424 IL BANCOLO. 
The ransomed captives, many of whom bore marks of the cruelty 
of their masters, now landed on the quay. As they stepped on shore 
some prostrated themselves upon the earth, and kissed the soil of 
that France which they had despaired of again beholding. Others 
called with accents of joy to friends whom they recognized among 
the crowd. Tears of tenderness glistened from every eye; while, 
in the midst of this scene of universal happiness, the venerable 
monks, the authors of this sublime felicity, walked calm and silent 
through the crowd that overwhelmed them with benedictions. 
-The procession went to hear a solemn service of thanksgiving at 
the cathedral, after which each captive was restored to his family or 
his friends. Those who had neither relations nor acquaintances in the 
city were received by the inhabitants, who furnished them, after a 
few days of repose, with the means of returning to their homes. 
A great number of strangers had been present at the touching 
spectacle: each had paid his tribute of admiration to the fearless 
intrepidity and superhuman devotion of the Fathers of Mercy. 
When the ceremony was ended, one of these strangers, who, by his 
accent and dress, might be known for a Venetian, approached one 
of the monks, and thus addressed him :—* If I am not deceived, the 
number of captives whom you have ransomed amounts to more than 
two hundred.” ‘It is so,” answered the monk. ‘“ How many still 
remain in slavery in Africa?” continued the stranger. “ Alas! 
Sir, more than six hundred,” replied the holy man. “ Our receipts 
during the last year have not been considerable. On this occasion 
we have been able to ransom only a few aged Christian captives ; 
and we were constrained to leave as hostages three of our brethren, 
in order to redeem three unhappy Italian slaves, whose age and in- 
firmities seemed about to consign them to the tomb.” ‘* Three Ita- 
lian slaves?” interrupted the stranger, with a vivid expression of 
interest ; ‘and to what part of Italy do they belong?” ‘They 
are natives, I believe, of Sicily,” said the monk. ‘ Their names?” 
demanded the stranger. “I shall be able to satisfy your in- 
quiry,” said the monk; “for I have a list of all our unhappy 
brethren.” 
He then drew forth a scroll of parchment, and cast his eyes over 
it. ‘ Here are the names which you wish to know :—First, 
Paolo Bancolo, aged eighty-six, officer of the customs at Palermo, 
captured, in the year 1700, at the Isle of Syea.” ‘ Heavens!” ex- 
claimed the stranger, “ are you not deceived in that name?” 
“Read for yourself, Sir,” said the monk. ‘I see! I see!” ex- 
claimed the stranger ; “‘it is indeed Paolo Bancolo! But now tell 
