The Count of Monte Cristo (1-31) 216 pages

THE COUNT OF MONTE CRISTO

by Alexandre Dumas, Pere

Chapter 1. Marseilles--The Arrival.

On the 24th of February, 1815, the look-out at Notre-Dame de la Gardesignalled the three-master, the Pharaon from Smyrna, Trieste, andNaples.

As usual, a pilot put off immediately, and rounding the Chateau d'If, got on board the vessel between Cape Morgion and Rion island.

Immediately, and according to custom, the ramparts of Fort Saint-Jeanwere covered with spectators; it is always an event at Marseilles for aship to come into port, especially when this ship, like the Pharaon, hasbeen built, rigged, and laden at the old Phocee docks, and belongs to anowner of the city.

The ship drew on and had safely passed the strait, which some volcanicshock has made between the Calasareigne and Jaros islands; had doubledPomegue, and approached the harbor under topsails, jib, and spanker, butso slowly and sedately that the idlers, with that instinct which isthe forerunner of evil, asked one another what misfortune could havehappened on board. However, those experienced in navigation saw plainlythat if any accident had occurred, it was not to the vessel herself, for she bore down with all the evidence of being skilfully handled, theanchor a-cockbill, the jib-boom guys already eased off, and standing bythe side of the pilot, who was steering the Pharaon towards the narrowentrance of the inner port, was a young man, who, with activity andvigilant eye, watched every motion of the ship, and repeated eachdirection of the pilot.

The vague disquietude which prevailed among the spectators had so muchaffected one of the crowd that he did not await the arrival of thevessel in harbor, but jumping into a small skiff, desired to be pulledalongside the Pharaon, which he reached as she rounded into La Reservebasin.

When the young man on board saw this person approach, he left hisstation by the pilot, and, hat in hand, leaned over the ship's bulwarks.

He was a fine, tall, slim young fellow of eighteen or twenty, withblack eyes, and hair as dark as a raven's wing; and his whole appearancebespoke that calmness and resolution peculiar to men accustomed fromtheir cradle to contend with danger.

"Ah, is it you, Dantes?" cried the man in the skiff. "What's the matter?and why have you such an air of sadness aboard?"

"A great misfortune, M. Morrel, " replied the young man, --"a greatmisfortune, for me especially! Off Civita Vecchia we lost our braveCaptain Leclere. "

"And the cargo?" inquired the owner, eagerly.

"Is all safe, M. Morrel; and I think you will be satisfied on that head. But poor Captain Leclere--"

"What happened to him?" asked the owner, with an air of considerableresignation. "What happened to the worthy captain?"

"He died. "

"Fell into the sea?"

"No, sir, he died of brain-fever in dreadful agony. " Then turning to thecrew, he said, "Bear a hand there, to take in sail!"

All hands obeyed, and at once the eight or ten seamen who composed thecrew, sprang to their respective stations at the spanker brails andouthaul, topsail sheets and halyards, the jib downhaul, and the topsailclewlines and buntlines. The young sailor gave a look to see that hisorders were promptly and accurately obeyed, and then turned again to theowner.

"And how did this misfortune occur?" inquired the latter, resuming theinterrupted conversation.

"Alas, sir, in the most unexpected manner. After a long talk with theharbor-master, Captain Leclere left Naples greatly disturbed in mind. In twenty-four hours he was attacked by a fever, and died three daysafterwards. We performed the usual burial service, and he is at hisrest, sewn up in his hammock with a thirty-six pound shot at his headand his heels, off El Giglio island. We bring to his widow his sword andcross of honor. It was worth while, truly, " added the young man with amelancholy smile, "to make war against the English for ten years, and todie in his bed at last, like everybody else. "

"Why, you see, Edmond, " replied the owner, who appeared more comfortedat every moment, "we are all mortal, and the old must make way for theyoung. If not, why, there would be no promotion; and since you assure methat the cargo--"

"Is all safe and sound, M. Morrel, take my word for it; and I advise younot to take 25, 000 francs for the profits of the voyage. "

Then, as they were just passing the Round Tower, the young man shouted:"Stand by there to lower the topsails and jib; brail up the spanker!"

The order was executed as promptly as it would have been on board aman-of-war.

"Let go--and clue up!" At this last command all the sails were lowered, and the vessel moved almost imperceptibly onwards.

"Now, if you will come on board, M. Morrel, " said Dantes, observing theowner's impatience, "here is your supercargo, M. Danglars, coming out ofhis cabin, who will furnish you with every particular. As for me, I mustlook after the anchoring, and dress the ship in mourning. "

The owner did not wait for a second invitation. He seized a rope whichDantes flung to him, and with an activity that would have done credit toa sailor, climbed up the side of the ship, while the young man, goingto his task, left the conversation to Danglars, who now came towardsthe owner. He was a man of twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, ofunprepossessing countenance, obsequious to his superiors, insolent tohis subordinates; and this, in addition to his position as responsibleagent on board, which is always obnoxious to the sailors, made him asmuch disliked by the crew as Edmond Dantes was beloved by them.

"Well, M. Morrel, " said Danglars, "you have heard of the misfortune thathas befallen us?"

"Yes--yes: poor Captain Leclere! He was a brave and an honest man. "

"And a first-rate seaman, one who had seen long and honorable service, as became a man charged with the interests of a house so important asthat of Morrel & Son, " replied Danglars.

"But, " replied the owner, glancing after Dantes, who was watching theanchoring of his vessel, "it seems to me that a sailor needs not be soold as you say, Danglars, to understand his business, for our friendEdmond seems to understand it thoroughly, and not to require instructionfrom any one. "

"Yes, " said Danglars, darting at Edmond a look gleaming with hate. "Yes, he is young, and youth is invariably self-confident. Scarcely was thecaptain's breath out of his body when he assumed the command withoutconsulting any one, and he caused us to lose a day and a half at theIsland of Elba, instead of making for Marseilles direct. "

"As to taking command of the vessel, " replied Morrel, "that was his dutyas captain's mate; as to losing a day and a half off the Island of Elba, he was wrong, unless the vessel needed repairs. "

"The vessel was in as good condition as I am, and as, I hope you are, M. Morrel, and this day and a half was lost from pure whim, for thepleasure of going ashore, and nothing else. "

"Dantes, " said the shipowner, turning towards the young man, "come thisway!"

"In a moment, sir, " answered Dantes, "and I'm with you. " Then calling tothe crew, he said--"Let go!"

The anchor was instantly dropped, and the chain ran rattling through theport-hole. Dantes continued at his post in spite of the presence of thepilot, until this manoeuvre was completed, and then he added, "Half-mastthe colors, and square the yards!"

"You see, " said Danglars, "he fancies himself captain already, upon myword. "

"And so, in fact, he is, " said the owner.

"Except your signature and your partner's, M. Morrel. "

"And why should he not have this?" asked the owner; "he is young, it istrue, but he seems to me a thorough seaman, and of full experience. "

A cloud passed over Danglars' brow. "Your pardon, M. Morrel, " saidDantes, approaching, "the vessel now rides at anchor, and I am at yourservice. You hailed me, I think?"

Danglars retreated a step or two. "I wished to inquire why you stoppedat the Island of Elba?"

"I do not know, sir; it was to fulfil the last instructions of CaptainLeclere, who, when dying, gave me a packet for Marshal Bertrand. "

"Then did you see him, Edmond?"

"Who?"

"The marshal. "

"Yes. "

Morrel looked around him, and then, drawing Dantes on one side, he saidsuddenly--"And how is the emperor?"

"Very well, as far as I could judge from the sight of him. "

"You saw the emperor, then?"

"He entered the marshal's apartment while I was there. "

"And you spoke to him?"

"Why, it was he who spoke to me, sir, " said Dantes, with a smile.

"And what did he say to you?"

"Asked me questions about the vessel, the time she left Marseilles, thecourse she had taken, and what was her cargo. I believe, if she had notbeen laden, and I had been her master, he would have bought her. But Itold him I was only mate, and that she belonged to the firm of Morrel &Son. 'Ah, yes, ' he said, 'I know them. The Morrels have been shipownersfrom father to son; and there was a Morrel who served in the sameregiment with me when I was in garrison at Valence. '"

"Pardieu, and that is true!" cried the owner, greatly delighted. "Andthat was Policar Morrel, my uncle, who was afterwards a captain. Dantes, you must tell my uncle that the emperor remembered him, and you will seeit will bring tears into the old soldier's eyes. Come, come, " continuedhe, patting Edmond's shoulder kindly, "you did very right, Dantes, tofollow Captain Leclere's instructions, and touch at Elba, although ifit were known that you had conveyed a packet to the marshal, and hadconversed with the emperor, it might bring you into trouble. "

"How could that bring me into trouble, sir?" asked Dantes; "for I didnot even know of what I was the bearer; and the emperor merely made suchinquiries as he would of the first comer. But, pardon me, here are thehealth officers and the customs inspectors coming alongside. " And theyoung man went to the gangway. As he departed, Danglars approached, andsaid, --

"Well, it appears that he has given you satisfactory reasons for hislanding at Porto-Ferrajo?"

"Yes, most satisfactory, my dear Danglars. "

"Well, so much the better, " said the supercargo; "for it is not pleasantto think that a comrade has not done his duty. "

"Dantes has done his, " replied the owner, "and that is not saying much. It was Captain Leclere who gave orders for this delay. "

"Talking of Captain Leclere, has not Dantes given you a letter fromhim?"

"To me?--no--was there one?"

"I believe that, besides the packet, Captain Leclere confided a letterto his care. "

"Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars?"

"Why, that which Dantes left at Porto-Ferrajo. "

"How do you know he had a packet to leave at Porto-Ferrajo?"

Danglars turned very red.

"I was passing close to the door of the captain's cabin, which was halfopen, and I saw him give the packet and letter to Dantes. "

"He did not speak to me of it, " replied the shipowner; "but if there beany letter he will give it to me. "

Danglars reflected for a moment. "Then, M. Morrel, I beg of you, "said he, "not to say a word to Dantes on the subject. I may have beenmistaken. "

At this moment the young man returned; Danglars withdrew.

"Well, my dear Dantes, are you now free?" inquired the owner.

"Yes, sir. "

"You have not been long detained. "

"No. I gave the custom-house officers a copy of our bill of lading; andas to the other papers, they sent a man off with the pilot, to whom Igave them. "

"Then you have nothing more to do here?"

"No--everything is all right now. "

"Then you can come and dine with me?"

"I really must ask you to excuse me, M. Morrel. My first visit is due tomy father, though I am not the less grateful for the honor you have doneme. "

"Right, Dantes, quite right. I always knew you were a good son. "

"And, " inquired Dantes, with some hesitation, "do you know how my fatheris?"

"Well, I believe, my dear Edmond, though I have not seen him lately. "

"Yes, he likes to keep himself shut up in his little room. "

"That proves, at least, that he has wanted for nothing during yourabsence. "

Dantes smiled. "My father is proud, sir, and if he had not a mealleft, I doubt if he would have asked anything from anyone, except fromHeaven. "

"Well, then, after this first visit has been made we shall count onyou. "

"I must again excuse myself, M. Morrel, for after this first visit hasbeen paid I have another which I am most anxious to pay. "

"True, Dantes, I forgot that there was at the Catalans some one whoexpects you no less impatiently than your father--the lovely Mercedes. "

Dantes blushed.

"Ah, ha, " said the shipowner, "I am not in the least surprised, forshe has been to me three times, inquiring if there were any news of thePharaon. Peste, Edmond, you have a very handsome mistress!"

"She is not my mistress, " replied the young sailor, gravely; "she is mybetrothed. "

"Sometimes one and the same thing, " said Morrel, with a smile.

"Not with us, sir, " replied Dantes.

"Well, well, my dear Edmond, " continued the owner, "don't let me detainyou. You have managed my affairs so well that I ought to allow you allthe time you require for your own. Do you want any money?"

"No, sir; I have all my pay to take--nearly three months' wages. "

"You are a careful fellow, Edmond. "

"Say I have a poor father, sir. "

"Yes, yes, I know how good a son you are, so now hasten away to seeyour father. I have a son too, and I should be very wroth with those whodetained him from me after a three months' voyage. "

"Then I have your leave, sir?"

"Yes, if you have nothing more to say to me. "

"Nothing. "

"Captain Leclere did not, before he died, give you a letter for me?"

"He was unable to write, sir. But that reminds me that I must ask yourleave of absence for some days. "

"To get married?"

"Yes, first, and then to go to Paris. "

"Very good; have what time you require, Dantes. It will take quite sixweeks to unload the cargo, and we cannot get you ready for sea untilthree months after that; only be back again in three months, for thePharaon, " added the owner, patting the young sailor on the back, "cannotsail without her captain. "

"Without her captain!" cried Dantes, his eyes sparkling with animation;"pray mind what you say, for you are touching on the most secret wishesof my heart. Is it really your intention to make me captain of thePharaon?"

"If I were sole owner we'd shake hands on it now, my dear Dantes, and call it settled; but I have a partner, and you know the Italianproverb--Chi ha compagno ha padrone--'He who has a partner has amaster. ' But the thing is at least half done, as you have one out of twovotes. Rely on me to procure you the other; I will do my best. "

"Ah, M. Morrel, " exclaimed the young seaman, with tears in his eyes, and grasping the owner's hand, "M. Morrel, I thank you in the name of myfather and of Mercedes. "

"That's all right, Edmond. There's a providence that watches over thedeserving. Go to your father: go and see Mercedes, and afterwards cometo me. "

"Shall I row you ashore?"

"No, thank you; I shall remain and look over the accounts with Danglars. Have you been satisfied with him this voyage?"

"That is according to the sense you attach to the question, sir. Do youmean is he a good comrade? No, for I think he never liked me since theday when I was silly enough, after a little quarrel we had, to proposeto him to stop for ten minutes at the island of Monte Cristo to settlethe dispute--a proposition which I was wrong to suggest, and he quiteright to refuse. If you mean as responsible agent when you ask me thequestion, I believe there is nothing to say against him, and that youwill be content with the way in which he has performed his duty. "

"But tell me, Dantes, if you had command of the Pharaon should you beglad to see Danglars remain?"

"Captain or mate, M. Morrel, I shall always have the greatest respectfor those who possess the owners' confidence. "

"That's right, that's right, Dantes! I see you are a thoroughly goodfellow, and will detain you no longer. Go, for I see how impatient youare. "

"Then I have leave?"

"Go, I tell you. "

"May I have the use of your skiff?"

"Certainly. "

"Then, for the present, M. Morrel, farewell, and a thousand thanks!"

"I hope soon to see you again, my dear Edmond. Good luck to you. "

The young sailor jumped into the skiff, and sat down in the sternsheets, with the order that he be put ashore at La Canebiere. The twooarsmen bent to their work, and the little boat glided away as rapidlyas possible in the midst of the thousand vessels which choke up thenarrow way which leads between the two rows of ships from the mouth ofthe harbor to the Quai d'Orleans.

The shipowner, smiling, followed him with his eyes until he saw himspring out on the quay and disappear in the midst of the throng, whichfrom five o'clock in the morning until nine o'clock at night, swarmsin the famous street of La Canebiere, --a street of which the modernPhocaeans are so proud that they say with all the gravity in the world, and with that accent which gives so much character to what is said, "IfParis had La Canebiere, Paris would be a second Marseilles. " On turninground the owner saw Danglars behind him, apparently awaiting orders, but in reality also watching the young sailor, --but there was a greatdifference in the expression of the two men who thus followed themovements of Edmond Dantes.

Chapter 2. Father and Son.

We will leave Danglars struggling with the demon of hatred, andendeavoring to insinuate in the ear of the shipowner some evilsuspicions against his comrade, and follow Dantes, who, after havingtraversed La Canebiere, took the Rue de Noailles, and entering a smallhouse, on the left of the Allees de Meillan, rapidly ascended fourflights of a dark staircase, holding the baluster with one hand, whilewith the other he repressed the beatings of his heart, and paused beforea half-open door, from which he could see the whole of a small room.

This room was occupied by Dantes' father. The news of the arrival of thePharaon had not yet reached the old man, who, mounted on a chair, wasamusing himself by training with trembling hand the nasturtiums andsprays of clematis that clambered over the trellis at his window. Suddenly, he felt an arm thrown around his body, and a well-known voicebehind him exclaimed, "Father--dear father!"

The old man uttered a cry, and turned round; then, seeing his son, hefell into his arms, pale and trembling.

"What ails you, my dearest father? Are you ill?" inquired the young man, much alarmed.

"No, no, my dear Edmond--my boy--my son!--no; but I did not expect you;and joy, the surprise of seeing you so suddenly--Ah, I feel as if I weregoing to die. "

"Come, come, cheer up, my dear father! 'Tis I--really I! They say joynever hurts, and so I came to you without any warning. Come now, dosmile, instead of looking at me so solemnly. Here I am back again, andwe are going to be happy. "

"Yes, yes, my boy, so we will--so we will, " replied the old man; "buthow shall we be happy? Shall you never leave me again? Come, tell me allthe good fortune that has befallen you. "

"God forgive me, " said the young man, "for rejoicing at happinessderived from the misery of others, but, Heaven knows, I did not seekthis good fortune; it has happened, and I really cannot pretend tolament it. The good Captain Leclere is dead, father, and it is probablethat, with the aid of M. Morrel, I shall have his place. Do youunderstand, father? Only imagine me a captain at twenty, with a hundredlouis pay, and a share in the profits! Is this not more than a poorsailor like me could have hoped for?"

"Yes, my dear boy, " replied the old man, "it is very fortunate. "

"Well, then, with the first money I touch, I mean you to have a smallhouse, with a garden in which to plant clematis, nasturtiums, andhoneysuckle. But what ails you, father? Are you not well?"

"'Tis nothing, nothing; it will soon pass away"--and as he said so theold man's strength failed him, and he fell backwards.

"Come, come, " said the young man, "a glass of wine, father, will reviveyou. Where do you keep your wine?"

"No, no; thanks. You need not look for it; I do not want it, " said theold man.

"Yes, yes, father, tell me where it is, " and he opened two or threecupboards.

"It is no use, " said the old man, "there is no wine. "

"What, no wine?" said Dantes, turning pale, and looking alternatelyat the hollow cheeks of the old man and the empty cupboards. "What, nowine? Have you wanted money, father?"

"I want nothing now that I have you, " said the old man.

"Yet, " stammered Dantes, wiping the perspiration from his brow, --"yet Igave you two hundred francs when I left, three months ago. "

"Yes, yes, Edmond, that is true, but you forgot at that time a littledebt to our neighbor, Caderousse. He reminded me of it, telling me ifI did not pay for you, he would be paid by M. Morrel; and so, you see, lest he might do you an injury"--

"Well?"

"Why, I paid him. "

"But, " cried Dantes, "it was a hundred and forty francs I owedCaderousse. "

"Yes, " stammered the old man.

"And you paid him out of the two hundred francs I left you?"

The old man nodded.

"So that you have lived for three months on sixty francs, " mutteredEdmond.

"You know how little I require, " said the old man.

"Heaven pardon me, " cried Edmond, falling on his knees before hisfather.

"What are you doing?"

"You have wounded me to the heart. "

"Never mind it, for I see you once more, " said the old man; "and nowit's all over--everything is all right again. "

"Yes, here I am, " said the young man, "with a promising future and alittle money. Here, father, here!" he said, "take this--take it, andsend for something immediately. " And he emptied his pockets on thetable, the contents consisting of a dozen gold pieces, five or sixfive-franc pieces, and some smaller coin. The countenance of old Dantesbrightened.

"Whom does this belong to?" he inquired.

"To me, to you, to us! Take it; buy some provisions; be happy, andto-morrow we shall have more. "

"Gently, gently, " said the old man, with a smile; "and by your leave Iwill use your purse moderately, for they would say, if they saw me buytoo many things at a time, that I had been obliged to await your return, in order to be able to purchase them. "

"Do as you please; but, first of all, pray have a servant, father. Iwill not have you left alone so long. I have some smuggled coffee andmost capital tobacco, in a small chest in the hold, which you shall haveto-morrow. But, hush, here comes somebody. "

"'Tis Caderousse, who has heard of your arrival, and no doubt comes tocongratulate you on your fortunate return. "

"Ah, lips that say one thing, while the heart thinks another, " murmuredEdmond. "But, never mind, he is a neighbor who has done us a service ona time, so he's welcome. "

As Edmond paused, the black and bearded head of Caderousse appeared atthe door. He was a man of twenty-five or six, and held a piece of cloth, which, being a tailor, he was about to make into a coat-lining.

"What, is it you, Edmond, back again?" said he, with a broadMarseillaise accent, and a grin that displayed his ivory-white teeth.

"Yes, as you see, neighbor Caderousse; and ready to be agreeable to youin any and every way, " replied Dantes, but ill-concealing his coldnessunder this cloak of civility.

"Thanks--thanks; but, fortunately, I do not want for anything; and itchances that at times there are others who have need of me. " Dantes madea gesture. "I do not allude to you, my boy. No!--no! I lent you money, and you returned it; that's like good neighbors, and we are quits. "

"We are never quits with those who oblige us, " was Dantes' reply; "forwhen we do not owe them money, we owe them gratitude. "

"What's the use of mentioning that? What is done is done. Let us talkof your happy return, my boy. I had gone on the quay to match a piece ofmulberry cloth, when I met friend Danglars. 'You at Marseilles?'--'Yes, 'says he.

"'I thought you were at Smyrna. '--'I was; but am now back again. '

"'And where is the dear boy, our little Edmond?'

"'Why, with his father, no doubt, ' replied Danglars. And so I came, "added Caderousse, "as fast as I could to have the pleasure of shakinghands with a friend. "

"Worthy Caderousse!" said the old man, "he is so much attached to us. "

"Yes, to be sure I am. I love and esteem you, because honest folks areso rare. But it seems you have come back rich, my boy, " continued thetailor, looking askance at the handful of gold and silver which Danteshad thrown on the table.

The young man remarked the greedy glance which shone in the dark eyes ofhis neighbor. "Eh, " he said, negligently, "this money is not mine. I wasexpressing to my father my fears that he had wanted many things in myabsence, and to convince me he emptied his purse on the table. Come, father" added Dantes, "put this money back in your box--unless neighborCaderousse wants anything, and in that case it is at his service. "

"No, my boy, no, " said Caderousse. "I am not in any want, thank God, my living is suited to my means. Keep your money--keep it, I say;--onenever has too much;--but, at the same time, my boy, I am as much obligedby your offer as if I took advantage of it. "

"It was offered with good will, " said Dantes.

"No doubt, my boy; no doubt. Well, you stand well with M. Morrel Ihear, --you insinuating dog, you!"

"M. Morrel has always been exceedingly kind to me, " replied Dantes.

"Then you were wrong to refuse to dine with him. "

"What, did you refuse to dine with him?" said old Dantes; "and did heinvite you to dine?"

"Yes, my dear father, " replied Edmond, smiling at his father'sastonishment at the excessive honor paid to his son.

"And why did you refuse, my son?" inquired the old man.

"That I might the sooner see you again, my dear father, " replied theyoung man. "I was most anxious to see you. "

"But it must have vexed M. Morrel, good, worthy man, " said Caderousse. "And when you are looking forward to be captain, it was wrong to annoythe owner. "

"But I explained to him the cause of my refusal, " replied Dantes, "and Ihope he fully understood it. "

"Yes, but to be captain one must do a little flattery to one's patrons. "

"I hope to be captain without that, " said Dantes.

"So much the better--so much the better! Nothing will give greaterpleasure to all your old friends; and I know one down there behind theSaint Nicolas citadel who will not be sorry to hear it. "

"Mercedes?" said the old man.

"Yes, my dear father, and with your permission, now I have seen you, andknow you are well and have all you require, I will ask your consent togo and pay a visit to the Catalans. "

"Go, my dear boy, " said old Dantes: "and heaven bless you in your wife, as it has blessed me in my son!"

"His wife!" said Caderousse; "why, how fast you go on, father Dantes;she is not his wife yet, as it seems to me. "

"So, but according to all probability she soon will be, " replied Edmond.

"Yes--yes, " said Caderousse; "but you were right to return as soon aspossible, my boy. "

"And why?"

"Because Mercedes is a very fine girl, and fine girls never lackfollowers; she particularly has them by dozens. "

"Really?" answered Edmond, with a smile which had in it traces of slightuneasiness.

"Ah, yes, " continued Caderousse, "and capital offers, too; but you know, you will be captain, and who could refuse you then?"

"Meaning to say, " replied Dantes, with a smile which but ill-concealedhis trouble, "that if I were not a captain"--

"Eh--eh!" said Caderousse, shaking his head.

"Come, come, " said the sailor, "I have a better opinion than you ofwomen in general, and of Mercedes in particular; and I am certain that, captain or not, she will remain ever faithful to me. "

"So much the better--so much the better, " said Caderousse. "When oneis going to be married, there is nothing like implicit confidence; butnever mind that, my boy, --go and announce your arrival, and let her knowall your hopes and prospects. "

"I will go directly, " was Edmond's reply; and, embracing his father, andnodding to Caderousse, he left the apartment.

Caderousse lingered for a moment, then taking leave of old Dantes, hewent downstairs to rejoin Danglars, who awaited him at the corner of theRue Senac.

"Well, " said Danglars, "did you see him?"

"I have just left him, " answered Caderousse.

"Did he allude to his hope of being captain?"

"He spoke of it as a thing already decided. "

"Indeed!" said Danglars, "he is in too much hurry, it appears to me. "

"Why, it seems M. Morrel has promised him the thing. "

"So that he is quite elated about it?"

"Why, yes, he is actually insolent over the matter--has already offeredme his patronage, as if he were a grand personage, and proffered me aloan of money, as though he were a banker. "

"Which you refused?"

"Most assuredly; although I might easily have accepted it, for it wasI who put into his hands the first silver he ever earned; but now M. Dantes has no longer any occasion for assistance--he is about to becomea captain. "

"Pooh!" said Danglars, "he is not one yet. "

"Ma foi, it will be as well if he is not, " answered Caderousse; "for ifhe should be, there will be really no speaking to him. "

"If we choose, " replied Danglars, "he will remain what he is; andperhaps become even less than he is. "

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing--I was speaking to myself. And is he still in love with theCatalane?"

"Over head and ears; but, unless I am much mistaken, there will be astorm in that quarter. "

"Explain yourself. "

"Why should I?"

"It is more important than you think, perhaps. You do not like Dantes?"

"I never like upstarts. "

"Then tell me all you know about the Catalane. "

"I know nothing for certain; only I have seen things which induce me tobelieve, as I told you, that the future captain will find some annoyancein the vicinity of the Vieilles Infirmeries. "

"What have you seen?--come, tell me!"

"Well, every time I have seen Mercedes come into the city she hasbeen accompanied by a tall, strapping, black-eyed Catalan, with a redcomplexion, brown skin, and fierce air, whom she calls cousin. "

"Really; and you think this cousin pays her attentions?"

"I only suppose so. What else can a strapping chap of twenty-one meanwith a fine wench of seventeen?"

"And you say that Dantes has gone to the Catalans?"

"He went before I came down. "

"Let us go the same way; we will stop at La Reserve, and we can drink aglass of La Malgue, whilst we wait for news. "

"Come along, " said Caderousse; "but you pay the score. "

"Of course, " replied Danglars; and going quickly to the designatedplace, they called for a bottle of wine, and two glasses.

Pere Pamphile had seen Dantes pass not ten minutes before; and assuredthat he was at the Catalans, they sat down under the budding foliageof the planes and sycamores, in the branches of which the birds weresinging their welcome to one of the first days of spring.

Chapter 3. The Catalans.

Beyond a bare, weather-worn wall, about a hundred paces from the spotwhere the two friends sat looking and listening as they drank theirwine, was the village of the Catalans. Long ago this mysterious colonyquitted Spain, and settled on the tongue of land on which it is to thisday. Whence it came no one knew, and it spoke an unknown tongue. One ofits chiefs, who understood Provencal, begged the commune of Marseillesto give them this bare and barren promontory, where, like the sailors ofold, they had run their boats ashore. The request was granted; and threemonths afterwards, around the twelve or fifteen small vessels whichhad brought these gypsies of the sea, a small village sprang up. Thisvillage, constructed in a singular and picturesque manner, half Moorish, half Spanish, still remains, and is inhabited by descendants of thefirst comers, who speak the language of their fathers. For three or fourcenturies they have remained upon this small promontory, on whichthey had settled like a flight of seabirds, without mixing with theMarseillaise population, intermarrying, and preserving their originalcustoms and the costume of their mother-country as they have preservedits language.

Our readers will follow us along the only street of this little village, and enter with us one of the houses, which is sunburned to the beautifuldead-leaf color peculiar to the buildings of the country, and withincoated with whitewash, like a Spanish posada. A young and beautifulgirl, with hair as black as jet, her eyes as velvety as the gazelle's, was leaning with her back against the wainscot, rubbing in her slenderdelicately moulded fingers a bunch of heath blossoms, the flowers ofwhich she was picking off and strewing on the floor; her arms, bare tothe elbow, brown, and modelled after those of the Arlesian Venus, movedwith a kind of restless impatience, and she tapped the earth with herarched and supple foot, so as to display the pure and full shape of herwell-turned leg, in its red cotton, gray and blue clocked, stocking. Atthree paces from her, seated in a chair which he balanced on two legs, leaning his elbow on an old worm-eaten table, was a tall young man oftwenty, or two-and-twenty, who was looking at her with an air in whichvexation and uneasiness were mingled. He questioned her with his eyes, but the firm and steady gaze of the young girl controlled his look.

"You see, Mercedes, " said the young man, "here is Easter come roundagain; tell me, is this the moment for a wedding?"

"I have answered you a hundred times, Fernand, and really you must bevery stupid to ask me again. "

"Well, repeat it, --repeat it, I beg of you, that I may at last believeit! Tell me for the hundredth time that you refuse my love, which hadyour mother's sanction. Make me understand once for all that you aretrifling with my happiness, that my life or death are nothing to you. Ah, to have dreamed for ten years of being your husband, Mercedes, andto lose that hope, which was the only stay of my existence!"

"At least it was not I who ever encouraged you in that hope, Fernand, "replied Mercedes; "you cannot reproach me with the slightest coquetry. I have always said to you, 'I love you as a brother; but do not ask fromme more than sisterly affection, for my heart is another's. ' Is not thistrue, Fernand?"

"Yes, that is very true, Mercedes, " replied the young man, "Yes, youhave been cruelly frank with me; but do you forget that it is among theCatalans a sacred law to intermarry?"

"You mistake, Fernand; it is not a law, but merely a custom, and, I prayof you, do not cite this custom in your favor. You are included in theconscription, Fernand, and are only at liberty on sufferance, liable atany moment to be called upon to take up arms. Once a soldier, what wouldyou do with me, a poor orphan, forlorn, without fortune, with nothingbut a half-ruined hut and a few ragged nets, the miserable inheritanceleft by my father to my mother, and by my mother to me? She has beendead a year, and you know, Fernand, I have subsisted almost entirely onpublic charity. Sometimes you pretend I am useful to you, and that isan excuse to share with me the produce of your fishing, and I accept it, Fernand, because you are the son of my father's brother, because we werebrought up together, and still more because it would give you so muchpain if I refuse. But I feel very deeply that this fish which I go andsell, and with the produce of which I buy the flax I spin, --I feel verykeenly, Fernand, that this is charity. "

"And if it were, Mercedes, poor and lone as you are, you suit me aswell as the daughter of the first shipowner or the richest bankerof Marseilles! What do such as we desire but a good wife and carefulhousekeeper, and where can I look for these better than in you?"

"Fernand, " answered Mercedes, shaking her head, "a woman becomes a badmanager, and who shall say she will remain an honest woman, whenshe loves another man better than her husband? Rest content with myfriendship, for I say once more that is all I can promise, and I willpromise no more than I can bestow. "

"I understand, " replied Fernand, "you can endure your own wretchednesspatiently, but you are afraid to share mine. Well, Mercedes, beloved byyou, I would tempt fortune; you would bring me good luck, and I shouldbecome rich. I could extend my occupation as a fisherman, might get aplace as clerk in a warehouse, and become in time a dealer myself. "

"You could do no such thing, Fernand; you are a soldier, and if youremain at the Catalans it is because there is no war; so remain afisherman, and contented with my friendship, as I cannot give you more. "

"Well, I will do better, Mercedes. I will be a sailor; instead of thecostume of our fathers, which you despise, I will wear a varnished hat, a striped shirt, and a blue jacket, with an anchor on the buttons. Wouldnot that dress please you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mercedes, with an angry glance, --"what do youmean? I do not understand you?"

"I mean, Mercedes, that you are thus harsh and cruel with me, becauseyou are expecting some one who is thus attired; but perhaps he whom youawait is inconstant, or if he is not, the sea is so to him. "

"Fernand, " cried Mercedes, "I believed you were good-hearted, and I wasmistaken! Fernand, you are wicked to call to your aid jealousy and theanger of God! Yes, I will not deny it, I do await, and I do love him ofwhom you speak; and, if he does not return, instead of accusing him ofthe inconstancy which you insinuate, I will tell you that he died lovingme and me only. " The young girl made a gesture of rage. "I understandyou, Fernand; you would be revenged on him because I do not love you;you would cross your Catalan knife with his dirk. What end would thatanswer? To lose you my friendship if he were conquered, and see thatfriendship changed into hate if you were victor. Believe me, to seek aquarrel with a man is a bad method of pleasing the woman who loves thatman. No, Fernand, you will not thus give way to evil thoughts. Unable tohave me for your wife, you will content yourself with having me foryour friend and sister; and besides, " she added, her eyes troubled andmoistened with tears, "wait, wait, Fernand; you said just now that thesea was treacherous, and he has been gone four months, and during thesefour months there have been some terrible storms. "

Fernand made no reply, nor did he attempt to check the tears whichflowed down the cheeks of Mercedes, although for each of these tears hewould have shed his heart's blood; but these tears flowed for another. He arose, paced a while up and down the hut, and then, suddenly stoppingbefore Mercedes, with his eyes glowing and his hands clinched, --"Say, Mercedes, " he said, "once for all, is this your final determination?"

"I love Edmond Dantes, " the young girl calmly replied, "and none butEdmond shall ever be my husband. "

"And you will always love him?"

"As long as I live. "

Fernand let fall his head like a defeated man, heaved a sigh that waslike a groan, and then suddenly looking her full in the face, withclinched teeth and expanded nostrils, said, --"But if he is dead"--

"If he is dead, I shall die too. "

"If he has forgotten you"--

"Mercedes!" called a joyous voice from without, --"Mercedes!"

"Ah, " exclaimed the young girl, blushing with delight, and fairlyleaping in excess of love, "you see he has not forgotten me, for here heis!" And rushing towards the door, she opened it, saying, "Here, Edmond, here I am!"

Fernand, pale and trembling, drew back, like a traveller at the sightof a serpent, and fell into a chair beside him. Edmond and Mercedes wereclasped in each other's arms. The burning Marseilles sun, which shotinto the room through the open door, covered them with a flood of light. At first they saw nothing around them. Their intense happiness isolatedthem from all the rest of the world, and they only spoke in brokenwords, which are the tokens of a joy so extreme that they seem ratherthe expression of sorrow. Suddenly Edmond saw the gloomy, pale, andthreatening countenance of Fernand, as it was defined in the shadow. By a movement for which he could scarcely account to himself, the youngCatalan placed his hand on the knife at his belt.

"Ah, your pardon, " said Dantes, frowning in his turn; "I did notperceive that there were three of us. " Then, turning to Mercedes, heinquired, "Who is this gentleman?"

"One who will be your best friend, Dantes, for he is my friend, mycousin, my brother; it is Fernand--the man whom, after you, Edmond, Ilove the best in the world. Do you not remember him?"

"Yes!" said Dantes, and without relinquishing Mercedes hand clasped inone of his own, he extended the other to the Catalan with a cordial air. But Fernand, instead of responding to this amiable gesture, remainedmute and trembling. Edmond then cast his eyes scrutinizingly at theagitated and embarrassed Mercedes, and then again on the gloomy andmenacing Fernand. This look told him all, and his anger waxed hot.

"I did not know, when I came with such haste to you, that I was to meetan enemy here. "

"An enemy!" cried Mercedes, with an angry look at her cousin. "An enemyin my house, do you say, Edmond! If I believed that, I would place myarm under yours and go with you to Marseilles, leaving the house toreturn to it no more. "

Fernand's eye darted lightning. "And should any misfortune occur toyou, dear Edmond, " she continued with the same calmness which proved toFernand that the young girl had read the very innermost depths of hissinister thought, "if misfortune should occur to you, I would ascend thehighest point of the Cape de Morgion and cast myself headlong from it. "

Fernand became deadly pale. "But you are deceived, Edmond, " shecontinued. "You have no enemy here--there is no one but Fernand, mybrother, who will grasp your hand as a devoted friend. "

And at these words the young girl fixed her imperious look on theCatalan, who, as if fascinated by it, came slowly towards Edmond, andoffered him his hand. His hatred, like a powerless though furious wave, was broken against the strong ascendancy which Mercedes exercised overhim. Scarcely, however, had he touched Edmond's hand than he felt he haddone all he could do, and rushed hastily out of the house.

"Oh, " he exclaimed, running furiously and tearing his hair--"Oh, whowill deliver me from this man? Wretched--wretched that I am!"

"Hallo, Catalan! Hallo, Fernand! where are you running to?" exclaimed avoice.

The young man stopped suddenly, looked around him, and perceivedCaderousse sitting at table with Danglars, under an arbor.

"Well", said Caderousse, "why don't you come? Are you really in such ahurry that you have no time to pass the time of day with your friends?"

"Particularly when they have still a full bottle before them, " addedDanglars. Fernand looked at them both with a stupefied air, but did notsay a word.

"He seems besotted, " said Danglars, pushing Caderousse with his knee. "Are we mistaken, and is Dantes triumphant in spite of all we havebelieved?"

"Why, we must inquire into that, " was Caderousse's reply; and turningtowards the young man, said, "Well, Catalan, can't you make up yourmind?"

Fernand wiped away the perspiration steaming from his brow, and slowlyentered the arbor, whose shade seemed to restore somewhat of calmness tohis senses, and whose coolness somewhat of refreshment to his exhaustedbody.

"Good-day, " said he. "You called me, didn't you?" And he fell, ratherthan sat down, on one of the seats which surrounded the table.

"I called you because you were running like a madman, and I was afraidyou would throw yourself into the sea, " said Caderousse, laughing. "Why, when a man has friends, they are not only to offer him a glass of wine, but, moreover, to prevent his swallowing three or four pints of waterunnecessarily!"

Fernand gave a groan, which resembled a sob, and dropped his head intohis hands, his elbows leaning on the table.

"Well, Fernand, I must say, " said Caderousse, beginning theconversation, with that brutality of the common people in whichcuriosity destroys all diplomacy, "you look uncommonly like a rejectedlover;" and he burst into a hoarse laugh.

"Bah!" said Danglars, "a lad of his make was not born to be unhappy inlove. You are laughing at him, Caderousse. "

"No, " he replied, "only hark how he sighs! Come, come, Fernand, " saidCaderousse, "hold up your head, and answer us. It's not polite not toreply to friends who ask news of your health. "

"My health is well enough, " said Fernand, clinching his hands withoutraising his head.

"Ah, you see, Danglars, " said Caderousse, winking at his friend, "thisis how it is; Fernand, whom you see here, is a good and brave Catalan, one of the best fishermen in Marseilles, and he is in love with a veryfine girl, named Mercedes; but it appears, unfortunately, that the finegirl is in love with the mate of the Pharaon; and as the Pharaon arrivedto-day--why, you understand!"

"No; I do not understand, " said Danglars.

"Poor Fernand has been dismissed, " continued Caderousse.

"Well, and what then?" said Fernand, lifting up his head, and looking atCaderousse like a man who looks for some one on whom to vent his anger;"Mercedes is not accountable to any person, is she? Is she not free tolove whomsoever she will?"

"Oh, if you take it in that sense, " said Caderousse, "it is anotherthing. But I thought you were a Catalan, and they told me the Catalanswere not men to allow themselves to be supplanted by a rival. It waseven told me that Fernand, especially, was terrible in his vengeance. "

Fernand smiled piteously. "A lover is never terrible, " he said.

"Poor fellow!" remarked Danglars, affecting to pity the young man fromthe bottom of his heart. "Why, you see, he did not expect to see Dantesreturn so suddenly--he thought he was dead, perhaps; or perchancefaithless! These things always come on us more severely when they comesuddenly. "

"Ah, ma foi, under any circumstances, " said Caderousse, who drank as hespoke, and on whom the fumes of the wine began to take effect, --"underany circumstances Fernand is not the only person put out by thefortunate arrival of Dantes; is he, Danglars?"

"No, you are right--and I should say that would bring him ill-luck. "

"Well, never mind, " answered Caderousse, pouring out a glass of winefor Fernand, and filling his own for the eighth or ninth time, whileDanglars had merely sipped his. "Never mind--in the meantime he marriesMercedes--the lovely Mercedes--at least he returns to do that. "

During this time Danglars fixed his piercing glance on the young man, onwhose heart Caderousse's words fell like molten lead.

"And when is the wedding to be?" he asked.

"Oh, it is not yet fixed!" murmured Fernand.

"No, but it will be, " said Caderousse, "as surely as Dantes will becaptain of the Pharaon--eh, Danglars?"

Danglars shuddered at this unexpected attack, and turned to Caderousse, whose countenance he scrutinized, to try and detect whether the blowwas premeditated; but he read nothing but envy in a countenance alreadyrendered brutal and stupid by drunkenness.

"Well, " said he, filling the glasses, "let us drink to Captain EdmondDantes, husband of the beautiful Catalane!"

Caderousse raised his glass to his mouth with unsteady hand, andswallowed the contents at a gulp. Fernand dashed his on the ground.

"Eh, eh, eh!" stammered Caderousse. "What do I see down there by thewall, in the direction of the Catalans? Look, Fernand, your eyes arebetter than mine. I believe I see double. You know wine is a deceiver;but I should say it was two lovers walking side by side, and hand inhand. Heaven forgive me, they do not know that we can see them, and theyare actually embracing!"

Danglars did not lose one pang that Fernand endured.

"Do you know them, Fernand?" he said.

"Yes, " was the reply, in a low voice. "It is Edmond and Mercedes!"

"Ah, see there, now!" said Caderousse; "and I did not recognize them!Hallo, Dantes! hello, lovely damsel! Come this way, and let us know whenthe wedding is to be, for Fernand here is so obstinate he will not tellus. "

"Hold your tongue, will you?" said Danglars, pretending to restrainCaderousse, who, with the tenacity of drunkards, leaned out of thearbor. "Try to stand upright, and let the lovers make love withoutinterruption. See, look at Fernand, and follow his example; he iswell-behaved!"

Fernand, probably excited beyond bearing, pricked by Danglars, as thebull is by the bandilleros, was about to rush out; for he had risen fromhis seat, and seemed to be collecting himself to dash headlong upon hisrival, when Mercedes, smiling and graceful, lifted up her lovely head, and looked at them with her clear and bright eyes. At this Fernandrecollected her threat of dying if Edmond died, and dropped againheavily on his seat. Danglars looked at the two men, one after theother, the one brutalized by liquor, the other overwhelmed with love.

"I shall get nothing from these fools, " he muttered; "and I am very muchafraid of being here between a drunkard and a coward. Here's an enviousfellow making himself boozy on wine when he ought to be nursing hiswrath, and here is a fool who sees the woman he loves stolen from underhis nose and takes on like a big baby. Yet this Catalan has eyes thatglisten like those of the vengeful Spaniards, Sicilians, and Calabrians, and the other has fists big enough to crush an ox at one blow. Unquestionably, Edmond's star is in the ascendant, and he will marry thesplendid girl--he will be captain, too, and laugh at us all, unless"--asinister smile passed over Danglars' lips--"unless I take a hand in theaffair, " he added.

"Hallo!" continued Caderousse, half-rising, and with his fist on thetable, "hallo, Edmond! do you not see your friends, or are you too proudto speak to them?"

"No, my dear fellow!" replied Dantes, "I am not proud, but I am happy, and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride. "

"Ah, very well, that's an explanation!" said Caderousse. "How do you do, Madame Dantes?"

Mercedes courtesied gravely, and said--"That is not my name, and in mycountry it bodes ill fortune, they say, to call a young girl by the nameof her betrothed before he becomes her husband. So call me Mercedes, ifyou please. "

"We must excuse our worthy neighbor, Caderousse, " said Dantes, "he is soeasily mistaken. "

"So, then, the wedding is to take place immediately, M. Dantes, " saidDanglars, bowing to the young couple.

"As soon as possible, M. Danglars; to-day all preliminaries will bearranged at my father's, and to-morrow, or next day at latest, thewedding festival here at La Reserve. My friends will be there, I hope;that is to say, you are invited, M. Danglars, and you, Caderousse. "

"And Fernand, " said Caderousse with a chuckle; "Fernand, too, isinvited!"

"My wife's brother is my brother, " said Edmond; "and we, Mercedes and I, should be very sorry if he were absent at such a time. "

Fernand opened his mouth to reply, but his voice died on his lips, andhe could not utter a word.

"To-day the preliminaries, to-morrow or next day the ceremony! You arein a hurry, captain!"

"Danglars, " said Edmond, smiling, "I will say to you as Mercedes saidjust now to Caderousse, 'Do not give me a title which does not belong tome'; that may bring me bad luck. "

"Your pardon, " replied Danglars, "I merely said you seemed in a hurry, and we have lots of time; the Pharaon cannot be under weigh again inless than three months. "

"We are always in a hurry to be happy, M. Danglars; for when we havesuffered a long time, we have great difficulty in believing in goodfortune. But it is not selfishness alone that makes me thus in haste; Imust go to Paris. "

"Ah, really?--to Paris! and will it be the first time you have ever beenthere, Dantes?"

"Yes. "

"Have you business there?"

"Not of my own; the last commission of poor Captain Leclere; you knowto what I allude, Danglars--it is sacred. Besides, I shall only take thetime to go and return. "

"Yes, yes, I understand, " said Danglars, and then in a low tone, headded, "To Paris, no doubt to deliver the letter which the grand marshalgave him. Ah, this letter gives me an idea--a capital idea! Ah; Dantes, my friend, you are not yet registered number one on board the good shipPharaon;" then turning towards Edmond, who was walking away, "A pleasantjourney, " he cried.

"Thank you, " said Edmond with a friendly nod, and the two loverscontinued on their way, as calm and joyous as if they were the veryelect of heaven.

Chapter 4. Conspiracy.

Danglars followed Edmond and Mercedes with his eyes until the two loversdisappeared behind one of the angles of Fort Saint Nicolas, then turninground, he perceived Fernand, who had fallen, pale and trembling, intohis chair, while Caderousse stammered out the words of a drinking-song.

"Well, my dear sir, " said Danglars to Fernand, "here is a marriage whichdoes not appear to make everybody happy. "

"It drives me to despair, " said Fernand.

"Do you, then, love Mercedes?"

"I adore her!"

"For long?"

"As long as I have known her--always. "

"And you sit there, tearing your hair, instead of seeking to remedy yourcondition; I did not think that was the way of your people. "

"What would you have me do?" said Fernand.

"How do I know? Is it my affair? I am not in love with MademoiselleMercedes; but for you--in the words of the gospel, seek, and you shallfind. "

"I have found already. "

"What?"

"I would stab the man, but the woman told me that if any misfortunehappened to her betrothed, she would kill herself. "

"Pooh! Women say those things, but never do them. "

"You do not know Mercedes; what she threatens she will do. "

"Idiot!" muttered Danglars; "whether she kill herself or not, whatmatter, provided Dantes is not captain?"

"Before Mercedes should die, " replied Fernand, with the accents ofunshaken resolution, "I would die myself!"

"That's what I call love!" said Caderousse with a voice more tipsy thanever. "That's love, or I don't know what love is. "

"Come, " said Danglars, "you appear to me a good sort of fellow, and hangme, I should like to help you, but"--

"Yes, " said Caderousse, "but how?"

"My dear fellow, " replied Danglars, "you are three parts drunk; finishthe bottle, and you will be completely so. Drink then, and do not meddlewith what we are discussing, for that requires all one's wit and cooljudgment. "

"I--drunk!" said Caderousse; "well that's a good one! I could drinkfour more such bottles; they are no bigger than cologne flasks. PerePamphile, more wine!" and Caderousse rattled his glass upon the table.

"You were saying, sir"--said Fernand, awaiting with great anxiety theend of this interrupted remark.

"What was I saying? I forget. This drunken Caderousse has made me losethe thread of my sentence. "

"Drunk, if you like; so much the worse for those who fear wine, for itis because they have bad thoughts which they are afraid the liquor willextract from their hearts;" and Caderousse began to sing the two lastlines of a song very popular at the time, --

'Tous les mechants sont beuveurs d'eau; C'est bien prouve par ledeluge. ' [*]

* "The wicked are great drinkers of water As the flood proved once for all. "

"You said, sir, you would like to help me, but"--

"Yes; but I added, to help you it would be sufficient that Dantesdid not marry her you love; and the marriage may easily be thwarted, methinks, and yet Dantes need not die. "

"Death alone can separate them, " remarked Fernand.

