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Chapter 32. The Waking. When Franz returned to himself, he seemed
still to be in a dream. He thought himself in a sepulchre, into which a ray of sunlight
in pity scarcely penetrated. He stretched forth his hand, and touched stone; he rose
to his seat, and found himself lying on his bournous in a bed of dry heather, very soft
and odoriferous. The vision had fled; and as if the statues had been but shadows from
the tomb, they had vanished at his waking. He advanced several paces towards the point
whence the light came, and to all the excitement of his dream succeeded the calmness of reality.
He found that he was in a grotto, went towards the opening, and through a kind of fanlight
saw a blue sea and an azure sky. The air and water were shining in the beams of the morning
sun; on the shore the sailors were sitting, chatting and laughing; and at ten yards from
them the boat was at anchor, undulating gracefully on the water. There for some time he enjoyed
the fresh breeze which played on his brow, and listened to the dash of the waves on the
beach, that left against the rocks a lace of foam as white as silver. He was for some
time without reflection or thought for the divine charm which is in the things of nature,
specially after a fantastic dream; then gradually this view of the outer world, so calm, so
pure, so grand, reminded him of the illusiveness of his vision, and once more awakened memory.
He recalled his arrival on the island, his presentation to a smuggler chief, a subterranean
palace full of splendor, an excellent supper, and a spoonful of hashish. It seemed, however,
even in the very face of open day, that at least a year had elapsed since all these things
had passed, so deep was the impression made in his mind by the dream, and so strong a
hold had it taken of his imagination. Thus every now and then he saw in fancy amid the
sailors, seated on a rock, or undulating in the vessel, one of the shadows which had shared
his dream with looks and kisses. Otherwise, his head was perfectly clear, and his body
refreshed; he was free from the slightest headache; on the contrary, he felt a certain
degree of lightness, a faculty for absorbing the pure air, and enjoying the bright sunshine
more vividly than ever. He went gayly up to the sailors, who rose
as soon as they perceived him; and the patron, accosting him, said, "The Signor Sinbad has
left his compliments for your excellency, and desires us to express the regret he feels
at not being able to take his leave in person; but he trusts you will excuse him, as very
important business calls him to Malaga." "So, then, Gaetano," said Franz, "this is,
then, all reality; there exists a man who has received me in this island, entertained
me right royally, and his departed while I was asleep?"
"He exists as certainly as that you may see his small yacht with all her sails spread;
and if you will use your glass, you will, in all probability, recognize your host in
the midst of his crew." So saying, Gaetano pointed in a direction in which a small vessel
was making sail towards the southern point of Corsica. Franz adjusted his telescope,
and directed it towards the yacht. Gaetano was not mistaken. At the stern the mysterious
stranger was standing up looking towards the shore, and holding a spy-glass in his hand.
He was attired as he had been on the previous evening, and waved his pocket-handkerchief
to his guest in token of adieu. Franz returned the salute by shaking his handkerchief as
an exchange of signals. After a second, a slight cloud of smoke was seen at the stern
of the vessel, which rose gracefully as it expanded in the air, and then Franz heard
a slight report. "There, do you hear?" observed Gaetano; "he is bidding you adieu." The young
man took his carbine and fired it in the air, but without any idea that the noise could
be heard at the distance which separated the yacht from the shore.
"What are your excellency's orders?" inquired Gaetano.
"In the first place, light me a torch." "Ah, yes, I understand," replied the patron,
"to find the entrance to the enchanted apartment. With much pleasure, your excellency, if it
would amuse you; and I will get you the torch you ask for. But I too have had the idea you
have, and two or three times the same fancy has come over me; but I have always given
it up. Giovanni, light a torch," he added, "and give it to his excellency."
Giovanni obeyed. Franz took the lamp, and entered the subterranean grotto, followed
by Gaetano. He recognized the place where he had awaked by the bed of heather that was
there; but it was in vain that he carried his torch all round the exterior surface of
the grotto. He saw nothing, unless that, by traces of smoke, others had before him attempted
the same thing, and, like him, in vain. Yet he did not leave a foot of this granite wall,
as impenetrable as futurity, without strict scrutiny; he did not see a fissure without
introducing the blade of his hunting sword into it, or a projecting point on which he
did not lean and press in the hopes it would give way. All was vain; and he lost two hours
in his attempts, which were at last utterly useless. At the end of this time he gave up
his search, and Gaetano smiled. When Franz appeared again on the shore, the
yacht only seemed like a small white speck on the horizon. He looked again through his
glass, but even then he could not distinguish anything. Gaetano reminded him that he had
come for the purpose of shooting goats, which he had utterly forgotten. He took his fowling-piece,
and began to hunt over the island with the air of a man who is fulfilling a duty, rather
than enjoying a pleasure; and at the end of a quarter of an hour he had killed a goat
and two kids. These animals, though wild and agile as chamois, were too much like domestic
goats, and Franz could not consider them as game. Moreover, other ideas, much more enthralling,
occupied his mind. Since, the evening before, he had really been the hero of one of the
tales of the "Thousand and One Nights," and he was irresistibly attracted towards the
grotto. Then, in spite of the failure of his first search, he began a second, after having
told Gaetano to roast one of the two kids. The second visit was a long one, and when
he returned the kid was roasted and the repast ready. Franz was sitting on the spot where
he was on the previous evening when his mysterious host had invited him to supper; and he saw
the little yacht, now like a sea-gull on the wave, continuing her flight towards Corsica.
