Those who had been near enough to the Count's barouche to witness this extraordinary scene were greatly astonished that such a famous character as the eloquent Deputy from Marseilles should stoop to converse with a malefactor in the public street, but their astonishment was immeasurably augmented when they saw the influence the celebrated orator exercised over the depraved Italian. They had not been able to understand the conversation, but the effect of Monte-Cristo's last words seemed little less than miraculous to them and they rent the air with loud and enthusiastic cheers.
"Long live the noble Count of Monte-Cristo! Long live the Deputy from Marseilles, the people's friend!" was shouted on every side.
Further on the cry was taken up and repeated, ringing forth far along the broad and beautiful Champs-Elysées!
Monte-Cristo arose in his barouche and, removing his hat, stood bareheaded, bowing to the excited populace.
This was the signal for new and heartier cheers. But the criminals having been removed, the crowd soon began to disperse. At length the thoroughfare was cleared and the Count's vehicle could proceed. Ali had impassibly resumed the driver's seat and, at a nod from his adored master, started the spirited horses down the immense avenue. As the blooded bays went prancing along with proudly arched necks, the Count bent over and said to Ali: "Drive at once to the poste of the quarter."
The Nubian skilfully wheeled the animals about and in a few minutes Monte-Cristo had reached his destination.
At the door of the poste a gardien received him and, at the mention of his name, obsequiously conducted him to the officer in charge. The latter, a short, determined-looking man with a bristling gray moustache and gray hair that stood almost on end upon his little round head, recognized his illustrious visitor at a glance. He hastily arose from the desk at which he was seated, engaged in examining the reports of his subordinates, and politely offered him a chair. Then he asked, deferentially: "To what am I indebted for so distinguished an honor as a call from the Count of Monte-Cristo?"
"Monsieur," replied the Count, taking the proffered seat, "two Italians were arrested a short time ago on the Champs-Elysées and brought hither."
"Yes," said the chief of the poste, "and great scoundrels they are, too! We have been shadowing them for some time, but could never detect them in any overt act until to-day. They belong to a very dangerous gang of prowlers, led by a shrewd German named Waldmann, whose headquarters are in a wretched caboulot of the Cité d' Antin."
"Of what are these Italians accused, that is what is the present specific charge against them?"