of Olympus, one of those chaste figures, those calm shadows, those
soft visions, which seemed to veil its virgin brow before these marble
wantons. Then the three statues advanced towards him with looks of love,
and approached the couch on which he was reposing, their feet hidden in
their long white tunics, their throats bare, hair flowing like waves,
and assuming attitudes which the gods could not resist, but which saints
withstood, and looks inflexible and ardent like those with which the
serpent charms the bird; and then he gave way before looks that held him
in a torturing grasp and delighted his senses as with a voluptuous kiss.
It seemed to Franz that he closed his eyes, and in a last look about him
saw the vision of modesty completely veiled; and then followed a dream
of passion like that promised by the Prophet to the elect. Lips of stone
turned to flame, breasts of ice became like heated lava, so that to
Franz, yielding for the first time to the sway of the drug, love was a
sorrow and voluptuousness a torture, as burning mouths were pressed to
his thirsty lips, and he was held in cool serpent-like embraces. The
more he strove against this unhallowed passion the more his senses
yielded to its thrall, and at length, weary of a struggle that taxed his
very soul, he gave way and sank back breathless and exhausted beneath
the kisses of these marble goddesses, and the enchantment of his
marvellous dream.
Chapter 32. The Waking.
When Franz returned to himself, he seemed still to be in a dream. He
thought himself in a sepulchre, into which a ray of sunlight in pity
scarcely penetrated. He stretched forth his hand, and touched stone; he
rose to his seat, and found himself lying on his bournous in a bed of
dry heather, very soft and odoriferous. The vision had fled; and as if
the statues had been but shadows from the tomb, they had vanished at
his waking. He advanced several paces towards the point whence the light
came, and to all the excitement of his dream succeeded the calmness of
reality. He found that he was in a grotto, went towards the opening, and
through a kind of fanlight saw a blue sea and an azure sky. The air and
water were shining in the beams of the morning sun; on the shore the
sailors were sitting, chatting and laughing; and at ten yards from them
the boat was at anchor, undulating gracefully on the water. There for
some time he enjoyed the fresh breeze which played on his brow, and
listened to the dash of the waves on the beach, that left against the
rocks a lace of foam as white as silver. He was for some time without
reflection or thought for the divine charm which is in the things of
nature, specially after a fantastic dream; then gradually this view
of the outer world, so calm, so pure, so grand, reminded him of the
illusiveness of his vision, and once more awakened memory. He recalled
his arrival on the island, his presentation to a smuggler chief,
a subterranean palace full of splendor, an excellent supper, and a
spoonful of hashish. It seemed, however, even in the very face of open
day, that at least a year had elapsed since all these things had passed,
so deep was the impression made in his mind by the dream, and so strong
a hold had it taken of his imagination. Thus every now and then he
saw in fancy amid the sailors, seated on a rock, or undulating in the
vessel, one of the shadows which had shared his dream with looks and
kisses. Otherwise, his head was perfectly clear, and his body refreshed;
he was free from the slightest headache; on the contrary, he felt a
certain degree of lightness, a faculty for absorbing the pure air, and
enjoying the bright sunshine more vividly than ever.
He went gayly up to the sailors, who rose as soon as they perceived him;
and the patron, accosting him, said, "The Signor Sinbad has left his
compliments for your excellency, and desires us to express the regret he
feels at not being able to take his leave in person; but he trusts you
will excuse him, as very important business calls him to Malaga."
"So, then, Gaetano," said Franz, "this is, then, all reality; there
exists a man who has received me in this island, entertained me right
royally, and his departed while I was asleep?"
