CHAPTER III.
"There's Jonathan, that lucky lad, Who knows it from the root, sir;-- He sucks in all that's to be had, And always trades for boot, sir." 14,763D VERSE OF YANKEE DOODLE.
Il Capitano Smeet' was not sorry to get out of the government house--palazzo, as some of the simple people of Elba called the unambitious dwelling.

He had been well badgered by the persevering erudition of the vice-governatore; and, stored as he was with nautical anecdotes and a tolerable personal acquaintance with sundry seaports, for any expected occasion of this sort, he had never anticipated a conversation which would aspire as high as the institutions, religion, and laws of his adopted country.

Had the worthy Andrea heard the numberless maledictions that the stranger muttered between his teeth, as he left the house, it would have shocked all his sensibilities, if it did not revive his suspicions.
It was now night; but a starry, calm, voluptuous evening, such as are familiar to those who are acquainted with the Mediterranean and its shores.

There was scarcely a breath of wind, though the cool air, that appeared to be a gentle respiration of the sea, induced a few idlers still to linger on the heights, where there was a considerable extent of land that might serve for a promenade.

Along this walk the mariner proceeded, undetermined, for the moment, what to do next.