"I can't see it," said Troubridge. "Why don't they fight like men, and maintain their independence against all comers, instead of for ever betraying the weakening power?" "With you there; but it's just what they can't do. These fellows have no fight in them, but when they have a strong foreigner at their back. They are mere camp-followers. The army has to be supplied from elsewhere." "They aren't worth thinking about, my Lord: the only thing to do is to catch the traitors who have led them and string them up; and I should like to tie every one of them up to the gratings before I hung them." "But I wish something could be done for this Count of Tanagra. He was a brave man, though misguided, and could have brought the best of those who were with him back to be faithful servants of the King; they have seen too much of the French ever to want any more of them. The first thing the French did was to strip their own friends of nearly everything they possessed to satisfy the greed of their soldiers, till they should have time to conquer their enemies." "You can't trust them, my Lord; you can't trust any of them." "I have pretty good reason for trusting this one. I suspect we owe our lives to him; and he certainly saved my daughter from the insults of the French." "Indeed, the kindness of this gentleman knew no bounds," burst in Katherine, "for he kept us prisoners for our own safety in his palace. He was living in his own palace until the city was invested by the fleet; and then, for our greater safety, he bore us first to one of the castles, and, when they were bombarded, up to this fortress--for the French would not have anything but French in the Citadel itself." "Quite right too," snorted out our Captain; "a Neapolitan would sell his own home to the enemy." "Well, when he came down to you this morning he was hoping to have made terms with you, by which he, and those of his mind, could have returned to the service of their Majesties, and kept us in safety until they were strengthened by the forces from the ships. But since you would grant no terms, and he had no mercy to hope from those of the King's party to whom he was well known as the most daring of the gunboat officers, he had to save himself and his comrades by marching out before you came in." "My dear young lady, in the time of war we can only deal with general rules, and not particular instances. I am convinced that our great Admiral is right in proclaiming no terms for the Jacobins, or in this land of liars there would not be a rebel to hang in all Naples." "_He_ is no Jacobin," she said hotly. "I have had many conversations with him since I have been his prisoner." (She had her Italian from Will's mother, which accounted partly for another circumstance.)