ose from, so after looking out carefully for the
one that promised the most comfort, I decided in favour of a strong,
fortified, squarely-built house.

"Certainly," said my guide. "That is the house of Madame Savilia de
Franchi. Your honour has chosen wisely."

I was a little uncertain whether it was quite the right thing for me to
seek hospitality at a house belonging to a lady, for, being only
thirty-six, I considered myself a young man. But I found it quite
impossible to make my guide understand my feelings. The notion that my
staying a night could give occasion for gossip concerning my hostess, or
that it made any difference whether I was old or young, was
unintelligible to a Corsican.

Madame Savilia, I learnt from the guide, was about forty, and had two
sons--twins--twenty-one years old. One lived with his mother, and was a
Corsican; the other was in Paris, preparing to be a lawyer.

We soon arrived at the house we sought. My guide knocked vigorously at
the door, which was promptly opened by a man in velvet waistcoat and
breeches and leather gaiters. I explained that I sought hospitality, and
was answered in return that the house was honoured by my request. My
luggage was carried off, and I entered.

In the corridor a beautiful woman, tall, and dressed in black, met me.
She bade me welcome, and promised me that of her son, telling me that
the house was at my service.

A maid-servant was called to conduct me to the room of M. Louis, and as
supper would be served in an hour, I went upstairs.

My room was evidently that of the absent son, and the most comfortable
in the house. Its furniture was all modern, and there was a well-filled
bookcase. I hastily looked at the volumes; they denoted a student of
liberal mind.

A few minutes later, and my host, M. Lucien de Franchi, entered. I
observed that he was young, of sunburnt complexion, well made, and
fearless and resolute in his bearing.

"I am anxious to see that you have all you need," he said, "for we
Corsicans are still savages, and this old hospitality, which is almost
the only tradition of our forefathers left, has its shortcomings for the
French."

I assured him that the apartment was far from suggesting savagery.

"My brother Louis likes to live after the French fashion," Lucien
answered. He went on to speak of his brother, for whom he had a profound
affection. They had already been parted for ten months, and it was three
or four years before Louis