Chapter 90: The Bandit: VI
She returned to her room, calling for help as loudly as she could, when suddenly her window, which was twenty feet from the ground, was opened. A young peasant jumped into the chamber, seized her in his arms, and with superhuman skill and strength carried her to the grass outside, where she fainted.
When she recovered, her father was by her side. All the servants surrounded her, offering assistance. An entire wing of the villa had burned down, but what did that matter, as long as Carmela was safe and uninjured?
Her rescuer was sought everywhere, but he didn’t appear. People asked about him, but no one had seen him. Carmela was greatly troubled that she hadn’t recognized him. Since the count was immensely wealthy, and aside from the danger Carmela had run, and the marvelous manner in which she’d escaped made that seem more like a blessing than a real misfortune, the loss from the fire was trivial to him.
The next day, at the usual hour, the two young peasants were at the forest’s edge. Luigi arrived first. He came toward Teresa in high spirits and seemed to have completely forgotten the previous evening’s events. The young woman was very pensive, but seeing Luigi so cheerful, she in turn assumed a smiling air, which was natural to her when she wasn’t excited or upset.
Luigi took her arm and led her to the cave’s entrance. Then he paused. The young woman, perceiving that something extraordinary was happening, looked at him intently.
"Teresa," Luigi said, "yesterday evening you told me you would give anything to have a costume like the count’s daughter’s."
"Yes," Teresa replied in astonishment, "but I was crazy to express such a wish."
"And I replied, ’Very well, you shall have it.’"
"Yes," the young woman said, her astonishment increasing with every word Luigi spoke, "but of course your reply was only to please me."
"I’ve promised no more than I’ve given you, Teresa," Luigi said proudly. "Go into the cave and dress yourself."
At these words he drew away the stone and showed Teresa the cave, lit by two wax candles burning on each side of a splendid mirror. On a rustic table Luigi had made lay the pearl necklace and diamond pins, and on a chair beside it was the rest of the costume.
Teresa cried out with joy, and without asking where this outfit came from or even thanking Luigi, she darted into the cave, transformed into a dressing room. Luigi pushed the stone behind her, because on the crest of a small nearby hill that blocked the view toward town, he saw a traveler on horseback stopping for a moment, as if uncertain of his route, presenting against the blue sky that perfect outline characteristic of distant objects in southern climates.
When the rider saw Luigi, he put his horse into a gallop and rode toward him. Luigi wasn’t mistaken. The traveler, who was going from one town to another, had lost his way. The young man gave him directions, but since at about a quarter mile the road divided into three ways, and the traveler might again lose his route, he asked Luigi to be his guide.
Luigi threw his cloak on the ground, placed his rifle on his shoulder, and freed from his heavy covering, walked ahead of the traveler with the rapid step of a mountain dweller, which a horse can barely keep pace with. In ten minutes Luigi and the traveler reached the crossroads. Arriving there, with an air as majestic as that of an emperor, he extended his hand toward the road the traveler should follow.
"That’s your route, sir, and now you cannot mistake it again."
"And here is your reward," the traveler said, offering the young shepherd some small coins.
"Thank you," Luigi said, pulling back his hand, "I render a service, I don’t sell it."
"Well," the traveler replied, who seemed accustomed to this difference between the servility of city dwellers and the pride of mountain people, "if you refuse payment, perhaps you’ll accept a gift."
"Ah yes, that’s another matter."
"Then," the traveler said, "take these two Venetian gold coins and give them to your bride to make herself earrings."
"And you take this dagger," the young shepherd said. "You won’t find one better carved between here and the next region."
"I accept it," the traveler answered, "but then the obligation will be on my side, for this dagger is worth more than two gold coins."
"For a dealer perhaps, but for me, who carved it myself, it’s barely worth one coin."
"What’s your name?" the traveler asked.
"Luigi Vampa," the shepherd replied with the same air as he would have said Alexander, King of Macedonia. "And yours?"
"I," the traveler said, "am called Sinbad the Sailor."
Franz d’Epinay started with surprise.
"Sinbad the Sailor?" he said.
"Yes," the narrator replied. "That was the name the traveler gave to Vampa as his own."
"Well, and what’s wrong with this name?" Albert asked. "It’s a very nice name, and the adventures of the gentleman by that name entertained me very much in my youth, I must confess."
Franz said no more. The name of Sinbad the Sailor, as may well be supposed, awakened in him a world of memories, as had the name of the Count of Monte Cristo the previous evening.
"Continue!" he said to the host.
Luigi put the two gold coins proudly into his pocket and slowly returned the way he’d come. As he got within two or three hundred paces of the cave, he thought he heard a cry. He listened to determine where this sound came from. A moment later he thought he heard his own name called distinctly. The cry came from the cave. He bounded forward like a mountain goat, cocking his rifle as he went, and in a moment reached the summit of a hill opposite the one where he’d seen the traveler.
Three cries for help reached his ears more distinctly. He cast his eyes around and saw a man carrying off Teresa, like the centaur from ancient myth carrying off his victim.
This man, who was hurrying toward the woods, was already three-quarters of the way from the cave to the forest. Luigi measured the distance. The man was at least two hundred paces ahead of him, and there was no chance of overtaking him. The young shepherd stopped as if his feet had been rooted to the ground. Then he put the rifle’s butt to his shoulder, took aim at the abductor, followed him for a second in his path, and then fired.
The abductor stopped suddenly, his knees bent under him, and he fell with Teresa in his arms. The young woman rose instantly, but the man lay on the earth struggling in death’s agony. Luigi then rushed toward Teresa, for ten paces from the dying man her legs had failed her and she’d dropped to her knees, so the young man feared that the bullet that had brought down his enemy had also wounded his betrothed.
Fortunately, she was unharmed, and it was fright alone that had overcome Teresa. When Luigi had assured himself that she was safe, he turned toward the wounded man. He’d just expired, with clenched fists, his mouth in a spasm of agony, and his hair standing on end in death’s sweat. His eyes remained open and menacing. Luigi approached the corpse and recognized Cucumetto.
From the day the bandit had been saved by the two young peasants, he’d been infatuated with Teresa and had sworn she would be his. From that time he’d watched them, and profiting from the moment when her lover had left her alone, he’d carried her off, believing he finally had her in his power, when the bullet, directed by the unerring skill of the young shepherd, had pierced his heart.