"Yes， and a great many of them have stayed in Spain，" replied the young lieutenant gravely.
"I shall never forget the behaviour of a Corsican battalion at the Battle of Vittoria，" said the colonel； "I have good reason to remember it， indeed，" he added， rubbing his chest. "All day long they had been skirmishing in the gardens， behind the hedges， and had killed I don't know how many of our horses and men. When the retreat was sounded， they rallied and made off at a great pace. We had hoped to take our revenge on them in the open plain， but the scoundrels--I beg your pardon， lieutenant； the brave fellows， I should have said--had formed a square， and there was no breaking it. In the middle of the square--I fancy I can see him still--rode an officer on a little black horse. He kept close beside the standard， smoking his cigar as coolly as if he had been in a café. Every now and then their bugles played a flourish， as if to defy us. I sent my two leading squadrons at them. Whew！
Instead of breaking the front of the square， my dragoons passed along the sides， wheeled， and came back in great disorder， and with several riderless horses--and all the time those cursed bugles went on playing. When the smoke which had hung over the battalion cleared away， I saw the officer still puffing at his cigar beside his eagle. I was furious， and led a final charge myself. Their muskets， foul with continual firing， would not go off， but the men had drawn up， six deep， with their bayonets pointed at the noses of our horses； you might have taken them for a wall. I was shouting， urging on my dragoons， and spurring my horse forward， when the officer I have mentioned， at length throwing away his cigar， pointed me out to one of his men， and I heard him say something like /"Al capello bianco！"/--I wore a white plume. Then I did not hear any more， for a bullet passed through my chest. That was a splendid battalion， M. della Rebbia， that first battalion of the Eighteenth--all of them Corsicans， as I was afterward told！"
"Yes，" said Orso， whose eyes had shone as he listened to the story.
"They covered the retreat， and brought back their eagle. Two thirds of those brave fellows are sleeping now on the plains of Vittoria！"
"And， perhaps， you can tell me the name of the officer in command？"
"It was my father--he was then a major in the Eighteenth， and was promoted colonel for his conduct on that terrible day."
"Your father！ Upon my word， he was a brave man！ I should be glad to see him again， and I am certain I should recognise him. Is he still alive？"
"No， colonel，" said the young man， turning slightly pale.
"Was he at Waterloo？"
"Yes， colonel； but he had not the happiness of dying on the field of battle. He died in Corsica two years ago. How beautiful the sea is！ It is ten years since I have seen the Mediterranean！ Don't you think the Mediterranean much more beautiful than the ocean， mademoiselle？"
"I think it too blue， and its waves lack grandeur."
"You like wild beauty then， mademoiselle！ In that case， I am sure you will be delighted with Corsica."
"My daughter，" said the colonel， "delights in everything that is out of the common， and for that reason she did not care much for Italy."
"The only place in Italy that I know，" said Orso， "is Pisa， where I was at school for some time. But I can not think， without admiration， of the Campo-Santo， the Duomo， and the Leaning Tower--especially of the Campo-Santo. Do you remember Orcagna's 'Death'？ I think I could draw every line of it--it is so graven on my memory."
Miss Lydia was afraid the lieutenant was going to deliver an enthusiastic tirade.
"It is very pretty，" she said， with a yawn. "Excuse me， papa， my head aches a little； I am going down to my cabin."
She kissed her father on the forehead， inclined her head majestically to Orso， and disappeared. Then the two men talked about hunting and war. They discovered that at Waterloo they had been posted opposite each other， and had no doubt exchanged many a bullet. This knowledge strengthened their good understanding. Turning about， they criticised Napoleon， Wellington， and Blucher， and then they hunted buck， boar， and mountain sheep in company. At last， when night was far advanced， and the last bottle of claret had been emptied， the colonel wrung the lieutenant's hand once more and wished him good-night， expressing his hope that an acquaintance， which had begun in such ridiculous fashion， might be continued. They parted， and each went to bed.
