Chapter 31 Italy: Sinbad the Sailor
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TOWARDS THE BEGINNING of the year
1838, two young men belonging to the first society of Paris, the Vicomte
Albert de Morcerf and the Baron Franz d'Epinay, were at Florence. They had
agreed to see the Carnival at Rome that year, and that Franz, who for the
last three or four years had inhabited Italy, should act as cicerone to
Albert. As it is no inconsiderable affair
to spend the Carnival at Rome, especially when you have no great desire to
sleep on the Piazza del Popolo, or the Campo Vaccino, they wrote to Signor
Pastrini, the proprietor of the H?tel de Londres, Piazza di Spagna, to
reserve comfortable apartments for them. Signor Pastrini replied that he
had only two rooms and a parlor on the third floor, which he offered at
the low charge of a louis per diem. They accepted his offer; but wishing
to make the best use of the time that was left, Albert started for Naples.
As for Franz, he remained at Florence, and after having passed a few days
in exploring the paradise of the Cascine, and spending two or three
evenings at the houses of the Florentine nobility, he took a fancy into
his head (having already visited Corsica, the cradle of Bonaparte) to
visit Elba, the waiting-place of Napoleon. One evening he cast off the
painter of a sailboat from the iron ring that secured it to the dock at
Leghorn, wrapped himself in his coat and lay down, and said to the
crew,--"To the Island of Elba!" The boat shot out of the harbor
like a bird and the next morning Franz disembarked at Porto-Ferrajo. He
traversed the island, after having followed the traces which the footsteps
of the giant have left, and re-embarked for Marciana. Two hours after he
again landed at Pianosa, where he was assured that red partridges
abounded. The sport was bad; Franz only succeeded in killing a few
partridges, and, like every unsuccessful sportsman, he returned to the
boat very much out of temper. "Ah, if your excellency chose,"
said the captain, "you might have capital sport." "Where?" "Do you see that
island?" continued the captain, pointing to a conical pile rising
from the indigo sea. "Well, what is this
island?" "The Island of Monte Cristo."
"But I have no permission to
shoot over this island." "Your excellency does not
require a permit, for the island is uninhabited." "Ah, indeed!" said the
young man. "A desert island in the midst of the Mediterranean must be
a curiosity." "It is very natural; this
island is a mass of rocks, and does not contain an acre of land capable of
cultivation." "To whom does this island
belong?" "To Tuscany." "What game shall I find
there!" "Thousands of wild
goats." "Who live upon the stones, I
suppose," said Franz with an incredulous smile. "No, but by browsing the
shrubs and trees that grow out of the crevices of the rocks." "Where can I sleep?" "On shore in the grottos, or
on board in your cloak; besides, if your excellency pleases, we can leave
as soon as you like--we can sail as well by night as by day, and if the
wind drops we can use our oars." As Franz had sufficient time, and
his apartments at Rome were not yet available, he accepted the
proposition. Upon his answer in the affirmative, the sailors exchanged a
few words together in a low tone. "Well," asked he, "what
now? Is there any difficulty in the way?" "No." replied the
captain, "but we must warn your excellency that the island is an
infected port." "What do you mean?" "Monte Cristo although
uninhabited, yet serves occasionally as a refuge for the smugglers and
pirates who come from Corsica, Sardinia, and Africa, and if it becomes
known that we have been there, we shall have to perform quarantine for six
days on our return to Leghorn." "The deuce! That puts a
different face on the matter. Six days! Why, that's as long as the
Almighty took to make the world! Too long a wait--too long." "But who will say your
excellency has been to Monte Cristo?" "Oh, I shall not,"
cried Franz. "Nor I, nor I,"
chorused the sailors. "Then steer for Monte Cristo."
The captain gave his orders, the
helm was put up, and the boat was soon sailing in the direction of the
island. Franz waited until all was in order, and when the sail was filled,
and the four sailors had taken their places--three forward, and one at the
helm--he resumed the conversation. "Gaetano," said he to the
captain, "you tell me Monte Cristo serves as a refuge for pirates,
who are, it seems to me, a very different kind of game from the
goats." "Yes, your excellency, and
it is true." "I knew there were
smugglers, but I thought that since the capture of Algiers, and the
destruction of the regency, pirates existed only in the romances of Cooper
and Captain Marryat." "Your excellency is
mistaken; there are pirates, like the bandits who were believed to have
been exterminated by Pope Leo XII., and who yet, every day, rob travellers
at the gates of Rome. Has not your excellency heard that the French chargиж d'affaires was robbed six months
ago within five hundred paces of Velletri?" "Oh, yes, I heard
that." "Well, then, if, like us,
your excellency lived at Leghorn, you would hear, from time to time, that
a little merchant vessel, or an English yacht that was expected at Bastia,
at Porto-Ferrajo, or at Civita Vecchia, has not arrived; no one knows what
has become of it, but, doubtless, it has struck on a rock and foundered.
