Peppino; "You have paid two louis in advance."
"What? One hundred thousand francs for a loaf?"
"One hundred thousand francs," repeated Peppino.
"But you only asked 100,000 francs for a fowl!"
"We have a fixed price for all our provisions. It signifies
nothing whether you eat much or little — whether you have ten
dishes or one — it is always the same price."
"What, still keeping up this silly jest? My dear fellow, it is
perfectly ridiculous — stupid! You had better tell me at once that
you intend starving me to death."
"Oh, dear, no, your excellency, unless you intend to commit
suicide. Pay and eat."
"And what am I to pay with, brute?" said Danglars, enraged. "Do
you suppose I carry 100,000 francs in my pocket?"
"Your excellency has 5,050,000 francs in your pocket; that will
be fifty fowls at 100,000 francs apiece, and half a fowl for the
50,000."
Danglars shuddered. The bandage fell from his eyes, and he
understood the joke, which he did not think quite so stupid as he
had done just before. "Come," he said, "if I pay you the 100,000
francs, will you be satisfied, and allow me to eat at my ease?"
"Certainly," said Peppino.
"But how can I pay them?"
"Oh, nothing easier; you have an account open with Messrs.
Thomson & French, Via dei Banchi, Rome; give me a draft for
4,998 louis on these gentlemen, and our banker shall take it."
Danglars thought it as well to comply with a good grace, so he took
the pen, ink, and paper Peppino offered him, wrote the draft, and
signed it. "Here," he said, "here is a draft at sight."
"And here is your fowl." Danglars sighed while he carved the
fowl; it appeared very thin for the price it had cost. As for
Peppino, he examined the paper attentively, put it into his pocket,
and continued eating his pease.It was about six o'clock in the evening; an opal-colored light,
through which an autumnal sun shed its golden rays, descended on
the blue ocean. The heat of the day had gradually decreased, and a
light breeze arose, seeming like the respiration of nature on
awakening from the burning siesta of the south. A delicious zephyr
played along the coasts of the Mediterranean, and wafted from shore
to shore the sweet perfume of plants, mingled with the fresh smell
of the sea.
A light yacht, chaste and elegant in its form, was gliding
amidst the first dews of night over the immense lake, extending
from Gibraltar to the Dardanelles, and from Tunis to Venice. The
vessel resembled a swan with its wings opened towards the wind,
gliding on the water. It advanced swiftly and gracefully, leaving
behind it a glittering stretch of foam. By degrees the sun
disappeared behind the western horizon; but as though to prove the
truth of the fanciful ideas in heathen mythology, its indiscreet
rays reappeared on the summit of every wave, as if the god of fire
had just sunk upon the bosom of Amphitrite, who in vain endeavored
to hide her lover beneath her azure mantle. The yacht moved rapidly
on, though there did not appear to be sufficient wind to ruffle the
curls on the head of a young girl. Standing on the prow was a tall
man, of a dark complexion, who saw with dilating eyes that they
were approaching a dark mass of land in the shape of a cone, which
rose from the midst of the waves like the hat of a Catalan. "Is
that Monte Cristo?" asked the traveller, to whose orders the yacht
was for the time submitted, in a melancholy voice.
"Yes, your excellency," said the captain, "we have reached
it."
"We have reached it!" repeated the traveller in an accent of
indescribable sadness. Then he added, in a low tone, "Yes; that is
the haven." And then he again plunged into a train of thought, the
character of which was better revealed by a sad smile, than it
would have been by tears. A few minutes afterwards a flash ofwould have been by tears. A few minutes afterwards a flash of
light, which was extinguished instantly, was seen on the land, and
the sound of firearms reached the yacht.
"Your excellency," said the captain, "that was the land signal,
will you answer yourself?"
"What signal?" The captain pointed towards the island, up the
side of which ascended a volume of smoke, increasing as it rose.
"Ah, yes," he said, as if awaking from a dream. "Give it to
me."
The captain gave him a loaded carbine; the traveller slowly
raised it, and fired in the air. Ten minutes afterwards, the sails
were furled, and they cast anchor about a hundred fathoms from the
little harbor. The gig was already lowered, and in it were four
oarsmen and a coxswain. The traveller descended, and instead of
sitting down at the stern of the boat, which had been decorated
with a blue carpet for his accommodation, stood up with his arms
crossed. The rowers waited, their oars half lifted out of the
water, like birds drying their wings.
"Give way," said the traveller. The eight oars fell into the sea
simultaneously without splashing a drop of water, and the boat,
yielding to the impulsion, glided forward. In an instant they found
themselves in a little harbor, formed in a natural creek; the boat
grounded on the fine sand.
"Will your excellency be so good as to mount the shoulders of
two of our men, they will carry you ashore?" The young man answered
this invitation with a gesture of indifference, and stepped out of
the boat; the sea immediately rose to his waist. "Ah, your
excellency," murmured the pilot, "you should not have done so; our
master will scold us for it." The young man continued to advance,
following the sailors, who chose a firm footing. Thirty strides
brought them to dry land; the young man stamped on the ground to
shake off the wet, and looked around for some one to show him his
road, for it was quite dark. Just as he turned, a hand rested on
his shoulder, and a voice which made him shudder exclaimed, —