"Make yourself quite at home, signor," said my host, "and sup without ceremony; being lashed to a wreck for ten hours is enough to give any man an appetite: but excuse my not bearing you company. I have already supped, the hour is late, and I do not usually admit strangers to my table. Catanio, be attentive to our friend."
Catanach—or Catanio—filled my glass with glowing sherry; and long ere the speech of my host was finished, I had dissected the major part of an excellent fowl. My eye fell upon my figure reflected in a mirror opposite, and I could scarcely restrain my mirth: I was a perfect canon, save that a head of curly brown hair supplied the place of a shaven scalp.
"Truly, signor, you make an excellent friar," said the cardinal, who seemed to know what was passing in my mind; "and I doubt not that were you to resign the sword and belt for the cross and cord, you might rise in our catholic church, as many of your countrymen from Douay have done. You must be aware," he continued, after a pause, "that while here, in rear of Massena and Regnier's lines, you run considerable risk of discovery, with the danger of suspicion as a spy. But the ruthless marshal never disturbs my household; and while with it you are safe. He regards me with respect; although his master's iron hand robbed me of the little that war, rebellion, and crime had left me: the poor remnant of the fairest patrimony in Europe."
"I am indebted to your eminence: it would be a deathblow to my hopes to be taken prisoner just now, and would quite play the devil with me!"
"A British frigate often comes up the gulf as far as Canne."
"Ah! the Amphion"
"I will send you off to her by a boat: to pass the French picquets at Cassano is too dangerous a mode of escape. I wish to befriend you, signor; and would deplore—ah! I love the scarlet coat: for I, too, have worn it in my youth."
"A cardinal in a red coat! In our service, my lord?"
"No," he replied coldly, while his eyes sparkled and his cheek flushed. "No: but when I commanded fifteen thousand French infantry at Dunkirk, in the service of my father, whose portrait is behind you."
From the incomprehensible speaker, I turned to the portrait, which was that of a dark and oval-featured cavalier, in a long wig, which flowed over his steel breastplate and scarlet coat; his eyes possessed the same keen and proud expression which I beheld in those of the Italian.