The Corsican Brothers Part 5

"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 appet.i.te, 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 Sartene, 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 n.o.ble 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 a.s.sa.s.sin 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 subst.i.tute the judgment of men for the justice of G.o.d; 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 prefect 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 G.o.d 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 Sartene?" [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. Merimee 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 Sartene 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 prefect 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 pa.s.sed his word for his brother, and that his brother did not fulfil the engagement."