The colonel slipped his hand into his pocket, and tried to think of some civil phrase with which he might slip the gold coin he was fingering into the palm of his unfortunate enemy.

“And I too,” he said good-humouredly, “have been put on half-pay, but your half-pay can hardly give you enough to buy tobacco!  Here, corporal!” and he tried to force the gold coin into the young man’s closed hand, which rested on the gunwale of the gig.

The young Corsican reddened, drew himself up, bit his lips, and seemed, for a moment, on the brink of some angry reply.  Then suddenly his expression changed and he burst out laughing.  The colonel, grasping his gold piece still in his hand, sat staring at him.

“Colonel,” said the young man, when he had recovered his gravity, “allow me to offer you two pieces of advice—­the first is never to offer money to a Corsican, for some of my fellow-countrymen would be rude enough to throw it back in your face; the second is not to give people titles they do not claim.  You call me ‘corporal,’ and I am a lieutenant—­the difference is not very great, no doubt, still——­”

“Lieutenant!  Lieutenant!” exclaimed Sir Thomas.  “But the skipper told me you were a corporal, and that your father and all your family had been corporals before you!”

At these words the young man threw himself back and laughed louder than ever, so merrily that the skipper and his two sailors joined the chorus.

“Forgive me, colonel!” he cried at last.  “The mistake is so comical, and I have only just realized it.  It is quite true that my family glories in the fact that it can reckon many corporals among its ancestors—­but our Corsican corporals never wore stripes upon their sleeves!  Toward the year of grace 1100 certain villages revolted against the tyranny of the great mountain nobles, and chose leaders of their own, whom they called corporals.  In our island we think a great deal of being descended from these tribunes.”

“I beg your pardon, sir,” exclaimed the colonel, “I beg your pardon a thousand times!  As you understand the cause of my mistake, I hope you will do me the kindness of forgiving it!” and he held out his hand.

“It is the just punishment of my petty pride,” said the young man, still laughing, and cordially shaking the Englishman’s hand.  “I am not at all offended.  As my friend Mattei has introduced me so unsuccessfully, allow me to introduce myself.  My name is Orso della Rebbia; I am a lieutenant on half-pay; and if, as the sight of those two fine dogs of yours leads me to believe, you are coming to Corsica to hunt, I shall be very proud to do you the honours of our mountains and our maquis—­if, indeed, I have not forgotten them altogether!” he added, with a sigh.