Summary 53

CHAPTER 1 SUMMARY
Physical quantities and units: Three fundamental physical quantities are mass, length, and time. The
corresponding fundamental SI units are the kilogram, the meter, and the second. Derived units for other
physical quantities are products or quotients of the basic units. Equations must be dimensionally consistent;
two terms can be added only when they have the same units. (See Examples 1.1 and 1.2.)

Significant figures: The accuracy of a measurement can Significant figures in magenta

be indicated by the number of significant figures or by
a stated uncertainty. The significant figures in the result C 0.424 m
p = = = 3.14
of a calculation are determined by the rules summarized 2r 210.06750 m2
in Table 1.2. When only crude estimates are available for
123.62 + 8.9 = 132.5
input data, we can often make useful order-of-magnitude
estimates. (See Examples 1.3 and 1.4.)

Scalars, vectors, and vector addition: Scalar quantities S

A+ B
S
S
are numbers and combine according to the usual rules A
+
S S

of arithmetic. Vector quantities have direction as well as

B = S
A
B
magnitude and combine according to the rules of vector
addition. The negative of a vector has the same magnitude
but points in the opposite direction. (See Example 1.5.)

Vector components and vector addition: Vectors can be Rx = Ax + Bx y

added
S
byS using
S
components of vectors. The x-component
S S
Ry = Ay + By (1.9) S
R
of R ∙ A ∙ B is the sum of the x-components of A and B, Rz = Az + Bz By S

and likewise for the y- and z-components. (See Examples 1.6 Ry B

and 1.7.) Ay S
A
x
O Ax Bx
Rx

Unit vectors: Unit vectors describe directions in space. A S

A ∙ Ax nd ∙ Ay ne ∙ Az kn (1.14) y
unit vector has a magnitude of 1, with no units. The unit Ay en
vectors nd , ne , and kn , aligned with the x-, y-, and z-axes of a
S
A = Axnd + Ay en
en
rectangular coordinate system, are especially useful. (See x
O
Example 1.8.) nd Axnd

The scalar product C = A # B of two A # B = AB cos f = 0 A 0 0 B 0 cos f Scalar product A # B = AB cosf

S S S S S S S S
Scalar product:
S S
(1.16)
vectors A and B is a scalar quantity. ItS can be expressed A # B = Ax Bx + Ay By + Az Bz
S S
S (1.19) S
in terms of the magnitudes of A and B and the angle f B
between the two vectors, or in terms of the components ofS
A and B. The scalar product is commutative; A # B = B # A.
S S S S S f
S

The scalar product of two perpendicular vectors is zero. A

(See Examples 1.9 and 1.10.)

S S S
Vector product: The vector product C ∙ A : B of two C = AB sin f (1.20) S S

S S S
A : B is perpendicular
S S
vectors
S S
A and B is a third vector C . The
S
magnitude
S
of Cx = Ay Bz - Az By S
A:B
S
to the plane of A and B.
A : B depends on the magnitudes of A and B and Sthe S Cy = Az Bx - Ax Bz (1.25)
angle f between the two vectors. The direction of A : B Cz = Ax By - Ay Bx
S
A
is perpendicular to the plane of the two vectors being f
multiplied,
S S
asSgiven by the right-hand rule. The components B
S

of CS ∙ AS: B can be expressed in terms of the components

S S
(Magnitude of A : B) = AB sinf
of
S
A and
S
B. The
S
vector
S
product is not commutative;
A : B ∙ ∙B : A. The vector product of two parallel or
antiparallel vectors is zero. (See Example 1.11.)
84 CHAPTER 2 Motion Along a Straight Line

CHAPTER 2 SUMMARY
Straight-line motion, average and instantaneous x-velocity: When ∆x x2 - x1 x
vav@x = = (2.2) p2
a particle moves along a straight line, we describe its position with ∆t t2 - t1 x2
respect to an origin O by means of a coordinate such as x. The

∆x = x2 - x1
∆x dx

-x
particle’s average x-velocity vav@x during a time interval ∆t = t2 - t1 vx = lim = (2.3)

av
v
∆t S 0 ∆t dt

=
is equal to its displacement ∆x = x2 - x1 divided by ∆t. The

pe
o
= vx

Sl
instantaneous x-velocity vx at any time t is equal to the average p1 pe
x1 Slo
x-velocity over the time interval from t to t + ∆t in the limit that t
∆t goes to zero. Equivalently, vx is the derivative of the position O t1 t2
∆t = t2 - t1
function with respect to time. (See Example 2.1.)

Average and instantaneous x-acceleration: The average x- ∆vx v2x - v1x vx

aav@x = = (2.4)
acceleration aav@x during a time interval ∆t is equal to the change ∆t t2 - t1
p2
in velocity ∆vx = v2x - v1x during that time interval divided ∆vx dvx
v2x

∆vx = v2x - v1x

by ∆t. The instantaneous x-acceleration ax is the limit of aav@x ax = lim = (2.5) -x
∆t S 0 ∆t dt a av
as ∆t goes to zero, or the derivative of vx with respect to t. (See pe
=
o
Examples 2.2 and 2.3.) Sl
a
p1 e = x
v1x Slop
t
O t1 t2
∆t = t2 - t1

Straight-line motion with constant acceleration: When the x- Constant x-acceleration only: a
acceleration is constant, four equations relate the position x and v
vx = v0x + ax t (2.8) t = 0 x
the x-velocity vx at any time t to the initial position x0 , the initial x- 0
1 2 a
velocity v0x (both measured at time t = 0), and the x-acceleration x = x0 + v0x t + 2 ax t (2.12) v
t = ∆t x
ax . (See Examples 2.4 and 2.5.) 0
vx2 = v0x2 + 2ax 1x - x02 (2.13) a
v
t = 2∆t x
x - x0 = 12 1v0x + vx2t (2.14) 0
a
v x
t = 3∆t
0
a
v
t = 4∆t x
0

Freely falling objects: Free fall (vertical motion without air

resistance, so only gravity affects the motion) is a case of motion
with constant acceleration. The magnitude of the acceleration due ay = -g
to gravity is a positive quantity, g. The acceleration of an object in = -9.80 m>s2
free fall is always downward. (See Examples 2.6–2.8.)

Straight-line motion with varying acceleration: When the t

L0
ax
vx = v0x + ax dt (2.17)
acceleration is not constant but is a known function of time,
we can find the velocity and position as functions of time by t

L0
integrating the acceleration function. (See Example 2.9.) x = x0 + vx dt (2.18)
aav-x

t
O t1 t2
∆t
118 CHAPTER 3 Motion in Two or Three Dimensions

CHAPTER 3 SUMMARY
Position, velocity, and acceleration vectors: The position vec- r ∙ xnd ∙ y ne ∙ z kn
S
(3.1) y
S
tor r of a point P in space is the vector from the origin to P. Its S S
r2 ∙ r1 ∆r
S
∆r
S
components are the coordinates x, y, and z. S
vav ∙ ∙ (3.2) S
vav =
S t2 - t1 ∆t ∆t
The average velocity vector vav during the time interval ∆t is y1
S S
the displacement ∆r (the change in position vector r ) divided by ∆r dr
S S
S
S
∆r
S
S
v ∙ lim ∙ (3.3) ∆y r1
∆t. The instantaneous velocity vector v is the time derivative of ∆t S 0 ∆t dt
S
r , and its components are the time derivatives of x, y, and z. The y2
S S dx dy dz
instantaneous speed is the magnitude of v. The velocity v of a
S
vx = vy = vz = (3.4) r2
dt dt dt x
particle is always tangent to the particle’s path. (See Example O x1 x2
3.1.) S
S
v2 ∙ v1 S
∆v
S
∆x
S
The average acceleration vector aav during the time interval aav ∙ ∙ (3.8)
t2 - t1 ∆t
S S
∆t equals ∆v (the change in velocity vector v) divided by ∆t. S
S ∆v
S
dv
S
v2
The instantaneous acceleration vector a is the time derivative of S
a ∙ lim ∙ (3.9)
S
v, and its components are the time derivatives of vx, vy, and vz . ∆t S 0 ∆t dt y
(See Example 3.2.) dvx
S
v1 S ∆v
S

∆v
S
ax = aav =
The component of acceleration parallel to the direction of the dt ∆t
S
instantaneous velocity affects the speed, while the component of a
S dvy
perpendicular to v affects the direction of motion. (See Examples ay = (3.10)
3.3 and 3.4.) dt S
v1
dvz S
v2
az = x
dt O

Projectile motion: In projectile motion with no air resistance, x = 1v0 cos a02t (3.19) y
S
v S
v
vy
ax = 0 and ay = - g. The coordinates and velocity components y = 1v0 sin a02t - 1 2
(3.20) vx
2 gt vy
are simple functions of time, and the shape of the path is always vx S
vx = v0 cos a0 (3.21) S
v vy v
a parabola. We usually choose the origin to be at the initial posi- vx ay = -g
tion of the projectile. (See Examples 3.5 –3.10.) vy = v0 sin a0 - gt (3.22) O
x

Uniform and nonuniform circular motion: When a particle moves v2 S

v
arad = (3.27)
in a circular path of radius R with constant speed v (uniform R S
S
v
S arad S
circular motion), its acceleration a is directed toward the center arad
S 4p2R
of the circle and perpendicular to v. The magnitude arad of this arad = (3.29) S S
arad
T 2 v
radial acceleration can be expressed in terms of v and R or in S
S
v
arad
terms of R and the period T (the time for one revolution), where
S
v = 2pR>T. (See Examples 3.11 and 3.12.) arad S
arad
If the speed is not constant in circular motion (nonuniform S
v
S S
circular motion), there is still a radial component of a given by v
S
Eq. (3.27) or (3.29), but there is also a component of a parallel
(tangential) to the path. This tangential component is equal to
the rate of change of speed, dv>dt.

Relative velocity: When an object P moves relative to an object vP>A@x = vP>B@x + vB>A@x
(3.32)
S
vB>A
(or reference frame) B, and B moves relative to an object (or refer- (relative velocity along a line) S S
vP>A = vP>B + vB>A
S

S
ence frame) A, we denote the velocity of P relative to B by vP>B, S
S S S
vP>A ∙ vP>B ∙ vB>A
S S
vP>A vP>B
the velocity of P relative to A by vP>A, and the velocity of B rela- (3.35)
S
tive to A by vB>A . If these velocities are all along the same line, (relative velocity in space)
P (plane)
their components along that line are related by Eq. (3.32). More
generally, these velocities are related by Eq. (3.35). (See Examples
3.13 –3.15.) B (moving air)

A (ground
observer)
148 CHAPTER 4 Newton’s Laws of Motion

Figure 4.28 Examples of free-body diagrams. Each free-body diagram shows all of the external forces that act
on the object in question.
(a) (b)

S
n

To jump up, this

player is pushing
S S down against the
Fy Fblock on runner floor, increasing
the upward reaction
S
S
Fx force n of the floor
S
w S
w on him.
The force of the starting block
on the runner has a vertical
S
component that counteracts her w
This player is a
weight and a large horizontal
freely falling object.
component that accelerates her.

(c)
The water exerts a buoyancy force that
S
counters the swimmer’s weight.
Fbuoyancy

S S
Fthrust Fdrag
Kicking causes the water to Thrust is countered by drag
exert a forward reaction force, S forces exerted by the water
or thrust, on the swimmer. w
on the moving swimmer.

CHAPTER 4 SUMMARY
Force as a vector: Force is a quantitative measure of the R = g F = F1 + F2 + F3 + P
S S S S S
(4.1) S S S S
interaction between two objects. It is a vector quantity. S R = ΣF = F1 + F2
F1
When several external forces act on an object, the effect
on its motion is the same as if a single force, equal to the
vector sum (resultant) of the forces, acts on the object. S
F2
(See Example 4.1.)

The net external force on an object and Newton’s first law: gF = 0

S
(4.3) S
v = constant
Newton’s first law states that when the vector sum of all
S S S
external forces acting on a object (the net external force) is F1 F2 = −F1
zero, the object is in equilibrium and has zero acceleration. S

If the object is initially at rest, it remains at rest; if it is ini- ΣF = 0

tially in motion, it continues to move with constant velocity.
This law is valid in inertial frames of reference only. (See
Examples 4.2 and 4.3.)
 Guided Practice 149

Mass, acceleration, and Newton’s second law: The inertial g F = ma

S S
(4.6)

g Fx = max
properties of an object are characterized by its mass. Newton’s S

g Fy = may
second law states that the acceleration of an object under the
S
F2 ΣF S S
a = ΣF>m

g Fz = maz
action of a given set of external forces is directly proportional (4.7)
to the vector sum of the forces (the net force) and inversely S

proportional to the mass of the object. Like Newton’s first F1

Mass m
law, this law is valid in inertial frames of reference only. In SI
units, the unit of force is the newton (N), equal to 1 kg # m>s2.
(See Examples 4.4 and 4.5.)

S
Weight: The weight w of an object is the gravitational force w = mg (4.8)
Mass m
exerted on it by the earth. Weight is a vector quantity. The
magnitude of the weight of an object at any specific location S
w = mg
S S
g
is equal to the product of its mass m and the magnitude of
the acceleration due to gravity g at that location. The weight
of an object depends on its location; its mass does not. (See
Examples 4.6 and 4.7.)

Newton’s third law and action–reaction pairs: Newton’s S S

FA on B = −FB on A (4.10) B
third law states that when two objects interact, they exert S
forces on each other that are equal in magnitude and FA on B
opposite in direction. These forces are called action and A
reaction forces. Each of these two forces acts on only
one of the two objects; they never act on the same object. S
FB on A
(See Examples 4.8–4.11.)

Chapter 4 Media Assets

GUIDED PRACTICE For assigned homework and other learning materials, go to Mastering Physics.

the vertical (the +y-direction) and 70.0° from the + x-direction. The
KEY EXAMPLE ARIATION PROBLEMS
drag force (air resistance) exerted on the eagle by the air has mag-
Be sure to review EXAMPLE 4.1 (Section 4.1) before attempting these nitude 15.0 N and is at an angle of 20.0° from the - x-direction and
problems. 70.0° from the +y-direction. Find the x- and y-components of the
VP4.1.1 Three professional wrestlers are fighting over a champion’s net external force on the eagle, and find the force’s magnitude and
belt, and each exerts a force on the belt. Wrestler 1 exerts a force direction.
F1 = 40.0 N in the + x-direction, wrestler 2 exerts a force F2 = 80.0 N VP4.1.4 A box containing pizza sits on a table. Ernesto, who sits
in the - y-direction, and wrestler 3 exerts a force F3 = 60.0 N at an due east of the pizza box, pulls the box toward him with a force of
angle of 36.9° counterclockwise from the +x-direction. Find the x- 35.0 N. Kamala, who sits due north of the pizza box, pulls the box
and y-components of the net external force on the belt, and find the toward her with a 50.0 N force. Tsuroku also sits at the table and
force’s magnitude and direction. u pulls the box toward her so that the net external force on the box
VP4.1.2 Three forces act on a statue. Force F1 (magnitude 45.0 N) points
u
is 24.0 N in a direction 30.0° south of west. Take the + x-direction
in the + x-direction, force F2 (magnitude 105 N) points in the +y-direction,
u to be due east and the +y-direction to be due north. Find the x- and
and force F3 (magnitude 235 N) is at an angle of 36.9° from the -x-direction y-components of the force that Tsuroku exerts, and find the force’s
and 53.1° from the + y-direction. Find the x- and y-components of the net magnitude and direction.
external force on the statue, and find the force’s magnitude and direction.
VP4.1.3 An eagle descends steeply onto its prey. Its weight (the Be sure to review EXAMPLE 4.4 (Section 4.3) before attempting these
gravitational force on the eagle), of magnitude 60.0 N, points down- problems.
ward in the -y-direction. The lift force exerted on the eagle’s wings VP4.4.1 A box of books with mass 55 kg rests on the level floor of the
by the air, also of magnitude 60.0 N, is at an angle of 20.0° from campus bookstore. The floor is freshly waxed and has negligible friction.
184 CHAPTER 5 Applying Newton’s Laws

to a proton, an electron, and an antineutrino—and these nuclei decay at a known rate. By

measuring the fraction of carbon-14 that is left in an organism’s remains, scientists can
determine how long ago the organism died.
In the 1960s physicists developed a theory that described the electromagnetic and
weak interactions as aspects of a single electroweak interaction. This theory has passed
every experimental test to which it has been put. Encouraged by this success, physicists
have made similar attempts to describe the strong, electromagnetic, and weak interac-
tions in terms of a single grand unified theory (GUT) and have taken steps toward a
possible unification of all interactions into a theory of everything (TOE). Such theories
are still speculative, and there are many unanswered questions in this very active field of
current research.

CHAPTER 5 SUMMARY
Using Newton’s first law: When an object is in equilib- Vector form: y
gF = 0
rium in an inertial frame of reference—that is, either at S
(5.1) n n
rest or moving with constant velocity—the vector sum of
forces acting on it must be zero (Newton’s first law). Free- Component form:
T
g Fx = 0 g Fy = 0
body diagrams are essential in identifying the forces that w sin a
act on the object being considered. T
Newton’s third law (action and reaction) is also fre- w cos a x
a a
quently needed in equilibrium problems. The two forces in
w
an action–reaction pair never act on the same object. (See w
Examples 5.1–5.5.)
The normal force exerted on an object by a surface is
not always equal to the object’s weight. (See Example 5.4.)

Using Newton’s second law: If the vector sum of forces Vector form: y
g F = ma
on an object is not zero, the object accelerates. The accel- S S
(5.2)
eration is related to the net force by Newton’s second law. n n
a
Just as for equilibrium problems, free-body diagrams Component form: ax
T
g Fx = max g Fy = may
are essential for solving problems involving Newton’s sec-
m T w sin a
ond law, and the normal force exerted on an object is not
always equal to its weight. (See Examples 5.6–5.12.) w cos a x
a a
w
w

Friction and fluid resistance: The contact force between Magnitude of kinetic friction force: Static Kinetic
two objects can always be represented in terms of a normal f = m n (5.3) f friction friction
S k k
force n perpendicular
S
to the surface of contact and a fric- 1 fs2max
tion force f parallel to the surface. Magnitude of static friction force:
fk
When an object is sliding over the surface, the friction
fs … 1fs2max = msn (5.4)
force is called kinetic friction. Its magnitude fk is approxi-
mately equal to the normal force magnitude n multiplied by O T
the coefficient of kinetic friction mk .
When an object is not moving relative to a surface, the friction force is called static friction. The maximum
possible static friction force is approximately equal to the magnitude n of the normal force multiplied by the
coefficient of static friction ms . The actual static friction force may be anything from zero to this maximum value,
depending on the situation. Usually ms is greater than mk for a given pair of surfaces in contact. (See Examples
5.13–5.17.)
Rolling friction is similar to kinetic friction, but the force of fluid resistance depends on the speed of an
object through a fluid. (See Example 5.18.)
 Guided Practice 185

Forces in circular motion: In uniform circular motion, Acceleration in uniform circular motion: S
v
the acceleration vector is directed toward the center of the 2 2 S
S
arad
v
gF = ma. (See Examples 5.19–5.23.)
4p R ΣF
circle. The motion is governed by Newton’s second law, arad = = (5.13), (5.15)
S S R T2 S
v S
arad S
ΣF
S S
ΣF arad
S
v

Chapter 5 Media Assets

GUIDED PRACTICE For assigned homework and other learning materials, go to Mastering Physics.