"You talk like a noodle, my friend, " said Caderousse; "and here isDanglars, who is a wide-awake, clever, deep fellow, who will prove toyou that you are wrong. Prove it, Danglars. I have answered for you. Saythere is no need why Dantes should die; it would, indeed, be a pity heshould. Dantes is a good fellow; I like Dantes. Dantes, your health. "

Fernand rose impatiently. "Let him run on, " said Danglars, restrainingthe young man; "drunk as he is, he is not much out in what he says. Absence severs as well as death, and if the walls of a prison werebetween Edmond and Mercedes they would be as effectually separated as ifhe lay under a tombstone. "

"Yes; but one gets out of prison, " said Caderousse, who, with what sensewas left him, listened eagerly to the conversation, "and when one getsout and one's name is Edmond Dantes, one seeks revenge"--

"What matters that?" muttered Fernand.

"And why, I should like to know, " persisted Caderousse, "should they putDantes in prison? he has not robbed or killed or murdered. "

"Hold your tongue!" said Danglars.

"I won't hold my tongue!" replied Caderousse; "I say I want to know whythey should put Dantes in prison; I like Dantes; Dantes, your health!"and he swallowed another glass of wine.

Danglars saw in the muddled look of the tailor the progress of hisintoxication, and turning towards Fernand, said, "Well, you understandthere is no need to kill him. "

"Certainly not, if, as you said just now, you have the means of havingDantes arrested. Have you that means?"

"It is to be found for the searching. But why should I meddle in thematter? it is no affair of mine. "

"I know not why you meddle, " said Fernand, seizing his arm; "but this Iknow, you have some motive of personal hatred against Dantes, for he whohimself hates is never mistaken in the sentiments of others. "

"I!--motives of hatred against Dantes? None, on my word! I saw you wereunhappy, and your unhappiness interested me; that's all; but since youbelieve I act for my own account, adieu, my dear friend, get out of theaffair as best you may;" and Danglars rose as if he meant to depart.

"No, no, " said Fernand, restraining him, "stay! It is of very littleconsequence to me at the end of the matter whether you have any angryfeeling or not against Dantes. I hate him! I confess it openly. Do youfind the means, I will execute it, provided it is not to kill the man, for Mercedes has declared she will kill herself if Dantes is killed. "

Caderousse, who had let his head drop on the table, now raised it, andlooking at Fernand with his dull and fishy eyes, he said, --"Kill Dantes!who talks of killing Dantes? I won't have him killed--I won't! He's myfriend, and this morning offered to share his money with me, as I sharedmine with him. I won't have Dantes killed--I won't!"

"And who has said a word about killing him, muddlehead?" repliedDanglars. "We were merely joking; drink to his health, " he added, filling Caderousse's glass, "and do not interfere with us. "

"Yes, yes, Dantes' good health!" said Caderousse, emptying his glass, "here's to his health! his health--hurrah!"

"But the means--the means?" said Fernand.

"Have you not hit upon any?" asked Danglars.

"No!--you undertook to do so. "

"True, " replied Danglars; "the French have the superiority over theSpaniards, that the Spaniards ruminate, while the French invent. "

"Do you invent, then, " said Fernand impatiently.

"Waiter, " said Danglars, "pen, ink, and paper. "

"Pen, ink, and paper, " muttered Fernand.

"Yes; I am a supercargo; pen, ink, and paper are my tools, and withoutmy tools I am fit for nothing. "

"Pen, ink, and paper, then, " called Fernand loudly.

"There's what you want on that table, " said the waiter.

"Bring them here. " The waiter did as he was desired.

"When one thinks, " said Caderousse, letting his hand drop on the paper, "there is here wherewithal to kill a man more sure than if we waited atthe corner of a wood to assassinate him! I have always had more dreadof a pen, a bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper, than of a sword orpistol. "

"The fellow is not so drunk as he appears to be, " said Danglars. "Givehim some more wine, Fernand. " Fernand filled Caderousse's glass, who, like the confirmed toper he was, lifted his hand from the paper andseized the glass.

The Catalan watched him until Caderousse, almost overcome by this freshassault on his senses, rested, or rather dropped, his glass upon thetable.

"Well!" resumed the Catalan, as he saw the final glimmer of Caderousse'sreason vanishing before the last glass of wine.

"Well, then, I should say, for instance, " resumed Danglars, "that ifafter a voyage such as Dantes has just made, in which he touched at theIsland of Elba, some one were to denounce him to the king's procureur asa Bonapartist agent"--

"I will denounce him!" exclaimed the young man hastily.

"Yes, but they will make you then sign your declaration, and confrontyou with him you have denounced; I will supply you with the means ofsupporting your accusation, for I know the fact well. But Dantes cannotremain forever in prison, and one day or other he will leave it, andthe day when he comes out, woe betide him who was the cause of hisincarceration!"

"Oh, I should wish nothing better than that he would come and seek aquarrel with me. "

"Yes, and Mercedes! Mercedes, who will detest you if you have only themisfortune to scratch the skin of her dearly beloved Edmond!"

"True!" said Fernand.

"No, no, " continued Danglars; "if we resolve on such a step, it wouldbe much better to take, as I now do, this pen, dip it into this ink, andwrite with the left hand (that the writing may not be recognized) thedenunciation we propose. " And Danglars, uniting practice with theory, wrote with his left hand, and in a writing reversed from his usualstyle, and totally unlike it, the following lines, which he handed toFernand, and which Fernand read in an undertone:--

"The honorable, the king's attorney, is informed by a friend of thethrone and religion, that one Edmond Dantes, mate of the ship Pharaon, arrived this morning from Smyrna, after having touched at Naplesand Porto-Ferrajo, has been intrusted by Murat with a letter for theusurper, and by the usurper with a letter for the Bonapartist committeein Paris. Proof of this crime will be found on arresting him, for theletter will be found upon him, or at his father's, or in his cabin onboard the Pharaon. "

"Very good, " resumed Danglars; "now your revenge looks likecommon-sense, for in no way can it revert to yourself, and the matterwill thus work its own way; there is nothing to do now but fold theletter as I am doing, and write upon it, 'To the king's attorney, ' andthat's all settled. " And Danglars wrote the address as he spoke.

"Yes, and that's all settled!" exclaimed Caderousse, who, by a lasteffort of intellect, had followed the reading of the letter, andinstinctively comprehended all the misery which such a denunciationmust entail. "Yes, and that's all settled; only it will be an infamousshame;" and he stretched out his hand to reach the letter.

"Yes, " said Danglars, taking it from beyond his reach; "and as what Isay and do is merely in jest, and I, amongst the first and foremost, should be sorry if anything happened to Dantes--the worthy Dantes--lookhere!" And taking the letter, he squeezed it up in his hands and threwit into a corner of the arbor.

"All right!" said Caderousse. "Dantes is my friend, and I won't have himill-used. "

"And who thinks of using him ill? Certainly neither I nor Fernand, "said Danglars, rising and looking at the young man, who still remainedseated, but whose eye was fixed on the denunciatory sheet of paper flunginto the corner.

"In this case, " replied Caderousse, "let's have some more wine. I wishto drink to the health of Edmond and the lovely Mercedes. "

"You have had too much already, drunkard, " said Danglars; "and if youcontinue, you will be compelled to sleep here, because unable to standon your legs. "

"I?" said Caderousse, rising with all the offended dignity of a drunkenman, "I can't keep on my legs? Why, I'll wager I can go up into thebelfry of the Accoules, and without staggering, too!"

"Done!" said Danglars, "I'll take your bet; but to-morrow--to-day it istime to return. Give me your arm, and let us go. "

"Very well, let us go, " said Caderousse; "but I don't want your arm atall. Come, Fernand, won't you return to Marseilles with us?"

"No, " said Fernand; "I shall return to the Catalans. "

"You're wrong. Come with us to Marseilles--come along. "

"I will not. "

"What do you mean? you will not? Well, just as you like, my prince;there's liberty for all the world. Come along, Danglars, and let theyoung gentleman return to the Catalans if he chooses. "

Danglars took advantage of Caderousse's temper at the moment, to takehim off towards Marseilles by the Porte Saint-Victor, staggering as hewent.

When they had advanced about twenty yards, Danglars looked back andsaw Fernand stoop, pick up the crumpled paper, and putting it into hispocket then rush out of the arbor towards Pillon.

"Well, " said Caderousse, "why, what a lie he told! He said he was goingto the Catalans, and he is going to the city. Hallo, Fernand!"

"Oh, you don't see straight, " said Danglars; "he's gone right enough. "

"Well, " said Caderousse, "I should have said not--how treacherous wineis!"

"Come, come, " said Danglars to himself, "now the thing is at work and itwill effect its purpose unassisted. "

Chapter 5. The Marriage-Feast.

The morning's sun rose clear and resplendent, touching the foamy wavesinto a network of ruby-tinted light.

The feast had been made ready on the second floor at La Reserve, withwhose arbor the reader is already familiar. The apartment destined forthe purpose was spacious and lighted by a number of windows, over eachof which was written in golden letters for some inexplicable reason thename of one of the principal cities of France; beneath these windows awooden balcony extended the entire length of the house. And althoughthe entertainment was fixed for twelve o'clock, an hour previous tothat time the balcony was filled with impatient and expectant guests, consisting of the favored part of the crew of the Pharaon, and otherpersonal friends of the bride-groom, the whole of whom had arrayedthemselves in their choicest costumes, in order to do greater honor tothe occasion.

Various rumors were afloat to the effect that the owners of the Pharaonhad promised to attend the nuptial feast; but all seemed unanimous indoubting that an act of such rare and exceeding condescension couldpossibly be intended.

Danglars, however, who now made his appearance, accompanied byCaderousse, effectually confirmed the report, stating that he hadrecently conversed with M. Morrel, who had himself assured him of hisintention to dine at La Reserve.

In fact, a moment later M. Morrel appeared and was saluted with anenthusiastic burst of applause from the crew of the Pharaon, who hailedthe visit of the shipowner as a sure indication that the man whosewedding feast he thus delighted to honor would ere long be first incommand of the ship; and as Dantes was universally beloved on board hisvessel, the sailors put no restraint on their tumultuous joy at findingthat the opinion and choice of their superiors so exactly coincided withtheir own.

With the entrance of M. Morrel, Danglars and Caderousse were despatchedin search of the bride-groom to convey to him the intelligence of thearrival of the important personage whose coming had created such alively sensation, and to beseech him to make haste.

Danglars and Caderousse set off upon their errand at full speed; but erethey had gone many steps they perceived a group advancing towards them, composed of the betrothed pair, a party of young girls in attendance onthe bride, by whose side walked Dantes' father; the whole brought up byFernand, whose lips wore their usual sinister smile.

Neither Mercedes nor Edmond observed the strange expression of hiscountenance; they were so happy that they were conscious only of thesunshine and the presence of each other.

Having acquitted themselves of their errand, and exchanged a heartyshake of the hand with Edmond, Danglars and Caderousse took their placesbeside Fernand and old Dantes, --the latter of whom attracted universalnotice. The old man was attired in a suit of glistening watered silk, trimmed with steel buttons, beautifully cut and polished. His thinbut wiry legs were arrayed in a pair of richly embroidered clockedstockings, evidently of English manufacture, while from histhree-cornered hat depended a long streaming knot of white and blueribbons. Thus he came along, supporting himself on a curiously carvedstick, his aged countenance lit up with happiness, looking for all theworld like one of the aged dandies of 1796, parading the newly openedgardens of the Tuileries and Luxembourg. Beside him glided Caderousse, whose desire to partake of the good things provided for thewedding-party had induced him to become reconciled to the Dantes, fatherand son, although there still lingered in his mind a faint and unperfectrecollection of the events of the preceding night; just as the brainretains on waking in the morning the dim and misty outline of a dream.

As Danglars approached the disappointed lover, he cast on him a look ofdeep meaning, while Fernand, as he slowly paced behind the happy pair, who seemed, in their own unmixed content, to have entirely forgottenthat such a being as himself existed, was pale and abstracted;occasionally, however, a deep flush would overspread his countenance, and a nervous contraction distort his features, while, with an agitatedand restless gaze, he would glance in the direction of Marseilles, likeone who either anticipated or foresaw some great and important event.

Dantes himself was simply, but becomingly, clad in the dress peculiar tothe merchant service--a costume somewhat between a military and a civilgarb; and with his fine countenance, radiant with joy and happiness, amore perfect specimen of manly beauty could scarcely be imagined.

Lovely as the Greek girls of Cyprus or Chios, Mercedes boasted the samebright flashing eyes of jet, and ripe, round, coral lips. She movedwith the light, free step of an Arlesienne or an Andalusian. One morepracticed in the arts of great cities would have hid her blushes beneatha veil, or, at least, have cast down her thickly fringed lashes, so asto have concealed the liquid lustre of her animated eyes; but, on thecontrary, the delighted girl looked around her with a smile that seemedto say: "If you are my friends, rejoice with me, for I am very happy. "

As soon as the bridal party came in sight of La Reserve, M. Morreldescended and came forth to meet it, followed by the soldiers andsailors there assembled, to whom he had repeated the promise alreadygiven, that Dantes should be the successor to the late Captain Leclere. Edmond, at the approach of his patron, respectfully placed the arm ofhis affianced bride within that of M. Morrel, who, forthwith conductingher up the flight of wooden steps leading to the chamber in which thefeast was prepared, was gayly followed by the guests, beneath whoseheavy tread the slight structure creaked and groaned for the space ofseveral minutes.

"Father, " said Mercedes, stopping when she had reached the centre of thetable, "sit, I pray you, on my right hand; on my left I will place himwho has ever been as a brother to me, " pointing with a soft and gentlesmile to Fernand; but her words and look seemed to inflict the diresttorture on him, for his lips became ghastly pale, and even beneath thedark hue of his complexion the blood might be seen retreating as thoughsome sudden pang drove it back to the heart.

During this time, Dantes, at the opposite side of the table, had beenoccupied in similarly placing his most honored guests. M. Morrel wasseated at his right hand, Danglars at his left; while, at a sign fromEdmond, the rest of the company ranged themselves as they found it mostagreeable.

Then they began to pass around the dusky, piquant, Arlesian sausages, and lobsters in their dazzling red cuirasses, prawns of large size andbrilliant color, the echinus with its prickly outside and dainty morselwithin, the clovis, esteemed by the epicures of the South as more thanrivalling the exquisite flavor of the oyster, --all the delicacies, infact, that are cast up by the wash of waters on the sandy beach, andstyled by the grateful fishermen "fruits of the sea. "

"A pretty silence truly!" said the old father of the bride-groom, ashe carried to his lips a glass of wine of the hue and brightness of thetopaz, and which had just been placed before Mercedes herself. "Now, would anybody think that this room contained a happy, merry party, whodesire nothing better than to laugh and dance the hours away?"

"Ah, " sighed Caderousse, "a man cannot always feel happy because he isabout to be married. "

"The truth is, " replied Dantes, "that I am too happy for noisy mirth;if that is what you meant by your observation, my worthy friend, youare right; joy takes a strange effect at times, it seems to oppress usalmost the same as sorrow. "

Danglars looked towards Fernand, whose excitable nature received andbetrayed each fresh impression.

"Why, what ails you?" asked he of Edmond. "Do you fear any approachingevil? I should say that you were the happiest man alive at thisinstant. "

"And that is the very thing that alarms me, " returned Dantes. "Man doesnot appear to me to be intended to enjoy felicity so unmixed; happinessis like the enchanted palaces we read of in our childhood, where fierce, fiery dragons defend the entrance and approach; and monsters of allshapes and kinds, requiring to be overcome ere victory is ours. I ownthat I am lost in wonder to find myself promoted to an honor of which Ifeel myself unworthy--that of being the husband of Mercedes. "

"Nay, nay!" cried Caderousse, smiling, "you have not attained that honoryet. Mercedes is not yet your wife. Just assume the tone and manner ofa husband, and see how she will remind you that your hour is not yetcome!"

The bride blushed, while Fernand, restless and uneasy, seemed to startat every fresh sound, and from time to time wiped away the large dropsof perspiration that gathered on his brow.

"Well, never mind that, neighbor Caderousse; it is not worth while tocontradict me for such a trifle as that. 'Tis true that Mercedes is notactually my wife; but, " added he, drawing out his watch, "in an hour anda half she will be. "

A general exclamation of surprise ran round the table, with theexception of the elder Dantes, whose laugh displayed the still perfectbeauty of his large white teeth. Mercedes looked pleased and gratified, while Fernand grasped the handle of his knife with a convulsive clutch.

"In an hour?" inquired Danglars, turning pale. "How is that, my friend?"

"Why, thus it is, " replied Dantes. "Thanks to the influence of M. Morrel, to whom, next to my father, I owe every blessing I enjoy, everydifficulty his been removed. We have purchased permission to waive theusual delay; and at half-past two o'clock the mayor of Marseilles willbe waiting for us at the city hall. Now, as a quarter-past one hasalready struck, I do not consider I have asserted too much in saying, that, in another hour and thirty minutes Mercedes will have becomeMadame Dantes. "

Fernand closed his eyes, a burning sensation passed across his brow, andhe was compelled to support himself by the table to prevent his fallingfrom his chair; but in spite of all his efforts, he could not refrainfrom uttering a deep groan, which, however, was lost amid the noisyfelicitations of the company.

"Upon my word, " cried the old man, "you make short work of this kind ofaffair. Arrived here only yesterday morning, and married to-day at threeo'clock! Commend me to a sailor for going the quick way to work!"

"But, " asked Danglars, in a timid tone, "how did you manage about theother formalities--the contract--the settlement?"

"The contract, " answered Dantes, laughingly, "it didn't take long tofix that. Mercedes has no fortune; I have none to settle on her. So, yousee, our papers were quickly written out, and certainly do not come veryexpensive. " This joke elicited a fresh burst of applause.

"So that what we presumed to be merely the betrothal feast turns out tobe the actual wedding dinner!" said Danglars.

"No, no, " answered Dantes; "don't imagine I am going to put you off inthat shabby manner. To-morrow morning I start for Paris; four days togo, and the same to return, with one day to discharge the commissionintrusted to me, is all the time I shall be absent. I shall be back hereby the first of March, and on the second I give my real marriage feast. "

This prospect of fresh festivity redoubled the hilarity of the gueststo such a degree, that the elder Dantes, who, at the commencement ofthe repast, had commented upon the silence that prevailed, now foundit difficult, amid the general din of voices, to obtain a moment'stranquillity in which to drink to the health and prosperity of the brideand bride-groom.

Dantes, perceiving the affectionate eagerness of his father, respondedby a look of grateful pleasure; while Mercedes glanced at the clock andmade an expressive gesture to Edmond.

Around the table reigned that noisy hilarity which usually prevails atsuch a time among people sufficiently free from the demands ofsocial position not to feel the trammels of etiquette. Such as atthe commencement of the repast had not been able to seat themselvesaccording to their inclination rose unceremoniously, and sought out moreagreeable companions. Everybody talked at once, without waiting for areply and each one seemed to be contented with expressing his or her ownthoughts.

Fernand's paleness appeared to have communicated itself to Danglars. As for Fernand himself, he seemed to be enduring the tortures of thedamned; unable to rest, he was among the first to quit the table, and, as though seeking to avoid the hilarious mirth that rose in suchdeafening sounds, he continued, in utter silence, to pace the fartherend of the salon.

Caderousse approached him just as Danglars, whom Fernand seemed mostanxious to avoid, had joined him in a corner of the room.

"Upon my word, " said Caderousse, from whose mind the friendly treatmentof Dantes, united with the effect of the excellent wine he had partakenof, had effaced every feeling of envy or jealousy at Dantes' goodfortune, --"upon my word, Dantes is a downright good fellow, and when Isee him sitting there beside his pretty wife that is so soon to be. Icannot help thinking it would have been a great pity to have served himthat trick you were planning yesterday. "

"Oh, there was no harm meant, " answered Danglars; "at first I certainlydid feel somewhat uneasy as to what Fernand might be tempted to do; butwhen I saw how completely he had mastered his feelings, even so far asto become one of his rival's attendants, I knew there was no furthercause for apprehension. " Caderousse looked full at Fernand--he wasghastly pale.

"Certainly, " continued Danglars, "the sacrifice was no trifling one, when the beauty of the bride is concerned. Upon my soul, that futurecaptain of mine is a lucky dog! Gad, I only wish he would let me takehis place. "

"Shall we not set forth?" asked the sweet, silvery voice of Mercedes;"two o'clock has just struck, and you know we are expected in a quarterof an hour. "

"To be sure!--to be sure!" cried Dantes, eagerly quitting the table;"let us go directly!"

His words were re-echoed by the whole party, with vociferous cheers.

At this moment Danglars, who had been incessantly observing every changein Fernand's look and manner, saw him stagger and fall back, with analmost convulsive spasm, against a seat placed near one of the openwindows. At the same instant his ear caught a sort of indistinct soundon the stairs, followed by the measured tread of soldiery, with theclanking of swords and military accoutrements; then came a hum and buzzas of many voices, so as to deaden even the noisy mirth of the bridalparty, among whom a vague feeling of curiosity and apprehension quelledevery disposition to talk, and almost instantaneously the most deathlikestillness prevailed.

The sounds drew nearer. Three blows were struck upon the panel of thedoor. The company looked at each other in consternation.

"I demand admittance, " said a loud voice outside the room, "in the nameof the law!" As no attempt was made to prevent it, the door was opened, and a magistrate, wearing his official scarf, presented himself, followed by four soldiers and a corporal. Uneasiness now yielded to themost extreme dread on the part of those present.

"May I venture to inquire the reason of this unexpected visit?" saidM. Morrel, addressing the magistrate, whom he evidently knew; "there isdoubtless some mistake easily explained. "

"If it be so, " replied the magistrate, "rely upon every reparation beingmade; meanwhile, I am the bearer of an order of arrest, and although Imost reluctantly perform the task assigned me, it must, nevertheless, befulfilled. Who among the persons here assembled answers to the name ofEdmond Dantes?" Every eye was turned towards the young man who, spite ofthe agitation he could not but feel, advanced with dignity, and said, ina firm voice, "I am he; what is your pleasure with me?"

"Edmond Dantes, " replied the magistrate, "I arrest you in the name ofthe law!"

"Me!" repeated Edmond, slightly changing color, "and wherefore, I pray?"

"I cannot inform you, but you will be duly acquainted with thereasons that have rendered such a step necessary at the preliminaryexamination. "

M. Morrel felt that further resistance or remonstrance was useless. Hesaw before him an officer delegated to enforce the law, and perfectlywell knew that it would be as unavailing to seek pity from a magistratedecked with his official scarf, as to address a petition to some coldmarble effigy. Old Dantes, however, sprang forward. There are situationswhich the heart of a father or a mother cannot be made to understand. He prayed and supplicated in terms so moving, that even the officerwas touched, and, although firm in his duty, he kindly said, "My worthyfriend, let me beg of you to calm your apprehensions. Your son hasprobably neglected some prescribed form or attention in registering hiscargo, and it is more than probable he will be set at liberty directlyhe has given the information required, whether touching the health ofhis crew, or the value of his freight. "

"What is the meaning of all this?" inquired Caderousse, frowningly, ofDanglars, who had assumed an air of utter surprise.

"How can I tell you?" replied he; "I am, like yourself, utterlybewildered at all that is going on, and cannot in the least make outwhat it is about. " Caderousse then looked around for Fernand, but he haddisappeared.

The scene of the previous night now came back to his mind with startlingclearness. The painful catastrophe he had just witnessed appearedeffectually to have rent away the veil which the intoxication of theevening before had raised between himself and his memory.

"So, so, " said he, in a hoarse and choking voice, to Danglars, "this, then, I suppose, is a part of the trick you were concerting yesterday?All I can say is, that if it be so, 'tis an ill turn, and well deservesto bring double evil on those who have projected it. "

"Nonsense, " returned Danglars, "I tell you again I have nothing whateverto do with it; besides, you know very well that I tore the paper topieces. "

"No, you did not!" answered Caderousse, "you merely threw it by--I sawit lying in a corner. "

"Hold your tongue, you fool!--what should you know about it?--why, youwere drunk!"

"Where is Fernand?" inquired Caderousse.

"How do I know?" replied Danglars; "gone, as every prudent man ought tobe, to look after his own affairs, most likely. Never mind where he is, let you and I go and see what is to be done for our poor friends. "

During this conversation, Dantes, after having exchanged a cheerfulshake of the hand with all his sympathizing friends, had surrenderedhimself to the officer sent to arrest him, merely saying, "Makeyourselves quite easy, my good fellows, there is some little mistake toclear up, that's all, depend upon it; and very likely I may not have togo so far as the prison to effect that. "

"Oh, to be sure!" responded Danglars, who had now approached the group, "nothing more than a mistake, I feel quite certain. "

Dantes descended the staircase, preceded by the magistrate, and followedby the soldiers. A carriage awaited him at the door; he got in, followedby two soldiers and the magistrate, and the vehicle drove off towardsMarseilles.

"Adieu, adieu, dearest Edmond!" cried Mercedes, stretching out her armsto him from the balcony.

The prisoner heard the cry, which sounded like the sob of a brokenheart, and leaning from the coach he called out, "Good-by, Mercedes--weshall soon meet again!" Then the vehicle disappeared round one of theturnings of Fort Saint Nicholas.

"Wait for me here, all of you!" cried M. Morrel; "I will take the firstconveyance I find, and hurry to Marseilles, whence I will bring you wordhow all is going on. "

"That's right!" exclaimed a multitude of voices, "go, and return asquickly as you can!"

This second departure was followed by a long and fearful state ofterrified silence on the part of those who were left behind. The oldfather and Mercedes remained for some time apart, each absorbed ingrief; but at length the two poor victims of the same blow raised theireyes, and with a simultaneous burst of feeling rushed into each other'sarms.

Meanwhile Fernand made his appearance, poured out for himself a glassof water with a trembling hand; then hastily swallowing it, went to sitdown at the first vacant place, and this was, by mere chance, placednext to the seat on which poor Mercedes had fallen half fainting, when released from the warm and affectionate embrace of old Dantes. Instinctively Fernand drew back his chair.

"He is the cause of all this misery--I am quite sure of it, " whisperedCaderousse, who had never taken his eyes off Fernand, to Danglars.

"I don't think so, " answered the other; "he's too stupid to imagine sucha scheme. I only hope the mischief will fall upon the head of whoeverwrought it. "

"You don't mention those who aided and abetted the deed, " saidCaderousse.

"Surely, " answered Danglars, "one cannot be held responsible for everychance arrow shot into the air. "

"You can, indeed, when the arrow lights point downward on somebody'shead. "

Meantime the subject of the arrest was being canvassed in everydifferent form.

"What think you, Danglars, " said one of the party, turning towards him, "of this event?"

"Why, " replied he, "I think it just possible Dantes may have beendetected with some trifling article on board ship considered here ascontraband. "

"But how could he have done so without your knowledge, Danglars, sinceyou are the ship's supercargo?"

"Why, as for that, I could only know what I was told respecting themerchandise with which the vessel was laden. I know she was loaded withcotton, and that she took in her freight at Alexandria from Pastret'swarehouse, and at Smyrna from Pascal's; that is all I was obliged toknow, and I beg I may not be asked for any further particulars. "

"Now I recollect, " said the afflicted old father; "my poor boy told meyesterday he had got a small case of coffee, and another of tobacco forme!"

"There, you see, " exclaimed Danglars. "Now the mischief is out; dependupon it the custom-house people went rummaging about the ship in ourabsence, and discovered poor Dantes' hidden treasures. "

Mercedes, however, paid no heed to this explanation of her lover'sarrest. Her grief, which she had hitherto tried to restrain, now burstout in a violent fit of hysterical sobbing.

"Come, come, " said the old man, "be comforted, my poor child; there isstill hope!"

"Hope!" repeated Danglars.

"Hope!" faintly murmured Fernand, but the word seemed to die away on hispale agitated lips, and a convulsive spasm passed over his countenance.

"Good news! good news!" shouted forth one of the party stationed in thebalcony on the lookout. "Here comes M. Morrel back. No doubt, now, weshall hear that our friend is released!"

Mercedes and the old man rushed to meet the shipowner and greeted him atthe door. He was very pale.

"What news?" exclaimed a general burst of voices.

"Alas, my friends, " replied M. Morrel, with a mournful shake of hishead, "the thing has assumed a more serious aspect than I expected. "

"Oh, indeed--indeed, sir, he is innocent!" sobbed forth Mercedes.

"That I believe!" answered M. Morrel; "but still he is charged"--

"With what?" inquired the elder Dantes.

"With being an agent of the Bonapartist faction!" Many of our readersmay be able to recollect how formidable such an accusation became in theperiod at which our story is dated.

A despairing cry escaped the pale lips of Mercedes; the old man sankinto a chair.

"Ah, Danglars!" whispered Caderousse, "you have deceived me--the trickyou spoke of last night has been played; but I cannot suffer a poorold man or an innocent girl to die of grief through your fault. I amdetermined to tell them all about it. "

"Be silent, you simpleton!" cried Danglars, grasping him by the arm, "orI will not answer even for your own safety. Who can tell whether Dantesbe innocent or guilty? The vessel did touch at Elba, where he quittedit, and passed a whole day in the island. Now, should any letters orother documents of a compromising character be found upon him, will itnot be taken for granted that all who uphold him are his accomplices?"

With the rapid instinct of selfishness, Caderousse readily perceived thesolidity of this mode of reasoning; he gazed, doubtfully, wistfully, onDanglars, and then caution supplanted generosity.

"Suppose we wait a while, and see what comes of it, " said he, casting abewildered look on his companion.

"To be sure!" answered Danglars. "Let us wait, by all means. If he beinnocent, of course he will be set at liberty; if guilty, why, it is nouse involving ourselves in a conspiracy. "

"Let us go, then. I cannot stay here any longer. "

"With all my heart!" replied Danglars, pleased to find the other sotractable. "Let us take ourselves out of the way, and leave things forthe present to take their course. "

After their departure, Fernand, who had now again become the friend andprotector of Mercedes, led the girl to her home, while the friends ofDantes conducted the now half-fainting man back to his abode.

The rumor of Edmond's arrest as a Bonapartist agent was not slow incirculating throughout the city.

"Could you ever have credited such a thing, my dear Danglars?" asked M. Morrel, as, on his return to the port for the purpose of gleaning freshtidings of Dantes, from M. De Villefort, the assistant procureur, heovertook his supercargo and Caderousse. "Could you have believed such athing possible?"

"Why, you know I told you, " replied Danglars, "that I considered thecircumstance of his having anchored at the Island of Elba as a verysuspicious circumstance. "

"And did you mention these suspicions to any person beside myself?"

"Certainly not!" returned Danglars. Then added in a low whisper, "Youunderstand that, on account of your uncle, M. Policar Morrel, who servedunder the other government, and who does not altogether conceal whathe thinks on the subject, you are strongly suspected of regretting theabdication of Napoleon. I should have feared to injure both Edmond andyourself, had I divulged my own apprehensions to a soul. I am too wellaware that though a subordinate, like myself, is bound to acquaint theshipowner with everything that occurs, there are many things he oughtmost carefully to conceal from all else. "

"'Tis well, Danglars--'tis well!" replied M. Morrel. "You are a worthyfellow; and I had already thought of your interests in the event of poorEdmond having become captain of the Pharaon. "

"Is it possible you were so kind?"

"Yes, indeed; I had previously inquired of Dantes what was his opinionof you, and if he should have any reluctance to continue you in yourpost, for somehow I have perceived a sort of coolness between you. "

"And what was his reply?"

"That he certainly did think he had given you offence in an affairwhich he merely referred to without entering into particulars, but thatwhoever possessed the good opinion and confidence of the ship's ownerwould have his preference also. "

"The hypocrite!" murmured Danglars.

"Poor Dantes!" said Caderousse. "No one can deny his being anoble-hearted young fellow. "

"But meanwhile, " continued M. Morrel, "here is the Pharaon without acaptain. "

"Oh, " replied Danglars, "since we cannot leave this port for the nextthree months, let us hope that ere the expiration of that period Danteswill be set at liberty. "

"No doubt; but in the meantime?"

"I am entirely at your service, M. Morrel, " answered Danglars. "You knowthat I am as capable of managing a ship as the most experienced captainin the service; and it will be so far advantageous to you to accept myservices, that upon Edmond's release from prison no further change willbe requisite on board the Pharaon than for Dantes and myself each toresume our respective posts. "

"Thanks, Danglars--that will smooth over all difficulties. I fullyauthorize you at once to assume the command of the Pharaon, and lookcarefully to the unloading of her freight. Private misfortunes mustnever be allowed to interfere with business. "

"Be easy on that score, M. Morrel; but do you think we shall bepermitted to see our poor Edmond?"

"I will let you know that directly I have seen M. De Villefort, whom Ishall endeavor to interest in Edmond's favor. I am aware he is a furiousroyalist; but, in spite of that, and of his being king's attorney, he isa man like ourselves, and I fancy not a bad sort of one. "

"Perhaps not, " replied Danglars; "but I hear that he is ambitious, andthat's rather against him. "

"Well, well, " returned M. Morrel, "we shall see. But now hasten onboard, I will join you there ere long. " So saying, the worthy shipownerquitted the two allies, and proceeded in the direction of the Palais deJustice.

"You see, " said Danglars, addressing Caderousse, "the turn things havetaken. Do you still feel any desire to stand up in his defence?"

"Not the slightest, but yet it seems to me a shocking thing that a merejoke should lead to such consequences. "

"But who perpetrated that joke, let me ask? neither you nor myself, butFernand; you knew very well that I threw the paper into a corner of theroom--indeed, I fancied I had destroyed it. "

"Oh, no, " replied Caderousse, "that I can answer for, you did not. Ionly wish I could see it now as plainly as I saw it lying all crushedand crumpled in a corner of the arbor. "

"Well, then, if you did, depend upon it, Fernand picked it up, andeither copied it or caused it to be copied; perhaps, even, he did nottake the trouble of recopying it. And now I think of it, by Heavens, hemay have sent the letter itself! Fortunately, for me, the handwritingwas disguised. "

"Then you were aware of Dantes being engaged in a conspiracy?"

"Not I. As I before said, I thought the whole thing was a joke, nothingmore. It seems, however, that I have unconsciously stumbled upon thetruth. "

"Still, " argued Caderousse, "I would give a great deal if nothing of thekind had happened; or, at least, that I had had no hand in it. You willsee, Danglars, that it will turn out an unlucky job for both of us. "

"Nonsense! If any harm come of it, it should fall on the guilty person;and that, you know, is Fernand. How can we be implicated in any way?All we have got to do is, to keep our own counsel, and remain perfectlyquiet, not breathing a word to any living soul; and you will see thatthe storm will pass away without in the least affecting us. "

"Amen!" responded Caderousse, waving his hand in token of adieu toDanglars, and bending his steps towards the Allees de Meillan, movinghis head to and fro, and muttering as he went, after the manner of onewhose mind was overcharged with one absorbing idea.

"So far, then, " said Danglars, mentally, "all has gone as I would haveit. I am, temporarily, commander of the Pharaon, with the certainty ofbeing permanently so, if that fool of a Caderousse can be persuaded tohold his tongue. My only fear is the chance of Dantes being released. But, there, he is in the hands of Justice; and, " added he with a smile, "she will take her own. " So saying, he leaped into a boat, desiring tobe rowed on board the Pharaon, where M. Morrel had agreed to meet him.

Chapter 6. The Deputy Procureur du Roi.

In one of the aristocratic mansions built by Puget in the Rue du GrandCours opposite the Medusa fountain, a second marriage feast was beingcelebrated, almost at the same hour with the nuptial repast givenby Dantes. In this case, however, although the occasion of theentertainment was similar, the company was strikingly dissimilar. Instead of a rude mixture of sailors, soldiers, and those belonging tothe humblest grade of life, the present assembly was composed of thevery flower of Marseilles society, --magistrates who had resigned theiroffice during the usurper's reign; officers who had deserted from theimperial army and joined forces with Conde; and younger members offamilies, brought up to hate and execrate the man whom five years ofexile would convert into a martyr, and fifteen of restoration elevate tothe rank of a god.

The guests were still at table, and the heated and energeticconversation that prevailed betrayed the violent and vindictive passionsthat then agitated each dweller of the South, where unhappily, for fivecenturies religious strife had long given increased bitterness to theviolence of party feeling.

The emperor, now king of the petty Island of Elba, after having heldsovereign sway over one-half of the world, counting as his subjectsa small population of five or six thousand souls, --after having beenaccustomed to hear the "Vive Napoleons" of a hundred and twenty millionsof human beings, uttered in ten different languages, --was looked uponhere as a ruined man, separated forever from any fresh connection withFrance or claim to her throne.

The magistrates freely discussed their political views; the militarypart of the company talked unreservedly of Moscow and Leipsic, whilethe women commented on the divorce of Josephine. It was not over thedownfall of the man, but over the defeat of the Napoleonic idea, thatthey rejoiced, and in this they foresaw for themselves the bright andcheering prospect of a revivified political existence.

An old man, decorated with the cross of Saint Louis, now rose andproposed the health of King Louis XVIII. It was the Marquis deSaint-Meran. This toast, recalling at once the patient exile of Hartwelland the peace-loving King of France, excited universal enthusiasm;glasses were elevated in the air a l'Anglais, and the ladies, snatchingtheir bouquets from their fair bosoms, strewed the table with theirfloral treasures. In a word, an almost poetical fervor prevailed.

"Ah, " said the Marquise de Saint-Meran, a woman with a stern, forbiddingeye, though still noble and distinguished in appearance, despite herfifty years--"ah, these revolutionists, who have driven us from thosevery possessions they afterwards purchased for a mere trifle during theReign of Terror, would be compelled to own, were they here, that alltrue devotion was on our side, since we were content to follow thefortunes of a falling monarch, while they, on the contrary, made theirfortune by worshipping the rising sun; yes, yes, they could not helpadmitting that the king, for whom we sacrificed rank, wealth, andstation was truly our 'Louis the well-beloved, ' while their wretchedusurper his been, and ever will be, to them their evil genius, their'Napoleon the accursed. ' Am I not right, Villefort?"

"I beg your pardon, madame. I really must pray you to excuse me, but--intruth--I was not attending to the conversation. "

"Marquise, marquise!" interposed the old nobleman who had proposed thetoast, "let the young people alone; let me tell you, on one's weddingday there are more agreeable subjects of conversation than drypolitics. "

"Never mind, dearest mother, " said a young and lovely girl, with aprofusion of light brown hair, and eyes that seemed to float in liquidcrystal, "'tis all my fault for seizing upon M. De Villefort, so as toprevent his listening to what you said. But there--now take him--he isyour own for as long as you like. M. Villefort, I beg to remind you mymother speaks to you. "

"If the marquise will deign to repeat the words I but imperfectlycaught, I shall be delighted to answer, " said M. De Villefort.

"Never mind, Renee, " replied the marquise, with a look of tendernessthat seemed out of keeping with her harsh dry features; but, however allother feelings may be withered in a woman's nature, there is always onebright smiling spot in the desert of her heart, and that is the shrineof maternal love. "I forgive you. What I was saying, Villefort, was, that the Bonapartists had not our sincerity, enthusiasm, or devotion. "

"They had, however, what supplied the place of those fine qualities, "replied the young man, "and that was fanaticism. Napoleon is theMahomet of the West, and is worshipped by his commonplace butambitions followers, not only as a leader and lawgiver, but also as thepersonification of equality. "

"He!" cried the marquise: "Napoleon the type of equality! For mercy'ssake, then, what would you call Robespierre? Come, come, do not stripthe latter of his just rights to bestow them on the Corsican, who, to mymind, has usurped quite enough. "

"Nay, madame; I would place each of these heroes on his rightpedestal--that of Robespierre on his scaffold in the Place Louis Quinze;that of Napoleon on the column of the Place Vendome. The only differenceconsists in the opposite character of the equality advocated by thesetwo men; one is the equality that elevates, the other is the equalitythat degrades; one brings a king within reach of the guillotine, theother elevates the people to a level with the throne. Observe, " saidVillefort, smiling, "I do not mean to deny that both these men wererevolutionary scoundrels, and that the 9th Thermidor and the 4th ofApril, in the year 1814, were lucky days for France, worthy of beinggratefully remembered by every friend to monarchy and civil order;and that explains how it comes to pass that, fallen, as I trust he isforever, Napoleon has still retained a train of parasitical satellites. Still, marquise, it has been so with other usurpers--Cromwell, forinstance, who was not half so bad as Napoleon, had his partisans andadvocates. "

"Do you know, Villefort, that you are talking in a most dreadfullyrevolutionary strain? But I excuse it, it is impossible to expect theson of a Girondin to be free from a small spice of the old leaven. " Adeep crimson suffused the countenance of Villefort.

"'Tis true, madame, " answered he, "that my father was a Girondin, but hewas not among the number of those who voted for the king's death; hewas an equal sufferer with yourself during the Reign of Terror, andhad well-nigh lost his head on the same scaffold on which your fatherperished. "

"True, " replied the marquise, without wincing in the slightest degree atthe tragic remembrance thus called up; "but bear in mind, if you please, that our respective parents underwent persecution and proscription fromdiametrically opposite principles; in proof of which I may remark, thatwhile my family remained among the stanchest adherents of the exiledprinces, your father lost no time in joining the new government; andthat while the Citizen Noirtier was a Girondin, the Count Noirtierbecame a senator. "

"Dear mother, " interposed Renee, "you know very well it was agreed thatall these disagreeable reminiscences should forever be laid aside. "

"Suffer me, also, madame, " replied Villefort, "to add my earnest requestto Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran's, that you will kindly allow the veil ofoblivion to cover and conceal the past. What avails recrimination overmatters wholly past recall? For my own part, I have laid aside even thename of my father, and altogether disown his political principles. Hewas--nay, probably may still be--a Bonapartist, and is called Noirtier;I, on the contrary, am a stanch royalist, and style myself de Villefort. Let what may remain of revolutionary sap exhaust itself and die awaywith the old trunk, and condescend only to regard the young shoot whichhas started up at a distance from the parent tree, without having thepower, any more than the wish, to separate entirely from the stock fromwhich it sprung. "

"Bravo, Villefort!" cried the marquis; "excellently well said! Come, now, I have hopes of obtaining what I have been for years endeavoringto persuade the marquise to promise; namely, a perfect amnesty andforgetfulness of the past. "

"With all my heart, " replied the marquise; "let the past be foreverforgotten. I promise you it affords me as little pleasure to revive itas it does you. All I ask is, that Villefort will be firm and inflexiblefor the future in his political principles. Remember, also, Villefort, that we have pledged ourselves to his majesty for your fealty and strictloyalty, and that at our recommendation the king consented to forget thepast, as I do" (and here she extended to him her hand)--"as I now do atyour entreaty. But bear in mind, that should there fall in your way anyone guilty of conspiring against the government, you will be so much themore bound to visit the offence with rigorous punishment, as it is knownyou belong to a suspected family. "

"Alas, madame, " returned Villefort, "my profession, as well as the timesin which we live, compels me to be severe. I have already successfullyconducted several public prosecutions, and brought the offenders tomerited punishment. But we have not done with the thing yet. "

"Do you, indeed, think so?" inquired the marquise.

"I am, at least, fearful of it. Napoleon, in the Island of Elba, istoo near France, and his proximity keeps up the hopes of his partisans. Marseilles is filled with half-pay officers, who are daily, under onefrivolous pretext or other, getting up quarrels with the royalists;from hence arise continual and fatal duels among the higher classes ofpersons, and assassinations in the lower. "

"You have heard, perhaps, " said the Comte de Salvieux, one of M. DeSaint-Meran's oldest friends, and chamberlain to the Comte d'Artois, "that the Holy Alliance purpose removing him from thence?"

"Yes; they were talking about it when we left Paris, " said M. DeSaint-Meran; "and where is it decided to transfer him?"

"To Saint Helena. "

"For heaven's sake, where is that?" asked the marquise.

"An island situated on the other side of the equator, at least twothousand leagues from here, " replied the count.

"So much the better. As Villefort observes, it is a great act of follyto have left such a man between Corsica, where he was born, and Naples, of which his brother-in-law is king, and face to face with Italy, thesovereignty of which he coveted for his son. "

"Unfortunately, " said Villefort, "there are the treaties of 1814, and wecannot molest Napoleon without breaking those compacts. "

"Oh, well, we shall find some way out of it, " responded M. De Salvieux. "There wasn't any trouble over treaties when it was a question ofshooting the poor Duc d'Enghien. "

"Well, " said the marquise, "it seems probable that, by the aid of theHoly Alliance, we shall be rid of Napoleon; and we must trust to thevigilance of M. De Villefort to purify Marseilles of his partisans. Theking is either a king or no king; if he be acknowledged as sovereign ofFrance, he should be upheld in peace and tranquillity; and this can bestbe effected by employing the most inflexible agents to put down everyattempt at conspiracy--'tis the best and surest means of preventingmischief. "

"Unfortunately, madame, " answered Villefort, "the strong arm of the lawis not called upon to interfere until the evil has taken place. "

"Then all he has got to do is to endeavor to repair it. "

"Nay, madame, the law is frequently powerless to effect this; all it cando is to avenge the wrong done. "

"Oh, M. De Villefort, " cried a beautiful young creature, daughter tothe Comte de Salvieux, and the cherished friend of Mademoiselle deSaint-Meran, "do try and get up some famous trial while we are atMarseilles. I never was in a law-court; I am told it is so veryamusing!"

"Amusing, certainly, " replied the young man, "inasmuch as, instead ofshedding tears as at the fictitious tale of woe produced at a theatre, you behold in a law-court a case of real and genuine distress--a dramaof life. The prisoner whom you there see pale, agitated, and alarmed, instead of--as is the case when a curtain falls on a tragedy--going hometo sup peacefully with his family, and then retiring to rest, that hemay recommence his mimic woes on the morrow, --is removed from yoursight merely to be reconducted to his prison and delivered up to theexecutioner. I leave you to judge how far your nerves are calculated tobear you through such a scene. Of this, however, be assured, that shouldany favorable opportunity present itself, I will not fail to offer youthe choice of being present. "

"For shame, M. De Villefort!" said Renee, becoming quite pale; "don'tyou see how you are frightening us?--and yet you laugh. "

"What would you have? 'Tis like a duel. I have already recordedsentence of death, five or six times, against the movers of politicalconspiracies, and who can say how many daggers may be ready sharpened, and only waiting a favorable opportunity to be buried in my heart?"

"Gracious heavens, M. De Villefort, " said Renee, becoming more and moreterrified; "you surely are not in earnest. "

"Indeed I am, " replied the young magistrate with a smile; "and in theinteresting trial that young lady is anxious to witness, the case wouldonly be still more aggravated. Suppose, for instance, the prisoner, as is more than probable, to have served under Napoleon--well, canyou expect for an instant, that one accustomed, at the word of hiscommander, to rush fearlessly on the very bayonets of his foe, willscruple more to drive a stiletto into the heart of one he knows tobe his personal enemy, than to slaughter his fellow-creatures, merelybecause bidden to do so by one he is bound to obey? Besides, onerequires the excitement of being hateful in the eyes of the accused, inorder to lash one's self into a state of sufficient vehemence and power. I would not choose to see the man against whom I pleaded smile, asthough in mockery of my words. No; my pride is to see the accused pale, agitated, and as though beaten out of all composure by the fire of myeloquence. " Renee uttered a smothered exclamation.

"Bravo!" cried one of the guests; "that is what I call talking to somepurpose. "

"Just the person we require at a time like the present, " said a second.

"What a splendid business that last case of yours was, my dearVillefort!" remarked a third; "I mean the trial of the man for murderinghis father. Upon my word, you killed him ere the executioner had laidhis hand upon him. "

"Oh, as for parricides, and such dreadful people as that, " interposedRenee, "it matters very little what is done to them; but as regardspoor unfortunate creatures whose only crime consists in having mixedthemselves up in political intrigues"--

"Why, that is the very worst offence they could possibly commit; for, don't you see, Renee, the king is the father of his people, and he whoshall plot or contrive aught against the life and safety of the parentof thirty-two millions of souls, is a parricide upon a fearfully greatscale?"

"I don't know anything about that, " replied Renee; "but, M. DeVillefort, you have promised me--have you not?--always to show mercy tothose I plead for. "

"Make yourself quite easy on that point, " answered Villefort, withone of his sweetest smiles; "you and I will always consult upon ourverdicts. "

"My love, " said the marquise, "attend to your doves, your lap-dogs, andembroidery, but do not meddle with what you do not understand. Nowadaysthe military profession is in abeyance and the magisterial robe isthe badge of honor. There is a wise Latin proverb that is very much inpoint. "

"Cedant arma togae, " said Villefort with a bow.

"I cannot speak Latin, " responded the marquise.

"Well, " said Renee, "I cannot help regretting you had not chosen someother profession than your own--a physician, for instance. Do you know Ialways felt a shudder at the idea of even a destroying angel?"

"Dear, good Renee, " whispered Villefort, as he gazed with unutterabletenderness on the lovely speaker.

