The wondrous physician

A brisk walk of half an hour brought the Count and his companion to one of the two gates in the wall of the Ghetto or Jews’ quarter of Rome. Monte-Cristo knocked at a wicket and a policeman immediately appeared. He was a young man and wore a military dress. His coat was buttoned to the throat, a yellow cord and tassel gracefully looped over the breast. His hands were encased in white cotton gloves, a helmet adorned with brass was upon his head and at his side hung a sword, while on the collar of his coat the number of his regiment shone in gilt figures. The man’s bearing was soldierly and he had evidently seen service in the field. The Count addressed him in Italian, informing him that he and M. Morrel desired to visit the Ghetto, at the same time exhibiting their passports. After examining the papers and seeing that they were in proper form the policeman opened the gate and the visitors entered the crowded and filthy precincts of the Jews’ quarter.

“Mon Dieu! what vile odors!” exclaimed M. Morrel, placing his handkerchief saturated with cologne to his nose, as they hurried through the narrow, garbage-encumbered lanes.

“The atmosphere is not like that of a perfumer’s shop!” replied the Count, laughing. “But it seems to suit the children of Israel, for they thrive and multiply in it as the sparrows in the pure air and green fields of England!”

“I pity them!” said Maximilian.

“Tastes differ,” returned Monte-Cristo, philosophically. “I will wager that in this whole quarter we could not find a single Jew who would eat a partridge in that state of partial decay in which a Frenchman deems it most palatable!”

“What a strange, uncouth place this is,” said M. Morrel, after a brief silence. “It seems like some city of the far orient. No one, suddenly transported here, would ever imagine that he was in the heart of Rome.”

“It closely resembles the Judengasse at Frankfort-on-the-Main,” replied the Count, “and is quite as ancient though much larger. But the Germans are more progressive and liberal than the Romans, for the gates that closed the Judengasse were removed in 1806, while those of the Ghetto still remain and are, as you have seen, in charge of the police, who subject every person entering or quitting the place to the closest scrutiny. Even as far back as the 17th century the gates of the Judengasse were shut and locked only at nightfall, after which no Jew could venture into any other part of Frankfort without incurring a heavy penalty if caught, whereas here at the present time, in this age of enlightenment and religious toleration, the gates of the Ghetto are kept closed day and night, and the poor Israelites, victims of bigotry and unreasoning prejudice, are treated worse than the pariahs in Hindoostan! Rome is the Eternal City and verily its faults are as eternal as itself!”

Monte-Cristo had evidently visited the Ghetto before, as he seemed thoroughly familiar with its crooked lanes and obscure byways, pursuing his course without hesitation or pause for inquiry. It apparently contained no new sights or surprises for him. To M. Morrel, on the contrary, who now was within its walls for the first time, it presented an unending series of wonders. The buildings particularly impressed him. They looked as if erected away back in remote antiquity, and were curiously quaint combinations of wood and stone, exceedingly picturesque in appearance. Most of them were not more than eight or ten feet wide and towered to a height of four stories, resembling dwarfed steeples rather than houses. Not a new or modern edifice was to be seen in any direction. Many of the buildings were in a ruinous condition and some seemed actually about to crumble to pieces, while here and there great piles of shapeless rubbish marked the spots where others had fallen. As they were passing one of these piles, much larger than the rest, Maximilian called Monte-Cristo’s attention to it. The Count glanced at it and said:

“That was once the dwelling of old Isaac Nabal, known to his people as Isaac the Moneylender, but styled by the Romans Isaac the Usurer. He was enormously rich and loaned his gold at exorbitant rates to the extravagant and impecunious Roman nobles. Isaac was wifeless and childless, but so eager for gain was he that he kept his house constantly filled with lodgers. The house was perhaps the oldest in all the Ghetto. Strange noises were heard in it every night occasioned by the falling of plaster or partition walls. It was no uncommon thing for a lodger to be suddenly roused from his sleep by a crash and find himself bruised and bleeding. Still old Isaac sturdily refused to make repairs. He asserted that the rickety edifice would last as long as he did, and he was not wrong, for one night it came down bodily about his ears and he perished amid the ruins together with thirty others, all who were in the aged rookery at the time. This catastrophe happened twenty years ago.”

“Do the houses often fall here?” asked M. Morrel, glancing uneasily around him at the dilapidated buildings.

“Very often,” answered the Count. “Age and decay will bring them all down sooner or later.”

“Then for Heaven’s sake let us hasten lest we be crushed beneath some sudden wreck!” said Maximilian. “The houses project over the street at the upper stories until they almost join each other in mid air. If one should fall there would be no escape!”

“Have no fear, Maximilian!” replied Monte-Cristo, smiling. “A famous astrologer once assured me that I bore a charmed life, and if I escape you will also!”

The ground floors of the houses were for the most part occupied as shops of various kinds and the upper portions used as dwellings. Jewish merchants stood at the doors of the shops and Jewish women, some of them very beautiful, were occasionally seen at the upper windows. The streets were thronged with pedestrians of both sexes and here and there groups of chubby, black-haired children were at play.

