CHAPTER I.

by Alexandre Dumas

　　IN the beginning of March, 1841, I was travelling in Corsica.Nothing is more picturesque and more easy to accomplish than a journeyin Corsica. You can embark at Toulon, in twenty hours you will be inAjaccio, 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 ahorse you can do so for five francs a-day; if you purchase one you canhave a good animal for one hundred and fifty francs. And don't sneerat the moderate price, for the horse hired or purchased will performas great feats as the famous Gascon horse which leaped over the PontNeuf, which neither Prospero nor Nautilus, the heroes of Chantilly andthe Champ de Mars could do. He will traverse roads which Balmathimself could not cross without _crampons,_ and will go over bridgesupon which Auriol would need a balancing pole.As for the traveller, all he has to do is to give the horse his headand let him go as he pleases; he does not mind the danger. We may addthat with this horse, which can go anywhere, the traveller canaccomplish his fifteen leagues a day without stopping to bait.From time to time, while the tourist may be halting to examine someancient castle, built by some old baron or legendary hero, or tosketch a tower built ages ago by the Genoese, the horse will becontented to graze by the road side, or to pluck the mosses from therocks in the vicinity.As to lodging for the night, it is still more simple in Corsica. Thetraveller having arrived at a village, passes down through theprincipal street, and making his own choice of the house wherein hewill rest, he knocks at the door. An instant after, the master ormistress will appear upon the threshold, invite the traveller todismount; offer him a share of the family supper and the whole of hisown 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 wouldregard it as an insult if the subject were broached. If, however, theservant happen to be a young girl, one may fitly offer her a colouredhandkerchief, with which she can make up a picturesque coiffure for afête 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 formerbeing in reduced circumstances, offer their services to the latter inconsideration of board and lodging and a few piastres per month.And it must not be supposed that the masters are not well served bytheir cousins to the fifteenth and sixteenth degree, because thecontrary is the case, and the custom is not thought anything of.Corsica is a French Department certainly, but Corsica is very far frombeing France.As for robbers, one never hears of them, yet there are bandits inabundance; but these gentlemen must in no wise be confounded one withanother.So go without fear to Ajaccio, to Bastia, with a purse full of moneyhanging to your saddle-bow, and you may traverse the whole islandwithout a shadow of danger, but do not go from Oceana to Levaco, ifyou happen to have an enemy who has declared the Vendetta against you,for I would not answer for your safety during that short journey ofsix miles.Well, then, I was in Corsica, as I have said, at the beginning of themonth of March, and I was alone; Jadin having remained at Rome.I had come across from Elba, had disembarked at Bastia, and there hadpurchased a horse at the above-mentioned price.I had visited Corte and Ajaccio, and just then I was traversing theprovince of Sartène.On the particular day of which I am about to speak I was riding fromSartène to Sullacaro.The day's journey was short, perhaps a dozen leagues, in consequenceof detours, and on account of my being obliged to climb the slopes ofthe mountain chain, which, like a backbone, runs through the island. Ihad 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 thesummit of the hill, which at the same time overlooks Olmeto andSullacaro. 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 almostdeserted. Only a few women were visible, and they walked quicklyalong, and frequently looked cautiously around them.As in virtue of the rules of Corsican hospitality, to which I havealready referred, it was open to me to choose for my resting place anyone of the hundred or hundred and twenty houses of which the villagewas composed, I therefore carried my eyes from house to house tillthey lighted upon one which promised comfortable quarters. It was asquare mansion, built in a fortified sort of style and machicolated infront of the windows and above the door.This was the first time I had seen these domestic fortifications; butI may mention that the province of Sartène is the classic ground ofthe Vendetta."Ah, good!" said my guide, as he followed the direction of myhand--"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 wantfor experience in these matters."I should note here that in this 86th department of France Italian isuniversally spoken."But," I said, "may it not be inconvenient if I demand hospitalityfrom a lady, for if I understand you rightly, this house belongs to alady.""No doubt," he replied, with an air of astonishment; "but whatinconvenience does your lordship think you will cause?""If the lady be young," I replied, moved by a feeling ofpropriety--or, perhaps, let us say, of Parisian self-respect--"a nightpassed under her roof might compromise her.""Compromise her!" repeated the guide, endeavouring to probe themeaning of the word I had rendered in Italian with all the emphasiswhich one would hazard a word in a strange tongue."Yes, of course," I replied, beginning to feel impatient; "the lady isa 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 entitledto call myself young."Will she receive a young man!" exclaimed the guide; "why, whatdifference can it make whether you are young or old?"I saw that I should get no information out of him by this mode ofinterrogation, 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 thebetter. 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 mostmatter-of-fact tone. "Well, now, let us push on for the house ofMadame Savilia de Franchi."We accordingly resumed our journey, and entered the village about tenminutes afterwards.I now remarked what I had not noticed from the hill, namely, thatevery house was fortified similarly to Madame Savilia's. Not socompletely, perhaps, for that the poverty of the inhabitants could notattain to, but purely and simply with oaken planks, by which thewindows 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 theywere known as _archères_--a reply which convinced me that they wereused anterior to the invention of firearms.As we advanced through the streets we were able the more fully tocomprehend the profound character of the solitude and sadness of theplace.Many houses appeared to have sustained a siege, and the marks of thebullets dotted the walls.From time to time as we proceeded we caught sight of a curious eyeflashing upon us from an embrasure; but it was impossible todistinguish whether the spectator were a man or a woman.We at length reached the house which I had indicated to my guide, andwhich 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 inreality, 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 beenmade by the passage of a bullet; but they were of old date, and couldnot have been made within the previous ten years.Scarcely had my guide knocked, when the door was opened, nothesitatingly, nor in a timid manner, but widely, and a valet, orrather I should say a man appeared.It is the livery that makes the valet, and the individual who thenopened the door to us wore a velvet waistcoat, trowsers of the samematerial, and leather gaiters. The breeches were fastened at the waistby a parti-coloured silk sash, from the folds of which protruded thehandle of a Spanish knife."My friend," I said, "is it indiscreet of me, who knows nobody inSullacaro, to ask hospitality of your mistress?""Certainly not, your Excellency," he replied; "the stranger doeshonour to the house before which he stops." "Maria," he continued,turning to a servant, who was standing behind him, "will you informMadame Savilia that a French traveller seeks hospitality?"As he finished speaking he came down the eight rough ladder-like stepswhich led to the entrance door, and took the bridle of my horse.I dismounted."Your Excellency need have no further concern," he said; "all yourluggage will be taken to your room."I profited by this gracious invitation to idleness--one of the mostagreeable which can be extended to a traveller.