"Let us hope, my child, " cried the marquis, "that M. De Villefort mayprove the moral and political physician of this province; if so, he willhave achieved a noble work. "

"And one which will go far to efface the recollection of his father'sconduct, " added the incorrigible marquise.

"Madame, " replied Villefort, with a mournful smile, "I have already hadthe honor to observe that my father has--at least, I hope so--abjuredhis past errors, and that he is, at the present moment, a firm andzealous friend to religion and order--a better royalist, possibly, thanhis son; for he has to atone for past dereliction, while I have no otherimpulse than warm, decided preference and conviction. " Having made thiswell-turned speech, Villefort looked carefully around to mark the effectof his oratory, much as he would have done had he been addressing thebench in open court.

"Do you know, my dear Villefort, " cried the Comte de Salvieux, "thatis exactly what I myself said the other day at the Tuileries, whenquestioned by his majesty's principal chamberlain touching thesingularity of an alliance between the son of a Girondin and thedaughter of an officer of the Duc de Conde; and I assure you he seemedfully to comprehend that this mode of reconciling political differenceswas based upon sound and excellent principles. Then the king, who, without our suspecting it, had overheard our conversation, interruptedus by saying, 'Villefort'--observe that the king did not pronounce theword Noirtier, but, on the contrary, placed considerable emphasis onthat of Villefort--'Villefort, ' said his majesty, 'is a young man ofgreat judgment and discretion, who will be sure to make a figure in hisprofession; I like him much, and it gave me great pleasure to hear thathe was about to become the son-in-law of the Marquis and Marquise deSaint-Meran. I should myself have recommended the match, had not thenoble marquis anticipated my wishes by requesting my consent to it. '"

"Is it possible the king could have condescended so far as to expresshimself so favorably of me?" asked the enraptured Villefort.

"I give you his very words; and if the marquis chooses to be candid, he will confess that they perfectly agree with what his majesty said tohim, when he went six months ago to consult him upon the subject of yourespousing his daughter. "

"That is true, " answered the marquis.

"How much do I owe this gracious prince! What is there I would not do toevince my earnest gratitude!"

"That is right, " cried the marquise. "I love to see you thus. Now, then, were a conspirator to fall into your hands, he would be most welcome. "

"For my part, dear mother. " interposed Renee, "I trust your wishes willnot prosper, and that Providence will only permit petty offenders, poor debtors, and miserable cheats to fall into M. De Villefort'shands, --then I shall be contented. "

"Just the same as though you prayed that a physician might only becalled upon to prescribe for headaches, measles, and the stings ofwasps, or any other slight affection of the epidermis. If you wish tosee me the king's attorney, you must desire for me some of those violentand dangerous diseases from the cure of which so much honor redounds tothe physician. "

At this moment, and as though the utterance of Villefort's wish hadsufficed to effect its accomplishment, a servant entered the room, andwhispered a few words in his ear. Villefort immediately rose from tableand quitted the room upon the plea of urgent business; he soon, however, returned, his whole face beaming with delight. Renee regarded him withfond affection; and certainly his handsome features, lit up as they thenwere with more than usual fire and animation, seemed formed to excitethe innocent admiration with which she gazed on her graceful andintelligent lover.

"You were wishing just now, " said Villefort, addressing her, "thatI were a doctor instead of a lawyer. Well, I at least resemble thedisciples of Esculapius in one thing--that of not being able to call aday my own, not even that of my betrothal. "

"And wherefore were you called away just now?" asked Mademoiselle deSaint-Meran, with an air of deep interest.

"For a very serious matter, which bids fair to make work for theexecutioner. "

"How dreadful!" exclaimed Renee, turning pale.

"Is it possible?" burst simultaneously from all who were near enough tothe magistrate to hear his words.

"Why, if my information prove correct, a sort of Bonaparte conspiracyhas just been discovered. "

"Can I believe my ears?" cried the marquise.

"I will read you the letter containing the accusation, at least, " saidVillefort:--

"'The king's attorney is informed by a friend to the throne and thereligions institutions of his country, that one named Edmond Dantes, mate of the ship Pharaon, this day arrived from Smyrna, after havingtouched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has been the bearer of a letterfrom Murat to the usurper, and again taken charge of another letter fromthe usurper to the Bonapartist club in Paris. Ample corroboration ofthis statement may be obtained by arresting the above-mentioned EdmondDantes, who either carries the letter for Paris about with him, or hasit at his father's abode. Should it not be found in the possessionof father or son, then it will assuredly be discovered in the cabinbelonging to the said Dantes on board the Pharaon. '"

"But, " said Renee, "this letter, which, after all, is but an anonymousscrawl, is not even addressed to you, but to the king's attorney. "

"True; but that gentleman being absent, his secretary, by his orders, opened his letters; thinking this one of importance, he sent for me, but not finding me, took upon himself to give the necessary orders forarresting the accused party. "

"Then the guilty person is absolutely in custody?" said the marquise.

"Nay, dear mother, say the accused person. You know we cannot yetpronounce him guilty. "

"He is in safe custody, " answered Villefort; "and rely upon it, ifthe letter is found, he will not be likely to be trusted abroad again, unless he goes forth under the especial protection of the headsman. "

"And where is the unfortunate being?" asked Renee.

"He is at my house. "

"Come, come, my friend, " interrupted the marquise, "do not neglect yourduty to linger with us. You are the king's servant, and must go whereverthat service calls you. "

"O Villefort!" cried Renee, clasping her hands, and looking towardsher lover with piteous earnestness, "be merciful on this the day of ourbetrothal. "

The young man passed round to the side of the table where the fairpleader sat, and leaning over her chair said tenderly, --

"To give you pleasure, my sweet Renee, I promise to show all the lenityin my power; but if the charges brought against this Bonapartist heroprove correct, why, then, you really must give me leave to order hishead to be cut off. " Renee shuddered.

"Never mind that foolish girl, Villefort, " said the marquise. "She willsoon get over these things. " So saying, Madame de Saint-Meran extendedher dry bony hand to Villefort, who, while imprinting a son-in-law'srespectful salute on it, looked at Renee, as much as to say, "I must tryand fancy 'tis your dear hand I kiss, as it should have been. "

"These are mournful auspices to accompany a betrothal, " sighed poorRenee.

"Upon my word, child!" exclaimed the angry marquise, "your folly exceedsall bounds. I should be glad to know what connection there can possiblybe between your sickly sentimentality and the affairs of the state!"

"O mother!" murmured Renee.

"Nay, madame, I pray you pardon this little traitor. I promise you thatto make up for her want of loyalty, I will be most inflexibly severe;"then casting an expressive glance at his betrothed, which seemed to say, "Fear not, for your dear sake my justice shall be tempered with mercy, "and receiving a sweet and approving smile in return, Villefort quittedthe room.

Chapter 7. The Examination.

No sooner had Villefort left the salon, than he assumed the grave airof a man who holds the balance of life and death in his hands. Now, inspite of the nobility of his countenance, the command of which, like afinished actor, he had carefully studied before the glass, it was byno means easy for him to assume an air of judicial severity. Except therecollection of the line of politics his father had adopted, and whichmight interfere, unless he acted with the greatest prudence, with hisown career, Gerard de Villefort was as happy as a man could be. Alreadyrich, he held a high official situation, though only twenty-seven. He was about to marry a young and charming woman, whom he loved, notpassionately, but reasonably, as became a deputy attorney of theking; and besides her personal attractions, which were very great, Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran's family possessed considerable politicalinfluence, which they would, of course, exert in his favor. The dowryof his wife amounted to fifty thousand crowns, and he had, besides, the prospect of seeing her fortune increased to half a million at herfather's death. These considerations naturally gave Villefort a feelingof such complete felicity that his mind was fairly dazzled in itscontemplation.

At the door he met the commissary of police, who was waiting for him. The sight of this officer recalled Villefort from the third heaven toearth; he composed his face, as we have before described, and said, "Ihave read the letter, sir, and you have acted rightly in arrestingthis man; now inform me what you have discovered concerning him and theconspiracy. "

"We know nothing as yet of the conspiracy, monsieur; all the papersfound have been sealed up and placed on your desk. The prisoner himselfis named Edmond Dantes, mate on board the three-master the Pharaon, trading in cotton with Alexandria and Smyrna, and belonging to Morrel &Son, of Marseilles. "

"Before he entered the merchant service, had he ever served in themarines?"

"Oh, no, monsieur, he is very young. "

"How old?"

"Nineteen or twenty at the most. "

At this moment, and as Villefort had arrived at the corner of theRue des Conseils, a man, who seemed to have been waiting for him, approached; it was M. Morrel.

"Ah, M. De Villefort, " cried he, "I am delighted to see you. Someof your people have committed the strangest mistake--they have justarrested Edmond Dantes, mate of my vessel. "

"I know it, monsieur, " replied Villefort, "and I am now going to examinehim. "

"Oh, " said Morrel, carried away by his friendship, "you do not know him, and I do. He is the most estimable, the most trustworthy creature in theworld, and I will venture to say, there is not a better seaman in allthe merchant service. Oh, M. De Villefort, I beseech your indulgence forhim. "

Villefort, as we have seen, belonged to the aristocratic party atMarseilles, Morrel to the plebeian; the first was a royalist, the othersuspected of Bonapartism. Villefort looked disdainfully at Morrel, andreplied, --

"You are aware, monsieur, that a man may be estimable and trustworthy inprivate life, and the best seaman in the merchant service, and yet be, politically speaking, a great criminal. Is it not true?"

The magistrate laid emphasis on these words, as if he wished to applythem to the owner himself, while his eyes seemed to plunge intothe heart of one who, interceding for another, had himself need ofindulgence. Morrel reddened, for his own conscience was not quite clearon politics; besides, what Dantes had told him of his interview with thegrand-marshal, and what the emperor had said to him, embarrassed him. Hereplied, however, --

"I entreat you, M. De Villefort, be, as you always are, kind andequitable, and give him back to us soon. " This give us soundedrevolutionary in the deputy's ears.

"Ah, ah, " murmured he, "is Dantes then a member of some Carbonarisociety, that his protector thus employs the collective form? He was, ifI recollect, arrested in a tavern, in company with a great many others. "Then he added, "Monsieur, you may rest assured I shall perform my dutyimpartially, and that if he be innocent you shall not have appealedto me in vain; should he, however, be guilty, in this present epoch, impunity would furnish a dangerous example, and I must do my duty. "

As he had now arrived at the door of his own house, which adjoinedthe Palais de Justice, he entered, after having, coldly saluted theshipowner, who stood, as if petrified, on the spot where Villefort hadleft him. The ante-chamber was full of police agents and gendarmes, inthe midst of whom, carefully watched, but calm and smiling, stood theprisoner. Villefort traversed the ante-chamber, cast a side glance atDantes, and taking a packet which a gendarme offered him, disappeared, saying, "Bring in the prisoner. "

Rapid as had been Villefort's glance, it had served to give him an ideaof the man he was about to interrogate. He had recognized intelligencein the high forehead, courage in the dark eye and bent brow, andfrankness in the thick lips that showed a set of pearly teeth. Villefort's first impression was favorable; but he had been so oftenwarned to mistrust first impulses, that he applied the maxim to theimpression, forgetting the difference between the two words. He stifled, therefore, the feelings of compassion that were rising, composed hisfeatures, and sat down, grim and sombre, at his desk. An instant afterDantes entered. He was pale, but calm and collected, and saluting hisjudge with easy politeness, looked round for a seat, as if he had beenin M. Morrel's salon. It was then that he encountered for the firsttime Villefort's look, --that look peculiar to the magistrate, who, whileseeming to read the thoughts of others, betrays nothing of his own.

"Who and what are you?" demanded Villefort, turning over a pile ofpapers, containing information relative to the prisoner, that a policeagent had given to him on his entry, and that, already, in an hour'stime, had swelled to voluminous proportions, thanks to the corruptespionage of which "the accused" is always made the victim.

"My name is Edmond Dantes, " replied the young man calmly; "I am mate ofthe Pharaon, belonging to Messrs. Morrel & Son. "

"Your age?" continued Villefort.

"Nineteen, " returned Dantes.

"What were you doing at the moment you were arrested?"

"I was at the festival of my marriage, monsieur, " said the young man, his voice slightly tremulous, so great was the contrast between thathappy moment and the painful ceremony he was now undergoing; so greatwas the contrast between the sombre aspect of M. De Villefort and theradiant face of Mercedes.

"You were at the festival of your marriage?" said the deputy, shudderingin spite of himself.

"Yes, monsieur; I am on the point of marrying a young girl I have beenattached to for three years. " Villefort, impassive as he was, was struckwith this coincidence; and the tremulous voice of Dantes, surprisedin the midst of his happiness, struck a sympathetic chord in his ownbosom--he also was on the point of being married, and he was summonedfrom his own happiness to destroy that of another. "This philosophicreflection, " thought he, "will make a great sensation at M. DeSaint-Meran's;" and he arranged mentally, while Dantes awaited furtherquestions, the antithesis by which orators often create a reputation foreloquence. When this speech was arranged, Villefort turned to Dantes.

"Go on, sir, " said he.

"What would you have me say?"

"Give all the information in your power. "

"Tell me on which point you desire information, and I will tell all Iknow; only, " added he, with a smile, "I warn you I know very little. "

"Have you served under the usurper?"

"I was about to be mustered into the Royal Marines when he fell. "

"It is reported your political opinions are extreme, " said Villefort, who had never heard anything of the kind, but was not sorry to make thisinquiry, as if it were an accusation.

"My political opinions!" replied Dantes. "Alas, sir, I never had anyopinions. I am hardly nineteen; I know nothing; I have no part to play. If I obtain the situation I desire, I shall owe it to M. Morrel. Thusall my opinions--I will not say public, but private--are confined tothese three sentiments, --I love my father, I respect M. Morrel, andI adore Mercedes. This, sir, is all I can tell you, and you see howuninteresting it is. " As Dantes spoke, Villefort gazed at his ingenuousand open countenance, and recollected the words of Renee, who, withoutknowing who the culprit was, had besought his indulgence for him. Withthe deputy's knowledge of crime and criminals, every word the young manuttered convinced him more and more of his innocence. This lad, for hewas scarcely a man, --simple, natural, eloquent with that eloquence ofthe heart never found when sought for; full of affection for everybody, because he was happy, and because happiness renders even the wickedgood--extended his affection even to his judge, spite of Villefort'ssevere look and stern accent. Dantes seemed full of kindness.

"Pardieu, " said Villefort, "he is a noble fellow. I hope I shall gainRenee's favor easily by obeying the first command she ever imposed onme. I shall have at least a pressure of the hand in public, and a sweetkiss in private. " Full of this idea, Villefort's face became so joyous, that when he turned to Dantes, the latter, who had watched the change onhis physiognomy, was smiling also.

"Sir, " said Villefort, "have you any enemies, at least, that you know. "

"I have enemies?" replied Dantes; "my position is not sufficientlyelevated for that. As for my disposition, that is, perhaps, somewhattoo hasty; but I have striven to repress it. I have had ten or twelvesailors under me, and if you question them, they will tell you thatthey love and respect me, not as a father, for I am too young, but as anelder brother. "

"But you may have excited jealousy. You are about to become captain atnineteen--an elevated post; you are about to marry a pretty girl, wholoves you; and these two pieces of good fortune may have excited theenvy of some one. "

"You are right; you know men better than I do, and what you say maypossibly be the case, I confess; but if such persons are among myacquaintances I prefer not to know it, because then I should be forcedto hate them. "

"You are wrong; you should always strive to see clearly around you. Youseem a worthy young man; I will depart from the strict line of my dutyto aid you in discovering the author of this accusation. Here is thepaper; do you know the writing?" As he spoke, Villefort drew the letterfrom his pocket, and presented it to Dantes. Dantes read it. A cloudpassed over his brow as he said, --

"No, monsieur, I do not know the writing, and yet it is tolerably plain. Whoever did it writes well. I am very fortunate, " added he, lookinggratefully at Villefort, "to be examined by such a man as you; for thisenvious person is a real enemy. " And by the rapid glance that the youngman's eyes shot forth, Villefort saw how much energy lay hid beneaththis mildness.

"Now, " said the deputy, "answer me frankly, not as a prisoner to ajudge, but as one man to another who takes an interest in him, whattruth is there in the accusation contained in this anonymous letter?"And Villefort threw disdainfully on his desk the letter Dantes had justgiven back to him.

"None at all. I will tell you the real facts. I swear by my honor as asailor, by my love for Mercedes, by the life of my father"--

"Speak, monsieur, " said Villefort. Then, internally, "If Renee couldsee me, I hope she would be satisfied, and would no longer call me adecapitator. "

"Well, when we quitted Naples, Captain Leclere was attacked with a brainfever. As we had no doctor on board, and he was so anxious to arrive atElba, that he would not touch at any other port, his disorder rose tosuch a height, that at the end of the third day, feeling he was dying, he called me to him. 'My dear Dantes, ' said he, 'swear to perform what Iam going to tell you, for it is a matter of the deepest importance. '

"'I swear, captain, ' replied I.

"'Well, as after my death the command devolves on you as mate, assume the command, and bear up for the Island of Elba, disembark atPorto-Ferrajo, ask for the grand-marshal, give him this letter--perhapsthey will give you another letter, and charge you with a commission. Youwill accomplish what I was to have done, and derive all the honor andprofit from it. '

"'I will do it, captain; but perhaps I shall not be admitted to thegrand marshal's presence as easily as you expect?'

"'Here is a ring that will obtain audience of him, and remove everydifficulty, ' said the captain. At these words he gave me a ring. It wastime--two hours after he was delirious; the next day he died. "

"And what did you do then?"

"What I ought to have done, and what every one would have done in myplace. Everywhere the last requests of a dying man are sacred; but witha sailor the last requests of his superior are commands. I sailed forthe Island of Elba, where I arrived the next day; I ordered everybodyto remain on board, and went on shore alone. As I had expected, I foundsome difficulty in obtaining access to the grand-marshal; but I sent thering I had received from the captain to him, and was instantly admitted. He questioned me concerning Captain Leclere's death; and, as the latterhad told me, gave me a letter to carry on to a person in Paris. Iundertook it because it was what my captain had bade me do. I landedhere, regulated the affairs of the vessel, and hastened to visit myaffianced bride, whom I found more lovely than ever. Thanks to M. Morrel, all the forms were got over; in a word I was, as I told you, at my marriage-feast; and I should have been married in an hour, andto-morrow I intended to start for Paris, had I not been arrested on thischarge which you as well as I now see to be unjust. "

"Ah, " said Villefort, "this seems to me the truth. If you have beenculpable, it was imprudence, and this imprudence was in obedience to theorders of your captain. Give up this letter you have brought from Elba, and pass your word you will appear should you be required, and go andrejoin your friends.

"I am free, then, sir?" cried Dantes joyfully.

"Yes; but first give me this letter. "

"You have it already, for it was taken from me with some others which Isee in that packet. "

"Stop a moment, " said the deputy, as Dantes took his hat and gloves. "Towhom is it addressed?"

"To Monsieur Noirtier, Rue Coq-Heron, Paris. " Had a thunderbolt falleninto the room, Villefort could not have been more stupefied. He sankinto his seat, and hastily turning over the packet, drew forth the fatalletter, at which he glanced with an expression of terror.

"M. Noirtier, Rue Coq-Heron, No. 13, " murmured he, growing still paler.

"Yes, " said Dantes; "do you know him?"

"No, " replied Villefort; "a faithful servant of the king does not knowconspirators. "

"It is a conspiracy, then?" asked Dantes, who after believing himselffree, now began to feel a tenfold alarm. "I have, however, already toldyou, sir, I was entirely ignorant of the contents of the letter. "

"Yes; but you knew the name of the person to whom it was addressed, "said Villefort.

"I was forced to read the address to know to whom to give it. "

"Have you shown this letter to any one?" asked Villefort, becoming stillmore pale.

"To no one, on my honor. "

"Everybody is ignorant that you are the bearer of a letter from theIsland of Elba, and addressed to M. Noirtier?"

"Everybody, except the person who gave it to me. "

"And that was too much, far too much, " murmured Villefort. Villefort'sbrow darkened more and more, his white lips and clinched teeth filledDantes with apprehension. After reading the letter, Villefort coveredhis face with his hands.

"Oh, " said Dantes timidly, "what is the matter?" Villefort made noanswer, but raised his head at the expiration of a few seconds, andagain perused the letter.

"And you say that you are ignorant of the contents of this letter?"

"I give you my word of honor, sir, " said Dantes; "but what is thematter? You are ill--shall I ring for assistance?--shall I call?"

"No, " said Villefort, rising hastily; "stay where you are. It is for meto give orders here, and not you. "

"Monsieur, " replied Dantes proudly, "it was only to summon assistancefor you. "

"I want none; it was a temporary indisposition. Attend to yourself;answer me. " Dantes waited, expecting a question, but in vain. Villefortfell back on his chair, passed his hand over his brow, moist withperspiration, and, for the third time, read the letter.

"Oh, if he knows the contents of this!" murmured he, "and that Noirtieris the father of Villefort, I am lost!" And he fixed his eyes uponEdmond as if he would have penetrated his thoughts.

"Oh, it is impossible to doubt it, " cried he, suddenly.

"In heaven's name!" cried the unhappy young man, "if you doubt me, question me; I will answer you. " Villefort made a violent effort, and ina tone he strove to render firm, --

"Sir, " said he, "I am no longer able, as I had hoped, to restore youimmediately to liberty; before doing so, I must consult the trialjustice; what my own feeling is you already know. "

"Oh, monsieur, " cried Dantes, "you have been rather a friend than ajudge. "

"Well, I must detain you some time longer, but I will strive to make itas short as possible. The principal charge against you is this letter, and you see"--Villefort approached the fire, cast it in, and waiteduntil it was entirely consumed.

"You see, I destroy it?"

"Oh, " exclaimed Dantes, "you are goodness itself. "

"Listen, " continued Villefort; "you can now have confidence in me afterwhat I have done. "

"Oh, command, and I will obey. "

"Listen; this is not a command, but advice I give you. "

"Speak, and I will follow your advice. "

"I shall detain you until this evening in the Palais de Justice. Shouldany one else interrogate you, say to him what you have said to me, butdo not breathe a word of this letter. "

"I promise. " It was Villefort who seemed to entreat, and the prisonerwho reassured him.

"You see, " continued he, glancing toward the grate, where fragments ofburnt paper fluttered in the flames, "the letter is destroyed; you and Ialone know of its existence; should you, therefore, be questioned, denyall knowledge of it--deny it boldly, and you are saved. "

"Be satisfied; I will deny it. "

"It was the only letter you had?"

"It was. "

"Swear it. "

"I swear it. "

Villefort rang. A police agent entered. Villefort whispered some wordsin his ear, to which the officer replied by a motion of his head.

"Follow him, " said Villefort to Dantes. Dantes saluted Villefortand retired. Hardly had the door closed when Villefort threw himselfhalf-fainting into a chair.

"Alas, alas, " murmured he, "if the procureur himself had been atMarseilles I should have been ruined. This accursed letter would havedestroyed all my hopes. Oh, my father, must your past career alwaysinterfere with my successes?" Suddenly a light passed over his face, a smile played round his set mouth, and his haggard eyes were fixed inthought.

"This will do, " said he, "and from this letter, which might have ruinedme, I will make my fortune. Now to the work I have in hand. " And afterhaving assured himself that the prisoner was gone, the deputy procureurhastened to the house of his betrothed.

Chapter 8. The Chateau D'If.

The commissary of police, as he traversed the ante-chamber, made a signto two gendarmes, who placed themselves one on Dantes' right and theother on his left. A door that communicated with the Palais de Justicewas opened, and they went through a long range of gloomy corridors, whose appearance might have made even the boldest shudder. The Palais deJustice communicated with the prison, --a sombre edifice, that fromits grated windows looks on the clock-tower of the Accoules. Afternumberless windings, Dantes saw a door with an iron wicket. Thecommissary took up an iron mallet and knocked thrice, every blow seemingto Dantes as if struck on his heart. The door opened, the two gendarmesgently pushed him forward, and the door closed with a loud sound behindhim. The air he inhaled was no longer pure, but thick and mephitic, --hewas in prison. He was conducted to a tolerably neat chamber, but gratedand barred, and its appearance, therefore, did not greatly alarm him;besides, the words of Villefort, who seemed to interest himself somuch, resounded still in his ears like a promise of freedom. It was fouro'clock when Dantes was placed in this chamber. It was, as we have said, the 1st of March, and the prisoner was soon buried in darkness. Theobscurity augmented the acuteness of his hearing; at the slightest soundhe rose and hastened to the door, convinced they were about to liberatehim, but the sound died away, and Dantes sank again into his seat. Atlast, about ten o'clock, and just as Dantes began to despair, steps wereheard in the corridor, a key turned in the lock, the bolts creaked, the massy oaken door flew open, and a flood of light from two torchespervaded the apartment. By the torchlight Dantes saw the glitteringsabres and carbines of four gendarmes. He had advanced at first, butstopped at the sight of this display of force.

"Are you come to fetch me?" asked he.

"Yes, " replied a gendarme.

"By the orders of the deputy procureur?"

"I believe so. " The conviction that they came from M. De Villefortrelieved all Dantes' apprehensions; he advanced calmly, and placedhimself in the centre of the escort. A carriage waited at the door, thecoachman was on the box, and a police officer sat beside him.

"Is this carriage for me?" said Dantes.

"It is for you, " replied a gendarme.

Dantes was about to speak; but feeling himself urged forward, and havingneither the power nor the intention to resist, he mounted the steps, andwas in an instant seated inside between two gendarmes; the two otherstook their places opposite, and the carriage rolled heavily over thestones.

The prisoner glanced at the windows--they were grated; he had changedhis prison for another that was conveying him he knew not whither. Through the grating, however, Dantes saw they were passing through theRue Caisserie, and by the Rue Saint-Laurent and the Rue Taramis, to theport. Soon he saw the lights of La Consigne.

The carriage stopped, the officer descended, approached the guardhouse, a dozen soldiers came out and formed themselves in order; Dantes saw thereflection of their muskets by the light of the lamps on the quay.

"Can all this force be summoned on my account?" thought he.

The officer opened the door, which was locked, and, without speakinga word, answered Dantes' question; for he saw between the ranks ofthe soldiers a passage formed from the carriage to the port. The twogendarmes who were opposite to him descended first, then he was orderedto alight and the gendarmes on each side of him followed his example. They advanced towards a boat, which a custom-house officer held by achain, near the quay.

The soldiers looked at Dantes with an air of stupid curiosity. In aninstant he was placed in the stern-sheets of the boat, between thegendarmes, while the officer stationed himself at the bow; a shove sentthe boat adrift, and four sturdy oarsmen impelled it rapidly towards thePilon. At a shout from the boat, the chain that closes the mouth ofthe port was lowered and in a second they were, as Dantes knew, in theFrioul and outside the inner harbor.

The prisoner's first feeling was of joy at again breathing the pureair--for air is freedom; but he soon sighed, for he passed before LaReserve, where he had that morning been so happy, and now through theopen windows came the laughter and revelry of a ball. Dantes folded hishands, raised his eyes to heaven, and prayed fervently.

The boat continued her voyage. They had passed the Tete de Morte, were now off the Anse du Pharo, and about to double the battery. Thismanoeuvre was incomprehensible to Dantes.

"Whither are you taking me?" asked he.

"You will soon know. "

"But still"--

"We are forbidden to give you any explanation. " Dantes, trained indiscipline, knew that nothing would be more absurd than to questionsubordinates, who were forbidden to reply; and so he remained silent.

The most vague and wild thoughts passed through his mind. The boat theywere in could not make a long voyage; there was no vessel at anchoroutside the harbor; he thought, perhaps, they were going to leave him onsome distant point. He was not bound, nor had they made any attempt tohandcuff him; this seemed a good augury. Besides, had not the deputy, who had been so kind to him, told him that provided he did not pronouncethe dreaded name of Noirtier, he had nothing to apprehend? Had notVillefort in his presence destroyed the fatal letter, the only proofagainst him?

He waited silently, striving to pierce through the darkness.

They had left the Ile Ratonneau, where the lighthouse stood, on theright, and were now opposite the Point des Catalans. It seemed to theprisoner that he could distinguish a feminine form on the beach, for itwas there Mercedes dwelt. How was it that a presentiment did not warnMercedes that her lover was within three hundred yards of her?

One light alone was visible; and Dantes saw that it came from Mercedes'chamber. Mercedes was the only one awake in the whole settlement. A loudcry could be heard by her. But pride restrained him and he did not utterit. What would his guards think if they heard him shout like a madman?

He remained silent, his eyes fixed upon the light; the boat went on, butthe prisoner thought only of Mercedes. An intervening elevation of landhid the light. Dantes turned and perceived that they had got out to sea. While he had been absorbed in thought, they had shipped their oars andhoisted sail; the boat was now moving with the wind.

In spite of his repugnance to address the guards, Dantes turned to thenearest gendarme, and taking his hand, --

"Comrade, " said he, "I adjure you, as a Christian and a soldier, to tellme where we are going. I am Captain Dantes, a loyal Frenchman, thoughtaccused of treason; tell me where you are conducting me, and I promiseyou on my honor I will submit to my fate. "

The gendarme looked irresolutely at his companion, who returned foranswer a sign that said, "I see no great harm in telling him now, " andthe gendarme replied, --

"You are a native of Marseilles, and a sailor, and yet you do not knowwhere you are going?"

"On my honor, I have no idea. "

"Have you no idea whatever?"

"None at all. "

"That is impossible. "

"I swear to you it is true. Tell me, I entreat. "

"But my orders. "

"Your orders do not forbid your telling me what I must know in tenminutes, in half an hour, or an hour. You see I cannot escape, even if Iintended. "

"Unless you are blind, or have never been outside the harbor, you mustknow. "

"I do not. "

"Look round you then. " Dantes rose and looked forward, when he sawrise within a hundred yards of him the black and frowning rock on whichstands the Chateau d'If. This gloomy fortress, which has for more thanthree hundred years furnished food for so many wild legends, seemed toDantes like a scaffold to a malefactor.

"The Chateau d'If?" cried he, "what are we going there for?" Thegendarme smiled.

"I am not going there to be imprisoned, " said Dantes; "it is onlyused for political prisoners. I have committed no crime. Are there anymagistrates or judges at the Chateau d'If?"

"There are only, " said the gendarme, "a governor, a garrison, turnkeys, and good thick walls. Come, come, do not look so astonished, or youwill make me think you are laughing at me in return for my good nature. "Dantes pressed the gendarme's hand as though he would crush it.

"You think, then, " said he, "that I am taken to the Chateau d'If to beimprisoned there?"

"It is probable; but there is no occasion to squeeze so hard. "

"Without any inquiry, without any formality?"

"All the formalities have been gone through; the inquiry is alreadymade. "

"And so, in spite of M. De Villefort's promises?"

"I do not know what M. De Villefort promised you, " said the gendarme, "but I know we are taking you to the Chateau d'If. But what are youdoing? Help, comrades, help!"

By a rapid movement, which the gendarme's practiced eye had perceived, Dantes sprang forward to precipitate himself into the sea; but fourvigorous arms seized him as his feet quitted the bottom of the boat. Hefell back cursing with rage.

"Good!" said the gendarme, placing his knee on his chest; "believesoft-spoken gentlemen again! Harkye, my friend, I have disobeyed myfirst order, but I will not disobey the second; and if you move, I willblow your brains out. " And he levelled his carbine at Dantes, who feltthe muzzle against his temple.

For a moment the idea of struggling crossed his mind, and of so endingthe unexpected evil that had overtaken him. But he bethought him of M. De Villefort's promise; and, besides, death in a boat from the hand ofa gendarme seemed too terrible. He remained motionless, but gnashing histeeth and wringing his hands with fury.

At this moment the boat came to a landing with a violent shock. One ofthe sailors leaped on shore, a cord creaked as it ran through a pulley, and Dantes guessed they were at the end of the voyage, and that theywere mooring the boat.

His guards, taking him by the arms and coat-collar, forced him to rise, and dragged him towards the steps that lead to the gate of the fortress, while the police officer carrying a musket with fixed bayonet followedbehind.

Dantes made no resistance; he was like a man in a dream: he saw soldiersdrawn up on the embankment; he knew vaguely that he was ascending aflight of steps; he was conscious that he passed through a door, andthat the door closed behind him; but all this indistinctly as througha mist. He did not even see the ocean, that terrible barrier againstfreedom, which the prisoners look upon with utter despair.

They halted for a minute, during which he strove to collect histhoughts. He looked around; he was in a court surrounded by high walls;he heard the measured tread of sentinels, and as they passed before thelight he saw the barrels of their muskets shine.

They waited upwards of ten minutes. Certain Dantes could not escape, thegendarmes released him. They seemed awaiting orders. The orders came.

"Where is the prisoner?" said a voice.

"Here, " replied the gendarmes.

"Let him follow me; I will take him to his cell. "

"Go!" said the gendarmes, thrusting Dantes forward.

The prisoner followed his guide, who led him into a room almost underground, whose bare and reeking walls seemed as though impregnated withtears; a lamp placed on a stool illumined the apartment faintly, and showed Dantes the features of his conductor, an under-jailer, ill-clothed, and of sullen appearance.

"Here is your chamber for to-night, " said he. "It is late, and thegovernor is asleep. To-morrow, perhaps, he may change you. In themeantime there is bread, water, and fresh straw; and that is all aprisoner can wish for. Goodnight. " And before Dantes could open hismouth--before he had noticed where the jailer placed his bread or thewater--before he had glanced towards the corner where the straw was, the jailer disappeared, taking with him the lamp and closing the door, leaving stamped upon the prisoner's mind the dim reflection of thedripping walls of his dungeon.

Dantes was alone in darkness and in silence--cold as the shadows thathe felt breathe on his burning forehead. With the first dawn of day thejailer returned, with orders to leave Dantes where he was. He found theprisoner in the same position, as if fixed there, his eyes swollen withweeping. He had passed the night standing, and without sleep. The jaileradvanced; Dantes appeared not to perceive him. He touched him on theshoulder. Edmond started.

"Have you not slept?" said the jailer.

"I do not know, " replied Dantes. The jailer stared.

"Are you hungry?" continued he.

"I do not know. "

"Do you wish for anything?"

"I wish to see the governor. " The jailer shrugged his shoulders and leftthe chamber.

Dantes followed him with his eyes, and stretched forth his hands towardsthe open door; but the door closed. All his emotion then burst forth;he cast himself on the ground, weeping bitterly, and asking himself whatcrime he had committed that he was thus punished.

The day passed thus; he scarcely tasted food, but walked round andround the cell like a wild beast in its cage. One thought in particulartormented him: namely, that during his journey hither he had sat sostill, whereas he might, a dozen times, have plunged into the sea, and, thanks to his powers of swimming, for which he was famous, have gainedthe shore, concealed himself until the arrival of a Genoese or Spanishvessel, escaped to Spain or Italy, where Mercedes and his father couldhave joined him. He had no fears as to how he should live--good seamenare welcome everywhere. He spoke Italian like a Tuscan, and Spanish likea Castilian; he would have been free, and happy with Mercedes andhis father, whereas he was now confined in the Chateau d'If, thatimpregnable fortress, ignorant of the future destiny of his father andMercedes; and all this because he had trusted to Villefort's promise. The thought was maddening, and Dantes threw himself furiously down onhis straw. The next morning at the same hour, the jailer came again.

"Well, " said the jailer, "are you more reasonable to-day?" Dantes madeno reply.

"Come, cheer up; is there anything that I can do for you?"

"I wish to see the governor. "

"I have already told you it was impossible. "

"Why so?"

"Because it is against prison rules, and prisoners must not even ask forit. "

"What is allowed, then?"

"Better fare, if you pay for it, books, and leave to walk about. "

"I do not want books, I am satisfied with my food, and do not care towalk about; but I wish to see the governor. "

"If you worry me by repeating the same thing, I will not bring you anymore to eat. "

"Well, then, " said Edmond, "if you do not, I shall die of hunger--thatis all. "

The jailer saw by his tone he would be happy to die; and as everyprisoner is worth ten sous a day to his jailer, he replied in a moresubdued tone.

"What you ask is impossible; but if you are very well behaved you willbe allowed to walk about, and some day you will meet the governor, andif he chooses to reply, that is his affair. "

"But, " asked Dantes, "how long shall I have to wait?"

"Ah, a month--six months--a year. "

"It is too long a time. I wish to see him at once. "

"Ah, " said the jailer, "do not always brood over what is impossible, oryou will be mad in a fortnight. "

"You think so?"

"Yes; we have an instance here; it was by always offering a million offrancs to the governor for his liberty that an abbe became mad, who wasin this chamber before you. "

"How long has he left it?"

"Two years. "

"Was he liberated, then?"

"No; he was put in a dungeon. "

"Listen!" said Dantes. "I am not an abbe, I am not mad; perhaps I shallbe, but at present, unfortunately, I am not. I will make you anotheroffer. "

"What is that?"

"I do not offer you a million, because I have it not; but I will giveyou a hundred crowns if, the first time you go to Marseilles, you willseek out a young girl named Mercedes, at the Catalans, and give her twolines from me. "

"If I took them, and were detected, I should lose my place, which isworth two thousand francs a year; so that I should be a great fool torun such a risk for three hundred. "

"Well, " said Dantes, "mark this; if you refuse at least to tell MercedesI am here, I will some day hide myself behind the door, and when youenter I will dash out your brains with this stool. "

"Threats!" cried the jailer, retreating and putting himself on thedefensive; "you are certainly going mad. The abbe began like you, and inthree days you will be like him, mad enough to tie up; but, fortunately, there are dungeons here. " Dantes whirled the stool round his head.

"All right, all right, " said the jailer; "all right, since you will haveit so. I will send word to the governor. "

"Very well, " returned Dantes, dropping the stool and sitting on it as ifhe were in reality mad. The jailer went out, and returned in an instantwith a corporal and four soldiers.

"By the governor's orders, " said he, "conduct the prisoner to the tierbeneath. "

"To the dungeon, then, " said the corporal.

"Yes; we must put the madman with the madmen. " The soldiers seizedDantes, who followed passively.

He descended fifteen steps, and the door of a dungeon was opened, andhe was thrust in. The door closed, and Dantes advanced with outstretchedhands until he touched the wall; he then sat down in the corner untilhis eyes became accustomed to the darkness. The jailer was right; Danteswanted but little of being utterly mad.

Chapter 9. The Evening of the Betrothal.

Villefort had, as we have said, hastened back to Madame de Saint-Meran'sin the Place du Grand Cours, and on entering the house found that theguests whom he had left at table were taking coffee in the salon. Reneewas, with all the rest of the company, anxiously awaiting him, and hisentrance was followed by a general exclamation.

"Well, Decapitator, Guardian of the State, Royalist, Brutus, what is thematter?" said one. "Speak out. "

"Are we threatened with a fresh Reign of Terror?" asked another.

"Has the Corsican ogre broken loose?" cried a third.

"Marquise, " said Villefort, approaching his future mother-in-law, "Irequest your pardon for thus leaving you. Will the marquis honor me by afew moments' private conversation?"

"Ah, it is really a serious matter, then?" asked the marquis, remarkingthe cloud on Villefort's brow.

"So serious that I must take leave of you for a few days; so, " added he, turning to Renee, "judge for yourself if it be not important. "

"You are going to leave us?" cried Renee, unable to hide her emotion atthis unexpected announcement.

"Alas, " returned Villefort, "I must!"

"Where, then, are you going?" asked the marquise.

"That, madame, is an official secret; but if you have any commissionsfor Paris, a friend of mine is going there to-night, and will withpleasure undertake them. " The guests looked at each other.

"You wish to speak to me alone?" said the marquis.

"Yes, let us go to the library, please. " The marquis took his arm, andthey left the salon.

"Well, " asked he, as soon as they were by themselves, "tell me what itis?"

"An affair of the greatest importance, that demands my immediatepresence in Paris. Now, excuse the indiscretion, marquis, but have youany landed property?"

"All my fortune is in the funds; seven or eight hundred thousandfrancs. "

"Then sell out--sell out, marquis, or you will lose it all. "

"But how can I sell out here?"

"You have a broker, have you not?"

"Yes. "

"Then give me a letter to him, and tell him to sell out without aninstant's delay, perhaps even now I shall arrive too late. "

"The deuce you say!" replied the marquis, "let us lose no time, then!"

And, sitting down, he wrote a letter to his broker, ordering him to sellout at the market price.

"Now, then, " said Villefort, placing the letter in his pocketbook, "Imust have another!"

"To whom?"

"To the king. "

"To the king?"

"Yes. "

"I dare not write to his majesty. "

"I do not ask you to write to his majesty, but ask M. De Salvieux todo so. I want a letter that will enable me to reach the king's presencewithout all the formalities of demanding an audience; that wouldoccasion a loss of precious time. "

"But address yourself to the keeper of the seals; he has the right ofentry at the Tuileries, and can procure you audience at any hour of theday or night. "

"Doubtless; but there is no occasion to divide the honors of mydiscovery with him. The keeper would leave me in the background, andtake all the glory to himself. I tell you, marquis, my fortune is madeif I only reach the Tuileries the first, for the king will not forgetthe service I do him. "

"In that case go and get ready. I will call Salvieux and make him writethe letter. "

"Be as quick as possible, I must be on the road in a quarter of anhour. "

"Tell your coachman to stop at the door. "

"You will present my excuses to the marquise and Mademoiselle Renee, whom I leave on such a day with great regret. "

"You will find them both here, and can make your farewells in person. "

"A thousand thanks--and now for the letter. "

The marquis rang, a servant entered.

"Say to the Comte de Salvieux that I would like to see him. "

"Now, then, go, " said the marquis.

"I shall be gone only a few moments. "

Villefort hastily quitted the apartment, but reflecting that the sightof the deputy procureur running through the streets would be enough tothrow the whole city into confusion, he resumed his ordinary pace. Athis door he perceived a figure in the shadow that seemed to wait forhim. It was Mercedes, who, hearing no news of her lover, had comeunobserved to inquire after him.

As Villefort drew near, she advanced and stood before him. Dantes hadspoken of Mercedes, and Villefort instantly recognized her. Her beautyand high bearing surprised him, and when she inquired what had become ofher lover, it seemed to him that she was the judge, and he the accused.

"The young man you speak of, " said Villefort abruptly, "is a greatcriminal, and I can do nothing for him, mademoiselle. " Mercedes burstinto tears, and, as Villefort strove to pass her, again addressed him.

"But, at least, tell me where he is, that I may know whether he is aliveor dead, " said she.

"I do not know; he is no longer in my hands, " replied Villefort.

And desirous of putting an end to the interview, he pushed by her, andclosed the door, as if to exclude the pain he felt. But remorse is notthus banished; like Virgil's wounded hero, he carried the arrow in hiswound, and, arrived at the salon, Villefort uttered a sigh that wasalmost a sob, and sank into a chair.

Then the first pangs of an unending torture seized upon his heart. Theman he sacrificed to his ambition, that innocent victim immolated onthe altar of his father's faults, appeared to him pale and threatening, leading his affianced bride by the hand, and bringing with him remorse, not such as the ancients figured, furious and terrible, but that slowand consuming agony whose pangs are intensified from hour to hour upto the very moment of death. Then he had a moment's hesitation. He hadfrequently called for capital punishment on criminals, and owing to hisirresistible eloquence they had been condemned, and yet the slightestshadow of remorse had never clouded Villefort's brow, because they wereguilty; at least, he believed so; but here was an innocent man whosehappiness he had destroyed: in this case he was not the judge, but theexecutioner.

As he thus reflected, he felt the sensation we have described, and whichhad hitherto been unknown to him, arise in his bosom, and fill himwith vague apprehensions. It is thus that a wounded man tremblesinstinctively at the approach of the finger to his wound until it behealed, but Villefort's was one of those that never close, or if theydo, only close to reopen more agonizing than ever. If at this moment thesweet voice of Renee had sounded in his ears pleading for mercy, or thefair Mercedes had entered and said, "In the name of God, I conjure youto restore me my affianced husband, " his cold and trembling handswould have signed his release; but no voice broke the stillness of thechamber, and the door was opened only by Villefort's valet, who came totell him that the travelling carriage was in readiness.

Villefort rose, or rather sprang, from his chair, hastily opened oneof the drawers of his desk, emptied all the gold it contained intohis pocket, stood motionless an instant, his hand pressed to his head, muttered a few inarticulate sounds, and then, perceiving that hisservant had placed his cloak on his shoulders, he sprang into thecarriage, ordering the postilions to drive to M. De Saint-Meran's. Thehapless Dantes was doomed.

As the marquis had promised, Villefort found the marquise and Reneein waiting. He started when he saw Renee, for he fancied she was againabout to plead for Dantes. Alas, her emotions were wholly personal: shewas thinking only of Villefort's departure.

She loved Villefort, and he left her at the moment he was about tobecome her husband. Villefort knew not when he should return, and Renee, far from pleading for Dantes, hated the man whose crime separated herfrom her lover.

Meanwhile what of Mercedes? She had met Fernand at the corner of the Ruede la Loge; she had returned to the Catalans, and had despairingly castherself on her couch. Fernand, kneeling by her side, took her hand, andcovered it with kisses that Mercedes did not even feel. She passed thenight thus. The lamp went out for want of oil, but she paid no heed tothe darkness, and dawn came, but she knew not that it was day. Grief hadmade her blind to all but one object--that was Edmond.

"Ah, you are there, " said she, at length, turning towards Fernand.

"I have not quitted you since yesterday, " returned Fernand sorrowfully.

M. Morrel had not readily given up the fight. He had learned that Danteshad been taken to prison, and he had gone to all his friends, andthe influential persons of the city; but the report was already incirculation that Dantes was arrested as a Bonapartist agent; and as themost sanguine looked upon any attempt of Napoleon to remount the throneas impossible, he met with nothing but refusal, and had returned homein despair, declaring that the matter was serious and that nothing morecould be done.

Caderousse was equally restless and uneasy, but instead of seeking, likeM. Morrel, to aid Dantes, he had shut himself up with two bottles ofblack currant brandy, in the hope of drowning reflection. But he did notsucceed, and became too intoxicated to fetch any more drink, and yet notso intoxicated as to forget what had happened. With his elbows on thetable he sat between the two empty bottles, while spectres danced in thelight of the unsnuffed candle--spectres such as Hoffmann strews over hispunch-drenched pages, like black, fantastic dust.

Danglars alone was content and joyous--he had got rid of an enemy andmade his own situation on the Pharaon secure. Danglars was one of thosemen born with a pen behind the ear, and an inkstand in place of a heart. Everything with him was multiplication or subtraction. The life of a manwas to him of far less value than a numeral, especially when, by takingit away, he could increase the sum total of his own desires. He went tobed at his usual hour, and slept in peace.

Villefort, after having received M. De Salvieux' letter, embraced Renee, kissed the marquise's hand, and shaken that of the marquis, started forParis along the Aix road.

Old Dantes was dying with anxiety to know what had become of Edmond. Butwe know very well what had become of Edmond.

Chapter 10. The King's Closet at the Tuileries.

We will leave Villefort on the road to Paris, travelling--thanksto trebled fees--with all speed, and passing through two or threeapartments, enter at the Tuileries the little room with the archedwindow, so well known as having been the favorite closet of Napoleon andLouis XVIII. , and now of Louis Philippe.

There, seated before a walnut table he had brought with him fromHartwell, and to which, from one of those fancies not uncommon togreat people, he was particularly attached, the king, Louis XVIII. , wascarelessly listening to a man of fifty or fifty-two years of age, withgray hair, aristocratic bearing, and exceedingly gentlemanly attire, and meanwhile making a marginal note in a volume of Gryphius's ratherinaccurate, but much sought-after, edition of Horace--a work whichwas much indebted to the sagacious observations of the philosophicalmonarch.

"You say, sir"--said the king.

"That I am exceedingly disquieted, sire. "

"Really, have you had a vision of the seven fat kine and the seven leankine?"

"No, sire, for that would only betoken for us seven years of plenty andseven years of scarcity; and with a king as full of foresight as yourmajesty, scarcity is not a thing to be feared. "

"Then of what other scourge are you afraid, my dear Blacas?"

"Sire, I have every reason to believe that a storm is brewing in thesouth. "

"Well, my dear duke, " replied Louis XVIII. , "I think you are wronglyinformed, and know positively that, on the contrary, it is very fineweather in that direction. " Man of ability as he was, Louis XVIII. Likeda pleasant jest.

"Sire, " continued M. De Blacas, "if it only be to reassure a faithfulservant, will your majesty send into Languedoc, Provence, and Dauphine, trusty men, who will bring you back a faithful report as to the feelingin these three provinces?"

"Caninus surdis, " replied the king, continuing the annotations in hisHorace.

"Sire, " replied the courtier, laughing, in order that he might seemto comprehend the quotation, "your majesty may be perfectly right inrelying on the good feeling of France, but I fear I am not altogetherwrong in dreading some desperate attempt. "

"By whom?"