"He exists as certainly as that you may see his small yacht with all
her sails spread; and if you will use your glass, you will, in all
probability, recognize your host in the midst of his crew." So saying,
Gaetano pointed in a direction in which a small vessel was making sail
towards the southern point of Corsica. Franz adjusted his telescope, and
directed it towards the yacht. Gaetano was not mistaken. At the stern
the mysterious stranger was standing up looking towards the shore, and
holding a spy-glass in his hand. He was attired as he had been on the
previous evening, and waved his pocket-handkerchief to his guest in
token of adieu. Franz returned the salute by shaking his handkerchief as
an exchange of signals. After a second, a slight cloud of smoke was seen
at the stern of the vessel, which rose gracefully as it expanded in
the air, and then Franz heard a slight report. "There, do you hear?"
observed Gaetano; "he is bidding you adieu." The young man took his
carbine and fired it in the air, but without any idea that the noise
could be heard at the distance which separated the yacht from the shore.
"What are your excellency's orders?" inquired Gaetano.
"In the first place, light me a torch."
"Ah, yes, I understand," replied the patron, "to find the entrance to
the enchanted apartment. With much pleasure, your excellency, if it
would amuse you; and I will get you the torch you ask for. But I too
have had the idea you have, and two or three times the same fancy has
come over me; but I have always given it up. Giovanni, light a torch,"
he added, "and give it to his excellency."
Giovanni obeyed. Franz took the lamp, and entered the subterranean
grotto, followed by Gaetano. He recognized the place where he had awaked
by the bed of heather that was there; but it was in vain that he carried
his torch all round the exterior surface of the grotto. He saw nothing,
unless that, by traces of smoke, others had before him attempted the
same thing, and, like him, in vain. Yet he did not leave a foot of this
granite wall, as impenetrable as futurity, without strict scrutiny; he
did not see a fissure without introducing the blade of his hunting sword
into it, or a projecting point on which he did not lean and press in
the hopes it would give way. All was vain; and he lost two hours in his
attempts, which were at last utterly useless. At the end of this time he
gave up his search, and Gaetano smiled.
When Franz appeared again on the shore, the yacht only seemed like a
small white speck on the horizon. He looked again through his glass, but
even then he could not distinguish anything. Gaetano reminded him that
he had come for the purpose of shooting goats, which he had utterly
forgotten. He took his fowling-piece, and began to hunt over the island
with the air of a man who is fulfilling a duty, rather than enjoying a
pleasure; and at the end of a quarter of an hour he had killed a goat
and two kids. These animals, though wild and agile as chamois, were too
much like domestic goats, and Franz could not consider them as game.
Moreover, other ideas, much more enthralling, occupied his mind. Since,
the evening before, he had really been the hero of one of the tales of
the "Thousand and One Nights," and he was irresistibly attracted towards
the grotto. Then, in spite of the failure of his first search, he began
a second, after having told Gaetano to roast one of the two kids. The
second visit was a long one, and when he returned the kid was roasted
and the repast ready. Franz was sitting on the spot where he was on the
previous evening when his mysterious host had invited him to supper; and
he saw the little yacht, now like a sea-gull on the wave, continuing her
flight towards Corsica. "Why," he remarked to Gaetano, "you told me that
Signor Sinbad was going to Malaga, while it seems he is in the direction
of Porto-Vecchio."
"Don't you remember," said the patron, "I told you that among the crew
there were two Corsican brigands?"
"True; and he is going to land them," added Franz.
"Precisely so," replied Gaetano. "Ah, he is one who fears neither God
nor Satan, they say, and would at any time run fifty leagues out of his
course to do a poor devil a service."
"But such services as these might involve him with the authorities
of the country in which he practices this kind of philanthropy," said
Franz.
"And what cares he for that," replied Gaetano with a laugh, "or any
authorities? He smiles at them. Let them try to pursue him! Why, in the
first place, his yacht is not a ship, but a bird, and he would beat any
frigate three knots in every nine; and if he were to throw himself on
the coast, why, is he not certain of finding friends everywhere?"
