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 seating himself opposite to the door, and placing between his legs an earthen pan, containing chick-pease stewed with bacon. Near the pan he also placed a pretty little basket of Villetri grapes and a flask of Orvieto. Peppino was decidedly an epicure. Danglars watched these preparations and his mouth watered. "Come," he said to himself, "let me try if he will be more tractable than the other;" and he tapped gently at the door. "On y va," (coming) exclaimed Peppino, who from frequenting the house of Signor Pastrini understood French perfectly in all its idioms.

Danglars immediately recognized him as the man who had called out in such a furious manner, "Put in your head!" But this was not the time for recrimination, so he assumed his most agreeable manner and said with a gracious smile,--"Excuse me, sir, but are they not going to give me any dinner?"

"Does your excellency happen to be hungry?"

"Happen to be hungry,--that's pretty good, when I haven't eaten for twenty-four hours!" muttered Danglars. Then he added aloud, "Yes, sir, I am hungry--very hungry."

"What would your excellency like?" and Peppino placed his pan on the ground, so that the steam rose directly under the nostrils of Danglars. "Give your orders."

"Have you kitchens here?"

"Kitchens?--of course--complete ones."

"And cooks?"

"Excellent!"

"Well, a fowl, fish, game,--it signifies little, so that I eat."

"As your excellency pleases. You mentioned a fowl, I think?"

"Yes, a fowl." Peppino, turning around, shouted, "A fowl for his excellency!" His voice yet echoed in the archway when a handsome, graceful, and half-naked young man appeared, bearing a fowl in a silver dish on his head, without the assistance of his hands. "I could almost believe myself at the Café de Paris," murmured Danglars.

"Here, your excellency," said Peppino, taking the fowl from the young bandit and placing it on the worm-eaten table, which with the stool and the goat-skin bed formed the entire furniture of the cell. Danglars asked for a knife and fork. "Here, excellency," said Peppino, offering him a little blunt knife and a boxwood fork. Danglars took the knife in one hand and the fork in the other, and was about to cut up the fowl. "Pardon me, excellency," said Peppino, placing his hand on the banker's shoulder; "people pay here before they eat. They might not be satisfied, and"--

"Ah, ha," thought Danglars, "this is not so much like Paris, except that I shall probably be skinned! Never mind, I'll fix that all right. I have always heard how cheap poultry is in Italy; I should think a fowl is worth about twelve sous at Rome.--There," he said, throwing a louis down. Peppino picked up the louis, and Danglars again prepared to carve the fowl. "Stay a moment, your excellency," said Peppino, rising; "you still owe me something."

"I said they would skin me," thought Danglars; but resolving to resist the extortion, he said, "Come, how much do I owe you for this fowl?"

"Your excellency has given me a louis on account."

"A louis on account for a fowl?"

"Certainly; and your excellency now owes me 4,999 louis." Danglars opened his enormous eyes on hearing this gigantic joke. "Come, come, this is very droll--very amusing--I allow; but, as I am very hungry, pray allow me to eat. Stay, here is another louis for you."

"Then that will make only 4,998 louis more," said Peppino with the same indifference. "I shall get them all in time."

"Oh, as for that," said Danglars, angry at this prolongation of the jest,--"as for that you won't get them at all. Go to the devil! You do not know with whom you have to deal!" Peppino made a sign, and the youth hastily removed the fowl. Danglars threw himself upon his goat-skin, and Peppino, reclosing the door, again began eating his pease and bacon. Though Danglars could not see Peppino, the noise of his teeth allowed no doubt as to his occupation. He was certainly eating, and noisily too, like an ill-bred man. "Brute!" said Danglars. Peppino pretended not to hear him, and without even turning his head continued to eat slowly. Danglars' stomach felt so empty, that it seemed as if it would be impossible ever to fill it again; still he had patience for another half-hour, which appeared to him like a century. He again arose and went to the door. "Come, sir, do not keep me starving here any longer, but tell me what they want."

"Nay, your excellency, it is you who should tell us what you want. Give your orders, and we will execute them."

"Then open the door directly." Peppino obeyed. "Now look here, I want something to eat! To eat--do you hear?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Come, you understand me."

"What would your excellency like to eat?"

"A piece of dry bread, since the fowls are beyond all price in this accursed place."

"Bread? Very well. Hallo, there, some bread!" he called. The youth brought a small loaf. "How much?" asked Danglars.

"Four thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight louis," said Peppino; "You have paid two louis in advance."

"What? One hundred thousand francs for a loaf?"

"One hundred thousand francs," repeated Peppino.

"But you only asked 100,000 francs for a fowl!"

"We have a fixed price for all our provisions. It signifies nothing whether you eat much or little--whether you have ten dishes or one--it is always the same price."