Now this rock it has met has been a long and narrow boat, manned by six or
eight men, who have surprised and plundered it, some dark and stormy
night, near some desert and gloomy island, as bandits plunder a carriage
in the recesses of a forest." "But," asked Franz, who
lay wrapped in his cloak at the bottom of the boat, "why do not those
who have been plundered complain to the French, Sardinian, or Tuscan
governments?" "Why?" said Gaetano
with a smile. "Yes, why?" "Because, in the first
place, they transfer from the vessel to their own boat whatever they think
worth taking, then they bind the crew hand and foot, they attach to every
one's neck a four and twenty pound ball, a large hole is chopped in the
vessel's bottom, and then they leave her. At the end of ten minutes the
vessel begins to roll heavily and settle down. First one gun'l goes under,
then the other. Then they lift and sink again, and both go under at once.
All at once there's a noise like a cannon--that's the air blowing up the
deck. Soon the water rushes out of the scupper-holes like a whale
spouting, the vessel gives a last groan, spins round and round, and
disappears, forming a vast whirlpool in the ocean, and then all is over,
so that in five minutes nothing but the eye of God can see the vessel
where she lies at the bottom of the sea. Do you understand now," said
the captain, "why no complaints are made to the government, and why
the vessel never reaches port?" It is probable that if Gaetano
had related this previous to proposing the expedition, Franz would have
hesitated, but now that they had started, he thought it would be cowardly
to draw back. He was one of those men who do not rashly court danger, but
if danger presents itself, combat it with the most unalterable coolness.
Calm and resolute, he treated any peril as he would an adversary in a
duel,--calculated its probable method of approach; retreated, if at all,
as a point of strategy and not from cowardice; was quick to see an opening
for attack, and won victory at a single thrust. "Bah!" said he,
"I have travelled through Sicily and Calabria--I have sailed two
months in the Archipelago, and yet I never saw even the shadow of a bandit
or a pirate." "I did not tell your
excellency this to deter you from your project," replied Gaetano,
"but you questioned me, and I have answered; that's all." "Yes, and your conversation
is most interesting; and as I wish to enjoy it as long as possible, steer
for Monte Cristo." The wind blew strongly, the boat
made six or seven knots an hour, and they were rapidly reaching the end of
their voyage. As they drew near the island seemed to lift from the sea,
and the air was so clear that they could already distinguish the rocks
heaped on one another, like cannon balls in an arsenal, with green bushes
and trees growing in the crevices. As for the sailors, although they
appeared perfectly tranquil yet it was evident that they were on the
alert, and that they carefully watched the glassy surface over which they
were sailing, and on which a few fishing-boats, with their white sails,
were alone visible. They were within fifteen miles of Monte Cristo when
the sun began to set behind Corsica, whose mountains appeared against the
sky, showing their rugged peaks in bold relief; this mass of rock, like
the giant Adamastor, rose dead ahead, a formidable barrier, and
intercepting the light that gilded its massive peaks so that the voyagers
were in shadow. Little by little the shadow rose higher and seemed to
drive before it the last rays of the expiring day; at last the reflection
rested on the summit of the mountain, where it paused an instant, like the
fiery crest of a volcano, then gloom gradually covered the summit as it
had covered the base, and the island now only appeared to be a gray
mountain that grew continually darker; half an hour after, the night was
quite dark. Fortunately, the mariners were
used to these latitudes, and knew every rock in the Tuscan Archipelago;
for in the midst of this obscurity Franz was not without
uneasiness--Corsica had long since disappeared, and Monte Cristo itself
was invisible; but the sailors seemed, like the lynx, to see in the dark,
and the pilot who steered did not evince the slightest hesitation. An hour
had passed since the sun had set, when Franz fancied he saw, at a quarter
of a mile to the left, a dark mass, but he could not precisely make out
what it was, and fearing to excite the mirth of the sailors by mistaking a
floating cloud for land, he remained silent; suddenly a great light
appeared on the strand; land might resemble a cloud, but the fire was not
a meteor. "What is this light?" asked he. "Hush!" said the
captain; "it is a fire." "But you told me the island
was uninhabited?" "l said there were no fixed
habitations on it, but I said also that it served sometimes as a harbor
for smugglers." "And for pirates?" "And for pirates,"
returned Gaetano, repeating Franz's words. "It is for that reason I
have given orders to pass the island, for, as you see, the fire is behind
us." "But this fire?"
continued Franz. "It seems to me rather reassuring than otherwise;
men who did not wish to be seen would not light a fire." "Oh, that goes for
nothing," said Gaetano. "If you can guess the position of the
island in the darkness, you will see that the fire cannot be seen from the
side or from Pianosa, but only from the sea." "You think, then, this fire
indicates the presence of unpleasant neighbors?" "That is what we must find
out," returned Gaetano, fixing his eyes on this terrestrial star. "How can you find out?"
"You shall see."
