“Yes, sir,” she replied smiling; “but on condition that you, on your part, will excuse the rusticity of your reception.”
I bowed my thanks, and followed the servant upstairs.
The room was situated on the first floor, and looked out towards the rear of the house, upon a pretty and extensive garden, well planted with various trees, and watered by a charming little stream, which fell into the Tavaro.
At the further end the prospect was bounded by a hedge, so thick as to appear like a wall. As is the case in almost all Italian houses, the walls of the rooms were white-washed and frescoed.
I understood immediately that Madame de Franchi had given me this, her absent son’s chamber, because it was the most comfortable one in the house.
While Maria was lighting the fire and fetching the hot water, I took it into my head to make an inventory of the room, and try to arrive at an estimation of the character of its usual occupant by those means.
I immediately put this idea into execution, and beginning with the left hand, I took mental notes of the various objects by which I was surrounded.
The furniture all appeared to be modern, a circumstance which in that part of the island, where civilization had not then taken deep root, appeared to indicate no inconsiderable degree of luxury. It was composed of an iron bedstead and bedding, a sofa, four arm-chairs, six other occasional chairs, a wardrobe, half book case and half bureau, all of mahogany, from the first cabinet maker in Ajaccio.
The sofas and chairs were covered with chintz, and curtains of similar material fell before the windows, and hung round the bed.