The Count of Monte Cristo

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aroused by the shrill voice of his wife, and grumbling to himself as he
went, he mounted to her chamber, first taking care, however, to set the
entrance door wide open, as an invitation to any chance traveller who
might be passing.

At the moment Caderousse quitted his sentry-like watch before the door,
the road on which he so eagerly strained his sight was void and
lonely as a desert at mid-day. There it lay stretching out into one
interminable line of dust and sand, with its sides bordered by tall,
meagre trees, altogether presenting so uninviting an appearance, that no
one in his senses could have imagined that any traveller, at liberty
to regulate his hours for journeying, would choose to expose himself in
such a formidable Sahara. Nevertheless, had Caderousse but retained
his post a few minutes longer, he might have caught a dim outline of
something approaching from the direction of Bellegarde; as the moving
object drew nearer, he would easily have perceived that it consisted of
a man and horse, between whom the kindest and most amiable understanding