The Corsican Brothers | Page 8

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.
It seemed to me, in fact, that upon my arrival at this house, I had entered a new world. I appeared to live in a dream. What circumstances could be connected with this woman, who had her rifle like a soldier? What, with this young man, who felt the same pains as his brother, at a distance of three hundred leagues? How could I explain the mystery of a mother who makes her son promise to tell her, if he should see her other son dead?
There was, you must acknowledge, in all this, sufficient matter for reverie.
But observing that my continued silence bordered upon impoliteness, I raised my head, and endeavored to shake off this confusion of ideas.
Both mother and son saw at once, that I intended to take up the subject again.
"And,'' began Lucien, as if he was merely continuing an uninterrupted conversation, "you concluded to visit Corsica?"
"Yes, so you see; I formed this project a long time ago, and have at last put it into execution."
"By my soul, you have done well not to delay it longer, for in a few years, with the successive innovations of French taste and customs, those who come here to see Corsica, will find her no more."
"At all events," said I, "if the old national spirit retires before the advances of civilization, and finds a retreat in some remote corner of the island, it will certainly be in the Province of Sartene, and in the Valley of the Tararo."
"You think so?" said the young man, smiling.
"Because it seems to me, that all I see before and around me, is a very fine and noble picture of the old manners and customs of Corsica.
"Yes, sir, but notwithstanding, between my mother and myself, in presence of the souvenirs of four centuries, in this same ancient house with its pinnacles and gratings, the French spirit has entered to influence my brother; has taken him away from us, and