I MUST confess that as I descended to the supper-room I could not help
thinking of Lucien's last remark, "The other is my mother's carbine;"
and this circumstance compelled me to regard Madame de Franchi more
closely than I had hitherto done.
When her son entered the _salle à manger,_ he respectfully kissed her
hand, and she received this homage with queenly dignity.
"I am afraid that we have kept you waiting, mother," said Lucien; "I
must ask your pardon."
"In any case, that would be my fault, madame," I said, bowing to her.
"Monsieur Lucien has been telling me and pointing out many curious
things, and by my reiterated questions I have delayed him."
"Rest assured," she said, "I have not been kept waiting; I have but
this moment come downstairs. But," she continued, addressing Lucien,
"I was rather anxious to ask you what news there was of Louis."
"Your son has been ill, madame?" I asked.
"Lucien is afraid so," she said.
"Have you received a letter from your brother?" I inquired.
"No," he replied, "and that is the very thing that makes me uneasy."
"But, then, how can you possibly tell that he is out of sorts?"
"Because during the last few days I have been suffering myself."
"I hope you will excuse my continual questions; but, really, your
answer does not make matters any clearer."
"Well, you know that we are twins, don't you?"
"Yes, my guide told me as much."
"Were you also informed that when we came into the world we were
joined together?"
"No; I was ignorant of that circumstance."
"Well, then, it was a fact, and we were obliged to be cut asunder. So
that, you see, however distant we may be, we have ever the same body,
so that any impression, physical or moral, which one may receive is
immediately reflected in the other. During the last few days I felt
_triste,_ morose, dull, and without any predisposing cause, so far as
I am aware. I have experienced terrible pains in the region of the
heart, and palpitations, so it is evident to me that my brother is
suffering some great grief."
I looked with astonishment at this young man, who affirmed such a
strange thing without the slightest fear of contradiction, and his
mother also appeared to entertain the same conviction as he did.
Madame de Franchi smiled sadly, and said, "The absent are in the hands
of God, the great point is that you are certain that he is alive."
"Yes," replied Lucien, calmly, "for if he were dead I should have seen
him."
"And you would have told me, would you not, my son?"
"Oh, of course, mother, at once."
"I am satisfied. Excuse me, monsieur," she continued, turning to me,
"I trust you will pardon my maternal anxiety. Not only are Louis and
Lucien my sons, but they are the last of their race. Will you please
take the chair at my right hand? Lucien, sit here."
She indicated to the young man the vacant place at her left hand.
We seated ourselves at the extremity of a long table, at the opposite
end of which were laid six other covers, destined for those who in
Corsica are called the family; that is to say, the people who in large
establishments occupy a position between the master and the servants.
The table was abundantly supplied with good cheer. But I confess that
although at the moment blessed with a very good appetite, I contented
myself with eating and drinking as it were mechanically, for my senses
were not in any way attracted by the pleasures of the table. For,
indeed, it appeared to me that I had entered into a strange world when
I came into that house, and that I was now living in a dream.
Who could this woman be who was accustomed to carry a carbine like a
soldier?
What sort of person could this brother be, who felt the same grief
that his brother experienced at a distance of three hundred leagues?
What sort of mother could this be who made her son declare that if he
saw the spirit of his dead brother he would tell her at once?
These were the questions that perplexed me, and it will be readily
understood they gave me ample food for thought.
However, feeling that continual silence was not polite, I made an
effort to collect my ideas. I looked up.
The mother and son at the same instant perceived that I wished to
enter into conversation.
"So," said Lucien to me, as if he were continuing his remarks, "so you
made up your mind to come to Corsica?"
"Yes, as you see, I had for a long time had a desire to do so, and at
last I have accomplished it."
"_Ma foi!_ you have done well not to delay your visit; for with the
successive encroachments of French tastes and manners those who come
to look for Corsica in a few years will not find it."
