Chapter Thirteen.Bell’ Demonio.As we trudged along, I had an opportunity to study to some extent the characteristics of the individuals forming my escort, and I may say without reserve that a more unprepossessing set of men it has seldom been my lot to encounter. With the solitary exception of the sergeant, who seemed a gay, careless, good-natured fellow enough, they appeared to be a thoroughly “bad lot:” low, ruffianly-looking men in their outward semblance, and—judging from their conversation, much of which, however, I failed to understand from their liberal use of what is now termed “slang”—utterly given over to the indulgence of the lowest and most degrading forms of vice, scoffing at all things pure and holy, and luxuriating in the recital of deeds of all manner of cruelty and debauchery.I had heard something of the terribly-brutalising effects of the Reign of Terror, but the conversation of these wretches gave me such a vivid insight of the incredible depths of depravity of which the human mind is sometimes capable as I could certainly not otherwise have gained, unless indeed by associating with the ruffians who gathered daily round the guillotine to insult and exult over the death-agonies of their victims.It was not to be expected that I should altogether escape the attentions of wretches such as these, and accordingly my ears were soon assailed with ribald jests and ruffianly speculations touching the mode and time of my execution, the manner in which I should bear myself, and so on; but I turned a deaf ear to it all, devoting my entire energies to the devising of some practicable method of escape, and, as it appeared to them that I understood nothing of what was said, my tormentors after a time turned their conversation to other matters.“I expect we shall very soon make another excursion in this direction,” said one.“Indeed, and for what purpose?” asked another.“Nay, then, has it not been told thee, Adolphe, that our colonel suspects one of these Corsican aristocrats of being concerned in the present rising of his countrymen, and of plotting with the accursed English for assistance?” remarked the first speaker.“Mille bombes! that it might be so. It would be rare sport to hunt the old rat out of his hole, or, better still, burn him in it. It would be a pleasant change from the dullness of mounting eternal guard, marching and countermarching every day, and all to what purpose? For my part I am tired of it, and long for a little more of the sport we had in dear Paris. Ah! it was worth living for, to see fifty or sixty of the proud aristocrats carted away to the guillotine every day. I doubt if there is such a thing as a guillotine in the whole island.”“Soyez tranquille, mon cher Adolphe! The machine is not difficult to construct. But for real amusement give me such as we had at Ostend, when Davoust shot down with grape 500 men, women, and children under the ramparts, to say nothing of those which we sent afloat in the harbour in old and leaky boats which sank with all on board. And, ah, the sport that it was to chase the people through the streets until they could fly no longer, and then bayonet them! You were there, Antoine,mon camarade! you have not forgotten the day?”“And never shall,” responded Antoine, the most ruffianly-looking of the whole party. “A day or two like that would bring these vile Corsicans to their senses. ‘Give them plenty of bayonet,’ say I. And if you want real sport, do as I did: chase the mothers until they drop, then bayonet their children first, and themselves afterwards. But do not bayonet the motherstoosoon, or you rob yourself of half your amusement.”“Good! ah, ah!verygood indeed!” laughed the wretches.“But say, Baptiste,mon cher, who is this Corsican of whom you were speaking?”“He is called Count Lorenzo Paoli,” responded Baptiste. “He has a fine place away yonder among the hills, which, it is said, would make those rich who could have the plundering of it. And, moreover, he has a daughter—ah! but she is simply divine,” and the brute smacked his lips in a way which made me long to spring at his throat. “Le cher Guiseppe—is he not delightful?—says that this boy Englishman has papers which are thought to be for this rascally Count, and if it be so,ma foi! but there will be rare doings at the chateau before long.”It may be imagined what were my feelings on hearing this.How fervently I blessed the lucky inspiration which prompted me to conceal my bag, and how much more imperative now became the necessity that I should effect my escape without delay, not only for my own sake, but in order also that I might recover possession of those compromising papers, and warn the Count of the fearful danger which threatened him.There was much more conversation of the kind recorded above, but I will not revolt the reader’s feelings by repeating it; what I have already given is intended merely to convey an idea of the unparalleled ruffianism and brutality which characterised the soldiery of the Republic at that period.The way, which was being enlivened with such delectable converse, led back through the forest which I had already traversed, only we were now passing along the road, such as it was. It consisted simply of a path of varying width, but nowhere very wide, cleared through the trees, the undergrowth of the forest forming a sort of hedge on either side of the way. The branches met overhead, veiling the path in semi-obscurity, and so completely intercepting all but an occasional ray of the sun that the ground appeared to be in a perpetual state of dampness, the clayey soil being in consequence so much cut up, notwithstanding the small amount of traffic which seemed to pass over it, that it had become almost impracticable for foot-passengers. Here and there an old tree-stump projected out of the ground, while in other places the stumps had been removed without filling in the corresponding hole. These holes were now full of water, and as they sometimes occurred in places where there was a general depression of the ground, flooded by the heavy rain of the previous night, their presence only became known when one of the party floundered in and found himself, if lucky enough to avoid going head over heels, and so securing entire immersion, up to the waist in muddy water of about the consistency of pea-soup. To add still farther to the discomfort of the journey, the ground was excessively slippery, so that, what with one difficulty and another, we made but very slow progress.We had reached and become involved in an exceptionally bad spot—a spring apparently rendering the clay so soft that the entire road for about thirty yards had been worked into a perfect quagmire, into which we sank above our knees at every step, the tenacious clay holding our feet almost as though they had been in a vice—when, without the slightest warning of any kind, a withering volley of musketry was poured in upon the devoted band from the bushes on both sides of the road, and while the smoke still enveloped us out dashed some thirty or forty Corsicans, armed, some only with their clubbed muskets, others flourishing in addition long double-edged knives of a most bloodthirsty appearance.Every man of us went down before that deadly discharge; some being killed outright, while a few, myself among the number, were only wounded. But the tragedy was soon completed; hampered as we were with the difficulties of the road, and disabled by our wounds, resistance was impossible, and before the smoke of the musketry discharge had cleared away every Frenchman had received thecoup-de-grace. I also should undoubtedly have received my quietus, had I not had the presence of mind to exclaim in French, just as a stalwart mountaineer was bending over me with his long glittering blade upraised, that I was an Englishman. The man hesitated for an instant, and that slight pause saved me. I rapidly explained who and what I was, and another individual, apparently the leader of the band, approaching at the moment, I was reprieved until an opportunity could be found for verifying my statement. In the meantime, however, my captors were kind enough to take charge of my watch, my money, and one or two other valuables which they found in my pockets.The bodies of the Frenchmen were rifled with a thoroughness and celerity which I could not but admire, their pockets being turned inside-out, and every article of the slightest value, including their weapons and ammunition, appropriated. One individual especially, who was working away with his back turned towards me, appeared to possess all the coolness and dexterity of a London pick-pocket.He was certainly not much troubled with squeamishness either; for while operating upon the body of the sergeant, he discovered upon one of the fingers a ring, which, being unable to remove, he without hesitation drew his keen blade across the member, severing it from the body at a single stroke; he then removed the ring, dropped it coolly into his pouch, and jauntily jerked the dismembered finger in among the shrubs by the roadside. Then, animated apparently by a sudden frenzy, he plunged his blade again and again into the lifeless body, his fury increasing with every stroke, until the uniform was slashed almost to rags, finishing off by drawing his weapon across and across the face, until it was mutilated beyond all possibility of recognition. He then rose to his feet with a sigh of satisfaction, while the admiring laughter and jocular remarks of his comrades evinced their high appreciation of the performance.Turning round, he faced me just in good time to catch on my features the expression of sickening disgust with which I had viewed his actions. A threatening scowl instantly overspread his repulsive features, and, raising his knife, he advanced with such an evident intention of using it upon me, that three or four of his companions interposed, and with considerable difficulty at length succeeded in dissuading him from his purpose.It was the traitor Guiseppe.The booty, such as it was, being secured, the party marched off the ground, taking a contrary direction to that pursued by the Frenchmen. I was placed in the centre of the band, the leader of which was kind enough to warn me that any attempt at escape would be promptly met by an effectual application of the knife. It thus appeared that I had only escaped from one danger to fall into a second, almost, if not equally, as great. Had my captors been merely insurgents, I should not have felt any very great anxiety; but, though I was not directly addressed, I gathered within the first few minutes of our march that I had fallen into the hands of a party of brigands, and from all that I had heard of the unscrupulous character of these gentry, I believed that they would not have the slightest hesitation about murdering me, if the whim seized them, merely by way of “divarshin.”My left arm had been broken above the elbow by a musket-shot in the fusillade which had destroyed the Frenchmen, and, dangling helplessly at my side, gave me exquisite pain, as I stumbled along over the uneven and slippery road. The injury was plainly perceptible, yet no one offered to bind up the bleeding limb, and of course it was quite impossible for me to do so myself. I might have requested one of my captors to perform the service for me, but a scrutiny of their countenances afforded me so little encouragement that I decided to suffer on, rather than place myself in their rough and merciless hands.On emerging from the wood, we turned off to the left, and, forsaking the road altogether, made across the moor in the direction of another wood, which entirely clothed the sides to the very summit of a high hill about five miles distant. We were a couple of hours performing the journey across the open moor, and another hour was occupied in threading our way through the wood, the ground being very rugged and rising steeply all the while. At length, however, we reached a wide open space along one side of which a mountain-stream was noisily rushing “in spate,” as they say in Scotland; the surroundings of the place being very similar to those of the spot where I had quenched my thirst, and bathed on the previous evening—the principal difference being that here there was no waterfall. Instead, however, of this being a picturesque solitude, it had all the bustle and animation of a camp upon a small scale.As we drew near the place, although there had been no visible sign of the proximity of other human beings, signal-whistles had been given and answered, and I was consequently in a measure prepared for the scene which suddenly burst upon us on emerging into the open.Some twenty or more bell-shaped tents were disposed in a circle on the greensward, the little tri-coloured bannerets, which in some cases still fluttered at their apex, seeming to indicate that they had at no very distant period been French property. In the centre of the circle a large wood fire was blazing and crackling, with an immense cauldron hanging suspended over it, gipsy fashion, from a tripod.A man in white cap and apron—he turned out to be a French prisoner—was standing over this pot, armed with a long iron ladle with which he kept diligently stirring up its contents, the savoury steam from which was greeted with ejaculations of approval from my hungry captors. Outside the doors of some of the tents the muskets of its occupants were piled, the owners of the weapons, for the most part, being scattered about the sward in picturesque groups; some laughing, talking, and smoking together, while others were deeply interested in games of cards—played with packs so greasy, worn, and thumb-marked, that those who had used them a few times would as readily recognise a particular card on seeing its back as they would by looking at its face—while a few, more industriously disposed, were diligently cleaning and polishing their weapons. There must have been quite a hundred men in the camp altogether, counting the detachment which had brought me in, all wearing the garb of Corsican mountaineers; and a fine, stalwart set of men they were, almost without exception. Their countenances, however, wore an expression of reckless, relentless ferocity, which augured ill for any unfortunate against whom they might fancy they had a grievance, should he chance to fall into their clutches.My captors were dismissed immediately on our arrival in camp, with the exception of two who mounted guard over me, while their leader entered a tent somewhat larger than the rest. We were quickly surrounded by a group of curious and eager questioners, anxious apparently to learn the result of the expedition, and to “take stock” of the prisoner—my unlucky self.The information supplied by my custodians evidently afforded them great gratification, and though they spoke a patois which was quite unintelligible to me, the gesticulations which accompanied the closing portion of the narrative, and the shouts of laughter and applause with which it was received, showed me that the exploit of the amiable Guiseppe was duly receiving honourable mention.After an absence of about twenty minutes, the individual whom I have designated as the leader of the party which brought me in, issued from the tent, and, coming up to where I stood, said, with much greater courtesy than I had hitherto received,—“Be good enough to step this way, Signor Englishman, if you please.”I followed him into the tent from which he had just emerged, and found myself in the presence of an individual whose appearance differed so entirely from that of the rest of the band, that I could not help wondering what could possibly have induced her to associate herself with them.Start not, reader, at the wordher—it is no misprint; I actually found myself in the presence of awoman. Not such an one, either, as might be expected to be found—if indeed one would expect to find a woman at all—amid such surroundings; not an old, withered, vindictive-looking hag, repulsive alike in appearance and manner, but a woman, youthful, handsome, and to all appearance gentle, though her demeanour was somewhat cold and distant.I set her down at about three or four and twenty years of age. She was reclining on a pile of rugs when I entered the tent, so I could not just then judge of her stature, but before the interview terminated she had risen to her feet, and I then saw that she was rather above medium height. Her skin was dazzling fair, hair and eyes black as night; the beauty of the latter being rather marred, according to my taste, by a curious glitter, which, but for the calmness of their owner’s demeanour, I should have regarded as slightly suggestive of incipient insanity. Her figure, clothed in a picturesque, if somewhat theatrical, adaptation of the costume of her comrades, was somewhat slight, but eminently graceful, while her hands and feet would have delighted a sculptor with their symmetry. Her voice was especially beautiful, being a full, rich, and powerful contralto.The midshipmen of the British navy have not as yet rendered themselves especially remarkable by their bashfulness, and I was neither much better nor much worse than my neighbours in that respect; but I was so taken aback when I entered the tent and my eyes met those of its occupant, that I could only bow somewhat awkwardly, blushing like a simpleton the while.