Gaetano consulted with his companions, and after five minutes' discussion
a manoeuvre was executed which caused the vessel to tack about, they
returned the way they had come, and in a few minutes the fire disappeared,
hidden by an elevation of the land. The pilot again changed the course of
the boat, which rapidly approached the island, and was soon within fifty
paces of it. Gaetano lowered the sail, and the boat came to rest. All this
was done in silence, and from the moment that their course was changed not
a word was spoken. Gaetano, who had proposed the
expedition, had taken all the responsibility on himself; the four sailors
fixed their eyes on him, while they got out their oars and held themselves
in readiness to row away, which, thanks to the darkness, would not be
difficult. As for Franz, he examined his arms with the utmost coolness; he
had two double-barrelled guns and a rifle; he loaded them, looked at the
priming, and waited quietly. During this time the captain had thrown off
his vest and shirt, and secured his trousers round his waist; his feet
were naked, so he had no shoes and stockings to take off; after these
preparations he placed his finger on his lips, and lowering himself
noiselessly into the sea, swam towards the shore with such precaution that
it was impossible to hear the slightest sound; he could only be traced by
the phosphorescent line in his wake. This track soon disappeared; it was
evident that he had touched the shore. Every one on board remained
motionless for half an hour, when the same luminous track was again
observed, and the swimmer was soon on board. "Well?" exclaimed
Franz and the sailors in unison. "They are Spanish
smugglers," said he; "they have with them two Corsican
bandits." "And what are these Corsican
bandits doing here with Spanish smugglers?" "Alas," returned the
captain with an accent of the most profound pity, "we ought always to
help one another. Very often the bandits are hard pressed by gendarmes or
carbineers; well, they see a vessel, and good fellows like us on board,
they come and demand hospitality of us; you can't refuse help to a poor
hunted devil; we receive them, and for greater security we stand out to
sea. This costs us nothing, and saves the life, or at least the liberty,
of a fellow-creature, who on the first occasion returns the service by
pointing out some safe spot where we can land our goods without
interruption." "Ah!" said Franz,
"then you are a smuggler occasionally, Gaetano?" "Your excellency, we must
live somehow," returned the other, smiling impenetrably. "Then you know the men who
are now on Monte Cristo?" "Oh, yes, we sailors are
like freemasons, and recognize each other by signs." "And do you think we have
nothing to fear if we land?" "Nothing at all; smugglers
are not thieves." "But these two Corsican
bandits?" said Franz, calculating the chances of peril. "It is not their fault that
they are bandits, but that of the authorities." "How so?" "Because they are pursued
for having made a stiff, as if it was not in a Corsican's nature to
revenge himself." "What do you mean by having
made a stiff?--having assassinated a man?" said Franz, continuing his
investigation. "I mean that they have
killed an enemy, which is a very different thing," returned the
captain. "Well," said the young
man, "let us demand hospitality of these smugglers and bandits. Do
you think they will grant it?" "Without doubt." "How many are they?" "Four, and the two bandits
make six." "Just our number, so that if
they prove troublesome, we shall be able to hold them in check; so, for
the last time, steer to Monte Cristo." "Yes, but your excellency
will permit us to take all due precautions." "By all means, be as wise as
Nestor and as prudent as Ulysses; I do more than permit, I exhort
you." "Silence, then!" said
Gaetano. Every one obeyed. For a man who,
like Franz, viewed his position in its true light, it was a grave one. He
was alone in the darkness with sailors whom he did not know, and who had
no reason to be devoted to him; who knew that he had several thousand
francs in his belt, and who had often examined his weapons,--which were
very beautiful,--if not with envy, at least with curiosity. On the other
hand, he was about to land, without any other escort than these men, on an
island which had, indeed, a very religious name, but which did not seem to
Franz likely to afford him much hospitality, thanks to the smugglers and
bandits. The history of the scuttled vessels, which had appeared
improbable during the day, seemed very probable at night; placed as he was
between two possible sources of danger, he kept his eye on the crew, and
his gun in his hand. The sailors had again hoisted sail, and the vessel
was once more cleaving the waves. Through the darkness Franz, whose eyes
were now more accustomed to it, could see the looming shore along which
the boat was sailing, and then, as they rounded a rocky point, he saw the
fire more brilliant than ever, and about it five or six persons seated.
The blaze illumined the sea for a hundred paces around. Gaetano skirted
the light, carefully keeping the boat in the shadow; then, when they were
opposite the fire, he steered to the centre of the circle, singing a
fishing song, of which his companions sung the chorus. At the first words
of the song the men seated round the fire arose and approached the
landing-place, their eyes fixed on the boat, evidently seeking to know who
the new-comers were and what were their intentions. They soon appeared
satisfied and returned (with the exception of one, who remained at the
shore) to their fire, at which the carcass of a goat was roasting. When
the boat was within twenty paces of the shore, the man on the beach, who
carried a carbine, presented arms after the manner of a sentinel, and
cried, "Who comes there?" in Sardinian. Franz coolly cocked both
barrels. Gaetano then exchanged a few words with this man which the
traveller did not understand, but which evidently concerned him.
"Will your excellency give your name, or remain incognito?"
asked the captain. "My name must rest
unknown,--merely say I am a Frenchman travelling for pleasure." As
soon as Gaetano had transmitted this answer, the sentinel gave an order to
one of the men seated round the fire, who rose and disappeared among the
rocks. Not a word was spoken, every one seemed occupied, Franz with his
disembarkment, the sailors with their sails, the smugglers with their
goat; but in the midst of all this carelessness it was evident that they
mutually observed each other. The man who had disappeared returned
suddenly on the opposite side to that by which he had left; he made a sign
with his head to the sentinel, who, turning to the boat, said, "S'accommodi."
The Italian s'accommodi is untranslatable; it means at once, "Come,
enter, you are welcome; make yourself at home; you are the master."
