MATHIAS SANDORF.
among the rocks of the straits of Bonifacio, that Andrea
Ferrato followed his trade as a fisherman.    Twenty veV.,
before he had married a young girl of Sartene.   Two years
afterward they  had  had a daughter who was christened
Maria.    Ihe fisherman's calling is a rough one  particu
larly when to the fishing for fish there is added the fishino"
for coral, which vyas to be sought for at the bottom of the
most dangerous channels in the strait.    But Andrea Fer
rato was bold, robust, indefatigable, as clever with the net
as with the trawl.    His business prospered.    His wife
active and  intelligent,  ruled the little   house  at Santa
Manza to perfection.    Both of them knew how to read
write, and calculate, and were fairly educated, if we com'
pare them with the 150,000 who can not write their names
which statistics now reveal to exist out of the 260 000 in
habitants of the island.                                         '
Besides—perhaps on account of this education—Andrea
Ferrato was very French in his ideas and feelings al-
though he Was of Italian origin, like the majority of'the
Corsicans. And at that time this had occasioned some
animosity against him.
The canton in fact, situated at the southern extremity
of the island, far from Bastia, far from Ajaccio, far from
the chief centers of administration, is at heart very much
opposed to everything that is not Italian or Sardinian—a
regrettable state of things that we hope to see the end of
as the rising generation becomes better educated.
Hence, as we have said, there was more or less latent
animosity against the Ferrates. In Corsica animosity and
hatred are not very far apart. Certain things occurred
which imbittered this animosity. One day Andrea
driven out of all patience, in a moment of anger, killed a
well-known vagabond who was threatening him, aud he
had to seek safety in flight.
But Andrea Ferrato was not at all the man to take ref-
uge in the maquis, to live a life of daily strife, as much
against the police as against the companions and friends
of the deceased, to perpetrate a series of revenges which
would end by reaching his own people. Besolving to ex-
patriate himself, he managed to leave Corsica secretly
and reached the Sardinian coast. When his wife had re-
alized their property, given up the house at Santa Manza,
sold the furniture, the boat and the nets, she crossed over
and joined him. They had given up their native land
forever.
But the murder, although it was justifiably committed
m self-defense, weighed on Andrea's conscience. With
the somewhat superstitious ideas due to his origin, he
greatly desired to ransom it. He had heard that a man's
death is never pardoned till the day when the murderer
saves another life at the risk of his" own. He made up
his mind to save a life as .soon as an occasion presented
itself.
Andrea did not remain long in Sardinia, where he
would easily have been recognized and discovered. Ener-
getic and brave—although he did not fear for himself, he
feared for those who belonged to him—he feared that the
reprisals of family on family might reach him. He merely
waited till he could go without exciting suspicion, and
then sailed for Italy, where, at Ancona, an opportunity
ottered for him to cross the Adriatic to the Istrian coast,
of which he availed himself.
And that is the story of why the Corsican had settled
at Kovigno. For seventeen year* he had followed his
trade as a fisherman, and had" become as well off as he
nad been. Nine years afterward a son was born to him,
Wo was named Luigi.    His birth cost his mother her
Andrea Ferrato now lived entirely for his daughter and
TSv?Yi   Maria> then aged eighteen, acted as mother to
we little boy of eight.    And except the deep and con-
stant grief for the loss of his wife, the fisherman of Eo-
>gno was as happy as he could be in  his work and  the
consciousness of having done his duty.    He was respected
"jroughout the district.    He was ever ready to help, and
«w advice was always valuable.    He was known to be
wVu at hls  trade-     Among tbe long ridges of rocks
*mcn guard the Istrian shore, he had no reason  to re-
|et the Gulf of Santa Manza or the Straits of Bonifacio.
e "ad become an excellent pilot in those parts where the
<me language is spoken as in Corsica.    From  his pilot-
ge ot the ships between Pola aud Trieste he earned al-
most as much as from his fishing.    And in his house the
2T
ofchàrhy. "^ f0rS°cten> and Maria ^d her best in works
But the fisherman of Santa Manza had never forgotten
lus vow-a hfe for a life!    He had taken one man'! life
He would save another's.
