The Corsican Brothers

“They have been here already.”

“I suppose they have left their names and addresses?”

“Here are their cards.”

“Good.”

“Well, your servant has just told me that breakfast is waiting. Suppose we sit down, and after breakfast we can return their visit.”

We entered the salle à manger, and put aside all business for the present.

During the meal Louis questioned me closely concerning my journey in Corsica, and I told him all the incidents with which the reader is acquainted. He made me repeat, over and over again, all that his mother and brother had said. He was quite touched, knowing the true Corsican instincts of Lucien, with the care he had taken to reconcile the Orlandi and the Colona.

The clock struck twelve.

“I do not wish to hurry you, gentlemen,” said Louis, “but I think you should return the visit of those gentlemen. It will not do to put ourselves in the wrong.”

“Oh, you may be quite easy on that point,” I said, “we have plenty of time before us.”

“No matter,” said the Baron Giordano, “Louis is right.”

“Now,” said I, “we must know whether you prefer to fight with sword or pistol?”

“Ah,” he replied, “it is all the same to me; I know as little about one as the other. Besides, Monsieur de Chateau Renaud will save me all trouble in choosing; he looks upon himself, no doubt, as the offended party, and as such will retain the choice of weapons.”

“However, the offence is doubtful, you only offered your arm, as you were asked to do.”

“My opinion is,” said Louis, “that all discussion should tend towards a peaceable arrangement of this matter. My tastes are not warlike, as you know. Far from being a duellist, this is the first affair of the kind I have had, and just for this very reason I wish to come well out of it.”

“That is very easy to say, my friend, but you have to play for your life, and you leave to us and before your family the responsibility of the result.”

“Ah, as to that you may make your mind quite easy, I know my mother and brother well enough; they would only ask whether I had conducted myself as a brave man, and if you replied in the affirmative they would be satisfied.”

“But, hang it, we must know which arm you prefer.”

“Well, if they propose pistols, accept them at once.”

“That is my advice, also,” said the Baron.

“Very well, then, the pistol be it,” I replied, “since that is the advice of both of you, but the pistol is a horrible weapon.”

“Have I time to learn to fence between this and to-morrow?”

“No, unless, perhaps, you studied Grissier, and then you might learn enough to defend yourself.”

Louis smiled.

“Believe me,” said he, “that what will happen tomorrow is already written on high, and whatever we may do we cannot alter that.”

We then shook hands with him and went downstairs.

Our first visit was naturally to the nearer of the two gentlemen who had called on behalf of our adversary.

We, therefore, visited Monsieur René de Chateaugrand, who lived, as we have said, at 12, Rue de la Paix.

Any other visitors were forbidden while we were calling, and we were at once introduced to his presence.

We found Monsieur de Chateaugrand a perfect man of the world – he would not for one moment give us the trouble of calling upon Monsieur de Boissy – he sent his own servant for him.

While we were waiting his appearance, we spoke of everything but the subject which had brought us thither, and in about ten minutes Monsieur de Boissy arrived.

The two gentlemen did not advance any pretensions to the choice of arms, the sword or pistol was equally familiar to M. de Chateau Renaud. They were quite willing to leave the selection to M. de Franchi, or to toss up. A louis was thrown into the air, face for sword, reverse for pistols. The coin came down reverse.

So it was decided. The combat was arranged to take place next morning at nine o’clock, in the wood of Vincennes, where the adversaries would be placed at twenty paces, and after the third signal given by clapping the hands they were to fire.

We returned to convey this decision to Louis de Franchi.

On my return home the same evening, I found the cards of MM. de Chateaugrand and de Boissy.

CHAPTER XVI

AT eight o’clock that evening I called upon M. Louis de Franchi, to inquire whether he had anything to confide to me. But he begged me to wait till next morning, saying:

“The night will bring counsel with it.”

Next morning, therefore, instead of calling at eight, which would have given us plenty of time to go to the meeting, I called at half-past seven.

Louis was already writing in his study.

He looked up as I entered, and I noticed how very pale he was.

“Excuse me,” he said, “I am writing to my mother. You will find the morning papers there; if you can amuse yourself with them you will see a charming feuilleton by M. Mèry in the Presse.”

