“I understand you, madam,” he muttered. “But she is dumb to all our questions, to all our threats.”
I turned away with a laugh.
“And you are a humane man, monsieur, and a susceptible. Well, it is not for me to teach the inquisitor his trade.”
“Understand,” I said, facing round once more, “that I cannot rest, or live, or love, while this remains unaccomplished.”
He did not answer; but, standing irresolute a moment, shrugged his shoulders and left me.
But I knew at last that the moment was near.
On the 22nd of that same month the penalties of rivalry were ended for Lady Hamilton by the arrival, in the Foudroyant, of the Lord Admiral, who came to transport his mistress to Naples, as Her Majesty’s deputy in the latest Reign of Terror inaugurated in that capital.
A fortnight later the king himself, taking me with him as his simpler and nerve-doctor, and leaving the amiable English Ambassador behind to play dry-nurse to his queen in Palermo—followed in the Sea Horse, which, after a short fair passage, anchored in the bay. Thence, rather to my annoyance, we were transhipped no farther than to the Foudroyant—his mightiness being timid for the moment of venturing into his distracted city—and, there, were scarcely on board before my services were called into requisition in an odd enough connection.
The king—Nelson and his cara sposa being gone ashore—was looking idly out seawards over the taffrail of the quarter-deck, and chattering desultorily with members of his suite behind him, when he broke off abruptly to stare under his palm at some object in the water, which, first seen at a distance, grew rapidly nearer, drifting with the tide upon the ship. Then, in an instant, he gave a hoarse scream; and, seeing him pointing and articulating confusedly, we all ran to the side, and followed with our eyes the direction of his hand.
“Vátene!” he shrieked: “è Caracciolo!” and he shuddered down, so that nothing but his nose and goggle eyes were peeping over the railing.