selyehs1tWhLV!rV' When the tw,° fn?itives Panted them-
penalty to wi?inr.gUeSS'ng Wh° '** Were> kuowi"g the
penalty to whicn  he was exposing Himself   ho  had   no.
tCKs   ?fV0theS' 'fComefn,"and -Klding 1 'h
thoughts,     And may Heaven protect us all!"
stop     SnT °i }n]T paSSed the do°1' a»d did  not
Z' afud°,Vî ai.,d Ba-thorJ could thus fa«cy they were
sate—at least for that night.                            J       y
The hut was built not in the town itself, but about five-
hundred yards from its walls, below the h aihor and1 on »'
ndge of rocks which commanded the beach Beyond at
less than a cable's length, was the sea breaking1 on the
he IZÎ Stl'e Cl.Lng ilWay t0 the distant I'orizon.Sward
' ' f^-west there jutted out the promontory whose
cumi shuts in.the small roadstead of Ëovigno
hit ï  W *         r0(T' two at the front and two at the
back, but   here was a lean-to of boards in which the fish!
Angdre, ^'^l^T ^ Such was «>• *™lingf
iin abon tX . ^*}Tfc WaS-a Nancellowith a square
forest I A thn.yUet }°?g> r'gged with a mainsail and
foiesail-a description of boat well adapted for trawling.
Ia f S T ?°i m USe She was nl001'ed inBide the rocks,
and a little boat drawn up on the beach was used in jour-
neying to and from her. Behind the house was an in-
closure of about half an acre, in which a few vegetables-
grew among the mulberry- and olive-trees and the vines.
A hedge separated it from a brook about six feet broad,
and beyond was the open country.
Such was this humble, but hospitable dwelling, to
which Providence had led the fugitives; such was the
host, who risked his liberty to give them shelter.
As soon as the door closed on them, Sandorf and
Bathory examined the room into which the fisherman had
welcomed them.
It was the principal room of the house, furnished in a
way that showed the taste and assiduity of a careful house-
keeper.
"First of all you want something to eat," said Andrea.
..¦_*    ?' Te are àJln% with hunger!" answered Sandorf.
.bor twelve hours we have had no food."
"You understand, Maria."
And in a minute Maria had put on the table some salt
pork, some boiled fish, a flask of the local wine of the dry
grape, with two glasses, two plates, and a white table-
cloth. A "veghone," a sort of lamp with three wicks,
ted with oil, gave light in the room.
Stndorf and Bathory sat down to the table; thev were
quite exhausted.
" But yon?" said they to the fisherman.
<< We have had our meal," answered Andrea.
The two famished men devoured—that is the proper
word—the provisions which were offered with such sim-
plicity and heartiness.
But, as they ate, they kept their eves on the fisherman,
his daughter and his son, who sat in a corner of the room
and looked at them hack, without saying a word. Andrea
was then about forty-two, a man of severe expression, even
a Tittle sorrowful, with expressive features, a sunburnt
face, black eyes and a keen look. He wore the dress of
the fishermen of the Adriatic, and was evidently of
active, powerful build.
Maria—whose face and figure recalled her mother—was
tall, graceful, pretty rather than handsome, with bright,
black eyes, brown hair, and a complexion lightly tinted
by the vivacity of her Corsican blood. Serious by reason
of the duties she had fulfilled from her childhood, having
in her attitude and movements the serenity a reflective-
nature gives, everything about her showed an energy that
would never fail, no matter in what circumstances she
might be placed. Many times she had been sought in
marriage by the young fishermen of the country, but in
vain. Did not all her life belong to her father and the
child who was so dear to him?
That boy Luigi was already an experienced sailor—hard-
working, brave, and resolute. Bareheaded in wind and
rain, he accompanied Andrea in his fishing and piloting.
Later on he promised to be a vigorous man, well trained
and well built, more than bold, even audacious, ready for