THE
CORSICAN BROTHERS
A NOVEL
BY
ALEXANDRE DUMAS
TRANSLATED BY HENRY FRITH
LONDON
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE AND SONS
BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL
NEW YORK: 416, BROOME STREET
1880
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WOODFALL AND KINDER,
MILFORD LANE, STRAND, W.C.
TO
HENRY IRVING
THE LATEST REPRESENTATIVE OF THE TWIN BROTHERS
THIS BOOK IS DEDICATED BY
THE TRANSLATOR
THE
CORSICAN BROTHERS.
CHAPTER I.
IN the beginning of March, 1841, I was travelling in Corsica.
Nothing is more picturesque and more easy to accomplish than a journey
in Corsica. You can embark at Toulon, in twenty hours you will be in
Ajaccio, and then in twenty-four hours more you are at Bastia.
Once there you can hire or purchase a horse. If you wish to hire a
horse you can do so for five francs a-day; if you purchase one you can
have a good animal for one hundred and fifty francs. And don't sneer
at the moderate price, for the horse hired or purchased will perform
as great feats as the famous Gascon horse which leaped over the Pont
Neuf, which neither Prospero nor Nautilus, the heroes of Chantilly and
the Champ de Mars could do. He will traverse roads which Balmat
himself could not cross without _crampons,_ and will go over bridges
upon which Auriol would need a balancing pole.
As for the traveller, all he has to do is to give the horse his head
and let him go as he pleases; he does not mind the danger. We may add
that with this horse, which can go anywhere, the traveller can
accomplish his fifteen leagues a day without stopping to bait.
From time to time, while the tourist may be halting to examine some
ancient castle, built by some old baron or legendary hero, or to
sketch a tower built ages ago by the Genoese, the horse will be
contented to graze by the road side, or to pluck the mosses from the
rocks in the vicinity.
As to lodging for the night, it is still more simple in Corsica. The
traveller having arrived at a village, passes down through the
principal street, and making his own choice of the house wherein he
will rest, he knocks at the door. An instant after, the master or
mistress will appear upon the threshold, invite the traveller to
dismount; offer him a share of the family supper and the whole of his
own bed, and next morning, when seeing him safely resume his journey,
will thank him for the preference he has accorded to his house.
As for remuneration, such a thing is never hinted at. The master would
regard it as an insult if the subject were broached. If, however, the
servant happen to be a young girl, one may fitly offer her a coloured
handkerchief, with which she can make up a picturesque coiffure for a
fête day. If the domestic be a male he will gladly accept a poignard,
with which he can kill his enemy, should he meet him.
There is one thing more to remark, and that is, as sometimes happens,
the servants of the house are relatives of the owner, and the former
being in reduced circumstances, offer their services to the latter in
consideration of board and lodging and a few piastres per month.
And it must not be supposed that the masters are not well served by
their cousins to the fifteenth and sixteenth degree, because the
contrary is the case, and the custom is not thought anything of.
Corsica is a French Department certainly, but Corsica is very far from
being France.
As for robbers, one never hears of them, yet there are bandits in
abundance; but these gentlemen must in no wise be confounded one with
another.
So go without fear to Ajaccio, to Bastia, with a purse full of money
hanging to your saddle-bow, and you may traverse the whole island
without a shadow of danger, but do not go from Oceana to Levaco, if
you happen to have an enemy who has declared the Vendetta against you,
for I would not answer for your safety during that short journey of
six miles.
Well, then, I was in Corsica, as I have said, at the beginning of the
month of March, and I was alone; Jadin having remained at Rome.
I had come across from Elba, had disembarked at Bastia, and there had
purchased a horse at the above-mentioned price.
I had visited Corte and Ajaccio, and just then I was traversing the
province of Sartène.
On the particular day of which I am about to speak I was riding from
Sartène to Sullacaro.
The day's journey was short, perhaps a dozen leagues, in consequence
of detours, and on account of my being obliged to climb the slopes of
the mountain chain, which, like a backbone, runs through the island. I
had a guide with me, for fear I should lose my way in the maquis.
It was about five o'clock in the afternoon when we arrived at the
summit of the hill, which at the same time overlooks Olmeto and
Sullacaro. There we stopped a moment to look about us.
"Where would your Excellency wish to stay the night?" asked the guide.
I looked down upon the village, the streets of which appeared almost
deserted. Only a few women were visible, and they walked quickly
along, and frequently looked cautiously around them.
As in virtue of the rules of Corsican hospitality, to which I have
already referred, it was open to me to choose for my resting place any
one of the hundred or hundred and twenty houses of which the village
was composed, I therefore carried my eyes from house to house till
they lighted upon one which promised comfortable quarters. It was a
square mansion, built in a fortified sort of style and machicolated in
front of the windows and above the door.
