The next day Danglars was again hungry; certainly the air of that
dungeon was very provocative of appetite. The prisoner expected that
he would be at no expense that day, for like an economical man he had
concealed half of his fowl and a piece of the bread in the corner of his
cell. But he had no sooner eaten than he felt thirsty; he had forgotten
that. He struggled against his thirst till his tongue clave to the
roof of his mouth; then, no longer able to resist, he called out. The
sentinel opened the door; it was a new face. He thought it would be
better to transact business with his old acquaintance, so he sent for
Peppino. "Here I am, your excellency," said Peppino, with an eagerness
which Danglars thought favorable to him. "What do you want?"
"Something to drink."
"Your excellency knows that wine is beyond all price near Rome."
"Then give me water," cried Danglars, endeavoring to parry the blow.
"Oh, water is even more scarce than wine, your excellency,--there has
been such a drought."
"Come," thought Danglars, "it is the same old story." And while he
smiled as he attempted to regard the affair as a joke, he felt his
temples get moist with perspiration.
"Come, my friend," said Danglars, seeing that he made no impression on
Peppino, "you will not refuse me a glass of wine?"
"I have already told you that we do not sell at retail."
"Well, then, let me have a bottle of the least expensive."
"They are all the same price."
"And what is that?"
"Twenty-five thousand francs a bottle."
"Tell me," cried Danglars, in a tone whose bitterness Harpagon [*] alone
has been capable of revealing--"tell me that you wish to despoil me of
all; it will be sooner over than devouring me piecemeal."
* The miser in Moliere's comedy of "L'Avare."--Ed.
"It is possible such may be the master's intention."
"The master?--who is he?"
"The person to whom you were conducted yesterday."
"Where is he?"
"Here."
"Let me see him."
"Certainly." And the next moment Luigi Vampa appeared before Danglars.
"You sent for me?" he said to the prisoner.
"Are you, sir, the chief of the people who brought me here?"
"Yes, your excellency. What then?"
"How much do you require for my ransom?"
"Merely the 5,000,000 you have about you." Danglars felt a dreadful
spasm dart through his heart. "But this is all I have left in the
world," he said, "out of an immense fortune. If you deprive me of that,
take away my life also."
"We are forbidden to shed your blood."
"And by whom are you forbidden?"
"By him we obey."
"You do, then, obey some one?"
"Yes, a chief."
"I thought you said you were the chief?"
"So I am of these men; but there is another over me."
"And did your superior order you to treat me in this way?"
"Yes."
"But my purse will be exhausted."
"Probably."
"Come," said Danglars, "will you take a million?"
"No."
"Two millions?--three?--four? Come, four? I will give them to you on
condition that you let me go."
"Why do you offer me 4,000,000 for what is worth 5,000,000? This is a
kind of usury, banker, that I do not understand."
"Take all, then--take all, I tell you, and kill me!"
"Come, come, calm yourself. You will excite your blood, and that would
produce an appetite it would require a million a day to satisfy. Be more
economical."
"But when I have no more money left to pay you?" asked the infuriated
Danglars.
"Then you must suffer hunger."
"Suffer hunger?" said Danglars, becoming pale.
"Most likely," replied Vampa coolly.
"But you say you do not wish to kill me?"
"No."
"And yet you will let me perish with hunger?"
"Ah, that is a different thing."
"Well, then, wretches," cried Danglars, "I will defy your infamous
calculations--I would rather die at once! You may torture, torment, kill
me, but you shall not have my signature again!"
"As your excellency pleases," said Vampa, as he left the cell. Danglars,
raving, threw himself on the goat-skin. Who could these men be? Who was
the invisible chief? What could be his intentions towards him? And why,
when every one else was allowed to be ransomed, might he not also be?
