"You are," said Soliviac, addressing Naundorff, "a culprit. On my vessel, I administer justice and hold myself accountable only to God. You have constituted yourself the accomplice of a man condemned to death. As you have set him free, 'tis only justice that you should take his place, for his freedom means the death of the rest of us. But before passing sentence, I shall listen to your defence." "Permit me to say--" interposed René, but Soliviac interrupted with firmness: "It is the prisoner who must answer." Naundorff raised his head and replied: "I neither explain my conduct nor excuse myself, I liberated Volpetti because I had the right to do so." "The right!" exclaimed the astounded Carbonari, thinking they heard a lunatic. "Yes, the right," insisted Naundorff. "The right to forgive belongs to the most grievously offended and to none of you has that man brought such evil as to me. Were I to describe what he has made me suffer, you would comprehend the extent of human baseness. But there are no words in which to describe that suffering. He buried me in a dungeon during the best years of my youth; he took my name from me and almost my life; only a few days since he directed the arms of assassins upon me. 'Tis I have the right to forgive him,--I and none other. Be it known to you, Captain Soliviac, that were forgiveness banished from the earth, it should find asylum in my breast. My mission is to forgive; my duty, to prevent, even at the loss of my life, the spilling of a drop of blood. I have finished. Do with me as you will." The Carbonari exchanged looks; in spite of their resentment, Naundorff awed them. At last, Soliviac, somewhat nonplussed exclaimed: "The devil, Monsieur! That speech is very fine, but there are times when forgiveness of one man is condemnation to many others. That man's life costs our death." "And mine also," said Naundorff, tears trickling down his face, "and that of my children." "He raves!" exclaimed Giacinto. "Have we not listened sufficiently long to the drivelings of a madman? I am sorry for this fine young lady, but our business must be dispatched." Soliviac assented and then addressed Naundorff: "We shall believe your story, Monsieur, through an excess of credulity, tho who will assure us that you are not a spy yourself, ingeniously disguised? The case is this: that scoundrel owes you his liberty. How are you to explain that?" Naundorff moved back, and, with deliberate, majestic dignity, removed his hat, cast off his cloak and stepped into the full light of the cabin's lamp. The three Carbonari, completely taken back, uttered a cry of amazement and uncovered in deference to royalty. Chapter VIII THE CAPTAIN