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Chapter Four.

There is an old saying, that, “Give a dog a bad name, it is sure to stick by him.” On this account I suppose it is that Jews are always considered rogues. I am very far from saying that they really are so invariably, or even generally. On the contrary, I believe that there are a great number of very honest, generous, kind-hearted, hard-working people among them in all countries where they enjoy the privileges of free men.

That, in those times and countries where they have been treated as worse than slaves, despised, insulted, and robbed on every occasion, they should have become, what they are often described as being, is not only not surprising, but is according to the laws which govern mankind. Tyranny and wrong, invariably make the people, who submit to them, grow mean, treacherous, and false. Cut off from all honourable pursuits, they have recourse to such as are within their power; and thus the Jews, who were unable to hold even land in their possession, became the money-makers; and, consequently, moneylenders of the world – and, as they were frequently pillaged and deprived by extortion of their wealth, they naturally endeavoured to regain, by every means left to them, that of which they had been robbed.

Now, though there are many Jews whose upright conduct is sufficient to retrieve the characters of their whole people, such cannot be said for the old Maltese Jew, Aaron Bannech. He was a rogue ingrain. To lie, cheat, and rob, where he could do so without risk of detection, was his occupation and delight. Lying, cheating, and robbery, were in him a second nature. He considered them not only lawful, but praiseworthy employments. He could not help lying and cheating if he tried. By so doing, he had heaped up hoards of wealth – he had raised himself from abject penury, and how could he be expected to persuade his conscience, or what stood him in place of one, that he had not been acting rightly. True his gold was of no real use to him – he had no one to enjoy it with him – he had no relative to whom he could leave it. Some might say that it would serve to repurchase Judea for his people; but he cared no more for Judea than he did for Home. He would not have parted with a sixpence to rebuild Jerusalem, unless he could have got a very large interest for his money – indeed he would probably have required very sufficient security, before he would have consented to part with it. His appearance was far from peculiar or striking as he sat in a dingy underground den, which he appeared to have burrowed out for himself beneath the groaning walls of one of the old mansions of Valetta. He had sharp, ferrety eyes, a hooked nose, and a long, dirty, grey beard; indeed, no difference could be discerned between him and his countrymen employed in selling old clothes in London. He wore a brown cap on his head, anila, long serge overcoat, the colour of which it was impossible to determine; and a pair of slippers, which had once been yellow, but were now stained with many a varied tinge. The chamber in which he sat was fitted up with a desk, and a table covered with packages of papers and account-books, two high stools, and three or four rickety chairs. He was by himself, waiting in expectation of the arrival of the Greek. The time appointed had already passed, and he was beginning to think that some accident must have occurred to his acquaintance. Ten minutes more elapsed – his suspicions increased.

“Can the myrmidons of the law have got hold of him?” he muttered. “That rascal Giacomo – he may have informed, and will receive the reward which ought to be mine. If I dared, I would secure the prize at once – but then, I suspect, before long, the amount will be increased. Yes, it must be. The fruit is not yet ripe for plucking.”

He stopped, either to chuckle at his own wit, or to calculate the sum he might expect for betraying the man who trusted him. His virtuous meditations were interrupted by the entrance of the Greek. His manner was as free and joyous as ever. He addressed the Jew in Italian, with a remarkably pure accent.

“Ah! my dear correspondent – my noble friend – my prince of money-lenders, how fares it with you? Still at the old trade of coining gold, eh? Well, we must all live either by fraud or force; cunning or strength are the weapons put by nature into our hands. To some she gives one; to others the latter: nature is most impartial. To the lion she gives claws and teeth; to the horse his hoofs and fleetness. To a woman, beauty and softness; to a man, strength and courage. She intends all these attributes to be employed. So, friend Bannech, you live by fraud, and I by force. Is it not so?”

“I cannot dispute the correctness of your assertion: for, to say the truth, you have spoken so rapidly, that my poor comprehension could not follow you, noble signor,” said the Jew, bending low, and placing a chair for his visitor. “But may I inquire what thus unexpectedly brings you to Malta?”

