Never in his life, perhaps, had Franz ever felt such a sharply defined and rapid transformation from merriment to sadness as he did at that moment. You would have thought that Rome, under the magic wand of some demon of the night, had changed into one vast tomb. By an eventuality which added to the blackness of the night, the moon was waning and not due to rise until eleven o'clock, so the streets through which the young man walked were plunged in utter darkness. But the journey was short. In ten minutes his carriage -- that is to say, the count's -- stopped at the Hôtel de Londres.
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Dinner was waiting for him but, since Albert had warned him that he might not return immediately, Franz sat down to eat without waiting for him.
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Signor Pastrini, who was used to seeing them dine together, asked why Albert was not there, but Franz said no more than that his friend had received an invitation two days earlier and had accepted it. The sudden extinction of the moccoletti, the darkness that had replaced the light and the silence that had followed the din had left Franz feeling melancholy, and even a little tense; so he dined in total silence, even though Signor Pastrini was as attentive as ever and came in two or three times to ask if he had everything he needed.
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Franz was determined to wait up as late as possible for Albert, so he ordered the carriage only for eleven o'clock, asking Signor Pastrini to inform him immediately if Albert reappeared at the hotel for any reason. At eleven Albert had not returned, so Franz dressed and left, telling his host that he would be spending the night at the Duke of Bracciano's.
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The Duke of Bracciano's house is one of the most delightful in Rome. His wife, one of the last heirs of the Colonna family, is a perfect hostess. Consequently the duke's entertainments are famous throughout Europe. Franz and Albert had arrived in Rome with letters of introduction to him, so his first question was to ask Franz what had become of his travelling companion. Franz replied that he had left him at the moment just as the moccoli were about to be extinguished and that he had lost sight of him in the Via Macello.
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"And he has not come home?" said the duke.
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"I waited for him until now," Franz replied.
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"Not precisely, but I believe that there was some kind of assignation."
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"Do you know where he was going?"
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"On the contrary, I think the night is charming," said the countess. "Those who are here will only have one thing to complain of, which is that it will go too quickly."
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"Damnation!" said the duke. "This is a bad day -- or, rather, a bad night -- to be out late; don't you think, Madame la Comtesse?"
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The last words were addressed to Countess G --, who had just arrived, on the arm of M. Torlonia, the duke's brother.
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"Good heavens," said the countess. "Whoever would be in the streets at this time of night, unless coming to your ball?"
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The duke smiled. "I am not talking of those who are here, who run no risk except, if they are men, that of falling in love with you and, if they are women, falling ill with jealousy at seeing you so beautiful. I am thinking of those who are in the streets of Rome."
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"Our friend Albert de Morcerf, Countess, whom I left in pursuit of his beautiful stranger at seven o'clock this evening," said Franz. "I haven't seen him since."
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"What! And you don't know where he is?"
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"I have not the slightest idea."
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"Is he armed?"
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"You should not have let him go," the duke said. "You know Rome better than he does."
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"He's wearing clown's dress."
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"Perhaps, but it was not so easy: one might as well have tried to stop the number three horse which won today's race," Franz replied. "In any case, what could happen to him?"
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"Who knows? The night is very black and the Tiber is quite close to the Via Macello."
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Franz felt his blood run cold at seeing the duke and the countess's thoughts running along similar lines to the ones suggested by his own anxieties.
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"A letter from the vicomte!" Franz exclaimed.
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"I informed the hotel that I should have the honour of spending the night at your house, Duke," he said. "They are to come and tell me when he returns."
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"There!" said the duke. "I think this is one of my servants looking for you now."
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He was right. Seeing Franz, the servant came over. "Excellency," he said, "the owner of the Hôtel de Londres wishes to inform you that a man is waiting there with a letter from the Vicomte de Morcerf."
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"He gave me no explanation."
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"Yes."
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"Why did he not bring it to me here?"
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"He left as soon as he saw me come into the ballroom to speak to you."
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"Who is this man?"
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"I cannot tell you."
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"Yes, if the matter is not serious; otherwise I cannot say where I will be myself."
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"Where is this messenger?"
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"In any case, be prudent," said the countess.
