My uncle ran his hands through his hair.  “But to invade a kingdom,” he protested, “you will need also an army!”

“Certainly.  I must find one.”

“But where?”

“It must be somewhere in the neighbourhood, and within twenty-four hours,” replied my father imperturbably.  “Time presses.”

“But an army must be paid.  You have not only to raise one, but to find the money to support it.”

“You put me in mind of an old German tale,” said my father, helping himself to wine.  “Once upon a time there were three brothers—­but since, my dear Gervase, you show signs of impatience, I will confine myself to the last and luckiest one.  On his travels, which I will not pause to describe in detail, he acquired three gifts—­a knapsack which, when opened, discharged a regiment of grenadiers; a cloth which, when spread, was covered with a meal; and a purse which, when shaken, filled itself with money.”

“Will you be serious, brother?” cried my uncle.

“I am entirely serious!” answered my father.  “The problem of an army and its pay I propose to solve by enlisting volunteers; and the difficulty of feeding my troops (I had forgotten it and thank you for reminding me) will be minimized by enlisting as few as possible.  Myself and Prosper make two; Priske, here, three; I would fain have you accompany us, Gervase, but the estate cannot spare you.  Let me see—­” He drummed for a moment on the table with his fingers.  “We ought to have four more at least, to make a show:  and seven is a lucky number.”

“You seriously design,” my uncle demanded, “to invade the island of Corsica with an army of seven persons?”

“Most seriously I do.  For consider.  To begin with, this Theodore—­ a vain hollow man—­brought but sixteen, including many non-combatants, and yet succeeded in winning a crown.  You will allow that to win a crown is a harder feat than to succeed to one.  On what reckoning then, or by what Rule-of-Three sum, should Prosper, who goes to claim what already belongs to him, need more than seven?

“Further,” my father continued, “it may well be argued that the fewer he takes the better; since we sail not against the Corsicans but against their foes, and therefore should count on finding in every Corsican a soldier for our standard.

“Thirdly, the Corsicans are a touchy race, whom it would be impolitic to offend with a show of foreign strength.

“Fourthly, we must look a little beyond the immediate enterprise, and not (if we can help it) saddle Prosper’s kingdom with a standing army.  For, as Bacon advises, that state stands in danger whose warriors remain in a body and are used to donatives; whereof we see examples in the turk’s Janissaries and the Pretorian Bands of Rome.

“And fifthly, we have neither the time nor the money to collect a stronger force.  The occasion presses:  and fronte capillata est, post haec Occasio calva.  Time turns a bald head to us if we miss our moment to catch him by the forelock.”