KEY EXAMPLE ARIATION PROBLEMS VP5.15.3 You are using a lightweight rope to pull a sled along level
ground. The sled weighs 475 N, the coefficient of kinetic friction
Be sure to review EXAMPLE 5.5 (Section 5.1) before attempting these between the sled and the ground is 0.200, the rope is at an angle of
problems. In all problems, ignore air resistance. 12.0° above the horizontal, and you pull on the rope with a force of
VP5.5.1 In a modified version of the cart and bucket in Fig. 5.5a, the 125 N. (a) Find the normal force that the ground exerts on the sled.
angle of the slope is 36.9° and the bucket weighs 255 N. The cart moves (b) Find the acceleration of the sled. Is the sled speeding up or slow-
up the incline and the bucket moves downward, both at constant speed. ing down?
The cable has negligible mass, and there is no friction. (a) What is the VP5.15.4 A large box of mass m sits on a horizontal floor. You attach a
weight of the cart? (b) What is the tension in the cable? lightweight rope to this box, hold the rope at an angle u above the hori-
VP5.5.2 You increase the angle of the slope in Fig. 5.5a to 25.0° and zontal, and pull. You find that the minimum tension you can apply to the
use a different cart and a different bucket. You observe that the cart and rope in order to make the box start moving is Tmin. Find the coefficient
bucket remain at rest when released and that the tension in the cable of of static friction between the floor and the box.
negligible mass is 155 N. There is no friction. (a) What is the weight of
the cart? (b) What is the combined weight of the cart and bucket? Be sure to review EXAMPLES 5.20, 5.21, and 5.22 (Section 5.4)
VP5.5.3 You construct a version of the cart and bucket in Fig. 5.5a, but before attempting these problems.
with a slope whose angle can be adjusted. You use a cart of mass 175 kg VP5.22.1 You make a conical pendulum (see Fig. 5.32a) using a string
and a bucket of mass 65.0 kg. The cable has negligible mass, and there of length 0.800 m and a bob of mass 0.250 kg. When the bob is mov-
is no friction. (a) What must be the angle of the slope so that the cart ing in a circle at a constant speed, the string is at an angle of 20.0° from
moves downhill at a constant speed and the bucket moves upward at the vertical. (a) What is the radius of the circle around which the bob
the same constant speed? (b) With this choice of angle, what will be the moves? (b) How much time does it take the bob to complete one circle?
tension in the cable? (c) What is the tension in the string?
VP5.5.4 In the situation shown in Fig. 5.5a, let u be the angle of the VP5.22.2 A competition cyclist rides at a constant 12.5 m>s around a
slope and suppose there is friction between the cart and the track. You curve that is banked at 40.0°. The cyclist and her bicycle have a com-
find that if the cart and bucket each have the same weight w, they re- bined mass of 64.0 kg. (a) What must be the radius of her turn if there is
main at rest when released. In this case, what is the magnitude of the to be no friction force pushing her either up or down the banked curve?
friction force on the cart? Is it less than, greater than, or equal to w? (b) What is the magnitude of her acceleration? (c) What is the magni-
tude of the normal force that the surface of the banked curve exerts on
Be sure to review EXAMPLES 5.13, 5.14, and 5.15 (Section 5.3) be- the bicycle?
fore attempting these problems. VP5.22.3 An aerobatic airplane flying at a constant 80.0 m>s makes
VP5.15.1 You pull on a crate using a rope as in Fig. 5.21a, except the a horizontal turn of radius 175 m. The pilot has mass 80.0 kg. (a)
rope is at an angle of 20.0° above the horizontal. The weight of the crate What is the bank angle of the airplane? (b) What is the pilot’s appar-
is 325 N, and the coefficient of kinetic friction between the crate and ent weight during the turn? How many times greater than his actual
the floor is 0.250. (a) What must be the tension in the rope to make the weight is this?
crate move at a constant velocity? (b) What is the normal force that the VP5.22.4 A sports car moves around a banked curve at just the right
floor exerts on the crate? constant speed v so that no friction is needed to make the turn. During
VP5.15.2 You pull on a large box using a rope as in Fig. 5.21a, except the turn, the driver (mass m) feels as though she weighs x times her ac-
the rope is at an angle of 15.0° below the horizontal. The weight of the tual weight. (a) Find the magnitude of the net force on the driver during
box is 325 N, and the coefficient of kinetic friction between the box and the turn in terms of m, g, and x. (b) Find the radius of the turn in terms
the floor is 0.250. (a) What must be the tension in the rope to make the of v, g, and x.
box move at a constant velocity? (b) What is the normal force that the
floor exerts on the box?
218 CHAPTER 6 Work and Kinetic Energy

CHAPTER 6 SUMMARY
S S S
Work done by a force: When a constant force F acts on W = F ~ s = Fs cos f S

F# F W = FŒs
a particle that undergoes a straight-line displacement s ,
S
S
(6.2), (6.3) = (F cos f)s
S
f = angle between F and s f
the work done by the Sforce on the particle is defined to be
S
the scalar product of F and s . The unit of work in SI units FΠ= F cos f
is 1 joule = 1 newton@meter 11 J = 1 N # m2. Work is a
scalar quantity; it can be positive or negative, but it has no
direction in space. (See Examples 6.1 and 6.2.)

Kinetic energy: The kinetic energy K of a particle equals K = 12 mv2 (6.5) m 2m

the amount of work required to accelerate the particle S
v v
S

from rest to speed v. It is also equal to the amount of work

the particle can do in the process of being brought to rest. Doubling m doubles K.
Kinetic energy is a scalar that has no direction in space; it is
always positive or zero. Its units are the same as the units of
work: 1 J = 1 N # m = 1 kg # m2>s2.
m m
S S
v 2v

Doubling v quadruples K.

The work–energy theorem: When forces act on a particle Wtot = K2 - K1 = ∆K (6.6)

m
Wtot = Total work done on
while it undergoes a displacement, the particle’s kinetic v1 particle along path
energy changes by an amount equal to the total work done v2
on the particle by all the forces. This relationship, called m
K1 = 1
mv12
the work–energy theorem, is valid whether the forces are 2

constant or varying and whether the particle moves along a

straight or curved path. It is applicable only to objects that K2 = 1
2
mv22 = K1 + Wtot
can be treated as particles. (See Examples 6.3–6.5.)

x2
Work done by a varying force or on a curved path: When
Lx1
W = Fx dx (6.7)
a force varies during a straight-line displacement, the Area = Work done by
Fx
work done by the force is given by an integral, Eq. (6.7). force during dis-
(See Examples 6.6 and 6.7.) When a particleSfollows a P2 placement
LP1
S S

curved path, the work done on it by a force F is given by W = F ~ dl

an integral that involves the angle f between the force and (6.14) x
the displacement. This expression is valid even if the force P2 P2 O x1 x2
LP1 LP1
magnitude and the angle f vary during the displacement. = F cos f dl = FΠdl
(See Example 6.8.)

Power: Power is the time rate of doing work. The average ∆W

Pav = (6.15) ∆t = 5 s Work you do on the
power Pav is the amount of work ∆W done in time ∆t ∆t
box to lift it in ∆t = 5 s:
divided by that time. The instantaneous power is the ∆W dW ∆W = 100 J
limit of the average power as ∆t goes to zero. When a P = lim = (6.16)
S S ∆t S 0 ∆t dt Your average power output:
force F acts on a particle moving with velocity v, the ∆W 100 J
S Pav = =
instantaneous power (theS rate at which the force does work) P = F~v
S
(6.19) ∆t 5s
S
is the scalar product of F and v. Like work and kinetic t = 0 = 20 W
energy, power is a scalar quantity. The SI unit of power is
1 watt = 1 joule>second 11 W = 1 J>s2. (See Examples 6.9
and 6.10.)
244 CHAPTER 7 Potential Energy and Energy Conservation

of height, and the work done by this force depends on only the change in height. If the ob-
ject moves around a closed path, ending at the same height where it started, the total work
done by the gravitational force is always zero.
In summary, the work done by a conservative force has four properties:
1. It can be expressed as the difference between the initial and final values of a
potential-energy function.
2. It is reversible.
3. It is independent of the path of the object and depends on only the starting and
ending points.
4. When the starting and ending points are the same, the total work is zero.
When the only forces that do work are conservative forces, the total mechanical energy
E = K + U is constant.

Nonconservative Forces
Not all forces are conservative. Consider the friction force acting on the crate sliding on
a ramp in Example 7.6 (Section 7.1). When the crate slides up and then back down to the
starting point, the total work done on it by the friction force is not zero. When the di-
rection of motion reverses, so does the friction force, and friction does negative work in
both directions. Friction also acts when a car with its brakes locked skids with decreasing
speed (and decreasing kinetic energy). The lost kinetic energy can’t be recovered by re-
versing the motion or in any other way, and total mechanical energy is not conserved. So
there is no potential-energy function for the friction force.
In the same way, the force of fluid resistance (see Section 5.3) is not conservative. If
you throw a ball up in the air, air resistance does negative work on the ball while it’s rising
and while it’s descending. The ball returns to your hand with less speed and less kinetic
energy than when it left, and there is no way to get back the lost mechanical energy.
A force that is not conservative is called a nonconservative force. The work done
by a nonconservative force cannot be represented by a potential-energy function. Some
nonconservative forces, like kinetic friction or fluid resistance, cause mechanical energy
to be lost or dissipated; a force of this kind is called a dissipative force. There are also
nonconservative forces that increase mechanical energy. The fragments of an exploding
firecracker fly off with very large kinetic energy, thanks to a chemical reaction of gun-
powder with oxygen. The forces unleashed by this reaction are nonconservative because
the process is not reversible. (The fragments never spontaneously reassemble themselves
into a complete firecracker!)

EXAMPLE 7.10 Frictional work depends on the path

You are rearranging your furniture and wish to move a 40.0 kg futon Figure 7.19 Our sketch for this problem.
2.50 m across the room. A heavy coffee table, which you don’t want
to move, blocks this straight-line path. Instead, you slide the futon
along a dogleg path; the doglegs are 2.00 m and 1.50 m long. How
much more work must you do to push the futon along the dogleg path
than along the straight-line path? The coefficient of kinetic friction
is mk = 0.200.

IDENTIFY and SET UP Here both you and friction do work on the futon,
so we must use the energy relationship that includes “other” forces.
We’ll use this relationship to find a connection between the work that
you do and the work that friction does. Figure 7.19 shows our sketch.
The futon is at rest at both point 1 and point 2, so K1 = K2 = 0. There
Wyou, and the negative work done by friction, Wfric. Since the sum of
is no elastic potential energy (there are no springs), and the gravitational
these is zero, we have
potential energy does not change because the futon moves only hori-
Wyou = -Wfric
zontally, so U1 = U2. From Eq. (7.14) it follows that Wother = 0. That
“other” work done on the futon is the sum of the positive work you do, So we can calculate the work done by friction to determine Wyou.
252 CHAPTER 7 Potential Energy and Energy Conservation

CHAPTER 7 SUMMARY
Gravitational potential energy and elastic potential energy: Wgrav = mgy1 - mgy2 y
The work done on a particle by a constant gravitational = Ugrav, 1 - Ugrav, 2 Ugrav,1 = mgy1 1
force can be represented as a change in the gravitational = - ∆Ugrav (7.2), (7.3) Uel = 2 kx
2

potential energy, Ugrav = mgy. This energy is a shared

property of the particle and the earth. A potential energy Wel = 12 kx12 - 12 kx22 x
x = 0 x
is also associated with the elastic force Fx = - kx exerted
= Uel, 1 - Uel, 2 = - ∆Uel (7.10), (7.11) Ugrav,2 = mgy2
by an ideal spring, where x is the amount of stretch or com-
pression. The work done by this force can be represented O
as a change in the elastic potential energy of the spring,
Uel = 12 kx2.

When total mechanical energy is conserved: The total K1 + U1 = K2 + U2 (7.4), (7.12) y

potential energy U is the sum of the gravitational and elastic At y = h
potential energies: U = Ugrav + Uel . If no forces other than h E = K + Ugrav
the gravitational and elastic forces do work on a particle,

zero
At y = 0
the sum of kinetic and potential energies is conserved. This
O x E = K + Ugrav
sum E = K + U is called the total mechanical energy. (See
Examples 7.1, 7.3, 7.4, and 7.7.)

When total mechanical energy is not conserved: When K1 + U1 + Wother = K2 + U2 (7.14) Point 1 f = 0
At point 1 n = 0
forces other than the gravitational and elastic forces do w
R

zero
work on a particle, the work Wother done by these other
forces equals the change in total mechanical energy (kinetic E =K+Ugrav n
f n
energy plus total potential energy). (See Examples 7.2, 7.5, f
w

zero
7.6, 7.8, and 7.9.) At point 2
E =K+Ugrav Point 2
w

Conservative forces, nonconservative forces, and the ∆K + ∆U + ∆Uint = 0 (7.15) v

zero
zero
zero
law of conservation of energy: All forces are either
E =K + Ugrav
conservative or nonconservative. A conservative force E=K + Ugrav
v = 0
is one for which the work–kinetic energy relationship is As friction slows block,
completely reversible. The work of a conservative force can total mechanical energy is converted
to internal energy of block and ramp.
always be represented by a potential-energy function, but
the work of a nonconservative force cannot. The work done
by nonconservative forces manifests itself as changes in the
internal energy of objects. The sum of kinetic, potential,
and internal energies is always conserved. (See Examples
7.10–7.12.)

Determining force from potential energy: For motion along dU1x2 U

Fx 1x2 = - (7.16) Unstable equilibria
a straight line, a conservative force Fx 1x2 is the negative dx
derivative of its associated potential-energy function U. In 0U 0U 0U
Fx = - Fy = - Fz = - (7.17)
three dimensions, the components of a conservative force 0x 0y 0z
are negative partial derivatives of U. (See Examples 7.13 S 0U 0U 0U n
and 7.14.) F = −a nd + ne + kb x
0x 0y 0z O
S
Stable equilibria
= −𝛁U (7.18)
288 CHAPTER 8 Momentum, Impulse, and Collisions

CHAPTER 8 SUMMARY
Momentum of a particle: The momentum pS of a particle is a S
p ∙ mv S
S
(8.2) y
gF ∙
vector quantity equal to the product of the particle’s mass m and S dp S S
S (8.4) p = mv
velocity v. Newton’s second law says that the net external force on a dt py S
v
particle is equal to the rate of change of the particle’s momentum.

m px
x
O

Impulse and momentum: If a constant net external force g F J ∙ g F1t2 - t12 ∙ g F ∆t

S S S S
(8.5) Fx
S

g F dt
acts on a particle for a time interval ∆t from t1 to t2 , the impulse J t2 Jx = (Fav)x(t2 - t1)

Lt1
S S

the time interval. If g F varies with time, J is the integral of the net
of the net external force is the product of the net external force and J∙ (8.7)
S S

S
external force over the time interval. In any case, the change in a J ∙ p2 ∙ p1
S S
(8.6) (Fav)x
particle’s momentum during a time interval equals the impulse of
the net external force that acted on the particle during that interval.
t
The momentum of a particle equals the impulse that accelerated it O t1 t2
from rest to its present speed. (See Examples 8.1–8.3.)

Conservation of momentum: An internal force is a force exerted

S S S
P ∙ pA ∙ pB ∙ P
by one part of a system on another. An external force is a force S S
exerted on any part of a system by something outside the system. ∙ mAvA ∙ mBvB ∙ P (8.14) A B

If g F ∙ 0, then P ∙ constant.
If the net external force on a system is zero, the total momentum S S
S
of the system P (the vector sum of the momenta of the individual
particles that make up the system) is constant, or conserved. Each S y y S
FB on A FA on B
component of total momentum is separately conserved. (See
x x
Examples 8.4–8.6.) S S S
P = pA + pB = constant

Collisions: In typical collisions, the initial and final total momenta are equal. In an elastic collision between S
vA1
S
vB1
two objects, the initial and final total kinetic energies are also equal, and the initial and final relative veloci- A B

ties have the same magnitude. In an inelastic two-object collision, the total kinetic energy is less after the A B
collision than before. If the two objects have the same final velocity, the collision is completely inelastic. A B
S S
(See Examples 8.7–8.12.) vA2 vB2

Center of mass: The position vector of the center of mass of a

S S S
S m1 r1 ∙ m2 r2 ∙ m3 r3 ∙ P Shell explodes
S S rcm ∙
system of particles, rcm , is a weighted average of the positions r1 , m1 + m2 + m3 + g cm

a mi ri
S cm
r2 , c of the individual particles. The total momentum P of a sys-
S
S
cm
tem equals the system’s total mass M multiplied by the velocity of i
∙ (8.29)
a mi
S
its center of mass, vcm . The center of mass moves as though all the
mass M were concentrated at that point. If the net external force on i
S
the system is zero, the center-of-mass velocity vcm is constant. If S S
P ∙ m1v1 ∙ m2v2 ∙ m3v3 ∙ P
S S

the net external force is not zero, the center of mass accelerates as S
∙ Mvcm (8.32)
g Fext ∙ Macm
though it were a particle of mass M being acted on by the same net S S
external force. (See Examples 8.13 and 8.14.) (8.34)

Rocket propulsion: In rocket propulsion, the mass of a rocket changes as the fuel is used up and ejected from the rocket. +x-direction
Analysis of the motion of the rocket must include the momentum carried away by the spent fuel as well as the momentum of vfuel = v − vex v + dv
the rocket itself. (See Examples 8.15 and 8.16.)

−dm m + dm
 Summary 319

CHAPTER 9 SUMMARY
Rotational kinematics: When a rigid body rotates about ∆u du y
vz = lim = (9.3)
a stationary axis (usually called the z-axis), the body’s ∆t S 0 ∆t dt
position is described by an angular coordinate u. The At t2 At t1
angular velocity vz is the time derivative of u, and the ∆vz dvz ∆u
az = lim = (9.5)
angular acceleration az is the time derivative of vz or the ∆t S 0 ∆t dt u2
u1
second derivative of u. (See Examples 9.1 and 9.2.) If the x
O
angular acceleration is constant, then u, vz , and az are Constant az only:
related by simple kinematic equations analogous to those
for straight-line motion with constant linear acceleration. u = u0 + v0z t + 12 az t 2 (9.11)
(See Example 9.3.) u - u0 = 12 1v0z + vz2t (9.10)
vz = v0z + az t (9.7)
vz2 = v0z2 + 2az 1u - u02 (9.12)

Relating linear and angular kinematics: The angular speed v = rv (9.13) y atan = ra
v of a rigid body is the magnitude of the body’s angular ve- dv dv v
v = rv
locity. The rate of change of v is a = dv>dt. For a particle atan = = r = ra (9.14) S
dt dt Linear a
P
in the body a distance r from the rotation axis, the speed v v2 acceleration
S
and the components of the acceleration a are related to v arad = = v2r (9.15)
of point P
arad = v2r
r r s
and a. (See Examples 9.4 and 9.5.) u
x
O

Moment of inertia and rotational kinetic energy: The I = m1 r 12 + m2 r 22 + g Axis of

= a mi r i
v
moment of inertia I of a body about a given axis is a 2
(9.16) rotation m2
measure of its rotational inertia: The greater the value of I, r2
i
the more difficult it is to change the state of the body rota-
K = 12 Iv2 (9.17) m1
tion. The moment of inertia can be expressed as a sum over r1
the particles mi that make up the body, each of which is
at its own perpendicular distance ri from the axis. The r3
rotational kinetic energy of a rigid body rotating about a m3
fixed axis depends on the angular speed v and the moment
of inertia I for that rotation axis. (See Examples 9.6–9.8.)

Calculating the moment of inertia: The parallel-axis IP = Icm + Md 2 (9.19)

theorem relates the moments of inertia of a rigid body d
of mass M about two parallel axes: an axis through cm
the center of mass (moment of inertia Icm) and a Mass M P
Icm
parallel axis a distance d from the first axis (mo-
ment of inertia IP). (See Example 9.9.) If the body has IP = Icm + Md 2
a continuous mass distribution, the moment of inertia
can be calculated by integration. (See Examples 9.10
and 9.11.)
 Summary 353

CHAPTER 10 SUMMARY
S
Torque: When a force F acts on an object, the torque of t = Fl = rF sin f = Ftan r (10.2) Frad = F cos f
S l = r sin f
that force with respect to a point O has a magnitude given S
T∙r: F
S
(10.3) = lever arm
f f
by the product of the force magnitude F and the lever arm l. S
F
S
More generally, torque is a vector T equal to the vector S
S r
product of r (theS position vector of the point at which the Ftan = F sin f
force acts) and F. (See Example 10.1.) S
O
S S
T=r: F

Rotational dynamics: The rotational analog of Newton’s g tz = Iaz (10.7) y

second law says that the net torque acting on an object F F n
equals the product of the object’s moment of inertia and its R R
angular acceleration. (See Examples 10.2 and 10.3.) x
M
Mg

Combined translation and rotation: If a rigid body is K = 12 Mvcm2 + 12 Icm v2 (10.8)

g Fext ∙ M acm
both moving through space and rotating, its motion can S S
(10.12) R
g tz = Icm az
be regarded as translational motion of the center of mass
plus rotational motion about an axis through the center (10.13) vcm = 0
1 M v = 0
of mass. Thus the kinetic energy is a sum of translational vcm = Rv (10.11)
and rotational kinetic energies. For dynamics, Newton’s (rolling without slipping) h v
second law describes the motion of the center of mass, and
the rotational equivalent of Newton’s second law describes 2
rotation about the center of mass. In the case of rolling vcm
without slipping, there is a special relationship between
the motion of the center of mass and the rotational motion.
(See Examples 10.4–10.7.)

