"How happens it, then, that you bear the distinguished name of Caraccioli, signorina?" "I dare say, Mr. Medford," observed Cuffe, in English, of course, "that the young woman doesn't know herself whence she got the name. These matters are managed very loosely in Italy." "Signore," resumed Ghita, earnestly, after waiting respectfully for the captain to get through, "I bear the name of my father, as is usual with children, but it is a name on which a heavy disgrace has fallen so lately as yesterday; _his_ father having been a sight for the thousands of Naples to gaze on, as his aged body hung at the yard of one of your ships." "And do you claim to be the grand-daughter of that unfortunate admiral?" "So I have been taught to consider myself; may his soul rest in a peace that his foes would not grant to his body! That criminal, as you doubtless believe him, was my father's father, though few knew it, when he was honored as a prince and a high officer of the king's." A deep silence followed; the singularity of the circumstance, and the air of truth which pervaded the manner of the girl, uniting to produce a profound sensation. "The admiral had the reputation of being childless," observed Cuffe, in an undertone. "Doubtless this girl's father has been the consequence of some irregular connection." "If there has been a promise or any words of recognition uttered before witnesses," muttered Lyon, "accordin' to the laws of Scotland, issue and a few pairtenant expressions will splice a couple as strongly as ye'll be doing it in England before either of the archbishops." "As this is Italy, it is not probable that the same law rules here. Proceed, Mr. Judge Advocate." "Well, Ghita Caraccioli--if that be your name--I wish to know if you have any acquaintance with a certain Raoul Yvard, a Frenchman, and the commander of a private lugger-of-war, called le Feu-Follet? Remember, you are sworn to tell the truth, the _whole_ truth, and nothing but the truth." Ghita's heart beat violently, and the color came into her face with the impetuosity of sensitive alarm. She had no knowledge of courts, and the object of the inquiry was unknown to her. Then followed the triumph of innocence; the purity of her mind and the quiet of her conscience reassuring her by bringing the strong conviction that she had no reason to blush for any sentiment she might happen to entertain. "Signore," she said, dropping her eyes to the floor, for the gaze of all the court was fastened on her face--"I _am_ aquainted with Raoul Yvard, the person you mention; this is he who sits between those two cannon. He is a Frenchman, and he _does_ command the lugger called the Feu-Follet." "I knew we should get it all by this witness!" exclaimed Cuffe, unable to suppress the relief he felt at obtaining the required testimony. "You say that you know this of your own knowledge," resumed the Judge Advocate--