The Count of Monte Cristo

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sentinel struck the rings of his carbine against his left hand. "Who
comes there?" he cried.

"A friend, a friend!" said Peppino; "but where is the captain?"

"There," said the sentinel, pointing over his shoulder to a spacious
crypt, hollowed out of the rock, the lights from which shone into the
passage through the large arched openings. "Fine spoil, captain, fine
spoil!" said Peppino in Italian, and taking Danglars by the collar of
his coat he dragged him to an opening resembling a door, through which
they entered the apartment which the captain appeared to have made his
dwelling-place.

"Is this the man?" asked the captain, who was attentively reading
Plutarch's "Life of Alexander."

"Himself, captain--himself."