appointed to take place to-day?"
"Yes, your excellency; but if your reason for inquiry is that
you may procure a window to view it from, you are much too
late."
"Oh, no," answered Franz, "I had no such intention; and even if
I had felt a wish to witness the spectacle, I might have done so
from Monte Pincio — could I not?"
"Ah!" exclaimed mine host, "I did not think it likely your
excellency would have chosen to mingle with such a rabble as are
always collected on that hill, which, indeed, they consider as
exclusively belonging to themselves."
"Very possibly I may not go," answered Franz; "but in case I
feel disposed, give me some particulars of to-day's
executions."
"What particulars would your excellency like to hear?"
"Why, the number of persons condemned to suffer, their names,
and description of the death they are to die."
"That happens just lucky, your excellency! Only a few minutes
ago they brought me the tavolettas."
"What are they?"
"Sort of wooden tablets hung up at the corners of streets the
evening before an execution, on which is pasted up a paper
containing the names of the condemned persons, their crimes, and
mode of punishment. The reason for so publicly announcing all this
is, that all good and faithful Catholics may offer up their prayers
for the unfortunate culprits, and, above all, beseech of heaven to
grant them a sincere repentance."
"And these tablets are brought to you that you may add your
prayers to those of the faithful, are they?" asked Franz somewhat
incredulously.
"Oh, dear, no, your excellency! I have not time for anybody's
affairs but my own and those of my honorable guests; but I make an
agreement with the man who pastes up the papers, and he brings them
to me as he would the playbills, that in case any person staying at
my hotel should like to witness an execution, he may obtain every
requisite information concerning the time and place etc."
"Upon my word, that is a most delicate attention on your part,
Signor Pastrini," cried Franz."Upon my word, that is a most delicate attention on your part,
Signor Pastrini," cried Franz.
"Why, your excellency," returned the landlord, chuckling and
rubbing his hands with infinite complacency, "I think I may take
upon myself to say I neglect nothing to deserve the support and
patronage of the noble visitors to this poor hotel."
"I see that plainly enough, my most excellent host, and you may
rely upon me to proclaim so striking a proof of your attention to
your guests wherever I go. Meanwhile, oblige me by a sight of one
of these tavolettas."
"Nothing can be easier than to comply with your excellency's
wish," said the landlord, opening the door of the chamber; "I have
caused one to be placed on the landing, close by your apartment."
Then, taking the tablet from the wall, he handed it to Franz, who
read as follows: —
"`The public is informed that on Wednesday, February 23d, being
the first day of the Carnival, executions will take place in the
Piazza del Popolo, by order of the Tribunal of the Rota, of two
persons, named Andrea Rondola, and Peppino, otherwise called Rocca
Priori; the former found guilty of the murder of a venerable and
exemplary priest, named Don Cesare Torlini, canon of the church of
St. John Lateran; and the latter convicted of being an accomplice
of the atrocious and sanguinary bandit, Luigi Vampa, and his band.
The first-named malefactor will be subjected to the mazzuola, the
second culprit beheaded. The prayers of all good Christians are
entreated for these unfortunate men, that it may please God to
awaken them to a sense of their guilt, and to grant them a hearty
and sincere repentance for their crimes.'"
This was precisely what Franz had heard the evening before in
the ruins of the Colosseum. No part of the programme differed, —
the names of the condemned persons, their crimes, and mode of
punishment, all agreed with his previous information. In all
probability, therefore, the Transteverin was no other than the
bandit Luigi Vampa himself, and the man shrouded in the mantle thebandit Luigi Vampa himself, and the man shrouded in the mantle the
same he had known as "Sinbad the Sailor," but who, no doubt, was
still pursuing his philanthropic expedition in Rome, as he had
already done at Porto-Vecchio and Tunis. Time was getting on,
however, and Franz deemed it advisable to awaken Albert; but at the
moment he prepared to proceed to his chamber, his friend entered
the room in perfect costume for the day. The anticipated delights
of the Carnival had so run in his head as to make him leave his
pillow long before his usual hour. "Now, my excellent Signor
Pastrini," said Franz, addressing his landlord, "since we are both
ready, do you think we may proceed at once to visit the Count of
Monte Cristo?"
"Most assuredly," replied he. "The Count of Monte Cristo is
always an early riser; and I can answer for his having been up
these two hours."
"Then you really consider we shall not be intruding if we pay
our respects to him directly?"
"Oh, I am quite sure. I will take all the blame on myself if you
find I have led you into an error."
"Well, then, if it be so, are you ready, Albert?"
"Perfectly."
"Let us go and return our best thanks for his courtesy."
"Yes, let us do so." The landlord preceded the friends across
the landing, which was all that separated them from the apartments
of the count, rang at the bell, and, upon the door being opened by
a servant, said, "I signori Francesi."
The domestic bowed respectfully, and invited them to enter. They
passed through two rooms, furnished in a luxurious manner they had
not expected to see under the roof of Signor Pastrini, and were
shown into an elegantly fitted-up drawing-room. The richest Turkey
carpets covered the floor, and the softest and most inviting
couches, easy-chairs, and sofas, offered their high-piled and
yielding cushions to such as desired repose or refreshment.
Splendid paintings by the first masters were ranged against the
walls, intermingled with magnificent trophies of war, while heavy