Work done by a torque: A torque that acts on a rigid body u2

Lu1
as it rotates does work on that body. The work can be W = tz du (10.20)
S

expressed as an integral of the torque. The work– energy Ftan

W = tz1u2 - u12 = tz ∆u (10.21)
theorem says that the total rotational work done on a ds
(constant torque only) du
rigid body is equal to the change in rotational kinetic S R R
energy. The power, or rate at which the torque does work, Wtot = 12 Iv22 - 12 Iv12 (10.22) Ftan
is the product of the torque and the angular velocity O
P = tz vz (10.23)
(See Example 10.8.)

Angular momentum: The angular momentum of a particle

S S S S S
L ∙ r : p ∙ r : mv (10.24) S
L
with respect to point O is the vector product of the par- (particle)
S
ticle’s position vector r relative to O and its momentum S S
V
S

S S
p ∙ mv. When a symmetrical object rotates about a sta- L ∙ IV (10.28)
tionary axis of symmetry, its angular momentum is the (rigid body rotating
product of its moment of inertia and its angular velocity about axis of symmetry)
S
vector V. If the object is not symmetrical or the rotation
1z2 axis is not an axis of symmetry, the component of
angular momentum along the rotation axis is Ivz . (See
Example 10.9.)

gT ∙
Rotational dynamics and angular momentum: The net
S
S dL
external torque on a system is equal to the rate of change (10.29)
dt
of its angular momentum. If the net external torque on a S
dL
system is zero, the total angular momentum of the system is ∙0 (10.31)
dt
constant (conserved). (See Examples 10.10–10.13.)
(zero net external torque)
 Summary 381

CHAPTER 11 SUMMARY
Conditions for equilibrium: For a rigid body to be in gF ∙ 0
S
(11.1)

gT ∙ 0 about any point

equilibrium, two conditions must be satisfied. First, the T
S
vector sum of forces must be zero. Second, the sum of (11.2)
torques about any point must be zero. The torque due to
S S S
the weight of an object can be found by assuming the en- S m1 r1 ∙ m2 r2 ∙ m3 r3 ∙ P w E
tire weight is concentrated at the center of gravity, which rcm ∙ (11.4)
m1 + m2 + m3 + g
S
is at the same point as the center of mass if g has the same y
T
value at all points. (See Examples 11.1–11.4.)
Ty Ex
x
Tx
Ey
w

Stress, strain, and Hooke’s law: Hooke’s law states that in Stress
= Elastic modulus (11.7)
elastic deformations, stress (force per unit area) is propor- Strain
tional to strain (fractional deformation). The proportional-
ity constant is called the elastic modulus.

Tensile and compressive stress: Tensile stress is tensile Tensile stress F#>A F# l0 Initial
force per unit area, F#>A. Tensile strain is fractional Y = = = (11.10) A state
Tensile strain ∆l>l0 A ∆l
change in length, ∆l>l0 . The elastic modulus for tension is
l0
called Young’s modulus Y. Compressive stress and strain ∆l
are defined in the same way. (See Example 11.5.) F# A F#

Bulk stress: Pressure in a fluid is force per unit area. Bulk F#

p = (11.11)
stress is pressure change, ∆p, and bulk strain is fractional A Volume
volume change, ∆V>V0 . The elastic modulus for compres- Pressure = p0 V0
∆p
sion is called the bulk modulus, B. Compressibility, k, is the B = Bulk stress = - (11.13)
reciprocal of bulk modulus: k = 1>B. (See Example 11.6.) Bulk strain ∆V>V0 F# F#

Pressure = p F# F#
Volume
= p0 + ∆ p V
F#
F#

Shear stress: Shear stress is force per unit area, FŒ>A, Shear stress FŒ>A FŒ h A
S = = = (11.17) Initial
for a force applied tangent to a surface. Shear strain is Shear strain x>h A x state
h
the displacement x of one side divided by the transverse
FŒ
dimension h. The elastic modulus for shear is called the x A
shear modulus, S. (See Example 11.7.)
FŒ

The limits of Hooke’s law: The proportional limit is the maximum stress for which stress and strain are
proportional. Beyond the proportional limit, Hooke’s law is not valid. The elastic limit is the stress beyond
which irreversible deformation occurs. The breaking stress, or ultimate strength, is the stress at which the
material breaks.
 Summary 481

Resonance and Its Consequences

The peaking of the amplitude at driving frequencies close to the natural frequency of the
system is called resonance. Physics is full of examples of resonance; building up the os- BIO APPLICATION Canine
Resonance Unlike humans, dogs have no
cillations of a child on a swing by pushing with a frequency equal to the swing’s natural sweat glands and so must pant in order to
frequency is one. A vibrating rattle in a car that occurs only at a certain engine speed is cool down. The frequency at which a dog
another example. Inexpensive loudspeakers often have an annoying boom or buzz when pants is very close to the resonant frequency
a musical note coincides with the natural frequency of the speaker cone or housing. In of its respiratory system. This causes the
Chapter 16 we’ll study examples of resonance that involve sound. Resonance also occurs maximum amount of air inflow and outflow
and so minimizes the effort that the dog
in electric circuits, as we’ll see in Chapter 31; a tuned circuit in a radio receiver responds must exert to cool itself.
strongly to waves with frequencies near its natural frequency. This phenomenon lets us
select one radio station and reject other stations.
Resonance in mechanical systems can be destructive. A company of soldiers once de-
stroyed a bridge by marching across it in step; the frequency of their steps was close to a
natural frequency of the bridge, and the resulting oscillation had large enough amplitude
to tear the bridge apart. Ever since, marching soldiers have been ordered to break step
before crossing a bridge. Some years ago, vibrations of the engines of a particular type of
airplane had just the right frequency to resonate with the natural frequencies of its wings.
Large oscillations built up, and occasionally the wings fell off.

TEST YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF SECTION 14.8 When driven at a frequency near its
natural frequency, an oscillator with very little damping has a much greater response than the same
oscillator with more damping. When driven at a frequency that is much higher or lower than the
natural frequency, which oscillator will have the greater response: (i) the one with very little damp-
ing or (ii) the one with more damping?

ANSWER
driving frequency.
the oscillator with the least damping (smallest value of b) will have the greatest response at any
frequencies as the value of the damping constant b is decreased. Hence for fixed values of k and m,
❙ (i) Figure 14.28 shows that the curve of amplitude versus driving frequency moves upward at all

CHAPTER 14 SUMMARY
Periodic motion: Periodic motion is motion that repeats 1 1 x
f = T = (14.1)
itself in a definite cycle. It occurs whenever an object has T f
a stable equilibrium position and a restoring force that
2p x = -A x = 0 x = A
acts when the object is displaced from equilibrium. v = 2pf = (14.2) x 6 0 x 7 0
T
Period T is the time for one cycle. Frequency f is the ax y y y ax
number of cycles per unit time. Angular frequency v is 2p n n n
Fx Fx
times the frequency. (See Example 14.1.) x x x
mg mg mg

Simple harmonic motion: If the restoring force Fx in Fx = - kx (14.3) x

periodic motion is directly proportional to the dis- A
Fx k
placement x, the motion is called simple harmonic ax = = - x (14.4)
m m O t
motion (SHM). In many cases this condition is satis- T 2T
fied if the displacement from equilibrium is small. k -A
The angular frequency, frequency, and period in SHM v = (14.10)
Am
do not depend on the amplitude but on only the mass m
and force constant k. The displacement, velocity, and v 1 k
f = = (14.11)
acceleration in SHM are sinusoidal functions of time; 2p 2p A m
the amplitude A and phase angle f of the oscillation are 1 m
determined by the initial displacement and velocity of T = = 2p (14.12)
f Ak
the object. (See Examples 14.2, 14.3, 14.6, and 14.7.)
x = A cos1vt + f2 (14.13)
482 CHAPTER 14 Periodic Motion

Energy in simple harmonic motion: Energy is conserved E = 12 mvx2 + 12 kx2 Energy E = K + U

in SHM. The total energy can be expressed in terms of (14.21)
1 2 U
= 2 kA = constant
the force constant k and amplitude A. (See Examples 14.4 K
and 14.5.)
x
-A O A

Angular simple harmonic motion: In angular SHM, k Balance wheel Spring

v = and
the frequency and angular frequency are related to the AI
moment of inertia I and the torsion constant k. (14.24)
1 k
f = tz u
2p A I Spring torque tz opposes
angular displacement u.

Simple pendulum: A simple pendulum consists of a g

v = (14.32)
point mass m at the end of a massless string of length L. AL
Its motion is approximately simple harmonic for suffi- L
v 1 g
ciently small amplitude; the angular frequency, frequency, f = = (14.33)
2p 2p A L
and period then depend on only g and L, not on the mass u
or amplitude. (See Example 14.8.) T
2p 1 L
T = = = 2p (14.34) mg cos u
v f Ag mg sin u
mg

Physical pendulum: A physical pendulum is any mgd O

object suspended from an axis of rotation. The angular v = (14.38)
B I
frequency and period for small-amplitude oscillations are d sinu
u d
independent of amplitude but depend on the mass m, dis- I cg
T = 2p (14.39) mg sinu
tance d from the axis of rotation to the center of gravity, A mgd
mg cos u
and moment of inertia I about the axis. (See Examples 14.9
mg
and 14.10.)

Damped oscillations: When a force Fx = - bvx is added x = Ae-1b>2m2t cos 1v′t + f2 (14.42) x
to a simple harmonic oscillator, the motion is called a A Ae-1b>2m2t
damped oscillation. If b 6 21km (called underdamp- k b2
ing), the system oscillates with a decaying amplitude and v′ = - (14.43)
B m 4m2
an angular frequency v′ that is lower than it would be O t
T0 2T0 3T0 4T0 5T0
without damping. If b = 21km (called critical damping)
or b 7 21km (called overdamping), when the system is
b = 0.12km
displaced it returns to equilibrium without oscillating.
-A b = 0.42km

Forced oscillations and resonance: When a sinusoidally Fmax A

A = (14.46) 5Fmax>k b = 0.22km
varying driving force is added to a damped harmonic 21k - mvd22 2 + b2vd2
4Fmax>k b = 0.42km
oscillator, the resulting motion is called a forced oscilla-
3Fmax>k b = 0.72km
tion or driven oscillation. The amplitude is a function of
2Fmax>k b = 1.02km
the driving frequency vd and reaches a peak at a driving Fmax>k
frequency close to the natural frequency of the system. b = 2.02km
vd >v
This behavior is called resonance. 0 0.5 1.0 1.5 2.0
 Summary 519

CHAPTER 15 SUMMARY
Waves and their properties: A wave is any disturbance that v = lf (15.1) Wave
speed
propagates from one region to another. A mechanical wave v
Wavelength l
travels within some material called the medium. The wave
speed v depends on the type of wave and the properties of
the medium.
In a periodic wave, the motion of each point of the Each particle of
Amplitude A rope oscillates
medium is periodic with frequency f and period T. The in SHM.
wavelength l is the distance over which the wave pattern
repeats, and the amplitude A is the maximum displacement
of a particle in the medium. The product of l and f equals
the wave speed. A sinusoidal wave is a special periodic
wave in which each point moves in simple harmonic
motion. (See Example 15.1.)

Wave functions and wave dynamics: The wave function y

x
y1x, t2 describes the displacements of individual particles y1x, t2 = A cos c va - tb d (15.3)
v A
in the medium. Equations (15.3), (15.4), and (15.7) give x
the wave equation for a sinusoidal wave traveling in the x t A
y1x, t2 = A cos 2pca - bd (15.4)
+ x@direction. If the wave is moving in the -x@direction, l T
Wavelength l
the minus signs in the cosine functions are replaced by y1x, t2 = A cos1kx - vt2 (15.7)
y
plus signs. (See Example 15.2.)
where k = 2p>l and v = 2pf = vk
The wave function obeys a partial differential equation A
called the wave equation, Eq. (15.12). 02y1x, t2 2
1 0 y1x, t2 t
= (15.12) A
The speed of transverse waves on a string depends 0x2 v2 0t 2 Period T
on the tension F and mass per unit length m.
F
(See Example 15.3.) v = (waves on a string) (15.14)
Am

Wave power: Wave motion conveys energy from one region Pav = 12 2mF v2A2 (15.25) Wave power versus time t
to another. For a sinusoidal mechanical wave, the average (average power, sinusoidal wave)
at coordinate x = 0
power Pav is proportional to the square of the wave ampli- P
tude and the square of the frequency. For waves that spread I1 r22 Pmax
= 2 (15.26)
out in three dimensions, the wave intensity I is inversely I2 r1 Pav = 12 Pmax
proportional to the square of the distance from the source. (inverse@square law for intensity)
0 t
(See Examples 15.4 and 15.5.) Period T

Wave superposition: A wave reflects when it reaches y1x, t2 = y11x, t2 + y21x, t2 (15.27)
a boundary of its medium. At any point where two or (principle of superposition)
more waves overlap, the total displacement is the sum
of the displacements of the individual waves (principle
of superposition). O

Standing waves on a string: When a sinusoidal wave y1x, t2 = 1ASW sin kx2 sin vt (15.28) N A N
is reflected from a fixed or free end of a stretched string, (standing wave on a string, l
= L
2
the incident and reflected waves combine to form a fixed end at x = 0) N A N A N
standing sinusoidal wave with nodes and antinodes. v
fn = n = nf1 1n = 1, 2, 3, c2 (15.33)
Adjacent nodes are spaced a distance l>2 apart, as are 2L 2 l
2
= L
adjacent antinodes. (See Example 15.6.) N A N A N A N
1 F
When both ends of a string with length L are held fixed, f1 = (15.35)
2L A m 3 l
= L
standing waves can occur only when L is an integer multiple 2
(string fixed at both ends)
of l>2. Each frequency with its associated vibration pattern N A N A N A N A N
is called a normal mode. (See Examples 15.7 and 15.8.) 4
l
= L
2
596 CHAPTER 17 Temperature and Heat

CHAPTER 17 SUMMARY
Temperature and temperature scales: Two objects in thermal equilib- TK = TC + 273.15 (17.1) If systems A and B are each in
rium must have the same temperature. A conducting material between thermal equilibrium with system C …
T2 p2
two objects permits them to interact and come to thermal equilibrium; = (17.2)
an insulating material impedes this interaction. T1 p1 Insulator

The Celsius temperature scale is based on the freezing 10°C2 and boil- A B A B
ing 1100°C2 temperatures of water.
The Kelvin scale has its zero at the extrapolated zero-pressure C C
Conductor
temperature for a gas thermometer, - 273.15°C = 0 K. In the gas-
thermometer scale, the ratio of two temperatures T1 and T2 is defined to
… then systems A and B are in
be equal to the ratio of the two corresponding gas-thermometer pres- thermal equilibrium with each other.
sures p1 and p2 .

Thermal expansion and thermal stress: A temperature change ∆T ∆L = aL 0 ∆T (17.4) L = L 0 + ∆L

causes a change in any linear dimension L 0 of a solid object. The = L 0 (1 + a ∆T )
change ∆L is approximately proportional to L 0 and ∆T. Similarly, ∆V = bV0 ∆T (17.6)
T0
a temperature change causes a change ∆V in the volume V0 of any L0 ∆L
solid or liquid; ∆V is approximately proportional to V0 and ∆T. F T0 + ∆T
= -Ya ∆T (17.10)
The quantities a and b are the coefficients of linear expansion A
and volume expansion, respectively. For solids, b = 3a. (See
Examples 17.2 and 17.3.)
When a material is cooled or heated and held so it cannot contract or
expand, it is under a tensile stress F>A. (See Example 17.4.)

Heat, phase changes, and calorimetry: Heat is energy in transit from Q = mc ∆T (17.11) Phase changes, temperature is constant:
one object to another as a result of a temperature difference. Equations Q = +mL
(17.11) and (17.16) give the quantity of heat Q required to cause a tem- T (°C)
Q = nC ∆T (17.16)
perature change ∆T in a quantity of material with mass m and specific 100
Boiling point
heat c (alternatively, with number of moles n and molar heat capac- Q = {mL (17.18)
ity C = Mc, where M is the molar mass and m = nM). When heat is Melting point
0
added to an object, Q is positive; when it is removed, Q is negative. t
(See Examples 17.5 and 17.6.)
Temperature rises, phase does not change:
To change a mass m of a material to a different phase at the same Q = mc ∆T
temperature (such as liquid to vapor), a quantity of heat given by
Eq. (17.18) must be added or subtracted. Here L is the heat of fusion,
vaporization, or sublimation.
In an isolated system whose parts interact by heat exchange, the
algebraic sum of the Q’s for all parts of the system must be zero.
(See Examples 17.7–17.10.)

Conduction, convection, and radiation: Conduction is the transfer of dQ TH - TC Heat current H

heat within materials without bulk motion of the materials. The heat H = = kA (17.19)
dt L
current H depends on the area A through which the heat flows, the
length L of the heat-flow path, the temperature difference 1TH - TC2, TH A TC
H = AesT 4 (17.23)
and the thermal conductivity k of the material. (See Examples L
17.11–17.13.) TH - TC
Heat current H = kA
Convection is a complex heat-transfer process that involves mass Hnet = Aes1T 4 - Ts42 (17.24) L
motion from one region to another.
Radiation is energy transfer through electromagnetic radiation. The
radiation heat current H depends on the surface area A, the emissivity e
of the surface (a pure number between 0 and 1), and the Kelvin tempera-
ture T. Here s is the Stefan–Boltzmann constant. The net radiation heat
current Hnet from an object at temperature T to its surroundings at tem-
perature Ts depends on both T and Ts. (See Examples 17.14 and 17.15.)
630 CHAPTER 18 Thermal Properties of Matter

Figure 18.27 A pVT-surface for an ideal V1 6 V2 6 V3 p T1 6 T2 6 T3 6 T4

V1
gas. At the left, each orange line cor- T1 T2 T3
responds to a certain constant volume; at p T4
the right, each green line corresponds to a V2
certain constant temperature.
V3

O
P
R
E
O S
S V
U
R
E
Constant pressure
(isobars) VO
Constant volume LU E
(isochors) M UR
E AT
Constant temperature ER
MP
(isotherms) TE

Figure 18.27 shows the much simpler pVT-surface for a substance that obeys the ideal-
gas equation of state under all conditions. The projections of the constant-temperature
curves onto the pV-plane correspond to the curves of Fig. 18.6, and the projections of the
constant-volume curves onto the pT-plane show that pressure is directly proportional to
absolute temperature. Figure 18.27 also shows the isobars (curves of constant pressure)
and isochors (curves of constant volume) for an ideal gas.

TEST YOUR UNDERSTANDING OF SECTION 18.6 The average atmospheric pressure on

Mars is 6.0 * 102 Pa. Could there be lakes of liquid water on the surface of Mars today? What
about in the past, when the atmospheric pressure is thought to have been substantially greater?

ANSWER
Mars in the past, when the atmosphere was thicker.
Planetary scientists conclude that liquid water could have existed and almost certainly did exist on
Hence liquid water cannot exist on the present-day Martian surface, and there are no rivers or lakes.
pressure on Mars is just less than this value, corresponding to the line labeled ps in Fig. 18.24.
❙ no, yes The triple-point pressure of water from Table 18.3 is 6.10 * 102 Pa. The present-day

CHAPTER 18 SUMMARY
p
Equations of state: The pressure p, volume V, and absolute pV = nRT (18.3)
T4 7 T3 7 T2 7 T1
temperature T of a given quantity of a substance are related
by an equation of state. This relationship applies only for T4
equilibrium states, in which p and T are uniform through- T3
T2
out the system. The ideal-gas equation of state, Eq. (18.3), T1
V
involves the number of moles n and a constant R that is the O
same for all gases. (See Examples 18.1–18.4.)