"By Bonaparte, or, at least, by his adherents. "

"My dear Blacas, " said the king, "you with your alarms prevent me fromworking. "

"And you, sire, prevent me from sleeping with your security. "

"Wait, my dear sir, wait a moment; for I have such a delightful note onthe Pastor quum traheret--wait, and I will listen to you afterwards. "

There was a brief pause, during which Louis XVIII. Wrote, in a hand assmall as possible, another note on the margin of his Horace, and thenlooking at the duke with the air of a man who thinks he has an idea ofhis own, while he is only commenting upon the idea of another, said, --

"Go on, my dear duke, go on--I listen. "

"Sire, " said Blacas, who had for a moment the hope of sacrificingVillefort to his own profit, "I am compelled to tell you that these arenot mere rumors destitute of foundation which thus disquiet me; but aserious-minded man, deserving all my confidence, and charged by me towatch over the south" (the duke hesitated as he pronounced these words), "has arrived by post to tell me that a great peril threatens the king, and so I hastened to you, sire. "

"Mala ducis avi domum, " continued Louis XVIII. , still annotating.

"Does your majesty wish me to drop the subject?"

"By no means, my dear duke; but just stretch out your hand. "

"Which?"

"Whichever you please--there to the left. "

"Here, sire?"

"I tell you to the left, and you are looking to the right; I mean on myleft--yes, there. You will find yesterday's report of the minister ofpolice. But here is M. Dandre himself;" and M. Dandre, announced by thechamberlain-in-waiting, entered.

"Come in, " said Louis XVIII. , with repressed smile, "come in, Baron, andtell the duke all you know--the latest news of M. De Bonaparte; do notconceal anything, however serious, --let us see, the Island of Elba is avolcano, and we may expect to have issuing thence flaming and bristlingwar--bella, horrida bella. " M. Dandre leaned very respectfully on theback of a chair with his two hands, and said, --

"Has your majesty perused yesterday's report?"

"Yes, yes; but tell the duke himself, who cannot find anything, what thereport contains--give him the particulars of what the usurper is doingin his islet. "

"Monsieur, " said the baron to the duke, "all the servants of his majestymust approve of the latest intelligence which we have from the Islandof Elba. Bonaparte"--M. Dandre looked at Louis XVIII. , who, employed inwriting a note, did not even raise his head. "Bonaparte, " continuedthe baron, "is mortally wearied, and passes whole days in watching hisminers at work at Porto-Longone. "

"And scratches himself for amusement, " added the king.

"Scratches himself?" inquired the duke, "what does your majesty mean?"

"Yes, indeed, my dear duke. Did you forget that this great man, thishero, this demigod, is attacked with a malady of the skin which worrieshim to death, prurigo?"

"And, moreover, my dear duke, " continued the minister of police, "we arealmost assured that, in a very short time, the usurper will be insane. "

"Insane?"

"Raving mad; his head becomes weaker. Sometimes he weeps bitterly, sometimes laughs boisterously, at other time he passes hours onthe seashore, flinging stones in the water and when the flint makes'duck-and-drake' five or six times, he appears as delighted as if he hadgained another Marengo or Austerlitz. Now, you must agree that these areindubitable symptoms of insanity. "

"Or of wisdom, my dear baron--or of wisdom, " said Louis XVIII. , laughing; "the greatest captains of antiquity amused themselvesby casting pebbles into the ocean--see Plutarch's life of ScipioAfricanus. "

M. De Blacas pondered deeply between the confident monarch and thetruthful minister. Villefort, who did not choose to reveal the wholesecret, lest another should reap all the benefit of the disclosure, hadyet communicated enough to cause him the greatest uneasiness.

"Well, well, Dandre, " said Louis XVIII. , "Blacas is not yet convinced;let us proceed, therefore, to the usurper's conversion. " The minister ofpolice bowed.

"The usurper's conversion!" murmured the duke, looking at the king andDandre, who spoke alternately, like Virgil's shepherds. "The usurperconverted!"

"Decidedly, my dear duke. "

"In what way converted?"

"To good principles. Tell him all about it, baron. "

"Why, this is the way of it, " said the minister, with the gravest air inthe world: "Napoleon lately had a review, and as two or three of hisold veterans expressed a desire to return to France, he gave them theirdismissal, and exhorted them to 'serve the good king. ' These were hisown words, of that I am certain. "

"Well, Blacas, what think you of this?" inquired the king triumphantly, and pausing for a moment from the voluminous scholiast before him.

"I say, sire, that the minister of police is greatly deceived or I am;and as it is impossible it can be the minister of police as he has theguardianship of the safety and honor of your majesty, it is probablethat I am in error. However, sire, if I might advise, your majesty willinterrogate the person of whom I spoke to you, and I will urge yourmajesty to do him this honor. "

"Most willingly, duke; under your auspices I will receive any person youplease, but you must not expect me to be too confiding. Baron, have youany report more recent than this dated the 20th February. --this is the4th of March?"

"No, sire, but I am hourly expecting one; it may have arrived since Ileft my office. "

"Go thither, and if there be none--well, well, " continued Louis XVIII. , "make one; that is the usual way, is it not?" and the king laughedfacetiously.

"Oh, sire, " replied the minister, "we have no occasion to invent any;every day our desks are loaded with most circumstantial denunciations, coming from hosts of people who hope for some return for services whichthey seek to render, but cannot; they trust to fortune, and rely uponsome unexpected event in some way to justify their predictions. "

"Well, sir, go"; said Louis XVIII. , "and remember that I am waiting foryou. "

"I will but go and return, sire; I shall be back in ten minutes. "

"And I, sire, " said M. De Blacas, "will go and find my messenger. "

"Wait, sir, wait, " said Louis XVIII. "Really, M. De Blacas, Imust change your armorial bearings; I will give you an eagle withoutstretched wings, holding in its claws a prey which tries in vain toescape, and bearing this device--Tenax. "

"Sire, I listen, " said De Blacas, biting his nails with impatience.

"I wish to consult you on this passage, 'Molli fugiens anhelitu, ' youknow it refers to a stag flying from a wolf. Are you not a sportsmanand a great wolf-hunter? Well, then, what do you think of the mollianhelitu?"

"Admirable, sire; but my messenger is like the stag you refer to, for hehas posted two hundred and twenty leagues in scarcely three days. "

"Which is undergoing great fatigue and anxiety, my dear duke, when wehave a telegraph which transmits messages in three or four hours, andthat without getting in the least out of breath. "

"Ah, sire, you recompense but badly this poor young man, who has come sofar, and with so much ardor, to give your majesty useful information. Ifonly for the sake of M. De Salvieux, who recommends him to me, I entreatyour majesty to receive him graciously. "

"M. De Salvieux, my brother's chamberlain?"

"Yes, sire. "

"He is at Marseilles. "

"And writes me thence. "

"Does he speak to you of this conspiracy?"

"No; but strongly recommends M. De Villefort, and begs me to present himto your majesty. "

"M. De Villefort!" cried the king, "is the messenger's name M. DeVillefort?"

"Yes, sire. "

"And he comes from Marseilles?"

"In person. "

"Why did you not mention his name at once?" replied the king, betrayingsome uneasiness.

"Sire, I thought his name was unknown to your majesty. "

"No, no, Blacas; he is a man of strong and elevated understanding, ambitious, too, and, pardieu, you know his father's name!"

"His father?"

"Yes, Noirtier. "

"Noirtier the Girondin?--Noirtier the senator?"

"He himself. "

"And your majesty has employed the son of such a man?"

"Blacas, my friend, you have but limited comprehension. I told youVillefort was ambitious, and to attain this ambition Villefort wouldsacrifice everything, even his father. "

"Then, sire, may I present him?"

"This instant, duke! Where is he?"

"Waiting below, in my carriage. "

"Seek him at once. "

"I hasten to do so. " The duke left the royal presence with the speed ofa young man; his really sincere royalism made him youthful again. LouisXVIII. Remained alone, and turning his eyes on his half-opened Horace, muttered, --

"Justum et tenacem propositi virum. "

M. De Blacas returned as speedily as he had departed, but in theante-chamber he was forced to appeal to the king's authority. Villefort's dusty garb, his costume, which was not of courtly cut, excited the susceptibility of M. De Breze, who was all astonishment atfinding that this young man had the audacity to enter before the kingin such attire. The duke, however, overcame all difficulties with aword--his majesty's order; and, in spite of the protestations which themaster of ceremonies made for the honor of his office and principles, Villefort was introduced.

The king was seated in the same place where the duke had left him. Onopening the door, Villefort found himself facing him, and the youngmagistrate's first impulse was to pause.

"Come in, M. De Villefort, " said the king, "come in. " Villefort bowed, and advancing a few steps, waited until the king should interrogate him.

"M. De Villefort, " said Louis XVIII. , "the Duc de Blacas assures me youhave some interesting information to communicate. "

"Sire, the duke is right, and I believe your majesty will think itequally important. "

"In the first place, and before everything else, sir, is the news as badin your opinion as I am asked to believe?"

"Sire, I believe it to be most urgent, but I hope, by the speed I haveused, that it is not irreparable. "

"Speak as fully as you please, sir, " said the king, who began to giveway to the emotion which had showed itself in Blacas's face and affectedVillefort's voice. "Speak, sir, and pray begin at the beginning; I likeorder in everything. "

"Sire, " said Villefort, "I will render a faithful report to yourmajesty, but I must entreat your forgiveness if my anxiety leads to someobscurity in my language. " A glance at the king after this discreetand subtle exordium, assured Villefort of the benignity of his augustauditor, and he went on:--

"Sire, I have come as rapidly to Paris as possible, to inform yourmajesty that I have discovered, in the exercise of my duties, not acommonplace and insignificant plot, such as is every day got up in thelower ranks of the people and in the army, but an actual conspiracy--astorm which menaces no less than your majesty's throne. Sire, theusurper is arming three ships, he meditates some project, which, howevermad, is yet, perhaps, terrible. At this moment he will have left Elba, to go whither I know not, but assuredly to attempt a landing either atNaples, or on the coast of Tuscany, or perhaps on the shores of France. Your majesty is well aware that the sovereign of the Island of Elba hasmaintained his relations with Italy and France?"

"I am, sir, " said the king, much agitated; "and recently we have hadinformation that the Bonapartist clubs have had meetings in the RueSaint-Jacques. But proceed, I beg of you. How did you obtain thesedetails?"

"Sire, they are the results of an examination which I have made of a manof Marseilles, whom I have watched for some time, and arrested on theday of my departure. This person, a sailor, of turbulent character, and whom I suspected of Bonapartism, has been secretly to the Islandof Elba. There he saw the grand-marshal, who charged him with an oralmessage to a Bonapartist in Paris, whose name I could not extract fromhim; but this mission was to prepare men's minds for a return (it is theman who says this, sire)--a return which will soon occur. "

"And where is this man?"

"In prison, sire. "

"And the matter seems serious to you?"

"So serious, sire, that when the circumstance surprised me in the midstof a family festival, on the very day of my betrothal, I left my brideand friends, postponing everything, that I might hasten to lay at yourmajesty's feet the fears which impressed me, and the assurance of mydevotion. "

"True, " said Louis XVIII. , "was there not a marriage engagement betweenyou and Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran?"

"Daughter of one of your majesty's most faithful servants. "

"Yes, yes; but let us talk of this plot, M. De Villefort. "

"Sire, I fear it is more than a plot; I fear it is a conspiracy. "

"A conspiracy in these times, " said Louis XVIII. , smiling, "is a thingvery easy to meditate, but more difficult to conduct to an end, inasmuchas, re-established so recently on the throne of our ancestors, we haveour eyes open at once upon the past, the present, and the future. Forthe last ten months my ministers have redoubled their vigilance, inorder to watch the shore of the Mediterranean. If Bonaparte landed atNaples, the whole coalition would be on foot before he could even reachPiomoino; if he land in Tuscany, he will be in an unfriendly territory;if he land in France, it must be with a handful of men, and the resultof that is easily foretold, execrated as he is by the population. Takecourage, sir; but at the same time rely on our royal gratitude. "

"Ah, here is M. Dandre!" cried de Blacas. At this instant the ministerof police appeared at the door, pale, trembling, and as if ready tofaint. Villefort was about to retire, but M. De Blacas, taking his hand, restrained him.

Chapter 11. The Corsican Ogre.

At the sight of this agitation Louis XVIII. Pushed from him violentlythe table at which he was sitting.

"What ails you, baron?" he exclaimed. "You appear quite aghast. Has youruneasiness anything to do with what M. De Blacas has told me, and M. DeVillefort has just confirmed?" M. De Blacas moved suddenly towards thebaron, but the fright of the courtier pleaded for the forbearance ofthe statesman; and besides, as matters were, it was much more to hisadvantage that the prefect of police should triumph over him than thathe should humiliate the prefect.

"Sire"--stammered the baron.

"Well, what is it?" asked Louis XVIII. The minister of police, givingway to an impulse of despair, was about to throw himself at the feet ofLouis XVIII. , who retreated a step and frowned.

"Will you speak?" he said.

"Oh, sire, what a dreadful misfortune! I am, indeed, to be pitied. I cannever forgive myself!"

"Monsieur, " said Louis XVIII. , "I command you to speak. "

"Well, sire, the usurper left Elba on the 26th February, and landed onthe 1st of March. "

"And where? In Italy?" asked the king eagerly.

"In France, sire, --at a small port, near Antibes, in the Gulf of Juan. "

"The usurper landed in France, near Antibes, in the Gulf of Juan, twohundred and fifty leagues from Paris, on the 1st of March, and you onlyacquired this information to-day, the 4th of March! Well, sir, what youtell me is impossible. You must have received a false report, or youhave gone mad. "

"Alas, sire, it is but too true!" Louis made a gesture of indescribableanger and alarm, and then drew himself up as if this sudden blow hadstruck him at the same moment in heart and countenance.

"In France!" he cried, "the usurper in France! Then they did not watchover this man. Who knows? they were, perhaps, in league with him. "

"Oh, sire, " exclaimed the Duc de Blacas, "M. Dandre is not a man to beaccused of treason! Sire, we have all been blind, and the minister ofpolice has shared the general blindness, that is all. "

"But"--said Villefort, and then suddenly checking himself, he wassilent; then he continued, "Your pardon, sire, " he said, bowing, "myzeal carried me away. Will your majesty deign to excuse me?"

"Speak, sir, speak boldly, " replied Louis. "You alone forewarned us ofthe evil; now try and aid us with the remedy. "

"Sire, " said Villefort, "the usurper is detested in the south; and itseems to me that if he ventured into the south, it would be easy toraise Languedoc and Provence against him. "

"Yes, assuredly, " replied the minister; "but he is advancing by Gap andSisteron. "

"Advancing--he is advancing!" said Louis XVIII. "Is he then advancing onParis?" The minister of police maintained a silence which was equivalentto a complete avowal.

"And Dauphine, sir?" inquired the king, of Villefort. "Do you think itpossible to rouse that as well as Provence?"

"Sire, I am sorry to tell your majesty a cruel fact; but the feelingin Dauphine is quite the reverse of that in Provence or Languedoc. Themountaineers are Bonapartists, sire. "

"Then, " murmured Louis, "he was well informed. And how many men had hewith him?"

"I do not know, sire, " answered the minister of police.

"What, you do not know! Have you neglected to obtain information on thatpoint? Of course it is of no consequence, " he added, with a witheringsmile.

"Sire, it was impossible to learn; the despatch simply stated the factof the landing and the route taken by the usurper. "

"And how did this despatch reach you?" inquired the king. The ministerbowed his head, and while a deep color overspread his cheeks, hestammered out, --

"By the telegraph, sire. "--Louis XVIII. Advanced a step, and folded hisarms over his chest as Napoleon would have done.

"So then, " he exclaimed, turning pale with anger, "seven conjoined andallied armies overthrew that man. A miracle of heaven replaced me onthe throne of my fathers after five-and-twenty years of exile. I have, during those five-and-twenty years, spared no pains to understand thepeople of France and the interests which were confided to me; and now, when I see the fruition of my wishes almost within reach, the power Ihold in my hands bursts, and shatters me to atoms!"

"Sire, it is fatality!" murmured the minister, feeling that the pressureof circumstances, however light a thing to destiny, was too much for anyhuman strength to endure.

"What our enemies say of us is then true. We have learnt nothing, forgotten nothing! If I were betrayed as he was, I would console myself;but to be in the midst of persons elevated by myself to places of honor, who ought to watch over me more carefully than over themselves, --for myfortune is theirs--before me they were nothing--after me they will benothing, and perish miserably from incapacity--ineptitude! Oh, yes, sir, you are right--it is fatality!"

The minister quailed before this outburst of sarcasm. M. De Blacas wipedthe moisture from his brow. Villefort smiled within himself, for he felthis increased importance.

"To fall, " continued King Louis, who at the first glance had sounded theabyss on which the monarchy hung suspended, --"to fall, and learn of thatfall by telegraph! Oh, I would rather mount the scaffold of my brother, Louis XVI. , than thus descend the staircase at the Tuileries driven awayby ridicule. Ridicule, sir--why, you know not its power in France, andyet you ought to know it!"

"Sire, sire, " murmured the minister, "for pity's"--

"Approach, M. De Villefort, " resumed the king, addressing the young man, who, motionless and breathless, was listening to a conversation on whichdepended the destiny of a kingdom. "Approach, and tell monsieur that itis possible to know beforehand all that he has not known. "

"Sire, it was really impossible to learn secrets which that manconcealed from all the world. "

"Really impossible! Yes--that is a great word, sir. Unfortunately, thereare great words, as there are great men; I have measured them. Reallyimpossible for a minister who has an office, agents, spies, and fifteenhundred thousand francs for secret service money, to know what is goingon at sixty leagues from the coast of France! Well, then, see, here is agentleman who had none of these resources at his disposal--a gentleman, only a simple magistrate, who learned more than you with all yourpolice, and who would have saved my crown, if, like you, he had thepower of directing a telegraph. " The look of the minister of police wasturned with concentrated spite on Villefort, who bent his head in modesttriumph.

"I do not mean that for you, Blacas, " continued Louis XVIII. ; "for ifyou have discovered nothing, at least you have had the good senseto persevere in your suspicions. Any other than yourself would haveconsidered the disclosure of M. De Villefort insignificant, or elsedictated by venal ambition, " These words were an allusion to thesentiments which the minister of police had uttered with so muchconfidence an hour before.

Villefort understood the king's intent. Any other person would, perhaps, have been overcome by such an intoxicating draught of praise; buthe feared to make for himself a mortal enemy of the police minister, although he saw that Dandre was irrevocably lost. In fact, theminister, who, in the plenitude of his power, had been unable to unearthNapoleon's secret, might in despair at his own downfall interrogateDantes and so lay bare the motives of Villefort's plot. Realizing this, Villefort came to the rescue of the crest-fallen minister, instead ofaiding to crush him.

"Sire, " said Villefort, "the suddenness of this event must prove to yourmajesty that the issue is in the hands of Providence; what your majestyis pleased to attribute to me as profound perspicacity is simply owingto chance, and I have profited by that chance, like a good and devotedservant--that's all. Do not attribute to me more than I deserve, sire, that your majesty may never have occasion to recall the first opinionyou have been pleased to form of me. " The minister of police thankedthe young man by an eloquent look, and Villefort understood that he hadsucceeded in his design; that is to say, that without forfeiting thegratitude of the king, he had made a friend of one on whom, in case ofnecessity, he might rely.

"'Tis well, " resumed the king. "And now, gentlemen, " he continued, turning towards M. De Blacas and the minister of police, "I have nofurther occasion for you, and you may retire; what now remains to do isin the department of the minister of war. "

"Fortunately, sire, " said M. De Blacas, "we can rely on the army; yourmajesty knows how every report confirms their loyalty and attachment. "

"Do not mention reports, duke, to me, for I know now what confidence toplace in them. Yet, speaking of reports, baron, what have you learnedwith regard to the affair in the Rue Saint-Jacques?"

"The affair in the Rue Saint-Jacques!" exclaimed Villefort, unable torepress an exclamation. Then, suddenly pausing, he added, "Your pardon, sire, but my devotion to your majesty has made me forget, not therespect I have, for that is too deeply engraved in my heart, but therules of etiquette. "

"Go on, go on, sir, " replied the king; "you have to-day earned the rightto make inquiries here. "

"Sire, " interposed the minister of police, "I came a moment ago to giveyour majesty fresh information which I had obtained on this head, whenyour majesty's attention was attracted by the terrible event that hasoccurred in the gulf, and now these facts will cease to interest yourmajesty. "

"On the contrary, sir, --on the contrary, " said Louis XVIII. , "thisaffair seems to me to have a decided connection with that which occupiesour attention, and the death of General Quesnel will, perhaps, put us onthe direct track of a great internal conspiracy. " At the name of GeneralQuesnel, Villefort trembled.

"Everything points to the conclusion, sire, " said the minister ofpolice, "that death was not the result of suicide, as we first believed, but of assassination. General Quesnel, it appears, had just left aBonapartist club when he disappeared. An unknown person had beenwith him that morning, and made an appointment with him in the RueSaint-Jacques; unfortunately, the general's valet, who was dressinghis hair at the moment when the stranger entered, heard the streetmentioned, but did not catch the number. " As the police minister relatedthis to the king, Villefort, who looked as if his very life hung on thespeaker's lips, turned alternately red and pale. The king looked towardshim.

"Do you not think with me, M. De Villefort, that General Quesnel, whomthey believed attached to the usurper, but who was really entirelydevoted to me, has perished the victim of a Bonapartist ambush?"

"It is probable, sire, " replied Villefort. "But is this all that isknown?"

"They are on the track of the man who appointed the meeting with him. "

"On his track?" said Villefort.

"Yes, the servant has given his description. He is a man of from fiftyto fifty-two years of age, dark, with black eyes covered with shaggyeyebrows, and a thick mustache. He was dressed in a blue frock-coat, buttoned up to the chin, and wore at his button-hole the rosette of anofficer of the Legion of Honor. Yesterday a person exactly correspondingwith this description was followed, but he was lost sight of at thecorner of the Rue de la Jussienne and the Rue Coq-Heron. " Villefortleaned on the back of an arm-chair, for as the minister of police wenton speaking he felt his legs bend under him; but when he learned thatthe unknown had escaped the vigilance of the agent who followed him, hebreathed again.

"Continue to seek for this man, sir, " said the king to the minister ofpolice; "for if, as I am all but convinced, General Quesnel, whowould have been so useful to us at this moment, has been murdered, hisassassins, Bonapartists or not, shall be cruelly punished. " It requiredall Villefort's coolness not to betray the terror with which thisdeclaration of the king inspired him.

"How strange, " continued the king, with some asperity; "the police thinkthat they have disposed of the whole matter when they say, 'A murder hasbeen committed, ' and especially so when they can add, 'And we are on thetrack of the guilty persons. '"

"Sire, your majesty will, I trust, be amply satisfied on this point atleast. "

"We shall see. I will no longer detain you, M. De Villefort, for youmust be fatigued after so long a journey; go and rest. Of course youstopped at your father's?" A feeling of faintness came over Villefort.

"No, sire, " he replied, "I alighted at the Hotel de Madrid, in the Ruede Tournon. "

"But you have seen him?"

"Sire, I went straight to the Duc de Blacas. "

"But you will see him, then?"

"I think not, sire. "

"Ah, I forgot, " said Louis, smiling in a manner which proved that allthese questions were not made without a motive; "I forgot you andM. Noirtier are not on the best terms possible, and that is anothersacrifice made to the royal cause, and for which you should berecompensed. "

"Sire, the kindness your majesty deigns to evince towards me is arecompense which so far surpasses my utmost ambition that I have nothingmore to ask for. "

"Never mind, sir, we will not forget you; make your mind easy. In themeanwhile" (the king here detached the cross of the Legion of Honorwhich he usually wore over his blue coat, near the cross of St. Louis, above the order of Notre-Dame-du-Mont-Carmel and St. Lazare, and gave itto Villefort)--"in the meanwhile take this cross. "

"Sire, " said Villefort, "your majesty mistakes; this is an officer'scross. "

"Ma foi, " said Louis XVIII. , "take it, such as it is, for I have not thetime to procure you another. Blacas, let it be your care to see that thebrevet is made out and sent to M. De Villefort. " Villefort's eyes werefilled with tears of joy and pride; he took the cross and kissed it.

"And now, " he said, "may I inquire what are the orders with which yourmajesty deigns to honor me?"

"Take what rest you require, and remember that if you are not able toserve me here in Paris, you may be of the greatest service to me atMarseilles. "

"Sire, " replied Villefort, bowing, "in an hour I shall have quittedParis. "

"Go, sir, " said the king; "and should I forget you (kings' memories areshort), do not be afraid to bring yourself to my recollection. Baron, send for the minister of war. Blacas, remain. "

"Ah, sir, " said the minister of police to Villefort, as they left theTuileries, "you entered by luck's door--your fortune is made. "

"Will it be long first?" muttered Villefort, saluting the minister, whose career was ended, and looking about him for a hackney-coach. One passed at the moment, which he hailed; he gave his address to thedriver, and springing in, threw himself on the seat, and gave loose todreams of ambition.

Ten minutes afterwards Villefort reached his hotel, ordered horses to beready in two hours, and asked to have his breakfast brought to him. Hewas about to begin his repast when the sound of the bell rang sharp andloud. The valet opened the door, and Villefort heard some one speak hisname.

"Who could know that I was here already?" said the young man. The valetentered.

"Well, " said Villefort, "what is it?--Who rang?--Who asked for me?"

"A stranger who will not send in his name. "

"A stranger who will not send in his name! What can he want with me?"

"He wishes to speak to you. "

"To me?"

"Yes. "

"Did he mention my name?"

"Yes. "

"What sort of person is he?"

"Why, sir, a man of about fifty. "

"Short or tall?"

"About your own height, sir. "

"Dark or fair?"

"Dark, --very dark; with black eyes, black hair, black eyebrows. "

"And how dressed?" asked Villefort quickly.

"In a blue frock-coat, buttoned up close, decorated with the Legion ofHonor. "

"It is he!" said Villefort, turning pale.

"Eh, pardieu, " said the individual whose description we have twicegiven, entering the door, "what a great deal of ceremony! Is it thecustom in Marseilles for sons to keep their fathers waiting in theiranterooms?"

"Father!" cried Villefort, "then I was not deceived; I felt sure it mustbe you. "

"Well, then, if you felt so sure, " replied the new-comer, putting hiscane in a corner and his hat on a chair, "allow me to say, my dearGerard, that it was not very filial of you to keep me waiting at thedoor. "

"Leave us, Germain, " said Villefort. The servant quitted the apartmentwith evident signs of astonishment.

Chapter 12. Father and Son.

M. Noirtier--for it was, indeed, he who entered--looked after theservant until the door was closed, and then, fearing, no doubt, that hemight be overheard in the ante-chamber, he opened the door again, nor was the precaution useless, as appeared from the rapid retreat ofGermain, who proved that he was not exempt from the sin which ruined ourfirst parents. M. Noirtier then took the trouble to close and bolt theante-chamber door, then that of the bed-chamber, and then extended hishand to Villefort, who had followed all his motions with surprise whichhe could not conceal.

"Well, now, my dear Gerard, " said he to the young man, with a verysignificant look, "do you know, you seem as if you were not very glad tosee me?"

"My dear father, " said Villefort, "I am, on the contrary, delighted; butI so little expected your visit, that it has somewhat overcome me. "

"But, my dear fellow, " replied M. Noirtier, seating himself, "I mightsay the same thing to you, when you announce to me your wedding for the28th of February, and on the 3rd of March you turn up here in Paris. "

"And if I have come, my dear father, " said Gerard, drawing closer toM. Noirtier, "do not complain, for it is for you that I came, and myjourney will be your salvation. "

"Ah, indeed!" said M. Noirtier, stretching himself out at his easein the chair. "Really, pray tell me all about it, for it must beinteresting. "

"Father, you have heard speak of a certain Bonapartist club in the RueSaint-Jacques?"

"No. 53; yes, I am vice-president. "

"Father, your coolness makes me shudder. "

"Why, my dear boy, when a man has been proscribed by the mountaineers, has escaped from Paris in a hay-cart, been hunted over the plains ofBordeaux by Robespierre's bloodhounds, he becomes accustomed to mostthings. But go on, what about the club in the Rue Saint-Jacques?"

"Why, they induced General Quesnel to go there, and General Quesnel, whoquitted his own house at nine o'clock in the evening, was found the nextday in the Seine. "

"And who told you this fine story?"

"The king himself. "

"Well, then, in return for your story, " continued Noirtier, "I will tellyou another. "

"My dear father, I think I already know what you are about to tell me. "

"Ah, you have heard of the landing of the emperor?"

"Not so loud, father, I entreat of you--for your own sake as well asmine. Yes, I heard this news, and knew it even before you could; forthree days ago I posted from Marseilles to Paris with all possiblespeed, half-desperate at the enforced delay. "

"Three days ago? You are crazy. Why, three days ago the emperor had notlanded. "

"No matter, I was aware of his intention. "

"How did you know about it?"

"By a letter addressed to you from the Island of Elba. "

"To me?"

"To you; and which I discovered in the pocket-book of the messenger. Hadthat letter fallen into the hands of another, you, my dear father, wouldprobably ere this have been shot. " Villefort's father laughed.

"Come, come, " said he, "will the Restoration adopt imperial methods sopromptly? Shot, my dear boy? What an idea! Where is the letter you speakof? I know you too well to suppose you would allow such a thing to passyou. "

"I burnt it, for fear that even a fragment should remain; for thatletter must have led to your condemnation. "

"And the destruction of your future prospects, " replied Noirtier; "yes, I can easily comprehend that. But I have nothing to fear while I haveyou to protect me. "

"I do better than that, sir--I save you. "

"You do? Why, really, the thing becomes more and more dramatic--explainyourself. "

"I must refer again to the club in the Rue Saint-Jacques. "

"It appears that this club is rather a bore to the police. Why didn'tthey search more vigilantly? they would have found"--

"They have not found; but they are on the track. "

"Yes, that the usual phrase; I am quite familiar with it. When thepolice is at fault, it declares that it is on the track; and thegovernment patiently awaits the day when it comes to say, with asneaking air, that the track is lost. "

"Yes, but they have found a corpse; the general has been killed, and inall countries they call that a murder. "

"A murder do you call it? why, there is nothing to prove that thegeneral was murdered. People are found every day in the Seine, havingthrown themselves in, or having been drowned from not knowing how toswim. "

"Father, you know very well that the general was not a man to drownhimself in despair, and people do not bathe in the Seine in the month ofJanuary. No, no, do not be deceived; this was murder in every sense ofthe word. "

"And who thus designated it?"

"The king himself. "

"The king! I thought he was philosopher enough to allow that there wasno murder in politics. In politics, my dear fellow, you know, as wellas I do, there are no men, but ideas--no feelings, but interests; inpolitics we do not kill a man, we only remove an obstacle, that is all. Would you like to know how matters have progressed? Well, I will tellyou. It was thought reliance might be placed in General Quesnel; he wasrecommended to us from the Island of Elba; one of us went to him, andinvited him to the Rue Saint-Jacques, where he would find some friends. He came there, and the plan was unfolded to him for leaving Elba, theprojected landing, etc. When he had heard and comprehended all to thefullest extent, he replied that he was a royalist. Then all looked ateach other, --he was made to take an oath, and did so, but with such anill grace that it was really tempting Providence to swear him, and yet, in spite of that, the general was allowed to depart free--perfectlyfree. Yet he did not return home. What could that mean? why, my dearfellow, that on leaving us he lost his way, that's all. A murder?really, Villefort, you surprise me. You, a deputy procureur, to foundan accusation on such bad premises! Did I ever say to you, when you werefulfilling your character as a royalist, and cut off the head of one ofmy party, 'My son, you have committed a murder?' No, I said, 'Very well, sir, you have gained the victory; to-morrow, perchance, it will be ourturn. '"

"But, father, take care; when our turn comes, our revenge will besweeping. "

"I do not understand you. "

"You rely on the usurper's return?"

"We do. "

"You are mistaken; he will not advance two leagues into the interior ofFrance without being followed, tracked, and caught like a wild beast. "

"My dear fellow, the emperor is at this moment on the way to Grenoble;on the 10th or 12th he will be at Lyons, and on the 20th or 25th atParis. "

"The people will rise. "

"Yes, to go and meet him. "

"He has but a handful of men with him, and armies will be despatchedagainst him. "

"Yes, to escort him into the capital. Really, my dear Gerard, you arebut a child; you think yourself well informed because the telegraphhas told you, three days after the landing, 'The usurper has landed atCannes with several men. He is pursued. ' But where is he? what is hedoing? You do not know at all, and in this way they will chase him toParis, without drawing a trigger. "

"Grenoble and Lyons are faithful cities, and will oppose to him animpassable barrier. "

"Grenoble will open her gates to him with enthusiasm--all Lyons willhasten to welcome him. Believe me, we are as well informed as you, andour police are as good as your own. Would you like a proof of it? well, you wished to conceal your journey from me, and yet I knew of yourarrival half an hour after you had passed the barrier. You gave yourdirection to no one but your postilion, yet I have your address, and inproof I am here the very instant you are going to sit at table. Ring, then, if you please, for a second knife, fork, and plate, and we willdine together. "

"Indeed!" replied Villefort, looking at his father with astonishment, "you really do seem very well informed. "

"Eh? the thing is simple enough. You who are in power have only themeans that money produces--we who are in expectation, have those whichdevotion prompts. "

"Devotion!" said Villefort, with a sneer.

"Yes, devotion; for that is, I believe, the phrase for hopefulambition. "

And Villefort's father extended his hand to the bell-rope, to summon theservant whom his son had not called. Villefort caught his arm.

"Wait, my dear father, " said the young man, "one word more. "

"Say on. "

"However stupid the royalist police may be, they do know one terriblething. "

"What is that?"

"The description of the man who, on the morning of the day when GeneralQuesnel disappeared, presented himself at his house. "

"Oh, the admirable police have found that out, have they? And what maybe that description?"

"Dark complexion; hair, eyebrows, and whiskers, black; blue frock-coat, buttoned up to the chin; rosette of an officer of the Legion of Honor inhis button-hole; a hat with wide brim, and a cane. "

"Ah, ha, that's it, is it?" said Noirtier; "and why, then, have they notlaid hands on him?"

"Because yesterday, or the day before, they lost sight of him at thecorner of the Rue Coq-Heron. "

"Didn't I say that your police were good for nothing?"

"Yes; but they may catch him yet. "

"True, " said Noirtier, looking carelessly around him, "true, if thisperson were not on his guard, as he is;" and he added with a smile, "Hewill consequently make a few changes in his personal appearance. " Atthese words he rose, and put off his frock-coat and cravat, went towardsa table on which lay his son's toilet articles, lathered his face, took a razor, and, with a firm hand, cut off the compromising whiskers. Villefort watched him with alarm not devoid of admiration.

His whiskers cut off, Noirtier gave another turn to his hair; took, instead of his black cravat, a colored neckerchief which lay at the topof an open portmanteau; put on, in lieu of his blue and high-buttonedfrock-coat, a coat of Villefort's of dark brown, and cut away in front;tried on before the glass a narrow-brimmed hat of his son's, whichappeared to fit him perfectly, and, leaving his cane in the corner wherehe had deposited it, he took up a small bamboo switch, cut the air withit once or twice, and walked about with that easy swagger which was oneof his principal characteristics.

"Well, " he said, turning towards his wondering son, when this disguisewas completed, "well, do you think your police will recognize me now. "

"No, father, " stammered Villefort; "at least, I hope not. "

"And now, my dear boy, " continued Noirtier, "I rely on your prudence toremove all the things which I leave in your care. "

"Oh, rely on me, " said Villefort.

"Yes, yes; and now I believe you are right, and that you have reallysaved my life; be assured I will return the favor hereafter. " Villefortshook his head.

"You are not convinced yet?"

"I hope at least, that you may be mistaken. "

"Shall you see the king again?"

"Perhaps. "

"Would you pass in his eyes for a prophet?"

"Prophets of evil are not in favor at the court, father. "

"True, but some day they do them justice; and supposing a secondrestoration, you would then pass for a great man. "

"Well, what should I say to the king?"

"Say this to him: 'Sire, you are deceived as to the feeling in France, as to the opinions of the towns, and the prejudices of the army; hewhom in Paris you call the Corsican ogre, who at Nevers is styledthe usurper, is already saluted as Bonaparte at Lyons, and emperor atGrenoble. You think he is tracked, pursued, captured; he is advancingas rapidly as his own eagles. The soldiers you believe to be dying withhunger, worn out with fatigue, ready to desert, gather like atoms ofsnow about the rolling ball as it hastens onward. Sire, go, leave Franceto its real master, to him who acquired it, not by purchase, but byright of conquest; go, sire, not that you incur any risk, for youradversary is powerful enough to show you mercy, but because it would behumiliating for a grandson of Saint Louis to owe his life to the man ofArcola, Marengo, Austerlitz. ' Tell him this, Gerard; or, rather, tellhim nothing. Keep your journey a secret; do not boast of what youhave come to Paris to do, or have done; return with all speed; enterMarseilles at night, and your house by the back-door, and there remain, quiet, submissive, secret, and, above all, inoffensive; for this time, Iswear to you, we shall act like powerful men who know their enemies. Go, my son--go, my dear Gerard, and by your obedience to my paternal orders, or, if you prefer it, friendly counsels, we will keep you in your place. This will be, " added Noirtier, with a smile, "one means by which youmay a second time save me, if the political balance should some day takeanother turn, and cast you aloft while hurling me down. Adieu, my dearGerard, and at your next journey alight at my door. " Noirtier left theroom when he had finished, with the same calmness that had characterizedhim during the whole of this remarkable and trying conversation. Villefort, pale and agitated, ran to the window, put aside the curtain, and saw him pass, cool and collected, by two or three ill-looking men atthe corner of the street, who were there, perhaps, to arrest a man withblack whiskers, and a blue frock-coat, and hat with broad brim.

Villefort stood watching, breathless, until his father had disappearedat the Rue Bussy. Then he turned to the various articles he had leftbehind him, put the black cravat and blue frock-coat at the bottom ofthe portmanteau, threw the hat into a dark closet, broke the cane intosmall bits and flung it in the fire, put on his travelling-cap, andcalling his valet, checked with a look the thousand questions he wasready to ask, paid his bill, sprang into his carriage, which was ready, learned at Lyons that Bonaparte had entered Grenoble, and in themidst of the tumult which prevailed along the road, at length reachedMarseilles, a prey to all the hopes and fears which enter into the heartof man with ambition and its first successes.

Chapter 13. The Hundred Days.

M. Noirtier was a true prophet, and things progressed rapidly, as he hadpredicted. Every one knows the history of the famous return from Elba, a return which was unprecedented in the past, and will probably remainwithout a counterpart in the future.

Louis XVIII. Made but a faint attempt to parry this unexpected blow;the monarchy he had scarcely reconstructed tottered on its precariousfoundation, and at a sign from the emperor the incongruous structureof ancient prejudices and new ideas fell to the ground. Villefort, therefore, gained nothing save the king's gratitude (which was ratherlikely to injure him at the present time) and the cross of the Legion ofHonor, which he had the prudence not to wear, although M. De Blacas hadduly forwarded the brevet.

Napoleon would, doubtless, have deprived Villefort of his office hadit not been for Noirtier, who was all powerful at court, and thus theGirondin of '93 and the Senator of 1806 protected him who so latelyhad been his protector. All Villefort's influence barely enabled him tostifle the secret Dantes had so nearly divulged. The king's procureuralone was deprived of his office, being suspected of royalism.

However, scarcely was the imperial power established--that is, scarcelyhad the emperor re-entered the Tuileries and begun to issue orders fromthe closet into which we have introduced our readers, --he found on thetable there Louis XVIII. 's half-filled snuff-box, --scarcely had thisoccurred when Marseilles began, in spite of the authorities, to rekindlethe flames of civil war, always smouldering in the south, and itrequired but little to excite the populace to acts of far greaterviolence than the shouts and insults with which they assailed theroyalists whenever they ventured abroad.

Owing to this change, the worthy shipowner became at that moment--wewill not say all powerful, because Morrel was a prudent and rathera timid man, so much so, that many of the most zealous partisans ofBonaparte accused him of "moderation"--but sufficiently influential tomake a demand in favor of Dantes.

Villefort retained his place, but his marriage was put off until a morefavorable opportunity. If the emperor remained on the throne, Gerardrequired a different alliance to aid his career; if Louis XVIII. Returned, the influence of M. De Saint-Meran, like his own, couldbe vastly increased, and the marriage be still more suitable. Thedeputy-procureur was, therefore, the first magistrate of Marseilles, when one morning his door opened, and M. Morrel was announced.

Any one else would have hastened to receive him; but Villefort was a manof ability, and he knew this would be a sign of weakness. He made Morrelwait in the ante-chamber, although he had no one with him, for thesimple reason that the king's procureur always makes every one wait, andafter passing a quarter of an hour in reading the papers, he ordered M. Morrel to be admitted.

Morrel expected Villefort would be dejected; he found him as he hadfound him six weeks before, calm, firm, and full of that glacialpoliteness, that most insurmountable barrier which separates thewell-bred from the vulgar man.

He had entered Villefort's office expecting that the magistrate wouldtremble at the sight of him; on the contrary, he felt a cold shudder allover him when he saw Villefort sitting there with his elbow on his desk, and his head leaning on his hand. He stopped at the door; Villefortgazed at him as if he had some difficulty in recognizing him; then, after a brief interval, during which the honest shipowner turned his hatin his hands, --

"M. Morrel, I believe?" said Villefort.

"Yes, sir. "

"Come nearer, " said the magistrate, with a patronizing wave of the hand, "and tell me to what circumstance I owe the honor of this visit. "

"Do you not guess, monsieur?" asked Morrel.

"Not in the least; but if I can serve you in any way I shall bedelighted. "

"Everything depends on you. "

"Explain yourself, pray. "

"Monsieur, " said Morrel, recovering his assurance as he proceeded, "doyou recollect that a few days before the landing of his majesty theemperor, I came to intercede for a young man, the mate of my ship, whowas accused of being concerned in correspondence with the Island ofElba? What was the other day a crime is to-day a title to favor. Youthen served Louis XVIII. , and you did not show any favor--it was yourduty; to-day you serve Napoleon, and you ought to protect him--it isequally your duty; I come, therefore, to ask what has become of him?"

Villefort by a strong effort sought to control himself. "What is hisname?" said he. "Tell me his name. "

"Edmond Dantes. "

Villefort would probably have rather stood opposite the muzzle of apistol at five-and-twenty paces than have heard this name spoken; but hedid not blanch.

"Dantes, " repeated he, "Edmond Dantes. "

"Yes, monsieur. " Villefort opened a large register, then went to atable, from the table turned to his registers, and then, turning toMorrel, --

"Are you quite sure you are not mistaken, monsieur?" said he, in themost natural tone in the world.

Had Morrel been a more quick-sighted man, or better versed in thesematters, he would have been surprised at the king's procureur answeringhim on such a subject, instead of referring him to the governors of theprison or the prefect of the department. But Morrel, disappointed inhis expectations of exciting fear, was conscious only of the other'scondescension. Villefort had calculated rightly.

"No, " said Morrel; "I am not mistaken. I have known him for ten years, the last four of which he was in my service. Do not you recollect, Icame about six weeks ago to plead for clemency, as I come to-day toplead for justice. You received me very coldly. Oh, the royalists werevery severe with the Bonapartists in those days. "

"Monsieur, " returned Villefort, "I was then a royalist, because Ibelieved the Bourbons not only the heirs to the throne, but the chosenof the nation. The miraculous return of Napoleon has conquered me, thelegitimate monarch is he who is loved by his people. "

"That's right!" cried Morrel. "I like to hear you speak thus, and Iaugur well for Edmond from it. "

"Wait a moment, " said Villefort, turning over the leaves of a register;"I have it--a sailor, who was about to marry a young Catalan girl. Irecollect now; it was a very serious charge. "

"How so?"

"You know that when he left here he was taken to the Palais de Justice. "

"Well?"

"I made my report to the authorities at Paris, and a week after he wascarried off. "

"Carried off!" said Morrel. "What can they have done with him?"

"Oh, he has been taken to Fenestrelles, to Pignerol, or to theSainte-Marguerite islands. Some fine morning he will return to takecommand of your vessel. "

"Come when he will, it shall be kept for him. But how is it he is notalready returned? It seems to me the first care of government should beto set at liberty those who have suffered for their adherence to it. "

"Do not be too hasty, M. Morrel, " replied Villefort. "The order ofimprisonment came from high authority, and the order for his liberationmust proceed from the same source; and, as Napoleon has scarcely beenreinstated a fortnight, the letters have not yet been forwarded. "

"But, " said Morrel, "is there no way of expediting all theseformalities--of releasing him from arrest?"

"There has been no arrest. "

"How?"

"It is sometimes essential to government to cause a man's disappearancewithout leaving any traces, so that no written forms or documents maydefeat their wishes. "

"It might be so under the Bourbons, but at present"--

"It has always been so, my dear Morrel, since the reign of Louis XIV. The emperor is more strict in prison discipline than even Louis himself, and the number of prisoners whose names are not on the register isincalculable. " Had Morrel even any suspicions, so much kindness wouldhave dispelled them.

"Well, M. De Villefort, how would you advise me to act?" asked he.

"Petition the minister. "

"Oh, I know what that is; the minister receives two hundred petitionsevery day, and does not read three. "

"That is true; but he will read a petition countersigned and presentedby me. "

"And will you undertake to deliver it?"

"With the greatest pleasure. Dantes was then guilty, and now he isinnocent, and it is as much my duty to free him as it was to condemnhim. " Villefort thus forestalled any danger of an inquiry, which, however improbable it might be, if it did take place would leave himdefenceless.

"But how shall I address the minister?"

"Sit down there, " said Villefort, giving up his place to Morrel, "andwrite what I dictate. "

"Will you be so good?"

"Certainly. But lose no time; we have lost too much already. "

"That is true. Only think what the poor fellow may even now besuffering. " Villefort shuddered at the suggestion; but he had gonetoo far to draw back. Dantes must be crushed to gratify Villefort'sambition.

Villefort dictated a petition, in which, from an excellent intention, nodoubt, Dantes' patriotic services were exaggerated, and he was made outone of the most active agents of Napoleon's return. It was evident thatat the sight of this document the minister would instantly release him. The petition finished, Villefort read it aloud.

"That will do, " said he; "leave the rest to me. "

"Will the petition go soon?"

"To-day. "

"Countersigned by you?"

"The best thing I can do will be to certify the truth of the contentsof your petition. " And, sitting down, Villefort wrote the certificate atthe bottom.

"What more is to be done?"

"I will do whatever is necessary. " This assurance delighted Morrel, whotook leave of Villefort, and hastened to announce to old Dantes that hewould soon see his son.

As for Villefort, instead of sending to Paris, he carefully preservedthe petition that so fearfully compromised Dantes, in the hopes of anevent that seemed not unlikely, --that is, a second restoration. Dantesremained a prisoner, and heard not the noise of the fall of LouisXVIII. 's throne, or the still more tragic destruction of the empire.

Twice during the Hundred Days had Morrel renewed his demand, and twicehad Villefort soothed him with promises. At last there was Waterloo, and Morrel came no more; he had done all that was in his power, and anyfresh attempt would only compromise himself uselessly.

Louis XVIII. Remounted the throne; Villefort, to whom Marseilleshad become filled with remorseful memories, sought and obtained thesituation of king's procureur at Toulouse, and a fortnight afterwardshe married Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran, whose father now stood higher atcourt than ever.

And so Dantes, after the Hundred Days and after Waterloo, remained inhis dungeon, forgotten of earth and heaven. Danglars comprehended thefull extent of the wretched fate that overwhelmed Dantes; and, whenNapoleon returned to France, he, after the manner of mediocre minds, termed the coincidence, "a decree of Providence. " But when Napoleonreturned to Paris, Danglars' heart failed him, and he lived in constantfear of Dantes' return on a mission of vengeance. He therefore informedM. Morrel of his wish to quit the sea, and obtained a recommendationfrom him to a Spanish merchant, into whose service he entered at the endof March, that is, ten or twelve days after Napoleon's return. He thenleft for Madrid, and was no more heard of.

Fernand understood nothing except that Dantes was absent. What hadbecome of him he cared not to inquire. Only, during the respite theabsence of his rival afforded him, he reflected, partly on the means ofdeceiving Mercedes as to the cause of his absence, partly on plans ofemigration and abduction, as from time to time he sat sad and motionlesson the summit of Cape Pharo, at the spot from whence Marseilles andthe Catalans are visible, watching for the apparition of a young andhandsome man, who was for him also the messenger of vengeance. Fernand'smind was made up; he would shoot Dantes, and then kill himself. ButFernand was mistaken; a man of his disposition never kills himself, forhe constantly hopes.

During this time the empire made its last conscription, and every manin France capable of bearing arms rushed to obey the summons of theemperor. Fernand departed with the rest, bearing with him the terriblethought that while he was away, his rival would perhaps return and marryMercedes. Had Fernand really meant to kill himself, he would have doneso when he parted from Mercedes. His devotion, and the compassion heshowed for her misfortunes, produced the effect they always produce onnoble minds--Mercedes had always had a sincere regard for Fernand, andthis was now strengthened by gratitude.

