Ferdinand stood up. "On that same night," he said, in a low, hoarse whisper, "I saw a figure steal up the path to the castle. It was the English lord! On the morrow I traced him back again with drops of blood. They led right into the monastery courtyard. Two days afterwards he died."
"Silence! all of you!" commanded Guiseppe, with shaking voice. "Are these things to be spoken of thus openly? Know you not, you children, that the winds have ears, and he listens there above us."
"It is a thousand feet!" muttered Antonio. "To him our boats can seem only as specks upon the water."
"You fool!" answered Guiseppe. "Do you think that the man whose presence brings storm and wind upon us is like ordinary men? Do you think he cannot hear what he chooses!"
"Ave Maria!" cried Antonio, crossing himself. "I would as soon face the devil himself as the Count! I shall ask Father Bernard to say a prayer for me to-night!"
"Do! and I hope his penance will be a stiff one," answered Guiseppe grimly. "Come, let us trim our sails, and get homeward. The English ship will not want us, and we can watch who lands from the beach."
"'Twould be no such bad thing if she struck on the rocks, if she brings such ill luck to the castle," muttered Antonio, as he unfurled the sail and grasped the tiller. "There would be some pickings for us, beyond doubt—some pretty pickings!"