Molecular properties of matter: The molar mass M of a mtotal = nM (18.2) Chloride

ions
pure substance is the mass per mole. The mass mtotal of a
quantity of substance equals M multiplied by the number of M = NA m (18.8)
moles n. Avogadro’s number NA is the number of molecules
in a mole. The mass m of an individual molecule is M di- Sodium
ions
vided by NA . (See Example 18.5.)
 Guided Practice 631

Kinetic-molecular model of an ideal gas: In an ideal y

Kt r = 32 nRT (18.14) v1x = - 0 vx 0
gas, the total translational kinetic energy of the gas as a Molecule
1 2 3
whole 1Kt r2 and the average translational kinetic energy 2 m1v 2av = 2 kT (18.16)
v before collision
per molecule 312 m1v22av4 are proportional to the absolute 3kT v1y = vy
temperature T, and the root-mean-square speed of mol- vrms = 21v22av = (18.19)
A m
ecules is proportional to the square root of T. These ex- Molecule after
pressions involve the Boltzmann constant k = R>NA . (See V collision
l = vtmean = (18.21) v2x = 0 vx 0
Examples 18.6 and 18.7.) The mean free path l of molecules 4p12 r 2N
v
in an ideal gas depends on the number of molecules per vol- v2y = vy
ume 1N>V2 and the molecular radius r. (See Example 18.8.) x

Heat capacities: The molar heat capacity at constant vol- CV = 32 R (monatomic gas) (18.25) 4R
CV

ume CV is a simple multiple of the gas constant R for certain 7R>2 7R>2
idealized cases: an ideal monatomic gas [Eq. (18.25)]; an CV = 52 R (diatomic gas) (18.26) 3R Vibration
5R>2 5R>2
ideal diatomic gas including rotational energy [Eq. (18.26)]; CV = 3R (monatomic solid) (18.28) 2R Rotation
3R>2 3R>2
and an ideal monatomic solid [Eq. (18.28)]. Many real sys- R
Translation
tems are approximated well by these idealizations. R>2
T (K)
O

10,000
1000
2500
5000
100
250
500
25
50
Molecular speeds: The speeds of molecules in an ideal gas m 3>2 2 -mv2>2kT Fraction of molecules
are distributed according to the Maxwell–Boltzmann distri- f 1v2 = 4pa b ve (18.32) f (v)
with speeds from v1 to v2
2pkT
bution f 1v2. The quantity f 1v2 dv describes what fraction vmp
of the molecules have speeds between v and v + dv. T

v
O v1 v2

p
Phases of matter: Ordinary matter exists in the solid, liquid, and gas phases. A phase diagram SOLID LIQUID
shows conditions under which two phases can coexist in phase equilibrium. All three phases Critical
can coexist at the triple point. The vaporization curve ends at the critical point, above which point

Fusion
the distinction between the liquid and gas phases disappears. tio
n
o riza
Vap
ion VAPOR
t Triple
ima
S u bl point
T
O

Chapter 18 Media Assets

GUIDED PRACTICE For assigned homework and other learning materials, go to Mastering Physics.

(For comparison, the values are 42 mol>m3 and 1.2 kg>m3 at the earth’s
KEY EXAMPLE ARIATION PROBLEMS
surface.)
Be sure to review EXAMPLES 18.1, 18.2, 18.3, and 18.4 VP18.4.4 When the pressure on n moles of helium gas is suddenly
(Section 18.1) before attempting these problems. changed from an initial value of p1 to a final value of p2, the den-
VP18.4.1 When the temperature is 30.0°C, the pressure of the air in- sity of the gas changes from its initial value of r1 to a final value of
side a bicycle tire of fixed volume 1.40 * 10-3 m3 is 5.00 * 105 Pa. r2 = r1(p2 > p1)3/5. (a) If the initial absolute temperature of the gas is
(a) What will be the pressure inside the tire when the temperature drops T1, what is its final absolute temperature T2 in terms of T1, p1, and p2?
to 10.0°C? (b) How many moles of air are inside the tire? (b) If the final pressure is 0.500 times the initial pressure, what are the
VP18.4.2 When a research balloon is released at sea level, where the ratio of the final density to the initial density and the ratio of the final
temperature is 15.0°C and the atmospheric pressure is 1.01 * 105 Pa, the temperature to the initial temperature? (c) Repeat part (b) if the final
helium in it has volume 13.0 m3. (a) When the balloon reaches an altitude pressure is 2.00 times the initial pressure.
of 32.0 km, where the temperature is - 44.5°C and the pressure is 868 Pa,
what is the volume of the helium? (b) If this balloon is spherical, how Be sure to review EXAMPLES 18.6 and 18.7 (Section 18.3) before
many times larger is its radius at 32.0 km than at sea level? attempting these problems.
VP18.4.3 The dwarf planet Pluto has a very thin atmosphere made up VP18.7.1 At what temperature (in °C) is the rms speed of helium atoms
almost entirely of nitrogen (N2, molar mass 2.8 * 10-2 kg>mol). At Pluto’s (molar mass 4.00 g>mol) the same as the rms speed of nitrogen mol-
surface the temperature is 42 K and the atmospheric pressure is 1.0 Pa. ecules (molar mass 28.0 g>mol) at 20.0°C? (Note that helium remains a
At the surface, (a) how many moles of gas are there per cubic meter of gas at temperatures above -269°C.)
atmosphere, and (b) what is the density of the atmosphere in kg>m3? Continued
660 CHAPTER 19 The First Law of Thermodynamics

CHAPTER 19 SUMMARY
Heat and work in thermodynamic processes: A thermo- V2 p Volume increases

LV1
dynamic system has the potential to exchange energy with W = p dV (19.2) 1 (V2 7 V1):
p1 work and area
its surroundings by heat transfer or by mechanical work. are positive.
When a system at pressure p changes volume from V1 to W = p1V2 - V12 (19.3) 2
V2 , it does an amount of work W given by the integral of p p2
(constant pressure only)
with respect to volume. If the pressure is constant, the work
= JV p dV 7 0
Work = Area
done is equal to p times the change in volume. A negative V2

value of W means that work is done on the system. (See 1

Example 19.1.) V
O V1 V2
In any thermodynamic process, the heat added to the
system and the work done by the system depend not only
on the initial and final states, but also on the path (the series
of intermediate states through which the system passes).

The first law of thermodynamics: The first law of ∆U = Q - W (19.4) Surroundings

thermodynamics states that when heat Q is added to a (environment)
system while the system does work W, the internal energy dU = dQ - dW (19.6) Q = 150 J W = 100 J
U changes by an amount equal to Q - W. This law (infinitesimal process)
can also be expressed for an infinitesimal process. (See System
Examples 19.2, 19.3, and 19.5.)
The internal energy of any thermodynamic system ∆U = Q - W = +50 J
depends only on its state. The change in internal energy in
any process depends only on the initial and final states, not
on the path. The internal energy of an isolated system is
constant. (See Example 19.4.)

Important kinds of thermodynamic processes: p

Isobaric
a T3 7 Ta
pa
• Adiabatic process: No heat transfer into or out of a system; Q = 0. 3 Isothermal
T4 = Ta
• Isochoric process: Constant volume; W = 0. Isochoric
T2 6 Ta
• Isobaric process: Constant pressure; W = p1V2 - V12. 2
1
4
V
• Isothermal process: Constant temperature. O Va Adiabatic
T1 6 Ta

Thermodynamics of ideal gases: The internal energy of an Cp = CV + R (19.17) p

T1 , U1
ideal gas depends only on its temperature, not on its pres-
Cp T2 , U2
sure or volume. For other substances the internal energy g = (19.18) p2
CV Q = ∆U
generally depends on both pressure and temperature. Q = ∆U + W
The molar heat capacities CV and Cp of an ideal gas dif- p1
fer by R, the ideal-gas constant. The dimensionless ratio of W
V
heat capacities, Cp>CV , is denoted by g. (See Example 19.6.) O V1 V2

Adiabatic processes in ideal gases: For an adiabatic pro- W = nCV 1T1 - T22 (19.25) p T T + dT
cess for an ideal gas, the quantities TV g-1 and pV g are pa a
CV Adiabatic process a S b:
constant. The work done by an ideal gas during an adiabatic = 1p V - p2 V22
expansion can be expressed in terms of the initial and final R 1 1 Q = 0, ∆U = -W
(19.26)
values of temperature, or in terms of the initial and final val- 1 pb b
= 1p V - p2 V22 W
ues of pressure and volume. (See Example 19.7.) g - 1 1 1
V
O Va Vb
 Summary 697

CHAPTER 20 SUMMARY
Reversible and irreversible processes: A reversible process is one whose direction can be reversed by an Irreversible: 40°C
Ice at Water,
infinitesimal change in the conditions of the process, and in which the system is always in or very close to Metal,
0°C
70°C 40°C
thermal equilibrium. All other thermodynamic processes are irreversible.
Reversible: Ice at 0°C
Water,
Metal, 0°C 0°C
0°C

Heat engines: A heat engine takes heat QH from a source, W QC QC QH Hot reservoir, TH
converts part of it to work W, and discards the remainder e = = 1 + = 1 - ` ` (20.4) Engine
QH QH QH
0 QC 0 at a lower temperature. The thermal efficiency e of W W = QH + QC
a heat engine measures how much of the absorbed heat is 0 QC 0 = 0 QH 0 - 0 QC 0
converted to work. (See Example 20.1.) Cold reservoir, TC

The Otto cycle: A petrol engine operating on the Otto 1 p

c
e = 1 - (20.6) QH
cycle has a theoretical maximum thermal efficiency e that r g-1 Otto cycle
depends on the compression ratio r and the ratio of heat ca- b
W d
pacities g of the working substance. 0Q 0
a C
O V
V rV

Refrigerators: A refrigerator takes heat QC from a colder 0 QC 0 0 QC 0 Outside air, TH

K = = 0 QH 0
place, has a work input 0 W 0 , and discards heat 0 QH 0 at a (20.9) Refrigerator
0W0 0 QH 0 - 0 QC 0
warmer place. The effectiveness of the refrigerator is given 0W 0
by its coefficient of performance K.
QC Inside of refrigerator, TC

The second law of thermodynamics: The second law of thermodynamics describes the directionality of natu- TH
QH - 0 QC 0
ral thermodynamic processes. It can be stated in two equivalent forms. The engine statement is that no cyclic 100%-efficient engine
process can convert heat completely into work. The refrigerator statement is that no cyclic process can trans- Impossible W
fer heat from a colder place to a hotter place with no input of mechanical work.
TC

The Carnot cycle: The Carnot cycle operates between two TC TH - TC p

eCarnot = 1 - = (20.14) a
heat reservoirs at temperatures TH and TC and uses only TH TH Carnot cycle
reversible processes. Its thermal efficiency depends only on QH
TH and TC . An additional equivalent statement of the second
W b
law is that no engine operating between the same two tem- TH
d
peratures can be more efficient than a Carnot engine. (See 0 QC0 c TC
V
Examples 20.2 and 20.3.) O
A Carnot engine run backward is a Carnot refrigerator.
Its coefficient of performance depends on only TH and TC . TC
KCarnot = (20.15)
Another form of the second law states that no refrigerator TH - TC
operating between the same two temperatures can have a
larger coefficient of performance than a Carnot refrigerator.
(See Example 20.4.)
 1/6 of a mole of He gas is taken along the path abc shown as the solid line in the above figure. Assume
that the gas may be treated as ideal; pa = 9×104 Pa; pb = 27×104 Pa; Va = 0.005 m3; Vb = 0.015 m3; Vc = 0.025
m3 .
Question 1. How much work done by the system along the path abc?
A. 4032 J B. 3600 J C. 4392 J D. 2520 J
Question 2. What is the internal energy change of the system through the path abc?
A. 1891 J B. 2107 J C. 2701 J D. 2377 J

Question 3. A Carnot engine operates between 345 C and 170 C, absorbing 3.8×104 J per cycle at the higher
temperature. How much work per cycle is this engine capable of performing?
1/2 - Mã đề 001
 A. 1.08×104 J B. 1.31×104 J C. 1.40×104 J D. 0.95×104 J

Question 4. Figure above shows a pV-diagram for an ideal gas in which its absolute temperature at b is 1/4
of its absolute temperature at a; pb = 1.6 atm; Va = 0.7 L. How many joules of work was done by or on the
gas in this process?
A. 110.6 J B. 85.1 J C. -85.1 J D. -110.6 J

Question 5. You make tea with 0.39 kg of 70°C water and let it cool to room temperature (27°C) before
drinking it. Calculate the entropy change of the water while it cools. Assume that the specific heat of tea is
constant at 4190 J/kg K over this temperature range.
A. -267 J/K B. 219 J/K C. 267 J/K D. -219 J/K
------ END ------

2/2 - Mã đề 001
because, for the first time, he has been compelled to break his word.’”
The young man uttered a groan, but appeared resigned.
“And now,” said Morrel, “leave me alone, and endeavor to keep your
mother and sister away.”
“Will you not see my sister once more?” asked Maximilian. A last but final
hope was concealed by the young man in the effect of this interview, and
therefore he had suggested it. Morrel shook his head. “I saw her this morning,
and bade her adieu.”
“Have you no particular commands to leave with me, my father?” inquired
Maximilian in a faltering voice.
“Yes; my son, and a sacred command.”
“Say it, my father.”
“The house of Thomson & French is the only one who, from humanity, or,
it may be, selfishness—it is not for me to read men’s hearts—has had any pity
for me. Its agent, who will in ten minutes present himself to receive the
amount of a bill of 287,500 francs, I will not say granted, but offered me three
months. Let this house be the first repaid, my son, and respect this man.”
“Father, I will,” said Maximilian.
“And now, once more, adieu,” said Morrel. “Go, leave me; I would be
alone. You will find my will in the secretary in my bedroom.”
The young man remained standing and motionless, having but the force of
will and not the power of execution.
“Hear me, Maximilian,” said his father. “Suppose I was a soldier like you,
and ordered to carry a certain redoubt, and you knew I must be killed in the
assault, would you not say to me, as you said just now, ‘Go, father; for you are
dishonored by delay, and death is preferable to shame!’”
“Yes, yes,” said the young man, “yes;” and once again embracing his
father with convulsive pressure, he said, “Be it so, my father.”
And he rushed out of the study. When his son had left him, Morrel
remained an instant standing with his eyes fixed on the door; then putting forth
his arm, he pulled the bell. After a moment’s interval, Cocles appeared.
It was no longer the same man—the fearful revelations of the three last
days had crushed him. This thought—the house of Morrel is about to stop
payment—bent him to the earth more than twenty years would otherwise have
done.
“My worthy Cocles,” said Morrel in a tone impossible to describe, “do you
remain in the antechamber. When the gentleman who came three months ago
—the agent of Thomson & French—arrives, announce his arrival to me.”
Cocles made no reply; he made a sign with his head, went into the anteroom,
and seated himself. Morrel fell back in his chair, his eyes fixed on the clock;
there were seven minutes left, that was all. The hand moved on with incredible
rapidity, he seemed to see its motion.
What passed in the mind of this man at the supreme moment of his agony
cannot be told in words. He was still comparatively young, he was surrounded
by the loving care of a devoted family, but he had convinced himself by a
course of reasoning, illogical perhaps, yet certainly plausible, that he must
separate himself from all he held dear in the world, even life itself. To form the
slightest idea of his feelings, one must have seen his face with its expression
of enforced resignation and its tear-moistened eyes raised to heaven. The
minute hand moved on. The pistols were loaded; he stretched forth his hand,
took one up, and murmured his daughter’s name. Then he laid it down, seized
his pen, and wrote a few words. It seemed to him as if he had not taken a
sufficient farewell of his beloved daughter. Then he turned again to the clock,
counting time now not by minutes, but by seconds. He took up the deadly
weapon again, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the clock, and then
shuddered at the click of the trigger as he cocked the pistol. At this moment of
mortal anguish the cold sweat came forth upon his brow, a pang stronger than
death clutched at his heart-strings. He heard the door of the staircase creak on
its hinges—the clock gave its warning to strike eleven—the door of his study
opened; Morrel did not turn round—he expected these words of Cocles, “The
agent of Thomson & French.”
He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth. Suddenly he heard a
cry—it was his daughter’s voice. He turned and saw Julie. The pistol fell from
his hands. “My father!” cried the young girl, out of breath, and half dead with
joy—“saved, you are saved!” And she threw herself into his arms, holding in
her extended hand a red, netted silk purse.
“Saved, my child!” said Morrel; “what do you mean?”
“Yes, saved—saved! See, see!” said the young girl.
Morrel took the purse, and started as he did so, for a vague remembrance
reminded him that it once belonged to himself. At one end was the receipted
bill for the 287,000 francs, and at the other was a diamond as large as a hazel-
nut, with these words on a small slip of parchment: Julie’s Dowry.
Morrel passed his hand over his brow; it seemed to him a dream. At this
moment the clock struck eleven. He felt as if each stroke of the hammer fell
upon his heart. “Explain, my child,” he said, “Explain, my child,” he said,
“explain—where did you find this purse?”
 “In a house in the Allées de Meillan, No. 15, on the corner of a
mantelpiece in a small room on the fifth floor.”
“But,” cried Morrel, “this purse is not yours!” Julie handed to her father
the letter she had received in the morning.
“And did you go alone?” asked Morrel, after he had read it.
“Emmanuel accompanied me, father. He was to have waited for me at the
corner of the Rue de Musée, but, strange to say, he was not there when I
returned.”
“Monsieur Morrel!” exclaimed a voice on the stairs.—“Monsieur Morrel!”
“It is his voice!” said Julie. At this moment Emmanuel entered, his
countenance full of animation and joy. “The Pharaon!” he cried; “the
Pharaon!”
“What—what—the Pharaon! Are you mad, Emmanuel? You know the
vessel is lost.”
“The Pharaon, sir—they signal the Pharaon! The Pharaon is entering the
harbor!” Morrel fell back in his chair, his strength was failing him; his
understanding weakened by such events, refused to comprehend such
incredible, unheard-of, fabulous facts. But his son came in. “Father,” cried
Maximilian, “how could you say the Pharaon was lost? The lookout has
signalled her, and they say she is now coming into port.”
“My dear friends,” said Morrel, “if this be so, it must be a miracle of
heaven! Impossible, impossible!”
But what was real and not less incredible was the purse he held in his hand,
the acceptance receipted—the splendid diamond.
“Ah, sir,” exclaimed Cocles, “what can it mean?—the Pharaon?”
“Come, dear ones,” said Morrel, rising from his seat, “let us go and see,
and heaven have pity upon us if it be false intelligence!” They all went out,
and on the stairs met Madame Morrel, who had been afraid to go up into the
study. In a moment they were at the Canebière. There was a crowd on the pier.
All the crowd gave way before Morrel. “The Pharaon, the Pharaon!” said
every voice.
And, wonderful to see, in front of the tower of Saint-Jean, was a ship
bearing on her stern these words, printed in white letters, “The Pharaon,
Morrel & Son, of Marseilles.” She was the exact duplicate of the other
Pharaon, and loaded, as that had been, with cochineal and indigo. She cast
anchor, clued up sails, and on the deck was Captain Gaumard giving orders,
and good old Penelon making signals to M. Morrel. To doubt any longer was
impossible; there was the evidence of the senses, and ten thousand persons
who came to corroborate the testimony. As Morrel and his son embraced on
the pier-head, in the presence and amid the applause of the whole city
witnessing this event, a man, with his face half-covered by a black beard, and
who, concealed behind the sentry-box, watched the scene with delight, uttered
these words in a low tone: “Be happy, noble heart, be blessed for all the good
thou hast done and wilt do hereafter, and let my gratitude remain in obscurity
like your good deeds.”
And with a smile expressive of supreme content, he left his hiding-place,
and without being observed, descended one of the flights of steps provided for
debarkation, and hailing three times, shouted “Jacopo, Jacopo, Jacopo!” Then
a launch came to shore, took him on board, and conveyed him to a yacht
splendidly fitted up, on whose deck he sprung with the activity of a sailor;
thence he once again looked towards Morrel, who, weeping with joy, was
shaking hands most cordially with all the crowd around him, and thanking
with a look the unknown benefactor whom he seemed to be seeking in the
skies. “And now,” said the unknown, “farewell kindness, humanity, and
gratitude! Farewell to all the feelings that expand the heart! I have been
heaven’s substitute to recompense the good—now the god of vengeance yields
to me his power to punish the wicked!”
At these words he gave a signal, and, as if only awaiting this signal, the
yacht instantly put out to sea.

