"Well, this is the explanation: Of the family of Guidice there remained, in 1819, only two brothers. Of the de Franchi family there remained only my father, who had married his cousin. Three months after that the Guidice determined to exterminate us with one stroke. One of the brothers concealed himself on the road to Olmedo to await my father's coming home to Sartène--while the other, taking advantage of his absence, determined to attack our house. This plan was carried out, but with a different result to what had been anticipated. My father, being warned of the plot, was on his guard; my mother, who had also got a hint of the affair, assembled the shepherds, &c., so that when the attack was made the intended victims were prepared for it--my father on the mountains, my mother in the mansion. The consequence was that the two Guidici fell, one shot by my father, the other by my mother. On seeing his foe fall, my father drew out his watch and saw it was eleven o'clock. When my mother shot her assailant she turned to the timepiece and noticed that it was also eleven o'clock. The whole thing had taken place exactly at the same moment. There were no more Guidici left, the family was extinct, and our victorious family is now left in peace; and considering we carried on a war for four hundred years, we didn't want to meddle with it any more. My father had the dates engraved upon the carbines, and hung the pieces up on each side of the clock, as you saw. Seven months later my mother gave birth to twins, of whom one is your very humble servant, the Corsican Lucien; the other, the philanthropist, Louis, his brother." As he ceased speaking, I noticed a shadow of a man accompanied by a dog projected in the doorway. The shadows were those of the bandit Orlandi and his friend Diamond. At that moment the village clock of Sullacaro was heard striking nine with measured strokes. Evidently the Orlandi was of Louis XV.'s opinion, that punctuality is the politeness of kings! It would have been impossible to have been more exact than was that king of the mountain, with whom Lucien had appointed a meeting at nine o'clock. We both rose from our reclining posture when we saw the bandit approaching. CHAPTER VIII. "YOU are not alone, Monsieur Lucien," said the bandit. "Do not let that disturb you, Orlandi. This gentleman is a friend of mine, who has heard me speak of you, and wished to pay you a visit. I could not think of refusing him that pleasure." "Monsieur is welcome to the country," said the bandit, bowing as he advanced towards us. I returned his salute with the most punctilious politeness. "You must have been waiting here some time," continued Orlandi. "Yes, about twenty minutes." "Quite so. I heard Diamond howling at Mucchio, and he has been with me quite a quarter of an hour since then; he is a good and faithful dog, is he not, Monsieur Lucien?" "Yes, indeed he is, Orlandi," replied Lucien, as he patted the animal.