situated in the Via dei Banchi, near St. Peter's. In Rome, as
everywhere else, the arrival of a post-chaise is an event. Ten
young descendants of Marius and the Gracchi, barefooted and out at
elbows, with one hand resting on the hip and the other gracefully
curved above the head, stared at the traveller, the post-chaise,
and the horses; to these were added about fifty little vagabonds
from the Papal States, who earned a pittance by diving into the
Tiber at high water from the bridge of St. Angelo. Now, as these
street Arabs of Rome, more fortunate than those of Paris,
understand every language, more especially the French, they heard
the traveller order an apartment, a dinner, and finally inquire the
way to the house of Thomson & French. The result was that when
the new-comer left the hotel with the cicerone, a man detached
himself from the rest of the idlers, and without having been seen
by the traveller, and appearing to excite no attention from the
guide, followed the stranger with as much skill as a Parisian
police agent would have used.
The Frenchman had been so impatient to reach the house of
Thomson & French that he would not wait for the horses to be
harnessed, but left word for the carriage to overtake him on the
road, or to wait for him at the bankers' door. He reached it before
the carriage arrived. The Frenchman entered, leaving in the
anteroom his guide, who immediately entered into conversation with
two or three of the industrious idlers who are always to be found
in Rome at the doors of banking-houses, churches, museums, or
theatres. With the Frenchman, the man who had followed him entered
too; the Frenchman knocked at the inner door, and entered the first
room; his shadow did the same.
"Messrs. Thomson & French?" inquired the stranger.
An attendant arose at a sign from a confidential clerk at the
first desk. "Whom shall I announce?" said the attendant.
"Baron Danglars."
"Follow me," said the man. A door opened, through which the
attendant and the baron disappeared. The man who had followedattendant and the baron disappeared. The man who had followed
Danglars sat down on a bench. The clerk continued to write for the
next five minutes; the man preserved profound silence, and remained
perfectly motionless. Then the pen of the clerk ceased to move over
the paper; he raised his head, and appearing to be perfectly sure
of privacy, — "Ah, ha," he said, "here you are, Peppino!"
"Yes," was the laconic reply. "You have found out that there is
something worth having about this large gentleman?"
"There is no great merit due to me, for we were informed of
it."
"You know his business here, then."
"Pardieu, he has come to draw, but I don't know how much!"
"You will know presently, my friend."
"Very well, only do not give me false information as you did the
other day."
"What do you mean? — of whom do you speak? Was it the Englishman
who carried off 3,000 crowns from here the other day?"
"No; he really had 3,000 crowns, and we found them. I mean the
Russian prince, who you said had 30,000 livres, and we only found
22,000."
"You must have searched badly."
"Luigi Vampa himself searched."
"Indeed? But you must let me make my observations, or the
Frenchman will transact his business without my knowing the sum."
Peppino nodded, and taking a rosary from his pocket began to mutter
a few prayers while the clerk disappeared through the same door by
which Danglars and the attendant had gone out. At the expiration of
ten minutes the clerk returned with a beaming countenance. "Well?"
asked Peppino of his friend.
"Joy, joy — the sum is large!"
"Five or six millions, is it not?"
"Yes, you know the amount."
"On the receipt of the Count of Monte Cristo?"
"Why, how came you to be so well acquainted with all this?"
"I told you we were informed beforehand."
"Then why do you apply to me?"
"That I may be sure I have the right man."
"Yes, it is indeed he. Five millions — a pretty sum, eh,
Peppino?"
"Hush — here is our man!" The clerk seized his pen, and Peppino
his beads; one was writing and the other praying when the doorhis beads; one was writing and the other praying when the door
opened. Danglars looked radiant with joy; the banker accompanied
him to the door. Peppino followed Danglars.
According to the arrangements, the carriage was waiting at the
door. The guide held the door open. Guides are useful people, who
will turn their hands to anything. Danglars leaped into the
carriage like a young man of twenty. The cicerone reclosed the
door, and sprang up by the side of the coachman. Peppino mounted
the seat behind.
"Will your excellency visit St. Peter's?" asked the
cicerone.
"I did not come to Rome to see," said Danglars aloud; then he
added softly, with an avaricious smile, "I came to touch!" and he
rapped his pocket-book, in which he had just placed a letter.
"Then your excellency is going" —
"To the hotel."
"Casa Pastrini!" said the cicerone to the coachman, and the
carriage drove rapidly on. Ten minutes afterwards the baron entered
his apartment, and Peppino stationed himself on the bench outside
the door of the hotel, after having whispered something in the ear
of one of the descendants of Marius and the Gracchi whom we noticed
at the beginning of the chapter, who immediately ran down the road
leading to the Capitol at his fullest speed. Danglars was tired and
sleepy; he therefore went to bed, placing his pocketbook under his
pillow. Peppino had a little spare time, so he had a game of mora
with the facchini, lost three crowns, and then to console himself
drank a bottle of Orvieto.
The next morning Danglars awoke late, though he went to bed so
early; he had not slept well for five or six nights, even if he had
slept at all. He breakfasted heartily, and caring little, as he
said, for the beauties of the Eternal City, ordered post-horses at
noon. But Danglars had not reckoned upon the formalities of the
police and the idleness of the posting-master. The horses only
arrived at two o'clock, and the cicerone did not bring the passport
till three. All these preparations had collected a number of idlers