“What think you of that?” inquired Franz.
“Have you the money he demands?”
“Yes, all but eight hundred piastres.”
The count went to his secrétaire, opened it, and pulling out a drawer filled with gold, said to Franz, “I hope you will not offend me by applying to anyone but myself.”
“You see, on the contrary, I come to you first and instantly,” replied Franz.
“And I thank you; have what you will;” and he made a sign to Franz to take what he pleased.
“Is it absolutely necessary, then, to send the money to Luigi Vampa?” asked the young man, looking fixedly in his turn at the count.
“Judge for yourself,” replied he. “The postscript is explicit.”
“I think that if you would take the trouble of reflecting, you could find a way of simplifying the negotiation,” said Franz.
“How so?” returned the count, with surprise.
“If we were to go together to Luigi Vampa, I am sure he would not refuse you Albert’s freedom.”
“What influence can I possibly have over a bandit?”
“Have you not just rendered him a service that can never be forgotten?”
“What is that?”
“Have you not saved Peppino’s life?”
“Well, well,” said the count, “who told you that?”
“No matter; I know it.” The count knit his brows, and remained silent an instant.
“And if I went to seek Vampa, would you accompany me?”
“If my society would not be disagreeable.”
“Be it so. It is a lovely night, and a walk without Rome will do us both good.”
“Shall I take any arms?”
“For what purpose?”
“Any money?”
“It is useless. Where is the man who brought the letter?”
“In the street.”
“He awaits the answer?”
“Yes.”
“I must learn where we are going. I will summon him hither.”
“It is useless; he would not come up.”
“To your apartments, perhaps; but he will not make any difficulty at entering mine.”
The count went to the window of the apartment that looked on to the street, and whistled in a peculiar manner. The man in the mantle quitted the wall, and advanced into the middle of the street. “Salite!” said the count, in the same tone in which he would have given an order to his servant. The messenger obeyed without the least hesitation, but rather with alacrity, and, mounting the steps at a bound, entered the hotel; five seconds afterwards he was at the door of the room.
“Ah, it is you, Peppino,” said the count. But Peppino, instead of answering, threw himself on his knees, seized the count’s hand, and covered it with kisses. “Ah,” said the count, “you have, then, not forgotten that I saved your life; that is strange, for it is a week ago.”
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“No, excellency; and never shall I forget it,” returned Peppino, with an accent of profound gratitude.
“Never? That is a long time; but it is something that you believe so. Rise and answer.”
Peppino glanced anxiously at Franz.
“Oh, you may speak before his excellency,” said he; “he is one of my friends. You allow me to give you this title?” continued the count in French, “it is necessary to excite this man’s confidence.”
“You can speak before me,” said Franz; “I am a friend of the count’s.”
“Good!” returned Peppino. “I am ready to answer any questions your excellency may address to me.”
“How did the Viscount Albert fall into Luigi’s hands?”