But happily Captain Pomery’s defiance was thrown away.  A minute later the leading gunboat ran up a small bundle on her main signal halliards, and shook out the green flag of Corsica.

“You can let the gun lie,” said I to my monks.  “These are friends.”

“They are my countrymen,” said the Princess at my elbow.  “That they are friends is less certain.”

“At any rate, they are lowering a boat,” said I; “and see, my uncle is jumping into his, to intercept them.”

The Corsicans, manning their boat, pulled straight for the island; but at half a mile’s distance or less, being hailed by my uncle, lay on their oars and waited while he bore down on them.  I saw him lift his hat to a man seated in the stern-sheets, who stood up and saluted politely in response.  The two boats drew close alongside, while their commanders conversed, and after a couple of minutes resumed their way abreast and drew to the landing-quay, where Dom Basilio stood awaiting them.

“By his stature and bearing,” said I, conning him through a glass which one of the monks passed to me, “this must be the General himself.”

“Paoli?” queried the Princess.

I nodded.

“Shall we go down the rock to meet him?”

“It is Paoli’s place to mount to us,” said she proudly.

We waited therefore while my uncle led him up to us.  But Pascal Paoli was too great a man to trouble about his dignity; and for courtesies, he contented himself with omitting none.

“Salutation, O Princess!” He halted within a few steps of the head of the stairway, and lifted his hat.

“Salutation, O General!”

“And to you, Cavalier!” He included me in his bow, “Pouf!” he panted, looking about him; “the ascent is a sharp one, under the best conditions.  And you carried it in the darkness, against odds?” He turned upon my uncle.  “You English are a great race.”

“Excuse me, General,” said my uncle, indicating Dom Basilio and the monks:  “the credit belongs rather to my friends here.”

“I had the pleasure to meet Sir John Constantine, a while ago, outside our new town of Isola Rossa, where he did me a signal service.  You are his son, sir?”

I bowed.

“I condole with you, since I come too late to thank him—­on behalf of Corsica, Princess—­for a yet more brilliant service.  An assault such as your party made last night requires brave men; but even more, it requires a brave leader and a genius even to conceive it.  Let me say, sirs, that we heard your fire and saw Giraglia blazing, as far south as Nonza, where we were conducting a far meaner enterprise; and came north in wonder where Corsica had found such friends.”

“Say rather, sir, where my mother had found them,” interposed the Princess, coldly.  “Is this curiosity of yours all your business?”

The General met her look frankly.  If annoyed, he hid his annoyance.