and saves the life, or at least the liberty, of a fellow-creature, who on the first occasion returns the service by pointing out some safe spot where we can land our goods without interruption.”
“Ah!” said Franz, “then you are a smuggler occasionally, Gaetano?”
“Your excellency, we must live somehow,” returned the other, smiling impenetrably.
“Then you know the men who are now on Monte Cristo?”
“Oh, yes, we sailors are like freemasons, and recognize each other by signs.”
“And do you think we have nothing to fear if we land?”
“Nothing at all; smugglers are not thieves.”
“But these two Corsican bandits?” said Franz, calculating the chances of peril.
“It is not their fault that they are bandits, but that of the authorities.”
“How so?”
“Because they are pursued for having made a stiff, as if it