It was perfectly clear that the Signor Sinbad, Franz's host, had the
honor of being on excellent terms with the smugglers and bandits
along the whole coast of the Mediterranean, and so enjoyed exceptional
privileges. As to Franz, he had no longer any inducement to remain
at Monte Cristo. He had lost all hope of detecting the secret of the
grotto; he consequently despatched his breakfast, and, his boat being
ready, he hastened on board, and they were soon under way. At the
moment the boat began her course they lost sight of the yacht, as it
disappeared in the gulf of Porto-Vecchio. With it was effaced the
last trace of the preceding night; and then supper, Sinbad, hashish,
statues,--all became a dream for Franz. The boat sailed on all day and
all night, and next morning, when the sun rose, they had lost sight of
Monte Cristo. When Franz had once again set foot on shore, he forgot,
for the moment at least, the events which had just passed, while he
finished his affairs of pleasure at Florence, and then thought of
nothing but how he should rejoin his companion, who was awaiting him at
Rome.
He set out, and on the Saturday evening reached the Eternal City by the
mail-coach. An apartment, as we have said, had been retained beforehand,
and thus he had but to go to Signor Pastrini's hotel. But this was not
so easy a matter, for the streets were thronged with people, and Rome
was already a prey to that low and feverish murmur which precedes
all great events; and at Rome there are four great events in every
year,--the Carnival, Holy Week, Corpus Christi, and the Feast of St.
Peter. All the rest of the year the city is in that state of dull
apathy, between life and death, which renders it similar to a kind of
station between this world and the next--a sublime spot, a resting-place
full of poetry and character, and at which Franz had already halted five
or six times, and at each time found it more marvellous and striking. At
last he made his way through the mob, which was continually increasing
and getting more and more turbulent, and reached the hotel. On his
first inquiry he was told, with the impertinence peculiar to hired
hackney-coachmen and inn-keepers with their houses full, that there was
no room for him at the Hotel de Londres. Then he sent his card to Signor
Pastrini, and asked for Albert de Morcerf. This plan succeeded; and
Signor Pastrini himself ran to him, excusing himself for having made his
excellency wait, scolding the waiters, taking the candlestick from the
porter, who was ready to pounce on the traveller and was about to lead
him to Albert, when Morcerf himself appeared.
The apartment consisted of two small rooms and a parlor. The two rooms
looked onto the street--a fact which Signor Pastrini commented upon as
an inappreciable advantage. The rest of the floor was hired by a very
rich gentleman who was supposed to be a Sicilian or Maltese; but the
host was unable to decide to which of the two nations the traveller
belonged. "Very good, signor Pastrini," said Franz; "but we must have
some supper instantly, and a carriage for tomorrow and the following
days."
"As to supper," replied the landlord, "you shall be served immediately;
but as for the carriage"--
"What as to the carriage?" exclaimed Albert. "Come, come, Signor
Pastrini, no joking; we must have a carriage."
"Sir," replied the host, "we will do all in our power to procure you
one--this is all I can say."
"And when shall we know?" inquired Franz.
"To-morrow morning," answered the inn-keeper.
"Oh, the deuce! then we shall pay the more, that's all, I see plainly
enough. At Drake's or Aaron's one pays twenty-five lire for common days,
and thirty or thirty-five lire a day more for Sundays and feast days;
add five lire a day more for extras, that will make forty, and there's
an end of it."
"I am afraid if we offer them double that we shall not procure a
carriage."
"Then they must put horses to mine. It is a little worse for the
journey, but that's no matter."
"There are no horses." Albert looked at Franz like a man who hears a
reply he does not understand.
"Do you understand that, my dear Franz--no horses?" he said, "but can't
we have post-horses?"
"They have been all hired this fortnight, and there are none left but
those absolutely requisite for posting."
"What are we to say to this?" asked Franz.
"I say, that when a thing completely surpasses my comprehension, I am
accustomed not to dwell on that thing, but to pass to another. Is supper
ready, Signor Pastrini?"
"Yes, your excellency."
"Well, then, let us sup."
"But the carriage and horses?" said Franz.
"Be easy, my dear boy; they will come in due season; it is only a
question of how much shall be charged for them." Morcerf then, with that
