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Vendetta



by　Honore　de　Balzac



Translated　by　Katharine　Prescott　Wormeley







DEDICATION



To　Puttinati；　Milanese　Sculptor。











VENDETTA









CHAPTER　I



PROLOGUE



In　the　year　1800；　toward　the　close　of　October；　a　foreigner；

accompanied　by　a　woman　and　a　little　girl；　was　standing　for　a　long　time

in　front　of　the　palace　of　the　Tuileries；　near　the　ruins　of　a　house

recently　pulled　down；　at　the　point　where　in　our　day　the　wing　begins

which　was　intended　to　unite　the　chateau　of　Catherine　de　Medici　with

the　Louvre　of　the　Valois。



The　man　stood　there　with　folded　arms　and　a　bowed　head；　which　he

sometimes　raised　to　look　alternately　at　the　consular　palace　and　at　his

wife；　who　was　sitting　near　him　on　a　stone。　Though　the　woman　seemed

wholly　occupied　with　the　little　girl　of　nine　or　ten　years　of　age；

whose　long　black　hair　she　amused　herself　by　handling；　she　lost　not　a

single　glance　of　those　her　companion　cast　on　her。　Some　sentiment　other

than　love　united　these　two　beings；　and　inspired　with　mutual　anxiety

their　movements　and　their　thoughts。　Misery　is；　perhaps；　the　most

powerful　of　all　ties。



The　stranger　had　one　of　those　broad；　serious　heads；　covered　with　thick

hair；　which　we　see　so　frequently　in　the　pictures　of　the　Caracci。　The

jet　black　of　the　hair　was　streaked　with　white。　Though　noble　and　proud；

his　features　had　a　hardness　which　spoiled　them。　In　spite　of　his

evident　strength；　and　his　straight；　erect　figure；　he　looked　to　be　over

sixty　years　of　age。　His　dilapidated　clothes　were　those　of　a　foreign

country。　Though　the　faded　and　once　beautiful　face　of　the　wife　betrayed

the　deepest　sadness；　she　forced　herself　to　smile；　assuming　a　calm

countenance　whenever　her　husband　looked　at　her。



The　little　girl　was　standing；　though　signs　of　weariness　were　on　the

youthful　face；　which　was　tanned　by　the　sun。　She　had　an　Italian　cast　of

countenance　and　bearing；　large　black　eyes　beneath　their　well　arched

brows；　a　native　nobleness；　and　candid　grace。　More　than　one　of　those

who　passed　them　felt　strongly　moved　by　the　mere　aspect　of　this　group；

who　made　no　effort　to　conceal　a　despair　which　seemed　as　deep　as　the

expression　of　it　was　simple。　But　the　flow　of　this　fugitive　sympathy；

characteristic　of　Parisians；　was　dried　immediately；　for　as　soon　as　the

stranger　saw　himself　the　object　of　attention；　he　looked　at　his

observer　with　so　savage　an　air　that　the　boldest　lounger　hurried　his

step　as　though　he　had　trod　upon　a　serpent。



After　standing　for　some　time　undecided；　the　tall　stranger　suddenly

passed　his　hand　across　his　face　to　brush　away；　as　it　were；　the

thoughts　that　were　ploughing　furrows　in　it。　He　must　have　taken　some

desperate　resolution。　Casting　a　glance　upon　his　wife　and　daughter；　he

drew　a　dagger　from　his　breast　and　gave　it　to　his　companion；　saying　in

Italian：



〃I　will　see　if　the　Bonapartes　remember　us。〃



Then　he　walked　with　a　slow；　determined　step　toward　the　entrance　of　the

palace；　where　he　was；　naturally；　stopped　by　a　soldier　of　the　consular

guard；　with　whom　he　was　not　permitted　a　long　discussion。　Seeing　this

man's　obstinate　determination；　the　sentinel　presented　his　bayonet　in

the　form　of　an　ultimatum。　Chance　willed　that　the　guard　was　changed　at

that　moment；　and　the　corporal　very　obligingly　pointed　out　to　the

stranger　the　spot　where　the　commander　of　the　post　was　standing。



〃Let　Bonaparte　know　that　Bartolomeo　di　Piombo　wishes　to　speak　with

him；〃　said　the　Italian　to　the　captain　on　duty。



In　vain　the　officer　represented　to　Bartolomeo　that　he　could　not　see

the　First　Consul　without　having　previously　requested　an　audience　in

writing；　the　Italian　insisted　that　the　soldier　should　go　to　Bonaparte。

The　officer　stated　the　rules　of　the　post；　and　refused　to　comply　with

the　order　of　this　singular　visitor。　Bartolomeo　frowned　heavily；

casting　a　terrible　look　at　the　captain；　as　if　he　made　him　responsible

for　the　misfortunes　that　this　refusal　might　occasion。　Then　he　kept

silence；　folded　his　arms　tightly　across　his　breast；　and　took　up　his

station　under　the　portico　which　serves　as　an　avenue　of　communication

between　the　garden　and　the　court…yard　of　the　Tuileries。　Persons　who

will　things　intensely　are　very　apt　to　be　helped　by　chance。　At　the

moment　when　Bartolomeo　di　Piombo　seated　himself　on　one　of　the　stone

posts　which　was　near　the　entrance；　a　carriage　drew　up；　from　which

Lucien　Bonaparte；　minister　of　the　interior；　issued。



