“It is as I say.”
I looked at the young man as he was speaking to me. He was cool, calm, and grave, and I could not help repeating with Hamlet—
“There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,
Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
In Paris I should have thought that this young man was hoaxing me; but here in Corsica, in a little unknown village, one must look upon him either as a foolish person endeavouring to deceive one for his own purposes, or as a privileged being amongst other men.
“And now,” he said, after a long silence, “are you satisfied?”
“Yes, thank you,” I answered. “I appreciate your confidence, and will promise to keep your secret.”
“Oh, goodness,” he said, laughing, “there is no secret in the matter—the first peasant you meet would tell you all I have told you; I only hope that in Paris my brother has not boasted of this privilege, which would only cause men to laugh, and would frighten the ladies.”
So saying, he bade me good-night, and retired to his room.