"My brother, " said she as she placed his knapsack on his shoulders, "be careful of yourself, for if you are killed, I shall be alone in theworld. " These words carried a ray of hope into Fernand's heart. ShouldDantes not return, Mercedes might one day be his.

Mercedes was left alone face to face with the vast plain that had neverseemed so barren, and the sea that had never seemed so vast. Bathed intears she wandered about the Catalan village. Sometimes she stood muteand motionless as a statue, looking towards Marseilles, at other timesgazing on the sea, and debating as to whether it were not better to castherself into the abyss of the ocean, and thus end her woes. It wasnot want of courage that prevented her putting this resolution intoexecution; but her religious feelings came to her aid and saved her. Caderousse was, like Fernand, enrolled in the army, but, being marriedand eight years older, he was merely sent to the frontier. Old Dantes, who was only sustained by hope, lost all hope at Napoleon's downfall. Five months after he had been separated from his son, and almost at thehour of his arrest, he breathed his last in Mercedes' arms. M. Morrelpaid the expenses of his funeral, and a few small debts the poor old manhad contracted.

There was more than benevolence in this action; there was courage; thesouth was aflame, and to assist, even on his death-bed, the father of sodangerous a Bonapartist as Dantes, was stigmatized as a crime.

Chapter 14. The Two Prisoners.

A year after Louis XVIII. 's restoration, a visit was made by theinspector-general of prisons. Dantes in his cell heard the noise ofpreparation, --sounds that at the depth where he lay would have beeninaudible to any but the ear of a prisoner, who could hear the splash ofthe drop of water that every hour fell from the roof of his dungeon. Heguessed something uncommon was passing among the living; but he had solong ceased to have any intercourse with the world, that he looked uponhimself as dead.

The inspector visited, one after another, the cells and dungeons ofseveral of the prisoners, whose good behavior or stupidity recommendedthem to the clemency of the government. He inquired how they were fed, and if they had any request to make. The universal response was, thatthe fare was detestable, and that they wanted to be set free.

The inspector asked if they had anything else to ask for. They shooktheir heads. What could they desire beyond their liberty? The inspectorturned smilingly to the governor.

"I do not know what reason government can assign for these uselessvisits; when you see one prisoner, you see all, --always the samething, --ill fed and innocent. Are there any others?"

"Yes; the dangerous and mad prisoners are in the dungeons. "

"Let us visit them, " said the inspector with an air of fatigue. "We mustplay the farce to the end. Let us see the dungeons. "

"Let us first send for two soldiers, " said the governor. "The prisonerssometimes, through mere uneasiness of life, and in order to be sentencedto death, commit acts of useless violence, and you might fall a victim. "

"Take all needful precautions, " replied the inspector.

Two soldiers were accordingly sent for, and the inspector descendeda stairway, so foul, so humid, so dark, as to be loathsome to sight, smell, and respiration.

"Oh, " cried the inspector, "who can live here?"

"A most dangerous conspirator, a man we are ordered to keep the moststrict watch over, as he is daring and resolute. "

"He is alone?"

"Certainly. "

"How long his he been there?"

"Nearly a year. "

"Was he placed here when he first arrived?"

"No; not until he attempted to kill the turnkey, who took his food tohim. "

"To kill the turnkey?"

"Yes, the very one who is lighting us. Is it not true, Antoine?" askedthe governor.

"True enough; he wanted to kill me!" returned the turnkey.

"He must be mad, " said the inspector.

"He is worse than that, --he is a devil!" returned the turnkey.

"Shall I complain of him?" demanded the inspector.

"Oh, no; it is useless. Besides, he is almost mad now, and in anotheryear he will be quite so. "

"So much the better for him, --he will suffer less, " said the inspector. He was, as this remark shows, a man full of philanthropy, and in everyway fit for his office.

"You are right, sir, " replied the governor; "and this remark proves thatyou have deeply considered the subject. Now we have in a dungeon abouttwenty feet distant, and to which you descend by another stair, an abbe, formerly leader of a party in Italy, who has been here since 1811, andin 1813 he went mad, and the change is astonishing. He used to weep, henow laughs; he grew thin, he now grows fat. You had better see him, forhis madness is amusing. "

"I will see them both, " returned the inspector; "I must conscientiouslyperform my duty. " This was the inspector's first visit; he wished todisplay his authority.

"Let us visit this one first, " added he.

"By all means, " replied the governor, and he signed to the turnkey toopen the door. At the sound of the key turning in the lock, and thecreaking of the hinges, Dantes, who was crouched in a corner of thedungeon, whence he could see the ray of light that came through a narrowiron grating above, raised his head. Seeing a stranger, escorted by twoturnkeys holding torches and accompanied by two soldiers, and to whomthe governor spoke bareheaded, Dantes, who guessed the truth, and thatthe moment to address himself to the superior authorities was come, sprang forward with clasped hands.

The soldiers interposed their bayonets, for they thought that he wasabout to attack the inspector, and the latter recoiled two or threesteps. Dantes saw that he was looked upon as dangerous. Then, infusingall the humility he possessed into his eyes and voice, he addressed theinspector, and sought to inspire him with pity.

The inspector listened attentively; then, turning to the governor, observed, "He will become religious--he is already more gentle; he isafraid, and retreated before the bayonets--madmen are not afraid ofanything; I made some curious observations on this at Charenton. " Then, turning to the prisoner, "What is it you want?" said he.

"I want to know what crime I have committed--to be tried; and if I amguilty, to be shot; if innocent, to be set at liberty. "

"Are you well fed?" said the inspector.

"I believe so; I don't know; it's of no consequence. What mattersreally, not only to me, but to officers of justice and the king, is thatan innocent man should languish in prison, the victim of an infamousdenunciation, to die here cursing his executioners. "

"You are very humble to-day, " remarked the governor; "you are notso always; the other day, for instance, when you tried to kill theturnkey. "

"It is true, sir, and I beg his pardon, for he his always been very goodto me, but I was mad. "

"And you are not so any longer?"

"No; captivity has subdued me--I have been here so long. "

"So long?--when were you arrested, then?" asked the inspector.

"The 28th of February, 1815, at half-past two in the afternoon. "

"To-day is the 30th of July, 1816, --why it is but seventeen months. "

"Only seventeen months, " replied Dantes. "Oh, you do not know what isseventeen months in prison!--seventeen ages rather, especially to a manwho, like me, had arrived at the summit of his ambition--to a man, who, like me, was on the point of marrying a woman he adored, who saw anhonorable career opened before him, and who loses all in an instant--whosees his prospects destroyed, and is ignorant of the fate of hisaffianced wife, and whether his aged father be still living! Seventeenmonths captivity to a sailor accustomed to the boundless ocean, is aworse punishment than human crime ever merited. Have pity on me, then, and ask for me, not intelligence, but a trial; not pardon, but averdict--a trial, sir, I ask only for a trial; that, surely, cannot bedenied to one who is accused!"

"We shall see, " said the inspector; then, turning to the governor, "Onmy word, the poor devil touches me. You must show me the proofs againsthim. "

"Certainly; but you will find terrible charges. "

"Monsieur, " continued Dantes, "I know it is not in your power to releaseme; but you can plead for me--you can have me tried--and that is allI ask. Let me know my crime, and the reason why I was condemned. Uncertainty is worse than all. "

"Go on with the lights, " said the inspector.

"Monsieur, " cried Dantes, "I can tell by your voice you are touched withpity; tell me at least to hope. "

"I cannot tell you that, " replied the inspector; "I can only promise toexamine into your case. "

"Oh, I am free--then I am saved!"

"Who arrested you?"

"M. Villefort. See him, and hear what he says. "

"M. Villefort is no longer at Marseilles; he is now at Toulouse. "

"I am no longer surprised at my detention, " murmured Dantes, "since myonly protector is removed. "

"Had M. De Villefort any cause of personal dislike to you?"

"None; on the contrary, he was very kind to me. "

"I can, then, rely on the notes he has left concerning you?"

"Entirely. "

"That is well; wait patiently, then. " Dantes fell on his knees, andprayed earnestly. The door closed; but this time a fresh inmate was leftwith Dantes--hope.

"Will you see the register at once, " asked the governor, "or proceed tothe other cell?"

"Let us visit them all, " said the inspector. "If I once went up thosestairs. I should never have the courage to come down again. "

"Ah, this one is not like the other, and his madness is less affectingthan this one's display of reason. "

"What is his folly?"

"He fancies he possesses an immense treasure. The first year he offeredgovernment a million of francs for his release; the second, two; thethird, three; and so on progressively. He is now in his fifth year ofcaptivity; he will ask to speak to you in private, and offer you fivemillions. "

"How curious!--what is his name?"

"The Abbe Faria. "

"No. 27, " said the inspector.

"It is here; unlock the door, Antoine. " The turnkey obeyed, and theinspector gazed curiously into the chamber of the "mad abbe. "

In the centre of the cell, in a circle traced with a fragment of plasterdetached from the wall, sat a man whose tattered garments scarcelycovered him. He was drawing in this circle geometrical lines, and seemedas much absorbed in his problem as Archimedes was when the soldier ofMarcellus slew him.

He did not move at the sound of the door, and continued his calculationsuntil the flash of the torches lighted up with an unwonted glare thesombre walls of his cell; then, raising his head, he perceived withastonishment the number of persons present. He hastily seized thecoverlet of his bed, and wrapped it round him.

"What is it you want?" said the inspector.

"I, monsieur, " replied the abbe with an air of surprise--"I wantnothing. "

"You do not understand, " continued the inspector; "I am sent here bygovernment to visit the prison, and hear the requests of the prisoners. "

"Oh, that is different, " cried the abbe; "and we shall understand eachother, I hope. "

"There, now, " whispered the governor, "it is just as I told you. "

"Monsieur, " continued the prisoner, "I am the Abbe Faria, born at Rome. I was for twenty years Cardinal Spada's secretary; I was arrested, why, I know not, toward the beginning of the year 1811; since then I havedemanded my liberty from the Italian and French government. "

"Why from the French government?"

"Because I was arrested at Piombino, and I presume that, like Milan andFlorence, Piombino has become the capital of some French department. "

"Ah, " said the inspector, "you have not the latest news from Italy?"

"My information dates from the day on which I was arrested, " returnedthe Abbe Faria; "and as the emperor had created the kingdom of Rome forhis infant son, I presume that he has realized the dream of Machiavelliand Caesar Borgia, which was to make Italy a united kingdom. "

"Monsieur, " returned the inspector, "providence has changed thisgigantic plan you advocate so warmly. "

"It is the only means of rendering Italy strong, happy, andindependent. "

"Very possibly; only I am not come to discuss politics, but to inquireif you have anything to ask or to complain of. "

"The food is the same as in other prisons, --that is, very bad; thelodging is very unhealthful, but, on the whole, passable for a dungeon;but it is not that which I wish to speak of, but a secret I have toreveal of the greatest importance. "

"We are coming to the point, " whispered the governor.

"It is for that reason I am delighted to see you, " continued the abbe, "although you have disturbed me in a most important calculation, which, if it succeeded, would possibly change Newton's system. Could you allowme a few words in private. "

"What did I tell you?" said the governor.

"You knew him, " returned the inspector with a smile.

"What you ask is impossible, monsieur, " continued he, addressing Faria.

"But, " said the abbe, "I would speak to you of a large sum, amounting tofive millions. "

"The very sum you named, " whispered the inspector in his turn.

"However, " continued Faria, seeing that the inspector was about todepart, "it is not absolutely necessary for us to be alone; the governorcan be present. "

"Unfortunately, " said the governor, "I know beforehand what you areabout to say; it concerns your treasures, does it not?" Faria fixed hiseyes on him with an expression that would have convinced any one else ofhis sanity.

"Of course, " said he; "of what else should I speak?"

"Mr. Inspector, " continued the governor, "I can tell you the story aswell as he, for it has been dinned in my ears for the last four or fiveyears. "

"That proves, " returned the abbe, "that you are like those of Holy Writ, who having ears hear not, and having eyes see not. "

"My dear sir, the government is rich and does not want your treasures, "replied the inspector; "keep them until you are liberated. " The abbe'seyes glistened; he seized the inspector's hand.

"But what if I am not liberated, " cried he, "and am detained here untilmy death? this treasure will be lost. Had not government better profitby it? I will offer six millions, and I will content myself with therest, if they will only give me my liberty. "

"On my word, " said the inspector in a low tone, "had I not been toldbeforehand that this man was mad, I should believe what he says. "

"I am not mad, " replied Faria, with that acuteness of hearing peculiarto prisoners. "The treasure I speak of really exists, and I offer tosign an agreement with you, in which I promise to lead you to the spotwhere you shall dig; and if I deceive you, bring me here again, --I askno more. "

The governor laughed. "Is the spot far from here?"

"A hundred leagues. "

"It is not ill-planned, " said the governor. "If all the prisoners tookit into their heads to travel a hundred leagues, and their guardiansconsented to accompany them, they would have a capital chance ofescaping. "

"The scheme is well known, " said the inspector; "and the abbe's plan hasnot even the merit of originality. "

Then turning to Faria--"I inquired if you are well fed?" said he.

"Swear to me, " replied Faria, "to free me if what I tell you prove true, and I will stay here while you go to the spot. "

"Are you well fed?" repeated the inspector.

"Monsieur, you run no risk, for, as I told you, I will stay here; sothere is no chance of my escaping. "

"You do not reply to my question, " replied the inspector impatiently.

"Nor you to mine, " cried the abbe. "You will not accept my gold; I willkeep it for myself. You refuse me my liberty; God will give it me. " Andthe abbe, casting away his coverlet, resumed his place, and continuedhis calculations.

"What is he doing there?" said the inspector.

"Counting his treasures, " replied the governor.

Faria replied to this sarcasm with a glance of profound contempt. Theywent out. The turnkey closed the door behind them.

"He was wealthy once, perhaps?" said the inspector.

"Or dreamed he was, and awoke mad. "

"After all, " said the inspector, "if he had been rich, he would not havebeen here. " So the matter ended for the Abbe Faria. He remained in hiscell, and this visit only increased the belief in his insanity.

Caligula or Nero, those treasure-seekers, those desirers of theimpossible, would have accorded to the poor wretch, in exchange for hiswealth, the liberty he so earnestly prayed for. But the kings of moderntimes, restrained by the limits of mere probability, have neithercourage nor desire. They fear the ear that hears their orders, and theeye that scrutinizes their actions. Formerly they believed themselvessprung from Jupiter, and shielded by their birth; but nowadays they arenot inviolable.

It has always been against the policy of despotic governments to sufferthe victims of their persecutions to reappear. As the Inquisition rarelyallowed its victims to be seen with their limbs distorted and theirflesh lacerated by torture, so madness is always concealed in its cell, from whence, should it depart, it is conveyed to some gloomy hospital, where the doctor has no thought for man or mind in the mutilated beingthe jailer delivers to him. The very madness of the Abbe Faria, gone madin prison, condemned him to perpetual captivity.

The inspector kept his word with Dantes; he examined the register, andfound the following note concerning him:--

Edmond Dantes:

Violent Bonapartist; took an active part in the return from Elba.

The greatest watchfulness and care to be exercised.

This note was in a different hand from the rest, which showed that ithad been added since his confinement. The inspector could not contendagainst this accusation; he simply wrote, --"Nothing to be done. "

This visit had infused new vigor into Dantes; he had, till then, forgotten the date; but now, with a fragment of plaster, he wrote thedate, 30th July, 1816, and made a mark every day, in order not to losehis reckoning again. Days and weeks passed away, then months--Dantesstill waited; he at first expected to be freed in a fortnight. Thisfortnight expired, he decided that the inspector would do nothing untilhis return to Paris, and that he would not reach there until his circuitwas finished, he therefore fixed three months; three months passedaway, then six more. Finally ten months and a half had gone by andno favorable change had taken place, and Dantes began to fancy theinspector's visit but a dream, an illusion of the brain.

At the expiration of a year the governor was transferred; he hadobtained charge of the fortress at Ham. He took with him several of hissubordinates, and amongst them Dantes' jailer. A new governor arrived;it would have been too tedious to acquire the names of the prisoners;he learned their numbers instead. This horrible place contained fiftycells; their inhabitants were designated by the numbers of their cell, and the unhappy young man was no longer called Edmond Dantes--he was nownumber 34.

Chapter 15. Number 34 and Number 27.

Dantes passed through all the stages of torture natural to prisoners insuspense. He was sustained at first by that pride of conscious innocencewhich is the sequence to hope; then he began to doubt his own innocence, which justified in some measure the governor's belief in his mentalalienation; and then, relaxing his sentiment of pride, he addressed hissupplications, not to God, but to man. God is always the last resource. Unfortunates, who ought to begin with God, do not have any hope in himtill they have exhausted all other means of deliverance.

Dantes asked to be removed from his present dungeon into another; fora change, however disadvantageous, was still a change, and would affordhim some amusement. He entreated to be allowed to walk about, to havefresh air, books, and writing materials. His requests were not granted, but he went on asking all the same. He accustomed himself to speaking tothe new jailer, although the latter was, if possible, more taciturnthan the old one; but still, to speak to a man, even though mute, wassomething. Dantes spoke for the sake of hearing his own voice; he hadtried to speak when alone, but the sound of his voice terrified him. Often, before his captivity, Dantes' mind had revolted at the idea ofassemblages of prisoners, made up of thieves, vagabonds, and murderers. He now wished to be amongst them, in order to see some other facebesides that of his jailer; he sighed for the galleys, with the infamouscostume, the chain, and the brand on the shoulder. The galley-slavesbreathed the fresh air of heaven, and saw each other. They were veryhappy. He besought the jailer one day to let him have a companion, wereit even the mad abbe.

The jailer, though rough and hardened by the constant sight of so muchsuffering, was yet a man. At the bottom of his heart he had often had afeeling of pity for this unhappy young man who suffered so; and he laidthe request of number 34 before the governor; but the latter sapientlyimagined that Dantes wished to conspire or attempt an escape, andrefused his request. Dantes had exhausted all human resources, and hethen turned to God.

All the pious ideas that had been so long forgotten, returned; herecollected the prayers his mother had taught him, and discovered a newmeaning in every word; for in prosperity prayers seem but a meremedley of words, until misfortune comes and the unhappy sufferer firstunderstands the meaning of the sublime language in which he invokes thepity of heaven! He prayed, and prayed aloud, no longer terrified atthe sound of his own voice, for he fell into a sort of ecstasy. Helaid every action of his life before the Almighty, proposed tasks toaccomplish, and at the end of every prayer introduced the entreatyoftener addressed to man than to God: "Forgive us our trespasses aswe forgive them that trespass against us. " Yet in spite of his earnestprayers, Dantes remained a prisoner.

Then gloom settled heavily upon him. Dantes was a man of greatsimplicity of thought, and without education; he could not, therefore, in the solitude of his dungeon, traverse in mental vision the history ofthe ages, bring to life the nations that had perished, and rebuild theancient cities so vast and stupendous in the light of the imagination, and that pass before the eye glowing with celestial colors in Martin'sBabylonian pictures. He could not do this, he whose past life was soshort, whose present so melancholy, and his future so doubtful. Nineteenyears of light to reflect upon in eternal darkness! No distraction couldcome to his aid; his energetic spirit, that would have exalted in thusrevisiting the past, was imprisoned like an eagle in a cage. He clung toone idea--that of his happiness, destroyed, without apparent cause, by an unheard-of fatality; he considered and reconsidered this idea, devoured it (so to speak), as the implacable Ugolino devours the skullof Archbishop Roger in the Inferno of Dante.

Rage supplanted religious fervor. Dantes uttered blasphemies that madehis jailer recoil with horror, dashed himself furiously against thewalls of his prison, wreaked his anger upon everything, and chiefly uponhimself, so that the least thing, --a grain of sand, a straw, or a breathof air that annoyed him, led to paroxysms of fury. Then the letter thatVillefort had showed to him recurred to his mind, and every line gleamedforth in fiery letters on the wall like the mene tekel upharsin ofBelshazzar. He told himself that it was the enmity of man, and not thevengeance of heaven, that had thus plunged him into the deepest misery. He consigned his unknown persecutors to the most horrible tortures hecould imagine, and found them all insufficient, because after torturecame death, and after death, if not repose, at least the boon ofunconsciousness.

By dint of constantly dwelling on the idea that tranquillity was death, and if punishment were the end in view other tortures than death must beinvented, he began to reflect on suicide. Unhappy he, who, on the brinkof misfortune, broods over ideas like these!

Before him is a dead sea that stretches in azure calm before the eye;but he who unwarily ventures within its embrace finds himself strugglingwith a monster that would drag him down to perdition. Once thusensnared, unless the protecting hand of God snatch him thence, all isover, and his struggles but tend to hasten his destruction. This stateof mental anguish is, however, less terrible than the sufferings thatprecede or the punishment that possibly will follow. There is a sort ofconsolation at the contemplation of the yawning abyss, at the bottom ofwhich lie darkness and obscurity.

Edmond found some solace in these ideas. All his sorrows, all hissufferings, with their train of gloomy spectres, fled from his cell whenthe angel of death seemed about to enter. Dantes reviewed his pastlife with composure, and, looking forward with terror to his futureexistence, chose that middle line that seemed to afford him a refuge.

"Sometimes, " said he, "in my voyages, when I was a man and commandedother men, I have seen the heavens overcast, the sea rage and foam, thestorm arise, and, like a monstrous bird, beating the two horizons withits wings. Then I felt that my vessel was a vain refuge, that trembledand shook before the tempest. Soon the fury of the waves and the sightof the sharp rocks announced the approach of death, and death thenterrified me, and I used all my skill and intelligence as a man and asailor to struggle against the wrath of God. But I did so because I washappy, because I had not courted death, because to be cast upon a bedof rocks and seaweed seemed terrible, because I was unwilling that I, acreature made for the service of God, should serve for food to the gullsand ravens. But now it is different; I have lost all that bound me tolife, death smiles and invites me to repose; I die after my own manner, I die exhausted and broken-spirited, as I fall asleep when I have pacedthree thousand times round my cell. "

No sooner had this idea taken possession of him than he became morecomposed, arranged his couch to the best of his power, ate little andslept less, and found existence almost supportable, because he felt thathe could throw it off at pleasure, like a worn-out garment. Two methodsof self-destruction were at his disposal. He could hang himself with hishandkerchief to the window bars, or refuse food and die of starvation. But the first was repugnant to him. Dantes had always entertained thegreatest horror of pirates, who are hung up to the yard-arm; he wouldnot die by what seemed an infamous death. He resolved to adopt thesecond, and began that day to carry out his resolve. Nearly four yearshad passed away; at the end of the second he had ceased to mark thelapse of time.

Dantes said, "I wish to die, " and had chosen the manner of his death, and fearful of changing his mind, he had taken an oath to die. "When mymorning and evening meals are brought, " thought he, "I will cast themout of the window, and they will think that I have eaten them. "

He kept his word; twice a day he cast out, through the barred aperture, the provisions his jailer brought him--at first gayly, then withdeliberation, and at last with regret. Nothing but the recollectionof his oath gave him strength to proceed. Hunger made viands oncerepugnant, now acceptable; he held the plate in his hand for an hourat a time, and gazed thoughtfully at the morsel of bad meat, of taintedfish, of black and mouldy bread. It was the last yearning for lifecontending with the resolution of despair; then his dungeon seemed lesssombre, his prospects less desperate. He was still young--he wasonly four or five and twenty--he had nearly fifty years to live. Whatunforseen events might not open his prison door, and restore him toliberty? Then he raised to his lips the repast that, like a voluntaryTantalus, he refused himself; but he thought of his oath, and hewould not break it. He persisted until, at last, he had not sufficientstrength to rise and cast his supper out of the loophole. The nextmorning he could not see or hear; the jailer feared he was dangerouslyill. Edmond hoped he was dying.

Thus the day passed away. Edmond felt a sort of stupor creeping over himwhich brought with it a feeling almost of content; the gnawing pain athis stomach had ceased; his thirst had abated; when he closed his eyeshe saw myriads of lights dancing before them like the will-o'-the-wispsthat play about the marshes. It was the twilight of that mysteriouscountry called Death!

Suddenly, about nine o'clock in the evening, Edmond heard a hollow soundin the wall against which he was lying.

So many loathsome animals inhabited the prison, that their noise didnot, in general, awake him; but whether abstinence had quickened hisfaculties, or whether the noise was really louder than usual, Edmondraised his head and listened. It was a continual scratching, as if madeby a huge claw, a powerful tooth, or some iron instrument attacking thestones.

Although weakened, the young man's brain instantly responded to the ideathat haunts all prisoners--liberty! It seemed to him that heaven hadat length taken pity on him, and had sent this noise to warn him on thevery brink of the abyss. Perhaps one of those beloved ones he had sooften thought of was thinking of him, and striving to diminish thedistance that separated them.

No, no, doubtless he was deceived, and it was but one of those dreamsthat forerun death!

Edmond still heard the sound. It lasted nearly three hours; he thenheard a noise of something falling, and all was silent.

Some hours afterwards it began again, nearer and more distinct. Edmondwas intensely interested. Suddenly the jailer entered.

For a week since he had resolved to die, and during the four days thathe had been carrying out his purpose, Edmond had not spoken to theattendant, had not answered him when he inquired what was the matterwith him, and turned his face to the wall when he looked too curiouslyat him; but now the jailer might hear the noise and put an end toit, and so destroy a ray of something like hope that soothed his lastmoments.

The jailer brought him his breakfast. Dantes raised himself up and beganto talk about everything; about the bad quality of the food, about thecoldness of his dungeon, grumbling and complaining, in order to have anexcuse for speaking louder, and wearying the patience of his jailer, who out of kindness of heart had brought broth and white bread for hisprisoner.

Fortunately, he fancied that Dantes was delirious; and placing the foodon the rickety table, he withdrew. Edmond listened, and the sound becamemore and more distinct.

"There can be no doubt about it, " thought he; "it is some prisoner whois striving to obtain his freedom. Oh, if I were only there to helphim!" Suddenly another idea took possession of his mind, so used tomisfortune, that it was scarcely capable of hope--the idea that thenoise was made by workmen the governor had ordered to repair theneighboring dungeon.

It was easy to ascertain this; but how could he risk the question? Itwas easy to call his jailer's attention to the noise, and watch hiscountenance as he listened; but might he not by this means destroyhopes far more important than the short-lived satisfaction of his owncuriosity? Unfortunately, Edmond's brain was still so feeble that hecould not bend his thoughts to anything in particular.

He saw but one means of restoring lucidity and clearness to hisjudgment. He turned his eyes towards the soup which the jailer hadbrought, rose, staggered towards it, raised the vessel to his lips, anddrank off the contents with a feeling of indescribable pleasure. He hadoften heard that shipwrecked persons had died through having eagerlydevoured too much food. Edmond replaced on the table the bread he wasabout to devour, and returned to his couch--he did not wish to die. Hesoon felt that his ideas became again collected--he could think, andstrengthen his thoughts by reasoning. Then he said to himself, "I mustput this to the test, but without compromising anybody. If it is aworkman, I need but knock against the wall, and he will cease to work, in order to find out who is knocking, and why he does so; but as hisoccupation is sanctioned by the governor, he will soon resume it. If, onthe contrary, it is a prisoner, the noise I make will alarm him, he willcease, and not begin again until he thinks every one is asleep. "

Edmond rose again, but this time his legs did not tremble, and his sightwas clear; he went to a corner of his dungeon, detached a stone, andwith it knocked against the wall where the sound came. He struck thrice. At the first blow the sound ceased, as if by magic.

Edmond listened intently; an hour passed, two hours passed, and no soundwas heard from the wall--all was silent there.

Full of hope, Edmond swallowed a few mouthfuls of bread and water, and, thanks to the vigor of his constitution, found himself well-nighrecovered.

The day passed away in utter silence--night came without recurrence ofthe noise.

"It is a prisoner, " said Edmond joyfully. The night passed in perfectsilence. Edmond did not close his eyes.

In the morning the jailer brought him fresh provisions--he had alreadydevoured those of the previous day; he ate these listening anxiously forthe sound, walking round and round his cell, shaking the iron bars ofthe loophole, restoring vigor and agility to his limbs by exercise, andso preparing himself for his future destiny. At intervals he listenedto learn if the noise had not begun again, and grew impatient at theprudence of the prisoner, who did not guess he had been disturbed by acaptive as anxious for liberty as himself.

Three days passed--seventy-two long tedious hours which he counted offby minutes!

At length one evening, as the jailer was visiting him for the last timethat night, Dantes, with his ear for the hundredth time at the wall, fancied he heard an almost imperceptible movement among the stones. Hemoved away, walked up and down his cell to collect his thoughts, andthen went back and listened.

The matter was no longer doubtful. Something was at work on the otherside of the wall; the prisoner had discovered the danger, and hadsubstituted a lever for a chisel.

Encouraged by this discovery, Edmond determined to assist theindefatigable laborer. He began by moving his bed, and looked aroundfor anything with which he could pierce the wall, penetrate the moistcement, and displace a stone.

He saw nothing, he had no knife or sharp instrument, the window gratingwas of iron, but he had too often assured himself of its solidity. Allhis furniture consisted of a bed, a chair, a table, a pail, and a jug. The bed had iron clamps, but they were screwed to the wood, and it wouldhave required a screw-driver to take them off. The table and chairhad nothing, the pail had once possessed a handle, but that had beenremoved.

Dantes had but one resource, which was to break the jug, and with one ofthe sharp fragments attack the wall. He let the jug fall on the floor, and it broke in pieces.

Dantes concealed two or three of the sharpest fragments in his bed, leaving the rest on the floor. The breaking of his jug was too naturalan accident to excite suspicion. Edmond had all the night to work in, but in the darkness he could not do much, and he soon felt that he wasworking against something very hard; he pushed back his bed, and waitedfor day.

All night he heard the subterranean workman, who continued to mine hisway. Day came, the jailer entered. Dantes told him that the jug hadfallen from his hands while he was drinking, and the jailer wentgrumblingly to fetch another, without giving himself the trouble toremove the fragments of the broken one. He returned speedily, advisedthe prisoner to be more careful, and departed.

Dantes heard joyfully the key grate in the lock; he listened until thesound of steps died away, and then, hastily displacing his bed, sawby the faint light that penetrated into his cell, that he had laboreduselessly the previous evening in attacking the stone instead ofremoving the plaster that surrounded it.

The damp had rendered it friable, and Dantes was able to break itoff--in small morsels, it is true, but at the end of half an hour he hadscraped off a handful; a mathematician might have calculated that intwo years, supposing that the rock was not encountered, a passage twentyfeet long and two feet broad, might be formed.

The prisoner reproached himself with not having thus employed the hourshe had passed in vain hopes, prayer, and despondency. During the sixyears that he had been imprisoned, what might he not have accomplished?

In three days he had succeeded, with the utmost precaution, in removingthe cement, and exposing the stone-work. The wall was built of roughstones, among which, to give strength to the structure, blocks of hewnstone were at intervals imbedded. It was one of these he had uncovered, and which he must remove from its socket.

Dantes strove to do this with his nails, but they were too weak. Thefragments of the jug broke, and after an hour of useless toil, hepaused.

Was he to be thus stopped at the beginning, and was he to wait inactiveuntil his fellow workman had completed his task? Suddenly an ideaoccurred to him--he smiled, and the perspiration dried on his forehead.

The jailer always brought Dantes' soup in an iron saucepan; thissaucepan contained soup for both prisoners, for Dantes had noticed thatit was either quite full, or half empty, according as the turnkey gaveit to him or to his companion first.

The handle of this saucepan was of iron; Dantes would have given tenyears of his life in exchange for it.

The jailer was accustomed to pour the contents of the saucepan intoDantes' plate, and Dantes, after eating his soup with a wooden spoon, washed the plate, which thus served for every day. Now when eveningcame Dantes put his plate on the ground near the door; the jailer, as heentered, stepped on it and broke it.

This time he could not blame Dantes. He was wrong to leave it there, butthe jailer was wrong not to have looked before him.

The jailer, therefore, only grumbled. Then he looked about for somethingto pour the soup into; Dantes' entire dinner service consisted of oneplate--there was no alternative.

"Leave the saucepan, " said Dantes; "you can take it away when you bringme my breakfast. " This advice was to the jailer's taste, as it sparedhim the necessity of making another trip. He left the saucepan.

Dantes was beside himself with joy. He rapidly devoured his food, and after waiting an hour, lest the jailer should change his mind andreturn, he removed his bed, took the handle of the saucepan, insertedthe point between the hewn stone and rough stones of the wall, andemployed it as a lever. A slight oscillation showed Dantes that allwent well. At the end of an hour the stone was extricated from the wall, leaving a cavity a foot and a half in diameter.

Dantes carefully collected the plaster, carried it into the corner ofhis cell, and covered it with earth. Then, wishing to make the bestuse of his time while he had the means of labor, he continued to workwithout ceasing. At the dawn of day he replaced the stone, pushed hisbed against the wall, and lay down. The breakfast consisted of a pieceof bread; the jailer entered and placed the bread on the table.

"Well, don't you intend to bring me another plate?" said Dantes.

"No, " replied the turnkey; "you destroy everything. First you break yourjug, then you make me break your plate; if all the prisoners followedyour example, the government would be ruined. I shall leave you thesaucepan, and pour your soup into that. So for the future I hope youwill not be so destructive. "

Dantes raised his eyes to heaven and clasped his hands beneath thecoverlet. He felt more gratitude for the possession of this piece ofiron than he had ever felt for anything. He had noticed, however, thatthe prisoner on the other side had ceased to labor; no matter, this wasa greater reason for proceeding--if his neighbor would not come to him, he would go to his neighbor. All day he toiled on untiringly, and bythe evening he had succeeded in extracting ten handfuls of plaster andfragments of stone. When the hour for his jailer's visit arrived, Dantesstraightened the handle of the saucepan as well as he could, and placedit in its accustomed place. The turnkey poured his ration of soupinto it, together with the fish--for thrice a week the prisoners weredeprived of meat. This would have been a method of reckoning time, hadnot Dantes long ceased to do so. Having poured out the soup, the turnkeyretired. Dantes wished to ascertain whether his neighbor had reallyceased to work. He listened--all was silent, as it had been for the lastthree days. Dantes sighed; it was evident that his neighbor distrustedhim. However, he toiled on all the night without being discouraged; butafter two or three hours he encountered an obstacle. The iron made noimpression, but met with a smooth surface; Dantes touched it, and foundthat it was a beam. This beam crossed, or rather blocked up, the holeDantes had made; it was necessary, therefore, to dig above or underit. The unhappy young man had not thought of this. "O my God, my God!"murmured he, "I have so earnestly prayed to you, that I hoped my prayershad been heard. After having deprived me of my liberty, after havingdeprived me of death, after having recalled me to existence, my God, have pity on me, and do not let me die in despair!"

"Who talks of God and despair at the same time?" said a voice thatseemed to come from beneath the earth, and, deadened by the distance, sounded hollow and sepulchral in the young man's ears. Edmond's hairstood on end, and he rose to his knees.

"Ah, " said he, "I hear a human voice. " Edmond had not heard any onespeak save his jailer for four or five years; and a jailer is no manto a prisoner--he is a living door, a barrier of flesh and blood addingstrength to restraints of oak and iron.

"In the name of heaven, " cried Dantes, "speak again, though the sound ofyour voice terrifies me. Who are you?"

"Who are you?" said the voice.

"An unhappy prisoner, " replied Dantes, who made no hesitation inanswering.

"Of what country?"

"A Frenchman. "

"Your name?"

"Edmond Dantes. "

"Your profession?"

"A sailor. "

"How long have you been here?"

"Since the 28th of February, 1815. "

"Your crime?"

"I am innocent. "

"But of what are you accused?"

"Of having conspired to aid the emperor's return. "

"What! For the emperor's return?--the emperor is no longer on thethrone, then?"

"He abdicated at Fontainebleau in 1814, and was sent to the Islandof Elba. But how long have you been here that you are ignorant of allthis?"

"Since 1811. "

Dantes shuddered; this man had been four years longer than himself inprison.

"Do not dig any more, " said the voice; "only tell me how high up is yourexcavation?"

"On a level with the floor. "

"How is it concealed?"

"Behind my bed. "

"Has your bed been moved since you have been a prisoner?"

"No. "

"What does your chamber open on?"

"A corridor. "

"And the corridor?"

"On a court. "

"Alas!" murmured the voice.

"Oh, what is the matter?" cried Dantes.

"I have made a mistake owing to an error in my plans. I took the wrongangle, and have come out fifteen feet from where I intended. I took thewall you are mining for the outer wall of the fortress. "

"But then you would be close to the sea?"

"That is what I hoped. "

"And supposing you had succeeded?"

"I should have thrown myself into the sea, gained one of the islandsnear here--the Isle de Daume or the Isle de Tiboulen--and then I shouldhave been safe. "

"Could you have swum so far?"

"Heaven would have given me strength; but now all is lost. "

"All?"

"Yes; stop up your excavation carefully, do not work any more, and waituntil you hear from me. "

"Tell me, at least, who you are?"

"I am--I am No. 27. "

"You mistrust me, then, " said Dantes. Edmond fancied he heard a bitterlaugh resounding from the depths.

"Oh, I am a Christian, " cried Dantes, guessing instinctively that thisman meant to abandon him. "I swear to you by him who died for us thatnaught shall induce me to breathe one syllable to my jailers; but Iconjure you do not abandon me. If you do, I swear to you, for I have gotto the end of my strength, that I will dash my brains out against thewall, and you will have my death to reproach yourself with. "

"How old are you? Your voice is that of a young man. "

"I do not know my age, for I have not counted the years I have beenhere. All I do know is, that I was just nineteen when I was arrested, the 28th of February, 1815. "

"Not quite twenty-six!" murmured the voice; "at that age he cannot be atraitor. "

"Oh, no, no, " cried Dantes. "I swear to you again, rather than betrayyou, I would allow myself to be hacked in pieces!"

"You have done well to speak to me, and ask for my assistance, for I wasabout to form another plan, and leave you; but your age reassures me. Iwill not forget you. Wait. "

"How long?"

"I must calculate our chances; I will give you the signal. "

"But you will not leave me; you will come to me, or you will let me cometo you. We will escape, and if we cannot escape we will talk; youof those whom you love, and I of those whom I love. You must lovesomebody?"

"No, I am alone in the world. "

"Then you will love me. If you are young, I will be your comrade; if youare old, I will be your son. I have a father who is seventy if he yetlives; I only love him and a young girl called Mercedes. My father hasnot yet forgotten me, I am sure, but God alone knows if she loves mestill; I shall love you as I loved my father. "

"It is well, " returned the voice; "to-morrow. "

These few words were uttered with an accent that left no doubt of hissincerity; Dantes rose, dispersed the fragments with the same precautionas before, and pushed his bed back against the wall. He then gavehimself up to his happiness. He would no longer be alone. He was, perhaps, about to regain his liberty; at the worst, he would have acompanion, and captivity that is shared is but half captivity. Plaintsmade in common are almost prayers, and prayers where two or three aregathered together invoke the mercy of heaven.

All day Dantes walked up and down his cell. He sat down occasionallyon his bed, pressing his hand on his heart. At the slightest noise hebounded towards the door. Once or twice the thought crossed his mindthat he might be separated from this unknown, whom he loved already; andthen his mind was made up--when the jailer moved his bed and stooped toexamine the opening, he would kill him with his water jug. He would becondemned to die, but he was about to die of grief and despair when thismiraculous noise recalled him to life.

The jailer came in the evening. Dantes was on his bed. It seemed to himthat thus he better guarded the unfinished opening. Doubtless there wasa strange expression in his eyes, for the jailer said, "Come, are yougoing mad again?"

Dantes did not answer; he feared that the emotion of his voice wouldbetray him. The jailer went away shaking his head. Night came; Danteshoped that his neighbor would profit by the silence to address him, buthe was mistaken. The next morning, however, just as he removed his bedfrom the wall, he heard three knocks; he threw himself on his knees.

"Is it you?" said he; "I am here. "

"Is your jailer gone?"

"Yes, " said Dantes; "he will not return until the evening; so that wehave twelve hours before us. "

"I can work, then?" said the voice.

"Oh, yes, yes; this instant, I entreat you. "

In a moment that part of the floor on which Dantes was resting his twohands, as he knelt with his head in the opening, suddenly gave way; hedrew back smartly, while a mass of stones and earth disappeared in ahole that opened beneath the aperture he himself had formed. Then fromthe bottom of this passage, the depth of which it was impossible tomeasure, he saw appear, first the head, then the shoulders, and lastlythe body of a man, who sprang lightly into his cell.

Chapter 16. A Learned Italian.

Seizing in his arms the friend so long and ardently desired, Dantesalmost carried him towards the window, in order to obtain a better viewof his features by the aid of the imperfect light that struggled throughthe grating.

He was a man of small stature, with hair blanched rather by sufferingand sorrow than by age. He had a deep-set, penetrating eye, almostburied beneath the thick gray eyebrow, and a long (and still black)beard reaching down to his breast. His thin face, deeply furrowed bycare, and the bold outline of his strongly marked features, betokened aman more accustomed to exercise his mental faculties than his physicalstrength. Large drops of perspiration were now standing on his brow, while the garments that hung about him were so ragged that one couldonly guess at the pattern upon which they had originally been fashioned.

The stranger might have numbered sixty or sixty-five years; but acertain briskness and appearance of vigor in his movements made itprobable that he was aged more from captivity than the course of time. He received the enthusiastic greeting of his young acquaintance withevident pleasure, as though his chilled affections were rekindled andinvigorated by his contact with one so warm and ardent. He thanked himwith grateful cordiality for his kindly welcome, although he must atthat moment have been suffering bitterly to find another dungeon wherehe had fondly reckoned on discovering a means of regaining his liberty.

"Let us first see, " said he, "whether it is possible to remove thetraces of my entrance here--our future tranquillity depends upon ourjailers being entirely ignorant of it. " Advancing to the opening, he stooped and raised the stone easily in spite of its weight; then, fitting it into its place, he said, --

"You removed this stone very carelessly; but I suppose you had no toolsto aid you. "

"Why, " exclaimed Dantes, with astonishment, "do you possess any?"

"I made myself some; and with the exception of a file, I have all thatare necessary, --a chisel, pincers, and lever. "

"Oh, how I should like to see these products of your industry andpatience. "

"Well, in the first place, here is my chisel. " So saying, he displayed asharp strong blade, with a handle made of beechwood.

"And with what did you contrive to make that?" inquired Dantes.

"With one of the clamps of my bedstead; and this very tool has sufficedme to hollow out the road by which I came hither, a distance of aboutfifty feet. "

"Fifty feet!" responded Dantes, almost terrified.

"Do not speak so loud, young man--don't speak so loud. It frequentlyoccurs in a state prison like this, that persons are stationed outsidethe doors of the cells purposely to overhear the conversation of theprisoners. "

"But they believe I am shut up alone here. "

"That makes no difference. "

"And you say that you dug your way a distance of fifty feet to gethere?"

"I do; that is about the distance that separates your chamber from mine;only, unfortunately, I did not curve aright; for want of the necessarygeometrical instruments to calculate my scale of proportion, instead oftaking an ellipsis of forty feet, I made it fifty. I expected, as I toldyou, to reach the outer wall, pierce through it, and throw myself intothe sea; I have, however, kept along the corridor on which your chamberopens, instead of going beneath it. My labor is all in vain, for I findthat the corridor looks into a courtyard filled with soldiers. "

"That's true, " said Dantes; "but the corridor you speak of only boundsone side of my cell; there are three others--do you know anything oftheir situation?"

"This one is built against the solid rock, and it would take tenexperienced miners, duly furnished with the requisite tools, as manyyears to perforate it. This adjoins the lower part of the governor'sapartments, and were we to work our way through, we should only getinto some lock-up cellars, where we must necessarily be recaptured. Thefourth and last side of your cell faces on--faces on--stop a minute, nowwhere does it face?"

The wall of which he spoke was the one in which was fixed the loopholeby which light was admitted to the chamber. This loophole, whichgradually diminished in size as it approached the outside, to an openingthrough which a child could not have passed, was, for better security, furnished with three iron bars, so as to quiet all apprehensions evenin the mind of the most suspicious jailer as to the possibility of aprisoner's escape. As the stranger asked the question, he dragged thetable beneath the window.

"Climb up, " said he to Dantes. The young man obeyed, mounted on thetable, and, divining the wishes of his companion, placed his backsecurely against the wall and held out both hands. The stranger, whomas yet Dantes knew only by the number of his cell, sprang up with anagility by no means to be expected in a person of his years, and, lightand steady on his feet as a cat or a lizard, climbed from the table tothe outstretched hands of Dantes, and from them to his shoulders;then, bending double, for the ceiling of the dungeon prevented him fromholding himself erect, he managed to slip his head between the upperbars of the window, so as to be able to command a perfect view from topto bottom.

An instant afterwards he hastily drew back his head, saying, "I thoughtso!" and sliding from the shoulders of Dantes as dextrously as he hadascended, he nimbly leaped from the table to the ground.

"What was it that you thought?" asked the young man anxiously, in histurn descending from the table.

The elder prisoner pondered the matter. "Yes, " said he at length, "itis so. This side of your chamber looks out upon a kind of open gallery, where patrols are continually passing, and sentries keep watch day andnight. "

"Are you quite sure of that?"

"Certain. I saw the soldier's shape and the top of his musket; that mademe draw in my head so quickly, for I was fearful he might also see me. "

"Well?" inquired Dantes.

"You perceive then the utter impossibility of escaping through yourdungeon?"

"Then, " pursued the young man eagerly--

"Then, " answered the elder prisoner, "the will of God be done!" andas the old man slowly pronounced those words, an air of profoundresignation spread itself over his careworn countenance. Dantes gazed onthe man who could thus philosophically resign hopes so long and ardentlynourished with an astonishment mingled with admiration.

"Tell me, I entreat of you, who and what you are?" said he at length;"never have I met with so remarkable a person as yourself. "

"Willingly, " answered the stranger; "if, indeed, you feel any curiosityrespecting one, now, alas, powerless to aid you in any way. "

"Say not so; you can console and support me by the strength of your ownpowerful mind. Pray let me know who you really are?"

The stranger smiled a melancholy smile. "Then listen, " said he. "I amthe Abbe Faria, and have been imprisoned as you know in this Chateaud'If since the year 1811; previously to which I had been confined forthree years in the fortress of Fenestrelle. In the year 1811 I wastransferred to Piedmont in France. It was at this period I learned thatthe destiny which seemed subservient to every wish formed by Napoleon, had bestowed on him a son, named king of Rome even in his cradle. I wasvery far then from expecting the change you have just informed me of;namely, that four years afterwards, this colossus of power would beoverthrown. Then who reigns in France at this moment--Napoleon II. ?"

"No, Louis XVIII. "

"The brother of Louis XVII. ! How inscrutable are the ways ofprovidence--for what great and mysterious purpose has it pleased heavento abase the man once so elevated, and raise up him who was so abased?"

Dantes' whole attention was riveted on a man who could thus forget hisown misfortunes while occupying himself with the destinies of others.

"Yes, yes, " continued he, "'Twill be the same as it was in England. After Charles I. , Cromwell; after Cromwell, Charles II. , and then JamesII. , and then some son-in-law or relation, some Prince of Orange, astadtholder who becomes a king. Then new concessions to the people, thena constitution, then liberty. Ah, my friend!" said the abbe, turningtowards Dantes, and surveying him with the kindling gaze of a prophet, "you are young, you will see all this come to pass. "

"Probably, if ever I get out of prison!"

"True, " replied Faria, "we are prisoners; but I forget this sometimes, and there are even moments when my mental vision transports me beyondthese walls, and I fancy myself at liberty. "

"But wherefore are you here?"

"Because in 1807 I dreamed of the very plan Napoleon tried to realize in1811; because, like Machiavelli, I desired to alter the political faceof Italy, and instead of allowing it to be split up into a quantityof petty principalities, each held by some weak or tyrannical ruler, I sought to form one large, compact, and powerful empire; and, lastly, because I fancied I had found my Caesar Borgia in a crowned simpleton, who feigned to enter into my views only to betray me. It was the plan ofAlexander VI. And Clement VII. , but it will never succeed now, for theyattempted it fruitlessly, and Napoleon was unable to complete his work. Italy seems fated to misfortune. " And the old man bowed his head.

Dantes could not understand a man risking his life for such matters. Napoleon certainly he knew something of, inasmuch as he had seen andspoken with him; but of Clement VII. And Alexander VI. He knew nothing.

"Are you not, " he asked, "the priest who here in the Chateau d'If isgenerally thought to be--ill?"

"Mad, you mean, don't you?"

"I did not like to say so, " answered Dantes, smiling.

"Well, then, " resumed Faria with a bitter smile, "let me answer yourquestion in full, by acknowledging that I am the poor mad prisonerof the Chateau d'If, for many years permitted to amuse the differentvisitors with what is said to be my insanity; and, in all probability, I should be promoted to the honor of making sport for the children, ifsuch innocent beings could be found in an abode devoted like this tosuffering and despair. "

Dantes remained for a short time mute and motionless; at length hesaid, --"Then you abandon all hope of escape?"