“Pleasure, Bannech – pleasure, and, perhaps, the hopes of a little profit,” said the Greek, laughing. “Now, though I may not just yet tell you what brings me to Malta, I will tell you a little more of my history than you are at present acquainted with. Know, then, most worthy Jew, that I am, by name, Argiri Caramitzo, a patriot Greek chief, or prince, call me, of Graditza. That I have been educated in Italy – that years have passed since I set foot in my native land – and that I am now hastening thither to join in the noble struggle to emancipate Greece from the thraldom of the infidel Turk. I have travelled from that city of learning and piety, Pisa, to Naples, thence to Syracuse; and from that ancient city, I have crossed the sea hither. All this you must remember, Bannech, should you be questioned.”

“I will not forget it, most noble prince,” said the Jew, bending his head. “I like the story much. It has a probability about it which cannot fail to make it be believed – an essential point too frequently overlooked by bunglers in lying.”

“I am glad you like it,” observed the Greek, or prince – as we may now call him. He took no notice of the last, not very flattering, observation of the Jew. “But now, Bannech, I wish to know what vessels are sailing hence for Greece, as I desire, you must remember, to secure a passage by one of them.”

The Jew looked at him for a moment, doubting whether he was in earnest.

“Oh, I understand,” he said at length. “Why, there are several sailing in the course of a few days, but the one which will best suit your purpose quits the harbour to-morrow. She carries passengers – one of whom an English colonel is said to be rich, so he will doubtless have a store of gold on board. He has a daughter or niece with him, who is reported handsome. If she was, by chance, to fall into the hands of such gentry, as we wot of, she would gain them a large amount for her ransom. The vessel I speak of is the Zodiac, John Bowse, master.”

“I passed her as we entered the harbour,” remarked the Greek. “I will go on board this very evening. But I wish to know more about her passengers. Could not they be induced to carry a large amount of gold with them? It would be very convenient. Tell me, how can I become acquainted with them?”

The Jew shook his head.

“I do not know how it can be managed. These English people, with their proud manners, do not like making the acquaintance of foreigners of whose history they are ignorant.”

“Do not tell me that it cannot be done,” exclaimed the Greek impatiently. “I tell you, signor, that you must find means of doing it. Surely a Greek prince would not be refused admittance into the best society of an insignificant island dependency like this.”

“There are a great many arrant rogues bearing that title,” said the Jew, his eyes twinkling as he spoke. “And among the English here the rank alone does not bear much weight. You should have letters of introduction, and how they are to be procured, I cannot say.”

“How they are to be procured! Why, forge them to be sure, my friend,” exclaimed the Greek. “Nothing is so easy. Come, come, you are well accustomed to the work, I know.”

“Oh, father Abraham, suppose I was to be discovered!” ejaculated the Jew. “My credit would be gone, and I should be completely ruined and undone.”

“Oh, no fear of that, while your wits are as keen as at present,” said the Greek. “Come, has not the colonel some acquaintance or other in Italy, who would be likely to introduce a distinguished foreigner, his friend, visiting the island, or do you know of some other person to whom a letter of introduction might be addressed?”

The Jew meditated for some time, and if with any other sensation than that of grasping avarice, and all its accompanying hopes and fears, it was with that of admiration for the Greek’s daring and versatility of talent. He was thinking of the value of which they might be to himself.

“I have it,” he exclaimed. “There is a client of mine, a young spendthrift, who has lived much in Italy, and many of whose acquaintance I know. Stay, I have a letter by me from his friend the Count Montebello of Florence. He shall be your introducer. Do you know him?”

“I know nothing of him,” said the Greek, “make me a friend of his friend. It will be safer and will be sufficient.”

“Excellent, excellent,” exclaimed the Jew, chuckling at the thoughts of the fraud. “You should have been bred a lawyer instead of a sailor, prince. Now, remember, this client of mine is acquainted with Colonel Gauntlett, and is, indeed, a suitor of his niece’s, for the sake of the money he expects she will receive from her uncle. You will know how to talk to him.”

“Admirable! My plan must prosper. There is a ball, too, I understand to-night, at which I suppose all the principal people in the place will be present, and among them, the colonel, his niece, and my new friend. I must be prepared for the occasion; so, friend Bannech, send for the best tailor in the place forthwith; for it will never do to appear in this barbarian costume.”

The Greek having thus fully concocted his plan, overruled all the objections thrown out by the Jew, and, as he was a man of action, he insisted on a tailor being instantly sent for. In ten minutes afterwards the well-known artist Paolo Muhajiar made his appearance, and, though he was somewhat astounded at the shortness of the time allowed him to rig the Greek stranger in a suit of mufti, a show of some broad gold pieces overcame all difficulties, and he promised to set every hand at his establishment on to the work.

