FullReads

“Yes, certainly, with the greatest pleasure, if you will be kind enough to
trouble yourself with any thing of the kind. But excuse me, I see that you are
more advanced in your toilette than I am, and in a quarter of an hour supper
will be ready.”

“Is it for me that you go to the trouble of changing your dress?”

“If such was the case, it would be your fault, as you have given me the
example. But at all events I am in my riding dress, and I must put on my
highlander’s garments; after supper I have to take a walk where my boots and
spurs would be very much in the way.”

“You are going out after supper?” asked I.

“Yes,” replied he, “I have a rendezvous.”

I smiled.

“Oh! not in the sense you take it; it is a mere business appointment.”

“Do you believe me so presumptuous as to suppose I have a right to your
confidence?”

“Why not? I think every one should live so as to be able to speak openly of
all his actions. I have never been in love, nor ever shall be; if my brother
takes a wife and has children, it is probable that I shall not marry. If on the
contrary he does not take a wife, I shall be obliged to do so; but it will only
be to prevent the family from becoming extinct. I told you,” added he with a
smile, “that I was a real savage; I came into this world a hundred years too
late. But I continue to talk, and at supper time I shall not be ready.”

“But we can continue our conversation, your room being opposite to mine you
have but to leave the door open and we can hear each other.”

“You can do still better, come into my room, and while I am dressing, as you
are an amateur of weapons I presume, you can examine mine; some of them have a
certain value, an historical one I mean.”

This invitation I accepted, as it enabled me to gratify the desire of
comparing the rooms of the two brothers.

I followed my host, who opened the door of his room, preceding me, to show
the way.

I thought I was entering a real arsenal. All the furniture belonged to the
fifteenth and sixteenth centuries; the carved bedstead, with the canopy
supported by large turned columns, was surrounded by curtains of green damask
with gold flowers; the window curtains were of the same material; the walls were
covered with Spanish leather, and around the walls mere pieces of furniture
supporting trophies of gothic or modern arms.

I could not long be in doubt about the tendency of the occupant of this room;
it was as warlike as that of his brother was peaceable.

“See here,” said he, proceeding to his toilette cabinet, “here you are in the
midst of three centuries; look round, and in the mean time I will dress like a
highlander, for I told you soon after supper I shall have to go out.”

“And which among these swords, arquebuses, and poniards, are the historical
ones of which you spoke?”

“There are three of them; let us proceed in order. Look at the head of my bed
for a single poniard, with a wide sheath, and whose handle forms a seal.”

“Here it is, go on.”

“That is Sampiero’s dagger.”

“The celebrated Sampiero, the assassin of Vanina.”

“The assassin? No—but the murderer.”

“That is the same thing, I believe.”

“In the rest of the world it is, perhaps, but not in Corsica.”

“And this dagger is authentic?”

“Look at it! it bears Sampiero’s arms, only the lily of France is not yet on
it. You know that it was not until after the siege of Perpignan that Sampiero
received permission to join the lily to his blazon.”

“No, I was not acquainted with that circumstance. But how did this stiletto
come into your possession?”

“It has been in the family for three hundred years, and was given to Napoleon
de Franchi by Sampiero himself.”

“And do you know upon what occasion?”

“Yes. Sampiero and my father fell into a Genoese ambuscade, and defended
themselves like lions; the helmet of Sampiero got loose, and a Genoese on
horseback was on the point of striking him with his mace, when my forefather
plunged his poniard between the joints of his cuirass. The horseman feeling
himself wounded, spurred his horse and flew, taking with him Napoleon de
Franchi’s weapon, which was so profoundly sunk in the wound that he had not been
able to take it out. And when my forefather, who highly prized this poniard,
expressed some regret at his loss, Sampiero gave him his own stiletto. Napoleon
lost nothing in the bargain, for this one is of Spanish manufacture, as you can
see, and will pierce two five-franc pieces, one put over the other.”