be seen walking about the
square and the outskirts of the village, in company with the village
constable, the sole representative of the urban police force. The
deputy-mayor never put off his sash. But there was no actual symptom
of war, except the loopholes in the two opponents' houses. Nobody but
a Corsican would have noticed that the group round the evergreen oak in
the middle of the square consisted solely of women.

At supper-time Colomba gleefully showed her brother a letter she had
just received from Miss Nevil.

"My dear Signorina Colomba," it ran, "I learn with great pleasure,
through a letter from your brother, that your enmities are all at an
end. I congratulate you heartily. My father can not endure Ajaccio now
your brother is not there to talk about war and go out shooting with
him. We are starting to-day, and shall sleep at the house of your
kinswoman, to whom we have a letter. The day after to-morrow, somewhere
about eleven o'clock, I shall come and ask you to let me taste that
mountain _bruccio_ of yours, which you say is so vastly superior to what
we get in the town.

"Farewell, dear Signorina Colomba.

"Your affectionate

"LYDIA NEVIL."

"Then she hasn't received my second letter!" exclaimed Orso.

"You see by the date of this one that Miss Lydia must have already
started when your letter reached Ajaccio. But did you tell her not to
come?"

"I told her we were in a state of siege. That does not seem to me a
condition that permits of our receiving company."

"Bah! These English people are so odd. The very last night I slept in
her room she told me she would be sorry to leave Corsica without having
seen a good _vendetta_. If you choose, Orso, you might let her see an
assault on our enemies' house."

"Do you know, Colomba," said Orso, "Nature blundered when she made you a
woman. You'd have made a first-rate soldier."

"Maybe. Anyhow, I'm going to make my _bruccio_."

"Don't waste your time. We must send somebody down to warn them and stop
them before they start."

"Do you mean to say you would send a messenger out in such weather, to
have him and your letter both swept away by a torrent? How I pity those
poor bandits in this storm! Luckily they have good _piloni_ (thick cloth
cloaks with hoods). Do you know what you ought to do, Orso. If the storm
clears you should start off very early to-morrow morning, and get to our
kinswoman's house before they leave it. That will be easy enough, f