round, seated himself at the foot of a column, and immediately opposite
a large aperture, which permitted him to enjoy a full and undisturbed
view of the gigantic dimensions of the majestic ruin.
Franz had remained for nearly a quarter of an hour perfectly hidden
by the shadow of the vast column at whose base he had found a
resting-place, and from whence his eyes followed the motions of Albert
and his guides, who, holding torches in their hands, had emerged from
a vomitarium at the opposite extremity of the Colosseum, and then again
disappeared down the steps conducting to the seats reserved for the
Vestal virgins, resembling, as they glided along, some restless shades
following the flickering glare of so many ignes-fatui. All at once his
ear caught a sound resembling that of a stone rolling down the staircase
opposite the one by which he had himself ascended. There was nothing
remarkable in the circumstance of a fragment of granite giving way and
falling heavily below; but it seemed to him that the substance that fell
gave way beneath the pressure of a foot, and also that some one, who
endeavored as much as possible to prevent his footsteps from being
heard, was approaching the spot where he sat. Conjecture soon became
certainty, for the figure of a man was distinctly visible to Franz,
gradually emerging from the staircase opposite, upon which the moon was
at that moment pouring a full tide of silvery brightness.
The stranger thus presenting himself was probably a person who, like
Franz, preferred the enjoyment of solitude and his own thoughts to
the frivolous gabble of the guides. And his appearance had nothing
extraordinary in it; but the hesitation with which he proceeded,
stopping and listening with anxious attention at every step he took,
convinced Franz that he expected the arrival of some person. By a sort
of instinctive impulse, Franz withdrew as much as possible behind his
pillar. About ten feet from the spot where he and the stranger were, the
roof had given way, leaving a large round opening, through which might
be seen the blue vault of heaven, thickly studded with stars. Around
this opening, which had, possibly, for ages permitted a free entrance
to the brilliant moonbeams that now illumined the vast pile, grew a
quantity of creeping plants, whose delicate green branches stood out in
bold relief against the clear azure of the firmament, while large masses
of thick, strong fibrous shoots forced their way through the chasm, and
hung floating to and fro, like so many waving strings. The person whose
mysterious arrival had attracted the attention of Franz stood in a kind
of half-light, that rendered it impossible to distinguish his features,
although his dress was easily made out. He wore a large brown mantle,
one fold of which, thrown over his left shoulder, served likewise
to mask the lower part of his countenance, while the upper part was
completely hidden by his broad-brimmed hat. The lower part of his dress
was more distinctly visible by the bright rays of the moon, which,
entering through the broken ceiling, shed their refulgent beams on feet
cased in elegantly made boots of polished leather, over which descended
fashionably cut trousers of black cloth.
From the imperfect means Franz had of judging, he could only come to
one conclusion,--that the person whom he was thus watching certainly
belonged to no inferior station of life. Some few minutes had elapsed,
and the stranger began to show manifest signs of impatience, when a
slight noise was heard outside the aperture in the roof, and almost
immediately a dark shadow seemed to obstruct the flood of light that had
entered it, and the figure of a man was clearly seen gazing with eager
scrutiny on the immense space beneath him; then, as his eye caught
sight of him in the mantle, he grasped a floating mass of thickly matted
boughs, and glided down by their help to within three or four feet
of the ground, and then leaped lightly on his feet. The man who had
performed this daring act with so much indifference wore the Transtevere
costume. "I beg your excellency's pardon for keeping you waiting," said
the man, in the Roman dialect, "but I don't think I'm many minutes after
my time, ten o'clock has just struck on the Lateran."
"Say not a word about being late," replied the stranger in purest
Tuscan; "'tis I who am too soon. But even if you had caused me to wait
a little while, I should have felt quite sure that the delay was not
occasioned by any fault of yours."
"Your excellency is perfectly right in so thinking," said the man; "I
came here direct from the Castle of St. Angelo, and I had an immense
deal of trouble before I could get a chance to speak to Beppo."
"And who is Beppo?"
"Oh, Beppo is employed in the prison, and I give him so much a year to
let me know what is going on within his holiness's castle."
"Indeed! You are a provident person, I see."
"Why, you see, no one knows what may happen. Perhaps some of these days
I may be entrapped, like poor Peppino and may be very glad to have some
little nibbling mouse to gnaw the meshes of my net, and so help me out
of prison."
"Briefly, what did you glean?"
"That two executions of considerable interest will take place the
day after to-morrow at two o'clock, as is customary at Rome at the
commencement of all great festivals. One of the culprits will be
mazzolato; [*] he is an atrocious villain, who murdered the priest who
brought him up, and deserves not the smallest pity. The other sufferer
is sentenced to be decapitato; [**] and he, your excellency, is poor
Peppino."
* Knocked on the head.
** Beheaded.
"The fact is, that you have inspired not only the pontifical government,
but also the neighboring states, with such extreme fear, that they are
glad of all opportunity of making an example."
"But Peppino did not even belong to my band: he was merely a poor
shepherd, whose only crime consisted in furnishing us with provisions."
"Which makes him your accomplice to all intents and purposes. But mark
the distinction with which he is treated; instead of being knocked on
the head as you would be if once they caught hold of you, he is simply
sentenced to be guillotined, by which means, too, the amusements of
the day are diversified, and there is a spectacle to please every
spectator."
"Without reckoning the wholly unexpected one I am preparing to surprise
them with."
"My good friend," said the man in the cloak, "excuse me for saying that
you seem to me precisely in the mood to commit some wild or extravagant
act."
"Perhaps I am; but one thing I have resolved on, and that is, to stop at
nothing to restore a poor devil to liberty, who has got into this scrape
solely from having served me. I should hate and despise myself as a
coward did I desert the brave fellow in his present extremity."