"However," I replied, "if the ancient national spirit retires before
civilization and takes refuge in any corner of the island, it
certainly will be in the province of Sartène, and in the valley of the
Tavaro."
"Do you think so, really?" said the young man, smiling.
"Yes, and it appears to me that here at the present moment there is a
beautiful and noble tablet of ancient Corsican manners."
"Yes, and nevertheless, even here, between my mother and myself, in
the face of four hundred years of reminiscences of this old fortified
mansion, the French spirit has come to seek out my brother--has
carried him away to Paris, when he will return to us a lawyer. He will
live in Ajaccio instead of dwelling in his ancestral home. He will
plead--if he possess the talent--he may be nominated _procureur du
roi_ perhaps; then he will pursue the poor devils who have 'taken a
skin,' as they say here. He will confound the assassin with the
avenger--as you yourself have done already. He will demand, in the
name of the law, the heads of those who had done what their fathers
would have considered themselves dishonoured _not_ to have done. He
will substitute the judgment of men for the justice of God; and in the
evening, when he shall have claimed a head for the scaffold, he will
believe that he has performed his duty, and has brought his stone as a
tribute to the temple of Civilization, as our préfect says. Oh! mon
Dieu! mon Dieu!"
The young man raised his eyes to heaven, as Hannibal is reported to
have done after the battle of Zama.
"But," I replied, "you must confess that it is the will of God to
equalize these things, since in making your brother a proselyte of the
new order He has kept you here as a representative of the old manners
and customs."
"Yes; but what is there to prove that my brother will not follow the
example of his uncle instead of following mine? And even I myself may
be about to do something unworthy of a de Franchi."
"You!" I exclaimed, with astonishment.
"Yes, I. Do you wish me to tell you why you have come into this
province of Sartène?" [See "Transcriber's Note."]
"Yes, tell me."
"You have come here to satisfy your curiosity as a man of the world,
an artist, or a poet. I do not know what you are, nor do I ask; you
can tell us when you leave, if you wish; if not, you need not inform
us; you are perfectly free to do as you like. Well, you have come in
the hope of seeing some village Vendetta, of being introduced to some
original bandit, such as Mr. Merimée has described in 'Columba.'"
"Well, it appears to me that I have not made such a bad choice, for if
my eyes do not deceive me, your house is the only one in the village
that is not fortified."
"That only proves I have degenerated, as I have said. My father, my
grandfather, and my ancestors for many generations have always taken
one side or the other in the disputes which in the last ten years have
divided the village. And do you know what I have become in the midst
of musket shots and stabs? Well, I am the arbitrator. You have come
into the province of Sartène to see bandits; is not that the fact? So
come with me this evening and I will show you one."
"What! will you really allow me to go with you this evening?"
"Certainly, if it will amuse you. It entirely depends upon yourself."
"I accept, then, with much pleasure."
"Our guest is fatigued," said Madame de Franchi, looking meaningly at
her son, as if she felt ashamed Corsica had so far degenerated.
"No, mother, no, he had better come; and when in some Parisian _salon_
people talk of the terrible Vendettas, of the implacable Corsican
bandits who strike terror into the hearts of children in Bastia and
Ajaccio, he will be able to tell them how things actually are."
"But what is the great motive for this feud, which, as I understand,
is now by your intercession to be for ever extinguished?"
"Oh," replied Lucien, "in a quarrel it is not the motive that matters,
it is the result. If a fly causes a man's death the man is none the
less dead because a fly caused it."
I saw that he hesitated to tell me the cause of this terrible war,
which for the last ten years had desolated the village of Sullacaro.
But, as may be imagined, the more he attempted to conceal it the more
anxious I was to discover it.
"But," said I, "this quarrel must have a motive; is that motive a
secret?"
"Good gracious, no! The mischief arose between the Orlandi and the
Colona."
"On what occasion?"
"Well, a fowl escaped from the farm yard of the Orlandi and flew into
that of the Colona.