Little did the honest Paolo dream, as with a profound bow, he gathered up his measures and patterns, and took his departure, who was the distinguished foreigner for whom he was about to labour. The Greek desiring the Jew to detain the beggar Giacomo till his return, with a triumphant look soon after set out to inspect the good brig the Zodiac.

Argiri Caramitzo was a man who hated inactivity; he was never happy except he was in motion, and never contented unless he had a prospect of change before him. Born in England, he would have been a universal philanthropist or a radical reformer, or an inventor of patent machines, or, in late days, a railroad projector; he would have employed his time in haranguing popular assemblies on the rights of man, and the freedom of religion, and he would have been a loud advocate of the cause of the Poles, and Greeks, and Hungarians; but, as he happened to have been born in Greece, he cared not a jot for the Greeks, and employed his talents, sharpened by use, in making a fortune in the way most clearly open to him, and most suited to his taste.

He now hurried down to the quay, off which he saw Manuel at his post, waiting for his return. He beckoned him to approach, and, taking his seat, ordered him to pull alongside the English brig the Zodiac; he soon stood on her deck, to the no small astonishment of Captain Bowse, who had just before got on board. It may be supposed that they would have had no little difficulty in understanding each other; but there is a lingua Franca used in the Mediterranean, which all mariners, who traverse that sea, very quickly pick up; and, what with that and the aid of signs, they made themselves tolerably intelligible to each other; at all events the Greek learned all he wished to know; even before he had spoken, his quick glance had made him acquainted with the armament of the vessel, and her probable seaworthy qualities. His foot, too, as he walked aft, happened to strike one of the carronades, the look of which he considered suspicious, and he smiled as he found that it was of wood. He soon made known his object in visiting the ship; he was looking out for a passage to Greece by some vessel shortly to sail thither, and, as the appearance of the Zodiac pleased him, he should like to engage a cabin on board her.

“Cannot, though, receive you on board, sir; sorry for it: but all my accommodation is taken up by an English colonel and his family, and he would not allow anybody else on board, even if it was the Pope himself,” answered Captain Bowse.

“But I am not at all particular as to the sort of accommodation you can find for me,” urged the Greek. “I have been at sea before, and can rough it as well as any of you mariners.”

“No matter, Mr Prince; the colonel would not allow any stranger on board, so, with all the will in the world to serve you, I cannot do it.”

“But suppose the colonel should not object, would you then receive me?” asked the stranger.

“That would alter the case, sir, and we would rig you up the best berth we could manage,” answered Captain Bowse.

“So far, so good,” said the Greek. “About the passage-money we shall not disagree; but tell me of what does your cargo consist? I have the greatest horror of sleeping over gunpowder, or anything likely to explode.”

“Oh, we have no gunpowder except a few charges for our guns there; but we have some cases of muskets consigned to a merchant at Cephalonia, and which will, I suspect, soon find their way over to your friends on the main; and we have besides an assortment of hard goods, and of silks and clothes, and cottons, and such things, indeed, as would only be shipped in a sound ship – high up in Lloyd’s list, let me tell you, sir. There isn’t a finer craft out of London than the Zodiac, and none but a good ship would have weathered the gale we fell in with t’other day, though, as it was, we met with a little damage, which made us put in here to repair.”

“I have no doubt of the Zodiac’s good qualities, and I hope that I may yet have the satisfaction of proving them,” said the Greek, as he stepped over the side. “Adieu, captain; a prosperous voyage whether I sail with you or not.”

Chapter Five.

A grand ball was taking place at the Auberge de Provence, in the Strada Reale, at Valetta. All the rank and fashion of the city were assembled. They consisted of the naval, military, and civil officers of the crown stationed there, their wives and daughters; a few English visitors attracted to the island to recruit their health, or to indulge their curiosity; and some foreigners, illustrious and otherwise, who had come there chiefly on the latter account; though a small portion might have been travelling diplomatists or scientific savants. Few ball-rooms could display a larger number of glittering uniforms, both naval, military, and consular; and there was a very fair proportion of beauty among the younger ladies, and diamonds among the dowagers. The soldiers certainly took the lead. They consider that possession is nine parts of the law; and thus as they live in the island, while their naval brethren are merely visitors, they could not help feeling their superiority. Captains of line-of-battle ships and frigates are, of course, however, held in high consideration by the fair sex; but midshipmen were sadly at a discount; and even lieutenants, unless they happened to have handles to their names, or uncles in the ministry, were very little thought of. Such was the case at the time of which I write. I suspect very little alteration has, since then, taken place.

