with much ease and grace — "yes, he is a poor devil who is much
devoted to me, and does all he can to prove it. He remembers that I
saved his life, and as he has a regard for his head, he feels some
gratitude towards me for having kept it on his shoulders." Ali
approached his master, took his hand, and kissed it.
"Would it be impertinent, Signor Sinbad," said Franz, "to ask
you the particulars of this kindness?"
"Oh, they are simple enough," replied the host. "It seems the
fellow had been caught wandering nearer to the harem of the Bey of
Tunis than etiquette permits to one of his color, and he was
condemned by the bey to have his tongue cut out, and his hand and
head cut off; the tongue the first day, the hand the second, and
the head the third. I always had a desire to have a mute in my
service, so learning the day his tongue was cut out, I went to the
bey, and proposed to give him for Ali a splendid double-barreled
gun which I knew he was very desirous of having. He hesitated a
moment, he was so very desirous to complete the poor devil's
punishment. But when I added to the gun an English cutlass with
which I had shivered his highness's yataghan to pieces, the bey
yielded, and agreed to forgive the hand and head, but on condition
that the poor fellow never again set foot in Tunis. This was a
useless clause in the bargain, for whenever the coward sees the
first glimpse of the shores of Africa, he runs down below, and can
only be induced to appear again when we are out of sight of that
quarter of the globe."
Franz remained a moment silent and pensive, hardly knowing what
to think of the half-kindness, half-cruelty, with which his host
related the brief narrative. "And like the celebrated sailor whose
name you have assumed," he said, by way of changing the
conversation, "you pass your life in travelling?"
"Yes. I made a vow at a time when I little thought I should ever
be able to accomplish it," said the unknown with a singular smile;
"and I made some others also which I hope I may fulfil in due"and I made some others also which I hope I may fulfil in due
season." Although Sinbad pronounced these words with much calmness,
his eyes gave forth gleams of extraordinary ferocity.
"You have suffered a great deal, sir?" said Franz
inquiringly.
Sinbad started and looked fixedly at him, as he replied, "What
makes you suppose so?"
"Everything," answered Franz, — "your voice, your look, your
pallid complexion, and even the life you lead."
"I? — I live the happiest life possible, the real life of a
pasha. I am king of all creation. I am pleased with one place, and
stay there; I get tired of it, and leave it; I am free as a bird
and have wings like one; my attendants obey my slightest wish.
Sometimes I amuse myself by delivering some bandit or criminal from
the bonds of the law. Then I have my mode of dispensing justice,
silent and sure, without respite or appeal, which condemns or
pardons, and which no one sees. Ah, if you had tasted my life, you
would not desire any other, and would never return to the world
unless you had some great project to accomplish there."
"Revenge, for instance!" observed Franz.
The unknown fixed on the young man one of those looks which
penetrate into the depth of the heart and thoughts. "And why
revenge?" he asked.
"Because," replied Franz, "you seem to me like a man who,
persecuted by society, has a fearful account to settle with
it."
"Ah," responded Sinbad, laughing with his singular laugh which
displayed his white and sharp teeth. "You have not guessed rightly.
Such as you see me I am, a sort of philosopher, and one day perhaps
I shall go to Paris to rival Monsieur Appert, and the little man in
the blue cloak."
"And will that be the first time you ever took that
journey?"
"Yes; it will. I must seem to you by no means curious, but I
assure you that it is not my fault I have delayed it so long — it
will happen one day or the other."
"And do you propose to make this journey very shortly?"
"I do not know; it depends on circumstances which depend on
certain arrangements.""I do not know; it depends on circumstances which depend on
certain arrangements."
"I should like to be there at the time you come, and I will
endeavor to repay you, as far as lies in my power, for your liberal
hospitality displayed to me at Monte Cristo."
"I should avail myself of your offer with pleasure," replied the
host, "but, unfortunately, if I go there, it will be, in all
probability, incognito."
The supper appeared to have been supplied solely for Franz, for
the unknown scarcely touched one or two dishes of the splendid
banquet to which his guest did ample justice. Then Ali brought on
the dessert, or rather took the baskets from the hands of the
statues and placed them on the table. Between the two baskets he
placed a small silver cup with a silver cover. The care with which
Ali placed this cup on the table roused Franz's curiosity. He
raised the cover and saw a kind of greenish paste, something like
preserved angelica, but which was perfectly unknown to him. He
replaced the lid, as ignorant of what the cup contained as he was
before he had looked at it, and then casting his eyes towards his
host he saw him smile at his disappointment. "You cannot guess,"
said he, "what there is in that small vase, can you?"
"No, I really cannot."
"Well, then, that green preserve is nothing less than the
ambrosia which Hebe served at the table of Jupiter."
"But," replied Franz, "this ambrosia, no doubt, in passing
through mortal hands has lost its heavenly appellation and assumed
a human name; in vulgar phrase, what may you term this composition,
for which, to tell the truth, I do not feel any particular
desire?"
"Ah, thus it is that our material origin is revealed," cried
Sinbad; "we frequently pass so near to happiness without seeing,
without regarding it, or if we do see and regard it, yet without
recognizing it. Are you a man for the substantials, and is gold
your god? taste this, and the mines of Peru, Guzerat, and Golconda
are opened to you. Are you a man of imagination — a poet? taste