The Count of Monte Cristo
“And if I went to seek Vampa, would you accompany me?”
“If my society would not be disagreeable.”
“Be it so. It is a lovely night, and a walk without Rome will do us
both good.”
“Shall I take any arms?”
“For what purpose?”
“Any money?”
“It is useless. Where is the man who brought the letter?”
“In the street.”
“He awaits the answer?”
“Yes.”
“I must learn where we are going. I will summon him hither.”
“It is useless; he would not come up.”
“To your apartments, perhaps; but he will not make any difficulty at
entering mine.”
The count went to the window of the apartment that looked on to the
street, and whistled in a peculiar manner. The man in the mantle
quitted the wall, and advanced into the middle of the street.
“_Salite!_” said the count, in the same tone in which he would have
given an order to his servant. The messenger obeyed without the least
hesitation, but rather with alacrity, and, mounting the steps at a
bound, entered the hotel; five seconds afterwards he was at the door of
the room.
“Ah, it is you, Peppino,” said the count. But Peppino, instead of
answering, threw himself on his knees, seized the count’s hand, and
covered it with kisses. “Ah,” said the count, “you have, then, not
forgotten that I saved your life; that is strange, for it is a week
ago.”
20203m
“No, excellency; and never shall I forget it,” returned Peppino, with
an accent of profound gratitude.
“Never? That is a long time; but it is something that you believe so.
Rise and answer.”
Peppino glanced anxiously at Franz.
“Oh, you may speak before his excellency,” said he; “he is one of my
friends. You allow me to give you this title?” continued the count in
French, “it is necessary to excite this man’s confidence.”
“You can speak before me,” said Franz; “I am a friend of the count’s.”
“Good!” returned Peppino. “I am ready to answer any questions your
excellency may address to me.”
“How did the Viscount Albert fall into Luigi’s hands?”
“Excellency, the Frenchman’s carriage passed several times the one in
which was Teresa.”
“The chief’s mistress?”
“Yes. The Frenchman threw her a bouquet; Teresa returned it—all this
with the consent of the chief, who was in the carriage.”
“What?” cried Franz, “was Luigi Vampa in the carriage with the Roman
peasants?”
“It was he who drove, disguised as the coachman,” replied Peppino.
“Well?” said the count.
“Well, then, the Frenchman took off his mask; Teresa, with the chief’s
consent, did the same. The Frenchman asked for a rendezvous; Teresa
gave him one—only, instead of Teresa, it was Beppo who was on the steps
of the church of San Giacomo.”
“What!” exclaimed Franz, “the peasant girl who snatched his _mocoletto_
from him——”
“Was a lad of fifteen,” replied Peppino. “But it was no disgrace to
your friend to have been deceived; Beppo has taken in plenty of
others.”
“And Beppo led him outside the walls?” said the count.
“Exactly so; a carriage was waiting at the end of the Via Macello.
Beppo got in, inviting the Frenchman to follow him, and he did not wait
to be asked twice. He gallantly offered the right-hand seat to Beppo,
and sat by him. Beppo told him he was going to take him to a villa a
league from Rome; the Frenchman assured him he would follow him to the
end of the world. The coachman went up the Via di Ripetta and the Porta
San Paolo; and when they were two hundred yards outside, as the
Frenchman became somewhat too forward, Beppo put a brace of pistols to
his head, the coachman pulled up and did the same. At the same time,
four of the band, who were concealed on the banks of the Almo,
surrounded the carriage. The Frenchman made some resistance, and nearly
strangled Beppo; but he could not resist five armed men, and was forced
to yield. They made him get out, walk along the banks of the river, and
then brought him to Teresa and Luigi, who were waiting for him in the
catacombs of St. Sebastian.”
“Well,” said the count, turning towards Franz, “it seems to me that
this is a very likely story. What do you say to it?”
“Why, that I should think it very amusing,” replied Franz, “if it had
happened to anyone but poor Albert.”
“And, in truth, if you had not found me here,” said the count, “it
might have proved a gallant adventure which would have cost your friend
dear; but now, be assured, his alarm will be the only serious
consequence.”
“And shall we go and find him?” inquired Franz.
“Oh, decidedly, sir. He is in a very picturesque place—do you know the
catacombs of St. Sebastian?”
“I was never in them; but I have often resolved to visit them.”
“Well, here is an opportunity made to your hand, and it would be
difficult to contrive a better. Have you a carriage?”
“No.”
“That is of no consequence; I always have one ready, day and night.”
“Always ready?”
“Yes. I am a very capricious being, and I should tell you that
sometimes when I rise, or after my dinner, or in the middle of the
night, I resolve on starting for some particular point, and away I go.”
The count rang, and a footman appeared.
“Order out the carriage,” he said, “and remove the pistols which are in
the holsters. You need not awaken the coachman; Ali will drive.”
In a very short time the noise of wheels was heard, and the carriage
stopped at the door. The count took out his watch.
“Half-past twelve,” he said. “We might start at five o’clock and be in
time, but the delay may cause your friend to pass an uneasy night, and
therefore we had better go with all speed to extricate him from the
hands of the infidels. Are you still resolved to accompany me?”
“More determined than ever.”
“Well, then, come along.”