It is like that Turkish phrase of Moliииre's
that so astonished the bourgeois gentleman by the number of things implied
in its utterance. The sailors did not wait for a second invitation; four
strokes of the oar brought them to land; Gaetano sprang to shore,
exchanged a few words with the sentinel, then his comrades disembarked,
and lastly came Franz. One of his guns was swung over his shoulder,
Gaetano had the other, and a sailor held his rifle; his dress, half
artist, half dandy, did not excite any suspicion, and, consequently, no
disquietude. The boat was moored to the shore, and they advanced a few
paces to find a comfortable bivouac; but, doubtless, the spot they chose
did not suit the smuggler who filled the post of sentinel, for he cried
out, "Not that way, if you please." Gaetano faltered an excuse, and
advanced to the opposite side, while two sailors kindled torches at the
fire to light them on their way. They advanced about thirty paces, and
then stopped at a small esplanade surrounded with rocks, in which seats
had been cut, not unlike sentry-boxes. Around in the crevices of the rocks
grew a few dwarf oaks and thick bushes of myrtles. Franz lowered a torch,
and saw by the mass of cinders that had accumulated that he was not the
first to discover this retreat, which was, doubtless, one of the
halting-places of the wandering visitors of Monte Cristo. As for his
suspicions, once on terra firma, once that he had seen the indifferent, if
not friendly, appearance of his hosts, his anxiety had quite disappeared,
or rather, at sight of the goat, had turned to appetite. He mentioned this
to Gaetano, who replied that nothing could be more easy than to prepare a
supper when they had in their boat, bread, wine, half a dozen partridges,
and a good fire to roast them by. "Besides," added he, "if
the smell of their roast meat tempts you, I will go and offer them two of
our birds for a slice." "You are a born
diplomat," returned Franz; "go and try." Meanwhile the sailors had
collected dried sticks and branches with which they made a fire. Franz
waited impatiently, inhaling the aroma of the roasted meat, when the
captain returned with a mysterious air. "Well," said Franz,
"anything new?--do they refuse?" "On the contrary,"
returned Gaetano, "the chief, who was told you were a young
Frenchman, invites you to sup with him." "Well," observed Franz,
"this chief is very polite, and I see no objection--the more so as I
bring my share of the supper." "Oh, it is not that; he has
plenty, and to spare, for supper; but he makes one condition, and rather a
peculiar one, before he will receive you at his house." "His house? Has he built one
here, then?" "No; but he has a very
comfortable one all the same, so they say." "You know this chief,
then?" "I have heard talk of
him." "Favorably or
otherwise?" "Both." "The deuce!--and what is
this condition?" "That you are blindfolded,
and do not take off the bandage until he himself bids you." Franz
looked at Gaetano, to see, if possible, what he thought of this proposal.
"Ah," replied he, guessing Franz's thought, "I know this is
a serious matter." "What should you do in my
place?" "I, who have nothing to
lose,--I should go." "You would accept?" "Yes, were it only out of
curiosity." "There is something very
peculiar about this chief, then?" "Listen," said Gaetano,
lowering his voice, "I do not know if what they say is true"--he
stopped to see if any one was near. "What do they say?" "That this chief inhabits a
cavern to which the Pitti Palace is nothing." "What nonsense!" said
Franz, reseating himself. "It is no nonsense; it is
quite true. Cama, the pilot of the Saint Ferdinand, went in once, and he
came back amazed, vowing that such treasures were only to be heard of in
fairy tales." "Do you know," observed
Franz, "that with such stories you make me think of Ali Baba's
enchanted cavern?" "I tell you what I have been
told." "Then you advise me to
accept?" "Oh, I don't say that; your
excellency will do as you please; I should be sorry to advise you in the
matter." Franz pondered the matter for a few moments, concluded that
a man so rich could not have any intention of plundering him of what
little he had, and seeing only the prospect of a good supper, accepted.
Gaetano departed with the reply. Franz was prudent, and wished to learn
all he possibly could concerning his host. He turned towards the sailor,
who, during this dialogue, had sat gravely plucking the partridges with
the air of a man proud of his office, and asked him how these men had
landed, as no vessel of any kind was visible. "Never mind that,"
returned the sailor, "I know their vessel." "Is it a very beautiful
vessel?" "I would not wish for a
better to sail round the world." "Of what burden is
she?" "About a hundred tons; but
she is built to stand any weather. She is what the English call a
yacht." "Where was she built?" "I know not; but my own
opinion is she is a Genoese." "And how did a leader of
smugglers," continued Franz, "venture to build a vessel designed
for such a purpose at Genoa?" "I did not say that the
owner was a smuggler," replied the sailor. "No; but Gaetano did, I
thought." "Gaetano had only seen the
vessel from a distance, he had not then spoken to any one." "And if this person be not a
smuggler, who is he?" "A wealthy signor, who
travels for his pleasure." "Come," thought Franz,
"he is still more mysterious, since the two accounts do not
agree." "What is his name?" "If you ask him he says
Sinbad the Sailor; but I doubt if it be his real name." "Sinbad the Sailor?" "Yes." "And where does he
reside?" "On the sea." "What country does he come
from?" "I do not know." "Have you ever seen
him?" "Sometimes." "What sort of a man is
he?" "Your excellency will judge
for yourself." "Where will he receive
me?" "No doubt in the
subterranean palace Gaetano told you of." "Have you never had the
curiosity, when you have landed and found this island deserted, to seek
for this enchanted palace?" "Oh, yes, more than once,
but always in vain; we examined the grotto all over, but we never could
find the slightest trace of any opening; they say that the door is not
opened by a key, but a magic word." "Decidedly," muttered
Franz, "this is an Arabian Nights' adventure." "His excellency waits for
you," said a voice, which he recognized as that of the sentinel. He
was accompanied by two of the yacht's crew. Franz drew his handkerchief
from his pocket, and presented it to the man who had spoken to him.
