Part 11 (1/2)
”I was suddenly awakened by three violent blows upon the door of the chamber; I got out of bed and walked across the floor to open it.
”'Where are you going?' asked my cousin.
”She had herself been awakened by the noise, but could not overcome her terror, knowing very well that as the front door was fastened no one would be likely to come to the room in which we were sleeping.
”'I am going to open the door to my father, who has come to bid me adieu,' I replied.
”It was then she jumped out of bed and insisted upon my lying down again. I cried for a long time and very bitterly, saying, 'Papa is at the door, and I want to see papa again before he goes away for ever.'”
”And has the apparition ever returned since?” asked Lucien.
”No, although I have often called upon it; but, perhaps, Providence permitted to the innocence and purity of the child what it declines to accord to the sinfulness of the man.”
”Well, then,” said Lucien smiling, ”in our family we are more fortunate than you.”
”Then you are enabled to see your deceased parents?”
”Yes, always when any great event is about to happen or has been accomplished.”
”And to what do you attribute this privilege?”
”I will tell you the tradition that has been handed down. You remember that I told you that Savilia died leaving two sons.”
”Yes, I recollect.”
”Well, these children grew up concentrating on each other the affection they would have bestowed on other relatives had any been alive. They swore nothing should separate them, not even death, and after some incantation or other they wrote with their blood on two pieces of parchment, which they exchanged, the reciprocal oath that whichever died first should appear to the other at the moment of his own death, and, subsequently, at every important epoch of his brother's life. Three months afterwards one of the two brothers was killed in an ambuscade at the moment when the survivor was sealing a letter addressed to him. Just as he was pressing the signet upon the burning wax he heard a sigh behind him, and, turning round, perceived his brother standing behind him, and touching his shoulder, although he felt no pressure from the hand. Then, by a mechanical movement, he held out the letter that was destined for his brother, the spirit took the letter and disappeared. On the night before the survivor's death, the ghost appeared again.
”There is no doubt that the brothers not only made this engagement for themselves, but it applies also to their descendants, for spirits have appeared not only at the moment of the death of those who had pa.s.sed away, but also on the eve of any great event in their lives.”
”And have you never seen any apparition?”
”No; but like my father, who, during the night preceding his death, was warned by his father that he was about to die, so I presume my brother and I inherit the privilege of our ancestors, not having done anything to forfeit it.”
”And is this privilege accorded to the males of the family only?”
”Yes.”
”That is strange.”
”It is as I say.”
I looked at the young man as he was speaking to me. He was cool, calm, and grave, and I could not help repeating with Hamlet--
”There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, Than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”
In Paris I should have thought that this young man was hoaxing me; but here in Corsica, in a little unknown village, one must look upon him either as a foolish person endeavouring to deceive one for his own purposes, or as a privileged being amongst other men.
”And now,” he said, after a long silence, ”are you satisfied?”