“This, signora, is the prisoner of whom I told you,” said my conductor by way of introduction.“Why, he is a mere boy, Benedetto; and wounded, too! What is the nature of your wound, child?”“A broken arm, signora,” I replied unsteadily; the unexpected accents of pity in her voice, or the excruciating pain I had been suffering for the previous four hours, suddenly unnerving me.“Poor fellow!” she exclaimed. “And it has not been attended to. How did it happen?”“A stray ball struck me this morning, when the party under this gentleman surprised and shot down the French detachment,” I answered.A gleam of almost fiendish ferocity passed like a lightning-flash across the beautiful face of my fair interrogator at the mention of the French; but it disappeared again in an instant, and, turning to Benedetto, she asked with just the slightest ring of harshness in her voice,—“Is the Padre in camp?”“He is not,” was the reply. “He left us yesterday to go into Ajaccio, telling us not to expect him back here until late to-night.”“Then I will turn leech myself,” said she. “It will not be for the first time. Fetch me a bowl of water from the stream, Benedetto, and bid them bring some wine to the tent.”Benedetto departed upon his mission with alacrity, and my hostess, or whatever she was, rising to her feet, bared her beautiful, round, white arms to the elbow, drew from a large chest a supply of lint and old linen, and, arming herself from the same depository with a pair of scissors, proceeded deftly to slit up from wrist to shoulder the left sleeve of my jacket and shirt. By the time that this was done, Benedetto had returned with a bowl of water in one hand, and a jar of wine in the other. A small quantity of the latter revived my strength and steadied my nerves, and then this curious pair went to work to dress my wound, and set the shattered limb, displaying during the operation an amount of skill on the part of the woman, and of gentleness on that of the man, for which I was wholly unprepared.A set of splints, which had evidently seen previous service, was finally produced and applied, and the arm carefully adjusted in a sling, after which food was placed before me; and though I was suffering too much pain and in too feverish a condition to take much, I soon found myself in a condition of ease which was comfort itself compared with my state during the earlier part of the day.At the conclusion of my meal I was advised, or I might sayordered, to lie down upon the pile of rugs which my strange hostess had vacated; an order which I obeyed gladly, for fatigue and pain together had produced a feeling of almost utter exhaustion, and, in spite of the anguish of my wound, I soon dropped off into a doze which was a something between sleeping and waking, in which, while my consciousness never entirely left me, my fancy, breaking away from the control of reason, rambled off and indulged in the most extraordinary vagaries. I heard the rush of the stream, the murmur of the wind through the branches of the trees with which the camp was surrounded, the hum of many voices outside the tent, the frequent snatch of song, or peal of laughter, the occasional angry altercation, and—once or twice—voices speaking in low tones within the tent; but all seemed to strike upon my ear as though the sounds reached me from an incredible distance, and then the absurd idea took possession of me that I was increasing in bulk to such an extraordinary extent, that my recumbent body covered miles of ground.Then my sight seemed to undergo an equally extraordinary alteration, for it appeared that I was able to see away over the tree-tops down into the town of Ajaccio; the lines of the streets, the architecture of the houses, and the very features of the inhabitants being distinguishable. Then I thought I was rising gradually in the air, my powers of vision steadily increasing at the same time. First I saw the wide stretch of blue foam-flecked ocean glittering in the sun; then the coast of France rose above the horizon, Toulon harbour, as might be expected, coming prominently forward in the picture; then the vine-clad hills and fertile plains, the populous cities and picturesque villages of the interior spread themselves out like a panorama; and finally the northern sea-board, the English Channel dotted here and there with white gleaming sails, the chalk cliffs of old England, the Hampshire downs, and my dear old home with all the loved familiar faces appeared, and I heard them speaking lovingly of poor absent me.Then with a suddenness that was absolutely painful all these pleasant fancies passed away, and I imagined myself to be a disembodied spirit floating helplessly in the midst of immeasurable space, enveloped in murky clouds and thick darkness, and whirled hither and thither at the mercy of a furious wind.Of course I had no idea of the actual passage of time during this period of delirium, but it seemed that I had thus been the sport of the elements for countless ages, when the sensation gradually passed away, and I sank into a condition of complete unconsciousness.When I awoke daylight was just making itself visible through the canvas sides of the tent, and overpowering the feeble glimmer of a small lamp which hung suspended from the pole. I remained motionless for some little time after I had opened my eyes, trying to remember where I was, and what had happened, and then wondering in a vague speculative sort of way who and what was the strange being who appeared to govern the reckless band of outlaws into whose hands I had fallen. I thought at first that I was alone in the tent, but a restless movement on my part undeceived me.A cool soft hand was laid upon my forehead, and the voice of my hostess inquired in gentle tones whether I felt better.I replied that I did, but complained of thirst, upon which there was a faint rustle, followed by a gurgling sound, and then the beautiful unknown, kneeling beside me, raised my head and presented to my lips a brimming goblet containing a draught of very peculiar taste, but cold as ice, and, oh!sorefreshing. I drained it to the last drop, and asked for more, which was given me. I was then advised to lie down, and sleep once more.It was evening when I next awoke, and on opening my eyes I felt more bewildered than ever.I was stretched upon a luxurious bed, the four slender posts of which were elaborately carved into the semblance of palm-trees, the graceful foliage forming the canopy; the stems and leaves of the trees being richly gilt. The bed was draped with heavy silken hangings overlaid with magnificent lace, and the linen was pure, white, and fresh as new fallen snow. This bed occupied one end of a lofty room of moderate size.A massive cornice ran round the room, and was supported by decorated pilasters, which divided the walls into compartments. A coved ceiling sprang from the cornice, and both ceiling and walls were decorated with paintings, in distemper, of mythological subjects; the lower portion of the wall, however, having what is, I believe, termed a dado, ornamented with a diaper pattern, each square of which contained a conventional representation of a different flower.The end of the room facing the bed was almost entirely occupied by a large bay-window draped with heavy curtains of silk and lace, matching the hangings of the bed. There was not much furniture in the room; an elegantly-appointed toilet-table, a couch, and one or two chairs being all that it contained, as far as I could see. One of the casements of the window was open, and through it there stole into the room a cool gentle breeze laden with sweet odours which evidently had their origin in some contiguous garden. A hilly and heavily-wooded landscape was visible through the window and beyond all was a sky glowing with the thousand evanescent beauties of a gorgeous sunset.I lay for some time enjoying the magnificent spectacle before me, and wondering in a feeble sort of way how much of my present and recent experiences was real, and how much was due to the delirium through which I was conscious of having passed. Were my present surroundings, for instance, real, or was I simply dreaming a vivid dream? And had I really been present in the body at that bandit camp, or was it only fancy? The present appeared to be a waking reality, and so had the other, yet both experiences seemed so strange that I knew not what to think.Upon one point, however, I did not long remain in doubt; whatever else might be fancy, the sensation of hunger soon forced itself upon my notice as a most prosaic and undeniable fact, and I very speedily decided that I ought to make somebody acquainted with it.I glanced round the room in quest of a hand-bell or some other means of attracting that somebody’s attention, and, seeing nothing of the kind, made a move with the intention of getting out of bed to reconnoitre, but fell back, weak and helpless as an infant. My movement, however, was not without result, for there was a sudden stir behind the curtains; a black-eyed, dark-skinned damsel emerged from her place of concealment, looked in upon me, uttered an ejaculation in what I imagined to be Italian, and forthwith beat a hasty retreat, notwithstanding my feeble hail for her to remain.She returned, however, in two or three minutes, accompanied by, without exception, the most lovely being it has ever been my happy lot to behold. It was a young girl in her thirteenth year, as I subsequently learned, though I should have supposed her to be quite sixteen.She was of about medium height, and her exquisite figure was already assuming the rounded graces of budding womanhood. Her skin was a clear pale olive with just the faintest and most delicate tinge of colour in the velvety cheek; her face was a perfect oval, and her small exquisitely poised head was covered with a wealth of soft, silky, chestnut hair, so dark as to appear black in the shade, but when a ray of light fell upon it, the rippling ringlets revealed the full beauty of their deep rich colour. The eyebrows and long drooping lashes were of the same colour as her hair, and her eyes—well, they were deep hazel; but it was impossible to ascertain this until after repeated observations—they glowed and sparkled to such a bewildering extent. Add to this a mouth “shaped like Cupid’s bow” with full rich scarlet lips, just parted sufficiently to permit a glimpse of the small regular pearly teeth within, a small round deeply-dimpled chin, an ivory-white neck and shoulders, upon which the delicate head was set with fairy-like grace, and you have as accurate a portrait of this dainty beauty as it is within my poor power to paint.She approached the side of the bed, and, looking inquiringly in my face for a moment, said in excellent English,—“I congratulate you, sir, on your recovery from that terrible fever. I am glad—oh! so very much, and so will be the count, my father, when he returns. He has been obliged to go away on important business, and will not perhaps be back for a day or two. But you are in excellent hands; old Maria, my nurse, is a skilful leech, and Angela here and I have been able to watch beside you, if we could do nothing more. Now, tell me, are you hungry? You should be, for you have taken nothing except Maria’s horrid medicine for two whole days, and how long before that I know not. Now, however, nurse has something more palatable for you; she said you would awake soon and be better, and she has made you some excellent broth. Shall she bring it up?”“By all means,” I replied. “I am so weak with hunger, or something, that I seem scarcely able to speak. But before we do anything else, allow me to ask where I am, and to whom I am indebted for so much kindness. The last thing I remember was that I was in camp with—”“Bell’ Demonio,” she interrupted. “Yes, she brought you to us two days ago. You were then very ill indeed, and Bell’ thought you ought to have better nursing than she could give you. It is all quite right; you are in the Chateau Paoli belonging to my father, Count Lorenzo di Paoli; I am his only daughter Francesca, and this is my foster-sister Angela. Now you must talk no more for the present, but take the broth like a good boy which I shall bring you.”So saying, she tripped away out of the room, returning again in about ten minutes, accompanied by an ancient and inexpressibly ugly female, who, I was duly informed, was the before-mentioned Maria.This antique dame felt my pulse, laid her hand upon my brow, put a few questions to me through the medium of her young mistress, and finally pronounced that I was very much better, that the fever had left me, and that all I should be likely henceforth to require would be careful nursing and judicious nourishment. A sample of the latter, she intimated, would be found in the substantial basin of broth which was now placed before me, and which I was to be sure and consume to the last drop.I had not much difficulty in effecting a satisfactory disposal of the meal, and when I had finished, my wounded arm was carefully dressed afresh, and, to finish off with, I enjoyed as copious an ablution in deliciously cold water as circumstances would permit; after which I was left to myself with imperative orders to go to sleep again as soon as possible. I passed a most comfortable night, sleeping pretty soundly until broad daylight, when I awoke to find myself very much better in every respect, and, not to weary my readers, I may say in a word that from that time my improvement in health was both rapid and regular.While partaking of a light breakfast on the morning following my return to consciousness, my lovely young hostess informed me joyously that her father had unexpectedly returned very late on the previous night, and that he proposed paying me an early visit, if I felt strong enough to see him.I gladly assented to this proposal, for it suddenly flashed across my mind that though by a series of accidents I had almost without an effort of my own reached the place of my destination, my mission was still unaccomplished; my bag, containing the all-important despatches, being liable to discovery by the first visitor to the old hut, if indeed it had not already been discovered; and the only chance which now remained of its recovery was to describe as well as I could to the count, the place of its concealment, and request him to despatch a trusty messenger forthwith in quest of it.Accordingly, as soon as breakfast was over, my wound dressed, and my toilet attended to, the dark-eyed Angela was despatched with a message to the count that I should be happy to see him as early as might be consistent with his own convenience. A few minutes afterwards he presented himself, and the ancient Maria, who had mounted guardoverme in the interval, was dismissed.Count Lorenzo di Paoli was a fine, stalwart, soldierly-looking figure of a man, dark-complexioned, and with a noble cast of countenance which accorded well with his stately carriage and demeanour.His features were stamped with an expression of stern gravity and melancholy, which impressed me greatly at this, my first interview with him, and which I could readily account for when I learned, later on, the tragical fate of his lovely young wife many years before.He greeted me with grave cordiality, expressing his deep regret “that I had received so rough a welcome to the country which my presence had been intended so signally to benefit, and hoping that he and his household would prove able to efface the unfavourable impression which I must have received.”Of course I replied in suitable terms to this polite speech, expressed my gratitude for the extraordinary kindness which I was receiving under his roof, and then begged him to favour me with particulars of the circumstances under which I had become an inmate of his establishment.“Certainly I will,” said the count. “Your curiosity is quite natural, and, apart from that, there are doubtless matters connected with your visit to this island, which are at present causing you no small share of anxiety. Before I say more, however, let me give you the assurance that, excepting for the unfortunate adventure in which you received your wound, everything has gone right; the despatches and other papers of which you were the bearer have duly reached my hands; I have accomplished the first and most difficult part of my mission, and the papers are now accomplishing theirs. You may rest satisfied therefore that your difficult and dangerous task has been successfully achieved, and you have now nothing whatever to do but recover your health at your leisure. I trust it is not necessary for me to say that the longer you are able to remain with us, the greater will be our gratification.”He then proceeded to narrate the circumstances under which I had been brought to the chateau; the details of which, however, I shall reserve for the next chapter.
