Cuffe stood confounded. The blood rushed to his heart; after which, it appeared as if about to gush through the pores of his face. A feeling of fierce resentment almost consumed him; then he became himself again, and began to see things as was his wont in cooler moments. Still he could not speak, pacing the cabin to recover his self-command. "Monsieur Yvard," he at length said, "I ask your forgiveness sincerely, and from the bottom of my heart. I did not know you, or such a proposal would never have insulted you, or disgraced a British officer, in my person. Nelson, too, is the last man living to wound the feelings of an honorable enemy; but we did not know you. All privateersmen are not of your way of thinking, and it was _there_ we fell into our mistake." "_Touchez-la_," said Raoul, frankly extending his hand. "Monsieur le Capitaine, you and I ought to meet in two fine frigates, each for his country's honor; let what would be the result, it would lay the foundations of an eternal friendship. I have lived long enough in _votre Angleterre_ to understand how little you know _notre France; mais n'importe._ Brave men can understand one another all over the world; for the little time which is left me, we shall be friends." Cuffe seized Raoul's hand, and even a tear escaped him, as he squeezed it warmly. "This has been a d--d miserable business, Griffin," said the captain, as soon as he could speak without betraying weakness, "and one no man will ever find me employed in again, though a fleet as large as that up in the Bay yonder were the price." "I never thought it would succeed, sir; and, to say the truth, I never hoped it would. You'll excuse me, Captain Cuffe, but we English don't give the continentals exactly the credit they deserve, and particularly the French. I thought it wouldn't do, from the first." Cuffe now repeated his apologies; and after a few expressions of friendly esteem on both sides, Raoul returned to his little room, declining the captain's offer to occupy one of the cabin state-rooms. Griffin was soon back again; then the conversation was resumed between the two officers. "This is altogether a most painful business, Griffin," observed Cuffe, "There is no doubt that Monsieur Yvard is technically a spy, and guilty, according to the forms of law; but I entertain not the smallest doubt of the truth of his whole story. This Ghita Caraccioli, as the girl calls herself, is the very picture of truth; and was actually in Nelson's cabin the day before yesterday, under circumstances that leave no doubt of the simplicity and truth of her character, while every part of the tale corresponds with the other. Even the veechy, and this pursy old podestà, confirm the account; for they have seen Ghita in Porto Ferrajo, and begin to think the Frenchman came in there solely on her account."