Maximilian was amazed to notice that most of the men they met took off their hats to Monte-Cristo and that some of them saluted him by name.

“You appear to be pretty well known to the Israelites,” said he, at length.

“Yes,” answered the Count, “many of them know me. I have had frequent occasion to consult with them on matters of importance. They are a shrewd and trusty people.”

By this time Monte-Cristo and M. Morrel had reached a lane narrower and darker than any they had yet traversed. Into this the Count turned and after he had taken his companion a short distance stopped in front of a dingy but well-preserved building. It differed from its neighbors in having no shop on the ground floor and in being tightly closed from bottom to top. It looked as if it were uninhabited.

“We have reached our destination,” said Monte-Cristo. “This is the residence of Dr. Absalom.”

Maximilian stared at him in astonishment.

“The house is deserted,” said he. “Are you not mistaken?”

“No. This is the place.”

“I fear then that the physician has left it and perhaps also the Ghetto.”

Monte-Cristo smiled.

“You do not know him,” he said. “His habits and manner of living are very peculiar. Prepare to be greatly surprised!”

Thus speaking he went to the door of the tightly-closed dwelling and struck five loud raps upon it, three very quickly and two very slowly delivered. The sounds seemed to reverberate through the house as if it were not only uninhabited but also unfurnished. Several minutes elapsed but no response was heard to Monte-Cristo’s signal, no one came in obedience to his summons. The Count held his watch in his hand and his eyes were riveted upon the dial.

M. Morrel grew slightly impatient; he said to his companion, triumphantly:

“I told you that the house was deserted and I was right!”

The Count smiled again, but made no reply, still keeping his eyes fixed on the dial of his watch.

“Ten minutes!” said he, and he repeated his signal, but this time struck only three rapid blows. As before no answer was returned.

Maximilian was much interested and not a little amused, the Count’s proceedings were so singular.

“Fifteen minutes!” said Monte-Cristo at length, putting up his watch and giving one long, resounding rap upon the door.

The effect was instantaneous. The portal swung open through some unseen influence, as if by magic, disclosing a long, bare, gloomy corridor, but not a sign of human life was visible.

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 Dantes, 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.

“One of my dearest friends, M. Maximilian Morrel, Captain in the Army of France,” said Monte-Cristo, in answer to this look. “You can have as full confidence in him as in me.”

Dr. Absalom bowed profoundly to M. Morrel, and without another word led the way to an inner apartment. It was a vast chamber, closed like the front of the house, brilliantly illuminated by a huge chandelier suspended from the ceiling in which burned twenty wax candles of various hues. The room was provided with all the apparatus and paraphernalia of a chemist’s laboratory of modern days, also containing many strange instruments and machines such as aided the researches and labors of the old-time disciples of alchemy.

In the centre of the apartment stood a vast table covered with gigantic parchment-bound tomes and rolls of yellow manuscript. Behind this table was a huge, high-backed chair of elaborate antique workmanship resembling the throne of some Asiatic sovereign of the remote past. In this chair the physician seated himself after having installed his visitors each upon a commodious and comfortable Turkish divan.

Maximilian noticed that the floor of the room was covered with soft and elegant Persian rugs and that the walls were hung with exquisitely beautiful tapestry. Monte-Cristo had warned him to prepare to be greatly surprised, but Dr. Absalom’s lavish display of wealth, luxury and taste in the midst of the filthy, dilapidated Ghetto, nevertheless, absolutely stunned him. The Count had also cautioned him not to speak without his permission a useless injunction, for the young Frenchman was too much amazed to utter a syllable.

After seating himself the Hebrew sage, who seemed to be a man of business as well as of science, requested the Count to state in what he could serve him. Thereupon Monte-Cristo succinctly related the history of the Viscount Massetti, told of his mental malady, his confinement in the insane asylum and ended by asking the physician if he could and would cure him.

“I have already heard somewhat of this unfortunate young man,” replied Dr. Absalom, “and the fact of his insanity was also imparted to me, but before expressing an opinion as to what my science can do in his case, I must have the particulars.”

The Count motioned to M. Morrel, who, having by this time partially recovered from his bewilderment, at once proceeded to give the aged Hebrew the information he required. When he had concluded Dr. Absalom said, in a quiet, confident tone:

“Count of Monte-Cristo, the case is plain. I can and will cure this stricken young Italian!”

“I was sure of it!” cried the Count, joyously and triumphantly. M. Morrel was not less delighted, but, at the same time, he could not feel as confident as his friend of the Jew’s ability to perform his promise.

The physician spoke a few words in Hebrew to Monte-Cristo. The reply of the latter seemed to give him entire satisfaction, for he said in Italian:

“In that event there will be no opposition from either the authorities of Rome or those of the insane asylum. I will be at the asylum at noon to-morrow, fully prepared to restore Massetti to health and reason!”

The Count and Maximilian arose and bidding the sage adieu were conducted by him to the corridor. They were soon in the street and made their way out of the Ghetto as speedily as possible.