"What, still keeping up this silly jest? My dear fellow, it is perfectly ridiculous--stupid! You had better tell me at once that you intend starving me to death."

"Oh, dear, no, your excellency, unless you intend to commit suicide. Pay and eat."

"And what am I to pay with, brute?" said Danglars, enraged. "Do you suppose I carry 100,000 francs in my pocket?"

"Your excellency has 5,050,000 francs in your pocket; that will be fifty fowls at 100,000 francs apiece, and half a fowl for the 50,000."

Danglars shuddered. The bandage fell from his eyes, and he understood the joke, which he did not think quite so stupid as he had done just before. "Come," he said, "if I pay you the 100,000 francs, will you be satisfied, and allow me to eat at my ease?"

"Certainly," said Peppino.

"But how can I pay them?"

"Oh, nothing easier; you have an account open with Messrs. Thomson & French, Via dei Banchi, Rome; give me a draft for 4,998 louis on these gentlemen, and our banker shall take it." Danglars thought it as well to comply with a good grace, so he took the pen, ink, and paper Peppino offered him, wrote the draft, and signed it. "Here," he said, "here is a draft at sight."

"And here is your fowl." Danglars sighed while he carved the fowl; it appeared very thin for the price it had cost. As for Peppino, he examined the paper attentively, put it into his pocket, and continued eating his pease.

除了腾格拉尔所害怕的那种睡眠以外，我们每一次睡觉总是要醒过来的。他醒了。对于一个睡惯了绸床单，看惯了天鹅绒的壁帏和嗅惯了檀香香味的巴黎人，在一个石灰岩的石洞里醒来自然象是一个不快意的梦境。但在这种情形之下，一眨眼的时间已足够使最强烈的怀疑变成确定无疑的事实。

“是的，”他对自己说，“我是落在阿尔贝·马尔塞夫所说的那批强盗手里了。”他的第一个动作是作一次深呼吸，以确认自己究竟是否受伤。这种方法他是从《堂吉诃德传》里学来的，他生平并非仅仅读过这一本书，但仅有这一本书他还保留着一些印象。

“不，”他大声说，“他们并没有杀死我或打伤我，但他们或许已抢去了我的东西！”于是他双手赶紧去摸口袋里，他找到了那只装着五百零五万法郎支付券的小皮夹。“奇怪的强盗！”他自语道，“他们没有拿走我的钱袋和皮夹。正如我昨天晚上所说的，他们是要我付赎款。啊！我的表还在这儿！让我来看看现在几点了。”腾格拉尔的表是钟表名匠勃里古的杰作，昨天晚上他小心的包着藏起来，现在时针正指在五点半上。假如没有这只表，腾格拉尔就无法知道白天还是黑夜，因为光是不能射到这间地窖里来的。他应该要求和强盗谈判呢，还是耐心地等待他们来提出？后面这个办法似乎更妥当，所以他就等着。他一直等待到十二点钟。在这期间，他的门口有一个哨兵始终在守着。八点钟的时候，哨兵换了一次班。腾格拉尔突然有一种强烈的愿望，想去看一看看守他的那个人。

他注意到把有几缕灯光从那扇拼得不甚严密的门板缝中透进来。他把眼睛凑到一条门缝上，正巧看见那个强盗在饮白兰地酒，那种酒，因为装在一只皮囊里，所以发出一种使腾格拉尔嗅了极不愉快的气味。“啐！”他喊了一声，退回到地窖最远的那个角落里。

十二点的时候，又有一个强盗来换班，腾格拉尔想看一看这个新的看守人，便又走近门去。他是一个身材魁伟、肌肉发达的强盗，大眼睛，厚嘴唇，塌鼻子，他的红头发象蛇似的披散在肩上。“啊，上帝呀，”腾格拉尔喊道，“这个家伙象是一个吃人的妖怪，但是，我太老了，啃起来太硬，吃起来也没有味道。”由此可见，腾格拉尔还有足够的精力来开玩笑。正在那时，象是要证明他不是一个吃人的妖怪似的，那人从他的干粮袋里取出一些黑面包、黄油和大蒜，开始狼吞虎咽地大嚼起来。

“见鬼，”腾格拉尔从门缝里注视着强盗的那顿午餐说，——“见鬼，我真不懂人怎么能吃那样的脏东西！”于是他退回去坐在床上，那羊皮又使他想起了刚才的那种酒味。

但自然的规律是无法违背的，对于一个饥饿的胃，即使最粗糙的食物也具有不可抗拒的吸引力。腾格拉尔当时觉得他自己的胃里没有资源了，渐渐地，在他看来那个人似乎没有那样丑了，面包也没有那样黑了，黄油也比较新鲜了。甚至庸俗的大蒜——令人讨厌的野蛮人的食物也使他想起了以前当他吩咐厨子准备鸡汤时连带端上来的精美的小菜。他站起身，敲一敲门，那强盗抬起头来。腾格拉尔知道他已听见，便再连续敲门。“Ｃｈｅｃｏｓａ？”［意大利语：“干什么？——译注］这强盗问。

