Part 31 (1/2)
”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 G.o.d 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 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 antic.i.p.ated 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 a.s.suredly,” 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 pa.s.sed 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 cus.h.i.+ons 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 curtains of costly tapestry were suspended before the different doors of the room. ”If your excellencies will please to be seated,” said the man, ”I will let the count know that you are here.”
And with these words he disappeared behind one of the tapestried portieres. As the door opened, the sound of a guzla reached the ears of the young men, but was almost immediately lost, for the rapid closing of the door merely allowed one rich swell of harmony to enter. Franz and Albert looked inquiringly at each other, then at the gorgeous furnis.h.i.+ngs of the apartment. Everything seemed more magnificent at a second view than it had done at their first rapid survey.
”Well,” said Franz to his friend, ”what think you of all this?”
”Why, upon my soul, my dear fellow, it strikes me that our elegant and attentive neighbor must either be some successful stock-jobber who has speculated in the fall of the Spanish funds, or some prince travelling incog.”
”Hush, hus.h.!.+” replied Franz; ”we shall ascertain who and what he is--he comes!” As Franz spoke, he heard the sound of a door turning on its hinges, and almost immediately afterwards the tapestry was drawn aside, and the owner of all these riches stood before the two young men. Albert instantly rose to meet him, but Franz remained, in a manner, spellbound on his chair; for in the person of him who had just entered he recognized not only the mysterious visitant to the Colosseum, and the occupant of the box at the Teatro Argentino, but also his extraordinary host of Monte Cristo.
Chapter 35.
La Mazzolata.
”Gentlemen,” said the Count of Monte Cristo as he entered, ”I pray you excuse me for suffering my visit to be antic.i.p.ated; but I feared to disturb you by presenting myself earlier at your apartments; besides, you sent me word that you would come to me, and I have held myself at your disposal.”
”Franz and I have to thank you a thousand times, count,” returned Albert; ”you extricated us from a great dilemma, and we were on the point of inventing a very fantastic vehicle when your friendly invitation reached us.”
”Indeed,” returned the count, motioning the two young men to sit down. ”It was the fault of that blockhead Pastrini, that I did not sooner a.s.sist you in your distress. He did not mention a syllable of your embarra.s.sment to me, when he knows that, alone and isolated as I am, I seek every opportunity of making the acquaintance of my neighbors. As soon as I learned I could in any way a.s.sist you, I most eagerly seized the opportunity of offering my services.” The two young men bowed. Franz had, as yet, found nothing to say; he had come to no determination, and as nothing in the count's manner manifested the wish that he should recognize him, he did not know whether to make any allusion to the past, or wait until he had more proof; besides, although sure it was he who had been in the box the previous evening, he could not be equally positive that this was the man he had seen at the Colosseum. He resolved, therefore, to let things take their course without making any direct overture to the count. Moreover, he had this advantage, he was master of the count's secret, while the count had no hold on Franz, who had nothing to conceal. However, he resolved to lead the conversation to a subject which might possibly clear up his doubts.
”Count,” said he, ”you have offered us places in your carriage, and at your windows in the Rospoli Palace. Can you tell us where we can obtain a sight of the Piazza del Popolo?”
”Ah,” said the count negligently, looking attentively at Morcerf, ”is there not something like an execution upon the Piazza del Popolo?”
”Yes,” returned Franz, finding that the count was coming to the point he wished.
”Stay, I think I told my steward yesterday to attend to this; perhaps I can render you this slight service also.” He extended his hand, and rang the bell thrice. ”Did you ever occupy yourself,” said he to Franz, ”with the employment of time and the means of simplifying the summoning your servants? I have. When I ring once, it is for my valet; twice, for my majordomo; thrice, for my steward,--thus I do not waste a minute or a word. Here he is.” A man of about forty-five or fifty entered, exactly resembling the smuggler who had introduced Franz into the cavern; but he did not appear to recognize him. It was evident he had his orders. ”Monsieur Bertuccio,” said the count, ”you have procured me windows looking on the Piazza del Popolo, as I ordered you yesterday.”
”Yes, excellency,” returned the steward; ”but it was very late.”
”Did I not tell you I wished for one?” replied the count, frowning.
”And your excellency has one, which was let to Prince Lobanieff; but I was obliged to pay a hundred”-- ”That will do--that will do, Monsieur Bertuccio; spare these gentlemen all such domestic arrangements. You have the window, that is sufficient. Give orders to the coachman; and be in readiness on the stairs to conduct us to it.” The steward bowed, and was about to quit the room. ”Ah,” continued the count, ”be good enough to ask Pastrini if he has received the tavoletta, and if he can send us an account of the execution.”
”There is no need to do that,” said Franz, taking out his tablets; ”for I saw the account, and copied it down.”
”Very well, you can retire, M. Bertuccio; but let us know when breakfast is ready. These gentlemen,” added he, turning to the two friends, ”will, I trust, do me the honor to breakfast with me?”
