Above the roof of the _Mairie_ sprung a grim tower, serving at once for a prison, in which criminals were confined, and for the barracks of the _gendarmerie_ stationed in that wild district. On the present occasion the target was set up at the foot of this tower, and all the young men of the village were, in turn, making a trial of skill with their long guns, while the old peasants stood near giving advice, and the village girls, ranged in _costume de fête_ round the palisades inclosing the place, rewarded the most successful of the competitors with smiles and glances of encouragement.
The contest had lasted for some time, and many shots were fired without the mark—fixed at the distance of about 300 paces—having been hit, when a young man, armed with a short Tyrolese rifle, came up to the barrier. He was dressed after the fashion of his fathers, but with great neatness. Short breeches of green velvet descended to the knees, and the calves of his legs were encased in deer-skin gaiters fastened by metal buttons. A broad belt of red leather girded his loins. It concealed a small pouch of cartridges, but the hilt of a strong dagger peeped from underneath the belt. His open shirt exposed to view a manly breast. He wore a sort of jacket of the same stuff as the breeches, but faced with crimson, and garnished, after the Spanish fashion, with a number of small silver studs. A high-crowned hat of black felt was cocked jantily on one side of his head, and a medallion of the _Madre dei Dolori_ stuck in the band, completed the picturesque costume of the Corsican peasant.
The young man, on his arrival, received a cordial welcome from all the competitors for the honours of the day, and, among the village maidens, many a bright eye beamed with a tender but modest delight on his manly form, shown to advantage in the national costume. Still he gave no sign of an intention to take any part in the sport for which they were assembled.
In consequence, after a short interval, during which the firing had ceased, an old villager thus addressed him:—
“How is it, Antonio, that you, the best marksman in the village, have joined us so late? The sport flags; let us have one of your true, unerring shots.”