The Count of Monte Cristo

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"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, every one 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 Moliere'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