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 Cafe 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