The situation of Ghita was now as wildly picturesque as it was moving to her inmost spirit.  All around her still slept, and that, to the eye, as profoundly as he who was only to rise again when the sea and the land give up their dead.  The excitement and exertions of the past day produced their reaction, and seldom did sleep exercise a more profound influence.  The fire was still burning bright on the islet of the gig-men, casting its rays fairly athwart the ruins, the different sleepers in them, and the immovable body of the dead.  At moments, gusts of the Tramontana, which was now blowing fresh, descended so low as to fan the flames, when the glare that succeeded seemed to give a startling reality to all that surrounded the place.

Still the girl was too highly sustained to be moved with anything but her loss, and her restless inquietude for the departed spirit.  She saw that even her uncle slept, leaving her truly alone with Raoul.  Once a feeling of desertion came over her, and she was inclined to arouse some of the sleepers.  She did approach the spot where the surgeon lay, and her hand was raised to stir him, when a flash of light shot athwart the pallid countenance of Raoul, and she perceived that his eyes were still open.  Drawing near, she bent over the body, gazing long and wistfully into those windows of the soul that had so often beamed on her in manly tenderness, and she felt like a miser with his hoarded gold, unwilling to share it with any other.

Throughout the livelong night did Ghita watch by the body of her well-beloved, now hanging over it with a tenderness no change could extinguish, now besieging heaven with her prayers.  Not one awoke to interfere with the strange happiness she felt in those pious offices, or to wound her sensibilities by the surprise or the sneers of the vulgar.  Ere the day came, she closed the eyes of Raoul with her own hands, covered his body with a French ensign that lay upon the rock, and sat, patient and resigned, awaiting the moment when some of the others might be ready to aid her in performing the last pious offices in behalf of the dead.  As a Romanist, she found a holy consolation in that beautiful portion of her church’s creed that admits of unceasing petition for the souls of the departed, even to the latest hour of earthly things.

Winchester was the first to stir.  Starting up, he appeared to be astonished at the situation in which he found himself; but a glance around told the whole truth.  Advancing toward Ghita, he was about to inquire after the welfare of Raoul, when, struck by the expression of her seraphic countenance, he turned to the body, and read the truth in the appropriate pall.  It was no time for self-upbraidings, or for reproaches to others; but arousing the sleepers, in a subdued and respectful manner, he gave to the place the quiet and seeming sanctity of a chapel.

Carlo Giuntotardi soon after begged the dead body from the conquerors.  There was no motive for denying the request, and it was placed in a boat and towed to the shore, accompanied by all who had remained.  The heavy sirocco that soon succeeded drove the waves athwart the islet of the ruins, effectually erasing its stains of blood, and sweeping every trace of le Feu-Follet and of the recent events into the sea.