Oh, yes; certainly a speedy, violent death would be a fine means of
deceiving these remorseless enemies, who appeared to pursue him with
such incomprehensible vengeance. But to die? For the first time in his
life, Danglars contemplated death with a mixture of dread and desire;
the time had come when the implacable spectre, which exists in the mind
of every human creature, arrested his attention and called out with
every pulsation of his heart, "Thou shalt die!"
Danglars resembled a timid animal excited in the chase; first it flies,
then despairs, and at last, by the very force of desperation, sometimes
succeeds in eluding its pursuers. Danglars meditated an escape; but the
walls were solid rock, a man was sitting reading at the only outlet to
the cell, and behind that man shapes armed with guns continually passed.
His resolution not to sign lasted two days, after which he offered a
million for some food. They sent him a magnificent supper, and took his
million.
From this time the prisoner resolved to suffer no longer, but to have
everything he wanted. At the end of twelve days, after having made a
splendid dinner, he reckoned his accounts, and found that he had only
50,000 francs left. Then a strange reaction took place; he who had just
abandoned 5,000,000 endeavored to save the 50,000 francs he had left,
and sooner than give them up he resolved to enter again upon a life of
privation--he was deluded by the hopefulness that is a premonition of
madness. He who for so long a time had forgotten God, began to
think that miracles were possible--that the accursed cavern might be
discovered by the officers of the Papal States, who would release him;
that then he would have 50,000 remaining, which would be sufficient to
save him from starvation; and finally he prayed that this sum might
be preserved to him, and as he prayed he wept. Three days passed thus,
during which his prayers were frequent, if not heartfelt. Sometimes he
was delirious, and fancied he saw an old man stretched on a pallet; he,
also, was dying of hunger.
On the fourth, he was no longer a man, but a living corpse. He had
picked up every crumb that had been left from his former meals, and was
beginning to eat the matting which covered the floor of his cell. Then
he entreated Peppino, as he would a guardian angel, to give him food;
he offered him 1,000 francs for a mouthful of bread. But Peppino did not
answer. On the fifth day he dragged himself to the door of the cell.
"Are you not a Christian?" he said, falling on his knees. "Do you wish
to assassinate a man who, in the eyes of heaven, is a brother? Oh, my
former friends, my former friends!" he murmured, and fell with his face
to the ground. Then rising in despair, he exclaimed, "The chief, the
chief!"
"Here I am," said Vampa, instantly appearing; "what do you want?"
"Take my last gold," muttered Danglars, holding out his pocket-book,
"and let me live here; I ask no more for liberty--I only ask to live!"
"Then you suffer a great deal?"
"Oh, yes, yes, cruelly!"
"Still, there have been men who suffered more than you."
"I do not think so."
"Yes; those who have died of hunger."
Danglars thought of the old man whom, in his hours of delirium, he
had seen groaning on his bed. He struck his forehead on the ground and
groaned. "Yes," he said, "there have been some who have suffered more
than I have, but then they must have been martyrs at least."
"Do you repent?" asked a deep, solemn voice, which caused Danglars' hair
to stand on end. His feeble eyes endeavored to distinguish objects, and
behind the bandit he saw a man enveloped in a cloak, half lost in the
shadow of a stone column.
"Of what must I repent?" stammered Danglars.
"Of the evil you have done," said the voice.
"Oh, yes; oh, yes, I do indeed repent." And he struck his breast with
his emaciated fist.
"Then I forgive you," said the man, dropping his cloak, and advancing to
the light.
"The Count of Monte Cristo!" said Danglars, more pale from terror than
he had been just before from hunger and misery.
"You are mistaken--I am not the Count of Monte Cristo."
"Then who are you?"
"I am he whom you sold and dishonored--I am he whose betrothed you
prostituted--I am he upon whom you trampled that you might raise
yourself to fortune--I am he whose father you condemned to die of
hunger--I am he whom you also condemned to starvation, and who yet
forgives you, because he hopes to be forgiven--I am Edmond Dantes!"
