in all the houses round about the harbour — the
troops on the quay fell back into position, and
presented arms — and the first of an impromptu
salute of twenty-one guns was fired from Fort
Galita.

The two young men looked at each other, and
smiled. They had been shouting like the rest,
till they were hoarse; and now, when Saxon
turned to his friend and said, " Shall we get
quietly away, Castletowers, before the storm has
subsided?" — the Earl caught at the idea, and
proceeded at once to act upon it.

They then sheered off from the City of Aberdeen;
moored the yacht close under the quay;
beckoned to the nearest boatman; and were
rowed, unnoticed, to a landing-place a little
further down the harbour.

"And now, Trefalden," said Lord Castletowers,
when they presently found themselves
on shore, " now for a race over Palermo!"

"Scusate," said a pleasant voice; " but will
you accept of a guide ?"

It was the young officer of the City of Aberdeen,
who had followed them unseen, and overtaken
them just as they landed.

In a moment they had all three shaken
hands, and were chatting as joyously and freely
as if they had known each, other for weeks
already.

"Have you ever been in Palermo before?"
asked the Sicilian.

"Once, about four years ago," replied the
Earl.

"Ah, Dio! it is sadly changed. You cannot
see from this point what the cursed bombardment
has done; but up by the Piazza Nuova
the place is one heap of desolation — churches,
convents, palaces, all destroyed, and hundreds
of corpses yet lying unburied in the ruins!
But we mean to take our revenge at Melazzo."

"At Melazzo?" repeated Saxon. " Where
is that ?"

"What! Do you not know?"

"We know nothing," said Castletowers,
eagerly; " nothing of what has happened since
we left England. What about Melazzo?"

They had been turning their backs upon the
harbour, and proceeding in the direction of the
Strada Toledo; but at these words, their new
friend seized them each by the arm, and hurried
them back to the quay.

"You see that great steamer?" he exclaimed,
pointing to the City of Aberdeen. "That
steamer on board of which his Excellency invited
the Colonna?"

"Yes."

"And those troops drawn up against the
landing-place?"

"Yes, yes."

"Well, they are all picked men; the last
twelve hundred of the expedition. They are
now waiting to go on board, and by ten o'clock
to-night will steam out of the harbour. General
Cosenz and his Cacciatori are already gone — they
went last evening; but Garibaldi himself goes
with us in the City of Aberdeen. Melazzo is not
far — we shall be there before daybreak;
but they say there will be no fighting till the
day after to-morrow."

"Why, this is glorious!" cried Saxon.

"Yes, you are in luck to drop in for a siege
the day after your arrival," replied the Sicilian.
"I have been here for nearly three weeks, and
have had nothing to do yet, except to assist in
the demolition of the Castello, and that was not
amusing. It was all well enough for the first
hour or two; but one soon gets tired of pulling
down stone walls when there are no Regi
behind them."

He then led the way back to the Toledo,
pointing out those places where the struggle
had been fiercest, asking and answering questions,
and pouring forth his pleasant talk with
the simple vivacity of a boy.

His name, he said, was Silvio Beni. He was
the second son of a Palermitan landowner on
the other side of the island, and held the rank
of aide-de-camp in the Garibaldian army. He
had fought last year as a volunteer at Solferino;
but had no intention of becoming a soldier by
profession. Fighting for liberty was one thing;
but fighting for four pauls a day was another.
He meant to cultivate olives and vines, and live
the pastoral life of his forefathers, if he did not
happen to get shot before the end of the campaign.

Chattering thus, he led Saxon and Castletowers
through the chief streets of the city;
and a terrible sight it was for eyes unused to
the horrors of war. Here were the remnants of
the famous barricades of the 27th of May; here
the shattered walls of the University, the Pretorio
pitted with shot-holes, and the monastery of the
Seven Angels, of which a mere shell remained.
Then came a stately palace, roofless and windowless —
the blackened foundations of a church
once famous for its archives — a whole street
propped, and threatening to fall at every moment —
the charred fragments of a convent in
which the helpless sisters had been burned alive
beyond the possibility of escape. In some
places scarcely one stone was left standing on
another. In some, the fiery storm had passed
by and left no trace of its course.

Presently, from a broad space of indistinguishable
ruin, pestilent with unburied dead,
they emerged upon a quarter where the streets
were gay with promenaders and the cafés
crowded with idlers; where the national flag
floated gaily from the roofs of the public buildings,
and all the butterfly business of South
Italian life was going on as merrily as if the
ten-inch shell were a phenomenon the very
name of which was unknown to Sicilian ears.

Saxon could not comprehend how these
people should be eating ices and playing at
dominoes, as if nothing had happened of late to
disturb their equanimity. It seemed to him
inexpressibly shocking and heartless; and, not
being accustomed to conceal his opinions, he
said so, very bluntly.

The Sicilian smiled and shrugged his
shoulders.