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Franz took his hat and left hurriedly. He had sent away his carriage, ordering it for two o'clock; but fortunately the Palazzo Bracciano, which faces on to the Corso on one side and the Piazza dei Santi Apostoli on the other, is hardly ten minutes on foot from the Hôtel de Londres. As he approached the hotel, Franz saw a man standing in the middle of the street, and did not for an instant doubt that this was the messenger from Albert. The man was wearing a large cloak. He went over but, much to Franz's surprise, it was the man who spoke first.
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"I'm going this moment," said Franz.
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"Oh, my goodness!" the countess exclaimed. "Go quickly. Poor young man, perhaps he has had an accident."
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"Will you come back and tell us any news?" asked the countess.
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"Don't worry, I shall."
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"Is Your Excellency staying at Pastrini's hotel?"
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"Did you see the man who wanted to speak with you on behalf of your friend?" he asked Franz.
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"I am."
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"Certainly."
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"Well?" the innkeeper asked.
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Franz went into the hotel and met Signor Pastrini on the stairs.
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"Baron Franz d"Epinay."
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"I should prefer to wait here," the messenger said, laughing.
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"Is there to be any reply?" Franz asked, taking the letter from the man's hand.
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"Yes -- at least your friend hopes so."
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"Come up, then, and I'll give it to you."
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"Then this letter is indeed addressed to Your Excellency."
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"And is Your Excellency the viscount's travelling companion?"
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"So, am I to meet you again here?"
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"What do you want of me, Excellency?" he said, stepping backwards like a man wanting to keep up his defences.
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"What is Your Excellency's name?"
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"Well, what?" said Franz.
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"Your Excellency will understand everything when you have read the letter."
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"Yes."
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"Aren't you the person who is bringing me a letter from the Vicomte de Morcerf?" Franz asked.
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"Why?"
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"Your friend, ALBERT DE MORCERF"
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The hotelier gave the order to a servant to go ahead of Franz with a candle. The young man had sensed that Signor Pastrini was afraid, and this made him even more anxious to read Albert's letter. He went close to the candle as soon as it was lit and spread out the sheet of paper. The letter was in Albert's hand and was signed by him. Franz read it twice, so unexpected were its contents. This is precisely what it said:
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"Yes, I saw him," he replied. "And he gave me this letter. Please bring lights to my room."
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I shall not insist further: I count on you as you could count on me.
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"P. S. I believe now the Italian banditti."
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Dear Friend, as soon as you receive this, be so good as to take the letter of credit from my portfolio, which you will find in the square drawer of the writing table. If the amount is not enough, add your own. Go immediately to Torlonia's, draw four thousand piastres and give them to the bearer. It is urgent that this amount should reach me without delay.
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Beneath these lines was written in a strange hand these few words in Italian:
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There was no time to be lost. He ran to the writing table and opened it; in the drawer mentioned, he found the portfolio and, in the portfolio, the letter of credit. In all it was for six thousand piastres, but Albert had already spent three thousand of them. As for Franz, he had no letter of credit. Since he was living in Florence and had come to Rome for only seven or eight days, he had taken about a hundred louis with him and, of these, at the most fifty were left.
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Se alle sei della mattina le quattro mile piastre non sono nelle mie mani, alla sette il conte Alberto avia cessato di vivere. -- LUIGI VAMPA
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The second signature explained everything to Franz, who understood the messenger's reluctance to come up to his room: the street would seem safer to him. Albert had fallen into the clutches of the famous bandit chief in whose existence he had so long refused to believe.
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This meant that the two of them, Franz and Albert together, were seven or eight hundred piastres short of the amount asked for. It is true that in such a case Franz could count on the understanding of Messrs Torlonia. He was consequently preparing to return to the Palazzo Bracciano immediately, when suddenly he had a brilliant idea. He thought of the Count of Monte Cristo. He was just about to give the order to send for Signor Pastrini when the man appeared in person at the door.
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"Will he have had time to go to bed yet?"
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"My dear Signor Pastrini," he said eagerly, "do you know if the count is in?"
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Signor Pastrini hurried off to carry out these instructions and returned in five minutes. "The count is expecting Your Excellency," he said.
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"I doubt it."