As we trudged along, I had an opportunity to study to some extent the characteristics of the individuals forming my escort, and I may say without reserve that a more unprepossessing set of men it has seldom been my lot to encounter. With the solitary exception of the sergeant, who seemed a gay, careless, good-natured fellow enough, they appeared to be a thoroughly “bad lot:” low, ruffianly-looking men in their outward semblance, and—judging from their conversation, much of which, however, I failed to understand from their liberal use of what is now termed “slang”—utterly given over to the indulgence of the lowest and most degrading forms of vice, scoffing at all things pure and holy, and luxuriating in the recital of deeds of all manner of cruelty and debauchery.
I had heard something of the terribly-brutalising effects of the Reign of Terror, but the conversation of these wretches gave me such a vivid insight of the incredible depths of depravity of which the human mind is sometimes capable as I could certainly not otherwise have gained, unless indeed by associating with the ruffians who gathered daily round the guillotine to insult and exult over the death-agonies of their victims.
It was not to be expected that I should altogether escape the attentions of wretches such as these, and accordingly my ears were soon assailed with ribald jests and ruffianly speculations touching the mode and time of my execution, the manner in which I should bear myself, and so on; but I turned a deaf ear to it all, devoting my entire energies to the devising of some practicable method of escape, and, as it appeared to them that I understood nothing of what was said, my tormentors after a time turned their conversation to other matters.
“I expect we shall very soon make another excursion in this direction,” said one.
“Indeed, and for what purpose?” asked another.
“Nay, then, has it not been told thee, Adolphe, that our colonel suspects one of these Corsican aristocrats of being concerned in the present rising of his countrymen, and of plotting with the accursed English for assistance?” remarked the first speaker.
“Mille bombes! that it might be so. It would be rare sport to hunt the old rat out of his hole, or, better still, burn him in it. It would be a pleasant change from the dullness of mounting eternal guard, marching and countermarching every day, and all to what purpose? For my part I am tired of it, and long for a little more of the sport we had in dear Paris. Ah! it was worth living for, to see fifty or sixty of the proud aristocrats carted away to the guillotine every day. I doubt if there is such a thing as a guillotine in the whole island.”
“Soyez tranquille, mon cher Adolphe! The machine is not difficult to construct. But for real amusement give me such as we had at Ostend, when Davoust shot down with grape 500 men, women, and children under the ramparts, to say nothing of those which we sent afloat in the harbour in old and leaky boats which sank with all on board. And, ah, the sport that it was to chase the people through the streets until they could fly no longer, and then bayonet them! You were there, Antoine,mon camarade! you have not forgotten the day?”
“And never shall,” responded Antoine, the most ruffianly-looking of the whole party. “A day or two like that would bring these vile Corsicans to their senses. ‘Give them plenty of bayonet,’ say I. And if you want real sport, do as I did: chase the mothers until they drop, then bayonet their children first, and themselves afterwards. But do not bayonet the motherstoosoon, or you rob yourself of half your amusement.”
“Good! ah, ah!verygood indeed!” laughed the wretches.
“But say, Baptiste,mon cher, who is this Corsican of whom you were speaking?”
“He is called Count Lorenzo Paoli,” responded Baptiste. “He has a fine place away yonder among the hills, which, it is said, would make those rich who could have the plundering of it. And, moreover, he has a daughter—ah! but she is simply divine,” and the brute smacked his lips in a way which made me long to spring at his throat. “Le cher Guiseppe—is he not delightful?—says that this boy Englishman has papers which are thought to be for this rascally Count, and if it be so,ma foi! but there will be rare doings at the chateau before long.”
It may be imagined what were my feelings on hearing this.
How fervently I blessed the lucky inspiration which prompted me to conceal my bag, and how much more imperative now became the necessity that I should effect my escape without delay, not only for my own sake, but in order also that I might recover possession of those compromising papers, and warn the Count of the fearful danger which threatened him.
There was much more conversation of the kind recorded above, but I will not revolt the reader’s feelings by repeating it; what I have already given is intended merely to convey an idea of the unparalleled ruffianism and brutality which characterised the soldiery of the Republic at that period.
The way, which was being enlivened with such delectable converse, led back through the forest which I had already traversed, only we were now passing along the road, such as it was. It consisted simply of a path of varying width, but nowhere very wide, cleared through the trees, the undergrowth of the forest forming a sort of hedge on either side of the way. The branches met overhead, veiling the path in semi-obscurity, and so completely intercepting all but an occasional ray of the sun that the ground appeared to be in a perpetual state of dampness, the clayey soil being in consequence so much cut up, notwithstanding the small amount of traffic which seemed to pass over it, that it had become almost impracticable for foot-passengers. Here and there an old tree-stump projected out of the ground, while in other places the stumps had been removed without filling in the corresponding hole. These holes were now full of water, and as they sometimes occurred in places where there was a general depression of the ground, flooded by the heavy rain of the previous night, their presence only became known when one of the party floundered in and found himself, if lucky enough to avoid going head over heels, and so securing entire immersion, up to the waist in muddy water of about the consistency of pea-soup. To add still farther to the discomfort of the journey, the ground was excessively slippery, so that, what with one difficulty and another, we made but very slow progress.
We had reached and become involved in an exceptionally bad spot—a spring apparently rendering the clay so soft that the entire road for about thirty yards had been worked into a perfect quagmire, into which we sank above our knees at every step, the tenacious clay holding our feet almost as though they had been in a vice—when, without the slightest warning of any kind, a withering volley of musketry was poured in upon the devoted band from the bushes on both sides of the road, and while the smoke still enveloped us out dashed some thirty or forty Corsicans, armed, some only with their clubbed muskets, others flourishing in addition long double-edged knives of a most bloodthirsty appearance.
Every man of us went down before that deadly discharge; some being killed outright, while a few, myself among the number, were only wounded. But the tragedy was soon completed; hampered as we were with the difficulties of the road, and disabled by our wounds, resistance was impossible, and before the smoke of the musketry discharge had cleared away every Frenchman had received thecoup-de-grace. I also should undoubtedly have received my quietus, had I not had the presence of mind to exclaim in French, just as a stalwart mountaineer was bending over me with his long glittering blade upraised, that I was an Englishman. The man hesitated for an instant, and that slight pause saved me. I rapidly explained who and what I was, and another individual, apparently the leader of the band, approaching at the moment, I was reprieved until an opportunity could be found for verifying my statement. In the meantime, however, my captors were kind enough to take charge of my watch, my money, and one or two other valuables which they found in my pockets.
The bodies of the Frenchmen were rifled with a thoroughness and celerity which I could not but admire, their pockets being turned inside-out, and every article of the slightest value, including their weapons and ammunition, appropriated. One individual especially, who was working away with his back turned towards me, appeared to possess all the coolness and dexterity of a London pick-pocket.
He was certainly not much troubled with squeamishness either; for while operating upon the body of the sergeant, he discovered upon one of the fingers a ring, which, being unable to remove, he without hesitation drew his keen blade across the member, severing it from the body at a single stroke; he then removed the ring, dropped it coolly into his pouch, and jauntily jerked the dismembered finger in among the shrubs by the roadside. Then, animated apparently by a sudden frenzy, he plunged his blade again and again into the lifeless body, his fury increasing with every stroke, until the uniform was slashed almost to rags, finishing off by drawing his weapon across and across the face, until it was mutilated beyond all possibility of recognition. He then rose to his feet with a sigh of satisfaction, while the admiring laughter and jocular remarks of his comrades evinced their high appreciation of the performance.
Turning round, he faced me just in good time to catch on my features the expression of sickening disgust with which I had viewed his actions. A threatening scowl instantly overspread his repulsive features, and, raising his knife, he advanced with such an evident intention of using it upon me, that three or four of his companions interposed, and with considerable difficulty at length succeeded in dissuading him from his purpose.
It was the traitor Guiseppe.
The booty, such as it was, being secured, the party marched off the ground, taking a contrary direction to that pursued by the Frenchmen. I was placed in the centre of the band, the leader of which was kind enough to warn me that any attempt at escape would be promptly met by an effectual application of the knife. It thus appeared that I had only escaped from one danger to fall into a second, almost, if not equally, as great. Had my captors been merely insurgents, I should not have felt any very great anxiety; but, though I was not directly addressed, I gathered within the first few minutes of our march that I had fallen into the hands of a party of brigands, and from all that I had heard of the unscrupulous character of these gentry, I believed that they would not have the slightest hesitation about murdering me, if the whim seized them, merely by way of “divarshin.”
My left arm had been broken above the elbow by a musket-shot in the fusillade which had destroyed the Frenchmen, and, dangling helplessly at my side, gave me exquisite pain, as I stumbled along over the uneven and slippery road. The injury was plainly perceptible, yet no one offered to bind up the bleeding limb, and of course it was quite impossible for me to do so myself. I might have requested one of my captors to perform the service for me, but a scrutiny of their countenances afforded me so little encouragement that I decided to suffer on, rather than place myself in their rough and merciless hands.
On emerging from the wood, we turned off to the left, and, forsaking the road altogether, made across the moor in the direction of another wood, which entirely clothed the sides to the very summit of a high hill about five miles distant. We were a couple of hours performing the journey across the open moor, and another hour was occupied in threading our way through the wood, the ground being very rugged and rising steeply all the while. At length, however, we reached a wide open space along one side of which a mountain-stream was noisily rushing “in spate,” as they say in Scotland; the surroundings of the place being very similar to those of the spot where I had quenched my thirst, and bathed on the previous evening—the principal difference being that here there was no waterfall. Instead, however, of this being a picturesque solitude, it had all the bustle and animation of a camp upon a small scale.
As we drew near the place, although there had been no visible sign of the proximity of other human beings, signal-whistles had been given and answered, and I was consequently in a measure prepared for the scene which suddenly burst upon us on emerging into the open.
Some twenty or more bell-shaped tents were disposed in a circle on the greensward, the little tri-coloured bannerets, which in some cases still fluttered at their apex, seeming to indicate that they had at no very distant period been French property. In the centre of the circle a large wood fire was blazing and crackling, with an immense cauldron hanging suspended over it, gipsy fashion, from a tripod.
A man in white cap and apron—he turned out to be a French prisoner—was standing over this pot, armed with a long iron ladle with which he kept diligently stirring up its contents, the savoury steam from which was greeted with ejaculations of approval from my hungry captors. Outside the doors of some of the tents the muskets of its occupants were piled, the owners of the weapons, for the most part, being scattered about the sward in picturesque groups; some laughing, talking, and smoking together, while others were deeply interested in games of cards—played with packs so greasy, worn, and thumb-marked, that those who had used them a few times would as readily recognise a particular card on seeing its back as they would by looking at its face—while a few, more industriously disposed, were diligently cleaning and polishing their weapons. There must have been quite a hundred men in the camp altogether, counting the detachment which had brought me in, all wearing the garb of Corsican mountaineers; and a fine, stalwart set of men they were, almost without exception. Their countenances, however, wore an expression of reckless, relentless ferocity, which augured ill for any unfortunate against whom they might fancy they had a grievance, should he chance to fall into their clutches.
My captors were dismissed immediately on our arrival in camp, with the exception of two who mounted guard over me, while their leader entered a tent somewhat larger than the rest. We were quickly surrounded by a group of curious and eager questioners, anxious apparently to learn the result of the expedition, and to “take stock” of the prisoner—my unlucky self.
The information supplied by my custodians evidently afforded them great gratification, and though they spoke a patois which was quite unintelligible to me, the gesticulations which accompanied the closing portion of the narrative, and the shouts of laughter and applause with which it was received, showed me that the exploit of the amiable Guiseppe was duly receiving honourable mention.
After an absence of about twenty minutes, the individual whom I have designated as the leader of the party which brought me in, issued from the tent, and, coming up to where I stood, said, with much greater courtesy than I had hitherto received,—
“Be good enough to step this way, Signor Englishman, if you please.”
I followed him into the tent from which he had just emerged, and found myself in the presence of an individual whose appearance differed so entirely from that of the rest of the band, that I could not help wondering what could possibly have induced her to associate herself with them.
Start not, reader, at the wordher—it is no misprint; I actually found myself in the presence of awoman. Not such an one, either, as might be expected to be found—if indeed one would expect to find a woman at all—amid such surroundings; not an old, withered, vindictive-looking hag, repulsive alike in appearance and manner, but a woman, youthful, handsome, and to all appearance gentle, though her demeanour was somewhat cold and distant.
I set her down at about three or four and twenty years of age. She was reclining on a pile of rugs when I entered the tent, so I could not just then judge of her stature, but before the interview terminated she had risen to her feet, and I then saw that she was rather above medium height. Her skin was dazzling fair, hair and eyes black as night; the beauty of the latter being rather marred, according to my taste, by a curious glitter, which, but for the calmness of their owner’s demeanour, I should have regarded as slightly suggestive of incipient insanity. Her figure, clothed in a picturesque, if somewhat theatrical, adaptation of the costume of her comrades, was somewhat slight, but eminently graceful, while her hands and feet would have delighted a sculptor with their symmetry. Her voice was especially beautiful, being a full, rich, and powerful contralto.
The midshipmen of the British navy have not as yet rendered themselves especially remarkable by their bashfulness, and I was neither much better nor much worse than my neighbours in that respect; but I was so taken aback when I entered the tent and my eyes met those of its occupant, that I could only bow somewhat awkwardly, blushing like a simpleton the while.
“This, signora, is the prisoner of whom I told you,” said my conductor by way of introduction.
“Why, he is a mere boy, Benedetto; and wounded, too! What is the nature of your wound, child?”
“A broken arm, signora,” I replied unsteadily; the unexpected accents of pity in her voice, or the excruciating pain I had been suffering for the previous four hours, suddenly unnerving me.
“Poor fellow!” she exclaimed. “And it has not been attended to. How did it happen?”
