"You are free to do as you please, sir; but I hope that you will change your mind, and that we shall have the honour of your company for a longer period." I bowed again, and Madame continued-- "Maria, show this gentleman to my son Louis' chamber; light the fire at once, and carry up some hot water. You will excuse me," she said, turning again to me as the servant departed, "but I always fancy that the first wants of a tired traveller are warm water and a fire. Will you please to follow my maid, sir; and you need have no hesitation in asking her for anything you may require. We shall sup in an hour, and my son, who will be home by that time, will have the honour to wait upon you." "I trust you will excuse my travelling dress, madame." "Yes, sir," she replied smiling; "but on condition that you, on your part, will excuse the rusticity of your reception." I bowed my thanks, and followed the servant upstairs. The room was situated on the first floor, and looked out towards the rear of the house, upon a pretty and extensive garden, well planted with various trees, and watered by a charming little stream, which fell into the Tavaro. At the further end the prospect was bounded by a hedge, so thick as to appear like a wall. As is the case in almost all Italian houses, the walls of the rooms were white-washed and frescoed. I understood immediately that Madame de Franchi had given me this, her absent son's chamber, because it was the most comfortable one in the house. While Maria was lighting the fire and fetching the hot water, I took it into my head to make an inventory of the room, and try to arrive at an estimation of the character of its usual occupant by those means. I immediately put this idea into execution, and beginning with the left hand, I took mental notes of the various objects by which I was surrounded. The furniture all appeared to be modern, a circumstance which in that part of the island, where civilization had not then taken deep root, appeared to indicate no inconsiderable degree of luxury. It was composed of an iron bedstead and bedding, a sofa, four arm-chairs, six other occasional chairs, a wardrobe, half book case and half bureau, all of mahogany, from the first cabinet maker in Ajaccio. The sofas and chairs were covered with chintz, and curtains of similar material fell before the windows, and hung round the bed. I had got so far with my inventory when Maria left the room, and I was enabled to push my investigation a little closer. I opened the book-case, and found within a collection of the works of our greatest poets. I noticed Corneille, Racine, Molière, La Fontaine, Ronsard, Victor Hugo, and Lamartine. Our moralists--Montaigne, Pascal, Labruyère. Our historians--Mezeray, Chateaubriand, Augustin Thierry. Our philosophers--Cuvier, Beudant, Elie de Beaumont. Besides these there were several volumes of romances and other books, amongst which I recognized, with a certain pride, my own "Impression of Travel."