No. 3's new friend walked home beside her, and was an exceedingly agreeable companion.
He spoke very good French, and his stature, which was small but dignified, was augmented by a large shiny black hat.
No. 3 felt quite glad of his manly escort as she passed through the great square again.
"Are there no women in Sartene?" she asked, "or do they never come out of doors?"
"They come out in the evening, mademoiselle, and walk about; but they never leave their houses in the morning, unless it is to go to Mass. They have plenty to do indoors."
"And the men do nothing?"
"It is not a man's place to do household work," replied the young man, with evasive dignity.
The carriage was at the hotel door as the two came up, and the young Corsican took off his cap politely as we drove away.
From Sartene to Ajaccio is a nine-hours' drive, without any pause; and of course cannot be done without a change of horses half-way.
These we had ordered at Bechisano, but they did not arrive, and great was Antonio's disgust when we had finally, after an hour's waiting, to drag on our tired horses to Grosseto, where we found the fresh couple awaiting us.