“A stray ball struck me this morning, when the party under this gentleman surprised and shot down the French detachment,” I answered.
A gleam of almost fiendish ferocity passed like a lightning-flash across the beautiful face of my fair interrogator at the mention of the French; but it disappeared again in an instant, and, turning to Benedetto, she asked with just the slightest ring of harshness in her voice,—
“Is the Padre in camp?”
“He is not,” was the reply. “He left us yesterday to go into Ajaccio, telling us not to expect him back here until late to-night.”
“Then I will turn leech myself,” said she. “It will not be for the first time. Fetch me a bowl of water from the stream, Benedetto, and bid them bring some wine to the tent.”
Benedetto departed upon his mission with alacrity, and my hostess, or whatever she was, rising to her feet, bared her beautiful, round, white arms to the elbow, drew from a large chest a supply of lint and old linen, and, arming herself from the same depository with a pair of scissors, proceeded deftly to slit up from wrist to shoulder the left sleeve of my jacket and shirt. By the time that this was done, Benedetto had returned with a bowl of water in one hand, and a jar of wine in the other. A small quantity of the latter revived my strength and steadied my nerves, and then this curious pair went to work to dress my wound, and set the shattered limb, displaying during the operation an amount of skill on the part of the woman, and of gentleness on that of the man, for which I was wholly unprepared.
A set of splints, which had evidently seen previous service, was finally produced and applied, and the arm carefully adjusted in a sling, after which food was placed before me; and though I was suffering too much pain and in too feverish a condition to take much, I soon found myself in a condition of ease which was comfort itself compared with my state during the earlier part of the day.
At the conclusion of my meal I was advised, or I might sayordered, to lie down upon the pile of rugs which my strange hostess had vacated; an order which I obeyed gladly, for fatigue and pain together had produced a feeling of almost utter exhaustion, and, in spite of the anguish of my wound, I soon dropped off into a doze which was a something between sleeping and waking, in which, while my consciousness never entirely left me, my fancy, breaking away from the control of reason, rambled off and indulged in the most extraordinary vagaries. I heard the rush of the stream, the murmur of the wind through the branches of the trees with which the camp was surrounded, the hum of many voices outside the tent, the frequent snatch of song, or peal of laughter, the occasional angry altercation, and—once or twice—voices speaking in low tones within the tent; but all seemed to strike upon my ear as though the sounds reached me from an incredible distance, and then the absurd idea took possession of me that I was increasing in bulk to such an extraordinary extent, that my recumbent body covered miles of ground.
Then my sight seemed to undergo an equally extraordinary alteration, for it appeared that I was able to see away over the tree-tops down into the town of Ajaccio; the lines of the streets, the architecture of the houses, and the very features of the inhabitants being distinguishable. Then I thought I was rising gradually in the air, my powers of vision steadily increasing at the same time. First I saw the wide stretch of blue foam-flecked ocean glittering in the sun; then the coast of France rose above the horizon, Toulon harbour, as might be expected, coming prominently forward in the picture; then the vine-clad hills and fertile plains, the populous cities and picturesque villages of the interior spread themselves out like a panorama; and finally the northern sea-board, the English Channel dotted here and there with white gleaming sails, the chalk cliffs of old England, the Hampshire downs, and my dear old home with all the loved familiar faces appeared, and I heard them speaking lovingly of poor absent me.
Then with a suddenness that was absolutely painful all these pleasant fancies passed away, and I imagined myself to be a disembodied spirit floating helplessly in the midst of immeasurable space, enveloped in murky clouds and thick darkness, and whirled hither and thither at the mercy of a furious wind.
Of course I had no idea of the actual passage of time during this period of delirium, but it seemed that I had thus been the sport of the elements for countless ages, when the sensation gradually passed away, and I sank into a condition of complete unconsciousness.
When I awoke daylight was just making itself visible through the canvas sides of the tent, and overpowering the feeble glimmer of a small lamp which hung suspended from the pole. I remained motionless for some little time after I had opened my eyes, trying to remember where I was, and what had happened, and then wondering in a vague speculative sort of way who and what was the strange being who appeared to govern the reckless band of outlaws into whose hands I had fallen. I thought at first that I was alone in the tent, but a restless movement on my part undeceived me.
A cool soft hand was laid upon my forehead, and the voice of my hostess inquired in gentle tones whether I felt better.
I replied that I did, but complained of thirst, upon which there was a faint rustle, followed by a gurgling sound, and then the beautiful unknown, kneeling beside me, raised my head and presented to my lips a brimming goblet containing a draught of very peculiar taste, but cold as ice, and, oh!sorefreshing. I drained it to the last drop, and asked for more, which was given me. I was then advised to lie down, and sleep once more.
It was evening when I next awoke, and on opening my eyes I felt more bewildered than ever.
I was stretched upon a luxurious bed, the four slender posts of which were elaborately carved into the semblance of palm-trees, the graceful foliage forming the canopy; the stems and leaves of the trees being richly gilt. The bed was draped with heavy silken hangings overlaid with magnificent lace, and the linen was pure, white, and fresh as new fallen snow. This bed occupied one end of a lofty room of moderate size.
A massive cornice ran round the room, and was supported by decorated pilasters, which divided the walls into compartments. A coved ceiling sprang from the cornice, and both ceiling and walls were decorated with paintings, in distemper, of mythological subjects; the lower portion of the wall, however, having what is, I believe, termed a dado, ornamented with a diaper pattern, each square of which contained a conventional representation of a different flower.
The end of the room facing the bed was almost entirely occupied by a large bay-window draped with heavy curtains of silk and lace, matching the hangings of the bed. There was not much furniture in the room; an elegantly-appointed toilet-table, a couch, and one or two chairs being all that it contained, as far as I could see. One of the casements of the window was open, and through it there stole into the room a cool gentle breeze laden with sweet odours which evidently had their origin in some contiguous garden. A hilly and heavily-wooded landscape was visible through the window and beyond all was a sky glowing with the thousand evanescent beauties of a gorgeous sunset.
I lay for some time enjoying the magnificent spectacle before me, and wondering in a feeble sort of way how much of my present and recent experiences was real, and how much was due to the delirium through which I was conscious of having passed. Were my present surroundings, for instance, real, or was I simply dreaming a vivid dream? And had I really been present in the body at that bandit camp, or was it only fancy? The present appeared to be a waking reality, and so had the other, yet both experiences seemed so strange that I knew not what to think.
Upon one point, however, I did not long remain in doubt; whatever else might be fancy, the sensation of hunger soon forced itself upon my notice as a most prosaic and undeniable fact, and I very speedily decided that I ought to make somebody acquainted with it.
I glanced round the room in quest of a hand-bell or some other means of attracting that somebody’s attention, and, seeing nothing of the kind, made a move with the intention of getting out of bed to reconnoitre, but fell back, weak and helpless as an infant. My movement, however, was not without result, for there was a sudden stir behind the curtains; a black-eyed, dark-skinned damsel emerged from her place of concealment, looked in upon me, uttered an ejaculation in what I imagined to be Italian, and forthwith beat a hasty retreat, notwithstanding my feeble hail for her to remain.
She returned, however, in two or three minutes, accompanied by, without exception, the most lovely being it has ever been my happy lot to behold. It was a young girl in her thirteenth year, as I subsequently learned, though I should have supposed her to be quite sixteen.
She was of about medium height, and her exquisite figure was already assuming the rounded graces of budding womanhood. Her skin was a clear pale olive with just the faintest and most delicate tinge of colour in the velvety cheek; her face was a perfect oval, and her small exquisitely poised head was covered with a wealth of soft, silky, chestnut hair, so dark as to appear black in the shade, but when a ray of light fell upon it, the rippling ringlets revealed the full beauty of their deep rich colour. The eyebrows and long drooping lashes were of the same colour as her hair, and her eyes—well, they were deep hazel; but it was impossible to ascertain this until after repeated observations—they glowed and sparkled to such a bewildering extent. Add to this a mouth “shaped like Cupid’s bow” with full rich scarlet lips, just parted sufficiently to permit a glimpse of the small regular pearly teeth within, a small round deeply-dimpled chin, an ivory-white neck and shoulders, upon which the delicate head was set with fairy-like grace, and you have as accurate a portrait of this dainty beauty as it is within my poor power to paint.
She approached the side of the bed, and, looking inquiringly in my face for a moment, said in excellent English,—
“I congratulate you, sir, on your recovery from that terrible fever. I am glad—oh! so very much, and so will be the count, my father, when he returns. He has been obliged to go away on important business, and will not perhaps be back for a day or two. But you are in excellent hands; old Maria, my nurse, is a skilful leech, and Angela here and I have been able to watch beside you, if we could do nothing more. Now, tell me, are you hungry? You should be, for you have taken nothing except Maria’s horrid medicine for two whole days, and how long before that I know not. Now, however, nurse has something more palatable for you; she said you would awake soon and be better, and she has made you some excellent broth. Shall she bring it up?”
“By all means,” I replied. “I am so weak with hunger, or something, that I seem scarcely able to speak. But before we do anything else, allow me to ask where I am, and to whom I am indebted for so much kindness. The last thing I remember was that I was in camp with—”
“Bell’ Demonio,” she interrupted. “Yes, she brought you to us two days ago. You were then very ill indeed, and Bell’ thought you ought to have better nursing than she could give you. It is all quite right; you are in the Chateau Paoli belonging to my father, Count Lorenzo di Paoli; I am his only daughter Francesca, and this is my foster-sister Angela. Now you must talk no more for the present, but take the broth like a good boy which I shall bring you.”
So saying, she tripped away out of the room, returning again in about ten minutes, accompanied by an ancient and inexpressibly ugly female, who, I was duly informed, was the before-mentioned Maria.
This antique dame felt my pulse, laid her hand upon my brow, put a few questions to me through the medium of her young mistress, and finally pronounced that I was very much better, that the fever had left me, and that all I should be likely henceforth to require would be careful nursing and judicious nourishment. A sample of the latter, she intimated, would be found in the substantial basin of broth which was now placed before me, and which I was to be sure and consume to the last drop.
I had not much difficulty in effecting a satisfactory disposal of the meal, and when I had finished, my wounded arm was carefully dressed afresh, and, to finish off with, I enjoyed as copious an ablution in deliciously cold water as circumstances would permit; after which I was left to myself with imperative orders to go to sleep again as soon as possible. I passed a most comfortable night, sleeping pretty soundly until broad daylight, when I awoke to find myself very much better in every respect, and, not to weary my readers, I may say in a word that from that time my improvement in health was both rapid and regular.
While partaking of a light breakfast on the morning following my return to consciousness, my lovely young hostess informed me joyously that her father had unexpectedly returned very late on the previous night, and that he proposed paying me an early visit, if I felt strong enough to see him.
I gladly assented to this proposal, for it suddenly flashed across my mind that though by a series of accidents I had almost without an effort of my own reached the place of my destination, my mission was still unaccomplished; my bag, containing the all-important despatches, being liable to discovery by the first visitor to the old hut, if indeed it had not already been discovered; and the only chance which now remained of its recovery was to describe as well as I could to the count, the place of its concealment, and request him to despatch a trusty messenger forthwith in quest of it.
Accordingly, as soon as breakfast was over, my wound dressed, and my toilet attended to, the dark-eyed Angela was despatched with a message to the count that I should be happy to see him as early as might be consistent with his own convenience. A few minutes afterwards he presented himself, and the ancient Maria, who had mounted guardoverme in the interval, was dismissed.
Count Lorenzo di Paoli was a fine, stalwart, soldierly-looking figure of a man, dark-complexioned, and with a noble cast of countenance which accorded well with his stately carriage and demeanour.
His features were stamped with an expression of stern gravity and melancholy, which impressed me greatly at this, my first interview with him, and which I could readily account for when I learned, later on, the tragical fate of his lovely young wife many years before.
He greeted me with grave cordiality, expressing his deep regret “that I had received so rough a welcome to the country which my presence had been intended so signally to benefit, and hoping that he and his household would prove able to efface the unfavourable impression which I must have received.”
Of course I replied in suitable terms to this polite speech, expressed my gratitude for the extraordinary kindness which I was receiving under his roof, and then begged him to favour me with particulars of the circumstances under which I had become an inmate of his establishment.
“Certainly I will,” said the count. “Your curiosity is quite natural, and, apart from that, there are doubtless matters connected with your visit to this island, which are at present causing you no small share of anxiety. Before I say more, however, let me give you the assurance that, excepting for the unfortunate adventure in which you received your wound, everything has gone right; the despatches and other papers of which you were the bearer have duly reached my hands; I have accomplished the first and most difficult part of my mission, and the papers are now accomplishing theirs. You may rest satisfied therefore that your difficult and dangerous task has been successfully achieved, and you have now nothing whatever to do but recover your health at your leisure. I trust it is not necessary for me to say that the longer you are able to remain with us, the greater will be our gratification.”
He then proceeded to narrate the circumstances under which I had been brought to the chateau; the details of which, however, I shall reserve for the next chapter.