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"Then kindly ring at his door and ask his permission for me to pay him a visit."
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"No, I have come to speak with you on serious business."
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"Yes, Excellency. He has just returned."
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"Business!" said the count, giving Franz his usual penetrating look. "What business?"
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The count went across to the door, then returned. "Completely alone," he said.
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Franz gave him Albert's letter. "Read this," he said.
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"Are we alone?"
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Franz crossed the landing and a servant showed him in to the count, who was in a little study that Franz had not yet seen, with divans around the walls. He came forward to meet him.
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"What fair wind brings you here at this hour?" he asked. "Are you inviting me to take supper with you? That would be very obliging, I must say."
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"On the contrary, you see that I came straight to you," said Franz.
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"Do you have the amount required?"
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"Did you see the postscript?"
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The count went over to his writing table, opened it and pulled out a drawer full of gold. "I hope," he said, "that you will not insult me by going to anyone else?"
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"For example, if we were to go together to meet Luigi Vampa, I am sure that he would not refuse to grant you Albert's freedom."
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"Yes, except for eight hundred piastres."
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"Is it really necessary to send this money to Luigi Vampa?" the young man asked, staring fixedly at the count in his turn.
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"Yes, certainly I did: 'Se alle sei della mattina le quattro mile piastre non sono nelle mie mani, alla sette il conte Alberto avia cessato di vivere.'"
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"It seems to me that, if you were to look for it, you would find a means to simplify the negotiation considerably," said Franz.
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"What do you say about that?"
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"Thank you. Please take what you need." And he motioned towards the drawer.
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"By God! Ask yourself: the postscript is clear enough."
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"What means?" asked the count in astonishment.
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The count read it and said only: "Ah!"
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"What does that matter? I know."
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"Me? What influence could I have over this bandit?"
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"Didn't you just save Peppino's life?"
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"What service?"
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"To your apartments, perhaps, but he will not mind coming to mine."
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"If my company was not too displeasing to you."
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"There is no need. Where is the man who brought this note?"
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"Yes."
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"Is he waiting for an answer?"
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"Should we take any money?"
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"What for?"
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"Should we arm ourselves?"
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"Have you not just rendered him the sort of service that is not easily forgotten?"
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"Very well. The night is fair and a walk in the Roman campagna can only do us good."
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"Ah ha! Now who told you that?"
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"It is pointless, he does not want to come up."
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"Outside, in the street."
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"We must have some idea of where we are going. I'll call him."
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The count stayed silent for a moment, frowning. "If I went to meet Vampa, would you come with me?"
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The count went to the window of the study, which overlooked the street, and whistled in a particular way. The man in the cloak stepped out of the shadows and into the middle of the street.
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"Well, I never," said the count. "You have not yet forgotten how I saved your life. Odd. It was already a week ago."
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"Salite!" the count said, as if giving orders to a servant. The messenger obeyed at once without hesitation, even eagerly, and, leaping across the four steps at the entrance to the hotel, came in. Five seconds later, he was at the study door.
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"Ah, it's you, Peppino!" said the count.
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Peppino, instead of answering, fell to his knees, grasped the count's hand and pressed his lips to it repeatedly.
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Peppino looked anxiously at Franz.
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"No, Excellency, and I shall never forget," said Peppino, in a tone of voice that expressed the depth of his gratitude.
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"Never is a very long time, but it counts for a lot that you should believe it. Stand up and answer me."
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"Oh! You can speak in front of His Excellency," the count said. "He is a friend of mine." Then he added, in French, turning to Franz: "I hope you will allow me to call you that. It is necessary to gain this man's confidence."
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"You may speak in front of me," Franz said. "I am a friend of the count's."
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"What!" Franz exclaimed. "Luigi Vampa was in the carriage with the peasant women!"
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"He was driving it, disguised as the coachman."
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"What!" Franz exclaimed, interrupting him again. "The peasant girl who took his moccoletto from him…?"
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"The chief's mistress?"
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"Fine!" said Peppino, turning back to the count. "Your Excellency can ask the questions and I shall reply."
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"How did Vicomte Albert fall into Luigi's hands?"
