Corsica (France) -- History -- 19th century -- Fiction; Murder -- Fiction; Revenge -- Fiction; Vendetta -- Fiction
“Mercy!” he cried in a hoarse voice. “Mercy! Are you not content? The
leaf I burned. How did you read it? But why did you take them both?
Orlanduccio! You can’t have read anything against him! You should have
left me one, only one! Orlanduccio--you didn’t read _his_ name!”
“I had to have them both!” answered Colomba, speaking low and in the
Corsican dialect. “The branches are topped off! If the stem had not been
rotten, I would have torn it up! Come! make no moan. You will not suffer
long! _I_ suffered for two years!”
The old man cried out, and then his head dropped on his breast. Colomba
turned her back on him, and went slowly into the house, humming some
meaningless lines out of a _ballata_:
“I must have the hand
that fired, the eye that aimed, the heart
that planned.”
While the farmer’s wife ran to attend on the old man, Colomba, with
blazing eyes and brilliant cheeks, sat down to luncheon opposite the
colonel.
“What’s the matter with you?” he said. “You look just as you did that
day at Pietranera, when they fired at us while we were at dinner.”
“Old Corsican memories had come back to me. But all that’s done with.
I shall be godmother, sha’n’t I? Oh! what fine names I’ll give him!
Ghilfuccio--Tomaso--Orso--Leone!”
The farmer’s wife came back into the room.
“Well?” inquired Colomba, with the most perfect composure. “Is he dead,
or had he only fainted?”
“It was nothing, signorina. But it’s curious what an effect the sight of
you had on him.”
“And the doctor says he won’t last long?”
“Not two months, very likely.”
“He’ll be no great loss!” remarked Colomba.
“What the devil are you talking about?” inquired the colonel.
“About an idiot from my own country, who is boarded out here. I’ll send
from time to time to find out how he is. Why, Colonel Nevil, aren’t you
going to leave any strawberries for Lydia and my brother?”
When Colomba left the farm-house and got into the carriage, the farmer’s
wife looked after her for a while. Then, turning to her daughter:
“Dost see that pretty young lady yonder?” she said. “Well, I’m certain
she has the evil eye!”
End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Columba, by Prosper Merimee
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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