“Listen,” said Gaetano, lowering his voice, “I do not know if what they say is true”—he stopped to see if anyone was near.
“What do they say?”
“That this chief inhabits a cavern to which the Pitti Palace is nothing.”
“What nonsense!” said Franz, reseating himself.
“It is no nonsense; it is quite true. Cama, the pilot of the Saint Ferdinand, went in once, and he came back amazed, vowing that such treasures were only to be heard of in fairy tales.”
“Do you know,” observed Franz, “that with such stories you make me think of Ali Baba’s enchanted cavern?”
“I tell you what I have been told.”
“Then you advise me to accept?”
“Oh, I don’t say that; your excellency will do as you please; I should be sorry to advise you in the matter.”
Franz pondered the matter for a few moments, concluded that a man so rich could not have any intention of plundering him of what little he had, and seeing only the prospect of a good supper, accepted. Gaetano departed with the reply. Franz was prudent, and wished to learn all he possibly could concerning his host. He turned towards the sailor, who, during this dialogue, had sat gravely plucking the partridges with the air of a man proud of his office, and asked him how these men had landed, as no vessel of any kind was visible.