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"Yes. The Frenchman flirted with her and it amused Teresa to reply. The Frenchman threw her bouquets, she threw some back. All this, of course, was with the chief's consent. He was in the carriage himself."
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"And then?" asked the count.
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"Well, then the Frenchman took off his mask. Teresa, still with the chief's agreement, did the same. The Frenchman asked for a rendez-vous, and Teresa agreed; however, in place of Teresa, it was Beppo who was waiting on the steps of San Giacomo."
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"Was a fifteen-year-old boy," Peppino answered. "But there is no shame for your friend in the mistake; Beppo has fooled lots of others, take my word for it."
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"Excellency, the Frenchman's carriage drove several times past the one with Teresa in it."
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"Just so. A carriage was waiting at the end of the Via Macello. Beppo got in and told the Frenchman to follow; he did not need asking twice. He graciously offered the right-hand seat to Beppo and sat beside him. Thereupon Beppo told him he would be driven to a villa a league outside Rome. The Frenchman assured Beppo that he was prepared to follow him to the end of the earth. At this, the coachman went up the Via Ripetta, through the Porta San Paolo and, two hundred yards into the countryside, as the Frenchman was starting to get a little too forward, Beppo stuck a pair of pistols in his throat; upon which the coachman stopped the horses, turned around in his seat and did the same. At the same time four of our men who had been hiding on the banks of the Almo rushed across to the doors. The Frenchman tried his best to defend himself and even, so I heard, half strangled Beppo, but there was not much to be done against five armed men. He had to give up. He was taken out of the coach, along the banks of the stream and eventually to Teresa and Luigi, who were waiting for him in the Catacombs of San Sebastian."
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"And Beppo took him outside the walls?" asked the count.
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"No, I have never been into them, but I had promised myself that I would visit them one day."
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"We're still going to find him?"
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"Ready harnessed?"
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"The fact is," said the count, "that if you had not found me there, your friend's good fortune would have cost him dear. But don't worry: in the event he will get away with a fright."
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"No."
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"Yes, I must tell you, I am a very capricious person. Sometimes I get up from the table at the end of my dinner, in the middle of the night, and have a sudden desire to set off for some part of the world; so I leave."
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"Well, now you have a ready-made opportunity, and it would be hard to find a better one. Do you have your carriage?"
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"No matter. They invariably keep one ready harnessed for me, day and night."
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"I think I would find it most amusing," Franz replied, "if it had happened to anyone except poor Albert."
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"Certainly! All the more so since he is in a very picturesque spot. Do you know the Catacombs of Saint Sebastian?"
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"Well, what do you say to that?" said the count, turning towards Franz. "That's not a bad story, I think. You are a connoisseur in such matters; what do you think?"
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"Bring the carriage out of the coachhouse," he said, "and take the pistols which you will find in the pockets. There is no sense in waking the coachman, Ali will drive."
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The count rang and his valet appeared.
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"Half-past midnight," he said. "We could have left at five o'clock in the morning and still arrived in time; but that delay might have meant your friend spending an unpleasant night, so we had better set off at once to rescue him from the clutches of the infidel. Are you still set on accompanying me?"
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"More than ever."
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Franz and the count left, followed by Peppino. They found the carriage waiting at the door, with Ali on the box. Franz recognized the dumb slave from the grotto on Monte Cristo.
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A moment later the carriage could be heard drawing up outside the door. The count took out his watch.
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Franz and the count got into the carriage, a coupé. Peppino sat beside Ali and they set off at a gallop. Ali had had his orders in advance, for he followed the Corso, crossed the Campo Vaccino and drove up the Strada San Gregorio until they reached the Porto San Sebastiano. Here the gatekeeper tried to detain them, but the Count of Monte Cristo showed him an authorization from the governor of Rome allowing him to go in or out of the City at any time of the day or night, so the gateway was raised, the keeper had a louis for his trouble and they passed through.
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"Well then, come."
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They went along the same path and found that, after a hundred paces, it went down a slope to the bottom of a little valley. Soon they saw two men talking together in the darkness.
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A little way before the amphitheatre of Caracalla, the carriage halted, Peppino opened the door, and Franz and the count got down.
