At the Chateau Paoli.
“To-day is Wednesday,” commenced the count. “On Sunday evening last, just as it was growing dusk, I was informed that Bell’ Demonio requested an audience on a matter of great import. I accordingly descended to the library, into which this extraordinary woman had been shown, and on inquiring the nature of her business she informed me that on the previous Wednesday—a week ago to-day, in fact—a detachment of her band had attacked and destroyed a party of French troops, who had with them as prisoner a young Englishman—yourself of course. She stated that in the attack you had unfortunately been wounded, and your wound having been left unattended to for some hours, fever had set in. She nursed you as well as she could up to Sunday, when finding that no improvement in your condition took place, she grew alarmed, and having learned from your disjointed ravings that you had some business with me, determined to come on to the chateau and request that I would take you under my care. I of course assented at once, and in a couple of hours more you were brought here, strapped to a stretcher—that being the only way in which you could be kept sufficiently quiescent to prevent irreparable injury to your wounded arm.
“Circumstances did not permit of my sending into Ajaccio for a physician, but most fortunately my daughter’s old nurse Maria is well skilled in matters relating to medicine and surgery, and her services were at once called into requisition. She soon discovered that the unskilful treatment of your wound was the chief cause of your illness, and with infinite difficulty, for you were very violent, we succeeded in getting the limb reset, and the wound properly attended to. This done, the fever soon yielded to the influence of the medicines which the good soul administered with rigorous punctuality. In the meantime, however, you spoke several times about certain papers concerning which you seemed to be singularly anxious, and at length by patiently listening to your rambling utterances we were enabled to make a shrewd guess as to their whereabouts. I set out in search of them, and discovered your bag, with the papers intact, safely concealed beneath a pile of brushwood in the corner of the old hut on the moor.”
“Then I have been ill a whole week?” I exclaimed in considerable dismay.
“Exactly so,” replied the count. “How long did you imagine your illness had lasted?”
“About two days,” I replied.
“Well, it is just a week,” remarked the count. “I hope you are not in any very serious hurry to leave us. In the first place I doubt whether Maria will consent to your rising from your bed for at least another week, and after that you will be some time regaining a sufficiency of strength to enable you to travel, and in the next place I am anxious to cultivate the acquaintance of one who has done so great a service to us Corsicans.”
“You are extremely kind, count,” said I, “and under other circumstances there is nothing I should like better than to remain your guest as long as I could find a decent excuse for so doing; but my ship, the ‘Juno,’ has gone to the north end of the island, where we all expect there will be some very smart work shortly, and I would not miss being with her for anything I could name.”
“Ha, ha! not very complimentary to us, eh, Francesca?” laughed my host. “This young fire-eating English sailor-officer would rather be where his brains would be ever in jeopardy than enjoying the dolce far niente up here among the hills. What very pugnacious animals you Englishmen are, to be sure!
“But do not fear, my dear boy, nothing will be done there yet for a little while, and, if you lake great care of yourself, it is quite possible you may yet be able to rejoin the ‘Juno’ in time to get your full share of the hard knocks to be had there, and which will doubtless be plentiful enough to suit even the most impetuous of your countrymen.”