Without uttering a word, they bandaged his eyes with a care that showed
their apprehensions of his committing some indiscretion. Afterwards he was
made to promise that he would not make the least attempt to raise the
bandage. He promised. Then his two guides took his arms, and he went on,
guided by them, and preceded by the sentinel. After going about thirty
paces, he smelt the appetizing odor of the kid that was roasting, and knew
thus that he was passing the bivouac; they then led him on about fifty
paces farther, evidently advancing towards that part of the shore where
they would not allow Gaetano to go--a refusal he could now comprehend.
Presently, by a change in the atmosphere, he knew that they were entering
a cave; after going on for a few seconds more he heard a crackling, and it
seemed to him as though the atmosphere again changed, and became balmy and
perfumed. At length his feet touched on a thick and soft carpet, and his
guides let go their hold of him. There was a moment's silence, and then a
voice, in excellent French, although, with a foreign accent, said,
"Welcome, sir. I beg you will remove your bandage." It may be
supposed, then, Franz did not wait for a repetition of this permission,
but took off the handkerchief, and found himself in the presence of a man
from thirty-eight to forty years of age, dressed in a Tunisian
costume--that is to say, a red cap with a long blue silk tassel, a vest of
black cloth embroidered with gold, pantaloons of deep red, large and full
gaiters of the same color, embroidered with gold like the vest, and yellow
slippers; he had a splendid cashmere round his waist, and a small sharp
and crooked cangiar was passed through his girdle. Although of a paleness
that was almost livid, this man had a remarkably handsome face; his eyes
were penetrating and sparkling; his nose, quite straight, and projecting
direct from the brow, was of the pure Greek type, while his teeth, as
white as pearls, were set off to admiration by the black mustache that
encircled them. His pallor was so peculiar, that
it seemed to pertain to one who had been long entombed, and who was
incapable of resuming the healthy glow and hue of life. He was not
particularly tall, but extremely well made, and, like the men of the
south, had small hands and feet. But what astonished Franz, who had
treated Gaetano's description as a fable, was the splendor of the
apartment in which he found himself. The entire chamber was lined with
crimson brocade, worked with flowers of gold. In a recess was a kind of
divan, surmounted with a stand of Arabian swords in silver scabbards, and
the handles resplendent with gems; from the ceiling hung a lamp of
Venetian glass, of beautiful shape and color, while the feet rested on a
Turkey carpet, in which they sunk to the instep; tapestry hung before the
door by which Franz had entered, and also in front of another door,
leading into a second apartment which seemed to be brilliantly
illuminated. The host gave Franz time to recover from his surprise, and,
moreover, returned look for look, not even taking his eyes off him.
"Sir," he said, after a pause, "a thousand excuses for the
precaution taken in your introduction hither; but as, during the greater
portion of the year, this island is deserted, if the secret of this abode
were discovered. I should doubtless, find on my return my temporary
retirement in a state of great disorder, which would be exceedingly
annoying, not for the loss it occasioned me, but because I should not have
the certainty I now possess of separating myself from all the rest of
mankind at pleasure. Let me now endeavor to make you forget this temporary
unpleasantness, and offer you what no doubt you did not expect to find
here--that is to say, a tolerable supper and pretty comfortable
beds." "Ma foi, my dear sir,"
replied Franz, "make no apologies. I have always observed that they
bandage people's eyes who penetrate enchanted palaces, for instance, those
of Raoul in the Huguenots, and really I have nothing to complain of, for
what I see makes me think of the wonders of the Arabian Nights." "Alas, I may say with
Lucullus, if I could have anticipated the honor of your visit, I would
have prepared for it. But such as is my hermitage, it is at your disposal;
such as is my supper, it is yours to share, if you will. Ali, is the
supper ready?" At this moment the tapestry moved
aside, and a Nubian, black as ebony, and dressed in a plain white tunic,
made a sign to his master that all was prepared in the dining-room. "Now," said the unknown
to Franz, "I do not know if you are of my opinion, but I think
nothing is more annoying than to remain two or three hours together
without knowing by name or appellation how to address one another. Pray
observe, that I too much respect the laws of hospitality to ask your name
or title. I only request you to give me one by which I may have the
pleasure of addressing you. As for myself, that I may put you at your
ease, I tell you that I am generally called 'Sinbad the Sailor.'" "And I," replied Franz,
"will tell you, as I only require his wonderful lamp to make me
precisely like Aladdin, that I see no reason why at this moment I should
not be called Aladdin. That will keep us from going away from the East
whither I am tempted to think I have been conveyed by some good
genius." "Well, then, Signor
Aladdin," replied the singular amphitryon, "you heard our repast
announced, will you now take the trouble to enter the dining-room, your
humble servant going first to show the way?" At these words, moving aside the
tapestry, Sinbad preceded his guest. Franz now looked upon another scene
of enchantment; the table was splendidly covered, and once convinced of
this important point he cast his eyes around him. The dining-room was
scarcely less striking than the room he had just left; it was entirely of
marble, with antique bas-reliefs of priceless value; and at the four