I took the paper thus indicated, and contrasted the livid pallor of the speaker with his calm and sweet voice.

I endeavoured to read, but I could not fix my attention, the letters brought no meaning with them.

In about five minutes Louis said,

“There, I have finished.” And he rang for his valet.

“Joseph,” said he, “I am at home to no one, not even to the Baron Giordano. If he calls, ask him to wait in the salon. I wish to be alone with this gentlemen for ten minutes.”

The valet shut the door and disappeared.

“Now, my dear Alexander, listen. Giordano is a Corsican, and has Corsican ideas. I cannot, therefore, confide all I desire to him. I will ask him to keep the secret, that’s all. But as regards yourself, I wish you, if you will permit me, to request that you will promise to observe my instructions.”

“Certainly. Is not that the duty of a second?”

“A duty more real than you imagine, for you can save our family a second misfortune if you will.”

“A second misfortune!” I exclaimed.

“Wait. Read this letter.”

I took the letter addressed to Madame de Franchi, and read as follows, with growing astonishment: —

“MY DEAREST MOTHER, —

“If I did not know that you possessed Spartan fortitude allied with Christian submission, I would have used means to prepare you for the blow in store for you – for when you receive this letter you will have but one son!

“Lucien, my dear brother, love our mother for both in future.

“For some time I have been suffering from brain fever. I paid no attention to the premonitory symptoms – the doctor came too late. Darling mother, there is no hope for me now. I cannot be saved but by a miracle, and what right have I to suppose that Providence will work a miracle on my behalf?

“I am writing to you in a lucid interval. If I die, this letter will be posted immediately after my death; for in the selfishness of my love for you I wish that you should know that I am dead without regretting anything in the world except your tenderness and my brother’s.

“Adieu, mother!

“Do not weep for me. It is the soul that lives, not the body, and when the latter perishes the former will still live and love you.

“Adieu, Lucien! Never leave our mother; and remember that she has you only to look to now.

“Your Son,“Your Brother,“LOUIS DE FRANCHI.”

When I had finished the letter I turned to the writer and said —

“Well, and what does this mean?”

“Do you not understand?” he said.

“No!”

“I am going to be shot at ten minutes past nine.”

“You are going to be shot?”

“Yes.”

“You are mad! Why, what has put such an idea into your head?”

“I am not mad, my dear friend. I have been warned – that’s all.”

“Warned! By whom?”

“My brother has already told you, I think, that the male members of our family enjoy a singular privilege?”

“True,” I replied, shuddering, in spite of myself. “He spoke to me about apparitions.”

“Quite so. Well, then, my father appeared to me last night. That is why you find me so pallid. The sight of the dead pales the living!”

I gazed at him with astonishment, not unmixed with terror.

“You saw your father last night, you say?”

“Yes.”

“And he spoke to you?”

“He announced my death!”

“Oh, it was some terrible dream!”

“It was a terrible reality.”

“You were asleep, my friend.”

“I was wide awake. Do you not believe that a father can appear to his son?”

I hung my head, for at the bottom of my heart I did believe in the possibility.

“What passed between you?” I asked.

“It is a very simple and very natural story. I was reading, expecting my father – for I knew if any danger threatened that he would appear to me – and at midnight the lamp burnt low, the door opened slowly, and my father appeared.”

“In what form?” I asked.

“Just as if he were alive – dressed in his usual manner – only he was very pale, and his eyes were without expression.”

“Good heavens!” I ejaculated.

“He slowly approached my bed. I raised myself with my elbow, and said, ‘You are welcome, father.’

“He came close, and regarded me fixedly, and it then appeared to me as if some sort of paternal solicitude was expressed in his face.”

“Go on,” I said; “this is terrible!”

“Then his lips moved, and, though I could hear no sound, I seemed to hear his words distinctly, though distant as an echo.”

“What did he say?”

“ ‘Think of God, my son!’

“ ‘I shall be killed in this duel, then?’ I asked.

“I saw the tears roll down the pallid visage of the spectre.

“ ‘And at what hour?’

“He pointed towards the timepiece. I followed the direction of his finger. The clock showed ten minutes past nine.

“ ‘So be it, my father,’ I said; ‘God’s will be done. I leave my mother, but I rejoin you.’