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The road that the carriage followed was the old Appian Way, lined with tombs. From time to time, in the light of the newly risen moon, Franz saw what he thought was a sentry gliding out of a ruin; but as soon as a sign had been exchanged between Peppino and this wraith, it vanished back into the shadows.
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"In ten minutes," the count told his companion, "we shall be there." He took Peppino aside, whispered some order to him, and Peppino left after taking a torch which they found in the trunk of the coupé.
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"Now," said the count. "Let's follow him."
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Five more minutes elapsed, during which Franz saw the shepherd follow a little path through the hillocks, which litter the uneven surface of the Roman plain, and disappear into a clump of that tall, reddish grass which resembles the bristling mane of some gigantic lion.
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"Carry on. Peppino must have warned the sentry of our arrival."
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One of the men, as it turned out, was Peppino, and the other a bandit acting as a guard. Franz and the count approached and the bandit greeted them.
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"Should we go on," Franz asked the count, "or should we wait?"
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"Excellency," Peppino told the count, "please be so good as to follow me: the entrance to the catacombs is a short distance from here."
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Behind a clump of bushes and hidden among some rocks was an opening through which a man could barely pass. Peppino went through this slit first, but he had hardly advanced more than a step or two before the passage widened; so he stopped, lit his torch and turned around to see that the others were following. The count had been the next to venture into this sort of funnel and Franz came after.
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"Very well," said the count. "Lead the way."
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The ground sloped gently downwards and the path widened as they went on, but Franz and the count were obliged to walk bent double and would still have had difficulty in going two abreast. They continued for a further fifty yards like this and were then stopped by the cry of: "Who goes there?" At the same time they saw the light from their own torch shining on the barrel of a rifle in the midst of the darkness.
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Behind the sentry was a staircase of about twenty steps. Franz and the count went down them and found themselves in a sort of crossroads of tombs: five paths led off it like the rays of a star and the walls were carved out with niches, one above the other, in the form of coffins, indicating that they had at last reached the catacombs.
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"A friend!" said Peppino. And he went on alone to say a few words in a low voice to this second sentry who, like the first, greeted the nocturnal visitors with a sign showing that they could continue on their way.
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"Yes, indeed," said Franz. "Then come with me. Peppino, put out the light."
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Peppino obeyed, and they found themselves plunged into the most profound darkness; however, about fifty yards ahead of them, a few reddish lights continued to play across the walls, made more visible since Peppino had put out his torch.
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In one of the cavities, the depth of which it was impossible to assess, one could see by day a few chinks of light. The count put his hand on Franz's shoulder. "Would you like to see an encampment of bandits at rest?" he asked.
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Around him could be seen some twenty bandits, lying as they chose, wrapped in their cloaks or propped against a sort of stone bench that ran all round the walls of the chamber. Each had his gun within reach. At the far end, hardly visible, like a ghost, a sentry was walking backwards and forwards in front of a sort of opening that could only be made out because the darkness seemed thicker at this point.
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On one side, these arches opened on the corridor down which the count and Franz had walked and, on the other, on a large square room completely surrounded by niches like the ones we have already mentioned. In the middle of the room stood four stones which had once served as an altar, as the cross on them still showed. A single lamp, placed on the shaft of a column, threw a faint and flickering light on the strange scene that met the eyes of the two visitors as they watched from the shadows.
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They went on in silence, the count guiding Franz as if he had the unusual ability of being able to see in the dark; and Franz himself could make out the way more easily, the closer they approached to the glow that showed them their way. Eventually, they passed through three arches, the middle one serving as a door.
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A man was sitting, his elbow resting on the column, and reading with his back turned towards the arches through which the new arrivals could watch him. It was the chief of the band, Luigi Vampa.
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When the count decided that Franz had had time to take in this picturesque scene, he put a finger to his lips to ensure his silence, then climbed the three steps leading from the passage to the chamber, went through the middle archway and walked across to Vampa, who was so deeply engrossed in what he was reading that he did not hear the sound of footsteps.
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At this, Vampa leapt to his feet, at the same time drawing a pistol from his belt. Immediately all the bandits were on their feet, and twenty gun-barrels were pointing towards the count.