Chapter Fourteen.At the Chateau Paoli.“To-day is Wednesday,” commenced the count. “On Sunday evening last, just as it was growing dusk, I was informed that Bell’ Demonio requested an audience on a matter of great import. I accordingly descended to the library, into which this extraordinary woman had been shown, and on inquiring the nature of her business she informed me that on the previous Wednesday—a week ago to-day, in fact—a detachment of her band had attacked and destroyed a party of French troops, who had with them as prisoner a young Englishman—yourself of course. She stated that in the attack you had unfortunately been wounded, and your wound having been left unattended to for some hours, fever had set in. She nursed you as well as she could up to Sunday, when finding that no improvement in your condition took place, she grew alarmed, and having learned from your disjointed ravings that you had some business with me, determined to come on to the chateau and request that I would take you under my care. I of course assented at once, and in a couple of hours more you were brought here, strapped to a stretcher—that being the only way in which you could be kept sufficiently quiescent to prevent irreparable injury to your wounded arm.“Circumstances did not permit of my sending into Ajaccio for a physician, but most fortunately my daughter’s old nurse Maria is well skilled in matters relating to medicine and surgery, and her services were at once called into requisition. She soon discovered that the unskilful treatment of your wound was the chief cause of your illness, and with infinite difficulty, for you were very violent, we succeeded in getting the limb reset, and the wound properly attended to. This done, the fever soon yielded to the influence of the medicines which the good soul administered with rigorous punctuality. In the meantime, however, you spoke several times about certain papers concerning which you seemed to be singularly anxious, and at length by patiently listening to your rambling utterances we were enabled to make a shrewd guess as to their whereabouts. I set out in search of them, and discovered your bag, with the papers intact, safely concealed beneath a pile of brushwood in the corner of the old hut on the moor.”“Then I have been ill a whole week?” I exclaimed in considerable dismay.“Exactly so,” replied the count. “How long did you imagine your illness had lasted?”“About two days,” I replied.“Well, it is just a week,” remarked the count. “I hope you are not in any very serious hurry to leave us. In the first place I doubt whether Maria will consent to your rising from your bed for at least another week, and after that you will be some time regaining a sufficiency of strength to enable you to travel, and in the next place I am anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of one who has done so great a service to us Corsicans.”“You are extremely kind, count,” said I, “and under other circumstances there is nothing I should like better than to remain your guest as long as I could find a decent excuse for so doing; but my ship, the ‘Juno,’ has gone to the north end of the island, where we all expect there will be some very smart work shortly, and I would not miss being with her for anything I could name.”“Ha, ha! not very complimentary to us, eh, Francesca?” laughed my host. “This young fire-eating English sailor-officer would rather be where his brains would be ever in jeopardy than enjoying thedolce far nienteup here among the hills. What very pugnacious animals you Englishmen are, to be sure!“But do not fear, my dear boy, nothing will be done there yet for a little while, and, if you lake great care of yourself, it is quite possible you may yet be able to rejoin the ‘Juno’ in time to get your full share of the hard knocks to be had there, and which will doubtless be plentiful enough to suit even the most impetuous of your countrymen.”“Which do you think will be my quickest way to rejoin my ship, when I am able to do so—by land, or by water?” I inquired.“By water, I should say, certainly,” replied the count. “The entire island is in a perfect ferment, and you would find travelling by land a slow and wearisome as well as a highly dangerous process. We are perfectly quiet here, it is true, our situation being an isolated one, and in the very heart of the hills; but in and about all the towns the French troops literally swarm, while the woods and more secluded villages are haunted either by bands of Corsican insurgents or banditti, both of which would be likely to regard a stranger with as much suspicion as the French; and although you might be able to travel for a few miles to the northward from here in comparative safety, you would find your difficulties increase with every additional mile of your advance. And it is only fair to mention that I cannot assure you of absolute safety even here. I have reason to believe that I am very strongly suspected by the French of being favourable to the insurrectionary movement now in progress—as indeed I may admit to you that I am, my brother being in command of the insurgents—and I feel sure that, could a particle of direct evidence be secured against me, my arrest would instantly be attempted. This I should stoutly resist in the present condition of affairs, as my life would not be worth a moment’s purchase were I to fall into the hands of the enemy; but it is very doubtful whether the chateau could hold out beyond an hour or two against a determined attack, every man I could possibly spare being away with my brother.”“Would not your own countrymen help you in such a case?” I inquired.“There is no help available, except that of the banditti,” replied the count, “and, with the single exception of Bell’ Demonio’s band, I would almost as soon throw open my gates to the French as to them. If Bell’ were at hand at such a time, we should be perfectly safe, but one can never tell where she is to be found; her movements are as uncertain as those of the wind, and it is quite probable that she is now at the north end of the island, co-operating with my brother.”“Who is this Bell’ Demonio?” I inquired. “Is it possible she can be the beautiful woman I saw in the camp to which I was taken after being wounded, and where I fell ill?”“The same,” answered the count. “She is the leader of the band into whose hands you fell. Poor soul! her story is a very extraordinary as well as a very terrible one; the mere mention of her name is sufficient to excite a Corsican to frenzy at the remembrance of her wrongs.“Six months ago Isabel di Solzi was one of the happiest girls in all Corsica. Her father, Count Robert di Solzi, a descendant of the most ancient and most distinguished family of all the Corsican nobility, idolised her, and gratified her every whim, no matter how extravagant it might be, and she ruled the chateau as its absolute queen.“Her lover, as handsome and gallant a young fellow as maiden could wish, doted upon her, as a matter of course, and she returned his love with all the passion of her fiery and enthusiastic nature, and the prospect before her seemed to be one of almost perfect human happiness.“Her father, fond as he was of her, and reluctant as he was to part with his only daughter, nevertheless viewed the match with unqualified favour; the proposals had been formally made and accepted; the preliminaries were all arranged, and the marriage was fixed for a certain day.“Time passed on, slowly enough, we may be sure, to the impassioned lovers, and at length the day arrived on the morrow of which the wedding was to take place. Isabel’s lover rode out early to the chateau, ostensibly for the purpose of concluding the last trifling arrangements connected with the ceremony, but doubtless it was in reality to enjoy one more interview with his inamorata before the performance of those holy rites which were to make her his for ever. The Count di Solzi was absent when he arrived, and the young couple, anticipating no evil, wandered away from the chateau, and at length in their preoccupation entered a wood through which runs the road from Ajaccio across to the eastern side of the island. They sauntered along this road for a considerable distance, when they heard the tramp of a party of soldiers behind them, and looking back found themselves in the presence of a detachment of French infantry.“There was a great deal of ill-feeling existing even then between the Corsicans and the French, though it was not of course anything like what it is at present; hostilities had not as yet broken out; the flame which is so fiercely raging to-day throughout the island being then no more than a smouldering spark.“Still, therencontrewas disagreeable, and to shorten it as much as possible Isabel and her lover turned back with the intention of passing the French in the opposite direction. But by the time that they had resolved on this, the French were upon them, and instead of courteously permitting them to pass, the officer in command ordered them to halt and give an account of themselves.“They had of course no option but to obey, which they did. The French officer, however, either doubted, or affected to doubt, their story, and announced his intention of taking them both as prisoners into Ajaccio.“Isabel’s lover remonstrated, entreated, and threatened by turns, in vain; and at length the officers, turning from him, began to assail the trembling Isabel with jests of the coarsest kind. This was more than the hot Corsican blood could endure, and suddenly breaking from his guard, the frantic lover rushed upon the commanding officer, who seemed to be the chief offender, and with a single blow struck him senseless to the ground. The next moment he would have been impaled upon the bayonets of the soldiery, had the other officers not interfered; they knew their chief, and knew too that they would never be forgiven, did they not preserve their victim for a punishment to be inflicted by himself.“A halt was immediately called, they being at the time in perhaps the most lonely part of the road. A strong guard was placed over the prisoners, the rest of the men piling their arms, and vigorous efforts were at once proceeded with for the restoration of the injured officer.“The injury being slight, they were soon successful, and a mock drum-head court-martial was then instituted, by which the male prisoner was tried and convicted; sentence was passed, and the ruffianly band at once proceeded jeeringly to carry it into execution. The unhappy lover was stripped and firmly bound to a tree; the shrieking Isabel was then dragged before him, and in her presence he was scourged to death with the soldiers’ belts. The miserable girl was then released, the troops shouldered their arms and marched merrily away, safely reaching in due time their barracks in Ajaccio.“Meanwhile the day passed on; Count Robert returned to the chateau, and as was his custom at once sought his daughter. Failing to find her, he made inquiry among the servants, and then learned that the lovers had left the domain some hours before. This intelligence made the count somewhat uneasy, and remounting his horse, he set out in quest of the truants upon the road which he learned they had taken. He penetrated the forest for some distance, and at length was startled by hearing shrill screams of maniacal laughter.“Imagine if you can his horror and distress, when, on reaching the spot from which the sounds proceeded, he discovered his daughter seated upon the ground, with her dead lover’s head upon her lap, uttering peal after peal of blood-curdling laughter, as she strove to bind up the bruised and lacerated body in strips of linen torn from her own clothing.“On approaching her, the poor girl appeared to recognise her father in a confused sort of way, and with a little difficulty he at length persuaded her to allow him to lay the murdered man across the horse’s back, and to accompany him home.“It was of course patent to the distracted count that a fiendish atrocity of some sort had been committed, but it was quite impossible to gather any particulars or even the most meagre hint from the poor demented girl by his side; he therefore made the best of his way back to the chateau, whence immediately upon his arrival he despatched a couple of mounted servants—one of whom had charge of a note conveying a hint of the catastrophe to the friends of the murdered man, while the other had instructions to find and bring back with him to the chateau the first medical man in Ajaccio. By nightfall the chateau was full of self-invited guests, attracted thither by the rumours which had reached their ears concerning the events of the day, and all sorts of surmises and suggestions were made as to the probable perpetrators of the outrage. The doctor, too, as well as the friends of the murdered man, was there, and the former had on seeing his patient lost no time in administering a powerful opiate with the object of procuring for the unfortunate Isabel a temporary relief from the unnatural excitement of her overtaxed brain.“When at length the drug had done its work, and the poor girl lay stretched upon her bed in a state of unconsciousness, a general consultation was held, at which it was resolved to spare no pains to discover and punish the authors of so atrocious a crime, and with this understanding the visitors on the following morning departed on their several ways.“For days the efforts put forth to discover the offenders resulted in a complete failure, and in the meantime poor Isabel lay tossing restlessly with brain-fever. At length one night an intoxicated French soldier blurted out the secret in the hearing of every one of the occupants of the tavern, and a little judicious questioning, mingled with occasional expressions of incredulity, extracted from the fellow the full details of the crime. These were promptly communicated to Count di Solzi, who immediately called upon the officer who had been named as the chief culprit, and taxed him with it.“The wretch scornfully admitted his share in the outrage, and scoffed at the agonising grief of the poor old man. A challenge followed, as a matter of course, and a meeting was arranged for the following morning; but when that morning dawned, the French officer was found dead in bed, stabbed to the heart. The count was immediately arrested on suspicion of being the assassin, and though all the neighbouring nobility knew the charge to be as monstrous and ill-founded as ever was brought against mortal man, and did all that lay in our power to have the matter properly investigated—and though soon after his arrest one of his own servants came voluntarily forward and confessed that it was he, and not his master, who had done the deed—poor Isabel’s father was summarily tried, sentenced, and hanged over the gate of his own chateau.“This act of base and cruel injustice, coupled with the previous outrage, caused the smouldering spark of discontent and disaffection to blaze forth at once into a devastating insurrectionary flame.“The most ruthless reprisals were forthwith resorted to on both sides; assassination, secret and open, became the order of the day; the Corsicans flew to arms, and the struggle commenced which is now being waged, and which can never end until the hated French have been extirpated from off the face of the island.”“And how fared the unhappy Isabel meanwhile?” I inquired.“She was on her father’s arrest brought here at the imminent risk of her life,” replied the count, “and while she still lay delirious, her father’s execution took place; the chateau was then sacked, and when the soldiers had loaded themselves with every article of value which it was possible for them to take away, they set fire to the place, and, driving back at the point of the bayonet all who approached for the purpose of extinguishing the flames, stood by until it was burned to the ground. It was late at night before all was done, and the officer in charge of the troops who had carried through this shameful deed of murder and spoliation was imprudent enough to camp for the night close to the scene of the outrage. Sentinels were duly posted, and everything was, as this man thought, made perfectly secure; but he was fatally mistaken. The sentinels were surprised in detail, and despatched without having had an opportunity to give the alarm, and then a band of upwards of 100 armed Corsicans stole in upon the defenceless camp and slaughtered every one of the sleeping Frenchmen—not one survived to tell the tale.“Isabel, contrary to expectation, rapidly recovered both her health and her reason; but it soon became apparent that a terrible change had been wrought in her, thoughhowterrible we did not realise until afterwards.“Of course it was not to be expected that a girl who had passed through what she had would ever be the same again, but there was a change in her, apart from what might reasonably have been expected under the circumstances. Her reason appeared to be completely restored; she talked calmly and rationally enough upon all subjects, not excepting even her misfortunes; but there was a coldness and reserve about her, even with us, her most intimate friends, which we found it very difficult to understand. At length one day we missed her, and apprehensive of a recurrence of the temporary aberration of intellect from which she had so recently recovered, we searched for her in all directions for three whole days without success, at the end of which time we received a note from her, thanking us for what she was pleased to term our great kindness, and informing us that she had taken steps to carry out the sole purpose of her future life, which was vengeance upon the authors of her wrongs, and the enemies of her country. We knew not what to make of this statement at first, but we soon afterwards learned that it meant she had formed a guerilla band at the head of which she had placed herself—the avowed object of which is war to the knife with the French, as long as any of them remain in Corsica.