“来，来，”腾格拉尔用手指敲着门说，“我想，这个时候也应该弄点东西来给我吃了吧！”

但不知道究竟是因为听不懂他的话，是因为他没有接到过如何对待腾格拉尔的营养问题的命令，那看守并不回答，只是继续吃他的黑面包。腾格拉尔感到自己的自尊心受了伤，他不再想和这个丑恶的家伙打交道，把自己往羊皮床上一搁，不再吭声。

又过了四个钟头，另一个强盗来换班。腾格拉尔的胃这时痛得象有什么东西在啮咬似的，他慢慢地站起来，再把他的眼睛凑在门缝上，认出了他那个聪明的向导的脸。这个人的确是庇皮诺，他正在准备以最舒服的方式来担任这项看守工作。他面对门坐着，两腿之间放着一只瓦盆，瓦盆里装的是咸肉煮豌豆，瓦盆旁边还有一小筐韦莱特里葡萄和一瓶奥维多酒。庇皮诺显然是一个对饮食讲究的人。看到这种情景腾格拉尔顿时口水直流。’好吧，”他心想，“我来看看他是否比那一个好说话！”于是他轻轻地敲敲门。

“来了！”庇皮诺喊道，他时常在派里尼老板的旅馆里进出，完全懂得法国人的习惯。

腾格拉尔立刻认出他就是那个在路上恶狠狠地对他吆喝”

“把头缩进去！”的那个人。但现在不是报复的时候，所以他装出最亲热的态度，带着一个和蔼的微笑说：“对不起，阁下，他们难道不准备给我吃东西吗？”

“大人可是有点饿了？”

“有点儿！不饿才怪呢，我有二十四小时没有吃东西啦！”

腾格拉尔自言自语道。然后他提高了声音说，“是的，阁下，我肚子饿了，——非常饿了！”

“那么大人希望——”

“马上就有东西吃，如果可能的话。”

“那是最容易的事情了，”庇皮诺说，“我们这儿要吃什么有什么，但当然得付钱，象在所有诚实的基督徒之间一样。”

“当然罗！”腾格拉尔喊道，“可是按理说，那些抓人的人至少应该喂饱他们的俘虏。”

“啊，大人！”庇皮诺答道，“我们这儿可没有这种规矩。”

“这个理由实在不充分，”腾格拉尔说，他觉得他的监守者很和善可亲，“可是，这样我也满意了。好吧，，拿一点东西给我吃吧。”

“马上就拿来。大人喜欢吃什么？”于是庇皮诺便把他的瓦盆放在地上，让咸肉煮豌豆的香味直冲进腾格拉尔的鼻孔里。“请吩咐吧！”

“你们这儿有厨房吗？”

“厨房？当然有，”我们这儿完整得很！”

“厨师呢？”

“都是一流的！”

“嗯，鸡、鱼、野禽，什么都行，我都吃的。”

“只替大人欢喜。您要一只鸡吧，我想？”

“好吧，一只鸡。”

庇皮诺转过身去喊道：“给大人拿一只鸡来！”

他这句话的回声还在甬道里回荡未绝，一个英俊、和蔼、赤膊的年轻人便出现了，他头顶着一只银盘走过来，并不用手去抹，银盘里盛着一只鸡。

“我几乎要相信自己是在巴黎咖啡馆里啦！”腾格拉尔自言自语地说。

“来了，大人！”庇皮诺一面说，一面从那小强盗的头上取下鸡，把它放在地窖里一张蛀得满是斑孔的桌子上。这张桌子，再加上一条长凳和那张羊皮床，便是地窖里的全部家当了。腾格拉尔又要刀和叉。“喏，大人，”庇皮诺一面说，一面给他一把钝口的小刀和一只黄杨木做的餐叉。腾格拉尔一手拿刀，一手拿叉，准备切那只鸡。

“原谅我，大人，”庇皮诺把手按在那银行家的眉头上说，“这儿的人是先付款后吃饭的。您这样会使他们不高兴，可是——”

“啊，啊！”腾格拉尔心想，“这就不象巴黎了，——我刚才倒没有想到他们会敲我的竹杠！但我慷慨一些吧。听说意大利的东西便宜，一只鸡在罗马大概值十二个铜板。拿去吧。”

