till three. All these preparations had collected a number of idlers
round the door of Signor Pastrini's; the descendants of Marius and
the Gracchi were also not wanting. The baron walked triumphantly
through the crowd, who for the sake of gain styled him "your
excellency." As Danglars had hitherto contented himself with being
called a baron, he felt rather flattered at the title of
excellency, and distributed a dozen silver coins among the beggars,
who were ready, for twelve more, to call him "your highness."
"Which road?" asked the postilion in Italian. "The Ancona road,"
replied the baron. Signor Pastrini interpreted the question and
answer, and the horses galloped off. Danglars intended travelling
to Venice, where he would receive one part of his fortune, and then
proceeding to Vienna, where he would find the rest, he meant to
take up his residence in the latter town, which he had been told
was a city of pleasure.
He had scarcely advanced three leagues out of Rome when daylight
began to disappear. Danglars had not intended starting so late, or
he would have remained; he put his head out and asked the postilion
how long it would be before they reached the next town. "Non
capisco" (do not understand), was the reply. Danglars bent his
head, which he meant to imply, "Very well." The carriage again
moved on. "I will stop at the first posting-house," said Danglars
to himself.
He still felt the same self-satisfaction which he had
experienced the previous evening, and which had procured him so
good a night's rest. He was luxuriously stretched in a good English
calash, with double springs; he was drawn by four good horses, at
full gallop; he knew the relay to be at a distance of seven
leagues. What subject of meditation could present itself to the
banker, so fortunately become bankrupt?
Danglars thought for ten minutes about his wife in Paris;
another ten minutes about his daughter travelling with Mademoiselle
d'Armilly; the same period was given to his creditors, and thed'Armilly; the same period was given to his creditors, and the
manner in which he intended spending their money; and then, having
no subject left for contemplation, he shut his eyes, and fell
asleep. Now and then a jolt more violent than the rest caused him
to open his eyes; then he felt that he was still being carried with
great rapidity over the same country, thickly strewn with broken
aqueducts, which looked like granite giants petrified while running
a race. But the night was cold, dull, and rainy, and it was much
more pleasant for a traveller to remain in the warm carriage than
to put his head out of the window to make inquiries of a postilion
whose only answer was "Non capisco."
Danglars therefore continued to sleep, saying to himself that he
would be sure to awake at the posting-house. The carriage stopped.
Danglars fancied that they had reached the long-desired point; he
opened his eyes and looked through the window, expecting to find
himself in the midst of some town, or at least village; but he saw
nothing except what seemed like a ruin, where three or four men
went and came like shadows. Danglars waited a moment, expecting the
postilion to come and demand payment with the termination of his
stage. He intended taking advantage of the opportunity to make
fresh inquiries of the new conductor; but the horses were
unharnessed, and others put in their places, without any one
claiming money from the traveller. Danglars, astonished, opened the
door; but a strong hand pushed him back, and the carriage rolled
on. The baron was completely roused. "Eh?" he said to the
postilion, "eh, mio caro?"
This was another little piece of Italian the baron had learned
from hearing his daughter sing Italian duets with Cavalcanti. But
mio caro did not reply. Danglars then opened the window.
"Come, my friend," he said, thrusting his hand through the
opening, "where are we going?"
"Dentro la testa!" answered a solemn and imperious voice,
accompanied by a menacing gesture. Danglars thought dentro la testaaccompanied by a menacing gesture. Danglars thought dentro la testa
meant, "Put in your head!" He was making rapid progress in Italian.
He obeyed, not without some uneasiness, which, momentarily
increasing, caused his mind, instead of being as unoccupied as it
was when he began his journey, to fill with ideas which were very
likely to keep a traveller awake, more especially one in such a
situation as Danglars. His eyes acquired that quality which in the
first moment of strong emotion enables them to see distinctly, and
which afterwards fails from being too much taxed. Before we are
alarmed, we see correctly; when we are alarmed, we see double; and
when we have been alarmed, we see nothing but trouble. Danglars
observed a man in a cloak galloping at the right hand of the
carriage.
"Some gendarme!" he exclaimed. "Can I have been intercepted by
French telegrams to the pontifical authorities?" He resolved to end
his anxiety. "Where are you taking me?" he asked. "Dentro la
testa," replied the same voice, with the same menacing accent.
Danglars turned to the left; another man on horseback was
galloping on that side. "Decidedly," said Danglars, with the
perspiration on his forehead, "I must be under arrest." And he
threw himself back in the calash, not this time to sleep, but to
think. Directly afterwards the moon rose. He then saw the great
aqueducts, those stone phantoms which he had before remarked, only
then they were on the right hand, now they were on the left. He
understood that they had described a circle, and were bringing him
back to Rome. "Oh, unfortunate!" he cried, "they must have obtained
my arrest." The carriage continued to roll on with frightful speed.
An hour of terror elapsed, for every spot they passed showed that
they were on the road back. At length he saw a dark mass, against
which it seemed as if the carriage was about to dash; but the
vehicle turned to one side, leaving the barrier behind and Danglars
saw that it was one of the ramparts encircling Rome.