Sensation, emotion, awoke from their swooning lapse only in the light of day, the next or another, I knew not which. I was lifted from some conveyance, I saw blue reaches of curving bay and the great purifying priest of flame, and knew I was in the city guarded by its pillar of cloud by day, of fire by night. I had reason to know it, when, yet unfed, unrested, faint, smirched and smeared with blood and travel, loaded with chains, I was brought to a tribunal where sat the sleek and subtle tyrant of Naples. "Signor," said a bland voice from the king's side,--and looking in its direction, I encountered the Neapolitan,--"Signor, I lately said that at some day I would trouble you to repeat a brilliant sentence addressed to me. The day has arrived. I scarcely dared dream it would be so soon. Shall we listen?" I was silent: not that I feared to say it; they could but finish their play. Then I saw the beautifully cut lips of my judge part, that the voice might slide forth, and, taking a comfit, he tittered, with unchanging tint and sweetest tone, the three words, "Apply the question." Why should I endure that for a whim? Who courts torment? Already they drew near with the cunning instruments. Let me say it, and what then? Nothing worse than torture. Let me _not_ say it, and certainly torture. Oh, I was weaker than a child! my body ruled my spirit with its exhaustion and pain. Yet there was a certain satisfaction in flinging the words in their faces. I waved back with my remaining arm the slaves who approached. "You should allow a weary man the time to collect his thoughts," I said, and then turned to my persecutors. "I have spoken with you many times, Signor," I replied to the Neapolitan, "yet of all our words I can remember none but these, that you could care to hear with this auditory. I said,--that the tyrant of Naples walks in blood to his knees!" The Neapolitan smiled. The king rose. "Well said!" he murmured, in his silvery tones. "One that knows so much must know more. Exhaust his knowledge, I pray. Do not spare your courtesies; remember he is my guest. I leave him in your hands." He fixed me with his eye,--that darkly-glazed eye, devoid of life, of love, of joy, as if he were the thing of another element,--then bowed and passed away. "The urbanity of His Majesty is too well known to suppose it possible that he should prove you a liar," said the Neapolitan.