说着他朝地下抛了一块金路易。

庇皮诺拾起那块金路易。腾格拉尔刚要割那只鸡。“等一等，大人，”庇皮诺起身来说，“你还欠我一些钱呢。”

“我说他们会敲我竹杠的，”腾格拉尔心想，但也决定要对这种敲诈逆来顺受，便说，“来，你说我在这只鸡上还欠你多少钱？”

“大人付了我一块路易的定洋。”

“一块路易吃一只鸡还算是定洋！”

“当然罗，大人现在还欠我四千九百九十九块路易！”

腾格拉尔张大眼睛听这个大笑话。’啊！奇怪，”他吃惊地说，“奇怪！”

于是他又准备去切那只鸡，但庇皮诺用他的左手抓住腾格拉尔的右手，他的右手则伸到腾格拉司的面前。“拿来。”他说。

“什么！你不是开玩笑吧？”腾格拉尔说。

“我们是从来不开玩笑的，大人。”庇皮诺说，严肃得象一个教友派教徒一样。

“什么，一只鸡要卖十万法郎？”

“大人，您无法想象在这种该死的地洞里养鸡是多么的困难。”

“算了吧，算了吧，”腾格拉尔说，“这种玩笑真是滑稽，有趣，我的肚子实在饿极了，所以还是让我吃吧。喏，再拿一块路易给你。”

“那么只欠四千九百九十八块路易了。”庇皮诺还是用那种口气说，“我们耐心地等你付清。

“噢！那个，”腾格拉尔对于他这样非常气愤，“那个，你是决不会成功的。去见鬼吧！你不知道你的对手是谁！”

庇皮诺一挥手，那青年强盗便急忙搬开那盘鸡。腾格拉尔往他的羊皮床上一躺，而庇皮诺则关上门，重新开始吃他的咸肉豆。腾格拉尔虽然看不见庇皮诺的吃相，但吃东西的咀嚼声显然说明了他在吃东西，而且吃得颇有滋味，象那些没有教养的人一样。腾格拉尔觉得他的胃似乎穿了底了。他不知道他究竟是否还能再填满它，可是他居然又熬了半个钟头，那半个钟头象一世纪那样的悠久。他再站起身来，走到门口。“来，阁下，”他说，“别让我再挨饿了，告诉我吧，他们究竟要我怎么样。”

“不，大人，应该说你要我们怎么样。请您吩咐，我们马上可以照办。”

“那么马上开门。”

庇皮诺遵命。

“哼！我要吃东西！——要吃东西你听到了吗？”

“你饿了吗？”

“算了吧。你知道的。”

“大人喜欢吃什么东西呢？”

“既然这个鬼地方的鸡这样贵，就给我来一块干面包吧。”

“面包？好极了。喂，听着！拿点面包来！”他喊道。

小强盗拿来一小块面包。

“多少钱？”腾格拉尔问。

“四千九百九十八块路易，”庇皮诺说，“您已经预付过两路易了。”

“什么！十万法郎一块面包？”

“十万法郎。”庇皮诺重复一遍。

“一只鸡你要我十万法郎呀！”

“我们这儿不是按菜论钱而是每餐有定价的。不论您吃多吃少，不论您吃十碟或一碟，价钱总是一样的。”

“什么！还要开这种无聊的玩笑吗？我的好人哪，这可是太蠢，太荒谬啦！你还是干脆告诉我吧，究竟你们是不是饿死我。”

“不，上帝哪，不，大人，除非是您想自杀。我们这儿是付钱就可以吃东西。”

“你叫我拿什么来付呢，畜生？”腾格拉尔怒道。“你以为我会在口袋里带着十万法郎出门吗？”

“大人的口袋里有五百零五万法郎，十万法郎一只的鸡可以吃五十只半。”

腾格拉尔打了一个寒颤。他现在明白了，他先前的想法是完全错误的。“来，”他说，“假如我付给你十万法郎，你就说话算数，肯让我安安稳稳地吃了吗？”

“当然罗。”庇皮诺说。

“我怎么付钱呢？”

“噢，那是最容易的了，您在罗马银行街的汤姆生·弗伦奇银行里开有户头，开一张四千九百九十八路易支票给我，我们自然会托我们的往来银行去代收的。”

腾格拉尔觉得他还是顺从他的好，所以他就接过庇皮诺给他的笔、墨水和纸、写了支票，签了字。“喏，”他说，——

“这是一张凭票即付的支票。”

“这是您的鸡。”

腾格拉尔一面吃鸡，一面叹气，这只用十万法郎的代价换来的鸡简直瘦极了。庇皮诺仔细地把支票看了看，就把它放进口袋里，然后继续吃他的豆。