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"Who goes there?" cried the sentry, more alert, seeing a sort of shadow growing in the light of the lamp behind his chief.
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"Well, well," he said quietly, in a perfectly calm voice, with a muscle twitching in his face. "My dear Vampa, there is no need to go to such trouble just to greet a friend."
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"Put down your weapons," the bandit chief said, with an imperious gesture of one hand, while with the other he respectfully removed his hat. Then, turning to the remarkable figure who dominated the whole of the scene, he added; "I beg your pardon, Monsieur le Comte. I was not expecting you to honour me with a visit and consequently did not recognize you."
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"This evening you have abducted and brought here Vicomte Albert de Morcerf. Now," the count continued in a voice that made Franz shudder, "this young man is one of my friends, staying at the same hotel as I am; he rode along the Corso for a week in my own carriage; yet, I repeat, you abducted him, brought him here and…" (here the count took the letter out of his pocket) "you have set a price on his head -- like any Tom, Dick or Harry."
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"What agreement have I forgotten, Monsieur le Comte?" the bandit asked in a voice that implied that, if he had made a mistake, he asked nothing better than to make amends for it.
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"Was it not understood," said the count, "that not only my own person but also that of my friends would be sacred to you?"
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"How have I failed in this respect, Excellency?"
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"Why was I not told of this?" the chief asked, turning towards his men, who shrank away from his look. "Why did you put me in a situation where I might fail in my promise to the count, who holds all our lives in his hands? By the blood of Christ! If I thought that any one of you knew that this young man was a friend of His Excellency, I should blow out his brains with my own hand."
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"It seems that your memory is short in everything, Vampa," the count said. "Not only do you forget a man's face, but also the agreement you have made with him."
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"You see?" the count said, turning towards Franz. "I told you that there must be some mistake."
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"You are not alone?" Vampa asked anxiously.
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Franz came into the chamber. The chief stepped towards him.
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"I am with the person to whom this letter is addressed, and I wanted to prove to him that Luigi Vampa is a man of his word. Come, Excellency," he said to Franz, "Luigi Vampa will tell you himself that he is in despair at the mistake he has made."
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"But where is the prisoner?" Franz asked, looking all around him anxiously. "I can't see him."
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"Welcome among us, Excellency," he said. "You have heard what the count just said, and my reply. I might add that I would not wish such a thing to have happened for the four thousand piastres at which I set your friend's ransom."
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"I hope no harm has come to him!" the count said, frowning.
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"The prisoner is there," Vampa said, pointing to the recess in front of which the sentry was marching. "I shall go myself and tell him that he is free."
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The chief went over to the place which he had indicated as Albert's prison, followed by the count and Franz.
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"Come, Excellency!" Vampa said.
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"My word, I don't know, Captain," he replied. "I haven't heard him stir for more than an hour."
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"What is the prisoner doing?" Vampa asked the sentry.
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The count and Franz went up seven or eight steps, still following the chief, who slipped a bolt and pushed open a door.
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By the light of a lamp like the one burning in the adjoining chamber, they could see Albert, wrapped in a cloak that he had been lent by one of the bandits, lying in a corner and sleeping profoundly.
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"Look at that!" the count said, smiling his peculiar smile. "Not bad for a man who was to be shot at seven tomorrow morning."
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Vampa looked at the sleeping figure with a certain degree of admiration: it was clear that he was not unimpressed by this proof of courage.
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"You are right, Monsieur le Comte," he said. "This must be one of your friends." Then, crossing over to Albert and touching him on the shoulder, he said: "Excellency, would you wake up?"
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Albert stretched his arms, rubbed his eyes and opened them.
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"But it's only half-past one in the morning!" he exclaimed. "Why the devil are you waking me up at this time?"
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"Someone to whom I can refuse nothing has come to ask for your freedom."
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Albert looked around and saw Franz.
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"Then how does it come about that I am free?"
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"Ah, it's you, Captain!" he said. "Egad, you might have let me sleep. I was having a delightful dream: I dreamed that I was dancing the gallopade at Torlonia's with Countess G --!"
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He took out his watch, which he had kept so that he could himself keep track of the time.
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"No, Excellency."
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"Come here?"