"I perceive its utter impossibility; and I consider it impious toattempt that which the Almighty evidently does not approve. "

"Nay, be not discouraged. Would it not be expecting too much to hope tosucceed at your first attempt? Why not try to find an opening in anotherdirection from that which has so unfortunately failed?"

"Alas, it shows how little notion you can have of all it has cost me toeffect a purpose so unexpectedly frustrated, that you talk of beginningover again. In the first place, I was four years making the tools Ipossess, and have been two years scraping and digging out earth, hardas granite itself; then what toil and fatigue has it not been to removehuge stones I should once have deemed impossible to loosen. Whole dayshave I passed in these Titanic efforts, considering my labor well repaidif, by night-time I had contrived to carry away a square inch of thishard-bound cement, changed by ages into a substance unyielding as thestones themselves; then to conceal the mass of earth and rubbish I dugup, I was compelled to break through a staircase, and throw thefruits of my labor into the hollow part of it; but the well is now socompletely choked up, that I scarcely think it would be possible to addanother handful of dust without leading to discovery. Consider also thatI fully believed I had accomplished the end and aim of my undertaking, for which I had so exactly husbanded my strength as to make it just holdout to the termination of my enterprise; and now, at the moment when Ireckoned upon success, my hopes are forever dashed from me. No, I repeatagain, that nothing shall induce me to renew attempts evidently atvariance with the Almighty's pleasure. "

Dantes held down his head, that the other might not see how joy at thethought of having a companion outweighed the sympathy he felt for thefailure of the abbe's plans.

The abbe sank upon Edmond's bed, while Edmond himself remained standing. Escape had never once occurred to him. There are, indeed, some thingswhich appear so impossible that the mind does not dwell on them for aninstant. To undermine the ground for fifty feet--to devote three yearsto a labor which, if successful, would conduct you to a precipiceoverhanging the sea--to plunge into the waves from the height of fifty, sixty, perhaps a hundred feet, at the risk of being dashed to piecesagainst the rocks, should you have been fortunate enough to have escapedthe fire of the sentinels; and even, supposing all these perils past, then to have to swim for your life a distance of at least three milesere you could reach the shore--were difficulties so startling andformidable that Dantes had never even dreamed of such a scheme, resigning himself rather to death. But the sight of an old man clingingto life with so desperate a courage, gave a fresh turn to his ideas, andinspired him with new courage. Another, older and less strong than he, had attempted what he had not had sufficient resolution to undertake, and had failed only because of an error in calculation. This sameperson, with almost incredible patience and perseverance, had contrivedto provide himself with tools requisite for so unparalleled an attempt. Another had done all this; why, then, was it impossible to Dantes? Fariahad dug his way through fifty feet, Dantes would dig a hundred; Faria, at the age of fifty, had devoted three years to the task; he, who wasbut half as old, would sacrifice six; Faria, a priest and savant, had not shrunk from the idea of risking his life by trying to swim adistance of three miles to one of the islands--Daume, Rattonneau, orLemaire; should a hardy sailer, an experienced diver, like himself, shrink from a similar task; should he, who had so often for mereamusement's sake plunged to the bottom of the sea to fetch up the brightcoral branch, hesitate to entertain the same project? He could do it inan hour, and how many times had he, for pure pastime, continued in thewater for more than twice as long! At once Dantes resolved to follow thebrave example of his energetic companion, and to remember that what hasonce been done may be done again.

After continuing some time in profound meditation, the young mansuddenly exclaimed, "I have found what you were in search of!"

Faria started: "Have you, indeed?" cried he, raising his head with quickanxiety; "pray, let me know what it is you have discovered?"

"The corridor through which you have bored your way from the cell youoccupy here, extends in the same direction as the outer gallery, does itnot?"

"It does. "

"And is not above fifteen feet from it?"

"About that. "

"Well, then, I will tell you what we must do. We must pierce through thecorridor by forming a side opening about the middle, as it were the toppart of a cross. This time you will lay your plans more accurately; weshall get out into the gallery you have described; kill the sentinelwho guards it, and make our escape. All we require to insure success iscourage, and that you possess, and strength, which I am not deficientin; as for patience, you have abundantly proved yours--you shall now seeme prove mine. "

"One instant, my dear friend, " replied the abbe; "it is clear you do notunderstand the nature of the courage with which I am endowed, and whatuse I intend making of my strength. As for patience, I consider that Ihave abundantly exercised that in beginning every morning the task ofthe night before, and every night renewing the task of the day. Butthen, young man (and I pray of you to give me your full attention), thenI thought I could not be doing anything displeasing to the Almighty intrying to set an innocent being at liberty--one who had committed nooffence, and merited not condemnation. "

"And have your notions changed?" asked Dantes with much surprise; "doyou think yourself more guilty in making the attempt since you haveencountered me?"

"No; neither do I wish to incur guilt. Hitherto I have fancied myselfmerely waging war against circumstances, not men. I have thought itno sin to bore through a wall, or destroy a staircase; but I cannot soeasily persuade myself to pierce a heart or take away a life. " A slightmovement of surprise escaped Dantes.

"Is it possible, " said he, "that where your liberty is at stake you canallow any such scruple to deter you from obtaining it?"

"Tell me, " replied Faria, "what has hindered you from knocking down yourjailer with a piece of wood torn from your bedstead, dressing yourselfin his clothes, and endeavoring to escape?"

"Simply the fact that the idea never occurred to me, " answered Dantes.

"Because, " said the old man, "the natural repugnance to the commissionof such a crime prevented you from thinking of it; and so it ever isbecause in simple and allowable things our natural instincts keep usfrom deviating from the strict line of duty. The tiger, whose natureteaches him to delight in shedding blood, needs but the sense of smellto show him when his prey is within his reach, and by following thisinstinct he is enabled to measure the leap necessary to permit him tospring on his victim; but man, on the contrary, loathes the idea ofblood--it is not alone that the laws of social life inspire him witha shrinking dread of taking life; his natural construction andphysiological formation"--

Dantes was confused and silent at this explanation of the thoughts whichhad unconsciously been working in his mind, or rather soul; for thereare two distinct sorts of ideas, those that proceed from the head andthose that emanate from the heart.

"Since my imprisonment, " said Faria, "I have thought over all the mostcelebrated cases of escape on record. They have rarely been successful. Those that have been crowned with full success have been long meditatedupon, and carefully arranged; such, for instance, as the escape of theDuc de Beaufort from the Chateau de Vincennes, that of the Abbe Dubuquoifrom For l'Eveque; of Latude from the Bastille. Then there are those forwhich chance sometimes affords opportunity, and those are the best ofall. Let us, therefore, wait patiently for some favorable moment, andwhen it presents itself, profit by it. "

"Ah, " said Dantes, "you might well endure the tedious delay; you wereconstantly employed in the task you set yourself, and when weary withtoil, you had your hopes to refresh and encourage you. "

"I assure you, " replied the old man, "I did not turn to that source forrecreation or support. "

"What did you do then?"

"I wrote or studied. "

"Were you then permitted the use of pens, ink, and paper?"

"Oh, no, " answered the abbe; "I had none but what I made for myself. "

"You made paper, pens and ink?"

"Yes. "

Dantes gazed with admiration, but he had some difficulty in believing. Faria saw this.

"When you pay me a visit in my cell, my young friend, " said he, "I willshow you an entire work, the fruits of the thoughts and reflections ofmy whole life; many of them meditated over in the shades of the Colosseumat Rome, at the foot of St. Mark's column at Venice, and on the bordersof the Arno at Florence, little imagining at the time that they would bearranged in order within the walls of the Chateau d'If. The work I speakof is called 'A Treatise on the Possibility of a General Monarchy inItaly, ' and will make one large quarto volume. "

"And on what have you written all this?"

"On two of my shirts. I invented a preparation that makes linen assmooth and as easy to write on as parchment. "

"You are, then, a chemist?"

"Somewhat; I know Lavoisier, and was the intimate friend of Cabanis. "

"But for such a work you must have needed books--had you any?"

"I had nearly five thousand volumes in my library at Rome; but afterreading them over many times, I found out that with one hundred andfifty well-chosen books a man possesses, if not a complete summary ofall human knowledge, at least all that a man need really know. I devotedthree years of my life to reading and studying these one hundred andfifty volumes, till I knew them nearly by heart; so that since I havebeen in prison, a very slight effort of memory has enabled me to recalltheir contents as readily as though the pages were open before me. Icould recite you the whole of Thucydides, Xenophon, Plutarch, TitusLivius, Tacitus, Strada, Jornandes, Dante, Montaigne, Shakespeare, Spinoza, Machiavelli, and Bossuet. I name only the most important. "

"You are, doubtless, acquainted with a variety of languages, so as tohave been able to read all these?"

"Yes, I speak five of the modern tongues--that is to say, German, French, Italian, English, and Spanish; by the aid of ancient Greek Ilearned modern Greek--I don't speak it so well as I could wish, but I amstill trying to improve myself. "

"Improve yourself!" repeated Dantes; "why, how can you manage to do so?"

"Why, I made a vocabulary of the words I knew; turned, returned, andarranged them, so as to enable me to express my thoughts throughtheir medium. I know nearly one thousand words, which is all that isabsolutely necessary, although I believe there are nearly one hundredthousand in the dictionaries. I cannot hope to be very fluent, but Icertainly should have no difficulty in explaining my wants and wishes;and that would be quite as much as I should ever require. "

Stronger grew the wonder of Dantes, who almost fancied he had to dowith one gifted with supernatural powers; still hoping to find someimperfection which might bring him down to a level with human beings, headded, "Then if you were not furnished with pens, how did you manage towrite the work you speak of?"

"I made myself some excellent ones, which would be universally preferredto all others if once known. You are aware what huge whitings are servedto us on maigre days. Well, I selected the cartilages of the heads ofthese fishes, and you can scarcely imagine the delight with whichI welcomed the arrival of each Wednesday, Friday, and Saturday, asaffording me the means of increasing my stock of pens; for I will freelyconfess that my historical labors have been my greatest solace andrelief. While retracing the past, I forget the present; and traversingat will the path of history I cease to remember that I am myself aprisoner. "

"But the ink, " said Dantes; "of what did you make your ink?"

"There was formerly a fireplace in my dungeon, " replied Faria, "but itwas closed up long ere I became an occupant of this prison. Still, itmust have been many years in use, for it was thickly covered with acoating of soot; this soot I dissolved in a portion of the wine broughtto me every Sunday, and I assure you a better ink cannot be desired. Forvery important notes, for which closer attention is required, I prickedone of my fingers, and wrote with my own blood. "

"And when, " asked Dantes, "may I see all this?"

"Whenever you please, " replied the abbe.

"Oh, then let it be directly!" exclaimed the young man.

"Follow me, then, " said the abbe, as he re-entered the subterraneanpassage, in which he soon disappeared, followed by Dantes.

Chapter 17. The Abbe's Chamber.

After having passed with tolerable ease through the subterraneanpassage, which, however, did not admit of their holding themselveserect, the two friends reached the further end of the corridor, intowhich the abbe's cell opened; from that point the passage became muchnarrower, and barely permitted one to creep through on hands and knees. The floor of the abbe's cell was paved, and it had been by raising oneof the stones in the most obscure corner that Faria had to been ableto commence the laborious task of which Dantes had witnessed thecompletion.

As he entered the chamber of his friend, Dantes cast around one eagerand searching glance in quest of the expected marvels, but nothing morethan common met his view.

"It is well, " said the abbe; "we have some hours before us--it is nowjust a quarter past twelve o'clock. " Instinctively Dantes turned roundto observe by what watch or clock the abbe had been able so accuratelyto specify the hour.

"Look at this ray of light which enters by my window, " said the abbe, "and then observe the lines traced on the wall. Well, by means of theselines, which are in accordance with the double motion of the earth, andthe ellipse it describes round the sun, I am enabled to ascertain theprecise hour with more minuteness than if I possessed a watch; for thatmight be broken or deranged in its movements, while the sun and earthnever vary in their appointed paths. "

This last explanation was wholly lost upon Dantes, who had alwaysimagined, from seeing the sun rise from behind the mountains and set inthe Mediterranean, that it moved, and not the earth. A double movementof the globe he inhabited, and of which he could feel nothing, appearedto him perfectly impossible. Each word that fell from his companion'slips seemed fraught with the mysteries of science, as worthy of diggingout as the gold and diamonds in the mines of Guzerat and Golconda, which he could just recollect having visited during a voyage made in hisearliest youth.

"Come, " said he to the abbe, "I am anxious to see your treasures. "

The abbe smiled, and, proceeding to the disused fireplace, raised, by the help of his chisel, a long stone, which had doubtless been thehearth, beneath which was a cavity of considerable depth, serving as asafe depository of the articles mentioned to Dantes.

"What do you wish to see first?" asked the abbe.

"Oh, your great work on the monarchy of Italy!"

Faria then drew forth from his hiding-place three or four rolls oflinen, laid one over the other, like folds of papyrus. These rollsconsisted of slips of cloth about four inches wide and eighteen long;they were all carefully numbered and closely covered with writing, so legible that Dantes could easily read it, as well as make out thesense--it being in Italian, a language he, as a Provencal, perfectlyunderstood.

"There, " said he, "there is the work complete. I wrote the word finis atthe end of the sixty-eighth strip about a week ago. I have torn up twoof my shirts, and as many handkerchiefs as I was master of, to completethe precious pages. Should I ever get out of prison and find in allItaly a printer courageous enough to publish what I have composed, myliterary reputation is forever secured. "

"I see, " answered Dantes. "Now let me behold the curious pens with whichyou have written your work. "

"Look!" said Faria, showing to the young man a slender stick aboutsix inches long, and much resembling the size of the handle of a finepainting-brush, to the end of which was tied, by a piece of thread, oneof those cartilages of which the abbe had before spoken to Dantes;it was pointed, and divided at the nib like an ordinary pen. Dantesexamined it with intense admiration, then looked around to see theinstrument with which it had been shaped so correctly into form.

"Ah, yes, " said Faria; "the penknife. That's my masterpiece. I madeit, as well as this larger knife, out of an old iron candlestick. " Thepenknife was sharp and keen as a razor; as for the other knife, it wouldserve a double purpose, and with it one could cut and thrust.

Dantes examined the various articles shown to him with the sameattention that he had bestowed on the curiosities and strange toolsexhibited in the shops at Marseilles as the works of the savages in theSouth Seas from whence they had been brought by the different tradingvessels.

"As for the ink, " said Faria, "I told you how I managed to obtainthat--and I only just make it from time to time, as I require it. "

"One thing still puzzles me, " observed Dantes, "and that is how youmanaged to do all this by daylight?"

"I worked at night also, " replied Faria.

"Night!--why, for heaven's sake, are your eyes like cats', that you cansee to work in the dark?"

"Indeed they are not; but God his supplied man with the intelligencethat enables him to overcome the limitations of natural conditions. Ifurnished myself with a light. "

"You did? Pray tell me how. "

"I separated the fat from the meat served to me, melted it, and so madeoil--here is my lamp. " So saying, the abbe exhibited a sort of torchvery similar to those used in public illuminations.

"But light?"

"Here are two flints and a piece of burnt linen. "

"And matches?"

"I pretended that I had a disorder of the skin, and asked for a littlesulphur, which was readily supplied. " Dantes laid the different thingshe had been looking at on the table, and stood with his head droopingon his breast, as though overwhelmed by the perseverance and strength ofFaria's mind.

"You have not seen all yet, " continued Faria, "for I did not think itwise to trust all my treasures in the same hiding-place. Let us shutthis one up. " They put the stone back in its place; the abbe sprinkleda little dust over it to conceal the traces of its having been removed, rubbed his foot well on it to make it assume the same appearance as theother, and then, going towards his bed, he removed it from the spot itstood in. Behind the head of the bed, and concealed by a stone fittingin so closely as to defy all suspicion, was a hollow space, and in thisspace a ladder of cords between twenty-five and thirty feet in length. Dantes closely and eagerly examined it; he found it firm, solid, andcompact enough to bear any weight.

"Who supplied you with the materials for making this wonderful work?"

"I tore up several of my shirts, and ripped out the seams in the sheetsof my bed, during my three years' imprisonment at Fenestrelle; and whenI was removed to the Chateau d'If, I managed to bring the ravellingswith me, so that I have been able to finish my work here. "

"And was it not discovered that your sheets were unhemmed?"

"Oh, no, for when I had taken out the thread I required, I hemmed theedges over again. "

"With what?"

"With this needle, " said the abbe, as, opening his ragged vestments, heshowed Dantes a long, sharp fish-bone, with a small perforated eyefor the thread, a small portion of which still remained in it. "I oncethought, " continued Faria, "of removing these iron bars, and lettingmyself down from the window, which, as you see, is somewhat wider thanyours, although I should have enlarged it still more preparatory to myflight; however, I discovered that I should merely have dropped into asort of inner court, and I therefore renounced the project altogetheras too full of risk and danger. Nevertheless, I carefully preserved myladder against one of those unforeseen opportunities of which I spokejust now, and which sudden chance frequently brings about. " Whileaffecting to be deeply engaged in examining the ladder, the mind ofDantes was, in fact, busily occupied by the idea that a person sointelligent, ingenious, and clear-sighted as the abbe might probably beable to solve the dark mystery of his own misfortunes, where he himselfcould see nothing.

"What are you thinking of?" asked the abbe smilingly, imputing the deepabstraction in which his visitor was plunged to the excess of his aweand wonder.

"I was reflecting, in the first place, " replied Dantes, "upon theenormous degree of intelligence and ability you must have employed toreach the high perfection to which you have attained. What would you nothave accomplished if you had been free?"

"Possibly nothing at all; the overflow of my brain would probably, in astate of freedom, have evaporated in a thousand follies; misfortuneis needed to bring to light the treasures of the human intellect. Compression is needed to explode gunpowder. Captivity has broughtmy mental faculties to a focus; and you are well aware that fromthe collision of clouds electricity is produced--from electricity, lightning, from lightning, illumination. "

"No, " replied Dantes. "I know nothing. Some of your words are to mequite empty of meaning. You must be blessed indeed to possess theknowledge you have. "

The abbe smiled. "Well, " said he, "but you had another subject for yourthoughts; did you not say so just now?"

"I did!"

"You have told me as yet but one of them--let me hear the other. "

"It was this, --that while you had related to me all the particulars ofyour past life, you were perfectly unacquainted with mine. "

"Your life, my young friend, has not been of sufficient length to admitof your having passed through any very important events. "

"It has been long enough to inflict on me a great and undeservedmisfortune. I would fain fix the source of it on man that I may nolonger vent reproaches upon heaven. "

"Then you profess ignorance of the crime with which you are charged?"

"I do, indeed; and this I swear by the two beings most dear to me uponearth, --my father and Mercedes. "

"Come, " said the abbe, closing his hiding-place, and pushing the bedback to its original situation, "let me hear your story. "

Dantes obeyed, and commenced what he called his history, but whichconsisted only of the account of a voyage to India, and two or threevoyages to the Levant until he arrived at the recital of his lastcruise, with the death of Captain Leclere, and the receipt of a packetto be delivered by himself to the grand marshal; his interview with thatpersonage, and his receiving, in place of the packet brought, a letteraddressed to a Monsieur Noirtier--his arrival at Marseilles, andinterview with his father--his affection for Mercedes, and their nuptualfeast--his arrest and subsequent examination, his temporary detention atthe Palais de Justice, and his final imprisonment in the Chateau d'If. From this point everything was a blank to Dantes--he knew nothingmore, not even the length of time he had been imprisoned. His recitalfinished, the abbe reflected long and earnestly.

"There is, " said he, at the end of his meditations, "a clever maxim, which bears upon what I was saying to you some little while ago, andthat is, that unless wicked ideas take root in a naturally depravedmind, human nature, in a right and wholesome state, revolts at crime. Still, from an artificial civilization have originated wants, vices, andfalse tastes, which occasionally become so powerful as to stiflewithin us all good feelings, and ultimately to lead us into guilt andwickedness. From this view of things, then, comes the axiom that if youvisit to discover the author of any bad action, seek first to discoverthe person to whom the perpetration of that bad action could be in anyway advantageous. Now, to apply it in your case, --to whom could yourdisappearance have been serviceable?"

"To no one, by heaven! I was a very insignificant person. "

"Do not speak thus, for your reply evinces neither logic nor philosophy;everything is relative, my dear young friend, from the king who standsin the way of his successor, to the employee who keeps his rival out ofa place. Now, in the event of the king's death, his successor inherits acrown, --when the employee dies, the supernumerary steps into his shoes, and receives his salary of twelve thousand livres. Well, these twelvethousand livres are his civil list, and are as essential to him as thetwelve millions of a king. Every one, from the highest to the lowestdegree, has his place on the social ladder, and is beset by stormypassions and conflicting interests, as in Descartes' theory of pressureand impulsion. But these forces increase as we go higher, so that wehave a spiral which in defiance of reason rests upon the apex and not onthe base. Now let us return to your particular world. You say you wereon the point of being made captain of the Pharaon?"

"Yes. "

"And about to become the husband of a young and lovely girl?"

"Yes. "

"Now, could any one have had any interest in preventing theaccomplishment of these two things? But let us first settle the questionas to its being the interest of any one to hinder you from being captainof the Pharaon. What say you?"

"I cannot believe such was the case. I was generally liked on board, andhad the sailors possessed the right of selecting a captain themselves, Ifeel convinced their choice would have fallen on me. There was only oneperson among the crew who had any feeling of ill-will towards me. I hadquarelled with him some time previously, and had even challenged him tofight me; but he refused. "

"Now we are getting on. And what was this man's name?"

"Danglars. "

"What rank did he hold on board?"

"He was supercargo. "

"And had you been captain, should you have retained him in hisemployment?"

"Not if the choice had remained with me, for I had frequently observedinaccuracies in his accounts. "

"Good again! Now then, tell me, was any person present during your lastconversation with Captain Leclere?"

"No; we were quite alone. "

"Could your conversation have been overheard by any one?"

"It might, for the cabin door was open--and--stay; now Irecollect, --Danglars himself passed by just as Captain Leclere wasgiving me the packet for the grand marshal. "

"That's better, " cried the abbe; "now we are on the right scent. Did youtake anybody with you when you put into the port of Elba?"

"Nobody. "

"Somebody there received your packet, and gave you a letter in place ofit, I think?"

"Yes; the grand marshal did. "

"And what did you do with that letter?"

"Put it into my portfolio. "

"You had your portfolio with you, then? Now, how could a sailor findroom in his pocket for a portfolio large enough to contain an officialletter?"

"You are right; it was left on board. "

"Then it was not till your return to the ship that you put the letter inthe portfolio?"

"No. "

"And what did you do with this same letter while returning fromPorto-Ferrajo to the vessel?"

"I carried it in my hand. "

"So that when you went on board the Pharaon, everybody could see thatyou held a letter in your hand?"

"Yes. "

"Danglars, as well as the rest?"

"Danglars, as well as others. "

"Now, listen to me, and try to recall every circumstance attending yourarrest. Do you recollect the words in which the information against youwas formulated?"

"Oh yes, I read it over three times, and the words sank deeply into mymemory. "

"Repeat it to me. "

Dantes paused a moment, then said, "This is it, word for word: 'Theking's attorney is informed by a friend to the throne and religion, that one Edmond Dantes, mate on board the Pharaon, this day arrivedfrom Smyrna, after having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has beenintrusted by Murat with a packet for the usurper; again, by the usurper, with a letter for the Bonapartist Club in Paris. This proof of his guiltmay be procured by his immediate arrest, as the letter will be foundeither about his person, at his father's residence, or in his cabinon board the Pharaon. '" The abbe shrugged his shoulders. "The thing isclear as day, " said he; "and you must have had a very confiding nature, as well as a good heart, not to have suspected the origin of the wholeaffair. "

"Do you really think so? Ah, that would indeed be infamous. "

"How did Danglars usually write?"

"In a handsome, running hand. "

"And how was the anonymous letter written?"

"Backhanded. " Again the abbe smiled. "Disguised. "

"It was very boldly written, if disguised. "

"Stop a bit, " said the abbe, taking up what he called his pen, and, after dipping it into the ink, he wrote on a piece of prepared linen, with his left hand, the first two or three words of the accusation. Dantes drew back, and gazed on the abbe with a sensation almostamounting to terror.

"How very astonishing!" cried he at length. "Why your writing exactlyresembles that of the accusation. "

"Simply because that accusation had been written with the left hand; andI have noticed that"--

"What?"

"That while the writing of different persons done with the right handvaries, that performed with the left hand is invariably uniform. "

"You have evidently seen and observed everything. "

"Let us proceed. "

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"Now as regards the second question. "

"I am listening. "

"Was there any person whose interest it was to prevent your marriagewith Mercedes?"

"Yes; a young man who loved her. "

"And his name was"--

"Fernand. "

"That is a Spanish name, I think?"

"He was a Catalan. "

"You imagine him capable of writing the letter?"

"Oh, no; he would more likely have got rid of me by sticking a knifeinto me. "

"That is in strict accordance with the Spanish character; anassassination they will unhesitatingly commit, but an act of cowardice, never. "

"Besides, " said Dantes, "the various circumstances mentioned in theletter were wholly unknown to him. "

"You had never spoken of them yourself to any one?"

"To no one. "

"Not even to your mistress?"

"No, not even to my betrothed. "

"Then it is Danglars. "

"I feel quite sure of it now. "

"Wait a little. Pray, was Danglars acquainted with Fernand?"

"No--yes, he was. Now I recollect"--

"What?"

"To have seen them both sitting at table together under an arbor at PerePamphile's the evening before the day fixed for my wedding. They were inearnest conversation. Danglars was joking in a friendly way, but Fernandlooked pale and agitated. "

"Were they alone?"

"There was a third person with them whom I knew perfectly well, and whohad, in all probability made their acquaintance; he was a tailor namedCaderousse, but he was very drunk. Stay!--stay!--How strange that itshould not have occurred to me before! Now I remember quite well, thaton the table round which they were sitting were pens, ink, and paper. Oh, the heartless, treacherous scoundrels!" exclaimed Dantes, pressinghis hand to his throbbing brows.

"Is there anything else I can assist you in discovering, besides thevillany of your friends?" inquired the abbe with a laugh.

"Yes, yes, " replied Dantes eagerly; "I would beg of you, who see socompletely to the depths of things, and to whom the greatest mysteryseems but an easy riddle, to explain to me how it was that I underwentno second examination, was never brought to trial, and, above all, wascondemned without ever having had sentence passed on me?"

"That is altogether a different and more serious matter, " responded theabbe. "The ways of justice are frequently too dark and mysterious tobe easily penetrated. All we have hitherto done in the matter has beenchild's play. If you wish me to enter upon the more difficult part ofthe business, you must assist me by the most minute information on everypoint. "

"Pray ask me whatever questions you please; for, in good truth, you seemore clearly into my life than I do myself. "

"In the first place, then, who examined you, --the king's attorney, hisdeputy, or a magistrate?"

"The deputy. "

"Was he young or old?"

"About six or seven and twenty years of age, I should say. "

"So, " answered the abbe. "Old enough to be ambitions, but too young tobe corrupt. And how did he treat you?"

"With more of mildness than severity. "

"Did you tell him your whole story?"

"I did. "

"And did his conduct change at all in the course of your examination?"

"He did appear much disturbed when he read the letter that had broughtme into this scrape. He seemed quite overcome by my misfortune. "

"By your misfortune?"

"Yes. "

"Then you feel quite sure that it was your misfortune he deplored?"

"He gave me one great proof of his sympathy, at any rate. "

"And that?"

"He burnt the sole evidence that could at all have criminated me. "

"What? the accusation?"

"No; the letter. "

"Are you sure?"

"I saw it done. "

"That alters the case. This man might, after all, be a greater scoundrelthan you have thought possible. "

"Upon my word, " said Dantes, "you make me shudder. Is the world filledwith tigers and crocodiles?"

"Yes; and remember that two-legged tigers and crocodiles are moredangerous than the others. "

"Never mind; let us go on. "

"With all my heart! You tell me he burned the letter?"

"He did; saying at the same time, 'You see I thus destroy the only proofexisting against you. '"

"This action is somewhat too sublime to be natural. "

"You think so?"

"I am sure of it. To whom was this letter addressed?"

"To M. Noirtier, No. 13 Coq-Heron, Paris. "

"Now can you conceive of any interest that your heroic deputy couldpossibly have had in the destruction of that letter?"

"Why, it is not altogether impossible he might have had, for he made mepromise several times never to speak of that letter to any one, assuringme he so advised me for my own interest; and, more than this, heinsisted on my taking a solemn oath never to utter the name mentioned inthe address. "

"Noirtier!" repeated the abbe; "Noirtier!--I knew a person of thatname at the court of the Queen of Etruria, --a Noirtier, who had been aGirondin during the Revolution! What was your deputy called?"

"De Villefort!" The abbe burst into a fit of laughter, while Dantesgazed on him in utter astonishment.

"What ails you?" said he at length.

"Do you see that ray of sunlight?"

"I do. "

"Well, the whole thing is more clear to me than that sunbeam is to you. Poor fellow! poor young man! And you tell me this magistrate expressedgreat sympathy and commiseration for you?"

"He did. "

"And the worthy man destroyed your compromising letter?"

"Yes. "

"And then made you swear never to utter the name of Noirtier?"

"Yes. "

"Why, you poor short-sighted simpleton, can you not guess who thisNoirtier was, whose very name he was so careful to keep concealed?Noirtier was his father. "

Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Dantes, or hell opened itsyawning gulf before him, he could not have been more completelytransfixed with horror than he was at the sound of these unexpectedwords. Starting up, he clasped his hands around his head as though toprevent his very brain from bursting, and exclaimed, "His father! hisfather!"

"Yes, his father, " replied the abbe; "his right name was Noirtier deVillefort. " At this instant a bright light shot through the mind ofDantes, and cleared up all that had been dark and obscure before. The change that had come over Villefort during the examination, thedestruction of the letter, the exacted promise, the almost supplicatingtones of the magistrate, who seemed rather to implore mercy than topronounce punishment, --all returned with a stunning force to his memory. He cried out, and staggered against the wall like a drunken man, thenhe hurried to the opening that led from the abbe's cell to his own, andsaid, "I must be alone, to think over all this. "

When he regained his dungeon, he threw himself on his bed, where theturnkey found him in the evening visit, sitting with fixed gaze andcontracted features, dumb and motionless as a statue. During these hoursof profound meditation, which to him had seemed only minutes, he hadformed a fearful resolution, and bound himself to its fulfilment by asolemn oath.

Dantes was at length roused from his revery by the voice of Faria, who, having also been visited by his jailer, had come to invite hisfellow-sufferer to share his supper. The reputation of being out of hismind, though harmlessly and even amusingly so, had procured for theabbe unusual privileges. He was supplied with bread of a finer, whiterquality than the usual prison fare, and even regaled each Sunday with asmall quantity of wine. Now this was a Sunday, and the abbe had come toask his young companion to share the luxuries with him. Dantes followed;his features were no longer contracted, and now wore their usualexpression, but there was that in his whole appearance that bespoke onewho had come to a fixed and desperate resolve. Faria bent on him hispenetrating eye: "I regret now, " said he, "having helped you in yourlate inquiries, or having given you the information I did. "

"Why so?" inquired Dantes.

"Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart--that ofvengeance. "

Dantes smiled. "Let us talk of something else, " said he.

Again the abbe looked at him, then mournfully shook his head; but inaccordance with Dantes' request, he began to speak of other matters. Theelder prisoner was one of those persons whose conversation, like thatof all who have experienced many trials, contained many usefuland important hints as well as sound information; but it was neveregotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his own sorrows. Dantes listened with admiring attention to all he said; some of hisremarks corresponded with what he already knew, or applied to the sortof knowledge his nautical life had enabled him to acquire. A part of thegood abbe's words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him; but, like the aurora which guides the navigator in northern latitudes, openednew vistas to the inquiring mind of the listener, and gave fantasticglimpses of new horizons, enabling him justly to estimate the delight anintellectual mind would have in following one so richly gifted as Fariaalong the heights of truth, where he was so much at home.

"You must teach me a small part of what you know, " said Dantes, "if onlyto prevent your growing weary of me. I can well believe that so learneda person as yourself would prefer absolute solitude to being tormentedwith the company of one as ignorant and uninformed as myself. If youwill only agree to my request, I promise you never to mention anotherword about escaping. " The abbe smiled. "Alas, my boy, " said he, "humanknowledge is confined within very narrow limits; and when I havetaught you mathematics, physics, history, and the three or four modernlanguages with which I am acquainted, you will know as much as I domyself. Now, it will scarcely require two years for me to communicate toyou the stock of learning I possess. "

"Two years!" exclaimed Dantes; "do you really believe I can acquire allthese things in so short a time?"

"Not their application, certainly, but their principles you may; tolearn is not to know; there are the learners and the learned. Memorymakes the one, philosophy the other. "

"But cannot one learn philosophy?"

"Philosophy cannot be taught; it is the application of the sciences totruth; it is like the golden cloud in which the Messiah went up intoheaven. "

"Well, then, " said Dantes, "What shall you teach me first? I am in ahurry to begin. I want to learn. "

"Everything, " said the abbe. And that very evening the prisonerssketched a plan of education, to be entered upon the following day. Dantes possessed a prodigious memory, combined with an astonishingquickness and readiness of conception; the mathematical turn of hismind rendered him apt at all kinds of calculation, while his naturallypoetical feelings threw a light and pleasing veil over the dry realityof arithmetical computation, or the rigid severity of geometry. Healready knew Italian, and had also picked up a little of the Romaicdialect during voyages to the East; and by the aid of these twolanguages he easily comprehended the construction of all the others, sothat at the end of six months he began to speak Spanish, English, andGerman. In strict accordance with the promise made to the abbe, Dantesspoke no more of escape. Perhaps the delight his studies afforded himleft no room for such thoughts; perhaps the recollection that he hadpledged his word (on which his sense of honor was keen) kept him fromreferring in any way to the possibilities of flight. Days, even months, passed by unheeded in one rapid and instructive course. At the end ofa year Dantes was a new man. Dantes observed, however, that Faria, inspite of the relief his society afforded, daily grew sadder; one thoughtseemed incessantly to harass and distract his mind. Sometimes he wouldfall into long reveries, sigh heavily and involuntarily, then suddenlyrise, and, with folded arms, begin pacing the confined space of hisdungeon. One day he stopped all at once, and exclaimed, "Ah, if therewere no sentinel!"

"There shall not be one a minute longer than you please, " said Dantes, who had followed the working of his thoughts as accurately as thoughhis brain were enclosed in crystal so clear as to display its minutestoperations.

"I have already told you, " answered the abbe, "that I loathe the idea ofshedding blood. "

"And yet the murder, if you choose to call it so, would be simply ameasure of self-preservation. "

"No matter! I could never agree to it. "

"Still, you have thought of it?"

"Incessantly, alas!" cried the abbe.

"And you have discovered a means of regaining our freedom, have younot?" asked Dantes eagerly.

"I have; if it were only possible to place a deaf and blind sentinel inthe gallery beyond us. "

"He shall be both blind and deaf, " replied the young man, with an air ofdetermination that made his companion shudder.

"No, no, " cried the abbe; "impossible!" Dantes endeavored to renew thesubject; the abbe shook his head in token of disapproval, and refused tomake any further response. Three months passed away.

"Are you strong?" the abbe asked one day of Dantes. The young man, inreply, took up the chisel, bent it into the form of a horseshoe, andthen as readily straightened it.

"And will you engage not to do any harm to the sentry, except as a lastresort?"

"I promise on my honor. "

"Then, " said the abbe, "we may hope to put our design into execution. "

"And how long shall we be in accomplishing the necessary work?"

"At least a year. "

"And shall we begin at once?"

"At once. "

"We have lost a year to no purpose!" cried Dantes.

"Do you consider the last twelve months to have been wasted?" asked theabbe.

"Forgive me!" cried Edmond, blushing deeply.

"Tut, tut!" answered the abbe, "man is but man after all, and you areabout the best specimen of the genus I have ever known. Come, let meshow you my plan. " The abbe then showed Dantes the sketch he had madefor their escape. It consisted of a plan of his own cell and that ofDantes, with the passage which united them. In this passage he proposedto drive a level as they do in mines; this level would bring the twoprisoners immediately beneath the gallery where the sentry kept watch;once there, a large excavation would be made, and one of the flag-stoneswith which the gallery was paved be so completely loosened that at thedesired moment it would give way beneath the feet of the soldier, who, stunned by his fall, would be immediately bound and gagged by Dantesbefore he had power to offer any resistance. The prisoners were then tomake their way through one of the gallery windows, and to let themselvesdown from the outer walls by means of the abbe's ladder of cords. Dantes' eyes sparkled with joy, and he rubbed his hands with delight atthe idea of a plan so simple, yet apparently so certain to succeed.

That very day the miners began their labors, with a vigor and alacrityproportionate to their long rest from fatigue and their hopes ofultimate success. Nothing interrupted the progress of the workexcept the necessity that each was under of returning to his cell inanticipation of the turnkey's visits. They had learned to distinguishthe almost imperceptible sound of his footsteps as he descended towardstheir dungeons, and happily, never failed of being prepared for hiscoming. The fresh earth excavated during their present work, and whichwould have entirely blocked up the old passage, was thrown, by degreesand with the utmost precaution, out of the window in either Faria'sor Dantes' cell, the rubbish being first pulverized so finely that thenight wind carried it far away without permitting the smallest trace toremain. More than a year had been consumed in this undertaking, the onlytools for which had been a chisel, a knife, and a wooden lever; Fariastill continuing to instruct Dantes by conversing with him, sometimesin one language, sometimes in another; at others, relating to him thehistory of nations and great men who from time to time have risen tofame and trodden the path of glory.

The abbe was a man of the world, and had, moreover, mixed in the firstsociety of the day; he wore an air of melancholy dignity which Dantes, thanks to the imitative powers bestowed on him by nature, easilyacquired, as well as that outward polish and politeness he had beforebeen wanting in, and which is seldom possessed except by those whohave been placed in constant intercourse with persons of high birth andbreeding. At the end of fifteen months the level was finished, and theexcavation completed beneath the gallery, and the two workmen coulddistinctly hear the measured tread of the sentinel as he paced to andfro over their heads.

Compelled, as they were, to await a night sufficiently dark to favortheir flight, they were obliged to defer their final attempt till thatauspicious moment should arrive; their greatest dread now was lest thestone through which the sentry was doomed to fall should give way beforeits right time, and this they had in some measure provided against bypropping it up with a small beam which they had discovered in thewalls through which they had worked their way. Dantes was occupied inarranging this piece of wood when he heard Faria, who had remainedin Edmond's cell for the purpose of cutting a peg to secure theirrope-ladder, call to him in a tone indicative of great suffering. Danteshastened to his dungeon, where he found him standing in the middle ofthe room, pale as death, his forehead streaming with perspiration, andhis hands clinched tightly together.

"Gracious heavens!" exclaimed Dantes, "what is the matter? what hashappened?"

"Quick! quick!" returned the abbe, "listen to what I have to say. "Dantes looked in fear and wonder at the livid countenance of Faria, whose eyes, already dull and sunken, were surrounded by purple circles, while his lips were white as those of a corpse, and his very hair seemedto stand on end.

"Tell me, I beseech you, what ails you?" cried Dantes, letting hischisel fall to the floor.

"Alas, " faltered out the abbe, "all is over with me. I am seized with aterrible, perhaps mortal illness; I can feel that the paroxysm isfast approaching. I had a similar attack the year previous to myimprisonment. This malady admits but of one remedy; I will tell you whatthat is. Go into my cell as quickly as you can; draw out one of the feetthat support the bed; you will find it has been hollowed out for thepurpose of containing a small phial you will see there half-filled witha red-looking fluid. Bring it to me--or rather--no, no!--I may be foundhere, therefore help me back to my room while I have the strength todrag myself along. Who knows what may happen, or how long the attack maylast?"

In spite of the magnitude of the misfortune which thus suddenlyfrustrated his hopes, Dantes did not lose his presence of mind, butdescended into the passage, dragging his unfortunate companion with him;then, half-carrying, half-supporting him, he managed to reach the abbe'schamber, when he immediately laid the sufferer on his bed.

"Thanks, " said the poor abbe, shivering as though his veins were filledwith ice. "I am about to be seized with a fit of catalepsy; when itcomes to its height I shall probably lie still and motionless as thoughdead, uttering neither sigh nor groan. On the other hand, the symptomsmay be much more violent, and cause me to fall into fearful convulsions, foam at the mouth, and cry out loudly. Take care my cries are not heard, for if they are it is more than probable I should be removed to anotherpart of the prison, and we be separated forever. When I become quitemotionless, cold, and rigid as a corpse, then, and not before, --becareful about this, --force open my teeth with the knife, pour from eightto ten drops of the liquor contained in the phial down my throat, and Imay perhaps revive. "

"Perhaps!" exclaimed Dantes in grief-stricken tones.

"Help! help!" cried the abbe, "I--I--die--I"--

So sudden and violent was the fit that the unfortunate prisoner wasunable to complete the sentence; a violent convulsion shook his wholeframe, his eyes started from their sockets, his mouth was drawn on oneside, his cheeks became purple, he struggled, foamed, dashed himselfabout, and uttered the most dreadful cries, which, however, Dantesprevented from being heard by covering his head with the blanket. Thefit lasted two hours; then, more helpless than an infant, and colder andpaler than marble, more crushed and broken than a reed trampled underfoot, he fell back, doubled up in one last convulsion, and became asrigid as a corpse.

Edmond waited till life seemed extinct in the body of his friend, then, taking up the knife, he with difficulty forced open the closelyfixed jaws, carefully administered the appointed number of drops, andanxiously awaited the result. An hour passed away and the old man gaveno sign of returning animation. Dantes began to fear he had delayed toolong ere he administered the remedy, and, thrusting his hands into hishair, continued gazing on the lifeless features of his friend. At lengtha slight color tinged the livid cheeks, consciousness returned to thedull, open eyeballs, a faint sigh issued from the lips, and the sufferermade a feeble effort to move.

"He is saved! he is saved!" cried Dantes in a paroxysm of delight.

The sick man was not yet able to speak, but he pointed with evidentanxiety towards the door. Dantes listened, and plainly distinguished theapproaching steps of the jailer. It was therefore near seven o'clock;but Edmond's anxiety had put all thoughts of time out of his head. Theyoung man sprang to the entrance, darted through it, carefully drawingthe stone over the opening, and hurried to his cell. He had scarcelydone so before the door opened, and the jailer saw the prisoner seatedas usual on the side of his bed. Almost before the key had turned in thelock, and before the departing steps of the jailer had died away inthe long corridor he had to traverse, Dantes, whose restless anxietyconcerning his friend left him no desire to touch the food brought him, hurried back to the abbe's chamber, and raising the stone by pressinghis head against it, was soon beside the sick man's couch. Faria hadnow fully regained his consciousness, but he still lay helpless andexhausted.

"I did not expect to see you again, " said he feebly, to Dantes.

"And why not?" asked the young man. "Did you fancy yourself dying?"

"No, I had no such idea; but, knowing that all was ready for flight, Ithought you might have made your escape. " The deep glow of indignationsuffused the cheeks of Dantes.

"Without you? Did you really think me capable of that?"

"At least, " said the abbe, "I now see how wrong such an opinion wouldhave been. Alas, alas! I am fearfully exhausted and debilitated by thisattack. "

"Be of good cheer, " replied Dantes; "your strength will return. " Andas he spoke he seated himself near the bed beside Faria, and took hishands. The abbe shook his head.

"The last attack I had, " said he, "lasted but half an hour, and after itI was hungry, and got up without help; now I can move neither my rightarm nor leg, and my head seems uncomfortable, which shows that therehas been a suffusion of blood on the brain. The third attack will eithercarry me off, or leave me paralyzed for life. "

"No, no, " cried Dantes; "you are mistaken--you will not die! And yourthird attack (if, indeed, you should have another) will find you atliberty. We shall save you another time, as we have done this, only witha better chance of success, because we shall be able to command everyrequisite assistance. "

"My good Edmond, " answered the abbe, "be not deceived. The attack whichhas just passed away, condemns me forever to the walls of a prison. Nonecan fly from a dungeon who cannot walk. "

"Well, we will wait, --a week, a month, two months, if need be, --andmeanwhile your strength will return. Everything is in readiness for ourflight, and we can select any time we choose. As soon as you feel ableto swim we will go. "

"I shall never swim again, " replied Faria. "This arm is paralyzed; notfor a time, but forever. Lift it, and judge if I am mistaken. " Theyoung man raised the arm, which fell back by its own weight, perfectlyinanimate and helpless. A sigh escaped him.

"You are convinced now, Edmond, are you not?" asked the abbe. "Dependupon it, I know what I say. Since the first attack I experienced of thismalady, I have continually reflected on it. Indeed, I expected it, forit is a family inheritance; both my father and grandfather died of itin a third attack. The physician who prepared for me the remedy I havetwice successfully taken, was no other than the celebrated Cabanis, andhe predicted a similar end for me. "

"The physician may be mistaken!" exclaimed Dantes. "And as for your poorarm, what difference will that make? I can take you on my shoulders, andswim for both of us. "

"My son, " said the abbe, "you, who are a sailor and a swimmer, must knowas well as I do that a man so loaded would sink before he had done fiftystrokes. Cease, then, to allow yourself to be duped by vain hopes, thateven your own excellent heart refuses to believe in. Here I shallremain till the hour of my deliverance arrives, and that, in all humanprobability, will be the hour of my death. As for you, who are youngand active, delay not on my account, but fly--go--I give you back yourpromise. "

"It is well, " said Dantes. "Then I shall also remain. " Then, rising andextending his hand with an air of solemnity over the old man's head, heslowly added, "By the blood of Christ I swear never to leave you whileyou live. "

Faria gazed fondly on his noble-minded, single-hearted, high-principledyoung friend, and read in his countenance ample confirmation of thesincerity of his devotion and the loyalty of his purpose.

"Thanks, " murmured the invalid, extending one hand. "I accept. You mayone of these days reap the reward of your disinterested devotion. Butas I cannot, and you will not, quit this place, it becomes necessaryto fill up the excavation beneath the soldier's gallery; he might, bychance, hear the hollow sound of his footsteps, and call the attentionof his officer to the circumstance. That would bring about a discoverywhich would inevitably lead to our being separated. Go, then, and setabout this work, in which, unhappily, I can offer you no assistance;keep at it all night, if necessary, and do not return here to-morrowtill after the jailer his visited me. I shall have something of thegreatest importance to communicate to you. "

Dantes took the hand of the abbe in his, and affectionately pressedit. Faria smiled encouragingly on him, and the young man retired to histask, in the spirit of obedience and respect which he had sworn to showtowards his aged friend.

Chapter 18. The Treasure.

When Dantes returned next morning to the chamber of his companion incaptivity, he found Faria seated and looking composed. In the ray oflight which entered by the narrow window of his cell, he held open inhis left hand, of which alone, it will be recollected, he retained theuse, a sheet of paper, which, from being constantly rolled into a smallcompass, had the form of a cylinder, and was not easily kept open. Hedid not speak, but showed the paper to Dantes.

"What is that?" he inquired.

"Look at it, " said the abbe with a smile.

"I have looked at it with all possible attention, " said Dantes, "and Ionly see a half-burnt paper, on which are traces of Gothic charactersinscribed with a peculiar kind of ink. "

"This paper, my friend, " said Faria, "I may now avow to you, since Ihave the proof of your fidelity--this paper is my treasure, of which, from this day forth, one-half belongs to you. "

The sweat started forth on Dantes brow. Until this day and for howlong a time!--he had refrained from talking of the treasure, which hadbrought upon the abbe the accusation of madness. With his instinctivedelicacy Edmond had preferred avoiding any touch on this painful chord, and Faria had been equally silent. He had taken the silence of the oldman for a return to reason; and now these few words uttered by Faria, after so painful a crisis, seemed to indicate a serious relapse intomental alienation.

"Your treasure?" stammered Dantes. Faria smiled.

"Yes, " said he. "You have, indeed, a noble nature, Edmond, and I seeby your paleness and agitation what is passing in your heart at thismoment. No, be assured, I am not mad. This treasure exists, Dantes, andif I have not been allowed to possess it, you will. Yes--you. No onewould listen or believe me, because everyone thought me mad; but you, who must know that I am not, listen to me, and believe me so afterwardsif you will. "

"Alas, " murmured Edmond to himself, "this is a terrible relapse! Therewas only this blow wanting. " Then he said aloud, "My dear friend, yourattack has, perhaps, fatigued you; had you not better repose awhile?To-morrow, if you will, I will hear your narrative; but to-day I wishto nurse you carefully. Besides, " he said, "a treasure is not a thing weneed hurry about. "

"On the contrary, it is a matter of the utmost importance, Edmond!"replied the old man. "Who knows if to-morrow, or the next day after, the third attack may not come on? and then must not all be over? Yes, indeed, I have often thought with a bitter joy that these riches, whichwould make the wealth of a dozen families, will be forever lost to thosemen who persecute me. This idea was one of vengeance to me, and I tastedit slowly in the night of my dungeon and the despair of my captivity. But now I have forgiven the world for the love of you; now that I seeyou, young and with a promising future, --now that I think of all thatmay result to you in the good fortune of such a disclosure, I shudderat any delay, and tremble lest I should not assure to one as worthy asyourself the possession of so vast an amount of hidden wealth. " Edmondturned away his head with a sigh.

