Andrea Barrofaldi did not let so excellent an opportunity to show his acquirements to the podesta go by neglected.  He talked much of England, its history, its religion, government, laws, climate, and industry; making frequent appeals to the Capitano Smees for the truth of his opinions.  In most cases the parties agreed surprisingly, for the stranger started with a deliberate intention to assent to everything; but even this compliant temper had its embarrassments, since the vice-governatore so put his interrogatories as occasionally to give to acquiescence the appearance of dissent.  The other floundered through his difficulties tolerably well, notwithstanding; and so successful was he, in particular, in flattering Andrea’s self-love by expressions of astonishment that a foreigner should understand his own country so well—­better, indeed, in many respects, than he understood it himself—­and that he should be so familiar with its habits, institutions, and geography, that, by the time the flask was emptied, the superior functionary whispered to his inferior, that the stranger manifested so much information and good sense, he should not be surprised if he turned out, in the long run, to be some secret agent of the British government, employed to make philosophical inquiries as to the trade and navigation of Italy, with a view to improve the business relations between the two countries.

“You are an admirer of nobility, and a devotee of aristocracy,” added Andrea Barrofaldi, in pursuit of the subject then in hand; “if the truth were known, a scion of some Noble house yourself, Signor?”

“I?—­Peste!—­I hate an aristocrat, Signor Vice-governatore, as I do the devil!”

This was said just after the freest draught the stranger had taken, and with an unguarded warmth that he himself immediately regretted.

“This is extraordinary, in an Inglese!  Ah—­I see how it is—­you are in the opposizione, and find it necessary to say this.  It is most extraordinary, good Vito Viti, that these Inglese are divided into two political castes, that contradict each other in everything.  If one maintains that an object is white, the other side swears it is black; and so vice versa.  Both parties profess to love their country better than anything else; but the one that is out of power abuses even power itself, until it falls into its own hands.”

“This is so much like Giorgio Grondi’s course toward me, Signore, that I could almost swear he was one of these very opposizione!  I never approve of a thing that he does not condemn, or condemn that he does not approve.  Do you confess this much, Signor Capitano?”

“Il vice-governatore knows us better than we know ourselves, I fear.  There is too much truth in his account of our politics; but, Signori,” rising from his chair, “I now crave your permission to look at your town, and to return to my vessel.  The darkness has come, and discipline must be observed.”