"You say the truth, noble Melchior," put in the patron; "were the wind ahead, or were it two hours earlier in the morning, the little delay should not cost the strangers a batz--that is to say, nothing unreasonable; but as it is, I have not twenty minutes more to lose, evep were all the city magistrates cloaking to be of the party, in their proper and worshipful persons."
"I greatly regret, Sigriore, it should be so," resumed the baron, turning to the applicant with the consideration of one accustomed to season his refusals by a gracious manner; "but these watermen have their secret signs, by which, it would seem, they know the latest moment they may with prudence delay."
"By the mass! Marcelli, I will try him a little--should have known him in a carnival dress. Signor Barone, we are but poor Italian gentlemen, it is true, of Genoa. You have heard of our republic, beyond question--the poor state of Genoa?"
"Though of no great pretensions to letters, Signore," answered Melchior, smiling, "I am not quite ignorant that such a state exists. You could not have named a city on the shores of your Mediterranean that would sooner warm my heart than this very town of which you speak. Many of my happiest hours were passed within its walls, and often, even at this late day, do I live over again my life to recall the pleasures of that merry period. Were there leisure, I could repeat a list of honorable and much esteemed names that are familiar to your ears, in proof of what I say."
"Name them, Signor Barone;--for the love of the saints, and the blessed virgin, name them, I beseech you!"
A little amazed at the eagerness of the other. Melchior de Willading earnestly regarded his furrowed face; and, for an instant, an expression like incertitude crossed his own features.
"Nothing would be easier, Signore, than to name many. The first in my memory, as he has always been the first in my love, is Gaetano Grimaldi, of whom, I doubt not, both of you have often heard?"
"We have, we have! That is--yes, I think we may say, Marcelli, that we have often heard of him, and not unfavorably. Well, what of this Grimaldi?"
"Signore, the desire to converse of your noble townsman is natural, but were I to yield to my wishes to speak of Gaetano, I fear the honest Baptiste might have reason to complain."
"To the devil with Baptiste and his bark! Melchior,--my good Melchior!--dearest, dearest Melchior! hast thou indeed forgotten me?"