The Count of Monte Cristo

secure in being able to extricate himself from his position,
provided he were not rated at the unreasonable sum of
5,050,000 francs, he stretched himself on his bed, and after
turning over two or three times, fell asleep with the
tranquillity of the hero whose life Luigi Vampa was
studying.



Chapter 115
Luigi Vampa's Bill of Fare.

We awake from every sleep except the one dreaded by
Danglars. He awoke. To a Parisian accustomed to silken
curtains, walls hung with velvet drapery, and the soft
perfume of burning wood, the white smoke of which diffuses
itself in graceful curves around the room, the appearance of
the whitewashed cell which greeted his eyes on awakening
seemed like the continuation of some disagreeable dream. But
in such a situation a single moment suffices to change the
strongest doubt into certainty. "Yes, yes," he murmured, "I
am in the hands of the brigands of whom Albert de Morcerf
spoke." His first idea was to breathe, that he might know
whether he was wounded. He borrowed this from "Don Quixote,"
the only book he had ever read, but which he still slightly
remembered.

"No," he cried, "they have not wounded, but perhaps they
have robbed me!" and he thrust his hands into his pockets.
They were untouched; the hundred louis he had reserved for
his journey from Rome to Venice were in his trousers pocket,
and in that of his great-coat he found the little note-case
containing his letter of credit for 5,050,000 francs.
"Singular bandits!" he exclaimed; "they have left me my
purse and pocket-book. As I was saying last night, they
intend me to be ransomed. Hallo, here is my watch! Let me
see what time it is." Danglars' watch, one of Breguet's
repeaters, which he had carefully wound up on the previous
night, struck half past five. Without this, Danglars would
have been quite ignorant of the time, for daylight did not
reach his cell. Should he demand an explanation from the
bandits, or should he wait patiently for them to propose it?
The last alternative seemed the most prudent, so he waited
until twelve o'clock. During all this time a sentinel, who
had been relieved at eight o'clock, had been watching his
door. Danglars suddenly felt a strong inclination to see the
person who kept watch over him. He had noticed that a few
rays, not of daylight, but from a lamp, penetrated through
the ill-joined planks of the door; he approached just as the
brigand was refreshing himself with a mouthful of brandy,
which, owing to the leathern bottle containing it, sent
forth an odor which was extremely unpleasant to Danglars.
"Faugh!" he exclaimed, retreating to the farther corner of
his cell.

At twelve this man was replaced by another functionary, and
Danglars, wishing to catch sight of his new guardian,
approached the door again. He was an athletic, gigantic
bandit, with large eyes, thick lips, and a flat nose; his
red hair fell in dishevelled masses like snakes around his
shoulders. "Ah, ha," cried Danglars, "this fellow is more
like an ogre than anything else; however, I am rather too
old and tough to be very good eating!" We see that Danglars
was collected enough to jest; at the same time, as though to
disprove the ogreish propensities, the man took some black
bread, cheese, and onions from his wallet, which he began
devouring voraciously. "May I be hanged," said Danglars,
glancing at the bandit's dinner through the crevices of the
door, -- "may I be hanged if I can understand how people can
eat such filth!" and he withdrew to seat himself upon his
goat-skin, which reminded him of the smell of the brandy.

But the mysteries of nature are incomprehensible, and there
are certain invitations contained in even the coarsest food
which appeal very irresistibly to a fasting stomach.
Danglars felt his own not to be very well supplied just
then, and gradually the man appeared less ugly, the bread
less black, and the cheese more fresh, while those dreadful
vulgar onions recalled to his mind certain sauces and
side-dishes, which his cook prepared in a very superior
manner whenever he said, "Monsieur Deniseau, let me have a
nice little fricassee to-day." He got up and knocked on the
door; the bandit raised his head. Danglars knew that he was
heard, so he redoubled his blows. "Che cosa?" asked the
bandit. "Come, come," said Danglars, tapping his fingers
against the door, "I think it is quite time to think of
giving me something to eat!" But whether he did not
understand him, or whether he had received no orders
respecting the nourishment of Danglars, the giant, without
answering, went on with his dinner. Danglars' feelings were
hurt, and not wishing to put himself under obligations to
the brute, the banker threw himself down again on his
goat-skin and did not breathe another word.

Four hours passed by and the giant was replaced by another
bandit. Danglars, who really began to experience sundry
gnawings at the stomach, arose softly, again applied his eye
to the crack of the door, and recognized the intelligent
countenance of his guide. It was, indeed, Peppino who was
preparing to mount guard as comfortably as possible by