"Mademoiselle," he said, "do you know that there are moments when the
instincts of my country wake up within me. Sometimes, when I think of
my poor father, horrible thoughts assail me. Thanks to you, I am rid of
them forever. Thank you! thank you!"
He would have continued, but Miss Lydia dropped a teaspoon, and the
noise woke up the colonel.
"Della Rebbia, we'll start at five o'clock to-morrow morning. Be
punctual!"
"Yes, colonel."
CHAPTER V
The next day, a short time before the sportsmen came back, Miss Nevil,
returning with her maid from a walk along the seashore, was just about
to enter the inn, when she noticed a young woman, dressed in black,
riding into the town on a small but strong horse. She was followed by a
sort of peasant, also on horseback, who wore a brown cloth jacket cut at
the elbows. A gourd was slung over his shoulder and a pistol was hanging
at his belt, his hand grasped a gun, the butt of which rested in a
leathern pocket fastened to his saddle-bow--in short, he wore the
complete costume of a brigand in a melodrama, or of the middle-class
Corsican on his travels. Miss Nevil's attention was first attracted by
the woman's remarkable beauty.
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