"We do not fear them," we remarked, unable to help laughing.
"Ah, poor fellows! They are often ill-used men, and forced into their way of life. Is it not so, my friends?" he asked, turning to his companions.
"They are brave men," said mine host gravely.
"They may be ill-used," remarked No. 3; "but they are not brave when they lay wait for their enemy and shoot him concealed in the maquis. It would surely be more manly to give him a chance."
"Yes," said the big garde forestier, "you are right, mademoiselle. The man who fires upon his foe from the maquis is a lâche. He should shoot him in the open street."
"Quite so, mon cher," said M. le General, "always provided that his enemy has not a pistol with which to return the compliment!"
But the Corsicans looked grave at this levity; and the versatile General had soon found another topic of conversation.
"Is it true, mesdemoiselles," he asked, as he poured a half-pint of sweet oil over his salad, "that you meditate going to the Inzecca precipices to-morrow?"
"We do," we replied.
"You had better not go, ladies. Ah! mon Dieu! there are precipices indeed! It is terrible. Such a road! One slip of the horse's foot—one stone rolling—and vous voilà perdues!"