later--if I lose my way."

The man smiled grimly. In Corsica men rarely laugh.

"You will not do that. You know this country too well for that. You are
the officer connected with the railway. I have seen you looking through
your instruments at the earth, in the mountains, in the rocks, and down
in the plains--everywhere."

"It is my work," answered the colonel, tapping with his whip the gold
lace on his sleeve. "One must do what one is ordered."

The other shrugged his shoulders, not seeming to think that necessary.
They rode on in silence, which was only broken from time to time by the
colonel, who asked harmless questions as to the names of the mountain
summits now appearing through the riven clouds, or the course of the
rivers, or the ownership of the wild and rocky land. At the cross-roads
they parted.

"I am returning to Olmeta," said the peasant, as they neared the
sign-post, "and will send that letter up to the Casa Perucca by one of my
children. I wonder"--he paused, and, taking the letter from his jacket
pocket, turned it curiously in his hand--"I wonder what is in it?"

The colonel shrugged his shoulders and turned his horse's head. It was,
it appeared, no business of his to inquire what the letter contained, or
to care whether it be delivered or not. Indeed, he appeared to have
forgotten all about it.

"Good day, my friend--good day," he said absent-mindedly.