All this time the vice-governatore was making up his mind concerning the nation and character of the stranger. That he should mistake Bolt for an Englishman was natural enough, and the fact had an influence in again unsettling his opinion as to the real flag under which the lugger sailed, Like most Italians of that day, he regarded all the families of the northern hordes as a species of barbarians--an opinion that the air and deportment of Ithuel had no direct agency in changing; for, while this singular being was not brawlingly rude and vulgar, like the coarser set of his own countrymen, with whom he had occasionally been brought in contact, he was so manifestly uncivilized in many material points, as to put his claim to gentility much beyond a cavil, and that in a negative way.
"You are a Genoese?" said Andrea to Filippo, speaking with the authority of one who had a right to question.
"Signore, I am, at your eccellenza's orders, though in foreign service at this present moment."
"In what service, friend? I am in authority, here in Elba, and ask no more than is my duty."
"Eccellenza, I can well believe this," answered Filippo, rising and making a respectful salutation, and one, too, that was without any of the awkwardness of the same act in a more northern man, "as it is to be seen in your appearance. I am now in the service of the king of England."
Filippo said this steadily, though his eyes dropped to the floor under the searching scrutiny they endured. The answer of the vice-governatore was delivered coolly, though it was much to the point.
"You are happy," he said, "in getting so honorable masters; more especially as your own country has again fallen into the hands of the French. Every Italian heart must yearn for a government that has its existence and its motives on this side of the Alps."
"Signore, we are a republic to-day, and ever have been, you know."
"Aye--such as it is. But your companion speaks no Italian--he is an Inglese?"
"No, Signore--an Americano; a sort of an Inglese, and yet no Inglese, after all. He loves England very little, if I can judge by his discourse."
"Un' Americano!" repeated Andrea Barrofaldi; "Americano!" exclaimed Vito Viti; "Americano!" said each of the marines in succession, every eye turning with lively curiosity toward the subject of the discourse, who bore it all with appropriate steadiness and dignity. The reader is not to be surprised that an American was then regarded with curiosity, in a country like Italy; for, two years later, when an American ship of war anchored suddenly before the town of Constantinople, and announced her nation, the authorities of the Sublime Porte were ignorant that such a country existed. It is true, Leghorn was beginning to be much frequented by American ships, in the year 1799; but even with these evidences before their eyes, the people of the very ports into which these traders entered were accustomed to consider their crews a species of Englishmen, who managed to sail the vessels for the negroes at home[3]. In a word, two centuries and a half of national existence, and more than half a century of national independence, have not yet sufficed to teach all the inhabitants of the old world, that the great modern Republic is peopled by men of a European origin, and possessing white skins. Even of those who are aware of the fact, the larger proportion, perhaps, have obtained their information through works of a light character, similar to this of our own, rather than by the more legitimate course of regular study and a knowledge of history.