corners of this apartment, which was oblong, were four magnificent
statues, having baskets in their hands. These baskets contained four
pyramids of most splendid fruit; there were Sicily pine-apples,
pomegranates from Malaga, oranges from the Balearic Isles, peaches from
France, and dates from Tunis. The supper consisted of a roast
pheasant garnished with Corsican blackbirds; a boar's ham with jelly, a
quarter of a kid with tartar sauce, a glorious turbot, and a gigantic
lobster. Between these large dishes were smaller ones containing various
dainties. The dishes were of silver, and the plates of Japanese china. Franz rubbed his eyes in order to
assure himself that this was not a dream. Ali alone was present to wait at
table, and acquitted himself so admirably, that the guest complimented his
host thereupon. "Yes," replied he, while he did the honors of
the supper with much ease and grace--"yes, he is a poor devil who is
much devoted to me, and does all he can to prove it. He remembers that I
saved his life, and as he has a regard for his head, he feels some
gratitude towards me for having kept it on his shoulders." Ali
approached his master, took his hand, and kissed it. "Would it be impertinent,
Signor Sinbad," said Franz, "to ask you the particulars of this
kindness?" "Oh, they are simple
enough," replied the host. "It seems the fellow had been caught
wandering nearer to the harem of the Bey of Tunis than etiquette permits
to one of his color, and he was condemned by the bey to have his tongue
cut out, and his hand and head cut off; the tongue the first day, the hand
the second, and the head the third. I always had a desire to have a mute
in my service, so learning the day his tongue was cut out, I went to the
bey, and proposed to give him for Ali a splendid double-barreled gun which
I knew he was very desirous of having. He hesitated a moment, he was so
very desirous to complete the poor devil's punishment. But when I added to
the gun an English cutlass with which I had shivered his highness's
yataghan to pieces, the bey yielded, and agreed to forgive the hand and
head, but on condition that the poor fellow never again set foot in Tunis.
This was a useless clause in the bargain, for whenever the coward sees the
first glimpse of the shores of Africa, he runs down below, and can only be
induced to appear again when we are out of sight of that quarter of the
globe." Franz remained a moment silent
and pensive, hardly knowing what to think of the half-kindness,
half-cruelty, with which his host related the brief narrative. "And
like the celebrated sailor whose name you have assumed," he said, by
way of changing the conversation, "you pass your life in
travelling?" "Yes. I made a vow at a time
when I little thought I should ever be able to accomplish it," said
the unknown with a singular smile; "and I made some others also which
I hope I may fulfil in due season." Although Sinbad pronounced these
words with much calmness, his eyes gave forth gleams of extraordinary
ferocity. "You have suffered a great
deal, sir?" said Franz inquiringly. Sinbad started and looked fixedly
at him, as he replied, "What makes you suppose so?" "Everything," answered
Franz,--"your voice, your look, your pallid complexion, and even the
life you lead." "I?--I live the happiest
life possible, the real life of a pasha. I am king of all creation. I am
pleased with one place, and stay there; I get tired of it, and leave it; I
am free as a bird and have wings like one; my attendants obey my slightest
wish. Sometimes I amuse myself by delivering some bandit or criminal from
the bonds of the law. Then I have my mode of dispensing justice, silent
and sure, without respite or appeal, which condemns or pardons, and which
no one sees. Ah, if you had tasted my life, you would not desire any
other, and would never return to the world unless you had some great
project to accomplish there." "Revenge, for
instance!" observed Franz. The unknown fixed on the young
man one of those looks which penetrate into the depth of the heart and
thoughts. "And why revenge?" he asked. "Because," replied
Franz, "you seem to me like a man who, persecuted by society, has a
fearful account to settle with it." "Ah," responded Sinbad,
laughing with his singular laugh which displayed his white and sharp
teeth. "You have not guessed rightly. Such as you see me I am, a sort
of philosopher, and one day perhaps I shall go to Paris to rival Monsieur
Appert, and the little man in the blue cloak." "And will that be the first
time you ever took that journey?" "Yes; it will. I must seem
to you by no means curious, but I assure you that it is not my fault I
have delayed it so long--it will happen one day or the other." "And do you propose to make
this journey very shortly?" "I do not know; it depends
on circumstances which depend on certain arrangements." "I should like to be there
at the time you come, and I will endeavor to repay you, as far as lies in
my power, for your liberal hospitality displayed to me at Monte
Cristo." "I should avail myself of
your offer with pleasure," replied the host, "but,
unfortunately, if I go there, it will be, in all probability,
incognito." The supper appeared to have been
supplied solely for Franz, for the unknown scarcely touched one or two
dishes of the splendid banquet to which his guest did ample justice. Then
Ali brought on the dessert, or rather took the baskets from the hands of
the statues and placed them on the table. Between the two baskets he
placed a small silver cup with a silver cover. The care with which Ali
placed this cup on the table roused Franz's curiosity. He raised the cover
and saw a kind of greenish paste, something like preserved angelica, but
which was perfectly unknown to him. He replaced the lid, as ignorant of
what the cup contained as he was before he had looked at it, and then
casting his eyes towards his host he saw him smile at his disappointment.
