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Updated: June 15, 2025
Instead of the handsome buildings observable on every side from Castellamare to Cape Misena, nothing is to be seen in the neighbourhood of the Gulf of Ajaccio but gloomy maquis with bare mountains rising behind them. Not a villa, not a dwelling of any kind only here and there, on the heights about the town, a few isolated white structures stand out against a background of green.
The old Moulin de la Galette has cast aside its city airs and taken on a most rural aspect, while the maquis, or jungle on whose site a whole new white stone quarter had been projected, is now but a mass of half finished, abandoned foundations, wherein the children of the entire neighbourhood gather to play at the only game which now has a vogue, i.e., "War." La petite guerre they call it.
My name is Orso della Rebbia; I am a lieutenant on half-pay; and if, as the sight of those two fine dogs of yours leads me to believe, you are coming to Corsica to hunt, I shall be very proud to do you the honours of our mountains and our maquis if, indeed, I have not forgotten them altogether!" he added, with a sigh.
Terrified by the firing, checked at every step by the thick growth of the maquis, Miss Nevil had soon lost sight of the fugitives, and been left all alone in a state of the most cruel alarm. "She has been left behind," said Brandolaccio, "but she'll not be lost women always turn up again.
You know very well that here, in the middle of the maquis, and with your bandits all about me, I should never dare to be angry with you." Orso made an attempt to kiss the hand that held out the talisman. Miss Lydia drew it quickly back; he lost his balance, and fell on his wounded arm. He could not stifle a moan of pain.
"I should tell them," the child replied, at once, "that I was taking food to the men from Lucca who were cutting down the maquis." "And if you came across some hungry hunter who insisted on dining at your expense, and took your provisions away from you?" "Nobody would dare! I would say they are for my uncle!"
It is this kind of tangled thicket that is called a mâquis. They are made up of different kinds of trees and shrubs, so crowded and mingled together at the caprice of nature that only with an axe in hand can a man open a passage through them, and mâquis are frequently seen so thick and bushy that the wild sheep themselves cannot penetrate them.
Thus tossed by conflicting feelings, he continued his progress, though now he carefully scrutinized every thicket and hedge, and sometimes even pulled up his horse to listen to the vague sounds to be heard in any open country. The road, or rather the very slight path, which he was following, ran through a maquis that had been lately burned.
This was our old acquaintance Brusco, who recognised Colomba at once and undertook to be her guide. After many windings through the narrow paths in the maquis they were met by two men, armed to the teeth. "Is that you, Brandolaccio?" inquired Colomba. "Where is my brother?" "Just over there," replied the bandit. "But go quietly. He's asleep, and for the first time since his accident.
The sight of a burned maquis is enough to make a man fancy he has been transported into midwinter in some northern clime, and the contrast between the barrenness of the ground over which the flames have passed, with the luxuriant vegetation round about it, heightens this appearance of sadness and desolation.
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