"The Orlandi attempted to get back the hen, the Colona declared it
belonged to them. The Orlandi then threatened to bring the Colona
before the judge and make them declare on oath it was theirs. And then
the old woman in whose house the hen had taken refuge wrung its neck,
and threw the dead fowl into her neighbour's face, saying--
"'Well, then, if it belongs to you, eat it.'
"Then one of the Orlandi picked up the fowl by the feet, and attempted
to beat the person who had thrown it in his sister's face; but just as
he was about to do so, one of the Colona appeared, who, unfortunately,
carried a loaded gun, and he immediately sent a bullet through the
Orlandi's heart."
"And how many lives have been sacrificed since?"
"Nine people have been killed altogether."
"And all for a miserable hen not worth twelve sous?"
"Yes, but as I said just now, it is not the cause, but the effect that
we have to look at."
"Since there were nine people killed, then, there might easily be a
dozen."
"Yes, very likely there would be if they had not appointed me as
arbitrator."
"At the intercession of one of the two families no doubt?"
"Oh! dear no, at my brother's request, who heard of the matter at the
Chancellor's house. I asked him what on earth they had to do in Paris
with the affairs of an out-of-the-way little village in Corsica; but
it seems the préfect mentioned it when he wrote to Paris, and said
that if I were to say a word the whole thing would finish like a
farce, by a marriage and a public recitation; so my brother took the
hint, and replied he would answer for me. What could I do?" added the
young man, throwing back his head proudly; "it shall never be said
that a de Franchi passed his word for his brother, and that his
brother did not fulfil the engagement."
"And so you have arranged everything?"
"I am afraid so."
"And we shall see the chief of one of these two parties this evening,
no doubt?"
"Just so; last night I saw the other."
"Are we going to see an Orlandi or a Colona?"
"An Orlandi."
"Is it far from here?"
"In the ruins of the Castle of Vicentello d'Istria."
"Ah! yes--they told me those ruins were close by."
"Yes, they are about a league from here."
"So in three-quarters of an hour we shall be there?"
"Yes, in about that time."
"Lucien," said Madame de Franchi, "remember you speak for yourself.
For a mountaineer as you are it is scarcely three-quarters of an hour
distance, but recollect that our guest may not be able to proceed so
quickly."
"That is true; we had better allow ourselves an hour and a half at
least."
"In that case you have no time to lose," said Madame de Franchi, as
she glanced at the clock.
"Mother," said Lucien as he rose, "you will excuse our leaving you,
will you not?"
She extended her hand to him, and the young man kissed it with the
same respect as he had previously done.
Then turning to me, Lucien said--
"If you prefer to finish your supper quietly, and to smoke your cigar
afterwards----"
"No, no!" I cried; "hang it, you have promised me a bandit, and I must
have one."
"Well, then, let us take our guns and be off."
I bowed respectfully to Madame de Franchi, and we left the room,
preceded by Griffo, who carried a light.
Our preparations did not occupy us very long.
I clasped a travelling belt round my waist, from which was suspended a
sort of hunting-knife, and in the folds of which I carried powder and
ball.
Lucien soon re-appeared with his cartridge case, and carrying a
double-barrelled Manton, and a sort of peaked cap, woven for him by
some Penelope of Sullacaro.
"Shall I go with your Excellency?" asked Griffo.
"No, it will be useless," replied Lucien; "but you may as well loose
Diamond, as we might put up a pheasant, and the moon is so clear we
should be able to shoot as well as in daylight."
An instant afterwards a great spaniel bounded out, and jumped joyously
around its master.
We had not gone many paces from the house when Lucien turned round and
said--
"By-the-by, Griffo, tell them if they hear any shots on the mountain
that it is we who have fired them."
"Very well, your Excellency."
"If we did not take some such precautions," said Lucien, "they would
think that hostilities had recommenced, and we should soon hear our
shots echoing in the streets of Sullacaro. A little farther on you
will see a footpath to the right that will lead us directly up the
mountain."