"You cannot guess," said he, "what there is in that small
vase, can you?" "No, I really cannot." "Well, then, that green
preserve is nothing less than the ambrosia which Hebe served at the table
of Jupiter." "But," replied Franz,
"this ambrosia, no doubt, in passing through mortal hands has lost
its heavenly appellation and assumed a human name; in vulgar phrase, what
may you term this composition, for which, to tell the truth, I do not feel
any particular desire?" "Ah, thus it is that our
material origin is revealed," cried Sinbad; "we frequently pass
so near to happiness without seeing, without regarding it, or if we do see
and regard it, yet without recognizing it. Are you a man for the
substantials, and is gold your god? taste this, and the mines of Peru,
Guzerat, and Golconda are opened to you. Are you a man of imagination--a
poet? taste this, and the boundaries of possibility disappear; the fields
of infinite space open to you, you advance free in heart, free in mind,
into the boundless realms of unfettered revery. Are you ambitious, and do
you seek after the greatnesses of the earth? taste this, and in an hour
you will be a king, not a king of a petty kingdom hidden in some corner of
Europe like France, Spain, or England, but king of the world, king of the
universe, king of creation; without bowing at the feet of Satan, you will
be king and master of all the kingdoms of the earth. Is it not tempting
what I offer you, and is it not an easy thing, since it is only to do
thus? look!" At these words he uncovered the small cup which
contained the substance so lauded, took a teaspoonful of the magic
sweetmeat, raised it to his lips, and swallowed it slowly with his eyes
half shut and his head bent backwards. Franz did not disturb him whilst he
absorbed his favorite sweetmeat, but when he had finished, he
inquired,--"What, then, is this precious stuff?" "Did you ever hear," he
replied, "of the Old Man of the Mountain, who attempted to
assassinate Philip Augustus?" "Of course I have." "Well, you know he reigned
over a rich valley which was overhung by the mountain whence he derived
his picturesque name. In this valley were magnificent gardens planted by
Hassen-ben-Sabah, and in these gardens isolated pavilions. Into these
pavilions he admitted the elect, and there, says Marco Polo, gave them to
eat a certain herb, which transported them to Paradise, in the midst of
ever-blooming shrubs, ever-ripe fruit, and ever-lovely virgins. What these
happy persons took for reality was but a dream; but it was a dream so
soft, so voluptuous, so enthralling, that they sold themselves body and
soul to him who gave it to them, and obedient to his orders as to those of
a deity, struck down the designated victim, died in torture without a
murmur, believing that the death they underwent was but a quick transition
to that life of delights of which the holy herb, now before you had given
them a slight foretaste." "Then," cried Franz,
"it is hashish! I know that--by name at least." "That is it precisely,
Signor Aladdin; it is hashish--the purest and most unadulterated hashish
of Alexandria,--the hashish of Abou-Gor, the celebrated maker, the only
man, the man to whom there should be built a palace, inscribed with these
words, 'A grateful world to the dealer in happiness.'" "Do you know," said
Franz, "I have a very great inclination to judge for myself of the
truth or exaggeration of your eulogies." "Judge for yourself, Signor
Aladdin--judge, but do not confine yourself to one trial. Like everything
else, we must habituate the senses to a fresh impression, gentle or
violent, sad or joyous. There is a struggle in nature against this divine
substance,--in nature which is not made for joy and clings to pain. Nature
subdued must yield in the combat, the dream must succeed to reality, and
then the dream reigns supreme, then the dream becomes life, and life
becomes the dream. But what changes occur! It is only by comparing the
pains of actual being with the joys of the assumed existence, that you
would desire to live no longer, but to dream thus forever. When you return
to this mundane sphere from your visionary world, you would seem to leave
a Neapolitan spring for a Lapland winter--to quit paradise for
earth--heaven for hell! Taste the hashish, guest of mine--taste the
hashish." Franz's only reply was to take a
teaspoonful of the marvellous preparation, about as much in quantity as
his host had eaten, and lift it to his mouth. "Diable!" he said,
after having swallowed the divine preserve. "I do not know if the
result will be as agreeable as you describe, but the thing does not appear
to me as palatable as you say." "Because your palate his not
yet been attuned to the sublimity of the substances it flavors. Tell me,
the first time you tasted oysters, tea, porter, truffles, and sundry other
dainties which you now adore, did you like them? Could you comprehend how
the Romans stuffed their pheasants with assafoetida, and the Chinese eat
swallows' nests? Eh? no! Well, it is the same with hashish; only eat for a
week, and nothing in the world will seem to you to equal the delicacy of
its flavor, which now appears to you flat and distasteful. Let us now go
into the adjoining chamber, which is your apartment, and Ali will bring us
coffee and pipes." They both arose, and while he who called himself
Sinbad--and whom we have occasionally named so, that we might, like his
guest, have some title by which to distinguish him--gave some orders to
the servant, Franz entered still another apartment. It was simply yet
richly furnished. It was round, and a large divan completely encircled it.
