CHAPTER XVII
Once rid of his unruly escort, Orso proceeded calmly on his way, farmore absorbed by the prospective pleasure of seeing Miss Nevil thanstirred by any fear of coming across his enemies.
"The lawsuit I must bring against these Barricini villains," he mused,"will necessitate my going down to Bastia. Why should I not go therewith Miss Nevil? And once at Bastia, why shouldn't we all go together tothe springs of Orezza?"
Suddenly his childish recollections of that picturesque spot rose upbefore him. He fancied himself on the verdant lawn that spreads beneaththe ancient chestnut-trees. On the lustrous green sward, studded withblue flowers like eyes that smiled upon him, he saw Miss Lydia seated athis side. She had taken off her hat, and her fair hair, softer and finerthan any silk, shone like gold in the sunlight that glinted through thefoliage. Her clear blue eyes looked to him bluer than the sky itself.With her cheek resting on one hand, she was listening thoughtfullyto the words of love he poured tremblingly into her ear. She wore themuslin gown in which she had been dressed that last day at Ajaccio. Frombeneath its folds peeped out a tiny foot, shod with black satin. Orsotold himself that he would be happy indeed if he might dare to kiss thatlittle foot--but one of Miss Lydia's hands was bare and held a daisy.He took the daisy from her, and Lydia's hand pressed his, and then hekissed the daisy, and then he kissed her hand, and yet she did notchide him . . . and all these thoughts prevented him from payingany attention to the road he was travelling, and meanwhile he trottedsteadily onward. For the second time, in his fancy, he was about to kissMiss Nevil's snow-white hand, when, as his horse stopped short, he verynearly kissed its head, in stern reality. Little Chilina had barred hisway, and seized his bridle.
"Where are you going to, Ors' Anton'?" she said. "Don't you know yourenemy is close by?"
"My enemy!" cried Orso, furious at being interrupted at such adelightful moment. "Where is he?"
"Orlanduccio is close by, he's waiting for you! Go back, go back!"
"Ho! Ho! So he's waiting for me! Did you see him?"
"Yes, Ors' Anton'! I was lying down in the heather when he passed by. Hewas looking round everywhere through his glass."
"And which way did he go?"
"He went down there. Just where you were going!"
"Thank you!"
"Ors' Anton', hadn't you better wait for my uncle? He must be heresoon--and with him you would be safe."
"Don't be frightened, Chili. I don't need your uncle."
"If you would let me, I would go in front of you."
"No, thanks! No, thanks!"
And Orso, spurring his horse, rode rapidly in the direction to which thelittle girl had pointed.
His first impulse had been one of blind fury, and he had told himselfthat fortune was offering him an excellent opportunity of punishing thecoward who had avenged the blow he had received by mutilating a horse.But as he moved onward the thought of his promise to the prefect, and,above all, his fear of missing Miss Nevil's visit, altered his feelings,and made him almost wish he might not come upon Orlanduccio. Soon,however, the memory of his father, the indignity offered to his ownhorse, and the threats of the Barricini, stirred his rage afresh, andincited him to seek his foe, and to provoke and force him to a fight.Thus tossed by conflicting feelings, he continued his progress, thoughnow he carefully scrutinized every thicket and hedge, and sometimes evenpulled up his horse to listen to the vague sounds to be heard in anyopen country. Ten minutes after he had left little Chilina (it was thenabout nine o'clock in the morning) he found himself on the edge of anexceedingly steep declivity. The road, or rather the very slight path,which he was following, ran through a _maquis_ that had been latelyburned. The ground was covered with whitish ashes, and here and theresome shrubs, and a few big trees, blackened by the flames, and entirelystripped of their leaves, still stood erect--though life had long sincedeparted out of them. The sight of a burned _maquis_ is enough to make aman fancy he has been transported into midwinter in some northern clime,and the contrast between the barrenness of the ground over which theflames have passed, with the luxuriant vegetation round about it,heightens this appearance of sadness and desolation. But at that momentthe only thing that struck Orso in this particular landscape was onepoint--an important one, it is true, in his present circumstances. Thebareness of the ground rendered any kind of ambush impossible, and theman who has reason to fear that at any moment he may see a gun-barrelthrust out of a thicket straight at his own chest, looks on a stretchof smooth ground, with nothing on it to intercept his view, as a kindof oasis. After this burned _maquis_ came a number of cultivated fields,inclosed, according to the fashion of that country, with breast-highwalls, built of dry stones. The path ran between these fields,producing, from a distance, the effect of a thick wood.
The steepness of the declivity made it necessary for Orso to dismount.He was walking quickly down the hill, which was slippery with ashes(he had thrown the bridle on his horse's neck), and was hardlyfive-and-twenty paces from one of these stone fences, when, just infront of him, on the right-hand side of the road, he perceived firstof all the barrel of a gun, and then a head, rising over the top of thewall. The gun was levelled, and he recognised Orlanduccio, just readyto fire. Orso swiftly prepared for self-defence, and the two men, takingdeliberate aim, stared at each other for several seconds, with thatthrill of emotion which the bravest must feel when he knows he musteither deal death or endure it.
