The Corsican Brothers. Dumas Alexandre
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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.
CHAPTER II
I SLOWLY ascended the steps and entered the house, and at a corner of the corridor I found myself face to face with a tall lady dressed in black.
I understood at once that this lady of thirty-eight or forty years of age, and still beautiful, was the mistress of the house.
“Madame,” said I, bowing deeply, “I am afraid you will think me intrusive, but the custom of the country may be my excuse, and your servant’s invitation my authority to enter.”
“You are welcome to the mother,” replied Madame de Franchi, “and you will almost immediately be welcomed by the son. From this moment, sir, the house belongs to you; use it as if it were your own.”
“I come but to beg hospitality for one night, madame,” I answered; “to-morrow morning, at daybreak, I will take my departure.”
“You are free to do as you please, sir; but I hope that you will change your mind, and that we shall have the honour of your company for a longer period.”
I bowed again, and Madame continued —
“Maria, show this gentleman to my son Louis’ chamber; light the fire at once, and carry up some hot water. You will excuse me,” she said, turning again to me as the servant departed, “but I always fancy that the first wants of a tired traveller are warm water and a fire. Will you please to follow my maid, sir; and you need have no hesitation in asking her for anything you may require. We shall sup in an hour, and my son, who will be home by that time, will have the honour to wait upon you.”
“I trust you will excuse my travelling dress, madame.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied smiling; “but on condition that you, on your part, will excuse the rusticity of your reception.”
I bowed my thanks, and followed the servant upstairs.
The room was situated on the first floor, and looked out towards the rear of the house, upon a pretty and extensive garden, well planted with various trees, and watered by a charming little stream, which fell into the Tavaro.
At the further end the prospect was bounded by a hedge, so thick as to appear like a wall. As is the case in almost all Italian houses, the walls of the rooms were white-washed and frescoed.
I understood immediately that Madame de Franchi had given me this, her absent son’s chamber, because it was the most comfortable one in the house.
While Maria was lighting the fire and fetching the hot water, I took it into my head to make an inventory of the room, and try to arrive at an estimation of the character of its usual occupant by those means.
I immediately put this idea into execution, and beginning with the left hand, I took mental notes of the various objects by which I was surrounded.
The furniture all appeared to be modern, a circumstance which in that part of the island, where civilization had not then taken deep root, appeared to indicate no inconsiderable degree of luxury. It was composed of an iron bedstead and bedding, a sofa, four arm-chairs, six other occasional chairs, a wardrobe, half book case and half bureau, all of mahogany, from the first cabinet maker in Ajaccio.
The sofas and chairs were covered with chintz, and curtains of similar material fell before the windows, and hung round the bed.
I had got so far with my inventory when Maria left the room, and I was enabled to push my investigation a little closer.
I opened the book-case, and found within a collection of the works of our greatest poets. I noticed Corneille, Racine, Molière, La Fontaine, Ronsard, Victor Hugo, and Lamartine.
Our moralists – Montaigne, Pascal, Labruyère.
Our historians – Mezeray, Chateaubriand, Augustin Thierry.
Our philosophers – Cuvier, Beudant, Elie de Beaumont.
Besides these there were several volumes of romances and other books, amongst which I recognized, with a certain pride, my own “Impression of Travel.”
The keys were in the drawer of the bureau. I opened one of them.
Here I found fragments of a history of Corsica, a work upon the best means of abolishing the Vendetta, some French verses, and some Italian sonnets, all in manuscript. This was more than I expected, and I had the presumption to conclude that I need not seek much farther to form my opinion of the character of Monsieur Louis de Franchi.
He appeared to be a quiet, studious young man, a partizan of the French reformers, and then I understood why he had gone to Paris to become an advocate.
There was, without doubt, a great future for him in this course. I made all these reflections as I was dressing. My toilette, as I had hinted to Madame de Franchi, although not wanting in a certain picturesqueness, demanded that some allowance should be made for it.
It was composed of a vest of black velvet, open at seams of the sleeves, so as to keep me cooler during the heat of the day, and slashed à l’Espagnole, permitting a silken chemise to appear underneath. My legs were encased in velvet breeches to the knee, and thence protected by Spanish gaiters, embroidered in Spanish silk. A felt hat, warranted to take any shape, but particularly that of a sombrero, completed my costume.
I recommend this dress to all travellers as being the most convenient I am acquainted with, and I was in the act of dressing, when the same man who had introduced me appeared at the door.
He