“And most terribly has she carried out her purpose so far, for already nearly 300 Frenchmen have perished upon the weapons of her band, and fourteen French officers have met their deaths at her own hands.“The adoption of so vindictive a purpose has gained for her the title of Bell’ Demonio, a title which she has accepted as perfectly appropriate, and as indicative of the relentless vengeance which her enemies may look for from her.”“What a terrible history of wanton wrong and of merciless retribution!” I exclaimed, when the count had finished his narrative. “It is horrible to think that beings claiming to be civilised can be capable of such monstrous deeds, but it is so, as I can testify from the conversation of the Frenchmen who took me prisoner, and by the bye that reminds me thatyouwere the subject of their remarks. Have you any reason to suppose yourself in any sort of danger?”“Well, no,” replied the count; “I should scarcely say that I consider myself in absolutedanger; of course it is only reasonable to suppose that, since my brother has placed himself at the head of the insurgents, I should be regarded with a certain amount of suspicion; but that occasions me no anxiety whatever, for I have no one about me but those whom I can implicitly trust, and even to them I confide no more than I can possibly help, so I think I may say I am reasonably safe from betrayal. At the same time I omit no precaution, because I have strong reason to suppose that my actions are being watched, as I believe I have already mentioned. But perhaps you will favour me with a recapitulation of the remarks made by the French concerning me? I have hitherto had no means of ascertaining exactly in what estimation they hold me, and any light on the subject would be especially valuable just now.”In accordance with this request, I related the substance of the conversation which had occurred among the Frenchmen while I was being conveyed toward Ajaccio. The count listened intently, never interrupting me once, but I could see by the expression of his features how powerfully he was moved, especially by the remarks which had reference to his daughter. When I had finished—“Thank you signor—how shall I call you?” said he.“My name is Ralph Chester,” I replied.“I thank you sincerely, Signor Ralph, for the very valuable information which you have afforded me. It gives to my position an altogether new and somewhat alarming aspect. It is true that I am safe, so far as the papers which you brought are concerned; they are out of my hands, and, even if discovered, contain nothing which could possibly compromise me; but what you have just told me appears to indicate a decideddesireon the part of the French to find some excuse for molesting me. Personally, there is nothing I should like better than an opportunity for holding the chateau against an attack from the French. I hate them with a deadly hatred—heaven knows it is not without ample cause!—but if the day were to go against us, I shudder to think of the inevitable fate of my darling child. But, signor, she should never fall into their hands alive. I would rather blot out her innocent young life with these unarmed hands than leave her alive at the mercy of those fiends. I have already told you somewhat of what they can do, but they are capable of even greater refinement of cruelty than that which poor Bell’ Demonio experienced at their hands. I am glad to have heard what you have just told me, but it greatly increases my anxiety; could I only place Francesca in safety it would not greatly matter, but as it is—yes, I must endeavour to find a secure retreat for my child, or I shall have no further peace of mind. The more I think of it the clearer does it become that the chateau is no longer a fit place for her.”We conversed for some time longer, and then Maria made her appearance, and, with the licence of an old servant, unhesitatingly expressed her conviction that I had conversed far more freely than was at all good for me in my feeble condition, and asserted decidedly that unless I were at once left for the rest of the day in perfect quiet, the direst consequences would surely follow. Upon this the count abruptly took his departure, with an elaborate apology for what he chose to term his want of consideration.For the remainder of the day a strict embargo was laid upon my room by that stern old disciplinarian, Maria, and on the following day the count was only permitted to enter for the purpose of making a few brief but kind inquiries as to my progress.I spent the time chiefly in meditating upon the charms of the count’s lovely daughter, and in hoping for the happiness of a visit from her; but to my intense disappointment she remained invisible. Maria mounted strict guard over me, and when circumstances necessitated her absence, the dark-eyed Angela was called in to relieve the watch.The latter was evidently willing enough to chat with me, but it soon became apparent that she had received her orders from Maria, and that she entertained too wholesome a dread of that individual lightly to disobey her. Under these circumstances the time dragged on wearily enough, so that when on the fourth day I received permission to rise from my bed and change my room for an hour or two, I regarded the inflexible Maria with feelings of gratitude almost akin to love.The experience of a sick-bed is unfortunately so little a rarity that most of my readers will be able to realise for themselves the delight with which, after a refreshing toilet, and clad in the easiest as well as the most gorgeous of dressing-gowns, I passed out through the door of the sick-room. The sprightly Angela was my guide, and also to a great extent my support, as we passed down a short corridor and turned into a small but elegantly furnished room single glance round which was sufficient to assure me that I was in the favoured abode of beauty. A table littered with a variety of those flimsy trifles which ladies are wont to dignify with the name of “work” occupied the centre of the room, a harp stood in one corner and a guitar in another, an easel supporting an unfinished sketch in water-colours stood by one of the two windows which lighted the room, and a small bookcase filled with elegantly-bound books occupied a niche in one of the walls. A tiny riding-gauntlet of embroidered leather trimmed with lace, and a gold-mounted riding-switch lay upon a most inviting-looking couch, while an open book, placed face downwards, occupied a low-seated reclining chair, which faced the other window; some small but choice water-colours graced the walls, and against that which faced the windows stood a small chamber organ. In addition to these evidences of taste and luxury there were a few small but exquisite statuettes supported on wall brackets; delicate alabaster vases of choice and sweetly-scented flowers, and a cage of gaily plumaged birds.“There!” said my guide, as she deposited me in the most comfortable chair in the room, “is that to your liking, signor?”“Perfectly,” I replied. “But see here, Angela, have you not made some mistake? Was it understood that I was to occupy this room? If I may hazard a guess, I should say it is your mistress’s own especial apartment, the one to which she retreats when she desires strict privacy.”“You are quite right, signor, it is my lady’s boudoir, but the count’s instructions were that you were to be taken to the most comfortable room in the chateau; and though there are many larger and more grand, I know of none where you would be quite so comfortable as in this.”“I have no doubt you are perfectly right, little one,” said I; “but I greatly fear that in taking possession of this apartment I shall be intruding—”“It is very unkind of you to think any such thing, signor; no one who has suffered as you have in the cause of my countrymen could ever be deemed an intruder inanyof the apartments of the Chateau Paoli,” said a clear, silvery voice behind me. I turned and saw that the owner of the apartment had just entered at the open door in time to hear my remark.The beautiful girl looked more lovely than ever, I thought, as she somewhat shyly congratulated me on the progress I had made toward recovery.She playfully scolded the unabashed Angela for not putting the room in somewhat better order before introducing me to it, apologised for the state of confusion which it was in, and finally asked me if she could do anything to add to my comfort. With all the boldness of a British midshipman, I at once replied that my comfort and happiness would be complete if she would but condescend to favour me with as much of her society as possible.The dear girl blushed, laughed, called me a bold boy, and then, at my earnest request, placed herself in a chair near me, and, after a slight pause of embarrassment, commenced a conversation, the theme of which was the struggle upon which the Corsicans had just entered.This, of course, was all very well and highly interesting; no one could have looked at and listened to so lovely a creature unmoved as she descanted in feeling language upon the wrongs from which the Corsicans had suffered so greatly at the hands of the French; but, to tell the truth, I felt just then too weak to take more than a languid interest in the subject, it was too exciting for me in my invalid condition, besides which, I perceived that the theme was a painful one to my companion; I therefore gradually drew the conversation into a lighter channel, and we were soon deep in the discussion of poetry, music, and painting, subjects in which we both seemed to be equally interested, and our enthusiasm upon which speedily broke down the slight barrier of reserve which had interposed itself between us at the commencement of the interview. The result was that when that objectionable old party, Maria, came to announce the arrival of the moment when a return to my own room was judged advisable, she found us both comfortably established upon the same lounge, sitting very close to each other, and deep in the beauties of a portfolio of choice engravings which rested upon our knees; moreover, we had grown so confidential that by mutual agreement our usual formal style of address had been discarded, my young hostess promising to call me “Ralph,” if I would address her as “Francesca.”From this date my progress toward perfect recovery was rapid. A few days more were passed in Francesca’s boudoir, in the enjoyment of her delightful society, and then came the happy moment when supported by her arm, I was able to move slowly and for short distances about the superbly laid-out grounds of the chateau. These delightful walks, which became more extended every day, naturally resulted in the establishment of still more intimate relations between us, and in a very short time each knew all about the past history and the future prospects of the other. The latter were eminently satisfactory on both sides, for, with all the assurance of a boy and a midshipman, I speedily announced my intention of winning my post rank in the shortest possible amount of time, chiefly as a desirable preliminary to my return to Corsica for the purpose of claiming the lovely Francesca’s hand in marriage.The sweet girl laughed heartily at me, at first; though younger than myself, she was more of a woman than I was of a man, and she assumed with me a great many of the airs of a senior; but upon my vehement and repeated protestations of the seriousness and permanent nature of my intentions, her laughter ceased, she became embarrassed and agitated, and finally, after much pressing, assured me, her face crimsoned with blushes the while, that if I ever came to claim her, she would be mine.Now I am quite aware that my conduct in this respect was wrong. I was too young, and my prospects were far too vague at that time, to justify me in speaking of love to any woman, besides which, in so unceremoniously laying siege to the beautiful Francesca’s susceptible heart, I might, for all that I could tell, be seriously interfering with the count’s plans for his daughter’s future. But at the time neither of us thought anything of this, or of any thing or being but ourselves; we were perfectly content with the state of things as they were, happy in the present, and quite agreed as to the future, to which, however, neither of us gave a single serious thought. I do not think Francesca was to blame in the matter, she had never had a mother to teach her prudence, butIcertainly acted very wrongly, for, though little more than a boy, I was old enough to know better.I offer no excuse for my conduct, it was quite inexcusable, but as I am telling the story of my life, I feel that I should not be dealing fairly with my readers did I attempt to pass over my faults and misdeeds in silence.A day or two more passed swiftly away, I was rapidly regaining strength, my fractured arm-bone had knit itself firmly together again—though of course it was still quite useless, the splints not having been removed, and the use of a sling promising to remain a necessity for some little time longer—and I was revolving seriously in my mind the question of what would be the best course to pursue in order to rejoin my ship, when a little incident occurred which immediately diverted my thoughts in an entirely different direction.Francesca and I were sauntering slowly down the broad tree-bordered drive which led from the main road to the chateau, when a man passed us. Francesca stopped him, to ask a question or two, and to give him some directions, and I thus got a full view of his features for perhaps quite three minutes. To my intense surprise I recognised in him the individual who had betrayed me to the French troops, and who had without doubt betrayed them in turn to Bell’ Demonio’s guerilla band; in a word, it was Guiseppe.When our eyes met for the first time I saw in a moment that he not only recognised me, but also that he was most anxious to know whether I recognised him. I had it on the tip of my tongue to tax him with his perfidy, and to threaten to denounce him; but there was a something in his glance which gave me the idea that he was meditating further treachery, and I instantly decided that the most effective means to defeat his plans, if he entertained any, would be to throw him off his guard, and watch keenly the course of events; I therefore assumed a calmness and indifference of demeanour which I certainly did not feel, and looked at him as though I had never seen him before.Waiting until the fellow was well out of ear-shot, I asked Francesca whether he was one of the servants at the chateau.“Well, no,” she replied, “he is not exactly that. He is merely a kind of hanger-on; his father died in our service, and this man was, in his younger days, one of our stable-boys, but he left us about a year ago to become a wood-cutter and charcoal-burner, and since then he just comes and goes when he likes, finding board and lodging when he requires it, and giving in return any trifling services that may be required of him.”Nothing more was said about the man at that time, but I resolved to speak to Count Lorenzo about him at the first opportunity.This presented itself the same evening, on our return to the chateau. I recalled to the count’s mind the conversation which had passed respecting him among the French soldiers, and also directed his attention to the fact that the subject of my remarks had been referred to in terms which seemed to leave no room for doubt as to his treachery.“But the individual of whom you speak was called Guiseppe, was he not?” remarked the count, when I had said my say.“Certainly,” I replied. “What is the name of this man?”“Matteo, Matteo Bartolozzi is his full name,” replied the count. “I thought there must be a mistake somewhere; you have evidently been misled, my friend, by an accidental resemblance. Matteo a traitor! Pardon me, my dear Signor Ralpho, but if you knew the poor fellow as well as I do, you would recognise the absurdity of the supposition. I have known Matteo all his life, and I should have no hesitation in trusting him withanything, ay, even with my daughter’s safety.”“Heaven forbid that such a necessity should ever arise,” I fervently exclaimed. “It would be better to confide her to the protection of a pack of starving wolves. I amnotdeceived by any accidental resemblance, I feel as sure of the identity of this man, whom you call Matteo, with the traitor Guiseppe, as I am of my own existence. Believe me, count, I would not speak so positively, did there exist the faintest possibility of doubt.”“But, my good sir,” returned the count somewhat tartly, “I assure you that what you say is quite impossible. I repeat, I have known the man all his life, and I have done him nothing but good. I have befriended him in a thousand ways, and I know he would lay down his life rather than bring harm to me and mine.”I saw that my efforts to undeceive the count were worse than useless, and I therefore abandoned the attempt; at the same time his arguments utterly failed to convince me that I had been mistaken, they did not even raise the most transitory doubt in my mind; I therefore determined to simply wait and watch the course of events.
