"Then you know the men who are now on Monte-Cristo?"
"Oh, yes; we sailors are like freemasons, and recognize each other by signs."
"And do you think we have nothing to fear if we land?"
"Nothing at all! smugglers are not thieves."
"But these two Corsican bandits?" said Franz, calculating beforehand the chances of peril.
"It is not their fault that they are bandits, but that of the authorities."
"How so?"
"Because they are pursued for having made a peau, nothing else, as if it was not in a Corsican's nature to revenge himself."
"What do you mean by having made a peau?—having assassinated a man?" said Franz, continuing his investigation.
"I mean that they have killed an enemy, which is a very different thing," returned the captain.
"Well," said the young man, "let us demand hospitality of these smugglers and bandits. Do you think they will grant it?"
"Without doubt."
"How many are there?"
"Four, and the two bandits make six."
"Just our number, so that if these gentlemen prove troublesome, we shall be able to check them; so, for the last time, steer to Monte-Cristo."
"Yes, but your excellency will permit us to take all due precautions."
"By all means; be as wise as Nestor, and as prudent as Ulysses. I do more than permit, I exhort you."
"Silence, then!" said Gaetano.
Every one obeyed. For a man who, like Franz, viewed his position in its true light, it was, without being dangerous, a grave one.
He was alone in the darkness in the middle of the sea, with sailors whom he did not know, and who had no reason to be devoted to him; who knew that he had in his belt several thousand francs, and who had often examined his arms, which were very beautiful, if not with envy, at least with curiosity. On the other hand, he was about to land without any other escort than these men, on an island whose name was religious, but which did not seem to Franz likely to afford him other hospitality than that of Calvary to Christ, thanks to the smugglers and bandits. The history of the scuttled vessels, which had appeared improbable during the day, seemed very probable at night. Placed as he was between two imaginary dangers, he did not quit the crew with his eyes, or his gun with his hand.
However, the sailors had again hoisted the sail, and the vessel was once more cleaving the waves. Through the darkness Franz, whose
