"What influence can I possibly have over a bandit?"
"Have you not just rendered him a service that can never be forgotten?"
"What is that?"
"Have you not saved Peppino's life?"
"Well, well," said the count, "who told you that?"
"No matter; I know it." The count knit his brows, and remained silent an
instant. "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."
"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 Paola;
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 any one 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 shall we wait awhile?"
"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.
"Who comes there?" cried the sentinel, who was less abstracted, and who
saw by the lamp-light a shadow approaching his chief. At this challenge,
Vampa rose quickly, drawing at the same moment a pistol from his girdle.
In a moment all the bandits were on their feet, and twenty carbines were
levelled at the count. "Well," said he in a voice perfectly calm, and no
muscle of his countenance disturbed, "well, my dear Vampa, it appears to
me that you receive a friend with a great deal of ceremony."
"Ground arms," exclaimed the chief, with an imperative sign of the hand,
while with the other he took off his hat respectfully; then, turning to
the singular personage who had caused this scene, he said, "Your pardon,
your excellency, but I was so far from expecting the honor of a visit,
that I did not really recognize you."
"It seems that your memory is equally short in everything, Vampa," said
the count, "and that not only do you forget people's faces, but also the
conditions you make with them."
"What conditions have I forgotten, your excellency?" inquired the
bandit, with the air of a man who, having committed an error, is anxious
to repair it.
"Was it not agreed," asked the count, "that not only my person, but also