Divan, walls, ceiling, floor, were all covered with magnificent skins as
soft and downy as the richest carpets; there were heavy-maned lion-skins
from Atlas, striped tiger-skins from Bengal; panther-skins from the Cape,
spotted beautifully, like those that appeared to Dante; bear-skins from
Siberia, fox-skins from Norway, and so on; and all these skins were strewn
in profusion one on the other, so that it seemed like walking over the
most mossy turf, or reclining on the most luxurious bed. Both laid
themselves down on the divan; chibouques with jasmine tubes and amber
mouthpieces were within reach, and all prepared so that there was no need
to smoke the same pipe twice. Each of them took one, which Ali lighted and
then retired to prepare the coffee. There was a moment's silence, during
which Sinbad gave himself up to thoughts that seemed to occupy him
incessantly, even in the midst of his conversation; and Franz abandoned
himself to that mute revery, into which we always sink when smoking
excellent tobacco, which seems to remove with its fume all the troubles of
the mind, and to give the smoker in exchange all the visions of the soul.
Ali brought in the coffee. "How do you take it?"
inquired the unknown; "in the French or Turkish style, strong or
weak, sugar or none, cool or boiling? As you please; it is ready in all
ways." "I will take it in the
Turkish style," replied Franz. "And you are right,"
said his host; "it shows you have a tendency for an Oriental life.
Ah, those Orientals; they are the only men who know how to live. As for
me," he added, with one of those singular smiles which did not escape
the young man, "when I have completed my affairs in Paris, I shall go
and die in the East; and should you wish to see me again, you must seek me
at Cairo, Bagdad, or Ispahan." "Ma foi!" said Franz,
"it would be the easiest thing in the world; for I feel eagle's wings
springing out at my shoulders, and with those wings I could make a tour of
the world in four and twenty hours." "Ah, yes, the hashish is
beginning its work. Well, unfurl your wings, and fly into superhuman
regions; fear nothing, there is a watch over you; and if your wings, like
those of Icarus, melt before the sun, we are here to ease your fall."
He then said something in Arabic to Ali, who made a sign of obedience and
withdrew, but not to any distance. As to Franz a strange transformation
had taken place in him. All the bodily fatigue of the day, all the
preoccupation of mind which the events of the evening had brought on,
disappeared as they do at the first approach of sleep, when we are still
sufficiently conscious to be aware of the coming of slumber. His body
seemed to acquire an airy lightness, his perception brightened in a
remarkable manner, his senses seemed to redouble their power, the horizon
continued to expand; but it was not the gloomy horizon of vague alarms,
and which he had seen before he slept, but a blue, transparent, unbounded
horizon, with all the blue of the ocean, all the spangles of the sun, all
the perfumes of the summer breeze; then, in the midst of the songs of his
sailors,--songs so clear and sonorous, that they would have made a divine
harmony had their notes been taken down,--he saw the Island of Monte
Cristo, no longer as a threatening rock in the midst of the waves, but as
an oasis in the desert; then, as his boat drew nearer, the songs became
louder, for an enchanting and mysterious harmony rose to heaven, as if
some Loreley had decreed to attract a soul thither, or Amphion, the
enchanter, intended there to build a city. At length the boat touched the
shore, but without effort, without shock, as lips touch lips; and he
entered the grotto amidst continued strains of most delicious melody. He
descended, or rather seemed to descend, several steps, inhaling the fresh
and balmy air, like that which may be supposed to reign around the grotto
of Circe, formed from such perfumes as set the mind a dreaming, and such
fires as burn the very senses; and he saw again all he had seen before his
sleep, from Sinbad, his singular host, to Ali, the mute attendant; then
all seemed to fade away and become confused before his eyes, like the last
shadows of the magic lantern before it is extinguished, and he was again
in the chamber of statues, lighted only by one of those pale and antique
lamps which watch in the dead of the night over the sleep of pleasure.
They were the same statues, rich in form, in attraction. and poesy, with
eyes of fascination, smiles of love, and bright and flowing hair. They
were Phryne, Cleopatra, Messalina, those three celebrated courtesans. Then
among them glided like a pure ray, like a Christian angel in the midst of
Olympus, one of those chaste figures, those calm shadows, those soft
visions, which seemed to veil its virgin brow before these marble wantons.
Then the three statues advanced towards him with looks of love, and
approached the couch on which he was reposing, their feet hidden in their
long white tunics, their throats bare, hair flowing like waves, and
assuming attitudes which the gods could not resist, but which saints
withstood, and looks inflexible and ardent like those with which the
serpent charms the bird; and then he gave way before looks that held him
in a torturing grasp and delighted his senses as with a voluptuous kiss.
It seemed to Franz that he closed his eyes, and in a last look about him
saw the vision of modesty completely veiled; and then followed a dream of
passion like that promised by the Prophet to the elect. Lips of stone
turned to flame, breasts of ice became like heated lava, so that to Franz,
yielding for the first time to the sway of the drug, love was a sorrow and
voluptuousness a torture, as burning mouths were pressed to his thirsty
lips, and he was held in cool serpent-like embraces. The more he strove
against this unhallowed passion the more his senses yielded to its thrall,
and at length, weary of a struggle that taxed his very soul, he gave way
and sank back breathless and exhausted beneath the kisses of these marble
goddesses, and the enchantment of his marvellous dream. |
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