Ithuel's muscles twitched, and an expression of intense bitterness
darkened his countenance. Then he smiled in a sort of derision, and gave
vent to his feelings in words.

"Perhaps you're right, Signore; perhaps this is the ra'al truth of the
matter; for the British _do_ take our people just the same as if they
had the best right in the world to 'em. After all, we _may_ be serving
our masters; and all we say and think at home about independence is just
a flash in the pan! Notwithstanding, some on us contrive, by hook or by
crook, to take our revenge when occasion offers; and if I don't sarve
master John Bull an ill turn, whenever luck throws a chance in my way,
may I never see a bit of the old State again--granite or rotten wood."

This speech was not very closely translated, but enough was said to
awaken curiosity in the vice-governatore, who thought it odd one who
served among the English should entertain such feelings toward them. As
for Ithuel himself, he had not observed his usual caution; but, unknown
to himself, the oily wine had more "granite" in it than he imagined, and
then he seldom spoke of the abuse of impressment without losing more or
less of his ordinary self-command.

"Ask the Americano when he first entered into the service of the king of
Inghilterra," said Andrea, "and why he stays in it, if it is unpleasant
to him, when so many opportunities of quitting it offer?"

"I never entered," returned Ithuel, taking the word in its technical
meaning; "they pressed me, as if I had been a dog they wanted to turn a
spit, and kept me seven long years fighting their accursed battles, and
otherwise sarving their eends. I was over here, last year, at the mouth
of the Nile, and in that pretty bit of work--and off Cape St. Vincent,