“Then a faint smile passed over his face, he waved me a sign of farewell and glided away.

“The door opened as he advanced towards it, and when he had disappeared it shut of its own accord.”

This recital was so simply and so naturally told, that it was evident to me the event had occurred just as de Franchi had related it, or he was the victim of an illusion, which he had believed to be real in consequence of the pre-occupation of his mind, and was therefore all the more terrible.

I wiped the perspiration from my forehead.

“Now,” continued Louis; “you know my brother, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

“What do you think he will do when he learns that I have been killed in a duel?”

“He will leave Sullacaro at once to challenge the man who has killed you.”

“Just so, and if he is killed in his turn, my mother will be thrice a widow; widowed by the loss of her husband, widowed by the loss of her two sons.”

“Ah! I understand. This is fearful!”

“Well, this must be avoided, and that is why I have written this letter. Believing that I have died from brain fever my brother will not seek to avenge me, and my mother will be the more easily consoled, knowing it was the will of God, and that I did not fall by the hand of man. At least – ”

“At least what?” I repeated.

“Oh, nothing,” replied Louis. “I hope that will not come to pass.”

I saw that he was referring to some personal fear, and I did not insist farther.

At this moment the door opened, and the Baron de Giordano entered.

“My dear de Franchi,” he said, “I respect your privacy more than anything, but it is past eight, and the meeting is appointed for nine; we have quite a league and a half to drive, and we should start at once.”

“I am ready, my dear fellow,” said Louis. “I have told my friend here all I had to say to him.”

He put his finger on his lips as our eyes met.

“For you, my friend,” he continued, turning to the table and taking up a sealed letter, “there is this; if anything should happen to me read this letter, and I pray you to carry out my request contained in it.”

“To the very letter,” replied the Baron.

“You were to provide the arms,” said Louis.

“Yes,” I replied, “but just as I was coming away I found that one of the dogs did not bark properly, so we shall be obliged to get a case of pistols from Devisme.”

Louis looked at me, smiled, and held out his hand. He knew quite well that I did not wish to see him killed with my pistols.

“Have you a carriage?” he asked; “if not I will send Joseph for one.”

“My coupé is here,” said the Baron, “and can carry three at a pinch; besides, my horses will take us more quickly than a fiacre.”

“Let us go,” said Louis.

We went downstairs. Joseph was waiting at the door.

“Shall I accompany you, sir?” he said.

“No, Joseph,” replied his master, “I shall not require your services to-day.”

Then, stepping back a pace and pressing a roll of gold into the man’s hand, he said, “Take this, and if at any time I have appeared brusque to you, pardon my ill-humour.”

“Oh, monsieur!” said Joseph, with tears in his eyes, “what is the meaning of this?”

“Chut!” said Louis, and he sprang into the carriage.

“He is a good servant,” he murmured, “and if either of you can ever be of use to him I shall be obliged.”

“Is he about to leave you?” said the Baron.

“No,” said Louis, smiling; “I am leaving him, that is all!”

We stopped at Devismes just long enough to secure a case of pistols, powder and bullets, and then resumed our way at a brisk trot.

CHAPTER XVII

WE reached Vincennes at five minutes to nine.

Another carriage, that of Chateau Renaud, arrived at the same time.

We proceeded into the wood by different paths. Our carriages were to await us in the broad avenue. A few minutes later we met at the rendezvous.

“Gentlemen,” said Louis, “recollect that no arrangement is possible now.”

“Nevertheless – ,” I said

“Oh, my dear sir,” he replied, “after what I have told you, you should be the last person to think that any reconciliation is possible.”

I bowed before this absolute will, which for me was supreme.

We left Louis near the carriages, and advanced towards M. de Boissy and M. de Chateaugrand.

The Baron de Giordano carried the case of pistols.

The seconds exchanged salutes.

“Gentlemen,” said the Baron, “under these circumstances the shortest compliments are the best, for we may be interrupted any moment. We were requested to provide weapons – here they are. Examine them if you please. We have just procured them from the gunsmith, and we give you our word of honour that M. Louis de Franchi has not even seen them.”

“Such an assurance is unnecessary, gentlemen,” replied Chateaugrand, “we know with whom we have to deal,” and taking one pistol, while M. de Boissy took the other, the seconds examined the bore.