Danglars uttered a cry, and fell prostrate. "Rise," said the count,
"your life is safe; the same good fortune has not happened to your
accomplices--one is mad, the other dead. Keep the 50,000 francs you have
left--I give them to you. The 5,000,000 you stole from the hospitals has
been restored to them by an unknown hand. And now eat and drink; I will
entertain you to-night. Vampa, when this man is satisfied, let him be
free." Danglars remained prostrate while the count withdrew; when he
raised his head he saw disappearing down the passage nothing but
a shadow, before which the bandits bowed. According to the count's
directions, Danglars was waited on by Vampa, who brought him the best
wine and fruits of Italy; then, having conducted him to the road, and
pointed to the post-chaise, left him leaning against a tree. He remained
there all night, not knowing where he was. When daylight dawned he saw
that he was near a stream; he was thirsty, and dragged himself towards
it. As he stooped down to drink, he saw that his hair had become
entirely white.
Chapter 117. The Fifth of October.
It was about six o'clock in the evening; an opal-colored light, through
which an autumnal sun shed its golden rays, descended on the blue ocean.
The heat of the day had gradually decreased, and a light breeze arose,
seeming like the respiration of nature on awakening from the burning
siesta of the south. A delicious zephyr played along the coasts of
the Mediterranean, and wafted from shore to shore the sweet perfume of
plants, mingled with the fresh smell of the sea.
A light yacht, chaste and elegant in its form, was gliding amidst the
first dews of night over the immense lake, extending from Gibraltar to
the Dardanelles, and from Tunis to Venice. The vessel resembled a
swan with its wings opened towards the wind, gliding on the water. It
advanced swiftly and gracefully, leaving behind it a glittering stretch
of foam. By degrees the sun disappeared behind the western horizon; but
as though to prove the truth of the fanciful ideas in heathen mythology,
its indiscreet rays reappeared on the summit of every wave, as if the
god of fire had just sunk upon the bosom of Amphitrite, who in vain
endeavored to hide her lover beneath her azure mantle. The yacht moved
rapidly on, though there did not appear to be sufficient wind to ruffle
the curls on the head of a young girl. Standing on the prow was a tall
man, of a dark complexion, who saw with dilating eyes that they were
approaching a dark mass of land in the shape of a cone, which rose
from the midst of the waves like the hat of a Catalan. "Is that Monte
Cristo?" asked the traveller, to whose orders the yacht was for the time
submitted, in a melancholy voice.
"Yes, your excellency," said the captain, "we have reached it."
"We have reached it!" repeated the traveller in an accent of
indescribable sadness. Then he added, in a low tone, "Yes; that is the
haven." And then he again plunged into a train of thought, the character
of which was better revealed by a sad smile, than it would have been by
tears. A few minutes afterwards a flash of light, which was extinguished
instantly, was seen on the land, and the sound of firearms reached the
yacht.
"Your excellency," said the captain, "that was the land signal, will you
answer yourself?"
"What signal?" The captain pointed towards the island, up the side of
which ascended a volume of smoke, increasing as it rose. "Ah, yes," he
said, as if awaking from a dream. "Give it to me."
The captain gave him a loaded carbine; the traveller slowly raised it,
and fired in the air. Ten minutes afterwards, the sails were furled, and
they cast anchor about a hundred fathoms from the little harbor. The
gig was already lowered, and in it were four oarsmen and a coxswain.
The traveller descended, and instead of sitting down at the stern of the
boat, which had been decorated with a blue carpet for his accommodation,
stood up with his arms crossed. The rowers waited, their oars half
lifted out of the water, like birds drying their wings.
"Give way," said the traveller. The eight oars fell into the sea
simultaneously without splashing a drop of water, and the boat, yielding
to the impulsion, glided forward. In an instant they found themselves
in a little harbor, formed in a natural creek; the boat grounded on the
fine sand.
"Will your excellency be so good as to mount the shoulders of two of our
men, they will carry you ashore?" The young man answered this invitation
with a gesture of indifference, and stepped out of the boat; the sea
