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“Eccellenza,” said he, speaking to Lucien, “Signora de Franchi sends me to
announce that supper is waiting your presence.”

“Very well, Griffo,” replied the young man, “say to my mother that we are
coming.”

He had just finished his toilette, and stood before me in his Corsican
highland dress, with a round velvet jacket, breeches, and spatterdashes; he had
retained nothing of his former dress but the cartouchière which encircled his
waist.”

I was still occupied in examining two carabines, which hung opposite each
other, and both bearing this inscription on the stock; “21 Septembre, 1819, onze
heures du matin.”

“And these carabines,” asked I, “are they also historical weapons?”

“Yes,” said he, “to us at least. One belonged to my father—” He stopped.

“And the other?”

“The other!” continued he, laughing, “belongs to my mother. But come down
stairs now, you know that supper waits for us.”

And walking out first to show me the way, he made a sign for me to follow.

CHAPTER III

I must confess that while I walked down stairs, Lucien’s last words, “this
carabine belongs to my mother,” occupied my thoughts very much. They were
certainly calculated to make me regard Signora de Franchi with still greater
interest, than I had done at my first interview with her.

Her son, upon entering the dining saloon, respectfully kissed her hand, which
homage she received with the dignity of a queen.

“Pardon me, mother,” said Lucien,

“I fear that I have kept you waiting.”

“In that case, signora,” said I, bowing, “it would be my fault. Signor Lucien
has related and shown me so many interesting things, that my endless questions
have perhaps caused him to be too late.”

“Be easy on that subject,” replied she, “I have but just come down; but,”
continued she, speaking to Lucien, “I was anxious to see you, to learn if you
had any news from Louis.”

“Is your son suffering?” asked I of Madame de Franchi.

“Lucien is afraid of it,” replied she.

“You have then received a letter from your brother?” inquired I.

“No,” said he, “and that especially makes me uneasy.”

“But how do you know that he is suffering?”

“Because, for the last few days I have been suffering myself.”

“Excuse my never-ending inquiries, but that does not explain the cause.”

“Don’t you know that we are twins?”

“Yes, my guide told me so.”

“And that at our birth we were united at the side?”

“No, I did not know that circumstance.”

“Well then, the use of the scalpel was required to separate us, and whatever
distance may lie between, we form only one body; so that every physical and
moral impression which is made upon either of us, has its counter effect upon
the other. For the last few days, without any reason, I have been sad, morose
and gloomy. I have felt violent contractions of the heart, and it is evident to
me that my brother must have some profound grief.”

I looked with astonishment at this young man, who asserted such strange
things, without appearing to have the least doubt on the subject. His mother
seemed likewise to have the same conviction, she smiled sadly, and said:

“The absent is in the hands of God. It is most important that you be sure he
lives.”

“If he were dead,” said Lucien, calmly, “I should have seen him.”

“And you would have told me, my son?”

“Oh! the very moment, mother, I assure you.”

“Well then, pardon me, sir,” continued she, turning again towards me, “for
not having suppressed my maternal anxieties in your presence. You must know that
Lucien and Louis are not alone my only sons, but they are also the last of our
name. Please take a seat at my right-hand side.”

“Lucien, sit down here,” said she pointing to a vacant seat on her left.

We sat down at the extremity of a long table, on the opposite side of which
were six other covers, for what they call in Corsica the family, those persons
who in great houses hold a station between the master and servants.

The table was spread with profusion; but I confess, that notwithstanding I
felt al that moment a most violent appetite, I merely satisfied it mechanically,
my prepossessed mind not permitting me to indulge in the delicate pleasure of
gastronomy.