CHAPTER CXVII
THE PARDON
HE next day Danglars was again hungry; certainly the air of that dungeon was very appetizing. The prisoner expected that he would be at no expense that day, for, like an economical man, he had concealed half of his fowl and a piece of the bread in the corner of his cell. But he had no sooner eaten than he felt thirsty; he had forgotten that. He struggled against his thirst till his tongue clave to the roof of his mouth; then, no longer able to resist, he called out. The sentinel opened the door; it was a new face. He thought it would be better to transact business with his old acquaintance, so he sent for Peppino.
"Here I am, your excellency," said Peppino, with an eagerness which Danglars thought favorable to him. "What do you want?"
"Something to drink."
"Your excellency knows that wine is beyond all price near Rome."
"Then give me water," cried Danglars, endeavoring to parry the blow.
"Oh, water is even more scarce than wine, your excellency, there has been such a drought."
"Come," thought Danglars, "we are going to repeat the old story." And, while he smiled as he attempted to regard the affair as a joke, he felt his temples moist with perspiration.
"Come, my friend," said Danglars, seeing he made no impression on Peppino, "you will not refuse me a glass of wine?"
"I have already told you that we do not sell retail."
"Well, then, let me have a bottle of the least expensive."
"They are all the same price."
"And what is that?"
"Twenty-five thousand francs per bottle."
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