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Come, dear ones, said Morrel, rising from his seat, let
us go and see, and heaven have pity upon us if it be false
intelligence! They all went out, and on the stairs met
Madame Morrel, who had been afraid to go up into the study.
In a moment they were at the Cannebiere. There was a crowd
on the pier. All the crowd gave way before Morrel. The
Pharaon, the Pharaon! said every voice.
And, wonderful to see, in front of the tower of Saint-Jean,
was a ship bearing on her stern these words, printed in
white letters, The Pharaon, Morrel & Son, of Marseilles.
She was the exact duplicate of the other Pharaon, and
loaded, as that had been, with cochineal and indigo. She
cast anchor, clued up sails, and on the deck was Captain
Gaumard giving orders, and good old Penelon making signals
to M. Morrel. To doubt any longer was impossible; there was
the evidence of the senses, and ten thousand persons who
came to corroborate the testimony. As Morrel and his son
embraced on the pier-head, in the presence and amid the
applause of the whole city witnessing this event, a man,
with his face half-covered by a black beard, and who,
concealed behind the sentry-box, watched the scene with
delight, uttered these words in a low tone: Be happy, noble
heart, be blessed for all the good thou hast done and wilt
do hereafter, and let my gratitude remain in obscurity like
your good deeds.
And with a smile expressive of supreme content, he left his
hiding-place, and without being observed, descended one of
the flights of steps provided for debarkation, and hailing
three times, shouted Jacopo, Jacopo, Jacopo! Then a launch
came to shore, took him on board, and conveyed him to a
yacht splendidly fitted up, on whose deck he sprung with the
activity of a sailor; thence he once again looked towards
Morrel, who, weeping with joy, was shaking hands most
cordially with all the crowd around him, and thanking with a
look the unknown benefactor whom he seemed to be seeking in
the skies. And now, said the unknown, farewell kindness,
humanity, and gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings that
expand the heart! I have been heaven's substitute to
recompense the good -- now the god of vengeance yields to me
his power to punish the wicked! At these words he gave a
signal, and, as if only awaiting this signal, the yacht
instantly put out to sea.
31
Italy: Sinbad the Sailor.
Towards the beginning of the year 1838, two young men
belonging to the first society of Paris, the Vicomte Albert
de Morcerf and the Baron Franz d'Epinay, were at Florence.
They had agreed to see the Carnival at Rome that year, and
that Franz, who for the last three or four years had
inhabited Italy, should act as cicerone to Albert. As it is
no inconsiderable affair to spend the Carnival at Rome,
especially when you have no great desire to sleep on the
Piazza del Popolo, or the Campo Vaccino, they wrote to
Signor Pastrini, the proprietor of the Hotel de Londres,
Piazza di Spagna, to reserve comfortable apartments for
them. Signor Pastrini replied that he had only two rooms and
a parlor on the third floor, which he offered at the low
charge of a louis per diem. They accepted his offer; but
wishing to make the best use of the time that was left,
Albert started for Naples. As for Franz, he remained at
Florence, and after having passed a few days in exploring
the paradise of the Cascine, and spending two or three
evenings at the houses of the Florentine nobility, he took a
fancy into his head (having already visited Corsica, the
cradle of Bonaparte) to visit Elba, the waiting-place of
Napoleon.
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