The Corsican Brothers

“May I make the attempt?”

“Certainly.”

Placing the coins upon the floor, I struck a sharp blow with the dagger. Lucien had not deceived me.

When I withdrew the poignard I found both pieces pierced through and through, fixed upon the point of the dagger.

“This is indeed the dagger of Sampietro,” I said. “But what astonishes me is that being possessed of such a weapon he should have employed the cord to kill his wife.”

“He did not possess it at that time,” replied Lucien; “he had given it to my ancestor.”

“Ah! true!”

“Sampietro was more than sixty years old when he hastened from Constantinople to Aix to teach that lesson to the world, viz., that women should not meddle in state affairs.”

I bowed in assent, and replaced the poignard.

“Now,” said I to Lucien, who all this time had been dressing, “let us pass on from Sampietro to some one else.”

“You see those two portraits close together?”

“Yes, Paoli and Napoleon.”

“Well, near the portrait of Paoli is a sword.”

“Precisely so.”

“That is his sword.”

“Paoli’s sword? And is it as authentic as the poignard of Sampietro?”

“Yes, at least as authentic; though he did not give it to one of my male ancestors, but to one of the ladies.”

“To one of your female ancestors?”

“Yes. Perhaps you have heard people speak of this woman, who in the war of independence presented herself at the Tower of Sullacaro, accompanied by a young man?”

“No, tell me the story.”

“Oh, it is a very short one.”

“So much the worse.”

“Well, you see, we have not much time to talk now.”

“I am all attention.”

“Well, this woman and this young man presented themselves before the Tower of Sullacaro and requested to speak with Paoli; but as he was engaged writing, he declined to admit them; and then, as the woman insisted, the two sentinels repulsed her, when Paoli, who had heard the noise, opened the door and inquired the cause.”

“ ‘It is I,’ said the woman; ‘I wish to speak to you.’

“ ‘What have you to say to me?’

“ ‘I have come to tell you that I have two sons. I heard yesterday that one had been killed for defending his country, and I have come twenty leagues to bring you the other!!!’ ”

“You are relating an incident of Sparta,” I said.

“Yes, it does appear very like it.”

“And who was this woman?”

“She was my ancestress.”

“Paoli took off his sword and gave it to her.

“ ‘Take it,’ he said, ‘I like time to make my excuses to woman.’ ”

“She was worthy of both – is it not so?”

“And now this sabre?”

“That is the one Buonaparte carried at the battle of the Pyramids.”

“No doubt it came into your family in the same manner as the poignard and the sword.”

“Entirely. After the battle Buonaparte gave the order to my grandfather, who was an officer in the Guides, to charge with fifty men a number of Mamelukes who were at bay around a wounded chieftain. My grandfather dispersed the Mamelukes and took the chief back a prisoner to the First Consul. But when he wished to sheath his sword he found the blade had been so bent in his encounter with the Mamelukes that it would not go into the scabbard. My grandfather therefore threw sabre and sheath away as useless, and, seeing this, Buonaparte gave him his own.”

“But,” I said, “in your place I would rather have had my grandfather’s sabre, all bent as it was, instead of that of the general’s, which was in good condition.”

“Look before you and you will find it. The First Consul had it recovered, and caused that large diamond to be inserted in the hilt. He then sent it to my family with the inscription which you can read on the blade.”

I advanced between the windows, where, hanging half-drawn from its scabbard, which it could not fully enter, I perceived the sabre bent and hacked, bearing the simple inscription —

“Battle of the Pyramids, 21st of July, 1798.”

At that moment the servant came to announce that supper was served.

“Very well, Griffo,” replied the young man; “tell my mother that we are coming down.”

As he spoke he came forth from the inner room, dressed, as he said, like a mountaineer; that is to say, with a round velvet coat, trowsers, and gaiters; of his other costume he had only retained his pouch.

He found me occupied in examing two carbines hanging opposite each other, and both inscribed —

“21st September, 1819: 11 A.M.”

“Are these carbines also historical?” I asked.

“Yes,” he answered. “For us, at least, they bear a historical significance. One was my father’s – ”

He hesitated.

“And the other,” I suggested.

“And the other,” he said, laughing, “is my mother’s. But let us go downstairs; my mother will be awaiting us.”

Then passing in front of me to show me the way he courteously signed to me to follow him.

CHAPTER V

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?”

“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.”

Конец ознакомительного фрагмента.

Текст предоставлен ООО «ЛитРес».

Прочитайте эту книгу целиком, купив полную легальную версию на ЛитРес.

Безопасно оплатить книгу можно банковской картой Visa, MasterCard, Maestro, со счета мобильного телефона, с платежного терминала, в салоне МТС или Связной, через PayPal, WebMoney, Яндекс.Деньги, QIWI Кошелек, бонусными картами или другим удобным Вам способом.