He was a young Corsican from Sartène. He had served in the 11th Regiment, in which his gallantry had secured him promotion at the age of twenty-three.
“Well,” he said, after having bowed to me, “so things have come to a crisis, and no doubt you will soon have a visit from the seconds of Monsieur de Chateau Renaud.”
“They have been here already.”
“I suppose they have left their names and addresses?”
“Here are their cards.”
“Good.”
“Well, your servant has just told me that breakfast is waiting. Suppose we sit down, and after breakfast we can return their visit.”
We entered the salle à manger, and put aside all business for the present.
During the meal Louis questioned me closely concerning my journey in Corsica, and I told him all the incidents with which the reader is acquainted. He made me repeat, over and over again, all that his mother and brother had said. He was quite touched, knowing the true Corsican instincts of Lucien, with the care he had taken to reconcile the Orlandi and the Colona.