So our two young friends, Jack Raby and Jemmy Duff, seemed to feel as they sauntered into the ball-room, and cast their eyes round in a somewhat unusually bashful manner, in search of any young lady who would deign to bestow a bow on them, and accept them as partners. At last, Jemmy Duff exchanged a nod and a smile with the little Maltese girl who had before attracted him, and he was soon, according to his own fashion, engaged in making desperate love to her, evidently as much to her amusement as to his satisfaction. Poor Raby stood looking on, and could scarcely help feeling jealous at his friend’s good fortune; for not a single lady did he know in the room, when a hand was placed on his shoulder. He looked up, and a bright smile irradiated his countenance as he saw who it was.

“What, Raby, don’t you intend to show some of these fair ladies how well the Ione lads can kick their heels?”

The speaker was a young, intelligent-looking man, with a complexion which would have been fair, had it not been sunburnt, with thick, light, curling hair. He was strongly but gracefully made, of the ordinary height, and would have been by every one considered good looking; his forehead and mouth were decidedly handsome, the latter expressing great firmness, at the same time a great amiability of disposition. His dress was that of a commander in the navy.

“I can’t get a partner, sir,” answered the midshipman; “I don’t know a lady in the room.”

“Oh! we will soon find you one. I must not have my boys thought to be misanthropic.”

“Captain Fleetwood,” said a lady near, “can you introduce a partner to my niece?”

“Oh, certainly,” answered the officer, seizing Jack Raby by the arm, “allow me to introduce Mr Raby, of her Majesty’s brig Ione, who will be happy to dance the next quadrille with you.”

The young lady to whom he spoke, smiled, and said she should be very happy; but the aunt made a wry face, and observed that she intended to have asked him to introduce his friend, Major White of the – .

“I hope my young friend, Raby, will do as well. He is a nephew of Lord – ,” observed Captain Fleetwood, in a slightly satirical tone. “I will bring up White, in tow, to your ladyship, as soon as I can sight him.”

Captain Fleetwood was always more thoroughly nautical in his mode of expression at Malta than in any other place.

“Oh, certainly, I am most happy to know any of your officers, especially a nephew of Lord – , whose brother is a great friend of my husband’s cousin.”

Captain Fleetwood might have made a rejoinder; but at that moment his eye glanced towards the door, at which was entering a stout, oldish gentleman, in plain clothes, and hanging on his arm, a fair, young, and very pretty and interesting girl. He instantly hurried forward, and claimed her hand for the next dance, which, with one of the sweetest possible smiles, she promised to give him, while the old gentleman, though he nodded to him, evidently regarded him with far from amiable feelings.

The young officer, however, who appeared accustomed to the old man’s surly looks, and indifferent to them, remained by her side, and engaged her in an animated conversation. At last her companion lost all patience, and tugging at her arm, he exclaimed, —

“Come along, Ada, we must look for a seat somewhere till the dancing begins, for I cannot undertake to stand on my legs all night. Captain Fleetwood, you will find Miss Garden at the farther end of the room, probably, when you wish to claim her hand for the next quadrille; but as she is soon to commence a long sea voyage, I cannot allow her to fatigue herself by dancing much this evening.”

Colonel Gauntlett, for the speaker was the uncle of Ada Garden, said this in a grave, cold tone, sufficient to freeze the heart of any ordinary lover; and, pressing his niece’s arm as if to prevent her from escaping, he dragged her through the crowd towards a seat which he found vacant.

“Ada,” said the colonel, as he walked on, “I will not have you intimate with any of those sea officers. I cannot bear them, from the highest to the lowest. One of them had the impertinence to interfere between me and a lady to whom I was paying my addresses. By Jove, miss, he carried her off before my eyes. I have hated them ever since, with their easy-going, devil-me-care ways.”

“But surely, uncle, you would not make all suffer for the fault of one; and I suppose your rival loved the lady,” urged Ada.

“Love her, I suppose he did love her; but he had no business to do so, I tell you. I already looked upon her as my wife!” exclaimed the colonel, stamping down his stick vehemently on the floor, and speaking so loud that several people must have heard him.

