"So ended this brief reign: and you, Prosper, have met the chief actor in it. A very few words will tell the rest. The French overran the island until '41, when the business of the Austrian succession forced them to withdraw their troops and leave the Genoese once more face to face with the islanders. Promptly these rose again. Giafferi and Hyacinth Paoli had fled to Naples; Hyacinth with two sons, Pascal and Clement, whom he trained there (as I am told) in all the liberal arts and in undying hatred of the Genoese. These two lads, returning to the island, took up their father's fight and have maintained it, with fair success as I learn. From parts of the island they must have completely extruded the enemy for a while; since my lady made bold, four years ago, to settle these visitors of ours in her palace above the Taravo. It would appear, however, that the Genoese have gathered head again, and his business with them may explain why Pascal Paoli has not answered the letter I addressed to him, these eight months since, notifying my son's claim upon the succession. Or he may have reckoned it indecent of me to address him in lieu of his Queen, who had returned to the island. I had not heard of her return. I heard of it to-day for the first time, and of her peril, which shall hurry us ten times faster than our pretensions. Prosper," my father concluded, "we must invade Corsica, and at once." "Good Lord!" exclaimed my uncle. "How!" "In a ship," my father answered him as simply. "How otherwise?" Said my uncle, "But where is your ship?" Answered my father, "If you will but step outside and pick up one of these fir-cones in the grass, you can almost toss it on to her deck. She is called the _Gauntlet_, and her skipper is Captain Jo Pomery. I might have racked my brain for a month to find such a skipper or a ship so well found and happily named as this which Providence has brought to my door. I attach particular importance to the name of a ship." 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.