The Corsican Brothers | Page 7

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.
"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 cartouchire 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