Sketches | Page 7

where Major Ponsonby, even in his siesta, watched over the interests of
British commerce--for it was a city, and was blessed with the holy
presence of a bishop--a young Englishman disembarked from an
imperial merchant brig just arrived from Otranto, and, according to
custom, took his way to the Consul's house. He was a man of an age
apparently verging towards thirty; and, although the native porter, who
bore his luggage and directed his path, proved that, as he was
accompanied not even by a single servant, he did not share the general
reputation of his countrymen for wealth, his appearance to those
practised in society was not undistinguished. Tall, slender, and calm,
his air, though unaffected, was that of a man not deficient in
self-confidence; and whether it were the art of his tailor, or the result of
his own good frame, his garb, although remarkably plain, had that
indefinable style which we associate with the costume of a man of
some mark and breeding.
On arriving at the Consul's house, he was ushered through a large, dark,
cool hall, at the end of which was a magnificent staircase leading to the
suite of saloons, into a small apartment on the ground floor fitted up in
the English style, which, although it offered the appearance of the
library of an English gentleman, was, in fact, the consular office. Dwarf
bookcases encircled the room, occasionally crowned by a marble bust,
or bronze group. The ample table was covered with papers, and a
vacant easy-chair was evidently the consular throne. A portrait of his

Britannic majesty figured on the walls of one part of the chamber; and
over the mantel was another portrait, which immediately engaged the
attention of the traveller, and, indeed, monopolised his observation. He
had a very ample opportunity of studying it, for nearly a quarter of an
hour elapsed before he was disturbed. It was the full-length portrait of a
young lady. She stood on a terrace in a garden, and by her side was a
gazelle. Her form was of wonderful symmetry; but although her dress
was not English, the expression of her countenance reminded the
traveller of the beauties of his native land. The dazzling complexion,
the large deep blue eye, the high white forehead, the clustering brown
hair, were all northern, but northern of the highest order. She held in
her small hand a branch of orange-blossom-the hand was fairer than the
flower.
'Signor Ferrers, I believe,' said a shrill voice. The traveller started, and
turned round. Before him stood a little, parched-up, grinning, bowing
Italian, holding in his hand the card that the traveller had sent up to the
Consul.
'My name is Ferrers,' replied the traveller, slightly bowing, and
speaking in a low, sweet tone.
'Signor Ponsonby is at the casino,' said the Italian: 'I have the honour to
be the chancellor of the British Consulate.'
It is singular that a mercantile agent should be styled a Consul, and his
chief clerk a chancellor.
'I have the honour to be the chancellor of the British Consulate,' said
the Italian; 'and I will take the earliest opportunity of informing the
Consul of your arrival. From Otranto, I believe? All well, I hope, at
Otranto?'
'I hope so too,' replied the traveller; 'and so I believe.'
'You will be pleased to leave your passport, sir, with me--the Consul
will be most happy to see you at the casino: about sunset he will be
very happy to see you at the casino. I am sorry that I detained you for a

moment, but I was at my siesta. I will take the earliest opportunity of
informing the Consul of your arrival; but at present all the consular
messengers are taking their siesta; the moment one is awake I shall
send him to the casino. May I take the liberty of inquiring whether you
have any letters for the Consul?'
'None,' replied the traveller.
The chancellor shrugged his shoulders a little, as if he regretted he had
been roused from his siesta for a traveller who had not even a letter of
introduction, and then turned on his heel to depart.
The traveller took up his hat, hesitated a moment, and then said, 'Pray,
may I inquire of whom this is a portrait?'
'Certainly,' replied the chancellor; ''tis the Signora Ponsonby.'
CHAPTER III.
The Mysterious Stranger
IT WAS even upon as ignoble an animal as a Barbary ass, goaded by a
dusky little islander almost in a state of nudity, that, an hour before
sunset on the day of his arrival, the English traveller approached the
casino of the Consul's daughter, for there a note from Major Ponsonby
had invited him to repair, to be introduced to his daughter, and to taste
his oranges. The servant who received