oreover, other ideas, much more enthralling, occupied his mind. Since,
the evening before, he had really been the hero of one of the tales of
the "Thousand and One Nights," and he was irresistibly attracted towards
the grotto. Then, in spite of the failure of his first search, he began
a second, after having told Gaetano to roast one of the two kids. The
second visit was a long one, and when he returned the kid was roasted
and the repast ready. Franz was sitting on the spot where he was on the
previous evening when his mysterious host had invited him to supper; and
he saw the little yacht, now like a sea-gull on the wave, continuing her
flight towards Corsica. "Why," he remarked to Gaetano, "you told me that
Signor Sinbad was going to Malaga, while it seems he is in the direction
of Porto-Vecchio."

"Don't you remember," said the patron, "I told you that among the crew
there were two Corsican brigands?"

"True; and he is going to land them," added Franz.

"Precisely so," replied Gaetano. "Ah, he is one who fears neither God
nor Satan, they say, and would at any time run fifty leagues out of his
course to do a poor devil a service."

"But such services as these might involve him with the authorities
of the country in which he practices this kind of philanthropy," said
Franz.

"And what cares he for that," replied Gaetano with a laugh, "or any
authorities? He smiles at them. Let them try to pursue him! Why, in the
first place, his yacht is not a ship, but a bird, and he would beat any
frigate three knots in every nine; and if he were to throw himself on
the coast, why, is he not certain of finding friends everywhere?"

It was perfectly clear that the Signor Sinbad, Franz's host, had the
honor of being on excellent terms with the smugglers and bandits
along the whole coast of the Mediterranean, and so enjoyed exceptional
privileges. 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 despatched his breakfast, and, his boat being
ready, he hastened on board, and they were soon under way. At the
moment the boat began her course they lost sight of the yacht, as it
disappeared in the gulf of Porto-Vecchio. With it was effaced the
last trace of the preceding night; and then supper, Sinbad, hashish,
statues,--all became a dream for Franz. The boat sailed on all day and
all night, and next morning, when the sun rose, they had los