This was the first time I had seen these domestic fortifications; but
I may mention that the province of Sartène is the classic ground of
the Vendetta.
"Ah, good!" said my guide, as he followed the direction of my
hand--"that is the house of Madame Savilia de Franchi. Go on, go on,
Signor, you have not made a bad choice, and I can see you do not want
for experience in these matters."
I should note here that in this 86th department of France Italian is
universally spoken.
"But," I said, "may it not be inconvenient if I demand hospitality
from a lady, for if I understand you rightly, this house belongs to a
lady."
"No doubt," he replied, with an air of astonishment; "but what
inconvenience does your lordship think you will cause?"
"If the lady be young," I replied, moved by a feeling of
propriety--or, perhaps, let us say, of Parisian self-respect--"a night
passed under her roof might compromise her."
"Compromise her!" repeated the guide, endeavouring to probe the
meaning of the word I had rendered in Italian with all the emphasis
which one would hazard a word in a strange tongue.
"Yes, of course," I replied, beginning to feel impatient; "the lady is
a widow, I suppose?"
"Yes, Excellency."
"Well, then, will she receive a young man into her house?"
In 1841 I was thirty-six years old, or thereabouts, and was entitled
to call myself young.
"Will she receive a young man!" exclaimed the guide; "why, what
difference can it make whether you are young or old?"
I saw that I should get no information out of him by this mode of
interrogation, so I resumed--
"How old is Madame Savilia?"
"Forty, or nearly so."
"Ah," I said, replying more to my thoughts than to my guide, "all the
better. She has children, no doubt?"
"Yes, two sons--fine young men both."
"Shall I see them?"
"You will see one of them--he lives at home."
"Where is the other, then?"
"He lives in Paris."
"How old are these sons?"
"Twenty-one."
"What, both?"
"Yes, they are twins."
"What professions do they follow?"
"The one in Paris is studying law."
"And the other?"
"The other is a Corsican."
"Indeed!" was my reply to this characteristic answer, made in the most
matter-of-fact tone. "Well, now, let us push on for the house of
Madame Savilia de Franchi."
We accordingly resumed our journey, and entered the village about ten
minutes afterwards.
I now remarked what I had not noticed from the hill, namely, that
every house was fortified similarly to Madame Savilia's. Not so
completely, perhaps, for that the poverty of the inhabitants could not
attain to, but purely and simply with oaken planks, by which the
windows were protected, loop-holes only being left for rifle barrels;
some apertures were simply bricked up.
I asked my guide what he called these loop-holes, and he said they
were known as _archères_--a reply which convinced me that they were
used anterior to the invention of firearms.
As we advanced through the streets we were able the more fully to
comprehend the profound character of the solitude and sadness of the
place.
Many houses appeared to have sustained a siege, and the marks of the
bullets dotted the walls.
From time to time as we proceeded we caught sight of a curious eye
flashing upon us from an embrasure; but it was impossible to
distinguish whether the spectator were a man or a woman.
We at length reached the house which I had indicated to my guide, and
which was evidently the most considerable in the village.
As we approached it more nearly, one thing struck me, and that was,
fortified to all outward appearance as it was, it was not so in
reality, for there were neither oaken planks, bricks, nor loop-holes,
but simple squares of glass, protected at night by wooden shutters.
It is true that the shutters showed holes which could only have been
made by the passage of a bullet; but they were of old date, and could
not have been made within the previous ten years.
Scarcely had my guide knocked, when the door was opened, not
hesitatingly, nor in a timid manner, but widely, and a valet, or
rather I should say a man appeared.
It is the livery that makes the valet, and the individual who then
opened the door to us wore a velvet waistcoat, trowsers of the same
material, and leather gaiters. The breeches were fastened at the waist
by a parti-coloured silk sash, from the folds of which protruded the
handle of a Spanish knife.
"My friend," I said, "is it indiscreet of me, who knows nobody in
Sullacaro, to ask hospitality of your mistress?"
"Certainly not, your Excellency," he replied; "the stranger does
honour to the house before which he stops." "Maria," he continued,
turning to a servant, who was standing behind him, "will you inform
Madame Savilia that a French traveller seeks hospitality?"
As he finished speaking he came down the eight rough ladder-like steps
which led to the entrance door, and took the bridle of my horse.
I dismounted.
"Your Excellency need have no further concern," he said; "all your
luggage will be taken to your room."
I profited by this gracious invitation to idleness--one of the most
agreeable which can be extended to a traveller.