Madame de Franchi smiled sadly, and said, "The absent are in the hands of God, the great point is that you are certain that he is alive." "Yes," replied Lucien, calmly, "for if he were dead I should have seen him." "And you would have told me, would you not, my son?" "Oh, of course, mother, at once." "I am satisfied. Excuse me, monsieur," she continued, turning to me, "I trust you will pardon my maternal anxiety. Not only are Louis and Lucien my sons, but they are the last of their race. Will you please take the chair at my right hand? Lucien, sit here." She indicated to the young man the vacant place at her left hand. We seated ourselves at the extremity of a long table, at the opposite end of which were laid six other covers, destined for those who in Corsica are called the family; that is to say, the people who in large establishments occupy a position between the master and the servants. The table was abundantly supplied with good cheer. But I confess that although at the moment blessed with a very good appetite, I contented myself with eating and drinking as it were mechanically, for my senses were not in any way attracted by the pleasures of the table. For, indeed, it appeared to me that I had entered into a strange world when I came into that house, and that I was now living in a dream. Who could this woman be who was accustomed to carry a carbine like a soldier? What sort of person could this brother be, who felt the same grief that his brother experienced at a distance of three hundred leagues? What sort of mother could this be who made her son declare that if he saw the spirit of his dead brother he would tell her at once? These were the questions that perplexed me, and it will be readily understood they gave me ample food for thought. However, feeling that continual silence was not polite, I made an effort to collect my ideas. I looked up. The mother and son at the same instant perceived that I wished to enter into conversation. "So," said Lucien to me, as if he were continuing his remarks, "so you made up your mind to come to Corsica?" "Yes, as you see, I had for a long time had a desire to do so, and at last I have accomplished it." "_Ma foi!_ you have done well not to delay your visit; for with the successive encroachments of French tastes and manners those who come to look for Corsica in a few years will not find it." "However," I replied, "if the ancient national spirit retires before civilization and takes refuge in any corner of the island, it certainly will be in the province of Sartène, and in the valley of the Tavaro." "Do you think so, really?" said the young man, smiling. "Yes, and it appears to me that here at the present moment there is a beautiful and noble tablet of ancient Corsican manners."