"'I am going to open the door to my father, who has come to bid me adieu,' I replied.
"It was then she jumped out of bed and insisted upon my lying down again. I cried for a long time and very bitterly, saying, 'Papa is at the door, and I want to see papa again before he goes away for ever.'"
"And has the apparition ever returned since?" asked Lucien.
"No, although I have often called upon it; but, perhaps, Providence permitted to the innocence and purity of the child what it declines to accord to the sinfulness of the man."
"Well, then," said Lucien smiling, "in our family we are more fortunate than you."
"Then you are enabled to see your deceased parents?"
"Yes, always when any great event is about to happen or has been accomplished."
"And to what do you attribute this privilege?"
"I will tell you the tradition that has been handed down. You remember that I told you that Savilia died leaving two sons."
"Yes, I recollect."
"Well, these children grew up concentrating on each other the affection they would have bestowed on other relatives had any been alive. They swore nothing should separate them, not even death, and after some incantation or other they wrote with their blood on two pieces of parchment, which they exchanged, the reciprocal oath that whichever died first should appear to the other at the moment of his own death, and, subsequently, at every important epoch of his brother's life. Three months afterwards one of the two brothers was killed in an ambuscade at the moment when the survivor was sealing a letter addressed to him. Just as he was pressing the signet upon the burning wax he heard a sigh behind him, and, turning round, perceived his brother standing behind him, and touching his shoulder, although he felt no pressure from the hand. Then, by a mechanical movement, he held out the letter that was destined for his brother, the spirit took the letter and disappeared. On the night before the survivor's death, the ghost appeared again.
"There is no doubt that the brothers not only made this engagement for themselves, but it applies also to their descendants, for spirits have appeared not only at the moment of the death of those who had passed away, but also on the eve of any great event in their lives."
"And have you never seen any apparition?"
"No; but like my father, who, during the night preceding his death, was warned by his father that he was about to die, so I presume my brother and I inherit the privilege of our ancestors, not having done anything to forfeit it."
"And is this privilege accorded to the males of the family only?"
"Yes."
"That is strange."
"It is as I say."
"And is this privilege accorded to the males of the family only?"
"Yes."
"That is strange."
"It is as I say."
I looked at the young man as he was speaking to me. He was cool, calm, and grave, and I could not help repeating with Hamlet
"There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."
In Paris I should have thought that this young man was hoaxing me; but here in Corsica, in a little unknown village, one must look upon him either as a foolish person endeavouring to deceive one for his own purposes, or as a privileged being amongst other men.
"And now," he said, after a long silence, "are you satisfied?"
"Yes, thank you," I answered. "I appreciate your confidence, and will promise to keep your secret."
"Oh, goodness," he said, laughing, "there is no secret in the matterthe first peasant you meet would tell you all I have told you; I only hope that in Paris my brother has not boasted of this privilege, which would only cause men to laugh, and would frighten the ladies."
So saying, he bade me goodnight, and retired to his room.
Although fatigued, I was not able to sleep for some time, and when I did at last sleep I was restless.
I appeared to see in a confused manner in my dreams all the people with whom I had come in contact that day. It was only when day broke that I fell into a sound sleep, and was awakened by the striking of a clock, close to my bed, apparently.
I rang the bell, without rising, for my lazy predecessor had provided a bellrope close at hand, the only one probably in the village.
Griffo immediately appeared, carrying some warm water; I saw that this valet had been well drilled.
Lucien, he said, had twice inquired whether I was awake, and had told him that if I did not ring before halfpast nine he would call me.
It was now twentyfive minutes past nine, so it would not be long before he came.
He soon made his appearance, dressed very elegantly in French style, with a black frock coat and white trowsers.
He noticed that I looked at him with some surprise.
"I hope you are admiring my dress," he said; "another proof that I am becoming civilized."
"Yes, indeed," I replied, "and I confess I am considerably astonished to find that you possess such a tailor in Ajaccio. I shall look quite the country bumpkin beside you."
"I assure you my dress is quite Parisian, my dear friend. You see my brother and I being exactly the same height, he for a joke sent me a regular outfit, which I only wear on grand occasions, to receive the prefect, for instance, or when the commandant makes his departmental inspection; or, better still, when I receive a guest like yourself, and when that pleasure is combined with such important business as we are about to accomplish today."
