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“Can I try the experiment?”

“Certainly you may!”

I put two five-franc pieces upon the floor, and struck them with great force.
Lucien had told me the truth, and when I took the poniard up again, the two
pieces were attached to its point, pierced through and through.

“This is certainly Sampiero’s dagger,” said I, “but I am astonished, that
having such a weapon in his possession, he should have used a rope to kill his
wife with.”

“He did not have it at that time,” said Lucien, “as he had given it to my
forefather.”

“That’s true.”

“Sampiero was over sixty years of age, at the time, when he purposely came
over from Constantinople to Aix, in order to give this great lesson to the
world, that it is not women’s business to interfere with the affairs of the
government.”

I bowed in sign of approbation, and put the weapon in its place.

“Now, said I to Lucien,” who continued his toilette, “here is Sampiero’s
poniard on its nail again, go on now to another.”

“You see two portraits, alongside of each other?”

“Yes. Paoli and Napoleon.”

“Well, near Paoli’s portrait is a sword.”

“Exactly.”

“That is his.”

“Paoli’s sword, and as authentic as Sampiero’s stiletto?”

“Certainly; for like that one, it has been given not to one of my
forefathers, but to one of my foremothers. Perhaps you have heard of the woman,
who, during the wars of independence, came to introduce herself at the tower of
Sullacaro, accompanied by a young man?”

“No, tell me this story.”

“It is short.”

“So much the better, we have no time to gossip.”

“Well, this woman and the young man introduced themselves at the tower of
Sullacaro, and asked for Paoli. But Paoli being occupied in writing, they were
not admitted, and as she still insisted, the two sentinels forced them out.
Meanwhile, Paoli hearing the noise, opened the door, and asked who had
occasioned it.”

“I have,” said the woman, “I wanted to speak to you.”

“And what have you to say?”

“I had two sons. I was informed yesterday, that one of them had been killed
in the defence of his country, and I have traveled twenty leagues to offer you
the second.”

“That is a Spartan scene, which you relate?”

“Yes; it does indeed seem like it.”

“And who was that woman?”

“She was one of my ancestors. Paoli loosened his sword and gave it to her.”

“Her? I like this way of complimenting a lady.”

“Yes; it was worthy of both parties.”

“And now, this sabre?”

“Is the one which Buonaparte wore at the battle of the Pyramids.”

“No doubt it came into your family in the same way as the poniard and the
sword?”

“Exactly so. After the battle, Buonaparte ordered my grandfather, who was
then an officer of the Guides, to charge, with some fifty men, a number of
Mamelukes who had continued to fight, keeping in their centre a wounded chief.
My grandfather executed this order, dispersed the Mamelukes, made their chief a
prisoner, and brought him to the first Consul. But while in the act of putting
up his sabre, he found the blade so much hacked, that it would not enter the
sheath; my grandfather deeming it useless, threw it aside. Buonaparte observing
this act, gave him, in its place, his own sabre.”

“But,” said I, “if I were in your place, I would just as well like to have
the sabre of my grandfather with all its notches, as that of the General in
Chief, in all its brightness.”

“Look on the other side, and you will find that also. The first Consul took
it up, got the diamond, which you see there, inserted in the handle, and then
sent it to my family with an inscription, Which you will see on the blade.”

Indeed, between the two windows and half way out of its sheath, which it
could not enter, I discovered the sabre, hacked and bent, with this simple
inscription, “Bataille Des Pyramides, 21 Juillet, 1798.”

At this moment, the same servant who had received me, and had after awhile
informed me of the arrival of his young master, made his appearance in the door.