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.

Chapter 115. Luigi Vampa's Bill of Fare.

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 awaken