left when young, to go first
to college, and then to the Ecole militaire, had remained in his
imagination surrounded with poetic associations. When he talked of its
mountains, its forests, and the quaint customs of its inhabitants
he grew eager and animated. As may be imagined, the word _vengeance_
occurred more than once in the stories he told--for it is impossible
to speak of the Corsicans without either attacking or justifying their
proverbial passion. Orso somewhat surprised Miss Nevil by his general
condemnation of the undying hatreds nursed by his fellow-countrymen.
As regarded the peasants, however, he endeavoured to excuse them, and
claimed that the _vendetta_ is the poor man's duel. "So true is this,"
he said, "that no assassination takes place till a formal challenge
has been delivered. 'Be on your guard yourself, I am on mine!' are the
sacramental words exchanged, from time immemorial, between two enemies,
before they begin to lie in wait for each other. There are more
assassinations among us," he added, "than anywhere else. But you will
never discover an ignoble cause for any of these crimes. We have many
murderers, it is true, but not a single thief."

When he spoke about vengeance and murder Miss Lydia looked at him
closely, but she could not detect the slightest trace of emotion on
his features. As she had made up her mind, however, that he possessed
sufficient strength of mind to be able to hide his thoughts from every
eye (her own, of course, excepted), she continued in her firm belief
that Colonel della Rebbia's shade would not have to wait long for the
atonement it claimed.

The schooner was already within sight of Corsica. The captain pointed
out the principal features of the coast, and, though all of these
were absolutely unknown to Miss Lydia, she found a certain pleasure
in hearing their names; nothing is more tiresome than an anonymous
landscape. From time to time the colonel's telescope revealed to her
the form of some islander clad in brown cloth, armed with a long gun,
bestriding a small horse, and galloping down steep slopes. In each of
these Miss Lydia believed she beheld either a brigand or a son going
forth to avenge his father's death. But Orso always declared it was some
peaceful denizen of a neighbouring village travelling on business,
and that he carried a gun less from necessity than because it was the
fashion, just as no dandy ever takes a walk without an elegant cane.
Though a gun