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The Corsican Brothers

      “The Corsican Brothers” is one of the most famous of Dumas’
     shorter stories.  It was published in 1845, when the author was
     at the height of his powers, and is remarkable not only for
     its strong dramatic interest, but for its famous account of
     old Corsican manners and customs, being inspired by a visit to
     Corsica in 1834.  The scenery of the island, and the life of
     the inhabitants, the survival of the vendetta, and the fierce
     family feuds, all made strong appeal to his imaginative mind. 
     Several versions of the story have been dramatised for the
     English stage, and as a play “The Corsican Brothers” has
     enjoyed a long popularity; but Dumas himself, who was fond of
     adapting his works to the stage, never dramatised this story.

I.—­The Twins

I was travelling in Corsica early in March 1841.  Corsica is a French department, but it is by no means French, and Italian is the language commonly spoken.  It is free from robbers, but it is still the land of the vendetta, and the province of Sartene, wherein I was travelling, is the home of family feuds, which last for years and are always accompanied by loss of life.

I was travelling alone across the island, but I had been obliged to take a guide; and when at five o’clock we halted on a hill overlooking the village of Sullacro, my guide asked me where I would like to stay for the night.  There were, perhaps, one hundred and twenty houses in Sullacro for me to choose from, so after looking out carefully for the one that promised the most comfort, I decided in favour of a strong, fortified, squarely-built house.

“Certainly,” said my guide.  “That is the house of Madame Savilia de Franchi.  Your honour has chosen wisely.”

I was a little uncertain whether it was quite the right thing for me to seek hospitality at a house belonging to a lady, for, being only thirty-six, I considered myself a young man.  But I found it quite impossible to make my guide understand my feelings.  The notion that my staying a night could give occasion for gossip concerning my hostess, or that it made any difference whether I was old or young, was unintelligible to a Corsican.

Madame Savilia, I learnt from the guide, was about forty, and had two sons—­twins—­twenty-one years old.  One lived with his mother, and was a Corsican; the other was in Paris, preparing to be a lawyer.

We soon arrived at the house we sought.  My guide knocked vigorously at the door, which was promptly opened by a man in velvet waistcoat and breeches and leather gaiters.  I explained that I sought hospitality, and was answered in return that the house was honoured by my request.  My luggage was carried off, and I entered.

In the corridor a beautiful woman, tall, and dressed in black, met me.  She bade me welcome, and promised me that of her son, telling me that the house was at my service.