M. Morrel's interest and amusement changed to wonder and amazement; he was thoroughly mystified and bewildered.
"The common people of Rome are not very far astray in their estimate of this Dr. Absalom!" he muttered. "This certainly looks as if the man were a magician!"
"Pshaw!" returned Monte-Cristo, with a display of impatience he rarely exhibited. "The learned Hebrew is compelled to take his precautions; that is all. Follow me, and no matter what you may see or hear, if you wish our enterprise to be crowned with success utter not a word, not a sound, until I give you permission!"
The Count entered the corridor, followed by his perplexed and astounded friend. Immediately the door closed noiselessly behind them and they found themselves amid thick darkness. Monte-Cristo took M. Morrel by the hand, leading him forward until their progress was completely barred by what appeared to be the end of the corridor. Here the Count paused and said some words in Hebrew. A faint response came promptly from beyond the corridor in the same language, and immediately the light of a lamp flashed upon the visitors. A door had opened and on the threshold stood the strangest looking specimen of humanity Maximilian had ever beheld. The new comer was a very aged man, with stooped shoulders, a long white beard that reached to his waist and a profusion of snowy hair that escaped from beneath a cap of purple velvet at the side of which hung a bright crimson tassel. He wore a long Persian caftan of pink satin, profusely and beautifully embroidered with gold, full oriental trousers of red velvet and elaborately adorned slippers of tiger skin. On his long, bony fingers sparkled several diamond rings undoubtedly of immense value and a cluster of brilliant emeralds magnificently set in gold adorned his breast. This singular vision of eastern luxury, wealth and sumptuousness held the lamp, which was of wrought bronze and resembled those found among the ruins of ancient Pompeii, above his head and by its light Maximilian could see that his eyes were keen and piercing and that his countenance betokened the highest intellectuality.
"Who is it that thus summons the sage from his meditations?" asked the old man, in a remarkably youthful voice. This time he spoke in Italian.
"One who served you in the past, oh! Dr. Absalom," replied Monte-Cristo, also using the language of Italy, "and who now solicits a service of you in return. Remember the mob of Athens and the Frank who interposed to save you from destruction!"
The old man lowered his lamp and held it close to his famous visitor's face; then he joyfully exclaimed:
"Welcome, Edmond Dantès, Count of Monte-Cristo! Welcome to the abode of your devoted servant Israel Absalom! Whatever he can do to serve you shall be done, no matter at what cost!"
Then, for the first time, he observed that the Count was not alone and fixed his keen eyes on M. Morrel with a look of suspicion and inquiry.