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