"Vile coward!" shouted Orso.
The words were hardly out of his mouth when he saw the flash ofOrlanduccio's gun, and almost at the same instant a second shot rang outon his left from the other side of the path, fired by a man whom he hadnot noticed, and who was aiming at him from behind another wall. Bothbullets struck him. The first, Orlanduccio's, passed through his leftarm, which Orso had turned toward him as he aimed. The second shotstruck him in the chest, and tore his coat, but coming in contact withthe blade of his dagger, it luckily flattened against it, and onlyinflicted a trifling bruise. Orso's left arm fell helpless at his side,and the barrel of his gun dropped for a moment, but he raised it atonce, and aiming his weapon with his right hand only, he fired atOrlanduccio. His enemy's head, which was only exposed to the level ofthe eyes, disappeared behind the wall. Then Orso, swinging round to theleft, fired the second barrel at a man in a cloud of smoke whom he couldhardly see. This face likewise disappeared. The four shots had followedeach other with incredible swiftness; no trained soldiers ever firedtheir volleys in quicker succession. After Orso's last shot a greatsilence fell. The smoke from his weapon rose slowly up into the sky.There was not a movement, not the slightest sound from behind the wall.But for the pain in his arm, he could have fancied the men on whom hehad just fired had been phantoms of his own imagination.
Fully expecting a second volley, Orso moved a few steps, to placehimself behind one of the burned trees that still stood upright inthe _maquis_. Thus sheltered, he put his gun between his knees,and hurriedly reloaded it. Meanwhile his left arm began to hurt himhorribly, and felt as if it were being dragged down by a huge weight.
What had become of his adversaries? He could not understand. If they hadtaken to flight, if they had been wounded, he would certainly have heardsome noise, some stir among the leaves. Were they dead, then? Or, whatwas far more likely, were they not waiting behind their wall for achance of shooting at him again. In his uncertainty, and feeling hisstrength fast failing him, he knelt down on his right knee, restedhis wounded arm upon the other, and took advantage of a branch thatprotruded from the trunk of the burned tree to support his gun. With hisfinger on the trigger, his eye fixed on the wall, and his ear strainedto catch the slightest sound, he knelt there, motionless, for severalminutes, which seemed to him a century. At last, behind him, in the fardistance, he heard a faint shout, and very soon a dog flew like an arrowdown the slope, and stopped short, close to him, wagging its tail.It was Brusco, the comrade and follower of the bandits--the herald,doubtless, of his master's approach. Never was any
honest man moreimpatiently awaited. With his muzzle in the air, and turned toward thenearest fence, the dog sniffed anxiously. Suddenly he gave vent to a lowgrowl, sprang at a bound over the wall, and almost instantly reappearedupon its crest, whence he gazed steadily at Orso with eyes that spokesurprise as clearly as a dog's may do it. Then he sniffed again, thistime toward the other inclosure, the wall of which he also crossed.Within a second he was back on the top of that, with the same air ofastonishment and alarm, and straightway he bounded into the thicket withhis tail between his legs, still gazing at Orso, and retiring from himslowly, and sideways, until he had put some distance between them. Thenoff he started again, tearing up the slope almost as fast as he hadcome down it, to meet a man, who, in spite of its steepness, was rapidlydescending.
"Help, Brando!" shouted Orso, as soon as he thought he was withinhearing.
"Hallo! Ors' Anton'! are you wounded?" inquired Brandolaccio, as he ranup panting. "Is it in your body or your limbs?"
"In the arm."
"The arm--oh, that's nothing! And the other fellow?"
"I think I hit him."
Brandolaccio ran after the dog to the nearest field and leaned over tolook at the other side of the wall, then pulling off his cap--
"Signor Orlanduccio, I salute you!" said he, then turning toward Orso,he bowed to him, also, gravely.
"That," he remarked, "is what I call a man who has been properly donefor."
"Is he still alive?" asked Orso, who could hardly breathe.
"Oh! he wouldn't wish it! he'd be too much vexed about the bullet youput into his eye! Holy Madonna! What a hole! That's a good gun, upon mysoul! what a weight! That spatters a man's brains for you! Hark ye, Ors'Anton'! when I heard the first _piff, piff_, says I to myself: 'Dash it,they're murdering my lieutenant!' Then I heard _boum, boum_. 'Ha, ha!'says I, 'that's the English gun beginning to talk--he's firing back.'But what on earth do you want with me, Brusco?"
The dog guided him to the other field.
"Upon my word," cried Brandolaccio, utterly astonished, "a right andleft, that's what it is! Deuce take it! Clear enough, powder must bedear, for you don't waste it!"
"What do you mean, for God's sake?" asked Orso.
"Come, sir, don't try to humbug me; you bring down the dame, and thenyou want somebody to pick it up for you. Well! there's one man who'llhave a queer dessert to-day, and that's Lawyer Barricini!--you wantbutcher's meat, do you? Well, here you have it. Now, who the devil willbe the heir?"