“But did the lady confess her affection for you, uncle?” asked his niece.

“Confess her love! – why, ay, no – that is, I never asked her; or, rather, she took it into her head to refuse me altogether.”

Fleetwood was about to follow, but he suddenly stopped.

“It will only enrage the old man, and excite suspicions in his mind. Perhaps he will insult me to get rid of me altogether, – I had better not.”

Ada found herself seated next to Lady Marmion, with whose niece Jack Raby was dancing. Her attention was easily riveted by the praises which her ladyship lavished on Captain Fleetwood, and the secret of her affection, if secret it could be called, was easily penetrated by the astute dame.

“Now, my dear, you know I like him, though I do not like the navy in general. Their coats smell of tar and cockroaches, and their conversation is all about their ships and their adventures at sea and on shore; and then you know they are generally so poor, that it is dangerous to let a girl talk to them. Captain Fleetwood is not very rich, I believe; but then he has prospects, and they should be taken into consideration.”

“I really do not know,” said Ada. “It never occurred to me to calculate the fortunes of the gentlemen with whom I am acquainted.”

“Oh, you will grow more prudent, my dear, some day,” observed her ladyship. “But who can that particularly handsome man be walking this way, with Captain Dunnup? By the way, my dear, I should recommend you to keep that Captain Dunnup at a distance. I gave Jane the same advice, for you know he has entirely run through his property; and they say, besides, that he is completely in the hands of the Jews. Dear me, here he comes with the stranger.”

As she spoke, two gentlemen were advancing towards the spot where she and Ada Garden were sitting. The one she alluded to was a dissipated-looking young man, though with a well-bred air, and rather handsome. The other was decidedly so – indeed, he might well have been considered the handsomest man in the room. There was a noble and independent air, and a free-born grace about him – so all the ladies declared – which would have made him anywhere distinguished. His features were dark, and of the purest classical model; his eyes were large and sparkling, and a long silky black moustache shaded his lip. His costume was simple and correct, from his well-fitting black coat to his trousers, which showed off the shape of his handsome leg, and his silk stockings, and low, well-polished shoes. The most severe critic could not have found the slightest fault with him, except perhaps that his coat shone too much, as if it was just out of the tailor’s hands.

“Permit me to introduce to your ladyship, my friend, Prince Argiri Caramitzo,” said Captain Dunnup, advancing and presenting the stranger, who bowed gracefully.

“And may I, Miss Garden, be allowed to introduce him to you?” he continued. “Although a Greek, he speaks Italian like a native, in which language I know that you, also, are a proficient.”

Both ladies bowed their heads, and signified their pleasure in knowing the Prince Caramitzo. He, in his turn, in very pure Italian, expressed his still greater gratification at the honour he enjoyed.

While he was speaking, Dunnup caught Colonel Gauntlett’s eye fixed on him, and it occurred to him that he should introduce his friend. He accordingly took him up, and introduced him in form.

“The prince is going eastward, colonel, and as you will probably meet again in the classic land of Greece, if you do not rather journey together, I feel that you should become acquainted.”

As Colonel Gauntlett rather liked the look of the stranger, he condescended to be civil to him; but as he did not speak a word of Romaic, and as his Italian was very indifferent, and his French worse, Argiri Caramitzo could scarcely understand what he said. He, however, made a polite speech full of complimentary phrases in return, and then, bowing, went back to talk to the ladies.

The handsome stranger judged that he should more speedily gain all the information he required from the niece, and might afterwards, through her, if he found it requisite, persuade the colonel to do what he desired. He found on his return that Miss Garden had been led out to dance by Captain Fleetwood, so he sat himself down to play the agreeable to Lady Marmion, and to glean from her much which he wished to know about the politics of Valetta, and which she was too happy to impart.

We, however, must follow Captain Fleetwood and Miss Garden. There was no doubt of their being lovers, by the confiding way in which she rested on his arm, and glanced up into his face as he spoke; and the look of proud happiness with which he regarded her, and seemed to defy the world to venture on the experiment of tearing her from him. Everybody observed it but Colonel Gauntlett, and he remained obstinately blind to what had taken place.

“My beloved Ada, this is the last time that I may have an opportunity of speaking to you,” said Fleetwood, as, the dance being over, he led her to an open balcony which looked out on the moonlit harbour. “You know how ardently I love you, and that willingly would I sacrifice all the prospect of your uncle’s property, if he would give his consent to our union; but I would not urge you to act in opposition to his wishes – yet there is a time when obedience ceases to be a duty, and that time must come when he obstinately refuses to give you to me.”

