The next morning, after breakfast, while sitting in the Countess’s boudoir, Bertha could not refrain from giving an account of what she had seen the previous night.
“Oh, that is a common occurrence,” said the Countess. “The girl whom you saw was Vivienne Batistelli. The drunken man was her younger brother, Julien, who is going to the bad very fast, they say. Her elder brother, Pascal, is very correct in his habits, although of a very bitter and revengeful disposition. Julien is a happy-go-lucky sort of fellow, intent upon having a good time. As is often the case, the sister has no love for her elder brother, but bestows it all upon this young profligate. I used to do the same when my son was young.
“For a time, I thought he could do no wrong, no matter how badly he acted, but when he showed such complete disregard for my wishes, when he told me plainly that he intended to do as he pleased, no matter what I said or what I wished, there came a revulsion. Although I am his mother, I am not ashamed to say that instead of loving him, I came to hate the sight of him, and am never happy when he is near me. He is virtually betrothed, with the consent of her brother Pascal, to this Vivienne Batistelli, but that would make no difference to him if he saw another young face that pleased him. He is a consummate flirt, if no worse.
“I sincerely hope that nothing will happen to bring him here to Corsica; but if he does come, he will find that I am mistress of this castle, and that he cannot remain in it, unless with my permission.”
CHAPTER XII.
CROMILLIAN, THE MORAL BANDIT.
When Cromillian uttered his fervent invocation to his gun and then discharged both barrels into the air, he may have thought that his lieutenant, Paoli, would have signified his allegiance to the cause, and his endorsement of the sentiments expressed by a similar declaration, and an equally vociferous attestation, but if such a thought was in Cromillian’s mind, he was destined to be disappointed. The lieutenant evinced no surprise at Cromillian’s procedure and said nothing.
Cromillian’s next speech was a marked drop to the commonplace:
“I wonder where Lulie is? She was to bring some food for us to this place. If she does not come, we shall have to share with the others. There is a savoury smell in the air, so I think we shall not go hungry.”
Cromillian’s favourite haunt in the ravine was only about five miles from Alfieri, but this fact was, of course, unknown to the villagers, who seldom came in that direction. A band of four shepherds, however, in search of some stray sheep, was unconsciously within a short distance of Cromillian’s camp at the time he was waiting for the appearance of Lulie.
The search for the sheep was unsuccessful and the shepherds, inwardly cursing their luck, were on their way homeward.