"You persist in your incredulity, Edmond, " continued Faria. "My wordshave not convinced you. I see you require proofs. Well, then, read thispaper, which I have never shown to any one. "

"To-morrow, my dear friend, " said Edmond, desirous of not yielding tothe old man's madness. "I thought it was understood that we should nottalk of that until to-morrow. "

"Then we will not talk of it until to-morrow; but read this paperto-day. "

"I will not irritate him, " thought Edmond, and taking the paper, of which half was wanting, --having been burnt, no doubt, by someaccident, --he read:--

"This treasure, which may amount to two. . . Of Roman crowns in the mostdistant a. . . Of the second opening wh. . . Declare to belong to him alo. . . Heir. "25th April, 149-"

"Well!" said Faria, when the young man had finished reading it.

"Why, " replied Dantes, "I see nothing but broken lines and unconnectedwords, which are rendered illegible by fire. "

"Yes, to you, my friend, who read them for the first time; but notfor me, who have grown pale over them by many nights' study, and havereconstructed every phrase, completed every thought. "

"And do you believe you have discovered the hidden meaning?"

"I am sure I have, and you shall judge for yourself; but first listen tothe history of this paper. "

"Silence!" exclaimed Dantes. "Steps approach--I go--adieu. "

And Dantes, happy to escape the history and explanation which would besure to confirm his belief in his friend's mental instability, glidedlike a snake along the narrow passage; while Faria, restored by hisalarm to a certain amount of activity, pushed the stone into place withhis foot, and covered it with a mat in order the more effectually toavoid discovery.

It was the governor, who, hearing of Faria's illness from the jailer, had come in person to see him.

Faria sat up to receive him, avoiding all gestures in order that hemight conceal from the governor the paralysis that had already halfstricken him with death. His fear was lest the governor, touchedwith pity, might order him to be removed to better quarters, and thusseparate him from his young companion. But fortunately this was not thecase, and the governor left him, convinced that the poor madman, forwhom in his heart he felt a kind of affection, was only troubled with aslight indisposition.

During this time, Edmond, seated on his bed with his head in his hands, tried to collect his scattered thoughts. Faria, since their firstacquaintance, had been on all points so rational and logical, sowonderfully sagacious, in fact, that he could not understand how so muchwisdom on all points could be allied with madness. Was Faria deceived asto his treasure, or was all the world deceived as to Faria?

Dantes remained in his cell all day, not daring to return to his friend, thinking thus to defer the moment when he should be convinced, once forall, that the abbe was mad--such a conviction would be so terrible!

But, towards the evening after the hour for the customary visit had goneby, Faria, not seeing the young man appear, tried to move and get overthe distance which separated them. Edmond shuddered when he heard thepainful efforts which the old man made to drag himself along; hisleg was inert, and he could no longer make use of one arm. Edmond wasobliged to assist him, for otherwise he would not have been able toenter by the small aperture which led to Dantes' chamber.

"Here I am, pursuing you remorselessly, " he said with a benignant smile. "You thought to escape my munificence, but it is in vain. Listen to me. "

Edmond saw there was no escape, and placing the old man on his bed, heseated himself on the stool beside him.

"You know, " said the abbe, "that I was the secretary and intimate friendof Cardinal Spada, the last of the princes of that name. I owe to thisworthy lord all the happiness I ever knew. He was not rich, although thewealth of his family had passed into a proverb, and I heard the phrasevery often, 'As rich as a Spada. ' But he, like public rumor, lived onthis reputation for wealth; his palace was my paradise. I was tutor tohis nephews, who are dead; and when he was alone in the world, I triedby absolute devotion to his will, to make up to him all he had done forme during ten years of unremitting kindness. The cardinal's house hadno secrets for me. I had often seen my noble patron annotating ancientvolumes, and eagerly searching amongst dusty family manuscripts. One daywhen I was reproaching him for his unavailing searches, and deploringthe prostration of mind that followed them, he looked at me, and, smiling bitterly, opened a volume relating to the History of the City ofRome. There, in the twentieth chapter of the Life of Pope Alexander VI. , were the following lines, which I can never forget:--

"'The great wars of Romagna had ended; Caesar Borgia, who had completedhis conquest, had need of money to purchase all Italy. The pope had alsoneed of money to bring matters to an end with Louis XII. King of France, who was formidable still in spite of his recent reverses; and it wasnecessary, therefore, to have recourse to some profitable scheme, which was a matter of great difficulty in the impoverished conditionof exhausted Italy. His holiness had an idea. He determined to make twocardinals. '

"By choosing two of the greatest personages of Rome, especially richmen--this was the return the holy father looked for. In the first place, he could sell the great appointments and splendid offices which thecardinals already held; and then he had the two hats to sell besides. There was a third point in view, which will appear hereafter. Thepope and Caesar Borgia first found the two future cardinals; they wereGiovanni Rospigliosi, who held four of the highest dignities of theHoly See, and Caesar Spada, one of the noblest and richest of the Romannobility; both felt the high honor of such a favor from the pope. They were ambitious, and Caesar Borgia soon found purchasers for theirappointments. The result was, that Rospigliosi and Spada paid for beingcardinals, and eight other persons paid for the offices the cardinalsheld before their elevation, and thus eight hundred thousand crownsentered into the coffers of the speculators.

"It is time now to proceed to the last part of the speculation. The popeheaped attentions upon Rospigliosi and Spada, conferred upon them theinsignia of the cardinalate, and induced them to arrange their affairsand take up their residence at Rome. Then the pope and Caesar Borgiainvited the two cardinals to dinner. This was a matter of disputebetween the holy father and his son. Caesar thought they could make useof one of the means which he always had ready for his friends, that isto say, in the first place, the famous key which was given to certainpersons with the request that they go and open a designated cupboard. This key was furnished with a small iron point, --a negligence on thepart of the locksmith. When this was pressed to effect the opening ofthe cupboard, of which the lock was difficult, the person was prickedby this small point, and died next day. Then there was the ring with thelion's head, which Caesar wore when he wanted to greet his friends witha clasp of the hand. The lion bit the hand thus favored, and at theend of twenty-four hours, the bite was mortal. Caesar proposed to hisfather, that they should either ask the cardinals to open the cupboard, or shake hands with them; but Alexander VI. , replied: 'Now as to theworthy cardinals, Spada and Rospigliosi, let us ask both of them todinner, something tells me that we shall get that money back. Besides, you forget, Caesar, an indigestion declares itself immediately, whilea prick or a bite occasions a delay of a day or two. ' Caesar gaveway before such cogent reasoning, and the cardinals were consequentlyinvited to dinner.

"The table was laid in a vineyard belonging to the pope, near SanPierdarena, a charming retreat which the cardinals knew very well byreport. Rospigliosi, quite set up with his new dignities, went with agood appetite and his most ingratiating manner. Spada, a prudent man, and greatly attached to his only nephew, a young captain of the highestpromise, took paper and pen, and made his will. He then sent word to hisnephew to wait for him near the vineyard; but it appeared the servantdid not find him.

"Spada knew what these invitations meant; since Christianity, soeminently civilizing, had made progress in Rome, it was no longer acenturion who came from the tyrant with a message, 'Caesar wills thatyou die. ' but it was a legate a latere, who came with a smile on hislips to say from the pope, 'His holiness requests you to dine with him. '

"Spada set out about two o'clock to San Pierdarena. The pope awaitedhim. The first sight that attracted the eyes of Spada was that ofhis nephew, in full costume, and Caesar Borgia paying him most markedattentions. Spada turned pale, as Caesar looked at him with an ironicalair, which proved that he had anticipated all, and that the snare waswell spread. They began dinner and Spada was only able to inquire of hisnephew if he had received his message. The nephew replied no; perfectlycomprehending the meaning of the question. It was too late, for he hadalready drunk a glass of excellent wine, placed for him expressly by thepope's butler. Spada at the same moment saw another bottle approach him, which he was pressed to taste. An hour afterwards a physician declaredthey were both poisoned through eating mushrooms. Spada died on thethreshold of the vineyard; the nephew expired at his own door, makingsigns which his wife could not comprehend.

"Then Caesar and the pope hastened to lay hands on the heritage, underpresence of seeking for the papers of the dead man. But the inheritanceconsisted in this only, a scrap of paper on which Spada had written:--'Ibequeath to my beloved nephew my coffers, my books, and, amongst others, my breviary with the gold corners, which I beg he will preserve inremembrance of his affectionate uncle. '

"The heirs sought everywhere, admired the breviary, laid hands on thefurniture, and were greatly astonished that Spada, the rich man, wasreally the most miserable of uncles--no treasures--unless they werethose of science, contained in the library and laboratories. That wasall. Caesar and his father searched, examined, scrutinized, but foundnothing, or at least very little; not exceeding a few thousand crowns inplate, and about the same in ready money; but the nephew had time to sayto his wife before he expired: 'Look well among my uncle's papers; thereis a will. '

"They sought even more thoroughly than the august heirs had done, but itwas fruitless. There were two palaces and a vineyard behind the PalatineHill; but in these days landed property had not much value, and the twopalaces and the vineyard remained to the family since they were beneaththe rapacity of the pope and his son. Months and years rolled on. Alexander VI. Died, poisoned, --you know by what mistake. Caesar, poisoned at the same time, escaped by shedding his skin like a snake;but the new skin was spotted by the poison till it looked like atiger's. Then, compelled to quit Rome, he went and got himself obscurelykilled in a night skirmish, scarcely noticed in history. After thepope's death and his son's exile, it was supposed that the Spada familywould resume the splendid position they had held before the cardinal'stime; but this was not the case. The Spadas remained in doubtful ease, a mystery hung over this dark affair, and the public rumor was, thatCaesar, a better politician than his father, had carried off from thepope the fortune of the two cardinals. I say the two, because CardinalRospigliosi, who had not taken any precaution, was completely despoiled.

"Up to this point, " said Faria, interrupting the thread of hisnarrative, "this seems to you very meaningless, no doubt, eh?"

"Oh, my friend, " cried Dantes, "on the contrary, it seems as if I werereading a most interesting narrative; go on, I beg of you. "

"I will. "

"The family began to get accustomed to their obscurity. Years rolledon, and amongst the descendants some were soldiers, others diplomatists;some churchmen, some bankers; some grew rich, and some were ruined. Icome now to the last of the family, whose secretary I was--the Count ofSpada. I had often heard him complain of the disproportion of his rankwith his fortune; and I advised him to invest all he had in an annuity. He did so, and thus doubled his income. The celebrated breviary remainedin the family, and was in the count's possession. It had been handeddown from father to son; for the singular clause of the only willthat had been found, had caused it to be regarded as a genuine relic, preserved in the family with superstitious veneration. It was anilluminated book, with beautiful Gothic characters, and so weighty withgold, that a servant always carried it before the cardinal on days ofgreat solemnity.

"At the sight of papers of all sorts, --titles, contracts, parchments, which were kept in the archives of the family, all descending fromthe poisoned cardinal, I in my turn examined the immense bundles ofdocuments, like twenty servitors, stewards, secretaries before me; butin spite of the most exhaustive researches, I found--nothing. Yet I hadread, I had even written a precise history of the Borgia family, forthe sole purpose of assuring myself whether any increase of fortune hadoccurred to them on the death of the Cardinal Caesar Spada; but couldonly trace the acquisition of the property of the Cardinal Rospigliosi, his companion in misfortune.

"I was then almost assured that the inheritance had neither profited theBorgias nor the family, but had remained unpossessed like the treasuresof the Arabian Nights, which slept in the bosom of the earth under theeyes of the genie. I searched, ransacked, counted, calculated a thousandand a thousand times the income and expenditure of the family for threehundred years. It was useless. I remained in my ignorance, and theCount of Spada in his poverty. My patron died. He had reserved fromhis annuity his family papers, his library, composed of five thousandvolumes, and his famous breviary. All these he bequeathed to me, with athousand Roman crowns, which he had in ready money, on condition that Iwould have anniversary masses said for the repose of his soul, and thatI would draw up a genealogical tree and history of his house. All this Idid scrupulously. Be easy, my dear Edmond, we are near the conclusion.

"In 1807, a month before I was arrested, and a fortnight after the deathof the Count of Spada, on the 25th of December (you will see presentlyhow the date became fixed in my memory), I was reading, for thethousandth time, the papers I was arranging, for the palace was soldto a stranger, and I was going to leave Rome and settle at Florence, intending to take with me twelve thousand francs I possessed, mylibrary, and the famous breviary, when, tired with my constant laborat the same thing, and overcome by a heavy dinner I had eaten, myhead dropped on my hands, and I fell asleep about three o'clock in theafternoon. I awoke as the clock was striking six. I raised my head;I was in utter darkness. I rang for a light, but as no one came, Idetermined to find one for myself. It was indeed but anticipating thesimple manners which I should soon be under the necessity of adopting. I took a wax-candle in one hand, and with the other groped about for apiece of paper (my match-box being empty), with which I proposed toget a light from the small flame still playing on the embers. Fearing, however, to make use of any valuable piece of paper, I hesitated for amoment, then recollected that I had seen in the famous breviary, whichwas on the table beside me, an old paper quite yellow with age, andwhich had served as a marker for centuries, kept there by the request ofthe heirs. I felt for it, found it, twisted it up together, and puttingit into the expiring flame, set light to it.

"But beneath my fingers, as if by magic, in proportion as the fireascended, I saw yellowish characters appear on the paper. I grasped itin my hand, put out the flame as quickly as I could, lighted my taperin the fire itself, and opened the crumpled paper with inexpressibleemotion, recognizing, when I had done so, that these characters had beentraced in mysterious and sympathetic ink, only appearing when exposed tothe fire; nearly one-third of the paper had been consumed by the flame. It was that paper you read this morning; read it again, Dantes, and thenI will complete for you the incomplete words and unconnected sense. "

Faria, with an air of triumph, offered the paper to Dantes, who thistime read the following words, traced with an ink of a reddish colorresembling rust:--

"This 25th day of April, 1498, be. . . Alexander VI. , and fearing that not. . . He may desire to become my heir, and re. . . And Bentivoglio, who were poisoned, . . . My sole heir, that I have bu. . . And has visited with me, that is, in. . . Island of Monte Cristo, all I poss. . . Jewels, diamonds, gems; that I alone. . . May amount to nearly two mil. . . Will find on raising the twentieth ro. . . Creek to the east in a right line. Two open. . . In these caves; the treasure is in the furthest a. . . Which treasure I bequeath and leave en. . . As my sole heir. "25th April, 1498. "Caes. . .

"And now, " said the abbe, "read this other paper;" and he presented toDantes a second leaf with fragments of lines written on it, which Edmondread as follows:--

". . . Ing invited to dine by his Holiness . . . Content with making me pay for my hat, . . . Serves for me the fate of Cardinals Caprara . . . I declare to my nephew, Guido Spada . . . Ried in a place he knows . . . The caves of the small . . . Essed of ingots, gold, money, . . . Know of the existence of this treasure, which . . . Lions of Roman crowns, and which he . . . Ck from the small . . . Ings have been made . . . Ngle in the second; . . . Tire to him . . . Ar Spada. "

Faria followed him with an excited look, "and now, " he said, when he sawthat Dantes had read the last line, "put the two fragments together, andjudge for yourself. " Dantes obeyed, and the conjointed pieces gave thefollowing:--

"This 25th day of April, 1498, be. . . Ing invited to dine by his HolinessAlexander VI. , and fearing that not. . . Content with making me pay for myhat, he may desire to become my heir, and re. . . Serves for me the fate ofCardinals Caprara and Bentivoglio, who were poisoned. . . I declare to mynephew, Guido Spada, my sole heir, that I have bu. . . Ried in a placehe knows and has visited with me, that is, in. . . The caves of the smallIsland of Monte Cristo all I poss. . . Ssed of ingots, gold, money, jewels, diamonds, gems; that I alone. . . Know of the existence of this treasure, which may amount to nearly two mil. . . Lions of Roman crowns, and which hewill find on raising the twentieth ro. . . Ck from the small creek to theeast in a right line. Two open. . . Ings have been made in these caves;the treasure is in the furthest a. . . Ngle in the second; which treasure Ibequeath and leave en. . . Tire to him as my sole heir. "25th April, 1498. "Caes. . . Ar Spada. "

"Well, do you comprehend now?" inquired Faria.

"It is the declaration of Cardinal Spada, and the will so long soughtfor, " replied Edmond, still incredulous.

"Yes; a thousand times, yes!"

"And who completed it as it now is?"

"I did. Aided by the remaining fragment, I guessed the rest; measuringthe length of the lines by those of the paper, and divining the hiddenmeaning by means of what was in part revealed, as we are guided in acavern by the small ray of light above us. "

"And what did you do when you arrived at this conclusion?"

"I resolved to set out, and did set out at that very instant, carryingwith me the beginning of my great work, the unity of the Italiankingdom; but for some time the imperial police (who at this period, quite contrary to what Napoleon desired so soon as he had a son born tohim, wished for a partition of provinces) had their eyes on me; and myhasty departure, the cause of which they were unable to guess, havingaroused their suspicions, I was arrested at the very moment I wasleaving Piombino.

"Now, " continued Faria, addressing Dantes with an almost paternalexpression, "now, my dear fellow, you know as much as I do myself. Ifwe ever escape together, half this treasure is yours; if I die here, andyou escape alone, the whole belongs to you. "

"But, " inquired Dantes hesitating, "has this treasure no more legitimatepossessor in the world than ourselves?"

"No, no, be easy on that score; the family is extinct. The last Countof Spada, moreover, made me his heir, bequeathing to me this symbolicbreviary, he bequeathed to me all it contained; no, no, make your mindsatisfied on that point. If we lay hands on this fortune, we may enjoyit without remorse. "

"And you say this treasure amounts to"--

"Two millions of Roman crowns; nearly thirteen millions of ourmoney. " [*]

* $2, 600, 000 in 1894.

"Impossible!" said Dantes, staggered at the enormous amount.

"Impossible? and why?" asked the old man. "The Spada family was one ofthe oldest and most powerful families of the fifteenth century; and inthose times, when other opportunities for investment were wanting, suchaccumulations of gold and jewels were by no means rare; there are atthis day Roman families perishing of hunger, though possessed of nearlya million in diamonds and jewels, handed down by entail, and which theycannot touch. " Edmond thought he was in a dream--he wavered betweenincredulity and joy.

"I have only kept this secret so long from you, " continued Faria, "thatI might test your character, and then surprise you. Had we escapedbefore my attack of catalepsy, I should have conducted you to MonteCristo; now, " he added, with a sigh, "it is you who will conduct methither. Well, Dantes, you do not thank me?"

"This treasure belongs to you, my dear friend, " replied Dantes, "and toyou only. I have no right to it. I am no relation of yours. "

"You are my son, Dantes, " exclaimed the old man. "You are the child ofmy captivity. My profession condemns me to celibacy. God has sent youto me to console, at one and the same time, the man who could not be afather, and the prisoner who could not get free. " And Faria extended thearm of which alone the use remained to him to the young man who threwhimself upon his neck and wept.

Chapter 19. The Third Attack.

Now that this treasure, which had so long been the object of the abbe'smeditations, could insure the future happiness of him whom Faria reallyloved as a son, it had doubled its value in his eyes, and every day heexpatiated on the amount, explaining to Dantes all the good which, withthirteen or fourteen millions of francs, a man could do in these days tohis friends; and then Dantes' countenance became gloomy, for the oath ofvengeance he had taken recurred to his memory, and he reflected how muchill, in these times, a man with thirteen or fourteen millions could doto his enemies.

The abbe did not know the Island of Monte Cristo; but Dantes knewit, and had often passed it, situated twenty-five miles from Pianosa, between Corsica and the Island of Elba, and had once touched there. Thisisland was, always had been, and still is, completely deserted. It is arock of almost conical form, which looks as though it had been thrustup by volcanic force from the depth to the surface of the ocean. Dantesdrew a plan of the island for Faria, and Faria gave Dantes advice as tothe means he should employ to recover the treasure. But Dantes was farfrom being as enthusiastic and confident as the old man. It was past aquestion now that Faria was not a lunatic, and the way in which he hadachieved the discovery, which had given rise to the suspicion of hismadness, increased Edmond's admiration of him; but at the same timeDantes could not believe that the deposit, supposing it had everexisted, still existed; and though he considered the treasure as by nomeans chimerical, he yet believed it was no longer there.

However, as if fate resolved on depriving the prisoners of their lastchance, and making them understand that they were condemned to perpetualimprisonment, a new misfortune befell them; the gallery on the seaside, which had long been in ruins, was rebuilt. They had repaired itcompletely, and stopped up with vast masses of stone the hole Dantes hadpartly filled in. But for this precaution, which, it will be remembered, the abbe had made to Edmond, the misfortune would have been stillgreater, for their attempt to escape would have been detected, and theywould undoubtedly have been separated. Thus a new, a stronger, and moreinexorable barrier was interposed to cut off the realization of theirhopes.

"You see, " said the young man, with an air of sorrowful resignation, toFaria, "that God deems it right to take from me any claim to merit forwhat you call my devotion to you. I have promised to remain forever withyou, and now I could not break my promise if I would. The treasure willbe no more mine than yours, and neither of us will quit this prison. Butmy real treasure is not that, my dear friend, which awaits me beneaththe sombre rocks of Monte Cristo, it is your presence, our livingtogether five or six hours a day, in spite of our jailers; it is therays of intelligence you have elicited from my brain, the languages youhave implanted in my memory, and which have taken root there with alltheir philological ramifications. These different sciences that you havemade so easy to me by the depth of the knowledge you possess of them, and the clearness of the principles to which you have reduced them--thisis my treasure, my beloved friend, and with this you have made me richand happy. Believe me, and take comfort, this is better for me than tonsof gold and cases of diamonds, even were they not as problematical asthe clouds we see in the morning floating over the sea, which we takefor terra firma, and which evaporate and vanish as we draw near tothem. To have you as long as possible near me, to hear your eloquentspeech, --which embellishes my mind, strengthens my soul, and makes mywhole frame capable of great and terrible things, if I should ever befree, --so fills my whole existence, that the despair to which I was juston the point of yielding when I knew you, has no longer any hold overme; and this--this is my fortune--not chimerical, but actual. I owe youmy real good, my present happiness; and all the sovereigns of the earth, even Caesar Borgia himself, could not deprive me of this. "

Thus, if not actually happy, yet the days these two unfortunates passedtogether went quickly. Faria, who for so long a time had kept silenceas to the treasure, now perpetually talked of it. As he had prophesiedwould be the case, he remained paralyzed in the right arm and the leftleg, and had given up all hope of ever enjoying it himself. But he wascontinually thinking over some means of escape for his young companion, and anticipating the pleasure he would enjoy. For fear the letter mightbe some day lost or stolen, he compelled Dantes to learn it by heart;and Dantes knew it from the first to the last word. Then he destroyedthe second portion, assured that if the first were seized, no one wouldbe able to discover its real meaning. Whole hours sometimes passed whileFaria was giving instructions to Dantes, --instructions which were toserve him when he was at liberty. Then, once free, from the day and hourand moment when he was so, he could have but one only thought, whichwas, to gain Monte Cristo by some means, and remain there alone undersome pretext which would arouse no suspicions; and once there, toendeavor to find the wonderful caverns, and search in the appointedspot, --the appointed spot, be it remembered, being the farthest angle inthe second opening.

In the meanwhile the hours passed, if not rapidly, at least tolerably. Faria, as we have said, without having recovered the use of his handand foot, had regained all the clearness of his understanding, and hadgradually, besides the moral instructions we have detailed, taughthis youthful companion the patient and sublime duty of a prisoner, who learns to make something from nothing. They were thus perpetuallyemployed, --Faria, that he might not see himself grow old; Dantes, forfear of recalling the almost extinct past which now only floated in hismemory like a distant light wandering in the night. So life went on forthem as it does for those who are not victims of misfortune and whoseactivities glide along mechanically and tranquilly beneath the eye ofprovidence.

But beneath this superficial calm there were in the heart of the youngman, and perhaps in that of the old man, many repressed desires, manystifled sighs, which found vent when Faria was left alone, and whenEdmond returned to his cell. One night Edmond awoke suddenly, believingthat he heard some one calling him. He opened his eyes upon utterdarkness. His name, or rather a plaintive voice which essayed topronounce his name, reached him. He sat up in bed and a cold sweatbroke out upon his brow. Undoubtedly the call came from Faria's dungeon. "Alas, " murmured Edmond; "can it be?"

He moved his bed, drew up the stone, rushed into the passage, andreached the opposite extremity; the secret entrance was open. By thelight of the wretched and wavering lamp, of which we have spoken, Dantessaw the old man, pale, but yet erect, clinging to the bedstead. Hisfeatures were writhing with those horrible symptoms which he alreadyknew, and which had so seriously alarmed him when he saw them for thefirst time.

"Alas, my dear friend, " said Faria in a resigned tone, "you understand, do you not, and I need not attempt to explain to you?"

Edmond uttered a cry of agony, and, quite out of his senses, rushedtowards the door, exclaiming, "Help, help!" Faria had just sufficientstrength to restrain him.

"Silence, " he said, "or you are lost. We must now only think of you, mydear friend, and so act as to render your captivity supportable or yourflight possible. It would require years to do again what I have donehere, and the results would be instantly destroyed if our jailersknew we had communicated with each other. Besides, be assured, my dearEdmond, the dungeon I am about to leave will not long remain empty; someother unfortunate being will soon take my place, and to him you willappear like an angel of salvation. Perhaps he will be young, strong, andenduring, like yourself, and will aid you in your escape, while I havebeen but a hindrance. You will no longer have half a dead body tiedto you as a drag to all your movements. At length providence has donesomething for you; he restores to you more than he takes away, and itwas time I should die. "

Edmond could only clasp his hands and exclaim, "Oh, my friend, myfriend, speak not thus!" and then resuming all his presence of mind, which had for a moment staggered under this blow, and his strength, which had failed at the words of the old man, he said, "Oh, I have savedyou once, and I will save you a second time!" And raising the footof the bed, he drew out the phial, still a third filled with the redliquor.

"See, " he exclaimed, "there remains still some of the magic draught. Quick, quick! tell me what I must do this time; are there any freshinstructions? Speak, my friend; I listen. "

"There is not a hope, " replied Faria, shaking his head, "but no matter;God wills it that man whom he has created, and in whose heart he hasso profoundly rooted the love of life, should do all in his power topreserve that existence, which, however painful it may be, is yet alwaysso dear. "

"Oh, yes, yes!" exclaimed Dantes; "and I tell you that I will save youyet. "

"Well, then, try. The cold gains upon me. I feel the blood flowingtowards my brain. These horrible chills, which make my teeth chatterand seem to dislocate my bones, begin to pervade my whole frame; in fiveminutes the malady will reach its height, and in a quarter of an hourthere will be nothing left of me but a corpse. "

"Oh!" exclaimed Dantes, his heart wrung with anguish.

"Do as you did before, only do not wait so long, all the springs oflife are now exhausted in me, and death, " he continued, looking at hisparalyzed arm and leg, "has but half its work to do. If, after havingmade me swallow twelve drops instead of ten, you see that I do notrecover, then pour the rest down my throat. Now lift me on my bed, for Ican no longer support myself. "

Edmond took the old man in his arms, and laid him on the bed.

"And now, my dear friend, " said Faria, "sole consolation of my wretchedexistence, --you whom heaven gave me somewhat late, but still gave me, a priceless gift, and for which I am most grateful, --at the moment ofseparating from you forever, I wish you all the happiness and all theprosperity you so well deserve. My son, I bless thee!" The young mancast himself on his knees, leaning his head against the old man's bed.

"Listen, now, to what I say in this my dying moment. The treasure of theSpadas exists. God grants me the boon of vision unrestricted by time orspace. I see it in the depths of the inner cavern. My eyes pierce theinmost recesses of the earth, and are dazzled at the sight of so muchriches. If you do escape, remember that the poor abbe, whom all theworld called mad, was not so. Hasten to Monte Cristo--avail yourselfof the fortune--for you have indeed suffered long enough. " A violentconvulsion attacked the old man. Dantes raised his head and saw Faria'seyes injected with blood. It seemed as if a flow of blood had ascendedfrom the chest to the head.

"Adieu, adieu!" murmured the old man, clasping Edmond's handconvulsively--"adieu!"

"Oh, no, --no, not yet, " he cried; "do not forsake me! Oh, succor him!Help--help--help!"

"Hush--hush!" murmured the dying man, "that they may not separate us ifyou save me!"

"You are right. Oh, yes, yes; be assured I shall save you! Besides, although you suffer much, you do not seem to be in such agony as youwere before. "

"Do not mistake. I suffer less because there is in me less strength toendure. At your age we have faith in life; it is the privilege ofyouth to believe and hope, but old men see death more clearly. Oh, 'tishere--'tis here--'tis over--my sight is gone--my senses fail! Your hand, Dantes! Adieu--adieu!" And raising himself by a final effort, in whichhe summoned all his faculties, he said, --"Monte Cristo, forget not MonteCristo!" And he fell back on the bed. The crisis was terrible, and arigid form with twisted limbs, swollen eyelids, and lips flecked withbloody foam, lay on the bed of torture, in place of the intellectualbeing who so lately rested there.

Dantes took the lamp, placed it on a projecting stone above the bed, whence its tremulous light fell with strange and fantastic ray on thedistorted countenance and motionless, stiffened body. With steady gazehe awaited confidently the moment for administering the restorative.

When he believed that the right moment had arrived, he took the knife, pried open the teeth, which offered less resistance than before, countedone after the other twelve drops, and watched; the phial contained, perhaps, twice as much more. He waited ten minutes, a quarter of anhour, half an hour, --no change took place. Trembling, his hair erect, his brow bathed with perspiration, he counted the seconds by the beatingof his heart. Then he thought it was time to make the last trial, and heput the phial to the purple lips of Faria, and without having occasionto force open his jaws, which had remained extended, he poured the wholeof the liquid down his throat.

The draught produced a galvanic effect, a violent trembling pervaded theold man's limbs, his eyes opened until it was fearful to gaze upon them, he heaved a sigh which resembled a shriek, and then his convulsed bodyreturned gradually to its former immobility, the eyes remaining open.

Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half elapsed, and during thisperiod of anguish, Edmond leaned over his friend, his hand appliedto his heart, and felt the body gradually grow cold, and the heart'spulsation become more and more deep and dull, until at length itstopped; the last movement of the heart ceased, the face became livid, the eyes remained open, but the eyeballs were glazed. It was six o'clockin the morning, the dawn was just breaking, and its feeble ray cameinto the dungeon, and paled the ineffectual light of the lamp. Strangeshadows passed over the countenance of the dead man, and at times gaveit the appearance of life. While the struggle between day and nightlasted, Dantes still doubted; but as soon as the daylight gained thepre-eminence, he saw that he was alone with a corpse. Then an invincibleand extreme terror seized upon him, and he dared not again press thehand that hung out of bed, he dared no longer to gaze on those fixedand vacant eyes, which he tried many times to close, but in vain--theyopened again as soon as shut. He extinguished the lamp, carefullyconcealed it, and then went away, closing as well as he could theentrance to the secret passage by the large stone as he descended.

It was time, for the jailer was coming. On this occasion he beganhis rounds at Dantes' cell, and on leaving him he went on to Faria'sdungeon, taking thither breakfast and some linen. Nothing betokened thatthe man knew anything of what had occurred. He went on his way.

Dantes was then seized with an indescribable desire to know what wasgoing on in the dungeon of his unfortunate friend. He thereforereturned by the subterraneous gallery, and arrived in time to hear theexclamations of the turnkey, who called out for help. Other turnkeyscame, and then was heard the regular tramp of soldiers. Last of all camethe governor.

Edmond heard the creaking of the bed as they moved the corpse, heard thevoice of the governor, who asked them to throw water on the dead man'sface; and seeing that, in spite of this application, the prisoner didnot recover, they sent for the doctor. The governor then went out, and words of pity fell on Dantes' listening ears, mingled with brutallaughter.

"Well, well, " said one, "the madman has gone to look after his treasure. Good journey to him!"

"With all his millions, he will not have enough to pay for his shroud!"said another.

"Oh, " added a third voice, "the shrouds of the Chateau d'If are notdear!"

"Perhaps, " said one of the previous speakers, "as he was a churchman, they may go to some expense in his behalf. "

"They may give him the honors of the sack. "

Edmond did not lose a word, but comprehended very little of what wassaid. The voices soon ceased, and it seemed to him as if every one hadleft the cell. Still he dared not to enter, as they might have left someturnkey to watch the dead. He remained, therefore, mute and motionless, hardly venturing to breathe. At the end of an hour, he heard a faintnoise, which increased. It was the governor who returned, followed bythe doctor and other attendants. There was a moment's silence, --it wasevident that the doctor was examining the dead body. The inquiries sooncommenced.

The doctor analyzed the symptoms of the malady to which the prisoner hadsuccumbed, and declared that he was dead. Questions and answers followedin a nonchalant manner that made Dantes indignant, for he felt that allthe world should have for the poor abbe a love and respect equal to hisown.

"I am very sorry for what you tell me, " said the governor, replying tothe assurance of the doctor, "that the old man is really dead; for hewas a quiet, inoffensive prisoner, happy in his folly, and required nowatching. "

"Ah, " added the turnkey, "there was no occasion for watching him: hewould have stayed here fifty years, I'll answer for it, without anyattempt to escape. "

"Still, " said the governor, "I believe it will be requisite, notwithstanding your certainty, and not that I doubt your science, butin discharge of my official duty, that we should be perfectly assuredthat the prisoner is dead. " There was a moment of complete silence, during which Dantes, still listening, knew that the doctor was examiningthe corpse a second time.

"You may make your mind easy, " said the doctor; "he is dead. I willanswer for that. "

"You know, sir, " said the governor, persisting, "that we are not contentin such cases as this with such a simple examination. In spite of allappearances, be so kind, therefore, as to finish your duty by fulfillingthe formalities described by law. "

"Let the irons be heated, " said the doctor; "but really it is a uselessprecaution. " This order to heat the irons made Dantes shudder. He heardhasty steps, the creaking of a door, people going and coming, and someminutes afterwards a turnkey entered, saying, --

"Here is the brazier, lighted. " There was a moment's silence, and thenwas heard the crackling of burning flesh, of which the peculiarand nauseous smell penetrated even behind the wall where Dantes waslistening in horror. The perspiration poured forth upon the young man'sbrow, and he felt as if he should faint.

"You see, sir, he is really dead, " said the doctor; "this burn in theheel is decisive. The poor fool is cured of his folly, and deliveredfrom his captivity. "

"Wasn't his name Faria?" inquired one of the officers who accompaniedthe governor.

"Yes, sir; and, as he said, it was an ancient name. He was, too, verylearned, and rational enough on all points which did not relate to histreasure; but on that, indeed, he was intractable. "

"It is the sort of malady which we call monomania, " said the doctor.

"You had never anything to complain of?" said the governor to the jailerwho had charge of the abbe.

"Never, sir, " replied the jailer, "never; on the contrary, he sometimesamused me very much by telling me stories. One day, too, when my wifewas ill, he gave me a prescription which cured her. "

"Ah, ah!" said the doctor, "I did not know that I had a rival; but Ihope, governor, that you will show him all proper respect. "

"Yes, yes, make your mind easy, he shall be decently interred in thenewest sack we can find. Will that satisfy you?"

"Must this last formality take place in your presence, sir?" inquired aturnkey.

"Certainly. But make haste--I cannot stay here all day. " Otherfootsteps, going and coming, were now heard, and a moment afterwards thenoise of rustling canvas reached Dantes' ears, the bed creaked, and theheavy footfall of a man who lifts a weight sounded on the floor; thenthe bed again creaked under the weight deposited upon it.

"This evening, " said the governor.

"Will there be any mass?" asked one of the attendants.

"That is impossible, " replied the governor. "The chaplain of the chateaucame to me yesterday to beg for leave of absence, in order to take atrip to Hyeres for a week. I told him I would attend to the prisonersin his absence. If the poor abbe had not been in such a hurry, he mighthave had his requiem. "

"Pooh, pooh;" said the doctor, with the impiety usual in persons of hisprofession; "he is a churchman. God will respect his profession, and notgive the devil the wicked delight of sending him a priest. " A shout oflaughter followed this brutal jest. Meanwhile the operation of puttingthe body in the sack was going on.

"This evening, " said the governor, when the task was ended.

"At what hour?" inquired a turnkey.

"Why, about ten or eleven o'clock. "

"Shall we watch by the corpse?"

"Of what use would it be? Shut the dungeon as if he were alive--thatis all. " Then the steps retreated, and the voices died away in thedistance; the noise of the door, with its creaking hinges and boltsceased, and a silence more sombre than that of solitude ensued, --thesilence of death, which was all-pervasive, and struck its icy chill tothe very soul of Dantes. Then he raised the flag-stone cautiously withhis head, and looked carefully around the chamber. It was empty, andDantes emerged from the tunnel.

Chapter 20. The Cemetery of the Chateau D'If.

On the bed, at full length, and faintly illuminated by the pale lightthat came from the window, lay a sack of canvas, and under its rudefolds was stretched a long and stiffened form; it was Faria's lastwinding-sheet, --a winding-sheet which, as the turnkey said, cost solittle. Everything was in readiness. A barrier had been placed betweenDantes and his old friend. No longer could Edmond look into thosewide-open eyes which had seemed to be penetrating the mysteries ofdeath; no longer could he clasp the hand which had done so much to makehis existence blessed. Faria, the beneficent and cheerful companion, with whom he was accustomed to live so intimately, no longer breathed. He seated himself on the edge of that terrible bed, and fell intomelancholy and gloomy revery.

Alone--he was alone again--again condemned to silence--again face toface with nothingness! Alone!--never again to see the face, never againto hear the voice of the only human being who united him to earth! Wasnot Faria's fate the better, after all--to solve the problem of life atits source, even at the risk of horrible suffering? The idea of suicide, which his friend had driven away and kept away by his cheerful presence, now hovered like a phantom over the abbe's dead body.

"If I could die, " he said, "I should go where he goes, and shouldassuredly find him again. But how to die? It is very easy, " he went onwith a smile; "I will remain here, rush on the first person that opensthe door, strangle him, and then they will guillotine me. " But excessivegrief is like a storm at sea, where the frail bark is tossed from thedepths to the top of the wave. Dantes recoiled from the idea of soinfamous a death, and passed suddenly from despair to an ardent desirefor life and liberty.

"Die? oh, no, " he exclaimed--"not die now, after having lived andsuffered so long and so much! Die? yes, had I died years ago; but now todie would be, indeed, to give way to the sarcasm of destiny. No, I wantto live; I shall struggle to the very last; I will yet win back thehappiness of which I have been deprived. Before I die I must not forgetthat I have my executioners to punish, and perhaps, too, who knows, somefriends to reward. Yet they will forget me here, and I shall die inmy dungeon like Faria. " As he said this, he became silent and gazedstraight before him like one overwhelmed with a strange and amazingthought. Suddenly he arose, lifted his hand to his brow as if his brainwere giddy, paced twice or thrice round the dungeon, and then pausedabruptly by the bed.

"Just God!" he muttered, "whence comes this thought? Is it from thee?Since none but the dead pass freely from this dungeon, let me takethe place of the dead!" Without giving himself time to reconsiderhis decision, and, indeed, that he might not allow his thoughts to bedistracted from his desperate resolution, he bent over the appallingshroud, opened it with the knife which Faria had made, drew the corpsefrom the sack, and bore it along the tunnel to his own chamber, laid iton his couch, tied around its head the rag he wore at night around hisown, covered it with his counterpane, once again kissed the ice-coldbrow, and tried vainly to close the resisting eyes, which glaredhorribly, turned the head towards the wall, so that the jailer might, when he brought the evening meal, believe that he was asleep, as washis frequent custom; entered the tunnel again, drew the bed against thewall, returned to the other cell, took from the hiding-place the needleand thread, flung off his rags, that they might feel only naked fleshbeneath the coarse canvas, and getting inside the sack, placed himselfin the posture in which the dead body had been laid, and sewed up themouth of the sack from the inside.

He would have been discovered by the beating of his heart, if by anymischance the jailers had entered at that moment. Dantes might havewaited until the evening visit was over, but he was afraid that thegovernor would change his mind, and order the dead body to be removedearlier. In that case his last hope would have been destroyed. Now hisplans were fully made, and this is what he intended to do. If while hewas being carried out the grave-diggers should discover that they werebearing a live instead of a dead body, Dantes did not intend to givethem time to recognize him, but with a sudden cut of the knife, he meantto open the sack from top to bottom, and, profiting by their alarm, escape; if they tried to catch him, he would use his knife to betterpurpose.

If they took him to the cemetery and laid him in a grave, he wouldallow himself to be covered with earth, and then, as it was night, thegrave-diggers could scarcely have turned their backs before he wouldhave worked his way through the yielding soil and escaped. He hoped thatthe weight of earth would not be so great that he could not overcome it. If he was detected in this and the earth proved too heavy, he would bestifled, and then--so much the better, all would be over. Dantes had noteaten since the preceding evening, but he had not thought of hunger, nordid he think of it now. His situation was too precarious to allow himeven time to reflect on any thought but one.

The first risk that Dantes ran was, that the jailer, when he broughthim his supper at seven o'clock, might perceive the change that had beenmade; fortunately, twenty times at least, from misanthropy or fatigue, Dantes had received his jailer in bed, and then the man placed his breadand soup on the table, and went away without saying a word. This timethe jailer might not be as silent as usual, but speak to Dantes, andseeing that he received no reply, go to the bed, and thus discover all.

When seven o'clock came, Dantes' agony really began. His hand placedupon his heart was unable to redress its throbbings, while, with theother he wiped the perspiration from his temples. From time to timechills ran through his whole body, and clutched his heart in a graspof ice. Then he thought he was going to die. Yet the hours passed onwithout any unusual disturbance, and Dantes knew that he had escapedthe first peril. It was a good augury. At length, about the hour thegovernor had appointed, footsteps were heard on the stairs. Edmondfelt that the moment had arrived, summoned up all his courage, heldhis breath, and would have been happy if at the same time he couldhave repressed the throbbing of his veins. The footsteps--theywere double--paused at the door--and Dantes guessed that the twograve-diggers had come to seek him--this idea was soon convertedinto certainty, when he heard the noise they made in putting down thehand-bier. The door opened, and a dim light reached Dantes' eyes throughthe coarse sack that covered him; he saw two shadows approach his bed, a third remaining at the door with a torch in its hand. The two men, approaching the ends of the bed, took the sack by its extremities.

"He's heavy though for an old and thin man, " said one, as he raised thehead.

"They say every year adds half a pound to the weight of the bones, " saidanother, lifting the feet.

"Have you tied the knot?" inquired the first speaker.

"What would be the use of carrying so much more weight?" was the reply, "I can do that when we get there. "

"Yes, you're right, " replied the companion.

"What's the knot for?" thought Dantes.

They deposited the supposed corpse on the bier. Edmond stiffened himselfin order to play the part of a dead man, and then the party, lighted bythe man with the torch, who went first, ascended the stairs. Suddenly hefelt the fresh and sharp night air, and Dantes knew that the mistral wasblowing. It was a sensation in which pleasure and pain were strangelymingled. The bearers went on for twenty paces, then stopped, puttingthe bier down on the ground. One of them went away, and Dantes heard hisshoes striking on the pavement.

"Where am I?" he asked himself.

"Really, he is by no means a light load!" said the other bearer, sittingon the edge of the hand-barrow. Dantes' first impulse was to escape, butfortunately he did not attempt it.

"Give us a light, " said the other bearer, "or I shall never find what Iam looking for. " The man with the torch complied, although not asked inthe most polite terms.

"What can he be looking for?" thought Edmond. "The spade, perhaps. " Anexclamation of satisfaction indicated that the grave-digger had foundthe object of his search. "Here it is at last, " he said, "not withoutsome trouble though. "

"Yes, " was the answer, "but it has lost nothing by waiting. "

As he said this, the man came towards Edmond, who heard a heavy metallicsubstance laid down beside him, and at the same moment a cord wasfastened round his feet with sudden and painful violence.

"Well, have you tied the knot?" inquired the grave-digger, who waslooking on.

"Yes, and pretty tight too, I can tell you, " was the answer.

"Move on, then. " And the bier was lifted once more, and they proceeded.

They advanced fifty paces farther, and then stopped to open a door, thenwent forward again. The noise of the waves dashing against the rocks onwhich the chateau is built, reached Dantes' ear distinctly as they wentforward.

"Bad weather!" observed one of the bearers; "not a pleasant night for adip in the sea. "

"Why, yes, the abbe runs a chance of being wet, " said the other; andthen there was a burst of brutal laughter. Dantes did not comprehend thejest, but his hair stood erect on his head.

"Well, here we are at last, " said one of them. "A little farther--alittle farther, " said the other. "You know very well that the last wasstopped on his way, dashed on the rocks, and the governor told us nextday that we were careless fellows. "

They ascended five or six more steps, and then Dantes felt that theytook him, one by the head and the other by the heels, and swung him toand fro. "One!" said the grave-diggers, "two! three!" And at the sameinstant Dantes felt himself flung into the air like a wounded bird, falling, falling, with a rapidity that made his blood curdle. Althoughdrawn downwards by the heavy weight which hastened his rapid descent, itseemed to him as if the fall lasted for a century.

At last, with a horrible splash, he darted like an arrow into theice-cold water, and as he did so he uttered a shrill cry, stifled in amoment by his immersion beneath the waves.

Dantes had been flung into the sea, and was dragged into its depths bya thirty-six pound shot tied to his feet. The sea is the cemetery of theChateau d'If.

Chapter 21. The Island of Tiboulen.

Dantes, although stunned and almost suffocated, had sufficient presenceof mind to hold his breath, and as his right hand (prepared as he wasfor every chance) held his knife open, he rapidly ripped up the sack, extricated his arm, and then his body; but in spite of all his effortsto free himself from the shot, he felt it dragging him down still lower. He then bent his body, and by a desperate effort severed the cord thatbound his legs, at the moment when it seemed as if he were actuallystrangled. With a mighty leap he rose to the surface of the sea, whilethe shot dragged down to the depths the sack that had so nearly becomehis shroud.

Dantes waited only to get breath, and then dived, in order to avoidbeing seen. When he arose a second time, he was fifty paces from wherehe had first sunk. He saw overhead a black and tempestuous sky, acrosswhich the wind was driving clouds that occasionally suffered a twinklingstar to appear; before him was the vast expanse of waters, sombre andterrible, whose waves foamed and roared as if before the approach ofa storm. Behind him, blacker than the sea, blacker than the sky, rosephantom-like the vast stone structure, whose projecting crags seemedlike arms extended to seize their prey, and on the highest rock was atorch lighting two figures. He fancied that these two forms were lookingat the sea; doubtless these strange grave-diggers had heard his cry. Dantes dived again, and remained a long time beneath the water. This wasan easy feat to him, for he usually attracted a crowd of spectators inthe bay before the lighthouse at Marseilles when he swam there, and wasunanimously declared to be the best swimmer in the port. When he came upagain the light had disappeared.

He must now get his bearings. Ratonneau and Pomegue are the nearestislands of all those that surround the Chateau d'If, but Ratonneauand Pomegue are inhabited, as is also the islet of Daume. Tiboulen andLemaire were therefore the safest for Dantes' venture. The islandsof Tiboulen and Lemaire are a league from the Chateau d'If; Dantes, nevertheless, determined to make for them. But how could he find hisway in the darkness of the night? At this moment he saw the light ofPlanier, gleaming in front of him like a star. By leaving this lighton the right, he kept the Island of Tiboulen a little on the left; byturning to the left, therefore, he would find it. But, as we have said, it was at least a league from the Chateau d'If to this island. Oftenin prison Faria had said to him, when he saw him idle and inactive, "Dantes, you must not give way to this listlessness; you will be drownedif you seek to escape, and your strength has not been properly exercisedand prepared for exertion. " These words rang in Dantes' ears, evenbeneath the waves; he hastened to cleave his way through them to see ifhe had not lost his strength. He found with pleasure that his captivityhad taken away nothing of his power, and that he was still master ofthat element on whose bosom he had so often sported as a boy.

Fear, that relentless pursuer, clogged Dantes' efforts. He listened forany sound that might be audible, and every time that he rose to the topof a wave he scanned the horizon, and strove to penetrate the darkness. He fancied that every wave behind him was a pursuing boat, and heredoubled his exertions, increasing rapidly his distance from thechateau, but exhausting his strength. He swam on still, and already theterrible chateau had disappeared in the darkness. He could not see it, but he felt its presence. An hour passed, during which Dantes, excitedby the feeling of freedom, continued to cleave the waves. "Let us see, "said he, "I have swum above an hour, but as the wind is against me, thathas retarded my speed; however, if I am not mistaken, I must be closeto Tiboulen. But what if I were mistaken?" A shudder passed over him. He sought to tread water, in order to rest himself; but the sea wastoo violent, and he felt that he could not make use of this means ofrecuperation.