“These are ordinary pistols, and have never been used,” said the Baron; “now the question is, how shall the principals fire.”

“My advice,” said M. de Boissy, “is that they should fire just as they are accustomed to do, together.”

“Very well,” said the Baron Giordano, “then all chances are equalized.”

“Will you advise M. de Franchi, then, and we will tell M. de Chateau Renaud, monsieur.”

“Now that is settled, will you have the goodness to load the pistols?”

Each one took a pistol, measured carefully the charges of powder, took two bullets at hazard, and rammed them home.

While the weapons were being loaded, I approached Louis, who received me with a smile.

“You won’t forget what I asked you?” he said, “and you will obtain from Giordano a promise that he will say nothing to my mother, or even to my brother. Will you take care, also, that this affair does not get into the papers, or, if it does, that no names are mentioned.”

“You are still of opinion, then, this duel will prove fatal to you?” I said.

“I am more than ever convinced of it,” he replied, “but you will do me this justice at least, that I met death like a true Corsican.”

“My dear de Franchi, your calmness is so astounding that it gives me hopes that you yourself are not convinced on this point.”

Louis took out his watch.

“I have but seven minutes to live,” he said; “here is my watch, keep it, I beg of you, in remembrance of me.” I took the watch, and shook my friend’s hand.

“In eight minutes I hope to restore it to you,” I said.

“Don’t speak of that,” he replied. “See, here are the others.”

“Gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand, “a little distance from here, on the right, is an open space where I had a little practice of my own last year; shall we proceed thither – we shall be less liable to interruption.”

“If you will lead the way,” said the Baron Giordano, “we will follow.”

The Viscount preceded us to the spot indicated. It was about thirty paces distant, at the bottom of a gentle slope surrounded on all sides by a screen of brushwood, and seemed fitted by nature as the theatre of such an event as was about to take place.

“M. Martelli,” said the Viscount, “will you measure the distance by me?” The Baron assented, and thus side by side he and M. de Chateaugrand measured twenty ordinary paces.

I was then left for a few seconds alone with M. de Franchi.

“Apropos,” he said, “you will find my will on the table where I was writing when you came in this morning.”

“Good,” I replied, “you may rest quite easy on that score.”

“When you are ready, gentlemen,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand.

“I am here,” replied Louis. “Adieu, dear friend! thank you for all the trouble you have taken for me, without counting all you will have to do for me later on.” I pressed his hand. It was cold, but perfectly steady.

“Now,” I said, “forget the apparition of last night, and aim your best.”

“You remember de Freyschutz?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you know, then, that every bullet has its billet. Adieu!”

He met the Baron Giordano, who handed him the pistol; he took it, and, without looking at it, went and placed himself at the spot marked by the handkerchief.

M. de Chateau Renaud had already taken up his position.

There was a moment of mournful silence, during which the young men saluted their seconds, then their adversary’s seconds, and finally each other.

M. de Chateau Renaud appeared perfectly accustomed to these affairs, and was smiling like a man sure of success; perhaps, also, he was aware that Louis de Franchi never had fired a pistol in his life.

Louis was calm and collected, his fine head looked almost like a marble bust.

“Well, gentlemen,” said Chateau Renaud, “you see we are waiting.”

Louis gave me one last glance, and smiling, raised his eyes to heaven.

“Now, gentlemen, make ready,” said Chateaugrand. Then, striking his hands one against the other, he cried —

“One! Two! Three!”

The two shots made but one detonation.

An instant afterwards I saw Louis de Franchi turn round twice and then fall upon one knee.

M. de Chateau Renaud remained upright. The lappel of his coat had been shot through.

I rushed towards Louis de Franchi.

“You are wounded?” I said.

He attempted to reply, but in vain. A red froth appeared upon his lips.

At the same moment he let fall his pistol, and pressed his hand against his right side.

On looking closely, we perceived a tiny hole not large enough for the point of a little finger.

I begged the Baron to hasten to the barracks, and bring the surgeon of the regiment.

But de Franchi collected all his strength, and stopping Giordano, signed that all assistance would be useless. This exertion caused him to fall on both knees.