Chapter 31.
Italy: Sinbad the Sailor

Towards the beginning of the year 1838, two young men belonging to the
first society of Paris, the Vicomte Albert de Morcerf and the Baron Franz
d’Epinay, were at Florence. They had agreed to see the Carnival at Rome that
year, and that Franz, who for the last three or four years had inhabited Italy,
should act as cicerone to Albert. As it is no inconsiderable affair to spend the
Carnival at Rome, especially when you have no great desire to sleep on the
Piazza del Popolo, or the Campo Vaccino, they wrote to Signor Pastrini, the
proprietor of the Hôtel de Londres, Piazza di Spagna, to reserve comfortable
apartments for them. Signor Pastrini replied that he had only two rooms and a
parlor on the third floor, which he offered at the low charge of a louis per
diem. They accepted his offer; but wishing to make the best use of the time
that was left, Albert started for Naples. As for Franz, he remained at Florence,
and after having passed a few days in exploring the paradise of the Cascine,
and spending two or three evenings at the houses of the Florentine nobility, he
took a fancy into his head (having already visited Corsica, the cradle of
Bonaparte) to visit Elba, the waiting-place of Napoleon.
One evening he cast off the painter of a sailboat from the iron ring that
secured it to the dock at Leghorn, wrapped himself in his coat and lay down,
and said to the crew,—“To the Island of Elba!” The boat shot out of the harbor
like a bird and the next morning Franz disembarked at Porto-Ferrajo. He
traversed the island, after having followed the traces which the footsteps of the
giant have left, and re-embarked for Marciana. Two hours after he again
landed at Pianosa, where he was assured that red partridges abounded. The
sport was bad; Franz only succeeded in killing a few partridges, and, like
every unsuccessful sportsman, he returned to the boat very much out of
temper. “Ah, if your excellency chose,” said the captain, “you might have
capital sport.”
“Where?”
“Do you see that island?” continued the captain, pointing to a conical pile
rising from the indigo sea.
“Well, what is this island?”
“The Island of Monte Cristo.”
“But I have no permission to shoot over this island.”
“Your excellency does not require a permit, for the island is uninhabited.”
“Ah, indeed!” said the young man. “A desert island in the midst of the
Mediterranean must be a curiosity.”
“It is very natural; this island is a mass of rocks, and does not contain an
acre of land capable of cultivation.”
“To whom does this island belong?”
“To Tuscany.”
“What game shall I find there!”
“Thousands of wild goats.”
“Who live upon the stones, I suppose,” said Franz with an incredulous
smile.
“No, but by browsing the shrubs and trees that grow out of the crevices of
the rocks.”
“Where can I sleep?”
“On shore in the grottos, or on board in your cloak; besides, if your
excellency pleases, we can leave as soon as you like—we can sail as well by
night as by day, and if the wind drops we can use our oars.”
As Franz had sufficient time, and his apartments at Rome were not yet
available, he accepted the proposition. Upon his answer in the affirmative, the
sailors exchanged a few words together in a low tone. “Well,” asked he, “what
now? Is there any difficulty in the way?”
“No.” replied the captain, “but we must warn your excellency that the
island is an infected port.”
“What do you mean?”
“Monte Cristo although uninhabited, yet serves occasionally as a refuge for
the smugglers and pirates who come from Corsica, Sardinia, and Africa, and if
it becomes known that we have been there, we shall have to perform
quarantine for six days on our return to Leghorn.”
“The deuce! That puts a different face on the matter. Six days! Why, that’s
as long as the Almighty took to make the world! Too long a wait—too long.”
“But who will say your excellency has been to Monte Cristo?”
“Oh, I shall not,” cried Franz.
“Nor I, nor I,” chorused the sailors.
“Then steer for Monte Cristo.”
The captain gave his orders, the helm was put up, and the boat was soon
sailing in the direction of the island. Franz waited until all was in order, and
when the sail was filled, and the four sailors had taken their places—three
forward, and one at the helm—he resumed the conversation. “Gaetano,” said
he to the captain, “you tell me Monte Cristo serves as a refuge for pirates, who
are, it seems to me, a very different kind of game from the goats.”
“Yes, your excellency, and it is true.”
“I knew there were smugglers, but I thought that since the capture of
Algiers, and the destruction of the regency, pirates existed only in the
romances of Cooper and Captain Marryat.”
“Your excellency is mistaken; there are pirates, like the bandits who were
believed to have been exterminated by Pope Leo XII., and who yet, every day,
rob travellers at the gates of Rome. Has not your excellency heard that the
French chargé d’affaires was robbed six months ago within five hundred paces
of Velletri?”
“Oh, yes, I heard that.”
“Well, then, if, like us, your excellency lived at Leghorn, you would hear,
from time to time, that a little merchant vessel, or an English yacht that was
expected at Bastia, at Porto-Ferrajo, or at Civita Vecchia, has not arrived; no
one knows what has become of it, but, doubtless, it has struck on a rock and
foundered. Now this rock it has met has been a long and narrow boat, manned
by six or eight men, who have surprised and plundered it, some dark and
stormy night, near some desert and gloomy island, as bandits plunder a
carriage in the recesses of a forest.”
“But,” asked Franz, who lay wrapped in his cloak at the bottom of the boat,
“why do not those who have been plundered complain to the French,
Sardinian, or Tuscan governments?”
“Why?” said Gaetano with a smile.
“Yes, why?”
“Because, in the first place, they transfer from the vessel to their own boat
whatever they think worth taking, then they bind the crew hand and foot, they
attach to everyone’s neck a four and twenty pound ball, a large hole is
chopped in the vessel’s bottom, and then they leave her. At the end of ten
minutes the vessel begins to roll heavily and settle down. First one gun’l goes
under, then the other. Then they lift and sink again, and both go under at once.
All at once there’s a noise like a cannon—that’s the air blowing up the deck.
Soon the water rushes out of the scupper-holes like a whale spouting, the
vessel gives a last groan, spins round and round, and disappears, forming a
vast whirlpool in the ocean, and then all is over, so that in five minutes nothing
but the eye of God can see the vessel where she lies at the bottom of the sea.
Do you understand now,” said the captain, “why no complaints are made to
the government, and why the vessel never reaches port?”
It is probable that if Gaetano had related this previous to proposing the
expedition, Franz would have hesitated, but now that they had started, he
thought it would be cowardly to draw back. He was one of those men who do
not rashly court danger, but if danger presents itself, combat it with the most
unalterable coolness. Calm and resolute, he treated any peril as he would an
adversary in a duel,—calculated its probable method of approach; retreated, if
at all, as a point of strategy and not from cowardice; was quick to see an
opening for attack, and won victory at a single thrust. “Bah!” said he, “I have
travelled through Sicily and Calabria—I have sailed two months in the
Archipelago, and yet I never saw even the shadow of a bandit or a pirate.”
“I did not tell your excellency this to deter you from your project,” replied
Gaetano, “but you questioned me, and I have answered; that’s all.”
“Yes, and your conversation is most interesting; and as I wish to enjoy it as
long as possible, steer for Monte Cristo.”
 The wind blew strongly, the boat made six or seven knots an hour, and they
were rapidly reaching the end of their voyage. As they drew near the island
seemed to lift from the sea, and the air was so clear that they could already
distinguish the rocks heaped on one another, like cannon balls in an arsenal,
with green bushes and trees growing in the crevices. As for the sailors,
although they appeared perfectly tranquil yet it was evident that they were on
the alert, and that they carefully watched the glassy surface over which they
were sailing, and on which a few fishing-boats, with their white sails, were
alone visible. They were within fifteen miles of Monte Cristo when the sun
began to set behind Corsica, whose mountains appeared against the sky,
showing their rugged peaks in bold relief; this mass of rock, like the giant
Adamastor, rose dead ahead, a formidable barrier, and intercepting the light
that gilded its massive peaks so that the voyagers were in shadow. Little by
little the shadow rose higher and seemed to drive before it the last rays of the
expiring day; at last the reflection rested on the summit of the mountain, where
it paused an instant, like the fiery crest of a volcano, then gloom gradually
covered the summit as it had covered the base, and the island now only
appeared to be a gray mountain that grew continually darker; half an hour
after, the night was quite dark.
Fortunately, the mariners were used to these latitudes, and knew every rock
in the Tuscan Archipelago; for in the midst of this obscurity Franz was not
without uneasiness—Corsica had long since disappeared, and Monte Cristo
itself was invisible; but the sailors seemed, like the lynx, to see in the dark,
and the pilot who steered did not evince the slightest hesitation. An hour had
passed since the sun had set, when Franz fancied he saw, at a quarter of a mile
to the left, a dark mass, but he could not precisely make out what it was, and
fearing to excite the mirth of the sailors by mistaking a floating cloud for land,
he remained silent; suddenly a great light appeared on the strand; land might
resemble a cloud, but the fire was not a meteor. “What is this light?” asked he.
“Hush!” said the captain; “it is a fire.”
“But you told me the island was uninhabited?”
“I said there were no fixed habitations on it, but I said also that it served
sometimes as a harbor for smugglers.”
“And for pirates?”
“And for pirates,” returned Gaetano, repeating Franz’s words. “It is for that
reason I have given orders to pass the island, for, as you see, the fire is behind
us.”
“But this fire?” continued Franz. “It seems to me rather reassuring than
otherwise; men who did not wish to be seen would not light a fire.”
 “Oh, that goes for nothing,” said Gaetano. “If you can guess the position of
the island in the darkness, you will see that the fire cannot be seen from the
side or from Pianosa, but only from the sea.”
“You think, then, this fire indicates the presence of unpleasant neighbors?”
“That is what we must find out,” returned Gaetano, fixing his eyes on this
terrestrial star.
“How can you find out?”
“You shall see.” Gaetano consulted with his companions, and after five
minutes’ discussion a manœuvre was executed which caused the vessel to tack
about, they returned the way they had come, and in a few minutes the fire
disappeared, hidden by an elevation of the land. The pilot again changed the
course of the boat, which rapidly approached the island, and was soon within
fifty paces of it. Gaetano lowered the sail, and the boat came to rest. All this
was done in silence, and from the moment that their course was changed not a
word was spoken.
Gaetano, who had proposed the expedition, had taken all the responsibility
on himself; the four sailors fixed their eyes on him, while they got out their
oars and held themselves in readiness to row away, which, thanks to the
darkness, would not be difficult. As for Franz, he examined his arms with the
utmost coolness; he had two double-barrelled guns and a rifle; he loaded them,
looked at the priming, and waited quietly. During this time the captain had
thrown off his vest and shirt, and secured his trousers round his waist; his feet
were naked, so he had no shoes and stockings to take off; after these
preparations he placed his finger on his lips, and lowering himself noiselessly
into the sea, swam towards the shore with such precaution that it was
impossible to hear the slightest sound; he could only be traced by the
phosphorescent line in his wake. This track soon disappeared; it was evident
that he had touched the shore. Everyone on board remained motionless for half
an hour, when the same luminous track was again observed, and the swimmer
was soon on board. “Well?” exclaimed Franz and the sailors in unison.
“They are Spanish smugglers,” said he; “they have with them two Corsican
bandits.”
“And what are these Corsican bandits doing here with Spanish
smugglers?”
“Alas,” returned the captain with an accent of the most profound pity, “we
ought always to help one another. Very often the bandits are hard pressed by
gendarmes or carbineers; well, they see a vessel, and good fellows like us on
board, they come and demand hospitality of us; you can’t refuse help to a poor
hunted devil; we receive them, and for greater security we stand out to sea.
This costs us nothing, 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 was not in a
Corsican’s nature to revenge himself.”
“What do you mean by having made a stiff?—having assassinated a man?”
said Franz, continuing his investigation.
“I mean that they have killed an enemy, which is a very different thing,”
returned the captain.
“Well,” said the young man, “let us demand hospitality of these smugglers
and bandits. Do you think they will grant it?”
“Without doubt.”
“How many are they?”
“Four, and the two bandits make six.”
“Just our number, so that if they prove troublesome, we shall be able to
hold them in check; so, for the last time, steer to Monte Cristo.”
“Yes, but your excellency will permit us to take all due precautions.”
“By all means, be as wise as Nestor and as prudent as Ulysses; I do more
than permit, I exhort you.”
“Silence, then!” said Gaetano.
Everyone obeyed. For a man who, like Franz, viewed his position in its
true light, it was a grave one. He was alone in the darkness with sailors whom
he did not know, and who had no reason to be devoted to him; who knew that
he had several thousand francs in his belt, and who had often examined his
weapons,—which were very beautiful,—if not with envy, at least with
curiosity. On the other hand, he was about to land, without any other escort
than these men, on an island which had, indeed, a very religious name, but
which did not seem to Franz likely to afford him much hospitality, thanks to
the smugglers and bandits. The history of the scuttled vessels, which had
appeared improbable during the day, seemed very probable at night; placed as
he was between two possible sources of danger, he kept his eye on the crew,
and his gun in his hand. The sailors had again hoisted sail, and the vessel was
once more cleaving the waves. Through the darkness Franz, whose eyes were
now more accustomed to it, could see the looming shore along which the boat
was sailing, and then, as they rounded a rocky point, he saw the fire more
brilliant than ever, and about it five or six persons seated. The blaze illumined
the sea for a hundred paces around. Gaetano skirted the light, carefully
keeping the boat in the shadow; then, when they were opposite the fire, he
steered to the centre of the circle, singing a fishing song, of which his
companions sung the chorus. At the first words of the song the men seated
round the fire arose and approached the landing-place, their eyes fixed on the
boat, evidently seeking to know who the new-comers were and what were
their intentions. They soon appeared satisfied and returned (with the exception
of one, who remained at the shore) to their fire, at which the carcass of a goat
was roasting. When the boat was within twenty paces of the shore, the man on
the beach, who carried a carbine, presented arms after the manner of a
sentinel, and cried, “Who comes there?” in Sardinian. Franz coolly cocked
both barrels. Gaetano then exchanged a few words with this man which the
traveller did not understand, but which evidently concerned him. “Will your
excellency give your name, or remain incognito?” asked the captain.
“My name must rest unknown,—merely say I am a Frenchman travelling
for pleasure.” As soon as Gaetano had transmitted this answer, the sentinel
gave an order to one of the men seated round the fire, who rose and
disappeared among the rocks. Not a word was spoken, everyone seemed
occupied, Franz with his disembarkment, the sailors with their sails, the
smugglers with their goat; but in the midst of all this carelessness it was
evident that they mutually observed each other. The man who had disappeared
returned suddenly on the opposite side to that by which he had left; he made a
sign with his head to the sentinel, who, turning to the boat, said,
“S’accommodi.” The Italian s’accommodi is untranslatable; it means at once,
“Come, enter, you are welcome; make yourself at home; you are the master.”
It is like that Turkish phrase of Molière’s that so astonished the bourgeois
gentleman by the number of things implied in its utterance. The sailors did not
wait for a second invitation; four strokes of the oar brought them to land;
Gaetano sprang to shore, exchanged a few words with the sentinel, then his
comrades disembarked, and lastly came Franz. One of his guns was swung
over his shoulder, Gaetano had the other, and a sailor held his rifle; his dress,
half artist, half dandy, did not excite any suspicion, and, consequently, no
disquietude. The boat was moored to the shore, and they advanced a few paces
to find a comfortable bivouac; but, doubtless, the spot they chose did not suit
the smuggler who filled the post of sentinel, for he cried out, “Not that way, if
you please.”
Gaetano faltered an excuse, and advanced to the opposite side, while two
sailors kindled torches at the fire to light them on their way. They advanced
about thirty paces, and then stopped at a small esplanade surrounded with
rocks, in which seats had been cut, not unlike sentry-boxes. Around in the
crevices of the rocks grew a few dwarf oaks and thick bushes of myrtles.
Franz lowered a torch, and saw by the mass of cinders that had accumulated
that he was not the first to discover this retreat, which was, doubtless, one of
the halting-places of the wandering visitors of Monte Cristo. As for his
suspicions, once on terra firma, once that he had seen the indifferent, if not
friendly, appearance of his hosts, his anxiety had quite disappeared, or rather,
at sight of the goat, had turned to appetite. He mentioned this to Gaetano, who
replied that nothing could be more easy than to prepare a supper when they
had in their boat, bread, wine, half a dozen partridges, and a good fire to roast
them by. “Besides,” added he, “if the smell of their roast meat tempts you, I
will go and offer them two of our birds for a slice.”
“You are a born diplomat,” returned Franz; “go and try.”
Meanwhile the sailors had collected dried sticks and branches with which
they made a fire. Franz waited impatiently, inhaling the aroma of the roasted
meat, when the captain returned with a mysterious air.
“Well,” said Franz, “anything new?—do they refuse?”
“On the contrary,” returned Gaetano, “the chief, who was told you were a
young Frenchman, invites you to sup with him.”
“Well,” observed Franz, “this chief is very polite, and I see no objection—
the more so as I bring my share of the supper.”
“Oh, it is not that; he has plenty, and to spare, for supper; but he makes one
condition, and rather a peculiar one, before he will receive you at his house.”
“His house? Has he built one here, then?”
“No, but he has a very comfortable one all the same, so they say.”
“You know this chief, then?”
 “I have heard talk of him.”
“Favorably or otherwise?”
“Both.”
“The deuce!—and what is this condition?”
“That you are blindfolded, and do not take off the bandage until he himself
bids you.” Franz looked at Gaetano, to see, if possible, what he thought of this
proposal. “Ah,” replied he, guessing Franz’s thought, “I know this is a serious
matter.”
“What should you do in my place?”
“I, who have nothing to lose,—I should go.”
“You would accept?”
“Yes, were it only out of curiosity.”
“There is something very peculiar about this chief, then?”
“Listen,” said Gaetano, lowering his voice, “I do not know if what they say
is true”—he stopped to see if anyone was near.
“What do they say?”
“That this chief inhabits a cavern to which the Pitti Palace is nothing.”
“What nonsense!” said Franz, reseating himself.
“It is no nonsense; it is quite true. Cama, the pilot of the Saint Ferdinand,
went in once, and he came back amazed, vowing that such treasures were only
to be heard of in fairy tales.”
“Do you know,” observed Franz, “that with such stories you make me
think of Ali Baba’s enchanted cavern?”
“I tell you what I have been told.”
“Then you advise me to accept?”
“Oh, I don’t say that; your excellency will do as you please; I should be
sorry to advise you in the matter.”
Franz pondered the matter for a few moments, concluded that a man so
rich could not have any intention of plundering him of what little he had, and
seeing only the prospect of a good supper, accepted. Gaetano departed with
the reply. Franz was prudent, and wished to learn all he possibly could
concerning his host. He turned towards the sailor, who, during this dialogue,
had sat gravely plucking the partridges with the air of a man proud of his
office, and asked him how these men had landed, as no vessel of any kind was
visible.
“Never mind that,” returned the sailor, “I know their vessel.”
“Is it a very beautiful vessel?”
“I would not wish for a better to sail round the world.”
“Of what burden is she?”
“About a hundred tons; but she is built to stand any weather. She is what
the English call a yacht.”
“Where was she built?”
“I know not; but my own opinion is she is a Genoese.”
“And how did a leader of smugglers,” continued Franz, “venture to build a
vessel designed for such a purpose at Genoa?”
“I did not say that the owner was a smuggler,” replied the sailor.
“No; but Gaetano did, I thought.”
“Gaetano had only seen the vessel from a distance, he had not then spoken
to anyone.”
“And if this person be not a smuggler, who is he?”
“A wealthy signor, who travels for his pleasure.”
“Come,” thought Franz, “he is still more mysterious, since the two
accounts do not agree.”
“What is his name?”
“If you ask him, he says Sinbad the Sailor; but I doubt if it be his real
name.”
“Sinbad the Sailor?”
“Yes.”
“And where does he reside?”
“On the sea.”
“What country does he come from?”
“I do not know.”
“Have you ever seen him?”
“Sometimes.”
“What sort of a man is he?”
 “Your excellency will judge for yourself.”
“Where will he receive me?”
“No doubt in the subterranean palace Gaetano told you of.”
“Have you never had the curiosity, when you have landed and found this
island deserted, to seek for this enchanted palace?”
“Oh, yes, more than once, but always in vain; we examined the grotto all
over, but we never could find the slightest trace of any opening; they say that
the door is not opened by a key, but a magic word.”
“Decidedly,” muttered Franz, “this is an Arabian Nights’ adventure.”
“His excellency waits for you,” said a voice, which he recognized as that
of the sentinel. He was accompanied by two of the yacht’s crew. Franz drew
his handkerchief from his pocket, and presented it to the man who had spoken
to him. Without uttering a word, they bandaged his eyes with a care that
