolitan arms at Leghorn, when Donna Rusidda crossed the other end of the chamber. Seeing Will she stopped, and with the defiance of all Sicilian precedent which had now become habitual to her, beckoned him, and smiled a lovely welcome as he came up. After a word he went back with her through the side door by which she had entered. You may be sure that I had it all from him before we got back to the ship, for his reticence had given way to a desire to talk of her, which was only bounded by the limits of my patience. "W-Will," she said, "what a long time you have been away! The Queen was here asking for you." Whereupon she tripped away, he following her as he supposed into the Presence! But when the door had closed behind them she gave a merry little laugh, and was, I have no doubt, duly punished for her ruse. But while she was standing with her right wrist in Will's left hand, and her waist against the hollow of his right, very submissively, she opened fire on him. "You wish to serve me, Signor W-Will?" "Not if you address me like that, Princess." "Well, W-Will--dear W-Will." "You know I would risk my life, Rusidda." "Oh, I don't think it is so bad as that. Ruggiero sends my cartels." "Tell me what it is, dear--quickly. You know I will do anything consistent with my duty as a British officer." "It is of your duty as one of the Admiral's fine officers that I am speaking: it is for Her Majesty; and I have heard your Admiral confess unqualified allegiance to her." "What is it, tease?" "I'm not teasing, W-Will. It is really rather a serious question." "What is it?" "Well, you know I can't tell you." "Well, what am I to do, Rusidda?" She disengaged herself gently, submitting with good grace to a caress in the process, and left the room for about a minute. When she came back she gave him his answer. "You are to tell me whose writing this is." At a glance Will saw whose the upright characters, written left-handed, were. "The Admiral's," he answered, with an air of respect to the writing. "Take it." "What am I to do with it? may I read it?" "Oh yes, you may read it, if you can, and give it to the captain of your ship." Will read it out in a slow puzzled way: "'Give the rogue a month for cutting laces.'" "Why, what jest is this, Rusidda?" "I asked you, dear, and you told me, whose writing this is; or am I speaking to a fool, Signor W-Will?" It occurred to Will's practical mind that this was some jest of the feather-brained court, and that the captain of our ship was not a good mark for jests. But he felt the pressure of her hand, and could not resist the eager, lovely face, and promised to deliver it. "Am I to go now?" he asked, rather ruefully. "You need not; but you must be back on shore by nightfall."