“Where he comes from I am ignorant; but I can readily tell you where he is going to, and that is down below, without the least doubt.”
“Let us only speak of the promise you wished me to make,” said Franz.
“Well, then, you must give me your word to return immediately to your hotel, and make no attempt to follow this man to-night. There are certain affinities between the persons we quit and those we meet afterwards. For heaven’s sake, do not serve as a conductor between that man and me. Pursue your chase after him tomorrow as eagerly as you please; but never bring him near me, if you would not see me die of terror. And now, good-night; go to your rooms, and try to sleep away all recollections of this evening. For my own part, I am quite sure I shall not be able to close my eyes.” So saying, the countess quitted Franz, leaving him unable to decide whether she were merely amusing herself at his expense, or whether her fears and agitations were genuine.
Upon his return to the hotel, Franz found Albert in his dressing-gown and slippers, listlessly extended on a sofa, smoking a cigar. “My dear fellow.” cried he, springing up, “is it really you? Why, I did not expect to see you before tomorrow.”
“My dear Albert,” replied Franz, “I am glad of this opportunity to tell you, once and forever, that you entertain a most erroneous notion concerning Italian women. I should have thought the continual failures you have met with in all your own love affairs might have taught you better by this time.”
“Upon my soul, these women would puzzle the very Devil to read them aright. Why, here — they give you their hand — they press yours in return — they keep up a whispering conversation — permit you to accompany them home. Why, if a Parisian were to indulge in a quarter of these marks of flattering attention, her reputation would be gone forever.”
“And the very reason why the women of this fine country put so little restraint on their words and actions, is because they live so much in public, and have really nothing to conceal. Besides, you must have perceived that the countess was really alarmed.”
“At what? At the sight of that respectable gentleman sitting opposite to us in the same box with the lovely Greek girl? Now, for my part, I met them in the lobby after the conclusion of the piece; and hang me, if I can guess where you took your notions of the other world from. I can assure you that this hobgoblin of yours is a deuced fine-looking fellow — admirably dressed. Indeed, I feel quite sure, from the cut of his clothes, they are made by a first-rate Paris tailor — probably Blin or Humann. He was rather too pale, certainly; but then, you know, paleness is always looked upon as a strong proof of aristocratic descent and distinguished breeding.” Franz smiled; for he well remembered that Albert particularly prided himself on the entire absence of color in his own complexion.
“Well, that tends to confirm my own ideas,” said Franz, “that the countess’s suspicions were destitute alike of sense and reason. Did he speak in your hearing? and did you catch any of his words?”
“I did; but they were uttered in the Romaic dialect. I knew that from the mixture of Greek words. I don’t know whether I ever told you that when I was at college I was rather — rather strong in Greek.”
“He spoke the Romaic language, did he?”
“I think so.”
“That settles it,” murmured Franz. “‘Tis he, past all doubt.”
“What do you say?”
“Nothing, nothing. But tell me, what were you thinking about when I came in?”
“Oh, I was arranging a little surprise for you.”
“Indeed. Of what nature?”
“Why, you know it is quite impossible to procure a carriage.”
“Certainly; and I also know that we have done all that human means afforded to endeavor to get one.”
“Now, then, in this difficulty a bright idea has flashed across my brain.” Franz looked at Albert as though he had not much confidence in the suggestions of his imagination. “I tell you what, Sir Franz,” cried Albert, “you deserve to be called out for such a misgiving and incredulous glance as that you were pleased to bestow on me just now.”
“And I promise to give you the satisfaction of a gentleman if your scheme turns out as ingenious as you assert.”
“Well, then, hearken to me.”
“I listen.”
“You agree, do you not, that obtaining a carriage is out of the question?”
“I do.”
“Neither can we procure horses?”
“True; we have offered any sum, but have failed.”
“Well, now, what do you say to a cart? I dare say such a thing might be had.”
“Very possibly.”
“And a pair of oxen?”
“As easily found as the cart.”
“Then you see, my good fellow, with a cart and a couple of oxen our business can be managed. The cart must be tastefully ornamented; and if you and I dress ourselves as Neapolitan reapers, we may get up a striking tableau, after the manner of that splendid picture by Leopold Robert. It would add greatly to the effect if the countess would join us in the costume of a peasant from Puzzoli or Sorrento. Our group would then be quite complete, more especially as the countess is quite beautiful enough to represent a madonna.”
“Well,” said Franz, “this time, Albert, I am bound to give you credit for having hit upon a most capital idea.”
“And quite a national one, too,” replied Albert with gratified pride. “A mere masque borrowed from our own festivities. Ha, ha, ye Romans! you thought to make us, unhappy strangers, trot at the heels of your processions, like so many lazzaroni, because no carriages or horses are to be had in your beggarly city. But you don’t know us; when we can’t have one thing we invent another.”
“And have you communicated your triumphant idea to anybody?”
“Only to our host. Upon my return home I sent for him, and I then explained to him what I wished to procure. He assured me that nothing would be easier than to furnish all I desired. One thing I was sorry for; when I bade him have the horns of the oxen gilded, he told me there would not be time, as it would require three days to do that; so you see we must do without this little superfluity.”
“And where is he now?”
“Who?”
“Our host.”
“Gone out in search of our equipage, by tomorrow it might be too late.”
“Then he will be able to give us an answer to-night.”
“Oh, I expect him every minute.” At this instant the door opened, and the head of Signor Pastrini appeared. “Permesso?” inquired he.
“Certainly — certainly,” cried Franz. “Come in, mine host.”
“Now, then,” asked Albert eagerly, “have you found the desired cart and oxen?”
“Better than that!” replied Signor Pastrini, with the air of a man perfectly well satisfied with himself.
“Take care, my worthy host,” said Albert, “better is a sure enemy to well.”
“Let your excellencies only leave the matter to me,” returned Signor Pastrini in a tone indicative of unbounded self-confidence.
“But what have you done?” asked Franz. “Speak out, there’s a worthy fellow.”
“Your excellencies are aware,” responded the landlord, swelling with importance, “that the Count of Monte Cristo is living on the same floor with yourselves!”
“I