Chapter 3

HE was, as my guide had told me, a young man of about twenty-one years of age, with black hair and eyes, his face browned by the sun, rather under than over the average height, but remarkably well-proportioned.

In his haste to welcome me he had come up, just as he was, in his riding-costume, which was composed of a redingote of green cloth, to which a cartridge-pouch gave a somewhat military air, grey pantaloons with leather let in on the inner side of the legs, boots and spurs. His head-dress was a cap similar to those worn by our Chasseurs d�Afrique.

From either side of his pouch there hung a gourd and a pistol, and he carried an English carbine in addition.

Notwithstanding the youthful appearance of my host, whose upper lip was as yet scarcely shaded by a moustache, he wore an air of independence and resolution, which struck me very forcibly.

Here was a man fitted for strife, and accustomed to live in the midst of danger, but without despising it, grave because he was solitary, calm because he was strong.

With a single glance he took me all in, my luggage, my arms, the dress I had just taken off, and that which I had just donned.

His glance was as rapid and as sure as that of a man whose very life may depend upon a hasty survey of his surroundings.

�I trust you will excuse me if I disturb you,� he said; �but I come with good intentions. I wish to see if you require anything. I am always somewhat uneasy when any of you gentlemen from the continent pay us a visit, for we are still so uncivilized, we Corsicans, that it is really with fear and trembling that we exercise, particularly to Frenchmen, our own hospitality, which will, I fear, soon be the only thing that will remain to us.�

�You have no reason to fear,� I replied; �it would be difficult to say what more a traveller can require beyond what Madame de Franchi has supplied. Besides,� I continued, glancing round the apartment, �I must confess I do not perceive any of the want of civilization you speak of so frankly, and were it not for the charming prospect from those windows, I should fancy myself in an apartment in the Chaussee d�Antin.�

�Yes,� returned the young man, �it is rather a mania with my poor brother Louis; he is so fond of living � la Fran�aise; but I very much doubt whether, when he leaves Paris, the poor attempt at civilization here will appear to him sufficient on his return home as it formerly did.�

�Has your brother been long away from Corsica?� I inquired.

�For the last ten months.�

�You expect him back soon?�

�Oh, not for three or four years.�

�That is a very long separation for two brothers, who probably were never parted before.�

�Yes, and particularly if they love each other as we do.�

�No doubt he will come to see you before he finishes his studies?�

�Probably; he has promised us so much, at least.�

�In any case, nothing need prevent you from paying him a visit?�

�No, I never leave Corsica.�

There was in his tone, as he made this reply, that love of country which astonishes the rest of the universe.

I smiled.

�It appears strange to you,� he said, smiling in his turn, �when I tell you that I do not wish to leave a miserable country like ours; but you must know that I am as much a growth of the island as the oak or the laurel; the air I breathe must be impregnated with the odours of the sea and of the mountains. I must have torrents to cross, rocks to scale, forests to explore. I must have space; liberty is necessary to me, and if you were to take me to live in a town I believe I should die.�

�But how is it there is such a great difference between you and your brother in this respect?�

�And you would add with so great a physical resemblance, if you knew him.�

�Are you, then, so very much alike?�

�So much so, that when we were children our parents were obliged to sew a distinguishing mark upon our clothes.�

�And as you grew up?� I suggested.

�As we grew up our habits caused a very slight change in our appearance, that is all. Always in a study, poring over books and drawings, my brother grew somewhat pale, while I, being always in the open air, became bronzed, as you see.�

�I hope,� I said, �that you will permit me to judge of this resemblance, and if you have any commission for Monsieur Louis, you will charge me with it.�

�Yes, certainly, with great pleasure, if you will be so kind. Now, will you excuse me? I see you are more advanced in your toilet than I, and supper will be ready in a quarter of an hour.�

�You surely need not trouble to change on my account.�

�You must not reproach me with this, for you have yourself set me the example; but, in any case, I am now in a riding dress, and must change it for a mountaineer�s costume, as, after supper, I have to make an excursion in which boots and spurs would only serve to hinder me.�

�You are going out after supper, then?� I asked.

�Yes,� he replied, �to a rendezvous.�

I smiled.

�Ah, not in the sense you understand it�this is a matter of business.�

�Do you think me so presumptuous as to believe I have a right to your conscience?�

�Why not? One should live so as to be able to proclaim what one has done. I never had a mistress, and I never shall have one. If my brother should marry, and have children, it is probable that I shall never take a wife. If, on the contrary, he does not marry, perhaps I shall, so as to prevent our race from becoming extinct. Did I not tell you,� he added, laughing, �that I am a regular savage, and had come into the world a hundred years too late? But I continue to chatter here like a crow, and I shall not be ready by the time supper is on the table.�

�But cannot we continue the conversation?� I said. �Your chamber, I believe, is opposite, and we can talk through the open doors.�

�We can do better than that; you can come into my room while I dress. You are a judge of arms, I fancy. Well, then, you shall look at mine. There are some there which are valuable�from an historical point of view, I mean.