showed their apprehensions of his committing some indiscretion. Afterwards
he was made to promise that he would not make the least attempt to raise the
bandage. He promised.
Then his two guides took his arms, and he went on, guided by them, and
preceded by the sentinel. After going about thirty paces, he smelt the
appetizing odor of the kid that was roasting, and knew thus that he was
passing the bivouac; they then led him on about fifty paces farther, evidently
advancing towards that part of the shore where they would not allow Gaetano
to go—a refusal he could now comprehend. Presently, by a change in the
atmosphere, he knew that they were entering a cave; after going on for a few
seconds more he heard a crackling, and it seemed to him as though the
atmosphere again changed, and became balmy and perfumed. At length his
feet touched on a thick and soft carpet, and his guides let go their hold of him.
There was a moment’s silence, and then a voice, in excellent French, although,
with a foreign accent, said,
“Welcome, sir. I beg you will remove your bandage.” It may be supposed,
then, Franz did not wait for a repetition of this permission, but took off the
handkerchief, and found himself in the presence of a man from thirty-eight to
forty years of age, dressed in a Tunisian costume, that is to say, a red cap with
a long blue silk tassel, a vest of black cloth embroidered with gold, pantaloons
of deep red, large and full gaiters of the same color, embroidered with gold
like the vest, and yellow slippers; he had a splendid cashmere round his waist,
and a small sharp and crooked cangiar was passed through his girdle.
Although of a paleness that was almost livid, this man had a remarkably
handsome face; his eyes were penetrating and sparkling; his nose, quite
straight, and projecting direct from the brow, was of the pure Greek type,
while his teeth, as white as pearls, were set off to admiration by the black
moustache that encircled them.
His pallor was so peculiar, that it seemed to pertain to one who had been
long entombed, and who was incapable of resuming the healthy glow and hue
of life. He was not particularly tall, but extremely well made, and, like the men
of the south, had small hands and feet. But what astonished Franz, who had
treated Gaetano’s description as a fable, was the splendor of the apartment in
which he found himself.
The entire chamber was lined with crimson brocade, worked with flowers
of gold. In a recess was a kind of divan, surmounted with a stand of Arabian
swords in silver scabbards, and the handles resplendent with gems; from the
ceiling hung a lamp of Venetian glass, of beautiful shape and color, while the
feet rested on a Turkey carpet, in which they sunk to the instep; tapestry hung
before the door by which Franz had entered, and also in front of another door,
leading into a second apartment which seemed to be brilliantly illuminated.
The host gave Franz time to recover from his surprise, and, moreover,
returned look for look, not even taking his eyes off him.
“Sir,” he said, after a pause, “a thousand excuses for the precaution taken
in your introduction hither; but as, during the greater portion of the year, this
island is deserted, if the secret of this abode were discovered. I should
doubtless, find on my return my temporary retirement in a state of great
disorder, which would be exceedingly annoying, not for the loss it occasioned
me, but because I should not have the certainty I now possess of separating
myself from all the rest of mankind at pleasure. Let me now endeavor to make
you forget this temporary unpleasantness, and offer you what no doubt you did
not expect to find here—that is to say, a tolerable supper and pretty
comfortable beds.”
“Ma foi, my dear sir,” replied Franz, “make no apologies. I have always
observed that they bandage people’s eyes who penetrate enchanted palaces, for
instance, those of Raoul in the Huguenots, and really I have nothing to
complain of, for what I see makes me think of the wonders of the Arabian
Nights.”
“Alas! I may say with Lucullus, if I could have anticipated the honor of
your visit, I would have prepared for it. But such as is my hermitage, it is at
your disposal; such as is my supper, it is yours to share, if you will. Ali, is the
supper ready?”
At this moment the tapestry moved aside, and a Nubian, black as ebony,
and dressed in a plain white tunic, made a sign to his master that all was
prepared in the dining-room.
“Now,” said the unknown to Franz, “I do not know if you are of my
opinion, but I think nothing is more annoying than to remain two or three
hours together without knowing by name or appellation how to address one
another. Pray observe, that I too much respect the laws of hospitality to ask
your name or title. I only request you to give me one by which I may have the
pleasure of addressing you. As for myself, that I may put you at your ease, I
tell you that I am generally called ‘Sinbad the Sailor.’”
“And I,” replied Franz, “will tell you, as I only require his wonderful lamp
to make me precisely like Aladdin, that I see no reason why at this moment I
should not be called Aladdin. That will keep us from going away from the
East whither I am tempted to think I have been conveyed by some good
genius.”
“Well, then, Signor Aladdin,” replied the singular Amphitryon, “you heard
our repast announced, will you now take the trouble to enter the dining-room,
your humble servant going first to show the way?”
At these words, moving aside the tapestry, Sinbad preceded his guest.
Franz now looked upon another scene of enchantment; the table was
splendidly covered, and once convinced of this important point he cast his
eyes around him. The dining-room was scarcely less striking than the room he
had just left; it was entirely of marble, with antique bas-reliefs of priceless
value; and at the four corners of this apartment, which was oblong, were four
magnificent statues, having baskets in their hands. These baskets contained
four pyramids of most splendid fruit; there were Sicily pine-apples,
pomegranates from Malaga, oranges from the Balearic Isles, peaches from
France, and dates from Tunis. The supper consisted of a roast pheasant
garnished with Corsican blackbirds; a boar’s ham with jelly, a quarter of a kid
with tartar sauce, a glorious turbot, and a gigantic lobster. Between these large
dishes were smaller ones containing various dainties. The dishes were of
silver, and the plates of Japanese china.
Franz rubbed his eyes in order to assure himself that this was not a dream.
Ali alone was present to wait at table, and acquitted himself so admirably, that
the guest complimented his host thereupon.
“Yes,” replied he, while he did the honors of the supper with much ease
and grace—“yes, he is a poor devil who is much devoted to me, and does all
he can to prove it. He remembers that I saved his life, and as he has a regard
for his head, he feels some gratitude towards me for having kept it on his
shoulders.” Ali approached his master, took his hand, and kissed it.
“Would it be impertinent, Signor Sinbad,” said Franz, “to ask you the
particulars of this kindness?”
“Oh, they are simple enough,” replied the host. “It seems the fellow had
been caught wandering nearer to the harem of the Bey of Tunis than etiquette
permits to one of his color, and he was condemned by the Bey to have his
tongue cut out, and his hand and head cut off; the tongue the first day, the hand
the second, and the head the third. I always had a desire to have a mute in my
service, so learning the day his tongue was cut out, I went to the Bey, and
proposed to give him for Ali a splendid double-barreled gun, which I knew he
was very desirous of having. He hesitated a moment, he was so very desirous
to complete the poor devil’s punishment. But when I added to the gun an
English cutlass with which I had shivered his highness’s yataghan to pieces,
the Bey yielded, and agreed to forgive the hand and head, but on condition that
the poor fellow never again set foot in Tunis. This was a useless clause in the
bargain, for whenever the coward sees the first glimpse of the shores of Africa,
he runs down below, and can only be induced to appear again when we are out
of sight of that quarter of the globe.”
Franz remained a moment silent and pensive, hardly knowing what to
think of the half-kindness, half-cruelty, with which his host related the brief
narrative.
“And like the celebrated sailor whose name you have assumed,” he said,
by way of changing the conversation, “you pass your life in travelling?”
“Yes. I made a vow at a time when I little thought I should ever be able to
accomplish it,” said the unknown with a singular smile; “and I made some
others also which I hope I may fulfil in due season.” Although Sinbad
pronounced these words with much calmness, his eyes gave forth gleams of
extraordinary ferocity.
“You have suffered a great deal, sir?” said Franz inquiringly.
Sinbad started and looked fixedly at him, as he replied, “What makes you
suppose so?”
“Everything,” answered Franz,—“your voice, your look, your pallid
complexion, and even the life you lead.”
“I?—I live the happiest life possible, the real life of a pasha. I am king of
all creation. I am pleased with one place, and stay there; I get tired of it, and
leave it; I am free as a bird and have wings like one; my attendants obey my
slightest wish. Sometimes I amuse myself by delivering some bandit or
criminal from the bonds of the law. Then I have my mode of dispensing
justice, silent and sure, without respite or appeal, which condemns or pardons,
and which no one sees. Ah, if you had tasted my life, you would not desire any
other, and would never return to the world unless you had some great project
to accomplish there.”
“Revenge, for instance!” observed Franz.
The unknown fixed on the young man one of those looks which penetrate
into the depth of the heart and thoughts. “And why revenge?” he asked.
“Because,” replied Franz, “you seem to me like a man who, persecuted by
society, has a fearful account to settle with it.”
“Ah!” responded Sinbad, laughing with his singular laugh, which
displayed his white and sharp teeth. “You have not guessed rightly. Such as
you see me I am, a sort of philosopher, and one day perhaps I shall go to Paris
to rival Monsieur Appert, and the little man in the blue cloak.”
“And will that be the first time you ever took that journey?”
“Yes; it will. I must seem to you by no means curious, but I assure you that
it is not my fault I have delayed it so long—it will happen one day or the
other.”
“And do you propose to make this journey very shortly?”
“I do not know; it depends on circumstances which depend on certain
arrangements.”
“I should like to be there at the time you come, and I will endeavor to
repay you, as far as lies in my power, for your liberal hospitality displayed to
me at Monte Cristo.”
“I should avail myself of your offer with pleasure,” replied the host, “but,
unfortunately, if I go there, it will be, in all probability, incognito.”
The supper appeared to have been supplied solely for Franz, for the
unknown scarcely touched one or two dishes of the splendid banquet to which
his guest did ample justice. Then Ali brought on the dessert, or rather took the
baskets from the hands of the statues and placed them on the table. Between
the two baskets he placed a small silver cup with a silver cover. The care with
which Ali placed this cup on the table roused Franz’s curiosity. He raised the
cover and saw a kind of greenish paste, something like preserved angelica, but
which was perfectly unknown to him. He replaced the lid, as ignorant of what
the cup contained as he was before he had looked at it, and then casting his
eyes towards his host he saw him smile at his disappointment.
“You cannot guess,” said he, “what there is in that small vase, can you?”
“No, I really cannot.”
“Well, then, that green preserve is nothing less than the ambrosia which
Hebe served at the table of Jupiter.”
 “But,” replied Franz, “this ambrosia, no doubt, in passing through mortal
hands has lost its heavenly appellation and assumed a human name; in vulgar
phrase, what may you term this composition, for which, to tell the truth, I do
not feel any particular desire?”
“Ah, thus it is that our material origin is revealed,” cried Sinbad; “we
frequently pass so near to happiness without seeing, without regarding it, or if
we do see and regard it, yet without recognizing it. Are you a man for the
substantials, and is gold your god? taste this, and the mines of Peru, Guzerat,
and Golconda are opened to you. Are you a man of imagination—a poet? taste
this, and the boundaries of possibility disappear; the fields of infinite space
open to you, you advance free in heart, free in mind, into the boundless realms
of unfettered reverie. Are you ambitious, and do you seek after the greatnesses
of the earth? taste this, and in an hour you will be a king, not a king of a petty
kingdom hidden in some corner of Europe like France, Spain, or England, but
king of the world, king of the universe, king of creation; without bowing at the
feet of Satan, you will be king and master of all the kingdoms of the earth. Is it
not tempting what I offer you, and is it not an easy thing, since it is only to do
thus? look!”
At these words he uncovered the small cup which contained the substance
so lauded, took a teaspoonful of the magic sweetmeat, raised it to his lips, and
swallowed it slowly with his eyes half shut and his head bent backwards.
Franz did not disturb him whilst he absorbed his favorite sweetmeat, but when
he had finished, he inquired, “What, then, is this precious stuff?”
“Did you ever hear,” he replied, “of the Old Man of the Mountain, who
attempted to assassinate Philippe Auguste?”
“Of course I have.”
“Well, you know he reigned over a rich valley which was overhung by the
mountain whence he derived his picturesque name. In this valley were
magnificent gardens planted by Hassen-ben-Sabah, and in these gardens
isolated pavilions. Into these pavilions he admitted the elect, and there, says
Marco Polo, gave them to eat a certain herb, which transported them to
Paradise, in the midst of ever-blooming shrubs, ever-ripe fruit, and ever-lovely
virgins. What these happy persons took for reality was but a dream; but it was
a dream so soft, so voluptuous, so enthralling, that they sold themselves body
and soul to him who gave it to them, and obedient to his orders as to those of a
deity, struck down the designated victim, died in torture without a murmur,
believing that the death they underwent was but a quick transition to that life
of delights of which the holy herb, now before you, had given them a slight
foretaste.”
“Then,” cried Franz, “it is hashish! I know that—by name at least.”
 “That is it precisely, Signor Aladdin; it is hashish—the purest and most
unadulterated hashish of Alexandria,—the hashish of Abou-Gor, the
celebrated maker, the only man, the man to whom there should be built a
palace, inscribed with these words, A grateful world to the dealer in
happiness.”
“Do you know,” said Franz, “I have a very great inclination to judge for
myself of the truth or exaggeration of your eulogies.”
“Judge for yourself, Signor Aladdin—judge, but do not confine yourself to
one trial. Like everything else, we must habituate the senses to a fresh
impression, gentle or violent, sad or joyous. There is a struggle in nature
against this divine substance,—in nature which is not made for joy and clings
to pain. Nature subdued must yield in the combat, the dream must succeed to
reality, and then the dream reigns supreme, then the dream becomes life, and
life becomes the dream. But what changes occur! It is only by comparing the
pains of actual being with the joys of the assumed existence, that you would
desire to live no longer, but to dream thus forever. When you return to this
mundane sphere from your visionary world, you would seem to leave a
Neapolitan spring for a Lapland winter—to quit paradise for earth—heaven
for hell! Taste the hashish, guest of mine—taste the hashish.”
Franz’s only reply was to take a teaspoonful of the marvellous preparation,
about as much in quantity as his host had eaten, and lift it to his mouth.
“Diable!” he said, after having swallowed the divine preserve. “I do not know
if the result will be as agreeable as you describe, but the thing does not appear
to me as palatable as you say.”
“Because your palate his not yet been attuned to the sublimity of the
substances it flavors. Tell me, the first time you tasted oysters, tea, porter,
truffles, and sundry other dainties which you now adore, did you like them?
Could you comprehend how the Romans stuffed their pheasants with
assafœtida, and the Chinese eat swallows’ nests? Eh? no! Well, it is the same
with hashish; only eat for a week, and nothing in the world will seem to you to
equal the delicacy of its flavor, which now appears to you flat and distasteful.
Let us now go into the adjoining chamber, which is your apartment, and Ali
will bring us coffee and pipes.”
They both arose, and while he who called himself Sinbad—and whom we
have occasionally named so, that we might, like his guest, have some title by
which to distinguish him—gave some orders to the servant, Franz entered still
another apartment.
It was simply yet richly furnished. It was round, and a large divan
completely encircled it. Divan, walls, ceiling, floor, were all covered with
magnificent skins as soft and downy as the richest carpets; there were heavy-
maned lion-skins from Atlas, striped tiger-skins from Bengal; panther-skins
from the Cape, spotted beautifully, like those that appeared to Dante; bear-
skins from Siberia, fox-skins from Norway, and so on; and all these skins were
strewn in profusion one on the other, so that it seemed like walking over the
most mossy turf, or reclining on the most luxurious bed.
Both laid themselves down on the divan; chibouques with jasmine tubes
and amber mouthpieces were within reach, and all prepared so that there was
no need to smoke the same pipe twice. Each of them took one, which Ali
lighted and then retired to prepare the coffee.
There was a moment’s silence, during which Sinbad gave himself up to
thoughts that seemed to occupy him incessantly, even in the midst of his
conversation; and Franz abandoned himself to that mute reverie, into which
we always sink when smoking excellent tobacco, which seems to remove with
its fume all the troubles of the mind, and to give the smoker in exchange all
the visions of the soul. Ali brought in the coffee.
“How do you take it?” inquired the unknown; “in the French or Turkish
style, strong or weak, sugar or none, cool or boiling? As you please; it is ready
in all ways.”
“I will take it in the Turkish style,” replied Franz.
“And you are right,” said his host; “it shows you have a tendency for an
Oriental life. Ah, those Orientals; they are the only men who know how to
live. As for me,” he added, with one of those singular smiles which did not
escape the young man, “when I have completed my affairs in Paris, I shall go
and die in the East; and should you wish to see me again, you must seek me at
Cairo, Bagdad, or Ispahan.”
“Ma foi,” said Franz, “it would be the easiest thing in the world; for I feel
eagle’s wings springing out at my shoulders, and with those wings I could
make a tour of the world in four and twenty hours.”
“Ah, yes, the hashish is beginning its work. Well, unfurl your wings, and
fly into superhuman regions; fear nothing, there is a watch over you; and if
your wings, like those of Icarus, melt before the sun, we are here to ease your
fall.” He then said something in Arabic to Ali, who made a sign of obedience
and withdrew, but not to any distance.
As to Franz a strange transformation had taken place in him. All the bodily
fatigue of the day, all the preoccupation of mind which the events of the
evening had brought on, disappeared as they do at the first approach of sleep,
when we are still sufficiently conscious to be aware of the coming of slumber.
His body seemed to acquire an airy lightness, his perception brightened in a
remarkable manner, his senses seemed to redouble their power, the horizon
continued to expand; but it was not the gloomy horizon of vague alarms, and
which he had seen before he slept, but a blue, transparent, unbounded horizon,
with all the blue of the ocean, all the spangles of the sun, all the perfumes of
the summer breeze; then, in the midst of the songs of his sailors,—songs so
clear and sonorous, that they would have made a divine harmony had their
notes been taken down,—he saw the Island of Monte Cristo, no longer as a
threatening rock in the midst of the waves, but as an oasis in the desert; then,
as his boat drew nearer, the songs became louder, for an enchanting and
mysterious harmony rose to heaven, as if some Loreley had decreed to attract
a soul thither, or Amphion, the enchanter, intended there to build a city.
At length the boat touched the shore, but without effort, without shock, as
lips touch lips; and he entered the grotto amidst continued strains of most
delicious melody. He descended, or rather seemed to descend, several steps,
inhaling the fresh and balmy air, like that which may be supposed to reign
around the grotto of Circe, formed from such perfumes as set the mind a-
dreaming, and such fires as burn the very senses; and he saw again all he had
seen before his sleep, from Sinbad, his singular host, to Ali, the mute
attendant; then all seemed to fade away and become confused before his eyes,
like the last shadows of the magic lantern before it is extinguished, and he was
again in the chamber of statues, lighted only by one of those pale and antique
lamps which watch in the dead of the night over the sleep of pleasure.
They were the same statues, rich in form, in attraction, and poesy, with
eyes of fascination, smiles of love, and bright and flowing hair. They were
Phryne, Cleopatra, Messalina, those three celebrated courtesans. Then among
them glided like a pure ray, like a Christian angel in the midst of Olympus,
one of those chaste figures, those calm shadows, those soft visions, which
seemed to veil its virgin brow before these marble wantons.
Then the three statues advanced towards him with looks of love, and
approached the couch on which he was reposing, their feet hidden in their long
white tunics, their throats bare, hair flowing like waves, and assuming
attitudes which the gods could not resist, but which saints withstood, and looks
inflexible and ardent like those with which the serpent charms the bird; and
then he gave way before looks that held him in a torturing grasp and delighted
his senses as with a voluptuous kiss.
It seemed to Franz that he closed his eyes, and in a last look about him saw
the vision of modesty completely veiled; and then followed a dream of passion
like that promised by the Prophet to the elect. Lips of stone turned to flame,
breasts of ice became like heated lava, so that to Franz, yielding for the first
time to the sway of the drug, love was a sorrow and voluptuousness a torture,
as burning mouths were pressed to his thirsty lips, and he was held in cool
serpent-like embraces. The more he strove against this unhallowed passion the
more his senses yielded to its thrall, and at length, weary of a struggle that
taxed his very soul, he gave way and sank back breathless and exhausted
beneath the kisses of these marble goddesses, and the enchantment of his
marvellous dream.