"And what do you mean to do?"
"To surround the scaffold with twenty of my best men, who, at a signal
from me, will rush forward directly Peppino is brought for execution,
and, by the assistance of their stilettos, drive back the guard, and
carry off the prisoner."
"That seems to me as hazardous as uncertain, and convinces me that my
scheme is far better than yours."
"And what is your excellency's project?"
"Just this. I will so advantageously bestow 2,000 piastres, that the
person receiving them shall obtain a respite till next year for Peppino;
and during that year, another skilfully placed 1,000 piastres will
afford him the means of escaping from his prison."
"And do you feel sure of succeeding?"
"Pardieu!" exclaimed the man in the cloak, suddenly expressing himself
in French.
"What did your excellency say?" inquired the other.
"I said, my good fellow, that I would do more single-handed by the
means of gold than you and all your troop could effect with stilettos,
pistols, carbines, and blunderbusses included. Leave me, then, to act,
and have no fears for the result."
"At least, there can be no harm in myself and party being in readiness,
in case your excellency should fail."
"None whatever. Take what precautions you please, if it is any
satisfaction to you to do so; but rely upon my obtaining the reprieve I
seek."
"Remember, the execution is fixed for the day after tomorrow, and that
you have but one day to work in."
"And what of that? Is not a day divided into twenty-four hours, each
hour into sixty minutes, and every minute sub-divided into sixty
seconds? Now in 86,400 seconds very many things can be done."
"And how shall I know whether your excellency has succeeded or not."
"Oh, that is very easily arranged. I have engaged the three lower
windows at the Cafe Rospoli; should I have obtained the requisite pardon
for Peppino, the two outside windows will be hung with yellow damasks,
and the centre with white, having a large cross in red marked on it."
"And whom will you employ to carry the reprieve to the officer directing
the execution?"
"Send one of your men, disguised as a penitent friar, and I will give it
to him. His dress will procure him the means of approaching the scaffold
itself, and he will deliver the official order to the officer, who, in
his turn, will hand it to the executioner; in the meantime, it will be
as well to acquaint Peppino with what we have determined on, if it
be only to prevent his dying of fear or losing his senses, because in
either case a very useless expense will have been incurred."
"Your excellency," said the man, "you are fully persuaded of my entire
devotion to you, are you not?"
"Nay, I flatter myself that there can be no doubt of it," replied the
cavalier in the cloak.
"Well, then, only fulfil your promise of rescuing Peppino, and
henceforward you shall receive not only devotion, but the most absolute
obedience from myself and those under me that one human being can render
to another."
"Have a care how far you pledge yourself, my good friend, for I may
remind you of your promise at some, perhaps, not very distant period,
when I, in my turn, may require your aid and influence."
"Let that day come sooner or later, your excellency will find me what
I have found you in this my heavy trouble; and if from the other end
of the world you but write me word to do such or such a thing, you may
regard it as done, for done it shall be, on the word and faith of"--
"Hush!" interrupted the stranger; "I hear a noise."
"'Tis some travellers, who are visiting the Colosseum by torchlight."
"'Twere better we should not be seen together; those guides are nothing
but spies, and might possibly recognize you; and, however I may be
honored by your friendship, my worthy friend, if once the extent of our
intimacy were known, I am sadly afraid both my reputation and credit
would suffer thereby."
"Well, then, if you obtain the reprieve?"
"The middle window at the Cafe Rospoli will be hung with white damask,
bearing a red cross."
"And if you fail?"
"Then all three windows will have yellow draperies."
"And then?"
"And then, my good fellow, use your daggers in any way you please, and I
further promise you to be there as a spectator of your prowess."
"We understand each other perfectly, then. Adieu, your excellency;
depend upon me as firmly as I do upon you."
Saying these words, the Transteverin disappeared down the staircase,
while his companion, muffling his features more closely than before in
the folds of his mantle, passed almost close to Franz, and descended
to the arena by an outward flight of steps. The next minute Franz heard
himself called by Albert, who made the lofty building re-echo with the
sound of his friend's name. Franz, however, did not obey the summons
till he had satisfied himself that the two men whose conversation he had
overheard were at a sufficient distance to prevent his encountering them
in his descent. In ten minutes after the strangers had departed,
Franz was on the road to the Piazza de Spagni, listening with studied
indifference to the learned dissertation delivered by Albert, after the
manner of Pliny and Calpurnius, touching the iron-pointed nets used to
prevent the ferocious beasts from springing on the spectators. Franz let
him proceed without interruption, and, in fact, did not hear what
was said; he longed to be alone, and free to ponder over all that had
occurred. One of the two men, whose mysterious meeting in the Colosseum
he had so unintentionally witnessed, was an entire stranger to him, but
not so the other; and though Franz had been unable to distinguish his
features, from his being either wrapped in his mantle or obscured by the
shadow, the tones of his voice had made too powerful an impression on
him the first time he had heard them for him ever again to forget them,
hear them when or where he might. It was more especially when this man
was speaking in a manner half jesting, half bitter, that Franz's ear
recalled most vividly the deep sonorous, yet well-pitched voice that had
addressed him in the grotto of Monte Cristo, and which he heard for the
second time amid the darkness and ruined grandeur of the Colosseum. And
the more he thought, the more entire was his conviction, that the person
who wore the mantle was no other than his former host and entertainer,
"Sinbad the Sailor."
Under any other circumstances, Franz would have found it impossible to
resist his extreme curiosity to know more of so singular a personage,
and with that intent have sought to renew their short acquaintance; but
in the present instance, the confidential nature of the conversation
he had overheard made him, with propriety, judge that his appearance at
