Giovanni obeyed. Franz took the lamp, and entered the subterranean
grotto, followed by Gaetano. He recognized the place where he had
awoke, by the bed of heather that was there; but it was in vain that
he carried his torch all round the exterior surface of the grotto. He
saw nothing, unless that, by traces of smoke, others had before him
attempted the same thing, and like him in vain. Yet he did not leave
a foot of this granite wall, as impenetrable as futurity, without strict
scrutiny; he did not see a fissure without introducing the blade of his
hunting-sword into it, nor a projecting point on which he did not lean
and press, in the hopes it would give way. All was vain; and he lost two hours in his attempts, which were at last utterly useless.
At the end of this time he gave up his research, and Graetano smiled.
When Franz appeared again on the shore, the yacht only seemed like a small white speck on the horizon. He looked again through his glass, but even then he could not distinguish anything.
Graetano reminded him that he had come for the purpose of shooting goats, which he had utterly forgotten. He took his fowling-piece, and began to hunt over the isle with the air of a man who is fulfilling a duty rather than enjoying a pleasure; and at the end of a quarter of an hour he had killed a goat and two kids. These animals, though wild and agile as chamois, were too much like domestic goats, and Franz could not consider them as game. Moreover, other ideas, much more powerful, 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 toward 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 toward Corsica.
"Why," he remarked to Gaetano, "you told me that Signor Sindbad was going to Malaga, whilst it seems he is in the direction of Porto Vecchio."
"Don't you remember," said the master, "I told you that amongst the crew there were two Corsican brigands?"
"True, and he is going to land them," added Franz.
"Precisely so," replied Gaetano. "Ah! he is an individual who fears neither God nor devil, 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