Chapter 32.
The Waking

When Franz returned to himself, he seemed still to be in a dream. He

thought himself in a sepulchre, into which a ray of sunlight in pity scarcely
penetrated. He stretched forth his hand, and touched stone; he rose to his seat,
and found himself lying on his bournous in a bed of dry heather, very soft and
odoriferous. The vision had fled; and as if the statues had been but shadows
from the tomb, they had vanished at his waking.
He advanced several paces towards the point whence the light came, and to
all the excitement of his dream succeeded the calmness of reality. He found
that he was in a grotto, went towards the opening, and through a kind of
fanlight saw a blue sea and an azure sky. The air and water were shining in the
beams of the morning sun; on the shore the sailors were sitting, chatting and
laughing; and at ten yards from them the boat was at anchor, undulating
gracefully on the water.
There for some time he enjoyed the fresh breeze which played on his brow,
and listened to the dash of the waves on the beach, that left against the rocks a
lace of foam as white as silver. He was for some time without reflection or
thought for the divine charm which is in the things of nature, specially after a
fantastic dream; then gradually this view of the outer world, so calm, so pure,
so grand, reminded him of the illusiveness of his vision, and once more
awakened memory. He recalled his arrival on the island, his presentation to a
smuggler chief, a subterranean palace full of splendor, an excellent supper, and
a spoonful of hashish.
It seemed, however, even in the very face of open day, that at least a year
had elapsed since all these things had passed, so deep was the impression
made in his mind by the dream, and so strong a hold had it taken of his
imagination. Thus every now and then he saw in fancy amid the sailors, seated
on a rock, or undulating in the vessel, one of the shadows which had shared
his dream with looks and kisses. Otherwise, his head was perfectly clear, and
his body refreshed; he was free from the slightest headache; on the contrary,
he felt a certain degree of lightness, a faculty for absorbing the pure air, and
enjoying the bright sunshine more vividly than ever.
He went gayly up to the sailors, who rose as soon as they perceived him;
and the patron, accosting him, said, “The Signor Sinbad has left his
compliments for your excellency, and desires us to express the regret he feels
at not being able to take his leave in person; but he trusts you will excuse him,
as very important business calls him to Malaga.”
“So, then, Gaetano,” said Franz, “this is, then, all reality; there exists a man
who has received me in this island, entertained me right royally, and has
departed while I was asleep?”
“He exists as certainly as that you may see his small yacht with all her sails
spread; and if you will use your glass, you will, in all probability, recognize
your host in the midst of his crew.”
So saying, Gaetano pointed in a direction in which a small vessel was
making sail towards the southern point of Corsica. Franz adjusted his
telescope, and directed it towards the yacht. Gaetano was not mistaken. At the
stern the mysterious stranger was standing up looking towards the shore, and
holding a spy-glass in his hand. He was attired as he had been on the previous
evening, and waved his pocket-handkerchief to his guest in token of adieu.
Franz returned the salute by shaking his handkerchief as an exchange of
signals. After a second, a slight cloud of smoke was seen at the stern of the
vessel, which rose gracefully as it expanded in the air, and then Franz heard a
slight report.
“There, do you hear?” observed Gaetano; “he is bidding you adieu.”
The young man took his carbine and fired it in the air, but without any idea
that the noise could be heard at the distance which separated the yacht from
the shore.
“What are your excellency’s orders?” inquired Gaetano.
“In the first place, light me a torch.”
“Ah, yes, I understand,” replied the patron, “to find the entrance to the
enchanted apartment. With much pleasure, your excellency, if it would amuse
you; and I will get you the torch you ask for. But I too have had the idea you
have, and two or three times the same fancy has come over me; but I have
always given it up. Giovanni, light a torch,” he added, “and give it to his
excellency.”
Giovanni obeyed. Franz took the lamp, and entered the subterranean
grotto, followed by Gaetano. He recognized the place where he had awaked by
the bed of heather that was there; but it was in vain that he carried his torch all
round the exterior surface of the grotto. He saw nothing, unless that, by traces
of smoke, others had before him attempted the same thing, and, like him, in
vain. Yet he did not leave a foot of this granite wall, as impenetrable as
futurity, without strict scrutiny; he did not see a fissure without introducing the
blade of his hunting sword into it, or a projecting point on which he did not
lean and press in the hopes it would give way. All was vain; and he lost two
hours in his attempts, which were at last utterly useless. At the end of this time
he gave up his search, and Gaetano smiled.
When Franz appeared again on the shore, the yacht only seemed like a
small white speck on the horizon. He looked again through his glass, but even
then he could not distinguish anything.
Gaetano reminded him that he had come for the purpose of shooting goats,
which he had utterly forgotten. He took his fowling-piece, and began to hunt
over the island with the air of a man who is fulfilling a duty, rather than
enjoying a pleasure; and at the end of a quarter of an hour he had killed a goat
and two kids. These animals, though wild and agile as chamois, were too
much like domestic goats, and Franz could not consider them as game.
Moreover, other ideas, much more enthralling, occupied his mind. Since, the
evening before, he had really been the hero of one of the tales of the Thousand
and One Nights, and he was irresistibly attracted towards the grotto.
Then, in spite of the failure of his first search, he began a second, after
having told Gaetano to roast one of the two kids. The second visit was a long
one, and when he returned the kid was roasted and the repast ready. Franz was
sitting on the spot where he was on the previous evening when his mysterious
host had invited him to supper; and he saw the little yacht, now like a sea-gull
on the wave, continuing her flight towards Corsica.
“Why,” he remarked to Gaetano, “you told me that Signor Sinbad was
going to Malaga, while it seems he is in the direction of Porto-Vecchio.”
“Don’t you remember,” said the patron, “I told you that among the crew
there were two Corsican brigands?”
“True; and he is going to land them,” added Franz.
“Precisely so,” replied Gaetano. “Ah, he is one who fears neither God nor
Satan, they say, and would at any time run fifty leagues out of his course to do
a poor devil a service.”
“But such services as these might involve him with the authorities of the
country in which he practices this kind of philanthropy,” said Franz.
“And what cares he for that,” replied Gaetano with a laugh, “or any
authorities? He smiles at them. Let them try to pursue him! Why, in the first
place, his yacht is not a ship, but a bird, and he would beat any frigate three
knots in every nine; and if he were to throw himself on the coast, why, is he
not certain of finding friends everywhere?”
It was perfectly clear that the Signor Sinbad, Franz’s host, had the honor of
being on excellent terms with the smugglers and bandits along the whole coast
of the Mediterranean, and so enjoyed exceptional privileges. As to Franz, he
had no longer any inducement to remain at Monte Cristo. He had lost all hope
of detecting the secret of the grotto; he consequently despatched his breakfast,
and, his boat being ready, he hastened on board, and they were soon under
way. At the moment the boat began her course they lost sight of the yacht, as it
disappeared in the gulf of Porto-Vecchio. With it was effaced the last trace of
the preceding night; and then supper, Sinbad, hashish, statues,—all became a
dream for Franz. The boat sailed on all day and all night, and next morning,
when the sun rose, they had lost sight of Monte Cristo. When Franz had once
again set foot on shore, he forgot, for the moment at least, the events which
had just passed, while he finished his affairs of pleasure at Florence, and then
thought of nothing but how he should rejoin his companion, who was awaiting
him at Rome.
He set out, and on the Saturday evening reached the Place de la Douane by
the mail-coach. An apartment, as we have said, had been retained beforehand,
and thus he had but to go to Signor Pastrini’s hotel. But this was not so easy a
matter, for the streets were thronged with people, and Rome was already a
prey to that low and feverish murmur which precedes all great events; and at
Rome there are four great events in every year,—the Carnival, Holy Week,
Corpus Christi, and the Feast of St. Peter. All the rest of the year the city is in
that state of dull apathy, between life and death, which renders it similar to a
kind of station between this world and the next—a sublime spot, a resting-
place full of poetry and character, and at which Franz had already halted five
or six times, and at each time found it more marvellous and striking.
At last he made his way through the mob, which was continually
increasing and getting more and more turbulent, and reached the hotel. On his
first inquiry he was told, with the impertinence peculiar to hired hackney-
coachmen and innkeepers with their houses full, that there was no room for
him at the Hôtel de Londres. Then he sent his card to Signor Pastrini, and
asked for Albert de Morcerf. This plan succeeded; and Signor Pastrini himself
ran to him, excusing himself for having made his excellency wait, scolding the
waiters, taking the candlestick from the porter, who was ready to pounce on
the traveller and was about to lead him to Albert, when Morcerf himself
appeared.
The apartment consisted of two small rooms and a parlor. The two rooms
looked onto the street—a fact which Signor Pastrini commented upon as an
inappreciable advantage. The rest of the floor was hired by a very rich
gentleman who was supposed to be a Sicilian or Maltese; but the host was
unable to decide to which of the two nations the traveller belonged. “Very
good, signor Pastrini,” said Franz; “but we must have some supper instantly,
and a carriage for tomorrow and the following days.”
“As to supper,” replied the landlord, “you shall be served immediately; but
as for the carriage——”
“What as to the carriage?” exclaimed Albert. “Come, come, Signor
Pastrini, no joking; we must have a carriage.”
“Sir,” replied the host, “we will do all in our power to procure you one—
this is all I can say.”
“And when shall we know?” inquired Franz.
“Tomorrow morning,” answered the innkeeper.
“Oh, the deuce! then we shall pay the more, that’s all, I see plainly enough.
At Drake’s or Aaron’s one pays twenty-five lire for common days, and thirty
or thirty-five lire a day more for Sundays and feast days; add five lire a day
more for extras, that will make forty, and there’s an end of it.”
“I am afraid if we offer them double that we shall not procure a carriage.”
“Then they must put horses to mine. It is a little worse for the journey, but
that’s no matter.”
“There are no horses.” Albert looked at Franz like a man who hears a reply
he does not understand.
“Do you understand that, my dear Franz—no horses?” he said, “but can’t
we have post-horses?”
“They have been all hired this fortnight, and there are none left but those
absolutely requisite for posting.”
“What are we to say to this?” asked Franz.
“I say, that when a thing completely surpasses my comprehension, I am
accustomed not to dwell on that thing, but to pass to another. Is supper ready,
Signor Pastrini?”
“Yes, your excellency.”
“Well, then, let us sup.”
“But the carriage and horses?” said Franz.
“Be easy, my dear boy; they will come in due season; it is only a question
of how much shall be charged for them.” Morcerf then, with that delighted
philosophy which believes that nothing is impossible to a full purse or well-
lined pocketbook, supped, went to bed, slept soundly, and dreamed he was
racing all over Rome at Carnival time in a coach with six horses.