“To-day is Wednesday,” commenced the count. “On Sunday evening last, just as it was growing dusk, I was informed that Bell’ Demonio requested an audience on a matter of great import. I accordingly descended to the library, into which this extraordinary woman had been shown, and on inquiring the nature of her business she informed me that on the previous Wednesday—a week ago to-day, in fact—a detachment of her band had attacked and destroyed a party of French troops, who had with them as prisoner a young Englishman—yourself of course. She stated that in the attack you had unfortunately been wounded, and your wound having been left unattended to for some hours, fever had set in. She nursed you as well as she could up to Sunday, when finding that no improvement in your condition took place, she grew alarmed, and having learned from your disjointed ravings that you had some business with me, determined to come on to the chateau and request that I would take you under my care. I of course assented at once, and in a couple of hours more you were brought here, strapped to a stretcher—that being the only way in which you could be kept sufficiently quiescent to prevent irreparable injury to your wounded arm.
“Circumstances did not permit of my sending into Ajaccio for a physician, but most fortunately my daughter’s old nurse Maria is well skilled in matters relating to medicine and surgery, and her services were at once called into requisition. She soon discovered that the unskilful treatment of your wound was the chief cause of your illness, and with infinite difficulty, for you were very violent, we succeeded in getting the limb reset, and the wound properly attended to. This done, the fever soon yielded to the influence of the medicines which the good soul administered with rigorous punctuality. In the meantime, however, you spoke several times about certain papers concerning which you seemed to be singularly anxious, and at length by patiently listening to your rambling utterances we were enabled to make a shrewd guess as to their whereabouts. I set out in search of them, and discovered your bag, with the papers intact, safely concealed beneath a pile of brushwood in the corner of the old hut on the moor.”
“Then I have been ill a whole week?” I exclaimed in considerable dismay.
“Exactly so,” replied the count. “How long did you imagine your illness had lasted?”
“About two days,” I replied.
“Well, it is just a week,” remarked the count. “I hope you are not in any very serious hurry to leave us. In the first place I doubt whether Maria will consent to your rising from your bed for at least another week, and after that you will be some time regaining a sufficiency of strength to enable you to travel, and in the next place I am anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of one who has done so great a service to us Corsicans.”
“You are extremely kind, count,” said I, “and under other circumstances there is nothing I should like better than to remain your guest as long as I could find a decent excuse for so doing; but my ship, the ‘Juno,’ has gone to the north end of the island, where we all expect there will be some very smart work shortly, and I would not miss being with her for anything I could name.”
“Ha, ha! not very complimentary to us, eh, Francesca?” laughed my host. “This young fire-eating English sailor-officer would rather be where his brains would be ever in jeopardy than enjoying thedolce far nienteup here among the hills. What very pugnacious animals you Englishmen are, to be sure!
“But do not fear, my dear boy, nothing will be done there yet for a little while, and, if you lake great care of yourself, it is quite possible you may yet be able to rejoin the ‘Juno’ in time to get your full share of the hard knocks to be had there, and which will doubtless be plentiful enough to suit even the most impetuous of your countrymen.”
“Which do you think will be my quickest way to rejoin my ship, when I am able to do so—by land, or by water?” I inquired.
“By water, I should say, certainly,” replied the count. “The entire island is in a perfect ferment, and you would find travelling by land a slow and wearisome as well as a highly dangerous process. We are perfectly quiet here, it is true, our situation being an isolated one, and in the very heart of the hills; but in and about all the towns the French troops literally swarm, while the woods and more secluded villages are haunted either by bands of Corsican insurgents or banditti, both of which would be likely to regard a stranger with as much suspicion as the French; and although you might be able to travel for a few miles to the northward from here in comparative safety, you would find your difficulties increase with every additional mile of your advance. And it is only fair to mention that I cannot assure you of absolute safety even here. I have reason to believe that I am very strongly suspected by the French of being favourable to the insurrectionary movement now in progress—as indeed I may admit to you that I am, my brother being in command of the insurgents—and I feel sure that, could a particle of direct evidence be secured against me, my arrest would instantly be attempted. This I should stoutly resist in the present condition of affairs, as my life would not be worth a moment’s purchase were I to fall into the hands of the enemy; but it is very doubtful whether the chateau could hold out beyond an hour or two against a determined attack, every man I could possibly spare being away with my brother.”
“Would not your own countrymen help you in such a case?” I inquired.
“There is no help available, except that of the banditti,” replied the count, “and, with the single exception of Bell’ Demonio’s band, I would almost as soon throw open my gates to the French as to them. If Bell’ were at hand at such a time, we should be perfectly safe, but one can never tell where she is to be found; her movements are as uncertain as those of the wind, and it is quite probable that she is now at the north end of the island, co-operating with my brother.”
“Who is this Bell’ Demonio?” I inquired. “Is it possible she can be the beautiful woman I saw in the camp to which I was taken after being wounded, and where I fell ill?”
“The same,” answered the count. “She is the leader of the band into whose hands you fell. Poor soul! her story is a very extraordinary as well as a very terrible one; the mere mention of her name is sufficient to excite a Corsican to frenzy at the remembrance of her wrongs.
“Six months ago Isabel di Solzi was one of the happiest girls in all Corsica. Her father, Count Robert di Solzi, a descendant of the most ancient and most distinguished family of all the Corsican nobility, idolised her, and gratified her every whim, no matter how extravagant it might be, and she ruled the chateau as its absolute queen.
“Her lover, as handsome and gallant a young fellow as maiden could wish, doted upon her, as a matter of course, and she returned his love with all the passion of her fiery and enthusiastic nature, and the prospect before her seemed to be one of almost perfect human happiness.
“Her father, fond as he was of her, and reluctant as he was to part with his only daughter, nevertheless viewed the match with unqualified favour; the proposals had been formally made and accepted; the preliminaries were all arranged, and the marriage was fixed for a certain day.
“Time passed on, slowly enough, we may be sure, to the impassioned lovers, and at length the day arrived on the morrow of which the wedding was to take place. Isabel’s lover rode out early to the chateau, ostensibly for the purpose of concluding the last trifling arrangements connected with the ceremony, but doubtless it was in reality to enjoy one more interview with his inamorata before the performance of those holy rites which were to make her his for ever. The Count di Solzi was absent when he arrived, and the young couple, anticipating no evil, wandered away from the chateau, and at length in their preoccupation entered a wood through which runs the road from Ajaccio across to the eastern side of the island. They sauntered along this road for a considerable distance, when they heard the tramp of a party of soldiers behind them, and looking back found themselves in the presence of a detachment of French infantry.
“There was a great deal of ill-feeling existing even then between the Corsicans and the French, though it was not of course anything like what it is at present; hostilities had not as yet broken out; the flame which is so fiercely raging to-day throughout the island being then no more than a smouldering spark.
“Still, therencontrewas disagreeable, and to shorten it as much as possible Isabel and her lover turned back with the intention of passing the French in the opposite direction. But by the time that they had resolved on this, the French were upon them, and instead of courteously permitting them to pass, the officer in command ordered them to halt and give an account of themselves.
“They had of course no option but to obey, which they did. The French officer, however, either doubted, or affected to doubt, their story, and announced his intention of taking them both as prisoners into Ajaccio.
“Isabel’s lover remonstrated, entreated, and threatened by turns, in vain; and at length the officers, turning from him, began to assail the trembling Isabel with jests of the coarsest kind. This was more than the hot Corsican blood could endure, and suddenly breaking from his guard, the frantic lover rushed upon the commanding officer, who seemed to be the chief offender, and with a single blow struck him senseless to the ground. The next moment he would have been impaled upon the bayonets of the soldiery, had the other officers not interfered; they knew their chief, and knew too that they would never be forgiven, did they not preserve their victim for a punishment to be inflicted by himself.
“A halt was immediately called, they being at the time in perhaps the most lonely part of the road. A strong guard was placed over the prisoners, the rest of the men piling their arms, and vigorous efforts were at once proceeded with for the restoration of the injured officer.
“The injury being slight, they were soon successful, and a mock drum-head court-martial was then instituted, by which the male prisoner was tried and convicted; sentence was passed, and the ruffianly band at once proceeded jeeringly to carry it into execution. The unhappy lover was stripped and firmly bound to a tree; the shrieking Isabel was then dragged before him, and in her presence he was scourged to death with the soldiers’ belts. The miserable girl was then released, the troops shouldered their arms and marched merrily away, safely reaching in due time their barracks in Ajaccio.
“Meanwhile the day passed on; Count Robert returned to the chateau, and as was his custom at once sought his daughter. Failing to find her, he made inquiry among the servants, and then learned that the lovers had left the domain some hours before. This intelligence made the count somewhat uneasy, and remounting his horse, he set out in quest of the truants upon the road which he learned they had taken. He penetrated the forest for some distance, and at length was startled by hearing shrill screams of maniacal laughter.
“Imagine if you can his horror and distress, when, on reaching the spot from which the sounds proceeded, he discovered his daughter seated upon the ground, with her dead lover’s head upon her lap, uttering peal after peal of blood-curdling laughter, as she strove to bind up the bruised and lacerated body in strips of linen torn from her own clothing.
“On approaching her, the poor girl appeared to recognise her father in a confused sort of way, and with a little difficulty he at length persuaded her to allow him to lay the murdered man across the horse’s back, and to accompany him home.
“It was of course patent to the distracted count that a fiendish atrocity of some sort had been committed, but it was quite impossible to gather any particulars or even the most meagre hint from the poor demented girl by his side; he therefore made the best of his way back to the chateau, whence immediately upon his arrival he despatched a couple of mounted servants—one of whom had charge of a note conveying a hint of the catastrophe to the friends of the murdered man, while the other had instructions to find and bring back with him to the chateau the first medical man in Ajaccio. By nightfall the chateau was full of self-invited guests, attracted thither by the rumours which had reached their ears concerning the events of the day, and all sorts of surmises and suggestions were made as to the probable perpetrators of the outrage. The doctor, too, as well as the friends of the murdered man, was there, and the former had on seeing his patient lost no time in administering a powerful opiate with the object of procuring for the unfortunate Isabel a temporary relief from the unnatural excitement of her overtaxed brain.
“When at length the drug had done its work, and the poor girl lay stretched upon her bed in a state of unconsciousness, a general consultation was held, at which it was resolved to spare no pains to discover and punish the authors of so atrocious a crime, and with this understanding the visitors on the following morning departed on their several ways.
“For days the efforts put forth to discover the offenders resulted in a complete failure, and in the meantime poor Isabel lay tossing restlessly with brain-fever. At length one night an intoxicated French soldier blurted out the secret in the hearing of every one of the occupants of the tavern, and a little judicious questioning, mingled with occasional expressions of incredulity, extracted from the fellow the full details of the crime. These were promptly communicated to Count di Solzi, who immediately called upon the officer who had been named as the chief culprit, and taxed him with it.
“The wretch scornfully admitted his share in the outrage, and scoffed at the agonising grief of the poor old man. A challenge followed, as a matter of course, and a meeting was arranged for the following morning; but when that morning dawned, the French officer was found dead in bed, stabbed to the heart. The count was immediately arrested on suspicion of being the assassin, and though all the neighbouring nobility knew the charge to be as monstrous and ill-founded as ever was brought against mortal man, and did all that lay in our power to have the matter properly investigated—and though soon after his arrest one of his own servants came voluntarily forward and confessed that it was he, and not his master, who had done the deed—poor Isabel’s father was summarily tried, sentenced, and hanged over the gate of his own chateau.
“This act of base and cruel injustice, coupled with the previous outrage, caused the smouldering spark of discontent and disaffection to blaze forth at once into a devastating insurrectionary flame.
“The most ruthless reprisals were forthwith resorted to on both sides; assassination, secret and open, became the order of the day; the Corsicans flew to arms, and the struggle commenced which is now being waged, and which can never end until the hated French have been extirpated from off the face of the island.”
“And how fared the unhappy Isabel meanwhile?” I inquired.
“She was on her father’s arrest brought here at the imminent risk of her life,” replied the count, “and while she still lay delirious, her father’s execution took place; the chateau was then sacked, and when the soldiers had loaded themselves with every article of value which it was possible for them to take away, they set fire to the place, and, driving back at the point of the bayonet all who approached for the purpose of extinguishing the flames, stood by until it was burned to the ground. It was late at night before all was done, and the officer in charge of the troops who had carried through this shameful deed of murder and spoliation was imprudent enough to camp for the night close to the scene of the outrage. Sentinels were duly posted, and everything was, as this man thought, made perfectly secure; but he was fatally mistaken. The sentinels were surprised in detail, and despatched without having had an opportunity to give the alarm, and then a band of upwards of 100 armed Corsicans stole in upon the defenceless camp and slaughtered every one of the sleeping Frenchmen—not one survived to tell the tale.
“Isabel, contrary to expectation, rapidly recovered both her health and her reason; but it soon became apparent that a terrible change had been wrought in her, thoughhowterrible we did not realise until afterwards.
“Of course it was not to be expected that a girl who had passed through what she had would ever be the same again, but there was a change in her, apart from what might reasonably have been expected under the circumstances. Her reason appeared to be completely restored; she talked calmly and rationally enough upon all subjects, not excepting even her misfortunes; but there was a coldness and reserve about her, even with us, her most intimate friends, which we found it very difficult to understand. At length one day we missed her, and apprehensive of a recurrence of the temporary aberration of intellect from which she had so recently recovered, we searched for her in all directions for three whole days without success, at the end of which time we received a note from her, thanking us for what she was pleased to term our great kindness, and informing us that she had taken steps to carry out the sole purpose of her future life, which was vengeance upon the authors of her wrongs, and the enemies of her country. We knew not what to make of this statement at first, but we soon afterwards learned that it meant she had formed a guerilla band at the head of which she had placed herself—the avowed object of which is war to the knife with the French, as long as any of them remain in Corsica.
