"The Neapolitan dynasty has ceased to reign! its existence is incompatible with the repose of Europe and the honour of our crown. Soldiers, march! and if they will await your attack, drive into the sea those feeble battalions of the tyrants of the ocean—lose no time in making all Italy subject to my arms!"
Probably the Moniteur contained some unpleasant account of our brilliant success in other parts of the world; for the temper of the general was soured, and he regarded me with a most vinegar-like aspect, when the corporal ushered me in. I bowed coldly; he answered only by a stern glance, spread his hands behind his coat tails, and leaned against the mantel-piece.
"Ouf! a prisoner of war," said he, and scanning me at intervals, while reading the letter of Compere.
"Your name and rank?"
"Dundas, captain of the 62nd regiment of the line, and commandant of the castle of Scylla, for his Majesty Ferdinand IV."
"Ouf! the very man we wanted! You were caught on the shore near Palmi?"
"Yes, when left there by the boat of the Electra frigate, and merely meaning to make a reconnoissance, (until daybreak enabled us to put to sea) I penetrated"—
"A deuced lame story! Bah! you were merely making a reconnoissance at Canne too, I suppose? Ha! ha! well, we will cure you of that propensity for the future."
"I request to be liberated on my parole."
"A spy on parole! Ouf!"