Peppino stopped before a pit overhung by thick hedges; the pit, half open, afforded a passage to the young man, who disappeared like the evil spirits in the fairy tales.The voice and gesture of the man who followed Danglars ordered him to do the same.There was no longer any doubt, the bankrupt was in the hands of Roman banditti.Danglars acquitted himself like a man placed between two dangerous positions, and who is rendered brave by fear.
Notwithstanding his large stomach, certainly not intended to penetrate the fissures of the Campagna, he slid down like Peppino, and closing his eyes fell upon his feet.As he touched the ground, he opened his eyes.The path was wide, but dark.Peppino, who cared little for being recognized now that he was in his own territories, struck a light and lit a torch.Two other men descended after Danglars forming the rearguard, and pushing Danglars whenever he happened to stop, they came by a gentle declivity to the intersection of two corridors.The walls were hollowed out in sepulchres, one above the other, and which seemed in contrast with the white stones to open their large dark eyes, like those which we see on the faces of the dead.A sentinel struck the rings of his carbine against his left hand."Who comes there?" he cried.
"A friend, a friend!" said Peppino; "but where is the captain?""There," said the sentinel, pointing over his shoulder to a spacious crypt, hollowed out of the rock, the lights from which shone into the passage through the large arched openings."Fine spoil, captain, fine spoil!" said Peppino in Italian, and taking Danglars by the collar of his coat he dragged him to an opening resembling a door, through which they entered the apartment which the captain appeared to have made his dwelling-place.
"Is this the man?" asked the captain, who was attentively reading Plutarch's "Life of Alexander.""Himself, captain -- himself."
"Very well, show him to me." At this rather impertinent order, Peppino raised his torch to the face of Danglars, who hastily withdrew that he might not have his eyelashes burnt.
His agitated features presented the appearance of pale and hideous terror."The man is tired," said the captain, "conduct him to his bed.""Oh," murmured Danglars," that bed is probably one of the coffins hollowed in the wall, and the sleep I shall enjoy will be death from one of the poniards I see glistening in the darkness."From their beds of dried leaves or wolf-skins at the back of the chamber now arose the companions of the man who had been found by Albert de Morcerf reading "Caesar's Commentaries,"and by Danglars studying the "Life of Alexander." The banker uttered a groan and followed his guide; he neither supplicated nor exclaimed.He no longer possessed strength, will, power, or feeling; he followed where they led him.At length he found himself at the foot of a staircase, and he mechanically lifted his foot five or six times.Then a low door was opened before him, and bending his head to avoid striking his forehead he entered a small room cut out of the rock.The cell was clean, though empty, and dry, though situated at an immeasurable distance under the earth.A bed of dried grass covered with goat-skins was placed in one corner.Danglars brightened up on beholding it, fancying that it gave some promise of safety."Oh, God be praised,"he said; "it is a real bed!"
"Ecco!" said the guide, and pushing Danglars into the cell, he closed the door upon him.A bolt grated and Danglars was a prisoner.If there had been no bolt, it would have been impossible for him to pass through the midst of the garrison who held the catacombs of St.Sebastian, encamped round a master whom our readers must have recognized as the famous Luigi Vampa.Danglars, too, had recognized the bandit, whose existence he would not believe when Albert de Morcerf mentioned him in Paris; and not only did he recognize him, but the cell in which Albert had been confined, and which was probably kept for the accommodation of strangers.These recollections were dwelt upon with some pleasure by Danglars, and restored him to some degree of tranquillity.
Since the bandits had not despatched him at once, he felt that they would not kill him at all.They had arrested him for the purpose of robbery, and as he had only a few louis about him, he doubted not he would be ransomed.He remembered that Morcerf had been taxed at 4,000 crowns, and as he considered himself of much greater importance than Morcerf he fixed his own price at 8,000 crowns.Eight thousand crowns amounted to 48,000 livres; he would then have about 5,050,000 francs left.With this sum he could manage to keep out of difficulties.Therefore, tolerably 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.