“Proper vestments!” repeated Ithuel, with contempt; “what vestments are wanting in the eyes of the Supreme Being?  No; if I must have religion—­and I know it’s necessary and whullsom’—­let it be a pure, naked religion that will stand to reason.  Is not that your way of thinking, Monsieur Rule?”

“Ma foi, oui.  Reason before all things, Ghita; and, most of all, reason in religion.”

“Ah, Raoul! this it is which misleads and betrays you,” returned the girl, earnestly.  “Faith and a meek dependence is what makes a proper state of feeling; and yet you demand a reason of Him who created the Universe and breathed into you the breath of life!”

“Are we not reasoning creatures, Ghita,” returned Raoul, gently, and yet with a sincerity and truth for the circumstances that rendered even his scepticism piquant and respectable; “and is it unreasonable to expect us to act up to our natures?  Can I worship a God I do not understand?”

“Couldst thou worship one thou didst?  He would cease to be a deity and would become one of ourselves were his nature and attributes brought down to the level of our comprehensions.  Did one of thy followers come on this quarter-deck and insist on hearing all thine own motives for the orders given in this little felucca, how readily wouldst thou drive him back as mutinous and insolent; and yet thou wouldst question the God of the universe and pry into his mysteries!”

Raoul was mute, while Ithuel stared.  It was so seldom that Ghita lost her exceeding gentleness of manner that the flush of her cheek, the severe earnestness of her eyes, the impassioned modulations of her voice, and the emphasis with which she spoke on this occasion produced a sort of awe that prevented the discourse from proceeding further, The girl herself was so much excited, that, after sitting for a minute with her hands before her face, the tears were seen forcing their way through her fingers.  She then arose, and darted into the cabin, Raoul was too observant of the rules of propriety to think of following; but he sat moody and lost in thought, until Ithuel drew his attention to himself.

“Gals will be gals,” said that refined and philosophical observer of the human family, “and nothing touches their natur’s sooner than a little religious excitement.  I dare say, if it wasn’t for images and cardinals and bishops and such creatur’s, the Italians (Ithuel always pronounced this word Eyetalians) would make a very good sort of Christians.”

But Raoul was in no humor to converse, and as the hour had now arrived when the zephyr was to be expected, he rose, ordered the awning to be taken in, and prepared to make himself master of the state of things around him.  There lay the frigate, taking her siesta, like all near; her three topsails standing, but every other sail that was loose hanging in festoons, waiting for the breeze.  Notwithstanding her careless