"Cospetto! of a padre! Signor Vice-governatore," interrupted the podestà--"it is most indecent to _own_ it. A priest must be possessed of the devil himself to _own_ his issue; though issue he may certainly have." "There, again, good Vito, it is different with the Luterani and us Catholics. The priests of England, you will please remember, marry, while ours do not." "I should not like to be shrived by such a padre! The man would be certain to tell his wife all I confessed; and the saints could only say what would be the end on't. Porto Ferrajo would soon be too hot to hold an honest man--aye, or even an honest woman in the bargain." "But the Luterani do not confess, and are never shrived at all, you will remember." "San Stefano!--How do they expect, then, ever to get to heaven?" "I will not answer that they do, friend Vito--and we are certain that if they _have_ such expectations they must be most treacherous to them. But, talking of this Sir Smees, you perceive in his air and manner the finesse of the Anglo-Saxon race; which is a people altogether distinct from the ancient Gauls, both in history and character. Pietro Giannone, in his _Storia, Civile del Regno di Napoli_, speaks of the Normans, who were a branch of these adventurers, with great interest and particularity; and I think I can trace in this youth some of the very peculiarities that are so admirably delineated in his well-told but too free writings. Well, Pietro; I was not speaking of thee, but of a namesake of thine, of the family of Giannone, an historian of Naples, of note and merit--what is thy will?" This question was put to a servant, who entered at that moment, holding in his hand a piece of paper, which he desired to lay before his master. "A cavaliere is without, Signor Andrea, who asks the honor of an audience, and who sends in his name, as your eccellenza will find it on this paper." The vice-governatore took the slip of paper and read aloud: "Edward Griffin, tenente della marina Inglesa." "Ah! here is an officer sent from 'ze Ving-y-Ving' with some communication, friend Vito; it is fortunate you are still here to hear what he has to say. Show the lieutenant in, Pietro." One who understood Englishmen better than Andrea Barrofaldi would have been satisfied at a glance that he who now entered was really a native of that country. He was a young man of some two or three and twenty, of a ruddy, round, good-natured face, wearing an undress coat of the service to which he professed to belong, and whose whole air and manner betrayed his profession quite as much as his country. The salutations he uttered were in very respectable Italian, familiarity with the language being the precise reason why he had been selected for the errand on which he had come. After these salutations he put a piece of parchment into Andrea's hand, remarking: "If you read English, Signore, you will perceive by that commission I am the person I represent myself to be."