“He will not, he cannot do so, when he knows how dearly, how deeply you love me.” She spoke according to the dictates of her own heart; nor was she, however, wrong.

“Then this very night, or to-morrow morning, before you sail, I will ask you from him, and as soon as I pay off the Ione, which I shall probably do in the course of two months, I will come back and claim you. Shall I do so, dearest?”

“Oh, yes! do, Charles. It is the only way, and, believe me, whatever is the result, I will be faithful to you. While you claim me, I will never marry another.”

“I cannot ask more, and yet I could not demand less without contemplating an event which would wring my heart with anguish,” exclaimed Fleetwood, pressing her hand to his lips. “I think, however, we may before that time again meet – I expect to be sent to Greece, and shall contrive to visit Cephalonia.”

For some time longer the lovers talked on without taking note of its flight, when they were disagreeably interrupted by the voice of the colonel inquiring for Ada.

“Come here, miss,” he exclaimed. “Here has been Prince Caramitzo waiting for the last quarter of an hour to lead you out to dance, and you were nowhere to be found – I will not have it.” And he looked a black thundercloud at Fleetwood. “Come, Signior Principe, there is your partner ready for you.”

The prince, comprehending his meaning more by his action than his words, stepped forward, and, with a profound bow, offered his arm, which Ada, giving a glance of regret at Fleetwood, was obliged to accept. The prince was not a man, it appeared, to allow a lady to feel annoyed in his society. He first paid her a slight and delicate compliment on her beauty, which he introduced in a description of his own countrywomen and the Italians. He told her how much he admired all he had heard of England, and seen of Malta; he drew out her opinion on several subjects, and a little account of her life, and then excited her curiosity about himself.

“But how is it that, being a Greek, you speak Italian so well?” she asked.

This was just what he expected; he wished to tell her his history, but could not volunteer to do so.

“Ah, signora, it is a long story, and would fatigue you; but thus much I may tell you: – You know the misery, the abject slavery to which my beautiful, my noble country was so long subjected beneath the iron despotism of the infidel Turks. Our fathers contrived to live under it, or the present race would not have been born to avenge them. We were rapidly becoming extinct as a nation; our religion languished – our education was totally neglected. My father, however, the late Prince of Graditza, also Argiri Caramitzo, was a man superior to those around him, and determining that I, his eldest son, should have the advantage of a good education, he sent me to the famous university of Pisa, in Tuscany. I there acquired the language of Italy in its purest form; but, unhappily, I almost learned to forget my own country – I formed friendships with those among whom I lived. I not only learned to talk, but to think as an Italian, and I was even ignorant of the gallant struggle which had commenced in Greece. This was owing to the affection of my parents, who, knowing that my disposition would have prompted me instantly to throw myself wherever danger was the greatest, did not inform me of what was taking place, and when they suspected that I must have heard something on the subject, assured me that my presence would be useless, and urged me to remain where I was. Alas! I listened to their well-meant deceit, till news was brought me that my noble father had been slain in combat with the enemies of our country, and that my mother had died of grief at his loss. Then, indeed, the truth was made known to me, and, rousing myself for action, I hastened to fly to the country, where I felt that the presence of even the meanest of her brave sons was required. Alas! I found that the means of quitting Italy were wanting – I was in debt, and no funds had been transmitted to me. I contrived to exist; for my friends were kind, but innumerable delays occurred before the money I sent for arrived, and I am only now on my way to Greece – my native land, the mother of the arts and sciences, the country of Socrates and Plato, of Alexander and Aristides, the battle-fields of Thermopylae and Marathon. Ah, signora, Greece once contained all that is noble and great, and brave – what she once was, such she will be again – when we, her brave sons, have regenerated her, when we have driven forth the accursed Turk, never more to set his foot upon our sacred shore, except as a slave, and a bondman. Ah, this is the patriot’s wish – his dream by night, his hope by day. This is the bond of union which now unites the hearts of our countrymen in one great feeling – a deadly hatred of the Turk – time is coming, and will shortly arrive when Greece, brightly and freshly burnished, will come forth a model of a perfect republic to all the nations of the earth. You are happy, signora, in going to the neighbourhood, that you may watch the progress of the glorious work.”