〃Ah；　Loucian；　it　is　lucky　for　me　I　have　met　you！〃　cried　the　stranger。



These　words；　said　in　the　Corsican　patois；　stopped　Lucien　at　the　moment

when　he　was　springing　under　the　portico。　He　looked　at　his　compatriot；

and　recognized　him。　At　the　first　word　that　Bartolomeo　said　in　his　ear；

he　took　the　Corsican　away　with　him。



Murat；　Lannes；　and　Rapp　were　at　that　moment　in　the　cabinet　of　the

First　Consul。　As　Lucien　entered；　followed　by　a　man　so　singular　in

appearance　as　Piombo；　the　conversation　ceased。　Lucien　took　Napoleon　by

the　arm　and　led　him　into　the　recess　of　a　window。　After　exchanging　a

few　words　with　his　brother；　the　First　Consul　made　a　sign　with　his

hand；　which　Murat　and　Lannes　obeyed　by　retiring。　Rapp　pretended　not　to

have　seen　it；　in　order　to　remain　where　he　was。　Bonaparte　then　spoke　to

him　sharply；　and　the　aide…de…camp；　with　evident　unwillingness；　left

the　room。　The　First　Consul；　who　listened　for　Rapp's　step　in　the

adjoining　salon；　opened　the　door　suddenly；　and　found　his　aide…de…camp

close　to　the　wall　of　the　cabinet。



〃Do　you　choose　not　to　understand　me？〃　said　the　First　Consul。　〃I　wish

to　be　alone　with　my　compatriot。〃



〃A　Corsican！〃　replied　the　aide…de…camp。　〃I　distrust　those　fellows　too

much　to〃



The　First　Consul　could　not　restrain　a　smile　as　he　pushed　his　faithful

officer　by　the　shoulders。



〃Well；　what　has　brought　you　here；　my　poor　Bartolomeo？〃　said　Napoleon。



〃To　ask　asylum　and　protection　from　you；　if　you　are　a　true　Corsican；〃

replied　Bartolomeo；　roughly。



〃What　ill　fortune　drove　you　from　the　island？　You　were　the　richest；　the

most〃



〃I　have　killed　all　the　Portas；〃　replied　the　Corsican；　in　a　deep　voice；

frowning　heavily。



The　First　Consul　took　two　steps　backward　in　surprise。



〃Do　you　mean　to　betray　me？〃　cried　Bartolomeo；　with　a　darkling　look　at

Bonaparte。　〃Do　you　know　that　there　are　still　four　Piombos　in　Corsica？〃



Lucien　took　an　arm　of　his　compatriot　and　shook　it。



〃Did　you　come　here　to　threaten　the　savior　of　France？〃　he　said。



Bonaparte　made　a　sign　to　Lucien；　who　kept　silence。　Then　he　looked　at

Piombo　and　said：



〃Why　did　you　kill　the　Portas？〃



〃We　had　made　friends；〃　replied　the　man；　〃the　Barbantis　reconciled　us。

The　day　after　we　had　drunk　together　to　drown　our　quarrels；　I　left　home

because　I　had　business　at　Bastia。　The　Portas　remained　in　my　house；　and

set　fire　to　my　vineyard　at　Longone。　They　killed　my　son　Gregorio。　My

daughter　Ginevra　and　my　wife；　having　taken　the　sacrament　that　morning；

escaped；　the　Virgin　protected　them。　When　I　returned　I　found　no　house；

my　feet　were　in　its　ashes　as　I　searched　for　it。　Suddenly　they　struck

against　the　body　of　Gregorio；　I　recognized　him　in　the　moonlight。　'The

Portas　have　dealt　me　this　blow；'　I　said；　and；　forthwith；　I　went　to　the

woods；　and　there　I　called　together　all　the　men　whom　I　had　ever　served；

do　you　hear　me；　Bonaparte？and　we　marched　to　the　vineyard　of　the

Portas。　We　got　there　at　five　in　the　morning；　at　seven　they　were　all

before　God。　Giacomo　declares　that　Eliza　Vanni　saved　a　child；　Luigi。

But　I　myself　bound　him　to　his　bed　before　setting　fire　to　the　house。　I

have　left　the　island　with　my　wife　and　child　without　being　able　to

discover　whether；　indeed；　Luigi　Porta　is　alive。〃



Bonaparte　looked　with　curiosity　at　Bartolomeo；　but　without　surprise。



〃How　many　were　there？〃　asked　Lucien。



〃Seven；〃　replied　Piombo。　〃All　of　them　were　your　persecutors　in　the

olden　times。〃



These　words　roused　no　expression　of　hatred　on　the　part　of　the　two

brothers。



〃Ha！　you　are　no　longer　Corsicans！〃　cried　Piombo；　with　a　sort　of

despair。　〃Farewell。　In　other　days　I　protected　you；〃　he　added；　in　a

reproachful　tone。　〃Without　me；　your　mother　would　never　have　reached

Marseille；〃　he　said；　addressing　himself　to　Bonaparte；　who　was　silent

and　thoughtful；　his　elbow　resting　on　a　mantel…shelf。



〃As　a　matter　of　duty；　Piombo；〃　said　Napoleon　at　last；　〃I　cannot　take

you　under　my　wing。　I　have　become　the　leader　of　a　great　nation；　I

command　the　Republic；　I　am　bound　to　execute　the　laws。〃



〃Ha！　ha！〃　said　Bartolomeo；　scornfully。



〃But　I　can　shut　my　eyes；〃　continued　Bonaparte。　〃The　tradition　of　the

Vendetta　will　long　prevent　the　reign　of　law　in　Corsica；〃　he　added；　as

if　speaking　to　himself。　〃But　it　MUST　be　destroyed；　at　any　cost。〃



Bonaparte　was　silent　for　a　few　moments；　and　Lucien　made　a　sign　to

Piombo　not　to　speak。　The　Corsican　was　swaying　his　head　from　right　to

left　in　deep　disapproval。



〃Live　here；　in　P