M. de Chateau Renaud kept at a distance, but his seconds now approached the wounded man.

Meanwhile, we had opened his coat and torn away his waistcoat and shirt.

The ball had entered the right side, below the sixth rib, and had come out a little above the left hip.

At each breath the wounded man drew, the blood welled out. It was evident he was mortally hurt.

“M. de Franchi,” said the Viscount de Chateaugrand, “we regret extremely the issue of this sad affair. We trust you bear no malice against M. de Chateau Renaud.”

“Yes, yes,” murmured the wounded man, “I forgive him.”

Then turning towards me with an effort he said,

“Remember your promise!”

“I swear to you I will do all you wish.”

“And now,” he said, smiling, “look at the watch!”

He breathed a long sigh, and fell back. That sigh was his last.

I looked at the watch, it was exactly ten minutes past nine.

I turned to Louis de Franchi – he was dead.

We took back the body to the Rue de Helder, and while the Baron went to make the usual declaration to the Commissary of Police, I went upstairs with Joseph.

The poor lad was weeping bitterly.

As I entered, my eyes unconsciously turned towards the timepiece; it marked ten minutes past nine.

No doubt he had forgotten to wind it, and it had stopped at that hour.

The Baron Giordano returned almost immediately with the officers, who put the seals on the property.

The Baron wished to advise the relatives and friends of the affair, but I begged him, before he did so, to read the letter that Louis had handed to him before we set out that morning.

The letter contained his request that the cause of his death should be concealed from his brother, and that his funeral should be as quiet as possible.

The Baron Giordano charged himself with these details, and I sought MM. de Boissy and de Chateaugrand, to request their silence respecting the unhappy affair, and to induce Chateau Renaud to leave Paris for a time, without mentioning my reason for this last suggestion.

They promised me to do all they could to meet my views, and as I walked to Chateau Renaud’s house I posted the letter to Madame de Franchi, informing her that her son had died of brain fever.

CHAPTER XVIII

CONTRARY to custom, the duel was very little talked about; even the papers were silent on the subject.

A few intimate friends followed the body to Père la Chaise. Chateau Renaud refused to quit Paris, although pressed to do so.

At one time I thought of following Louis’ letter to Corsica with one from myself, but although my intentions were good, the misleading statements I should have to make were so repugnant to me that I did not do so. Besides, I was quite convinced that Louis himself had fully weighed before he had decided upon his course of action.

So at the risk of being thought indifferent, or even ungrateful, I kept silence, and I was sure that the Baron Giordano had done as much.

Five days after the duel, at about eleven o’clock in the evening, I was seated by my table in a rather melancholy frame of mind, when my servant entered and shutting the door quickly behind him said, in an agitated whisper, that M. de Franchi desired to speak with me.

I looked at him steadily; he was quite pale.

“Whom did you say, Victor?” I asked.

“Oh, monsieur, in truth I hardly know myself.”

“What M. de Franchi wishes to speak to me?”

“Monsieur’s friend. The gentleman who was here two or three times.”

“You are mad, my good man. Do you not know that I had the misfortune to lose my friend five days ago?”

“Yes, sir; and that is the reason I am so upset. He rang, I was in the ante-chamber, and opened the door, but recoiled at his appearance. However, he entered, and asked if you were at home. I replied that you were, and then he said, ‘Go and announce M. de Franchi, who wishes to speak with your master,’ and so I came.”

“You are stupid, Victor, the ante-chamber is not properly lighted. You were asleep, no doubt, and did not hear correctly. Go, and ask the gentleman his name.”

“It would be useless, sir. I swear to you I am not deceived. I heard him, and saw him, distinctly.”

“Then go and show him in.”

Victor turned tremblingly to the door, opened it, and then standing still in the room, said —

“Will monsieur be kind enough to come in?”

I immediately heard the footsteps of my visitor crossing the ante-chamber, and sure enough, at the door there appeared M. de Franchi.

I confess that I was terrified, and took a step backwards as he approached.

“I trust you will excuse my appearance so late,” said my visitor; “I only arrived ten minutes ago, and you will understand that I could not wait till tomorrow without seeing you.”

“Oh, my dear Lucien,” I exclaimed, advancing quickly, and embracing him. “Then it is really you.” And, in spite of myself, tears really came into my eyes.