”But, my dear count,” said Albert, ”we shall abuse your kindness.”
”Not at all; on the contrary, you will give me great pleasure. You will, one or other of you, perhaps both, return it to me at Paris. M. Bertuccio, lay covers for three.” He then took Franz's tablets out of his hand. ”'We announce,' he read, in the same tone with which he would have read a newspaper, 'that to-day, the 23d of February, will be executed Andrea Rondolo, guilty of murder on the person of the respected and venerated Don Cesare Torlini, canon of the church of St. John Lateran, and Peppino, called Rocca Priori, convicted of complicity with the detestable bandit Luigi Vampa, and the men of his band.' Hum! 'The first will be mazzolato, the second decapitato.' Yes,” continued the count, ”it was at first arranged in this way; but I think since yesterday some change has taken place in the order of the ceremony.”
”Really?” said Franz.
”Yes, I pa.s.sed the evening at the Cardinal Rospigliosi's, and there mention was made of something like a pardon for one of the two men.”
”For Andrea Rondolo?” asked Franz.
”No,” replied the count, carelessly; ”for the other (he glanced at the tablets as if to recall the name), for Peppino, called Rocca Priori. You are thus deprived of seeing a man guillotined; but the mazzuola still remains, which is a very curious punishment when seen for the first time, and even the second, while the other, as you must know, is very simple. The mandaia [*] never fails, never trembles, never strikes thirty times ineffectually, like the soldier who beheaded the Count of Chalais, and to whose tender mercy Richelieu had doubtless recommended the sufferer. Ah,” added the count, in a contemptuous tone, ”do not tell me of European punishments, they are in the infancy, or rather the old age, of cruelty.”
* Guillotine.
”Really, count,” replied Franz, ”one would think that you had studied the different tortures of all the nations of the world.”
”There are, at least, few that I have not seen,” said the count coldly.
”And you took pleasure in beholding these dreadful spectacles?”
”My first sentiment was horror, the second indifference, the third curiosity.”
”Curiosity--that is a terrible word.”
”Why so? In life, our greatest preoccupation is death; is it not then, curious to study the different ways by which the soul and body can part; and how, according to their different characters, temperaments, and even the different customs of their countries, different persons bear the transition from life to death, from existence to annihilation? As for myself, I can a.s.sure you of one thing,--the more men you see die, the easier it becomes to die yourself; and in my opinion, death may be a torture, but it is not an expiation.”
”I do not quite understand you,” replied Franz; ”pray explain your meaning, for you excite my curiosity to the highest pitch.”
”Listen,” said the count, and deep hatred mounted to his face, as the blood would to the face of any other. ”If a man had by unheard-of and excruciating tortures destroyed your father, your mother, your betrothed,--a being who, when torn from you, left a desolation, a wound that never closes, in your breast,--do you think the reparation that society gives you is sufficient when it interposes the knife of the guillotine between the base of the occiput and the trapezal muscles of the murderer, and allows him who has caused us years of moral sufferings to escape with a few moments of physical pain?”
”Yes, I know,” said Franz, ”that human justice is insufficient to console us; she can give blood in return for blood, that is all; but you must demand from her only what it is in her power to grant.”
”I will put another case to you,” continued the count; ”that where society, attacked by the death of a person, avenges death by death. But are there not a thousand tortures by which a man may be made to suffer without society taking the least cognizance of them, or offering him even the insufficient means of vengeance, of which we have just spoken? Are there not crimes for which the impalement of the Turks, the augers of the Persians, the stake and the brand of the Iroquois Indians, are inadequate tortures, and which are unpunished by society? Answer me, do not these crimes exist?”
”Yes,” answered Franz; ”and it is to punish them that duelling is tolerated.”
”Ah, duelling,” cried the count; ”a pleasant manner, upon my soul, of arriving at your end when that end is vengeance! A man has carried off your mistress, a man has seduced your wife, a man has dishonored your daughter; he has rendered the whole life of one who had the right to expect from heaven that portion of happiness G.o.d his promised to every one of his creatures, an existence of misery and infamy; and you think you are avenged because you send a ball through the head, or pa.s.s a sword through the breast, of that man who has planted madness in your brain, and despair in your heart. And remember, moreover, that it is often he who comes off victorious from the strife, absolved of all crime in the eyes of the world. No, no,” continued the count, ”had I to avenge myself, it is not thus I would take revenge.”
”Then you disapprove of duelling? You would not fight a duel?” asked Albert in his turn, astonished at this strange theory.
”Oh, yes,” replied the count; ”understand me, I would fight a duel for a trifle, for an insult, for a blow; and the more so that, thanks to my skill in all bodily exercises, and the indifference to danger I have gradually acquired, I should be almost certain to kill my man. Oh, I would fight for such a cause; but in return for a slow, profound, eternal torture, I would give back the same, were it possible; an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, as the Orientalists say,--our masters in everything,--those favored creatures who have formed for themselves a life of dreams and a paradise of realities.”