“And most terribly has she carried out her purpose so far, for already nearly 300 Frenchmen have perished upon the weapons of her band, and fourteen French officers have met their deaths at her own hands.
“The adoption of so vindictive a purpose has gained for her the title of Bell’ Demonio, a title which she has accepted as perfectly appropriate, and as indicative of the relentless vengeance which her enemies may look for from her.”
“What a terrible history of wanton wrong and of merciless retribution!” I exclaimed, when the count had finished his narrative. “It is horrible to think that beings claiming to be civilised can be capable of such monstrous deeds, but it is so, as I can testify from the conversation of the Frenchmen who took me prisoner, and by the bye that reminds me thatyouwere the subject of their remarks. Have you any reason to suppose yourself in any sort of danger?”
“Well, no,” replied the count; “I should scarcely say that I consider myself in absolutedanger; of course it is only reasonable to suppose that, since my brother has placed himself at the head of the insurgents, I should be regarded with a certain amount of suspicion; but that occasions me no anxiety whatever, for I have no one about me but those whom I can implicitly trust, and even to them I confide no more than I can possibly help, so I think I may say I am reasonably safe from betrayal. At the same time I omit no precaution, because I have strong reason to suppose that my actions are being watched, as I believe I have already mentioned. But perhaps you will favour me with a recapitulation of the remarks made by the French concerning me? I have hitherto had no means of ascertaining exactly in what estimation they hold me, and any light on the subject would be especially valuable just now.”
In accordance with this request, I related the substance of the conversation which had occurred among the Frenchmen while I was being conveyed toward Ajaccio. The count listened intently, never interrupting me once, but I could see by the expression of his features how powerfully he was moved, especially by the remarks which had reference to his daughter. When I had finished—
“Thank you signor—how shall I call you?” said he.
“My name is Ralph Chester,” I replied.
“I thank you sincerely, Signor Ralph, for the very valuable information which you have afforded me. It gives to my position an altogether new and somewhat alarming aspect. It is true that I am safe, so far as the papers which you brought are concerned; they are out of my hands, and, even if discovered, contain nothing which could possibly compromise me; but what you have just told me appears to indicate a decideddesireon the part of the French to find some excuse for molesting me. Personally, there is nothing I should like better than an opportunity for holding the chateau against an attack from the French. I hate them with a deadly hatred—heaven knows it is not without ample cause!—but if the day were to go against us, I shudder to think of the inevitable fate of my darling child. But, signor, she should never fall into their hands alive. I would rather blot out her innocent young life with these unarmed hands than leave her alive at the mercy of those fiends. I have already told you somewhat of what they can do, but they are capable of even greater refinement of cruelty than that which poor Bell’ Demonio experienced at their hands. I am glad to have heard what you have just told me, but it greatly increases my anxiety; could I only place Francesca in safety it would not greatly matter, but as it is—yes, I must endeavour to find a secure retreat for my child, or I shall have no further peace of mind. The more I think of it the clearer does it become that the chateau is no longer a fit place for her.”
We conversed for some time longer, and then Maria made her appearance, and, with the licence of an old servant, unhesitatingly expressed her conviction that I had conversed far more freely than was at all good for me in my feeble condition, and asserted decidedly that unless I were at once left for the rest of the day in perfect quiet, the direst consequences would surely follow. Upon this the count abruptly took his departure, with an elaborate apology for what he chose to term his want of consideration.
For the remainder of the day a strict embargo was laid upon my room by that stern old disciplinarian, Maria, and on the following day the count was only permitted to enter for the purpose of making a few brief but kind inquiries as to my progress.
I spent the time chiefly in meditating upon the charms of the count’s lovely daughter, and in hoping for the happiness of a visit from her; but to my intense disappointment she remained invisible. Maria mounted strict guard over me, and when circumstances necessitated her absence, the dark-eyed Angela was called in to relieve the watch.
The latter was evidently willing enough to chat with me, but it soon became apparent that she had received her orders from Maria, and that she entertained too wholesome a dread of that individual lightly to disobey her. Under these circumstances the time dragged on wearily enough, so that when on the fourth day I received permission to rise from my bed and change my room for an hour or two, I regarded the inflexible Maria with feelings of gratitude almost akin to love.
The experience of a sick-bed is unfortunately so little a rarity that most of my readers will be able to realise for themselves the delight with which, after a refreshing toilet, and clad in the easiest as well as the most gorgeous of dressing-gowns, I passed out through the door of the sick-room. The sprightly Angela was my guide, and also to a great extent my support, as we passed down a short corridor and turned into a small but elegantly furnished room single glance round which was sufficient to assure me that I was in the favoured abode of beauty. A table littered with a variety of those flimsy trifles which ladies are wont to dignify with the name of “work” occupied the centre of the room, a harp stood in one corner and a guitar in another, an easel supporting an unfinished sketch in water-colours stood by one of the two windows which lighted the room, and a small bookcase filled with elegantly-bound books occupied a niche in one of the walls. A tiny riding-gauntlet of embroidered leather trimmed with lace, and a gold-mounted riding-switch lay upon a most inviting-looking couch, while an open book, placed face downwards, occupied a low-seated reclining chair, which faced the other window; some small but choice water-colours graced the walls, and against that which faced the windows stood a small chamber organ. In addition to these evidences of taste and luxury there were a few small but exquisite statuettes supported on wall brackets; delicate alabaster vases of choice and sweetly-scented flowers, and a cage of gaily plumaged birds.
“There!” said my guide, as she deposited me in the most comfortable chair in the room, “is that to your liking, signor?”
“Perfectly,” I replied. “But see here, Angela, have you not made some mistake? Was it understood that I was to occupy this room? If I may hazard a guess, I should say it is your mistress’s own especial apartment, the one to which she retreats when she desires strict privacy.”
“You are quite right, signor, it is my lady’s boudoir, but the count’s instructions were that you were to be taken to the most comfortable room in the chateau; and though there are many larger and more grand, I know of none where you would be quite so comfortable as in this.”
“I have no doubt you are perfectly right, little one,” said I; “but I greatly fear that in taking possession of this apartment I shall be intruding—”
“It is very unkind of you to think any such thing, signor; no one who has suffered as you have in the cause of my countrymen could ever be deemed an intruder inanyof the apartments of the Chateau Paoli,” said a clear, silvery voice behind me. I turned and saw that the owner of the apartment had just entered at the open door in time to hear my remark.
The beautiful girl looked more lovely than ever, I thought, as she somewhat shyly congratulated me on the progress I had made toward recovery.
She playfully scolded the unabashed Angela for not putting the room in somewhat better order before introducing me to it, apologised for the state of confusion which it was in, and finally asked me if she could do anything to add to my comfort. With all the boldness of a British midshipman, I at once replied that my comfort and happiness would be complete if she would but condescend to favour me with as much of her society as possible.
The dear girl blushed, laughed, called me a bold boy, and then, at my earnest request, placed herself in a chair near me, and, after a slight pause of embarrassment, commenced a conversation, the theme of which was the struggle upon which the Corsicans had just entered.
This, of course, was all very well and highly interesting; no one could have looked at and listened to so lovely a creature unmoved as she descanted in feeling language upon the wrongs from which the Corsicans had suffered so greatly at the hands of the French; but, to tell the truth, I felt just then too weak to take more than a languid interest in the subject, it was too exciting for me in my invalid condition, besides which, I perceived that the theme was a painful one to my companion; I therefore gradually drew the conversation into a lighter channel, and we were soon deep in the discussion of poetry, music, and painting, subjects in which we both seemed to be equally interested, and our enthusiasm upon which speedily broke down the slight barrier of reserve which had interposed itself between us at the commencement of the interview. The result was that when that objectionable old party, Maria, came to announce the arrival of the moment when a return to my own room was judged advisable, she found us both comfortably established upon the same lounge, sitting very close to each other, and deep in the beauties of a portfolio of choice engravings which rested upon our knees; moreover, we had grown so confidential that by mutual agreement our usual formal style of address had been discarded, my young hostess promising to call me “Ralph,” if I would address her as “Francesca.”
From this date my progress toward perfect recovery was rapid. A few days more were passed in Francesca’s boudoir, in the enjoyment of her delightful society, and then came the happy moment when supported by her arm, I was able to move slowly and for short distances about the superbly laid-out grounds of the chateau. These delightful walks, which became more extended every day, naturally resulted in the establishment of still more intimate relations between us, and in a very short time each knew all about the past history and the future prospects of the other. The latter were eminently satisfactory on both sides, for, with all the assurance of a boy and a midshipman, I speedily announced my intention of winning my post rank in the shortest possible amount of time, chiefly as a desirable preliminary to my return to Corsica for the purpose of claiming the lovely Francesca’s hand in marriage.
The sweet girl laughed heartily at me, at first; though younger than myself, she was more of a woman than I was of a man, and she assumed with me a great many of the airs of a senior; but upon my vehement and repeated protestations of the seriousness and permanent nature of my intentions, her laughter ceased, she became embarrassed and agitated, and finally, after much pressing, assured me, her face crimsoned with blushes the while, that if I ever came to claim her, she would be mine.
Now I am quite aware that my conduct in this respect was wrong. I was too young, and my prospects were far too vague at that time, to justify me in speaking of love to any woman, besides which, in so unceremoniously laying siege to the beautiful Francesca’s susceptible heart, I might, for all that I could tell, be seriously interfering with the count’s plans for his daughter’s future. But at the time neither of us thought anything of this, or of any thing or being but ourselves; we were perfectly content with the state of things as they were, happy in the present, and quite agreed as to the future, to which, however, neither of us gave a single serious thought. I do not think Francesca was to blame in the matter, she had never had a mother to teach her prudence, butIcertainly acted very wrongly, for, though little more than a boy, I was old enough to know better.
I offer no excuse for my conduct, it was quite inexcusable, but as I am telling the story of my life, I feel that I should not be dealing fairly with my readers did I attempt to pass over my faults and misdeeds in silence.
A day or two more passed swiftly away, I was rapidly regaining strength, my fractured arm-bone had knit itself firmly together again—though of course it was still quite useless, the splints not having been removed, and the use of a sling promising to remain a necessity for some little time longer—and I was revolving seriously in my mind the question of what would be the best course to pursue in order to rejoin my ship, when a little incident occurred which immediately diverted my thoughts in an entirely different direction.
Francesca and I were sauntering slowly down the broad tree-bordered drive which led from the main road to the chateau, when a man passed us. Francesca stopped him, to ask a question or two, and to give him some directions, and I thus got a full view of his features for perhaps quite three minutes. To my intense surprise I recognised in him the individual who had betrayed me to the French troops, and who had without doubt betrayed them in turn to Bell’ Demonio’s guerilla band; in a word, it was Guiseppe.
When our eyes met for the first time I saw in a moment that he not only recognised me, but also that he was most anxious to know whether I recognised him. I had it on the tip of my tongue to tax him with his perfidy, and to threaten to denounce him; but there was a something in his glance which gave me the idea that he was meditating further treachery, and I instantly decided that the most effective means to defeat his plans, if he entertained any, would be to throw him off his guard, and watch keenly the course of events; I therefore assumed a calmness and indifference of demeanour which I certainly did not feel, and looked at him as though I had never seen him before.
Waiting until the fellow was well out of ear-shot, I asked Francesca whether he was one of the servants at the chateau.
“Well, no,” she replied, “he is not exactly that. He is merely a kind of hanger-on; his father died in our service, and this man was, in his younger days, one of our stable-boys, but he left us about a year ago to become a wood-cutter and charcoal-burner, and since then he just comes and goes when he likes, finding board and lodging when he requires it, and giving in return any trifling services that may be required of him.”
Nothing more was said about the man at that time, but I resolved to speak to Count Lorenzo about him at the first opportunity.
This presented itself the same evening, on our return to the chateau. I recalled to the count’s mind the conversation which had passed respecting him among the French soldiers, and also directed his attention to the fact that the subject of my remarks had been referred to in terms which seemed to leave no room for doubt as to his treachery.
“But the individual of whom you speak was called Guiseppe, was he not?” remarked the count, when I had said my say.
“Certainly,” I replied. “What is the name of this man?”
“Matteo, Matteo Bartolozzi is his full name,” replied the count. “I thought there must be a mistake somewhere; you have evidently been misled, my friend, by an accidental resemblance. Matteo a traitor! Pardon me, my dear Signor Ralpho, but if you knew the poor fellow as well as I do, you would recognise the absurdity of the supposition. I have known Matteo all his life, and I should have no hesitation in trusting him withanything, ay, even with my daughter’s safety.”
“Heaven forbid that such a necessity should ever arise,” I fervently exclaimed. “It would be better to confide her to the protection of a pack of starving wolves. I amnotdeceived by any accidental resemblance, I feel as sure of the identity of this man, whom you call Matteo, with the traitor Guiseppe, as I am of my own existence. Believe me, count, I would not speak so positively, did there exist the faintest possibility of doubt.”
“But, my good sir,” returned the count somewhat tartly, “I assure you that what you say is quite impossible. I repeat, I have known the man all his life, and I have done him nothing but good. I have befriended him in a thousand ways, and I know he would lay down his life rather than bring harm to me and mine.”
I saw that my efforts to undeceive the count were worse than useless, and I therefore abandoned the attempt; at the same time his arguments utterly failed to convince me that I had been mistaken, they did not even raise the most transitory doubt in my mind; I therefore determined to simply wait and watch the course of events.