“Yes, monsieur,” replied Orso.
“I had the honour of knowing your father.”
The ordinary commonplaces of conversation were soon exhausted. The colonel, in spite of himself, yawned pretty frequently. Orso, as a liberal, did not care to converse with a satellite of the Government. The burden of the conversation fell on Miss Lydia. The prefect, on his side, did not let it drop, and it was clear that he found the greatest pleasure in talking of Paris, and of the great world, to a woman who was acquainted with all the foremost people in European society. As he talked, he now and then glanced at Orso, with an expression of singular curiosity.
“Was it on the Continent that you made M. della Rebbia’s acquaintance?” he inquired.
Somewhat embarrassed, Miss Lydia replied that she had made his acquaintance on the ship which had carried them to Corsica.
“He is a very gentlemanly young fellow,” said the prefect, in an undertone; “and has he told you,” he added, dropping his voice still lower, “why he has returned to Corsica?”
Miss Lydia put on her most majestic air and answered:
“I have not asked him,” she said. “You may do so.”
The prefect kept silence, but, an instant later, hearing Orso speak a few words of English to the colonel, he said:
“You seem to have travelled a great deal, monsieur. You must have forgotten Corsica and Corsican habits.”