singular enough. As to Franz, he had no longer any inducement to
remain at Monte-Cristo. He had lost all hope of detecting the secret
of the grotto; he consequently dispatched his breakfast, and, his bark
being ready, he hastened on board. He took a last look after the yacht:
it was disappearing in the gulf of Porto Vecchio. He gave the signal
to depart, and at the moment the bark began her course, they lost sight
of the yacht. With it was effaced the last trace of the preceding
night; and then supper, Sindbad, hashish, statues, all became a dream for Franz.
The bark went on all day and all night, and next morning, when the sun rose, they had lost sight of Monte-Cristo.
When Franz had once again set foot on shore, he forgot, for the moment at least, the events which had just passed, whilst he finished his affairs of pleasure at Florence, and then thought of nothing but how he should rejoin his companion, who was awaiting him at Rome.
He set out, and on the Saturday evening reached the Place de la Douane by the malle-poste. An apartment, as we have said, had been retained beforehand, and thus he had but to go to the hotel of Maitre Pastrini. But this was not so easy a matter, for the streets were thronged with people, and Rome was already a prey to that low and feverish murmur which precedes all great events; and at Rome there are four great events in every year the Carnival, the Holy Week, the Corpus Christi, and the St. Peter.
All the rest of the year the city is in that state of dull apathy, between life and death, which renders it similar to a kind of station between this world and the next a sublime spot, a resting-place full of poetry and character, and at which Franz had already halted five or six times, and at each time found it more marvelous and striking.
At last he made his way through this mob, which was always becom ing larger and more agitated, and reached the hotel. On his first inquiry he was told, with the impertinence peculiar to hackney-coachmen who are hired and innkeepers with their houses full, that there was no room for him at the Hotel de Londres. Then he sent his card to Maitre Pastrini, and demanded Albert de Morcerf . This plan succeeded; and Maitre Pastrini himself ran to him, excusing himself for having made his excellency wait, scolding the waiters, taking the candlestick in his hand from the cicerone, who was ready to pounce on the traveler, and was about to lead him to Albert when Morcerf himself appeared.
The apartment consisted of two small rooms and a closet. The two rooms looked on to the street a fact which Maitre Pastrini commented upon as an inappreciable advantage. The remainder of the story was hired by a very rich gentleman, who was supposed to be a