Chapter 33.
Roman Bandits

The next morning Franz woke first, and instantly rang the bell. The sound
had not yet died away when Signor Pastrini himself entered.
“Well, excellency,” said the landlord triumphantly, and without waiting for
Franz to question him, “I feared yesterday, when I would not promise you
anything, that you were too late—there is not a single carriage to be had—that
is, for the last three days of the carnival.”
“Yes,” returned Franz, “for the very three days it is most needed.”
“What is the matter?” said Albert, entering; “no carriage to be had?”
“Just so,” returned Franz, “you have guessed it.”
“Well, your Eternal City is a nice sort of place.”
“That is to say, excellency,” replied Pastrini, who was desirous of keeping
up the dignity of the capital of the Christian world in the eyes of his guest,
“that there are no carriages to be had from Sunday to Tuesday evening, but
from now till Sunday you can have fifty if you please.”
“Ah, that is something,” said Albert; “today is Thursday, and who knows
what may arrive between this and Sunday?”
“Ten or twelve thousand travellers will arrive,” replied Franz, “which will
make it still more difficult.”
“My friend,” said Morcerf, “let us enjoy the present without gloomy
forebodings for the future.”
“At least we can have a window?”
“Where?”
“In the Corso.”
“Ah, a window!” exclaimed Signor Pastrini,—“utterly impossible; there
was only one left on the fifth floor of the Doria Palace, and that has been let to
a Russian prince for twenty sequins a day.”
The two young men looked at each other with an air of stupefaction.
 “Well,” said Franz to Albert, “do you know what is the best thing we can
do? It is to pass the Carnival at Venice; there we are sure of obtaining
gondolas if we cannot have carriages.”
“Ah, the devil, no,” cried Albert; “I came to Rome to see the Carnival, and
I will, though I see it on stilts.”
“Bravo! an excellent idea. We will disguise ourselves as monster
pulchinellos or shepherds of the Landes, and we shall have complete success.”
“Do your excellencies still wish for a carriage from now to Sunday
morning?”
“Parbleu!” said Albert, “do you think we are going to run about on foot in
the streets of Rome, like lawyers’ clerks?”
“I hasten to comply with your excellencies’ wishes; only, I tell you
beforehand, the carriage will cost you six piastres a day.”
“And, as I am not a millionaire, like the gentleman in the next apartments,”
said Franz, “I warn you, that as I have been four times before at Rome, I know
the prices of all the carriages; we will give you twelve piastres for today,
tomorrow, and the day after, and then you will make a good profit.”
“But, excellency”—said Pastrini, still striving to gain his point.
“Now go,” returned Franz, “or I shall go myself and bargain with your
affettatore, who is mine also; he is an old friend of mine, who has plundered
me pretty well already, and, in the hope of making more out of me, he will
take a less price than the one I offer you; you will lose the preference, and that
will be your fault.”
“Do not give yourselves the trouble, excellency,” returned Signor Pastrini,
with the smile peculiar to the Italian speculator when he confesses defeat; “I
will do all I can, and I hope you will be satisfied.”
“And now we understand each other.”
“When do you wish the carriage to be here?”
“In an hour.”
“In an hour it will be at the door.”
An hour after the vehicle was at the door; it was a hack conveyance which
was elevated to the rank of a private carriage in honor of the occasion, but, in
spite of its humble exterior, the young men would have thought themselves
happy to have secured it for the last three days of the Carnival. “Excellency,”
cried the cicerone, seeing Franz approach the window, “shall I bring the
carriage nearer to the palace?”
 Accustomed as Franz was to the Italian phraseology, his first impulse was
to look round him, but these words were addressed to him. Franz was the
“excellency,” the vehicle was the “carriage,” and the Hôtel de Londres was the
“palace.” The genius for laudation characteristic of the race was in that phrase.
Franz and Albert descended, the carriage approached the palace; their
excellencies stretched their legs along the seats; the cicerone sprang into the
seat behind. “Where do your excellencies wish to go?” asked he.
“To Saint Peter’s first, and then to the Colosseum,” returned Albert. But
Albert did not know that it takes a day to see Saint Peter’s, and a month to
study it. The day was passed at Saint Peter’s alone. Suddenly the daylight
began to fade away; Franz took out his watch—it was half-past four. They
returned to the hotel; at the door Franz ordered the coachman to be ready at
eight. He wished to show Albert the Colosseum by moonlight, as he had
shown him Saint Peter’s by daylight. When we show a friend a city one has
already visited, we feel the same pride as when we point out a woman whose
lover we have been.
He was to leave the city by the Porta del Popolo, skirt the outer wall, and
re-enter by the Porta San Giovanni; thus they would behold the Colosseum
without finding their impressions dulled by first looking on the Capitol, the
Forum, the Arch of Septimus Severus, the Temple of Antoninus and Faustina,
and the Via Sacra.
They sat down to dinner. Signor Pastrini had promised them a banquet; he
gave them a tolerable repast. At the end of the dinner he entered in person.
Franz thought that he came to hear his dinner praised, and began accordingly,
but at the first words he was interrupted. “Excellency,” said Pastrini, “I am
delighted to have your approbation, but it was not for that I came.”
“Did you come to tell us you have procured a carriage?” asked Albert,
lighting his cigar.
“No; and your excellencies will do well not to think of that any longer; at
Rome things can or cannot be done; when you are told anything cannot be
done, there is an end of it.”
“It is much more convenient at Paris,—when anything cannot be done, you
pay double, and it is done directly.”
“That is what all the French say,” returned Signor Pastrini, somewhat
piqued; “for that reason, I do not understand why they travel.”
“But,” said Albert, emitting a volume of smoke and balancing his chair on
its hind legs, “only madmen, or blockheads like us, ever do travel. Men in
their senses do not quit their hotel in the Rue du Helder, their walk on the
Boulevard de Gand, and the Café de Paris.”
It is of course understood that Albert resided in the aforesaid street,
appeared every day on the fashionable walk, and dined frequently at the only
restaurant where you can really dine, that is, if you are on good terms with its
waiters.
Signor Pastrini remained silent a short time; it was evident that he was
musing over this answer, which did not seem very clear. “But,” said Franz, in
his turn interrupting his host’s meditations, “you had some motive for coming
here, may I beg to know what it was?”
“Ah, yes; you have ordered your carriage at eight o’clock precisely?”
“I have.”
“You intend visiting Il Colosseo.”
“You mean the Colosseum?”
“It is the same thing. You have told your coachman to leave the city by the
Porta del Popolo, to drive round the walls, and re-enter by the Porta San
Giovanni?”
“These are my words exactly.”
“Well, this route is impossible.”
“Impossible!”
“Very dangerous, to say the least.”
“Dangerous!—and why?”
“On account of the famous Luigi Vampa.”
“Pray, who may this famous Luigi Vampa be?” inquired Albert; “he may
be very famous at Rome, but I can assure you he is quite unknown at Paris.”
“What! do you not know him?”
“I have not that honor.”
“You have never heard his name?”
“Never.”
“Well, then, he is a bandit, compared to whom the Decesaris and the
Gasparones were mere children.”
“Now then, Albert,” cried Franz, “here is a bandit for you at last.”
“I forewarn you, Signor Pastrini, that I shall not believe one word of what
you are going to tell us; having told you this, begin. ‘Once upon a time——’
Well, go on.”
Signor Pastrini turned toward Franz, who seemed to him the more
reasonable of the two; we must do him justice,—he had had a great many
Frenchmen in his house, but had never been able to comprehend them.
“Excellency,” said he gravely, addressing Franz, “if you look upon me as a
liar, it is useless for me to say anything; it was for your interest I——”
“Albert does not say you are a liar, Signor Pastrini,” said Franz, “but that
he will not believe what you are going to tell us,—but I will believe all you
say; so proceed.”
“But if your excellency doubt my veracity——”
“Signor Pastrini,” returned Franz, “you are more susceptible than
Cassandra, who was a prophetess, and yet no one believed her; while you, at
least, are sure of the credence of half your audience. Come, sit down, and tell
us all about this Signor Vampa.”
“I had told your excellency he is the most famous bandit we have had since
the days of Mastrilla.”
“Well, what has this bandit to do with the order I have given the coachman
to leave the city by the Porta del Popolo, and to re-enter by the Porta San
Giovanni?”
“This,” replied Signor Pastrini, “that you will go out by one, but I very
much doubt your returning by the other.”
“Why?” asked Franz.
“Because, after nightfall, you are not safe fifty yards from the gates.”
“On your honor is that true?” cried Albert.
“Count,” returned Signor Pastrini, hurt at Albert’s repeated doubts of the
truth of his assertions, “I do not say this to you, but to your companion, who
knows Rome, and knows, too, that these things are not to be laughed at.”
“My dear fellow,” said Albert, turning to Franz, “here is an admirable
adventure; we will fill our carriage with pistols, blunderbusses, and double-
barrelled guns. Luigi Vampa comes to take us, and we take him—we bring
him back to Rome, and present him to his holiness the Pope, who asks how he
can repay so great a service; then we merely ask for a carriage and a pair of
horses, and we see the Carnival in the carriage, and doubtless the Roman
people will crown us at the Capitol, and proclaim us, like Curtius and Horatius
Cocles, the preservers of their country.”
Whilst Albert proposed this scheme, Signor Pastrini’s face assumed an
expression impossible to describe.
 “And pray,” asked Franz, “where are these pistols, blunderbusses, and
other deadly weapons with which you intend filling the carriage?”
“Not out of my armory, for at Terracina I was plundered even of my
hunting-knife. And you?”
“I shared the same fate at Aquapendente.”
“Do you know, Signor Pastrini,” said Albert, lighting a second cigar at the
first, “that this practice is very convenient for bandits, and that it seems to be
due to an arrangement of their own.” Doubtless Signor Pastrini found this
pleasantry compromising, for he only answered half the question, and then he
spoke to Franz, as the only one likely to listen with attention. “Your excellency
knows that it is not customary to defend yourself when attacked by bandits.”
“What!” cried Albert, whose courage revolted at the idea of being
plundered tamely, “not make any resistance!”
“No, for it would be useless. What could you do against a dozen bandits
who spring out of some pit, ruin, or aqueduct, and level their pieces at you?”
“Eh, parbleu!—they should kill me.”
The innkeeper turned to Franz with an air that seemed to say, “Your friend
is decidedly mad.”
“My dear Albert,” returned Franz, “your answer is sublime, and worthy the
‘Let him die,’ of Corneille, only, when Horace made that answer, the safety of
Rome was concerned; but, as for us, it is only to gratify a whim, and it would
be ridiculous to risk our lives for so foolish a motive.” Albert poured himself
out a glass of lacryma Christi, which he sipped at intervals, muttering some
unintelligible words.
“Well, Signor Pastrini,” said Franz, “now that my companion is quieted,
and you have seen how peaceful my intentions are, tell me who is this Luigi
Vampa. Is he a shepherd or a nobleman?—young or old?—tall or short?
Describe him, in order that, if we meet him by chance, like Jean Sbogar or
Lara, we may recognize him.”
“You could not apply to anyone better able to inform you on all these
points, for I knew him when he was a child, and one day that I fell into his
hands, going from Ferentino to Alatri, he, fortunately for me, recollected me,
and set me free, not only without ransom, but made me a present of a very
splendid watch, and related his history to me.”
“Let us see the watch,” said Albert.
Signor Pastrini drew from his fob a magnificent Bréguet, bearing the name
of its maker, of Parisian manufacture, and a count’s coronet.
 “Here it is,” said he.
“Peste!” returned Albert, “I compliment you on it; I have its fellow”—he
took his watch from his waistcoat pocket—“and it cost me 3,000 francs.”
“Let us hear the history,” said Franz, motioning Signor Pastrini to seat
himself.
“Your excellencies permit it?” asked the host.
“Pardieu!” cried Albert, “you are not a preacher, to remain standing!”
The host sat down, after having made each of them a respectful bow, which
meant that he was ready to tell them all they wished to know concerning Luigi
Vampa. “You tell me,” said Franz, at the moment Signor Pastrini was about to
open his mouth, “that you knew Luigi Vampa when he was a child—he is still
a young man, then?”
“A young man? he is only two and twenty;—he will gain himself a
reputation.”
“What do you think of that, Albert?—at two and twenty to be thus
famous?”
“Yes, and at his age, Alexander, Cæsar, and Napoleon, who have all made
some noise in the world, were quite behind him.”
“So,” continued Franz, “the hero of this history is only two and twenty?”
“Scarcely so much.”
“Is he tall or short?”
“Of the middle height—about the same stature as his excellency,” returned
the host, pointing to Albert.
“Thanks for the comparison,” said Albert, with a bow.
“Go on, Signor Pastrini,” continued Franz, smiling at his friend’s
susceptibility. “To what class of society does he belong?”
“He was a shepherd-boy attached to the farm of the Count of San-Felice,
situated between Palestrina and the Lake of Gabri; he was born at Pampinara,
and entered the count’s service when he was five years old; his father was also
a shepherd, who owned a small flock, and lived by the wool and the milk,
which he sold at Rome. When quite a child, the little Vampa displayed a most
extraordinary precocity. One day, when he was seven years old, he came to the
curate of Palestrina, and asked to be taught to read; it was somewhat difficult,
for he could not quit his flock; but the good curate went every day to say mass
at a little hamlet too poor to pay a priest and which, having no other name, was
called Borgo; he told Luigi that he might meet him on his return, and that then
he would give him a lesson, warning him that it would be short, and that he
must profit as much as possible by it. The child accepted joyfully. Every day
Luigi led his flock to graze on the road that leads from Palestrina to Borgo;
every day, at nine o’clock in the morning, the priest and the boy sat down on a
bank by the wayside, and the little shepherd took his lesson out of the priest’s
breviary. At the end of three months he had learned to read. This was not
enough—he must now learn to write. The priest had a writing teacher at Rome
make three alphabets—one large, one middling, and one small; and pointed
out to him that by the help of a sharp instrument he could trace the letters on a
slate, and thus learn to write. The same evening, when the flock was safe at the
farm, the little Luigi hastened to the smith at Palestrina, took a large nail,
heated and sharpened it, and formed a sort of stylus. The next morning he
gathered an armful of pieces of slate and began. At the end of three months he
had learned to write. The curate, astonished at his quickness and intelligence,
made him a present of pens, paper, and a penknife. This demanded new effort,
but nothing compared to the first; at the end of a week he wrote as well with
this pen as with the stylus. The curate related the incident to the Count of San-
Felice, who sent for the little shepherd, made him read and write before him,
ordered his attendant to let him eat with the domestics, and to give him two
piastres a month. With this, Luigi purchased books and pencils. He applied his
imitative powers to everything, and, like Giotto, when young, he drew on his
slate sheep, houses, and trees. Then, with his knife, he began to carve all sorts
of objects in wood; it was thus that Pinelli, the famous sculptor, had
commenced.
“A girl of six or seven—that is, a little younger than Vampa—tended sheep
on a farm near Palestrina; she was an orphan, born at Valmontone and was
named Teresa. The two children met, sat down near each other, let their flocks
mingle together, played, laughed, and conversed together; in the evening they
separated the Count of San-Felice’s flock from those of Baron Cervetri, and
the children returned to their respective farms, promising to meet the next
morning. The next day they kept their word, and thus they grew up together.
Vampa was twelve, and Teresa eleven. And yet their natural disposition
revealed itself. Beside his taste for the fine arts, which Luigi had carried as far
as he could in his solitude, he was given to alternating fits of sadness and
enthusiasm, was often angry and capricious, and always sarcastic. None of the
lads of Pampinara, Palestrina, or Valmontone had been able to gain any
influence over him or even to become his companion. His disposition (always
inclined to exact concessions rather than to make them) kept him aloof from
all friendships. Teresa alone ruled by a look, a word, a gesture, this impetuous
character, which yielded beneath the hand of a woman, and which beneath the
hand of a man might have broken, but could never have been bended. Teresa
was lively and gay, but coquettish to excess. The two piastres that Luigi
received every month from the Count of San-Felice’s steward, and the price of
all the little carvings in wood he sold at Rome, were expended in ear-rings,
necklaces, and gold hairpins. So that, thanks to her friend’s generosity, Teresa
was the most beautiful and the best-attired peasant near Rome. The two
children grew up together, passing all their time with each other, and giving
themselves up to the wild ideas of their different characters. Thus, in all their
dreams, their wishes, and their conversations, Vampa saw himself the captain
of a vessel, general of an army, or governor of a province. Teresa saw herself
rich, superbly attired, and attended by a train of liveried domestics. Then,
when they had thus passed the day in building castles in the air, they separated
their flocks, and descended from the elevation of their dreams to the reality of
their humble position.
“One day the young shepherd told the count’s steward that he had seen a
wolf come out of the Sabine mountains, and prowl around his flock. The
steward gave him a gun; this was what Vampa longed for. This gun had an
excellent barrel, made at Brescia, and carrying a ball with the precision of an
English rifle; but one day the count broke the stock, and had then cast the gun
aside. This, however, was nothing to a sculptor like Vampa; he examined the
broken stock, calculated what change it would require to adapt the gun to his
shoulder, and made a fresh stock, so beautifully carved that it would have
fetched fifteen or twenty piastres, had he chosen to sell it. But nothing could
be farther from his thoughts.
“For a long time a gun had been the young man’s greatest ambition. In
every country where independence has taken the place of liberty, the first
desire of a manly heart is to possess a weapon, which at once renders him
capable of defence or attack, and, by rendering its owner terrible, often makes
him feared. From this moment Vampa devoted all his leisure time to perfecting
himself in the use of his precious weapon; he purchased powder and ball, and
everything served him for a mark—the trunk of some old and moss-grown
olivetree, that grew on the Sabine mountains; the fox, as he quitted his earth
on some marauding excursion; the eagle that soared above their heads: and
thus he soon became so expert, that Teresa overcame the terror she at first felt
at the report, and amused herself by watching him direct the ball wherever he
pleased, with as much accuracy as if he placed it by hand.
“One evening a wolf emerged from a pine-wood near which they were
usually stationed, but the wolf had scarcely advanced ten yards ere he was
dead. Proud of this exploit, Vampa took the dead animal on his shoulders, and
carried him to the farm. These exploits had gained Luigi considerable
reputation. The man of superior abilities always finds admirers, go where he
will. He was spoken of as the most adroit, the strongest, and the most
courageous contadino for ten leagues around; and although Teresa was
universally allowed to be the most beautiful girl of the Sabines, no one had
ever spoken to her of love, because it was known that she was beloved by
Vampa. And yet the two young people had never declared their affection; they
had grown together like two trees whose roots are mingled, whose branches
intertwined, and whose intermingled perfume rises to the heavens. Only their
wish to see each other had become a necessity, and they would have preferred
death to a day’s separation.
“Teresa was sixteen, and Vampa seventeen. About this time, a band of
brigands that had established itself in the Lepini mountains began to be much
spoken of. The brigands have never been really extirpated from the
neighborhood of Rome. Sometimes a chief is wanted, but when a chief
presents himself he rarely has to wait long for a band of followers.
“The celebrated Cucumetto, pursued in the Abruzzo, driven out of the
kingdom of Naples, where he had carried on a regular war, had crossed the
Garigliano, like Manfred, and had taken refuge on the banks of the Amasine
between Sonnino and Juperno. He strove to collect a band of followers, and
followed the footsteps of Decesaris and Gasparone, whom he hoped to
surpass. Many young men of Palestrina, Frascati, and Pampinara had
disappeared. Their disappearance at first caused much disquietude; but it was
soon known that they had joined Cucumetto. After some time Cucumetto
became the object of universal attention; the most extraordinary traits of
ferocious daring and brutality were related of him.
“One day he carried off a young girl, the daughter of a surveyor of
Frosinone. The bandit’s laws are positive; a young girl belongs first to him
who carries her off, then the rest draw lots for her, and she is abandoned to
their brutality until death relieves her sufferings. When their parents are
sufficiently rich to pay a ransom, a messenger is sent to negotiate; the prisoner
is hostage for the security of the messenger; should the ransom be refused, the
prisoner is irrevocably lost. The young girl’s lover was in Cucumetto’s troop;
his name was Carlini. When she recognized her lover, the poor girl extended
her arms to him, and believed herself safe; but Carlini felt his heart sink, for he
but too well knew the fate that awaited her. However, as he was a favorite with
Cucumetto, as he had for three years faithfully served him, and as he had
saved his life by shooting a dragoon who was about to cut him down, he hoped
the chief would have pity on him. He took Cucumetto one side, while the
young girl, seated at the foot of a huge pine that stood in the centre of the
forest, made a veil of her picturesque head-dress to hide her face from the
lascivious gaze of the bandits. There he told the chief all—his affection for the
prisoner, their promises of mutual fidelity, and how every night, since he had
been near, they had met in some neighboring ruins.
“It so happened that night that Cucumetto had sent Carlini to a village, so
that he had been unable to go to the place of meeting. Cucumetto had been
there, however, by accident, as he said, and had carried the maiden off. Carlini
besought his chief to make an exception in Rita’s favor, as her father was rich,
and could pay a large ransom. Cucumetto seemed to yield to his friend’s
entreaties, and bade him find a shepherd to send to Rita’s father at Frosinone.
“Carlini flew joyfully to Rita, telling her she was saved, and bidding her
write to her father, to inform him what had occurred, and that her ransom was
fixed at three hundred piastres. Twelve hours’ delay was all that was granted—
that is, until nine the next morning. The instant the letter was written, Carlini
seized it, and hastened to the plain to find a messenger. He found a young
shepherd watching his flock. The natural messengers of the bandits are the
shepherds who live between the city and the mountains, between civilized and
savage life. The boy undertook the commission, promising to be in Frosinone
in less than an hour. Carlini returned, anxious to see his mistress, and
announce the joyful intelligence. He found the troop in the glade, supping off
the provisions exacted as contributions from the peasants; but his eye vainly
sought Rita and Cucumetto among them.
“He inquired where they were, and was answered by a burst of laughter. A
cold perspiration burst from every pore, and his hair stood on end. He repeated
his question. One of the bandits rose, and offered him a glass filled with
Orvietto, saying, ‘To the health of the brave Cucumetto and the fair Rita.’ At
this moment Carlini heard a woman’s cry; he divined the truth, seized the
glass, broke it across the face of him who presented it, and rushed towards the
spot whence the cry came. After a hundred yards he turned the corner of the
thicket; he found Rita senseless in the arms of Cucumetto. At the sight of
Carlini, Cucumetto rose, a pistol in each hand. The two brigands looked at
each other for a moment—the one with a smile of lasciviousness on his lips,
the other with the pallor of death on his brow. A terrible battle between the two
men seemed imminent; but by degrees Carlini’s features relaxed, his hand,
which had grasped one of the pistols in his belt, fell to his side. Rita lay
between them. The moon lighted the group.
“‘Well,’ said Cucumetto, ‘have you executed your commission?’
“‘Yes, captain,’ returned Carlini. ‘At nine o’clock tomorrow Rita’s father
will be here with the money.’—‘It is well; in the meantime, we will have a
merry night; this young girl is charming, and does credit to your taste. Now, as
I am not egotistical, we will return to our comrades and draw lots for
her.’—‘You have determined, then, to abandon her to the common law?’ said
Carlini.
“‘Why should an exception be made in her favor?’
“‘I thought that my entreaties——’
 “‘What right have you, any more than the rest, to ask for an exception?’
“‘It is true.’
“‘But never mind,’ continued Cucumetto, laughing, ‘sooner or later your
turn will come.’ Carlini’s teeth clenched convulsively.
“‘Now, then,’ said Cucumetto, advancing towards the other bandits, ‘are
you coming?’
“‘I follow you.’
“Cucumetto departed, without losing sight of Carlini, for, doubtless, he
feared lest he should strike him unawares; but nothing betrayed a hostile
design on Carlini’s part. He was standing, his arms folded, near Rita, who was
still insensible. Cucumetto fancied for a moment the young man was about to
take her in his arms and fly; but this mattered little to him now Rita had been
his; and as for the money, three hundred piastres distributed among the band
was so small a sum that he cared little about it. He continued to follow the
path to the glade; but, to his great surprise, Carlini arrived almost as soon as
himself. ‘Let us draw lots! let us draw lots!’ cried all the brigands, when they
saw the chief.
“Their demand was fair, and the chief inclined his head in sign of
acquiescence. The eyes of all shone fiercely as they made their demand, and
the red light of the fire made them look like demons. The names of all,
including Carlini, were placed in a hat, and the youngest of the band drew
forth a ticket; the ticket bore the name of Diavolaccio. He was the man who
had proposed to Carlini the health of their chief, and to whom Carlini replied
by breaking the glass across his face. A large wound, extending from the
temple to the mouth, was bleeding profusely. Diavolaccio, seeing himself thus
favored by fortune, burst into a loud laugh.
“‘Captain,’ said he, ‘just now Carlini would not drink your health when I
proposed it to him; propose mine to him, and let us see if he will be more
condescending to you than to me.’ Everyone expected an explosion on
Carlini’s part; but to their great surprise, he took a glass in one hand and a
flask in the other, and filling it,—
“‘Your health, Diavolaccio,’ said he calmly, and he drank it off, without his
hand trembling in the least. Then sitting down by the fire, ‘My supper,’ said
he; ‘my expedition has given me an appetite.’
“‘Well done, Carlini!’ cried the brigands; ‘that is acting like a good fellow;’
and they all formed a circle round the fire, while Diavolaccio disappeared.
“Carlini ate and drank as if nothing had happened. The bandits looked on
with astonishment at this singular conduct until they heard footsteps. They
turned round, and saw Diavolaccio bearing the young girl in his arms. Her
head hung back, and her long hair swept the ground. As they entered the
circle, the bandits could perceive, by the firelight, the unearthly pallor of the
young girl and of Diavolaccio. This apparition was so strange and so solemn,
that everyone rose, with the exception of Carlini, who remained seated, and
ate and drank calmly. Diavolaccio advanced amidst the most profound silence,
and laid Rita at the captain’s feet. Then everyone could understand the cause
of the unearthly pallor in the young girl and the bandit. A knife was plunged
up to the hilt in Rita’s left breast. Everyone looked at Carlini; the sheath at his
belt was empty.
“‘Ah, ah,’ said the chief, ‘I now understand why Carlini stayed behind.’
“All savage natures appreciate a desperate deed. No other of the bandits
would, perhaps, have done the same; but they all understood what Carlini had
done.
“‘Now, then,’ cried Carlini, rising in his turn, and approaching the corpse,
his hand on the butt of one of his pistols, ‘does anyone dispute the possession
of this woman with me?’
“‘No,’ returned the chief, ‘she is thine.’
“Carlini raised her in his arms, and carried her out of the circle of firelight.
Cucumetto placed his sentinels for the night, and the bandits wrapped
themselves in their cloaks, and lay down before the fire. At midnight the
sentinel gave the alarm, and in an instant all were on the alert. It was Rita’s
father, who brought his daughter’s ransom in person.
“‘Here,’ said he, to Cucumetto, ‘here are three hundred piastres; give me
back my child.
“But the chief, without taking the money, made a sign to him to follow.
The old man obeyed. They both advanced beneath the trees, through whose
branches streamed the moonlight. Cucumetto stopped at last, and pointed to
two persons grouped at the foot of a tree.
“‘There,’ said he, ‘demand thy child of Carlini; he will tell thee what has
become of her;’ and he returned to his companions.
“The old man remained motionless; he felt that some great and unforeseen
misfortune hung over his head. At length he advanced toward the group, the
meaning of which he could not comprehend. As he approached, Carlini raised
his head, and the forms of two persons became visible to the old man’s eyes. A
woman lay on the ground, her head resting on the knees of a man, who was
seated by her; as he raised his head, the woman’s face became visible. The old
man recognized his child, and Carlini recognized the old man.
 “‘I expected thee,’ said the bandit to Rita’s father.
“‘Wretch!’ returned the old man, ‘what hast thou done?’ and he gazed with
terror on Rita, pale and bloody, a knife buried in her bosom. A ray of
moonlight poured through the trees, and lighted up the face of the dead.
“‘Cucumetto had violated thy daughter,’ said the bandit; ‘I loved her,
therefore I slew her; for she would have served as the sport of the whole band.’
The old man spoke not, and grew pale as death. ‘Now,’ continued Carlini, ‘if I
have done wrongly, avenge her;’ and withdrawing the knife from the wound in
Rita’s bosom, he held it out to the old man with one hand, while with the other
he tore open his vest.
“‘Thou hast done well!’ returned the old man in a hoarse voice; ‘embrace
me, my son.’
Carlini threw himself, sobbing like a child, into the arms of his mistress’s
father. These were the first tears the man of blood had ever wept.
“‘Now,’ said the old man, ‘aid me to bury my child.’ Carlini fetched two
pickaxes; and the father and the lover began to dig at the foot of a huge oak,
beneath which the young girl was to repose. When the grave was formed, the
father kissed her first, and then the lover; afterwards, one taking the head, the
other the feet, they placed her in the grave. Then they knelt on each side of the
grave, and said the prayers of the dead. Then, when they had finished, they
cast the earth over the corpse, until the grave was filled. Then, extending his
hand, the old man said; ‘I thank you, my son; and now leave me alone.’
“‘Yet——’ replied Carlini.
“‘Leave me, I command you.’
“Carlini obeyed, rejoined his comrades, folded himself in his cloak, and
soon appeared to sleep as soundly as the rest. It had been resolved the night
before to change their encampment. An hour before daybreak, Cucumetto
aroused his men, and gave the word to march. But Carlini would not quit the
forest, without knowing what had become of Rita’s father. He went toward the
place where he had left him. He found the old man suspended from one of the
branches of the oak which shaded his daughter’s grave. He then took an oath
of bitter vengeance over the dead body of the one and the tomb of the other.
But he was unable to complete this oath, for two days afterwards, in an
encounter with the Roman carbineers, Carlini was killed. There was some
surprise, however, that, as he was with his face to the enemy, he should have
received a ball between his shoulders. That astonishment ceased when one of
the brigands remarked to his comrades that Cucumetto was stationed ten paces
in Carlini’s rear when he fell. On the morning of the departure from the forest
of Frosinone he had followed Carlini in the darkness, and heard this oath of
vengeance, and, like a wise man, anticipated it.
“They told ten other stories of this bandit chief, each more singular than
the other. Thus, from Fondi to Perusia, everyone trembles at the name of
Cucumetto.
“These narratives were frequently the theme of conversation between Luigi
and Teresa. The young girl trembled very much at hearing the stories; but
Vampa reassured her with a smile, tapping the butt of his good fowling-piece,
which threw its ball so well; and if that did not restore her courage, he pointed
to a crow, perched on some dead branch, took aim, touched the trigger, and the
bird fell dead at the foot of the tree. Time passed on, and the two young people
had agreed to be married when Vampa should be twenty and Teresa nineteen
years of age. They were both orphans, and had only their employers’ leave to
ask, which had been already sought and obtained. One day when they were
talking over their plans for the future, they heard two or three reports of
firearms, and then suddenly a man came out of the wood, near which the two
young persons used to graze their flocks, and hurried towards them. When he
came within hearing, he exclaimed: ‘I am pursued; can you conceal me?’
“They knew full well that this fugitive must be a bandit; but there is an
innate sympathy between the Roman brigand and the Roman peasant and the
latter is always ready to aid the former. Vampa, without saying a word,
hastened to the stone that closed up the entrance to their grotto, drew it away,
made a sign to the fugitive to take refuge there, in a retreat unknown to
everyone, closed the stone upon him, and then went and resumed his seat by
Teresa. Instantly afterwards four carbineers, on horseback, appeared on the
edge of the wood; three of them appeared to be looking for the fugitive, while
the fourth dragged a brigand prisoner by the neck. The three carbineers looked
about carefully on every side, saw the young peasants, and galloping up,
began to question them. They had seen no one.
“‘That is very annoying,’ said the brigadier; for the man we are looking for
is the chief.’
“‘Cucumetto?’ cried Luigi and Teresa at the same moment.
“‘Yes,’ replied the brigadier; ‘and as his head is valued at a thousand
Roman crowns, there would have been five hundred for you, if you had helped
us to catch him.’ The two young persons exchanged looks. The brigadier had a
moment’s hope. Five hundred Roman crowns are three thousand lire, and three
thousand lire are a fortune for two poor orphans who are going to be married.
“‘Yes, it is very annoying,’ said Vampa; ‘but we have not seen him.’
“Then the carbineers scoured the country in different directions, but in
vain; then, after a time, they disappeared. Vampa then removed the stone, and