"What! is Vincentello dead too?"
"Dead as mutton. _Salute a noi!_ The good point about you is that youdon't let them suffer. Just come over and look at Vincentello; he'skneeling here with his head against the wall, as if he were asleep. Youmay say he sleeps like lead, this time, poor devil."
Orso turned his head in horror.
"Are you certain he's dead?"
"You're like Sampiero Corso, who never had to fire more than once. Lookat it there, in his chest, on the left--just where Vincileone was hit atWaterloo. I'll wager that bullet isn't far from his heart--a right andleft! Ah! I'll never talk about shooting again. Two with two shots, andbullets at that! The two brothers! If he'd had a third shot he'd havekilled their papa. Better luck next time. What a shot! Ors' Anton'! Andto think that an honest poor chap like me will never get the chance of aright and a left two gendarmes!"
As he talked the bandit was scanning Orso's arm, and splitting up hissleeve with his dagger.
"This is nothing," said he. "But this coat of yours will give SignorinaColomba work to do. Ha! what's this I see? this gash upon your chest?Nothing went in there, surely? No! you wouldn't be so brisk as you are!Come, try to move your finger. Do you feel my teeth when I bite yourlittle finger? Not very well? Never mind! It won't be much. Let me takeyour handkerchief and your neckcloth. Well, your coat's spoilt, anyhow!What the devil did you make yourself so smart for? Were you going toa wedding? There! drink a drop of wine. Why on earth don't you carry aflask? Does any Corsican ever go out without a flask?"
Then again he broke off the dressing of the wound to exclaim:
"A right and left! Both of them stone dead! How the Padre will laugh! Aright and left! Oh, here's that little dawdle Chilina at last!"
Orso made no reply--he was as pale as death and shaking in every limb.
"Chili!" shouted Brandolaccio, "go and look behind that wall!"
The child, using both hands and feet, scrambled onto the wall, and themoment she caught sight of Orlanduccio's corpse she crossed herself.
"That's nothing," proceeded the bandit; "go and look farther on, overthere!"
The child crossed herself again.
"Was it you, uncle?" she asked timidly.
"Me! Don't you know I've turned into a useless old fellow! This, Chili,is the signor's work; offer him your compliments."
"The signorina will be greatly rejoiced," said Chilina, "and she will bevery much grieved to know you are wounded, Ors' Anton'."
"Now then, Ors' Anton'," said the bandit, when he had finished bindingup the wound. "Chilina, here, has caught your horse. You must get onhis back, and come with me to the Stazzona _maquis_. It would be a slyfellow who'd lay his hand on you there. When we get to the Cross ofSanta Christina, you'll have to dismount. You'll give over your horse toChilina, who'll go off and warn the signorina. You can say anything tothe child, Ors' Anton'. She would let herself be cut in pieces ratherthan betray her friends," and then, fondly, he turned to the littlegirl, "That's it, you little hussy; a ban on you, a curse on you--youjade!" For Brandolaccio, who was superstitious, like most bandits,feared he might cast a spell on a child if he blessed it or praised it,seeing it is a well-known fact that the mysterious powers that rule the_Annocchiatura_[*] have a vile habit of fulfilling our wishes in thevery opposite sense to that we give them.
[*] _Annocchiatura_, an involuntary spell cast either by the eye or by spoken words.
"Where am I to go, Brando?" queried Orso in a faint voice.
"Faith! you must choose; either to jail or to the _maquis_. But no dellaRebbia knows the path that leads him to the jail. To the _maquis_, Ors'Anton'."
"Farewell, then, to all my hopes!" exclaimed the wounded man, sadly.
"Your hopes? Deuce take it! Did you hope to do any better with adouble-barrelled gun? How on earth did the fellows contrive to hit you?The rascals must have been as hard to kill as cats."
"They fired first," said Orso.
"True, true; I'd forgotten that!--_piff, piff--boum, boum_! A right andleft, and only one hand! If any man can do better, I'll go hang myself.Come! now you're safely mounted! Before we start, just give a glanceat your work. It isn't civil to leave one's company without sayinggood-bye."
Orso spurred his horse. He would not have looked at the two poorwretches he had just destroyed, for anything on earth.
"Hark ye, Ors' Anton'," quoth the bandit, as he caught hold of thehorse's bridle, "shall I tell you the truth? Well, no offence to you!I'm sorry for those poor young fellows! You'll pardon me, I hope; sogood-looking, so strong, so young. Orlanduccio, I've shot with himso often! Only four days ago he gave me a bundle of cigars, andVincentello--he was always so cheery. Of course you've only done whatyou had to do, and indeed the shot was such a splendid one, nobody couldregret it. But I, you see, had nothing to do with your vengeance. I knowyou're perfectly in the right. When one has an enemy one must get rid ofhim. But the Barricini were an old family. Here's another of them wipedout, and by a right and left too! It's striking."
As he thus spoke his funeral oration over the Barricini, Brandolacciohastily guided Orso, Chilina, and Brusco, the dog, toward the Stazzona_maquis_.
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