Franz and the count went downstairs, accompanied by Peppino. At the
door they found the carriage. Ali was on the box, in whom Franz
recognized the dumb slave of the grotto of Monte Cristo. Franz and the
count got into the carriage. Peppino placed himself beside Ali, and
they set off at a rapid pace. Ali had received his instructions, and
went down the Corso, crossed the Campo Vaccino, went up the Strada San
Gregorio, and reached the gates of St. Sebastian. Then the porter
raised some difficulties, but the Count of Monte Cristo produced a
permit from the governor of Rome, allowing him to leave or enter the
city at any hour of the day or night; the portcullis was therefore
raised, the porter had a louis for his trouble, and they went on their
way.
The road which the carriage now traversed was the ancient Appian Way,
and bordered with tombs. From time to time, by the light of the moon,
which began to rise, Franz imagined that he saw something like a
sentinel appear at various points among the ruins, and suddenly retreat
into the darkness on a signal from Peppino.
A short time before they reached the Baths of Caracalla the carriage
stopped, Peppino opened the door, and the count and Franz alighted.
“In ten minutes,” said the count to his companion, “we shall be there.”
He then took Peppino aside, gave him an order in a low voice, and
Peppino went away, taking with him a torch, brought with them in the
carriage. Five minutes elapsed, during which Franz saw the shepherd
going along a narrow path that led over the irregular and broken
surface of the Campagna; and finally he disappeared in the midst of the
tall red herbage, which seemed like the bristling mane of an enormous
lion.
“Now,” said the count, “let us follow him.”
Franz and the count in their turn then advanced along the same path,
which, at the distance of a hundred paces, led them over a declivity to
the bottom of a small valley. They then perceived two men conversing in
the obscurity.
“Ought we to go on?” asked Franz of the count; “or should we pause?”
“Let us go on; Peppino will have warned the sentry of our coming.”
One of the two men was Peppino, and the other a bandit on the lookout.
Franz and the count advanced, and the bandit saluted them.
“Your excellency,” said Peppino, addressing the count, “if you will
follow me, the opening of the catacombs is close at hand.”
“Go on, then,” replied the count. They came to an opening behind a
clump of bushes and in the midst of a pile of rocks, by which a man
could scarcely pass. Peppino glided first into this crevice; after they
got along a few paces the passage widened. Peppino passed, lighted his
torch, and turned to see if they came after him. The count first
reached an open space and Franz followed him closely. The passageway
sloped in a gentle descent, enlarging as they proceeded; still Franz
and the count were compelled to advance in a stooping posture, and were
scarcely able to proceed abreast of one another. They went on a hundred
and fifty paces in this way, and then were stopped by, “Who comes
there?” At the same time they saw the reflection of a torch on a
carbine barrel.
“A friend!” responded Peppino; and, advancing alone towards the sentry,
he said a few words to him in a low tone; and then he, like the first,
saluted the nocturnal visitors, making a sign that they might proceed.
Behind the sentinel was a staircase with twenty steps. Franz and the
count descended these, and found themselves in a mortuary chamber. Five
corridors diverged like the rays of a star, and the walls, dug into
niches, which were arranged one above the other in the shape of
coffins, showed that they were at last in the catacombs. Down one of
the corridors, whose extent it was impossible to determine, rays of
light were visible. The count laid his hand on Franz’s shoulder.
“Would you like to see a camp of bandits in repose?” he inquired.
“Exceedingly,” replied Franz.
“Come with me, then. Peppino, put out the torch.” Peppino obeyed, and
Franz and the count were in utter darkness, except that fifty paces in
advance of them a reddish glare, more evident since Peppino had put out
his torch, was visible along the wall.
They advanced silently, the count guiding Franz as if he had the
singular faculty of seeing in the dark. Franz himself, however, saw his
way more plainly in proportion as he went on towards the light, which
served in some manner as a guide. Three arcades were before them, and
the middle one was used as a door. These arcades opened on one side
into the corridor where the count and Franz were, and on the other into
a large square chamber, entirely surrounded by niches similar to those
of which we have spoken.
In the midst of this chamber were four stones, which had formerly
served as an altar, as was evident from the cross which still
surmounted them. A lamp, placed at the base of a pillar, lighted up
with its pale and flickering flame the singular scene which presented
itself to the eyes of the two visitors concealed in the shadow.
A man was seated with his elbow leaning on the column, and was reading
with his back turned to the arcades, through the openings of which the
new-comers contemplated him. This was the chief of the band, Luigi
Vampa. Around him, and in groups, according to their fancy, lying in
their mantles, or with their backs against a sort of stone bench, which
went all round the columbarium, were to be seen twenty brigands or
more, each having his carbine within reach. At the other end, silent,
scarcely visible, and like a shadow, was a sentinel, who was walking up
and down before a grotto, which was only distinguishable because in
that spot the darkness seemed more dense than elsewhere.
When the count thought Franz had gazed sufficiently on this picturesque
tableau, he raised his finger to his lips, to warn him to be silent,
and, ascending the three steps which led to the corridor of the
columbarium, entered the chamber by the middle arcade, and advanced
towards Vampa, who was so intent on the book before him that he did not
hear the noise of his footsteps.