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Albert was leaning with closed eyes against the post, when a well-known voice angrily cried: "Captain, let us think now of our rescue." It was Gratillet. "Let me die," murmured Albert, wearily. "I do not care to live any more." "You are talking nonsense. Die, forsooth! Shake off your torpor and be a man." "Through what miracle did you recover your life?" "None, I tell you.
But just then a wild tumult arose; the Arabs, yataghans in hand, rushed upon the three nearest prisoners, and literally chopped them in pieces. Having tasted blood, they butchered right and left. Only a few prisoners still remained, and among them was the reporter. Albert, in a daze, gazed at the massacre and the pools of blood which already threatened to reach his feet. Gratillet now fell.
Gratillet advanced and, bowing gracefully, said: "Count, excuse me, please, if my clothes are not exactly fashionable, but we have had no time to make our toilet." Albert and the journalist, instead of having fallen down a precipice, had fallen into a lake. When Monte-Cristo heard Gratillet's name, he uttered a cry of surprise. "Monsieur Gratillet," he said, "are you not a friend of Beauchamp?"
"What?" exclaimed Albert, surprised, "it was you who " "Yes, I, Gratillet, journalist, Beauchamp's friend and your friend," continued Gratillet. "Captain, we must escape out of this to-night; to-morrow it might be too late." Albert was encouraged by the journalist's words, and began to hope.
"Certainly; I never do things by halves. The prisoners were brought into the courtyard and placed in rows of two each, who were tied to each other by a chain six feet long." "Are you nearly finished with your story, Monsieur Gratillet?" said Beauchamp, thoughtfully. "Directly.
Can I count you, Monsieur Gratillet, from to-day on as one of my staff?" "I desire no greater honor," replied Gratillet, his face beaming with joy. The galley-slaves were shipped from Chalons to Lyons. No accident marred the trip, and all the prisoners were in good humor, with the exception of Benedetto. Anselmo tried his best to arouse his comrade, but his efforts were fruitless.
Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud looked knowingly at one another, while Gratillet continued: "The lady in question left the prison at ten o'clock and got into her carriage." "A carriage?" "No, a hackney coach she had hired." "And you followed her again?" "This time the matter was much easier; I got upon the box with the driver and arrived at her destination as soon as the occupant herself.
But something struck me just now: accident, which often plays wonderful tricks, might bring you in contact with one of our co-workers, who, Heaven knows, roves about perhaps in Timbuctoo or even Zanzibar; he sent me once a few good sketches about Abd-el-Kader, and then became an adventurer somewhere else." "And this gentleman's name?" "Gratillet."
"Then come into my office, Monsieur what is your name now?" "Gratillet, Monsieur Beauchamp," said the young man, following him into the office. After he had taken a chair proffered him he laughed to himself and in a tone of importance said: "If I am not mistaken, you interest yourself for Benedetto?" "A little, Monsieur Gratillet." "When you have heard my report, you will do so more.
Monte-Cristo wrote the name in his pocketbook and then said: "If I should happen to find Gratillet, I shall not forget your recommendation." "Thanks beforehand. Gratillet is a curious fellow, and I shall not feel surprised if you meet him in peaceful transactions with a panther. He is not afraid of any kind of devil." "Then he is the man for me."
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