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Updated: June 19, 2025
Marc'antonio answered all their guileless questions by giving out that we were two roving commissioners travelling northward to delimit certain pievi in the Nebbio, at the foot of Cape Corso an explanation which secured for us the best of victuals as well as the highest respect.
"I have something to confess to you." Her voice dragged upon the words; but she went on, "You have not asked me what has happened in Genoa after that night. The snow covered up our footmarks and the blood for you were bleeding all the way; but at our lodgings the actors were frightened out of their wits, and worse than ever when I told them what had happened to Marc'antonio and Stephanu.
But here Marc'antonio shook his head vigorously. "Whoever told your father that, told him an untruth. The Queen fled from Porto Vecchio in that same winter of 'thirty-nine, a few days before Christmas. I myself steered the boat that carried her." "To be sure," said I, "my father may have had his information from King Theodore."
It is truth, then, that we are married. The priest who married us was Fra Domenico, and with assent of his master the Prince Camillo. I can give you, moreover, the name of the chief witness: he is a certain Signor or General Andrea Fornari, and commands the Genoese garrison in Nonza." "Princess!" Marc'antonio implored her. "It is true," said she.
Dom Basilio recited the funeral service; and there, watched by his comrades from the quay, we let sink my father into six fathoms, to sleep at the foot of the great rock which had been his altar. As I landed and climbed the path again, I caught sight of Camilla, standing by the parapet of the east bastion, in converse with Marc'antonio and Stephanu.
Of late years, however, owing to the unsettled state of politics, the shepherds pastured not half the numbers of sheep that Marc'antonio remembered in his youth, and by consequence the deer had multiplied and grown bolder. He could promise me a stag.
The newcomers, having satisfied their hunger, did likewise. Stephanu gave the great pot a stir, unhitched it from the brandice, and bore it away, leaving the Princess and Marc'antonio the only two wakeful ones beside the fire. They were smarting, too, from the smoke of the burnt wood.
I had been dozing or maybe was wandering in slight delirium when this question wrote itself across my dreams in letters of fire, so bright that it cleared and lit up my brain in a flash, chasing away all other terrors. . . . Mercifully, it was soon answered. Far up the glade a horn sounded my swine-horn, blown no doubt by Marc'antonio.
The stranger a fishmonger's runner turned as he met us and trotted alongside, shaping his hands like a trumpet and bawling down his price. By this time two other traffickers had joined the contest, and with scarcely a word on his side Marc'antonio kept them going, as a juggler plays with three balls.
"Nor will I deny, cavalier," he added, "that he seems to me an honest patriot and a wise one. They say he seeks the Crown, however." "Well, and why not?" I demanded. "If he can unite Corsica and win her freedom, does he not deserve to be her king?" Marc'antonio shook his head. "Would your Prince Camillo make a better one?" I urged. "It is a question of right, cavalier.
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