There was in this young man's manner of speaking a polished irony, and goodnature withal, which at once set people at their ease, and never passed the bounds of perfect politeness.
I simply bowed in reply, while he carefully inducted his hands into a pair of kid gloves of Paris manufacture.
As now attired, he looked a thorough Parisian.
All this time I was dressing rapidly.
A quarter to ten struck.
"Come along," said Lucien, "if you wish to see the play. I think it is time we took our seats, unless, indeed, you would rather have breakfast first, which appears to me only reasonable."
"Thank you, I seldom eat before eleven or twelve, so I am ready to face both operations."
"Come along, then."
I took up my hat and followed him upstairs.
Chapter XI
FROM the top of the steps by which one reached the door of the chateau usually inhabited by Madame de Franchi and her son, one could look over the square.
This square, so silent the night before, was now full of people, but curiously enough there was not a man to be seen, the crowd was composed of women and children under twelve.
On the lowest step of the church door we could perceive a man girdled with a tricoloured sash. This was the mayor.
Under the portico, another man clothed in black was seated at a table. This was the notary, and the written paper under his hand was the act of reconciliation.
I took my place beside the table with the sponsors of the Orlandi. On the other sida were the sponsors of the Colona faction. Lucien stood behind the notary so as to show that he acted for both.
In the choir of the church one could perceive the priests ready to solemnize the mass.
The clock struck ten.
At that moment a shiver pervaded the crowd and all eyes were turned towards the end of the street, if one could so call the unequal interval between the houses.
Immediately on the mountain side appeared the Orlandi, and in the direction of the river was the Colona, each followed by his partisans, but as had been arranged neither party carried arms.
The two chiefs presented a very vivid contrast.
Orlandi, as I said, was tall, brown, agile and thin.
Colona, on the other hand, was short, stoutish, and vigorous; he had red hair and beard, both of which wore short and curly.
Both men carried olive branches, the symbol of peace, which was the idea of the worthy mayor.
But besides this olive branch, the Colona held a white fowl by the feet; this bird was destined to replace that which had given rise to the quarrel, and the fowl was alive.
This last was a point that had long been discussed, and had very nearly upset the whole arrangement. The Colona looked upon it as a double humiliation to have to render back a living fowl for the one which his aunt had thrown dead in the face of the cousin of the Orlandi.
However, by force of reasoning, Lucien had persuaded the Colona to provide the fowl, as he had managed to induce the Orlandi to accept it.
When the two rivals appeared, the bells, which until now had been silent, broke forth into a merry peal.
When they caught sight of each other both Orlandi and his brother made a similar movement of repulsion, but, nevertheless, they both continued their way.
Just opposite the church door they stopped, a few paces only dividing them.
If three days previously these men had caught sight of each other within a hundred paces, one of the two certainly would have remained on the field.
For about five minutes there was a profound silence, a silence which, notwithstanding the peaceful nature of the ceremony, was anything but pacific.
Then at length the mayor spoke.
"Well, Colona," he said, "do you not know that you have to speak first?"
Colona made an effort and muttered some words in the Corsican patois.
I fancied I understood him to say that he regretted having been in Vendetta with his good neighbour Orlandi, and that he offered in reparation the white hen which he held in his hand.
Orlandi waited until his adversary had finished speaking, and replied in some words which I took to be a promise that he would forget everything but the solemn reconciliation that had that day taken place in the presence of Monsieur Lucien and the notary.
After that the rivals preserved a dogged silence.
"Now, gentlemen," said the mayor, "you have only got to shake hands."
By a simultaneous movement the rivals clasped their hands behind their backs.
The mayor descended from his elevated seat, and seizing the hand of Colona sought for the hand of the Orlandi, and having possessed himself of both he, with some effort, which he endeavoured to conceal with a smile, succeeded in joining the two hands.
The notary seized the moment, while the mayor held the two hands together, to stand up and read the deed declaring the feud to be at an end. The document was as follows:
"In the presence of us, Giuseppe Antonia Sarrola, Notary Royal of Sullacaro in the Province of Sartène.
"In the grand place of the village opposite the church, in the presence of the mayor, the sponsors, and all the population.
"Between Gaetano Orso Orlandi, called Orlandini.