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"My dear friend," Albert said, with perfect equanimity, "in future be so good as to remember this maxim of our great emperor, Napoleon: 'Only wake me up when it's bad news.' If you had let me sleep, I should have finished my gallopade and been grateful to you for the rest of my life… So, have they paid my ransom?"
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"To tell you that you are free, Excellency."
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"Here."
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"Then, by heaven, he's a most generous someone!"
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"What! My dear Franz, are you so devoted a friend?"
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"No," Franz replied, "it is not I, but our neighbour, the Count of Monte Cristo."
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"Well, bless me!" said Albert merrily, adjusting his cravat and his cuffs. "Monsieur le Comte, you're a precious friend indeed and I hope that you will consider me eternally obliged to you, firstly for the matter of the carriage, and then for this!"
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He held his hand out to the count, who shuddered as he took it in his own but did return the handshake even so. The bandit was watching the whole of this scene with stupefaction: obviously, he was used to his prisoners trembling before him, but here was one whose derisive and quizzical mood had not faltered for a moment. As for Franz, he was delighted that Albert had upheld the honour of their nation, even when dealing with a bandit.
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"My dear Albert," he said, "if you would hurry, we may yet have time to end the night in Torlonia's. You can resume your gallopade where you left it off, and in that way you will harbour no grudge against Signor Luigi, who has truly acted as a man of honour in all this business."
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And Albert, followed by Franz and the count, went down the stairs and across the square chamber. All the bandits were standing with their hats in their hands.
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"In that case, I wish you a long life and good fortune. Come, gentlemen, come!"
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"Certainly!" he said. "You are right: we could be there at two o'clock. Signor Luigi," Albert continued, "are there any other formalities to be completed before we may take leave of Your Excellency?"
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"None at all, Monsieur," the bandit said. "You are as free as the air."
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"Peppino," said their leader, "give me the torch."
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"What are you doing?" asked the count.
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"I shall show you the way," the captain said. "It's the least I can do for Your Excellency."
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Taking the lighted torch from the hands of the shepherd, he went ahead of his guests, not like a valet who does some servant's work, but like a king leading a group of ambassadors.
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Arriving at the entrance, he bowed. "And now, Monsieur le Comte, I apologize again and hope that you will bear me no ill-will for what has happened?"
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They started off across the plain.
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"Caesar's Commentaries," the bandit said. "It is my favourite reading."
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"Yes, I admit," Franz replied. "I should very much like to know what book you were reading so attentively when we arrived."
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Franz and Albert bowed. The count went out first, followed by Albert, Franz staying until last.
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"Oh, one moment!" said Albert, turning back. "May I, Captain?" And he lit his cigar on Vampa's torch.
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"None, my dear Vampa," said the count. "In any event, you make up for your mistakes with such gallantry that one is almost grateful to you for having committed them."
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"Gentlemen!" the chief said, turning towards the two young men. "The offer may perhaps not appear very attractive to you, but should you ever wish to pay me a second visit, you will be welcome wherever I am."
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"Aren't you coming?" Albert called.
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"Yes," Franz replied. "Yes, here I am." And he followed the others through the narrow opening.
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"Does Your Excellency have something to ask me?" said Vampa, smiling.
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"Now, Monsieur le Comte," he said, "as quickly as possible! I am very keen to finish the night at the Duke of Bracciano's."
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The carriage was still where they had left it. The count said a single word in Arabic to Ali, and the horses set off at full speed.
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"Madame," the Vicomte de Morcerf said, stepping over to the countess, "yesterday you had the goodness to promise me a gallopade. I am a little late in asking you to fulfil this kind promise, but my friend here, whose trustworthiness you know, will confirm that it is not my fault."
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It was exactly two o'clock by Albert's watch when the two friends came into the ballroom. Their return caused a sensation; but, as they were coming in together, all anxieties that people may have had about Albert immediately ceased.
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As at this moment the musicians were striking up a waltz, Albert put his arm round the countess's waist and disappeared with her into the whirlwind of dancers.
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Franz, meanwhile, was thinking about the extraordinary shudder that had passed through the whole of the Count of Monte Cristo's body at the moment when he was more or less obliged to give Albert his hand.
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