"Why," he remarked to Gaetano, "you told me that Signor Sinbad was going to Malaga, while
it seems he is in the direction of Porto-Vecchio." "Don't you remember," said the patron, "I
told you that among the crew there were two Corsican brigands?"
"True; and he is going to land them," added Franz.
"Precisely so," replied Gaetano. "Ah, he is one who fears neither God nor Satan, they
say, and would at any time run fifty leagues out of his course to do a poor devil a service."
"But such services as these might involve him with the authorities of the country in
which he practices this kind of philanthropy," said Franz.
"And what cares he for that," replied Gaetano with a laugh, "or any authorities? He smiles
at them. Let them try to pursue him! Why, in the first place, his yacht is not a ship,
but a bird, and he would beat any frigate three knots in every nine; and if he were
to throw himself on the coast, why, is he not certain of finding friends everywhere?"
It was perfectly clear that the Signor Sinbad, Franz's host, had the honor of being on excellent
terms with the smugglers and bandits along the whole coast of the Mediterranean, and
so enjoyed exceptional privileges. As to Franz, he had no longer any inducement to remain
at Monte Cristo. He had lost all hope of detecting the secret of the grotto; he consequently
despatched his breakfast, and, his boat being ready, he hastened on board, and they were
soon under way. At the moment the boat began her course they lost sight of the yacht, as
it disappeared in the gulf of Porto-Vecchio. With it was effaced the last trace of the
preceding night; and then supper, Sinbad, hashish, statues,—all became a dream for
Franz. The boat sailed on all day and all night, and next morning, when the sun rose,
they had lost sight of Monte Cristo. When Franz had once again set foot on shore, he
forgot, for the moment at least, the events which had just passed, while he finished his
affairs of pleasure at Florence, and then thought of nothing but how he should rejoin
his companion, who was awaiting him at Rome. He set out, and on the Saturday evening reached
the Eternal City by the mail-coach. An apartment, as we have said, had been retained beforehand,
and thus he had but to go to Signor Pastrini's hotel. But this was not so easy a matter,
for the streets were thronged with people, and Rome was already a prey to that low and
feverish murmur which precedes all great events; and at Rome there are four great events in
every year,—the Carnival, Holy Week, Corpus Christi, and the Feast of St. Peter. All the
rest of the year the city is in that state of dull apathy, between life and death, which
renders it similar to a kind of station between this world and the next—a sublime spot,
a resting-place full of poetry and character, and at which Franz had already halted five
or six times, and at each time found it more marvellous and striking. At last he made his
way through the mob, which was continually increasing and getting more and more turbulent,
and reached the hotel. On his first inquiry he was told, with the impertinence peculiar
to hired hackney-coachmen and inn-keepers with their houses full, that there was no
room for him at the Hotel de Londres. Then he sent his card to Signor Pastrini, and asked
for Albert de Morcerf. This plan succeeded; and Signor Pastrini himself ran to him, excusing
himself for having made his excellency wait, scolding the waiters, taking the candlestick
from the porter, who was ready to pounce on the traveller and was about to lead him to
Albert, when Morcerf himself appeared. The apartment consisted of two small rooms
and a parlor. The two rooms looked onto the street—a fact which Signor Pastrini commented
upon as an inappreciable advantage. The rest of the floor was hired by a very rich gentleman
who was supposed to be a Sicilian or Maltese; but the host was unable to decide to which
of the two nations the traveller belonged. "Very good, signor Pastrini," said Franz;
"but we must have some supper instantly, and a carriage for tomorrow and the following
days." "As to supper," replied the landlord, "you
shall be served immediately; but as for the carriage"—
"What as to the carriage?" exclaimed Albert. "Come, come, Signor Pastrini, no joking; we
must have a carriage." "Sir," replied the host, "we will do all in
our power to procure you one—this is all I can say."
"And when shall we know?" inquired Franz. "To-morrow morning," answered the inn-keeper.
"Oh, the deuce! then we shall pay the more, that's all, I see plainly enough. At Drake's
or Aaron's one pays twenty-five lire for common days, and thirty or thirty-five lire a day
more for Sundays and feast days; add five lire a day more for extras, that will make
forty, and there's an end of it." "I am afraid if we offer them double that
we shall not procure a carriage." "Then they must put horses to mine. It is
a little worse for the journey, but that's no matter."
"There are no horses." Albert looked at Franz like a man who hears a reply he does not understand.
"Do you understand that, my dear Franz—no horses?" he said, "but can't we have post-horses?"
"They have been all hired this fortnight, and there are none left but those absolutely
requisite for posting." "What are we to say to this?" asked Franz.
"I say, that when a thing completely surpasses my comprehension, I am accustomed not to dwell
on that thing, but to pass to another. Is supper ready, Signor Pastrini?"
"Yes, your excellency." "Well, then, let us sup."
"But the carriage and horses?" said Franz. "Be easy, my dear boy; they will come in due
season; it is only a question of how much shall be charged for them." Morcerf then,
with that delighted philosophy which believes that nothing is impossible to a full purse
or well-lined pocketbook, supped, went to bed, slept soundly, and dreamed he was racing
all over Rome at Carnival time in a coach with six horses.