"Well, " said he, "I will swim on until I am worn out, or the crampseizes me, and then I shall sink;" and he struck out with the energy ofdespair.

Suddenly the sky seemed to him to become still darker and more dense, and heavy clouds seemed to sweep down towards him; at the same time hefelt a sharp pain in his knee. He fancied for a moment that he had beenshot, and listened for the report; but he heard nothing. Then he put outhis hand, and encountered an obstacle and with another stroke knew thathe had gained the shore.

Before him rose a grotesque mass of rocks, that resembled nothingso much as a vast fire petrified at the moment of its most ferventcombustion. It was the Island of Tiboulen. Dantes rose, advanced a fewsteps, and, with a fervent prayer of gratitude, stretched himself onthe granite, which seemed to him softer than down. Then, in spite of thewind and rain, he fell into the deep, sweet sleep of utter exhaustion. At the expiration of an hour Edmond was awakened by the roar of thunder. The tempest was let loose and beating the atmosphere with its mightywings; from time to time a flash of lightning stretched across theheavens like a fiery serpent, lighting up the clouds that rolled on invast chaotic waves.

Dantes had not been deceived--he had reached the first of the twoislands, which was, in fact, Tiboulen. He knew that it was barren andwithout shelter; but when the sea became more calm, he resolved toplunge into its waves again, and swim to Lemaire, equally arid, butlarger, and consequently better adapted for concealment.

An overhanging rock offered him a temporary shelter, and scarcely hadhe availed himself of it when the tempest burst forth in all its fury. Edmond felt the trembling of the rock beneath which he lay; the waves, dashing themselves against it, wetted him with their spray. He wassafely sheltered, and yet he felt dizzy in the midst of the warring ofthe elements and the dazzling brightness of the lightning. It seemedto him that the island trembled to its base, and that it would, like avessel at anchor, break moorings, and bear him off into the centreof the storm. He then recollected that he had not eaten or drunk forfour-and-twenty hours. He extended his hands, and drank greedily of therainwater that had lodged in a hollow of the rock.

As he rose, a flash of lightning, that seemed to rive the remotestheights of heaven, illumined the darkness. By its light, between theIsland of Lemaire and Cape Croiselle, a quarter of a league distant, Dantes saw a fishing-boat driven rapidly like a spectre before the powerof winds and waves. A second after, he saw it again, approaching withfrightful rapidity. Dantes cried at the top of his voice to warn them oftheir danger, but they saw it themselves. Another flash showed him fourmen clinging to the shattered mast and the rigging, while a fifth clungto the broken rudder.

The men he beheld saw him undoubtedly, for their cries were carried tohis ears by the wind. Above the splintered mast a sail rent to tatterswas waving; suddenly the ropes that still held it gave way, and itdisappeared in the darkness of the night like a vast sea-bird. At thesame moment a violent crash was heard, and cries of distress. Dantesfrom his rocky perch saw the shattered vessel, and among the fragmentsthe floating forms of the hapless sailors. Then all was dark again.

Dantes ran down the rocks at the risk of being himself dashed to pieces;he listened, he groped about, but he heard and saw nothing--the crieshad ceased, and the tempest continued to rage. By degrees the windabated, vast gray clouds rolled towards the west, and the blue firmamentappeared studded with bright stars. Soon a red streak became visible inthe horizon, the waves whitened, a light played over them, and gildedtheir foaming crests with gold. It was day.

Dantes stood mute and motionless before this majestic spectacle, as ifhe now beheld it for the first time; and indeed since his captivityin the Chateau d'If he had forgotten that such scenes were ever to bewitnessed. He turned towards the fortress, and looked at both sea andland. The gloomy building rose from the bosom of the ocean with imposingmajesty and seemed to dominate the scene. It was about five o'clock. Thesea continued to get calmer.

"In two or three hours, " thought Dantes, "the turnkey will enter mychamber, find the body of my poor friend, recognize it, seek for me invain, and give the alarm. Then the tunnel will be discovered; the menwho cast me into the sea and who must have heard the cry I uttered, willbe questioned. Then boats filled with armed soldiers will pursue thewretched fugitive. The cannon will warn every one to refuse shelter to aman wandering about naked and famished. The police of Marseilles will beon the alert by land, whilst the governor pursues me by sea. I am cold, I am hungry. I have lost even the knife that saved me. O my God, I havesuffered enough surely! Have pity on me, and do for me what I am unableto do for myself. "

As Dantes (his eyes turned in the direction of the Chateau d'If) utteredthis prayer, he saw off the farther point of the Island of Pomegue asmall vessel with lateen sail skimming the sea like a gull in search ofprey; and with his sailor's eye he knew it to be a Genoese tartan. She was coming out of Marseilles harbor, and was standing out to searapidly, her sharp prow cleaving through the waves. "Oh, " cried Edmond, "to think that in half an hour I could join her, did I not fear beingquestioned, detected, and conveyed back to Marseilles! What can I do?What story can I invent? under pretext of trading along the coast, thesemen, who are in reality smugglers, will prefer selling me to doing agood action. I must wait. But I cannot---- I am starving. In a few hoursmy strength will be utterly exhausted; besides, perhaps I have not beenmissed at the fortress. I can pass as one of the sailors wrecked lastnight. My story will be accepted, for there is no one left to contradictme. "

As he spoke, Dantes looked toward the spot where the fishing-vessel hadbeen wrecked, and started. The red cap of one of the sailors hung to apoint of the rock and some timbers that had formed part of the vessel'skeel, floated at the foot of the crag. In an instant Dantes' plan wasformed. He swam to the cap, placed it on his head, seized one of thetimbers, and struck out so as to cut across the course the vessel wastaking.

"I am saved!" murmured he. And this conviction restored his strength.

He soon saw that the vessel, with the wind dead ahead, was tackingbetween the Chateau d'If and the tower of Planier. For an instant hefeared lest, instead of keeping in shore, she should stand out to sea;but he soon saw that she would pass, like most vessels bound for Italy, between the islands of Jaros and Calaseraigne. However, the vessel andthe swimmer insensibly neared one another, and in one of its tacksthe tartan bore down within a quarter of a mile of him. He rose on thewaves, making signs of distress; but no one on board saw him, and thevessel stood on another tack. Dantes would have shouted, but he knewthat the wind would drown his voice.

It was then he rejoiced at his precaution in taking the timber, for without it he would have been unable, perhaps, to reach thevessel--certainly to return to shore, should he be unsuccessful inattracting attention.

Dantes, though almost sure as to what course the vessel would take, hadyet watched it anxiously until it tacked and stood towards him. Thenhe advanced; but before they could meet, the vessel again changed hercourse. By a violent effort he rose half out of the water, waving hiscap, and uttering a loud shout peculiar to sailers. This time he wasboth seen and heard, and the tartan instantly steered towards him. Atthe same time, he saw they were about to lower the boat.

An instant after, the boat, rowed by two men, advanced rapidly towardshim. Dantes let go of the timber, which he now thought to be useless, and swam vigorously to meet them. But he had reckoned too much upon hisstrength, and then he realized how serviceable the timber had been tohim. His arms became stiff, his legs lost their flexibility, and he wasalmost breathless.

He shouted again. The two sailors redoubled their efforts, and one ofthem cried in Italian, "Courage!"

The word reached his ear as a wave which he no longer had the strengthto surmount passed over his head. He rose again to the surface, struggled with the last desperate effort of a drowning man, uttered athird cry, and felt himself sinking, as if the fatal cannon shot wereagain tied to his feet. The water passed over his head, and the skyturned gray. A convulsive movement again brought him to the surface. Hefelt himself seized by the hair, then he saw and heard nothing. He hadfainted.

When he opened his eyes Dantes found himself on the deck of the tartan. His first care was to see what course they were taking. They wererapidly leaving the Chateau d'If behind. Dantes was so exhausted thatthe exclamation of joy he uttered was mistaken for a sigh.

As we have said, he was lying on the deck. A sailor was rubbing hislimbs with a woollen cloth; another, whom he recognized as the one whohad cried out "Courage!" held a gourd full of rum to his mouth; whilethe third, an old sailer, at once the pilot and captain, looked on withthat egotistical pity men feel for a misfortune that they have escapedyesterday, and which may overtake them to-morrow.

A few drops of the rum restored suspended animation, while the frictionof his limbs restored their elasticity.

"Who are you?" said the pilot in bad French.

"I am, " replied Dantes, in bad Italian, "a Maltese sailor. We werecoming from Syracuse laden with grain. The storm of last night overtookus at Cape Morgion, and we were wrecked on these rocks. "

"Where do you come from?"

"From these rocks that I had the good luck to cling to while our captainand the rest of the crew were all lost. I saw your vessel, and fearfulof being left to perish on the desolate island, I swam off on a piece ofwreckage to try and intercept your course. You have saved my life, andI thank you, " continued Dantes. "I was lost when one of your sailorscaught hold of my hair. "

"It was I, " said a sailor of a frank and manly appearance; "and it wastime, for you were sinking. "

"Yes, " returned Dantes, holding out his hand, "I thank you again. "

"I almost hesitated, though, " replied the sailor; "you looked more likea brigand than an honest man, with your beard six inches, and your haira foot long. " Dantes recollected that his hair and beard had not beencut all the time he was at the Chateau d'If.

"Yes, " said he, "I made a vow, to our Lady of the Grotto not to cut myhair or beard for ten years if I were saved in a moment of danger; butto-day the vow expires. "

"Now what are we to do with you?" said the captain.

"Alas, anything you please. My captain is dead; I have barely escaped;but I am a good sailor. Leave me at the first port you make; I shall besure to find employment. "

"Do you know the Mediterranean?"

"I have sailed over it since my childhood. "

"You know the best harbors?"

"There are few ports that I could not enter or leave with a bandage overmy eyes. "

"I say, captain, " said the sailor who had cried "Courage!" to Dantes, "if what he says is true, what hinders his staying with us?"

"If he says true, " said the captain doubtingly. "But in his presentcondition he will promise anything, and take his chance of keeping itafterwards. "

"I will do more than I promise, " said Dantes.

"We shall see, " returned the other, smiling.

"Where are you going?" asked Dantes.

"To Leghorn. "

"Then why, instead of tacking so frequently, do you not sail nearer thewind?"

"Because we should run straight on to the Island of Rion. "

"You shall pass it by twenty fathoms. "

"Take the helm, and let us see what you know. " The young man took thehelm, felt to see if the vessel answered the rudder promptly andseeing that, without being a first-rate sailer, she yet was tolerablyobedient, --

"To the sheets, " said he. The four seamen, who composed the crew, obeyed, while the pilot looked on. "Haul taut. "--They obeyed.

"Belay. " This order was also executed; and the vessel passed, as Danteshad predicted, twenty fathoms to windward.

"Bravo!" said the captain.

"Bravo!" repeated the sailors. And they all looked with astonishment atthis man whose eye now disclosed an intelligence and his body a vigorthey had not thought him capable of showing.

"You see, " said Dantes, quitting the helm, "I shall be of some use toyou, at least during the voyage. If you do not want me at Leghorn, youcan leave me there, and I will pay you out of the first wages I get, formy food and the clothes you lend me. "

"Ah, " said the captain, "we can agree very well, if you are reasonable. "

"Give me what you give the others, and it will be all right, " returnedDantes.

"That's not fair, " said the seaman who had saved Dantes; "for you knowmore than we do. "

"What is that to you, Jacopo?" returned the Captain. "Every one is freeto ask what he pleases. "

"That's true, " replied Jacopo; "I only make a remark. "

"Well, you would do much better to find him a jacket and a pair oftrousers, if you have them. "

"No, " said Jacopo; "but I have a shirt and a pair of trousers. "

"That is all I want, " interrupted Dantes. Jacopo dived into the hold andsoon returned with what Edmond wanted.

"Now, then, do you wish for anything else?" said the patron.

"A piece of bread and another glass of the capital rum I tasted, forI have not eaten or drunk for a long time. " He had not tasted food forforty hours. A piece of bread was brought, and Jacopo offered him thegourd.

"Larboard your helm, " cried the captain to the steersman. Dantes glancedthat way as he lifted the gourd to his mouth; then paused with hand inmid-air.

"Hollo! what's the matter at the Chateau d'If?" said the captain.

A small white cloud, which had attracted Dantes' attention, crowned thesummit of the bastion of the Chateau d'If. At the same moment the faintreport of a gun was heard. The sailors looked at one another.

"What is this?" asked the captain.

"A prisoner has escaped from the Chateau d'If, and they are firingthe alarm gun, " replied Dantes. The captain glanced at him, but he hadlifted the rum to his lips and was drinking it with so much composure, that suspicions, if the captain had any, died away.

"At any rate, " murmured he, "if it be, so much the better, for I havemade a rare acquisition. " Under pretence of being fatigued, Dantes askedto take the helm; the steersman, glad to be relieved, looked at thecaptain, and the latter by a sign indicated that he might abandon it tohis new comrade. Dantes could thus keep his eyes on Marseilles.

"What is the day of the month?" asked he of Jacopo, who sat down besidehim.

"The 28th of February. "

"In what year?"

"In what year--you ask me in what year?"

"Yes, " replied the young man, "I ask you in what year!"

"You have forgotten then?"

"I got such a fright last night, " replied Dantes, smiling, "that I havealmost lost my memory. I ask you what year is it?"

"The year 1829, " returned Jacopo. It was fourteen years day for daysince Dantes' arrest. He was nineteen when he entered the Chateau d'If;he was thirty-three when he escaped. A sorrowful smile passed over hisface; he asked himself what had become of Mercedes, who must believe himdead. Then his eyes lighted up with hatred as he thought of the threemen who had caused him so long and wretched a captivity. He renewedagainst Danglars, Fernand, and Villefort the oath of implacablevengeance he had made in his dungeon. This oath was no longer a vainmenace; for the fastest sailer in the Mediterranean would have beenunable to overtake the little tartan, that with every stitch of canvasset was flying before the wind to Leghorn.

Chapter 22. The Smugglers.

Dantes had not been a day on board before he had a very clear idea ofthe men with whom his lot had been cast. Without having been in theschool of the Abbe Faria, the worthy master of The Young Amelia (thename of the Genoese tartan) knew a smattering of all the tongues spokenon the shores of that large lake called the Mediterranean, from theArabic to the Provencal, and this, while it spared him interpreters, persons always troublesome and frequently indiscreet, gave him greatfacilities of communication, either with the vessels he met at sea, with the small boats sailing along the coast, or with the people withoutname, country, or occupation, who are always seen on the quays ofseaports, and who live by hidden and mysterious means which we mustsuppose to be a direct gift of providence, as they have no visible meansof support. It is fair to assume that Dantes was on board a smuggler.

At first the captain had received Dantes on board with a certain degreeof distrust. He was very well known to the customs officers of thecoast; and as there was between these worthies and himself a perpetualbattle of wits, he had at first thought that Dantes might be an emissaryof these industrious guardians of rights and duties, who perhapsemployed this ingenious means of learning some of the secrets of histrade. But the skilful manner in which Dantes had handled the lugger hadentirely reassured him; and then, when he saw the light plume of smokefloating above the bastion of the Chateau d'If, and heard the distantreport, he was instantly struck with the idea that he had on board hisvessel one whose coming and going, like that of kings, was accompaniedwith salutes of artillery. This made him less uneasy, it must be owned, than if the new-comer had proved to be a customs officer; but thissupposition also disappeared like the first, when he beheld the perfecttranquillity of his recruit.

Edmond thus had the advantage of knowing what the owner was, without theowner knowing who he was; and however the old sailor and his crew triedto "pump" him, they extracted nothing more from him; he gave accuratedescriptions of Naples and Malta, which he knew as well as Marseilles, and held stoutly to his first story. Thus the Genoese, subtle as hewas, was duped by Edmond, in whose favor his mild demeanor, his nauticalskill, and his admirable dissimulation, pleaded. Moreover, it ispossible that the Genoese was one of those shrewd persons who knownothing but what they should know, and believe nothing but what theyshould believe.

In this state of mutual understanding, they reached Leghorn. HereEdmond was to undergo another trial; he was to find out whether he couldrecognize himself, as he had not seen his own face for fourteen years. He had preserved a tolerably good remembrance of what the youth hadbeen, and was now to find out what the man had become. His comradesbelieved that his vow was fulfilled. As he had twenty times touched atLeghorn, he remembered a barber in St. Ferdinand Street; he went thereto have his beard and hair cut. The barber gazed in amazement at thisman with the long, thick and black hair and beard, which gave his headthe appearance of one of Titian's portraits. At this period it was notthe fashion to wear so large a beard and hair so long; now a barberwould only be surprised if a man gifted with such advantages shouldconsent voluntarily to deprive himself of them. The Leghorn barber saidnothing and went to work.

When the operation was concluded, and Edmond felt that his chin wascompletely smooth, and his hair reduced to its usual length, he askedfor a hand-glass. He was now, as we have said, three-and-thirty yearsof age, and his fourteen years' imprisonment had produced a greattransformation in his appearance. Dantes had entered the Chateau d'Ifwith the round, open, smiling face of a young and happy man, with whomthe early paths of life have been smooth, and who anticipates a futurecorresponding with his past. This was now all changed. The oval facewas lengthened, his smiling mouth had assumed the firm and markedlines which betoken resolution; his eyebrows were arched beneath a browfurrowed with thought; his eyes were full of melancholy, and from theirdepths occasionally sparkled gloomy fires of misanthropy and hatred;his complexion, so long kept from the sun, had now that pale colorwhich produces, when the features are encircled with black hair, thearistocratic beauty of the man of the north; the profound learninghe had acquired had besides diffused over his features a refinedintellectual expression; and he had also acquired, being naturally ofa goodly stature, that vigor which a frame possesses which has so longconcentrated all its force within itself.

To the elegance of a nervous and slight form had succeeded the solidityof a rounded and muscular figure. As to his voice, prayers, sobs, andimprecations had changed it so that at times it was of a singularlypenetrating sweetness, and at others rough and almost hoarse. Moreover, from being so long in twilight or darkness, his eyes had acquired thefaculty of distinguishing objects in the night, common to the hyena andthe wolf. Edmond smiled when he beheld himself: it was impossible thathis best friend--if, indeed, he had any friend left--could recognizehim; he could not recognize himself.

The master of The Young Amelia, who was very desirous of retainingamongst his crew a man of Edmond's value, had offered to advance himfunds out of his future profits, which Edmond had accepted. His nextcare on leaving the barber's who had achieved his first metamorphosiswas to enter a shop and buy a complete sailor's suit--a garb, as we allknow, very simple, and consisting of white trousers, a striped shirt, and a cap. It was in this costume, and bringing back to Jacopo the shirtand trousers he had lent him, that Edmond reappeared before the captainof the lugger, who had made him tell his story over and over againbefore he could believe him, or recognize in the neat and trim sailorthe man with thick and matted beard, hair tangled with seaweed, and bodysoaking in seabrine, whom he had picked up naked and nearly drowned. Attracted by his prepossessing appearance, he renewed his offers of anengagement to Dantes; but Dantes, who had his own projects, would notagree for a longer time than three months.

The Young Amelia had a very active crew, very obedient to their captain, who lost as little time as possible. He had scarcely been a week atLeghorn before the hold of his vessel was filled with printed muslins, contraband cottons, English powder, and tobacco on which the excise hadforgotten to put its mark. The master was to get all this out of Leghornfree of duties, and land it on the shores of Corsica, where certainspeculators undertook to forward the cargo to France. They sailed;Edmond was again cleaving the azure sea which had been the first horizonof his youth, and which he had so often dreamed of in prison. He leftGorgone on his right and La Pianosa on his left, and went towards thecountry of Paoli and Napoleon. The next morning going on deck, as healways did at an early hour, the patron found Dantes leaning againstthe bulwarks gazing with intense earnestness at a pile of granite rocks, which the rising sun tinged with rosy light. It was the Island of MonteCristo. The Young Amelia left it three-quarters of a league to thelarboard, and kept on for Corsica.

Dantes thought, as they passed so closely to the island whose name wasso interesting to him, that he had only to leap into the sea and inhalf an hour be at the promised land. But then what could he do withoutinstruments to discover his treasure, without arms to defend himself?Besides, what would the sailors say? What would the patron think? Hemust wait.

Fortunately, Dantes had learned how to wait; he had waited fourteenyears for his liberty, and now he was free he could wait at least sixmonths or a year for wealth. Would he not have accepted liberty withoutriches if it had been offered to him? Besides, were not those richeschimerical?--offspring of the brain of the poor Abbe Faria, had theynot died with him? It is true, the letter of the Cardinal Spada wassingularly circumstantial, and Dantes repeated it to himself, from oneend to the other, for he had not forgotten a word.

Evening came, and Edmond saw the island tinged with the shades oftwilight, and then disappear in the darkness from all eyes but his own, for he, with vision accustomed to the gloom of a prison, continued tobehold it last of all, for he remained alone upon deck. The next mornbroke off the coast of Aleria; all day they coasted, and in the eveningsaw fires lighted on land; the position of these was no doubt a signalfor landing, for a ship's lantern was hung up at the mast-head insteadof the streamer, and they came to within a gunshot of the shore. Dantesnoticed that the captain of The Young Amelia had, as he neared the land, mounted two small culverins, which, without making much noise, can throwa four ounce ball a thousand paces or so.

But on this occasion the precaution was superfluous, and everythingproceeded with the utmost smoothness and politeness. Four shallops cameoff with very little noise alongside the lugger, which, no doubt, inacknowledgement of the compliment, lowered her own shallop into the sea, and the five boats worked so well that by two o'clock in the morningall the cargo was out of The Young Amelia and on terra firma. The samenight, such a man of regularity was the patron of The Young Amelia, theprofits were divided, and each man had a hundred Tuscan livres, or abouteighty francs. But the voyage was not ended. They turned the bowsprittowards Sardinia, where they intended to take in a cargo, which was toreplace what had been discharged. The second operation was as successfulas the first, The Young Amelia was in luck. This new cargo was destinedfor the coast of the Duchy of Lucca, and consisted almost entirely ofHavana cigars, sherry, and Malaga wines.

There they had a bit of a skirmish in getting rid of the duties; theexcise was, in truth, the everlasting enemy of the patron of The YoungAmelia. A customs officer was laid low, and two sailors wounded; Danteswas one of the latter, a ball having touched him in the left shoulder. Dantes was almost glad of this affray, and almost pleased at beingwounded, for they were rude lessons which taught him with what eye hecould view danger, and with what endurance he could bear suffering. Hehad contemplated danger with a smile, and when wounded had exclaimedwith the great philosopher, "Pain, thou art not an evil. " He had, moreover, looked upon the customs officer wounded to death, and, whetherfrom heat of blood produced by the encounter, or the chill of humansentiment, this sight had made but slight impression upon him. Danteswas on the way he desired to follow, and was moving towards the endhe wished to achieve; his heart was in a fair way of petrifying in hisbosom. Jacopo, seeing him fall, had believed him killed, and rushingtowards him raised him up, and then attended to him with all thekindness of a devoted comrade.

This world was not then so good as Doctor Pangloss believed it, neitherwas it so wicked as Dantes thought it, since this man, who had nothingto expect from his comrade but the inheritance of his share ofthe prize-money, manifested so much sorrow when he saw him fall. Fortunately, as we have said, Edmond was only wounded, and with certainherbs gathered at certain seasons, and sold to the smugglers by theold Sardinian women, the wound soon closed. Edmond then resolved totry Jacopo, and offered him in return for his attention a share of hisprize-money, but Jacopo refused it indignantly.

As a result of the sympathetic devotion which Jacopo had from thefirst bestowed on Edmond, the latter was moved to a certain degree ofaffection. But this sufficed for Jacopo, who instinctively felt thatEdmond had a right to superiority of position--a superiority whichEdmond had concealed from all others. And from this time the kindnesswhich Edmond showed him was enough for the brave seaman.

Then in the long days on board ship, when the vessel, gliding on withsecurity over the azure sea, required no care but the hand of thehelmsman, thanks to the favorable winds that swelled her sails, Edmond, with a chart in his hand, became the instructor of Jacopo, as the poorAbbe Faria had been his tutor. He pointed out to him the bearings of thecoast, explained to him the variations of the compass, and taught him toread in that vast book opened over our heads which they call heaven, and where God writes in azure with letters of diamonds. And when Jacopoinquired of him, "What is the use of teaching all these things to apoor sailor like me?" Edmond replied, "Who knows? You may one day be thecaptain of a vessel. Your fellow-countryman, Bonaparte, became emperor. "We had forgotten to say that Jacopo was a Corsican.

Two months and a half elapsed in these trips, and Edmond had becomeas skilful a coaster as he had been a hardy seaman; he had formed anacquaintance with all the smugglers on the coast, and learned all theMasonic signs by which these half pirates recognize each other. He hadpassed and re-passed his Island of Monte Cristo twenty times, but notonce had he found an opportunity of landing there. He then formed aresolution. As soon as his engagement with the patron of The YoungAmelia ended, he would hire a small vessel on his own account--for inhis several voyages he had amassed a hundred piastres--and under somepretext land at the Island of Monte Cristo. Then he would be free tomake his researches, not perhaps entirely at liberty, for he would bedoubtless watched by those who accompanied him. But in this world wemust risk something. Prison had made Edmond prudent, and he was desirousof running no risk whatever. But in vain did he rack his imagination;fertile as it was, he could not devise any plan for reaching the islandwithout companionship.

Dantes was tossed about on these doubts and wishes, when the patron, whohad great confidence in him, and was very desirous of retaining him inhis service, took him by the arm one evening and led him to a tavernon the Via del' Oglio, where the leading smugglers of Leghorn usedto congregate and discuss affairs connected with their trade. AlreadyDantes had visited this maritime Bourse two or three times, and seeingall these hardy free-traders, who supplied the whole coast for nearlytwo hundred leagues in extent, he had asked himself what power mightnot that man attain who should give the impulse of his will to all thesecontrary and diverging minds. This time it was a great matter that wasunder discussion, connected with a vessel laden with Turkey carpets, stuffs of the Levant, and cashmeres. It was necessary to find someneutral ground on which an exchange could be made, and then to try andland these goods on the coast of France. If the venture was successfulthe profit would be enormous, there would be a gain of fifty or sixtypiastres each for the crew.

The patron of The Young Amelia proposed as a place of landing the Islandof Monte Cristo, which being completely deserted, and having neithersoldiers nor revenue officers, seemed to have been placed in the midstof the ocean since the time of the heathen Olympus by Mercury, the godof merchants and robbers, classes of mankind which we in modern timeshave separated if not made distinct, but which antiquity appears to haveincluded in the same category. At the mention of Monte Cristo Dantesstarted with joy; he rose to conceal his emotion, and took a turnaround the smoky tavern, where all the languages of the known world werejumbled in a lingua franca. When he again joined the two persons who hadbeen discussing the matter, it had been decided that they should touchat Monte Cristo and set out on the following night. Edmond, beingconsulted, was of opinion that the island afforded every possiblesecurity, and that great enterprises to be well done should be donequickly. Nothing then was altered in the plan, and orders were given toget under weigh next night, and, wind and weather permitting, to makethe neutral island by the following day.

Chapter 23. The Island of Monte Cristo.

Thus, at length, by one of the unexpected strokes of fortune whichsometimes befall those who have for a long time been the victims of anevil destiny, Dantes was about to secure the opportunity he wished for, by simple and natural means, and land on the island without incurringany suspicion. One night more and he would be on his way.

The night was one of feverish distraction, and in its progress visionsgood and evil passed through Dantes' mind. If he closed his eyes, he sawCardinal Spada's letter written on the wall in characters of flame--ifhe slept for a moment the wildest dreams haunted his brain. He ascendedinto grottos paved with emeralds, with panels of rubies, and theroof glowing with diamond stalactites. Pearls fell drop by drop, assubterranean waters filter in their caves. Edmond, amazed, wonderstruck, filled his pockets with the radiant gems and then returned to daylight, when he discovered that his prizes had all changed into common pebbles. He then endeavored to re-enter the marvellous grottos, but they hadsuddenly receded, and now the path became a labyrinth, and then theentrance vanished, and in vain did he tax his memory for the magic andmysterious word which opened the splendid caverns of Ali Baba to theArabian fisherman. All was useless, the treasure disappeared, and hadagain reverted to the genii from whom for a moment he had hoped to carryit off. The day came at length, and was almost as feverish as the nighthad been, but it brought reason to the aid of imagination, and Danteswas then enabled to arrange a plan which had hitherto been vague andunsettled in his brain. Night came, and with it the preparation fordeparture, and these preparations served to conceal Dantes' agitation. He had by degrees assumed such authority over his companions that he wasalmost like a commander on board; and as his orders were always clear, distinct, and easy of execution, his comrades obeyed him with celerityand pleasure.

The old patron did not interfere, for he too had recognized thesuperiority of Dantes over the crew and himself. He saw in the young manhis natural successor, and regretted that he had not a daughter, thathe might have bound Edmond to him by a more secure alliance. At seveno'clock in the evening all was ready, and at ten minutes past seven theydoubled the lighthouse just as the beacon was kindled. The sea was calm, and, with a fresh breeze from the south-east, they sailed beneath abright blue sky, in which God also lighted up in turn his beacon lights, each of which is a world. Dantes told them that all hands might turn in, and he would take the helm. When the Maltese (for so they calledDantes) had said this, it was sufficient, and all went to their bunkscontentedly. This frequently happened. Dantes, cast from solitude intothe world, frequently experienced an imperious desire for solitude; andwhat solitude is more complete, or more poetical, than that of a shipfloating in isolation on the sea during the obscurity of the night, inthe silence of immensity, and under the eye of heaven?

Now this solitude was peopled with his thoughts, the night lighted up byhis illusions, and the silence animated by his anticipations. When thepatron awoke, the vessel was hurrying on with every sail set, and everysail full with the breeze. They were making nearly ten knots an hour. The Island of Monte Cristo loomed large in the horizon. Edmond resignedthe lugger to the master's care, and went and lay down in his hammock;but, in spite of a sleepless night, he could not close his eyes for amoment. Two hours afterwards he came on deck, as the boat was aboutto double the Island of Elba. They were just abreast of Mareciana, andbeyond the flat but verdant Island of La Pianosa. The peak of MonteCristo reddened by the burning sun, was seen against the azure sky. Dantes ordered the helmsman to put down his helm, in order to leave LaPianosa to starboard, as he knew that he should shorten his course bytwo or three knots. About five o'clock in the evening the island wasdistinct, and everything on it was plainly perceptible, owing to thatclearness of the atmosphere peculiar to the light which the rays of thesun cast at its setting.

Edmond gazed very earnestly at the mass of rocks which gave out all thevariety of twilight colors, from the brightest pink to the deepest blue;and from time to time his cheeks flushed, his brow darkened, and a mistpassed over his eyes. Never did a gamester, whose whole fortune is stakedon one cast of the die, experience the anguish which Edmond felt in hisparoxysms of hope. Night came, and at ten o'clock they anchored. TheYoung Amelia was first at the rendezvous. In spite of his usual commandover himself, Dantes could not restrain his impetuosity. He was thefirst to jump on shore; and had he dared, he would, like Lucius Brutus, have "kissed his mother earth. " It was dark, but at eleven o'clock themoon rose in the midst of the ocean, whose every wave she silvered, and then, "ascending high, " played in floods of pale light on the rockyhills of this second Pelion.

The island was familiar to the crew of The Young Amelia, --it was one ofher regular haunts. As to Dantes, he had passed it on his voyage to andfrom the Levant, but never touched at it. He questioned Jacopo. "Whereshall we pass the night?" he inquired.

"Why, on board the tartan, " replied the sailor.

"Should we not do better in the grottos?"

"What grottos?"

"Why, the grottos--caves of the island. "

"I do not know of any grottos, " replied Jacopo. The cold sweat sprangforth on Dantes' brow.

"What, are there no grottos at Monte Cristo?" he asked.

"None. "

For a moment Dantes was speechless; then he remembered that these cavesmight have been filled up by some accident, or even stopped up, for thesake of greater security, by Cardinal Spada. The point was, then, todiscover the hidden entrance. It was useless to search at night, andDantes therefore delayed all investigation until the morning. Besides, a signal made half a league out at sea, and to which The Young Ameliareplied by a similar signal, indicated that the moment for business hadcome. The boat that now arrived, assured by the answering signal thatall was well, soon came in sight, white and silent as a phantom, andcast anchor within a cable's length of shore.

Then the landing began. Dantes reflected, as he worked, on the shout ofjoy which, with a single word, he could evoke from all these men, if hegave utterance to the one unchanging thought that pervaded his heart;but, far from disclosing this precious secret, he almost feared thathe had already said too much, and by his restlessness and continualquestions, his minute observations and evident pre-occupation, arousedsuspicions. Fortunately, as regarded this circumstance at least, hispainful past gave to his countenance an indelible sadness, andthe glimmerings of gayety seen beneath this cloud were indeed buttransitory.

No one had the slightest suspicion; and when next day, taking afowling-piece, powder, and shot, Dantes declared his intention to go andkill some of the wild goats that were seen springing from rock to rock, his wish was construed into a love of sport, or a desire for solitude. However, Jacopo insisted on following him, and Dantes did not opposethis, fearing if he did so that he might incur distrust. Scarcely, however, had they gone a quarter of a league when, having killed a kid, he begged Jacopo to take it to his comrades, and request them to cookit, and when ready to let him know by firing a gun. This and some driedfruits and a flask of Monte Pulciano, was the bill of fare. Danteswent on, looking from time to time behind and around about him. Havingreached the summit of a rock, he saw, a thousand feet beneath him, hiscompanions, whom Jacopo had rejoined, and who were all busy preparingthe repast which Edmond's skill as a marksman had augmented with acapital dish.

Edmond looked at them for a moment with the sad and gentle smile ofa man superior to his fellows. "In two hours' time, " said he, "thesepersons will depart richer by fifty piastres each, to go and risk theirlives again by endeavoring to gain fifty more; then they will returnwith a fortune of six hundred francs, and waste this treasure in somecity with the pride of sultans and the insolence of nabobs. Atthis moment hope makes me despise their riches, which seem to mecontemptible. Yet perchance to-morrow deception will so act on me, thatI shall, on compulsion, consider such a contemptible possession as theutmost happiness. Oh, no!" exclaimed Edmond, "that will not be. Thewise, unerring Faria could not be mistaken in this one thing. Besides, it were better to die than to continue to lead this low and wretchedlife. " Thus Dantes, who but three months before had no desire butliberty had now not liberty enough, and panted for wealth. The cause wasnot in Dantes, but in providence, who, while limiting the power of man, has filled him with boundless desires.

Meanwhile, by a cleft between two walls of rock, following a path wornby a torrent, and which, in all human probability, human foot had neverbefore trod, Dantes approached the spot where he supposed the grottosmust have existed. Keeping along the shore, and examining the smallestobject with serious attention, he thought he could trace, on certainrocks, marks made by the hand of man.

Time, which encrusts all physical substances with its mossy mantle, asit invests all things of the mind with forgetfulness, seemed to haverespected these signs, which apparently had been made with some degreeof regularity, and probably with a definite purpose. Occasionally themarks were hidden under tufts of myrtle, which spread into large bushesladen with blossoms, or beneath parasitical lichen. So Edmond hadto separate the branches or brush away the moss to know where theguide-marks were. The sight of marks renewed Edmond fondest hopes. Mightit not have been the cardinal himself who had first traced them, inorder that they might serve as a guide for his nephew in the event ofa catastrophe, which he could not foresee would have been so complete. This solitary place was precisely suited to the requirements of a mandesirous of burying treasure. Only, might not these betraying marks haveattracted other eyes than those for whom they were made? and had thedark and wondrous island indeed faithfully guarded its precious secret?

It seemed, however, to Edmond, who was hidden from his comrades by theinequalities of the ground, that at sixty paces from the harbor themarks ceased; nor did they terminate at any grotto. A large round rock, placed solidly on its base, was the only spot to which they seemed tolead. Edmond concluded that perhaps instead of having reached the endof the route he had only explored its beginning, and he therefore turnedround and retraced his steps.

Meanwhile his comrades had prepared the repast, had got some water froma spring, spread out the fruit and bread, and cooked the kid. Just atthe moment when they were taking the dainty animal from the spit, theysaw Edmond springing with the boldness of a chamois from rock to rock, and they fired the signal agreed upon. The sportsman instantly changedhis direction, and ran quickly towards them. But even while they watchedhis daring progress, Edmond's foot slipped, and they saw him stagger onthe edge of a rock and disappear. They all rushed towards him, for allloved Edmond in spite of his superiority; yet Jacopo reached him first.

He found Edmond lying prone, bleeding, and almost senseless. He hadrolled down a declivity of twelve or fifteen feet. They poured a littlerum down his throat, and this remedy which had before been so beneficialto him, produced the same effect as formerly. Edmond opened his eyes, complained of great pain in his knee, a feeling of heaviness in hishead, and severe pains in his loins. They wished to carry him to theshore; but when they touched him, although under Jacopo's directions, hedeclared, with heavy groans, that he could not bear to be moved.

It may be supposed that Dantes did not now think of his dinner, but heinsisted that his comrades, who had not his reasons for fasting, shouldhave their meal. As for himself, he declared that he had only need ofa little rest, and that when they returned he should be easier. Thesailors did not require much urging. They were hungry, and the smell ofthe roasted kid was very savory, and your tars are not very ceremonious. An hour afterwards they returned. All that Edmond had been able todo was to drag himself about a dozen paces forward to lean against amoss-grown rock.

But, instead of growing easier, Dantes' pains appeared to increase inviolence. The old patron, who was obliged to sail in the morning inorder to land his cargo on the frontiers of Piedmont and France, between Nice and Frejus, urged Dantes to try and rise. Edmond made greatexertions in order to comply; but at each effort he fell back, moaningand turning pale.

"He has broken his ribs, " said the commander, in a low voice. "Nomatter; he is an excellent fellow, and we must not leave him. We willtry and carry him on board the tartan. " Dantes declared, however, that he would rather die where he was than undergo the agony which theslightest movement cost him. "Well, " said the patron, "let what mayhappen, it shall never be said that we deserted a good comrade like you. We will not go till evening. " This very much astonished the sailors, although, not one opposed it. The patron was so strict that this was thefirst time they had ever seen him give up an enterprise, or even delayin its execution. Dantes would not allow that any such infraction ofregular and proper rules should be made in his favor. "No, no, " he saidto the patron, "I was awkward, and it is just that I pay the penalty ofmy clumsiness. Leave me a small supply of biscuit, a gun, powder, andballs, to kill the kids or defend myself at need, and a pickaxe, that Imay build a shelter if you delay in coming back for me. "

"But you'll die of hunger, " said the patron.

"I would rather do so, " was Edmond reply, "than suffer the inexpressibleagonies which the slightest movement causes me. " The patron turnedtowards his vessel, which was rolling on the swell in the little harbor, and, with sails partly set, would be ready for sea when her toiletshould be completed.

"What are we to do, Maltese?" asked the captain. "We cannot leave youhere so, and yet we cannot stay. "

"Go, go!" exclaimed Dantes.

"We shall be absent at least a week, " said the patron, "and then we mustrun out of our course to come here and take you up again. "

"Why, " said Dantes, "if in two or three days you hail any fishing-boat, desire them to come here to me. I will pay twenty-five piastres for mypassage back to Leghorn. If you do not come across one, return for me. "The patron shook his head.

"Listen, Captain Baldi; there's one way of settling this, " said Jacopo. "Do you go, and I will stay and take care of the wounded man. "

"And give up your share of the venture, " said Edmond, "to remain withme?"

"Yes, " said Jacopo, "and without any hesitation. "

"You are a good fellow and a kind-hearted messmate, " replied Edmond, "and heaven will recompense you for your generous intentions; but I donot wish any one to stay with me. A day or two of rest will set me up, and I hope I shall find among the rocks certain herbs most excellent forbruises. "

A peculiar smile passed over Dantes' lips; he squeezed Jacopo's handwarmly, but nothing could shake his determination to remain--and remainalone. The smugglers left with Edmond what he had requested and setsail, but not without turning about several times, and each time makingsigns of a cordial farewell, to which Edmond replied with his handonly, as if he could not move the rest of his body. Then, when theyhad disappeared, he said with a smile, --"'Tis strange that it should beamong such men that we find proofs of friendship and devotion. " Thenhe dragged himself cautiously to the top of a rock, from which he hada full view of the sea, and thence he saw the tartan complete herpreparations for sailing, weigh anchor, and, balancing herself asgracefully as a water-fowl ere it takes to the wing, set sail. Atthe end of an hour she was completely out of sight; at least, it wasimpossible for the wounded man to see her any longer from the spot wherehe was. Then Dantes rose more agile and light than the kid among themyrtles and shrubs of these wild rocks, took his gun in one hand, hispickaxe in the other, and hastened towards the rock on which the markshe had noted terminated. "And now, " he exclaimed, remembering the taleof the Arabian fisherman, which Faria had related to him, "now, opensesame!"

Chapter 24. The Secret Cave.

The sun had nearly reached the meridian, and his scorching rays fellfull on the rocks, which seemed themselves sensible of the heat. Thousands of grasshoppers, hidden in the bushes, chirped with amonotonous and dull note; the leaves of the myrtle and olive trees wavedand rustled in the wind. At every step that Edmond took he disturbedthe lizards glittering with the hues of the emerald; afar off he sawthe wild goats bounding from crag to crag. In a word, the island wasinhabited, yet Edmond felt himself alone, guided by the hand of God. Hefelt an indescribable sensation somewhat akin to dread--that dread ofthe daylight which even in the desert makes us fear we are watched andobserved. This feeling was so strong that at the moment when Edmond wasabout to begin his labor, he stopped, laid down his pickaxe, seized hisgun, mounted to the summit of the highest rock, and from thence gazedround in every direction.

But it was not upon Corsica, the very houses of which he coulddistinguish; or on Sardinia; or on the Island of Elba, with itshistorical associations; or upon the almost imperceptible line that tothe experienced eye of a sailor alone revealed the coast of Genoathe proud, and Leghorn the commercial, that he gazed. It was at thebrigantine that had left in the morning, and the tartan that had justset sail, that Edmond fixed his eyes. The first was just disappearingin the straits of Bonifacio; the other, following an opposite direction, was about to round the Island of Corsica. This sight reassured him. Hethen looked at the objects near him. He saw that he was on the highestpoint of the island, --a statue on this vast pedestal of granite, nothinghuman appearing in sight, while the blue ocean beat against the base ofthe island, and covered it with a fringe of foam. Then he descended withcautious and slow step, for he dreaded lest an accident similar to thathe had so adroitly feigned should happen in reality.

Dantes, as we have said, had traced the marks along the rocks, and hehad noticed that they led to a small creek, which was hidden like thebath of some ancient nymph. This creek was sufficiently wide at itsmouth, and deep in the centre, to admit of the entrance of a smallvessel of the lugger class, which would be perfectly concealed fromobservation.

Then following the clew that, in the hands of the Abbe Faria, hadbeen so skilfully used to guide him through the Daedalian labyrinth ofprobabilities, he thought that the Cardinal Spada, anxious not to bewatched, had entered the creek, concealed his little barque, followedthe line marked by the notches in the rock, and at the end of it hadburied his treasure. It was this idea that had brought Dantes back tothe circular rock. One thing only perplexed Edmond, and destroyed histheory. How could this rock, which weighed several tons, have beenlifted to this spot, without the aid of many men? Suddenly an ideaflashed across his mind. Instead of raising it, thought he, they havelowered it. And he sprang from the rock in order to inspect the baseon which it had formerly stood. He soon perceived that a slope had beenformed, and the rock had slid along this until it stopped at the spotit now occupied. A large stone had served as a wedge; flints and pebbleshad been inserted around it, so as to conceal the orifice; this speciesof masonry had been covered with earth, and grass and weeds had grownthere, moss had clung to the stones, myrtle-bushes had taken root, andthe old rock seemed fixed to the earth.

Dantes dug away the earth carefully, and detected, or fancied hedetected, the ingenious artifice. He attacked this wall, cemented by thehand of time, with his pickaxe. After ten minutes' labor the wall gaveway, and a hole large enough to insert the arm was opened. Danteswent and cut the strongest olive-tree he could find, stripped off itsbranches, inserted it in the hole, and used it as a lever. But the rockwas too heavy, and too firmly wedged, to be moved by any one man, werehe Hercules himself. Dantes saw that he must attack the wedge. Buthow? He cast his eyes around, and saw the horn full of powder whichhis friend Jacopo had left him. He smiled; the infernal invention wouldserve him for this purpose. With the aid of his pickaxe, Dantes, afterthe manner of a labor-saving pioneer, dug a mine between the upper rockand the one that supported it, filled it with powder, then made a matchby rolling his handkerchief in saltpetre. He lighted it and retired. Theexplosion soon followed; the upper rock was lifted from its base by theterrific force of the powder; the lower one flew into pieces; thousandsof insects escaped from the aperture Dantes had previously formed, anda huge snake, like the guardian demon of the treasure, rolled himselfalong in darkening coils, and disappeared.

Dantes approached the upper rock, which now, without any support, leanedtowards the sea. The intrepid treasure-seeker walked round it, and, selecting the spot from whence it appeared most susceptible to attack, placed his lever in one of the crevices, and strained every nerve tomove the mass. The rock, already shaken by the explosion, totteredon its base. Dantes redoubled his efforts; he seemed like one of theancient Titans, who uprooted the mountains to hurl against the fatherof the gods. The rock yielded, rolled over, bounded from point to point, and finally disappeared in the ocean.

On the spot it had occupied was a circular space, exposing an iron ringlet into a square flag-stone. Dantes uttered a cry of joy and surprise;never had a first attempt been crowned with more perfect success. Hewould fain have continued, but his knees trembled, and his heart beatso violently, and his sight became so dim, that he was forced to pause. This feeling lasted but for a moment. Edmond inserted his lever in thering and exerted all his strength; the flag-stone yielded, and disclosedsteps that descended until they were lost in the obscurity of asubterraneous grotto. Any one else would have rushed on with a cry ofjoy. Dantes turned pale, hesitated, and reflected. "Come, " said he tohimself, "be a man. I am accustomed to adversity. I must not be castdown by the discovery that I have been deceived. What, then, would bethe use of all I have suffered? The heart breaks when, after having beenelated by flattering hopes, it sees all its illusions destroyed. Fariahas dreamed this; the Cardinal Spada buried no treasure here; perhaps henever came here, or if he did, Caesar Borgia, the intrepid adventurer, the stealthy and indefatigable plunderer, has followed him, discoveredhis traces, pursued them as I have done, raised the stone, anddescending before me, has left me nothing. " He remained motionless andpensive, his eyes fixed on the gloomy aperture that was open at hisfeet.

"Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer entertain the slightesthopes, the end of this adventure becomes simply a matter of curiosity. "And he remained again motionless and thoughtful.

"Yes, yes; this is an adventure worthy a place in the varied career ofthat royal bandit. This fabulous event formed but a link in a long chainof marvels. Yes, Borgia has been here, a torch in one hand, a sword inthe other, and within twenty paces, at the foot of this rock, perhapstwo guards kept watch on land and sea, while their master descended, asI am about to descend, dispelling the darkness before his awe-inspiringprogress. "

"But what was the fate of the guards who thus possessed his secret?"asked Dantes of himself.

"The fate, " replied he, smiling, "of those who buried Alaric. "

"Yet, had he come, " thought Dantes, "he would have found the treasure, and Borgia, he who compared Italy to an artichoke, which he could devourleaf by leaf, knew too well the value of time to waste it in replacingthis rock. I will go down. "

Then he descended, a smile on his lips, and murmuring that last word ofhuman philosophy, "Perhaps!" But instead of the darkness, and the thickand mephitic atmosphere he had expected to find, Dantes saw a dim andbluish light, which, as well as the air, entered, not merely by theaperture he had just formed, but by the interstices and crevices ofthe rock which were visible from without, and through which he coulddistinguish the blue sky and the waving branches of the evergreen oaks, and the tendrils of the creepers that grew from the rocks. After havingstood a few minutes in the cavern, the atmosphere of which was ratherwarm than damp, Dantes' eye, habituated as it was to darkness, couldpierce even to the remotest angles of the cavern, which was of granitethat sparkled like diamonds. "Alas, " said Edmond, smiling, "these arethe treasures the cardinal has left; and the good abbe, seeing in adream these glittering walls, has indulged in fallacious hopes. "

But he called to mind the words of the will, which he knew by heart. "Inthe farthest angle of the second opening, " said the cardinal's will. Hehad only found the first grotto; he had now to seek the second. Dantes continued his search. He reflected that this second grotto mustpenetrate deeper into the island; he examined the stones, and soundedone part of the wall where he fancied the opening existed, masked forprecaution's sake. The pickaxe struck for a moment with a dull soundthat drew out of Dantes' forehead large drops of perspiration. At lastit seemed to him that one part of the wall gave forth a more hollow anddeeper echo; he eagerly advanced, and with the quickness of perceptionthat no one but a prisoner possesses, saw that there, in allprobability, the opening must be.

However, he, like Caesar Borgia, knew the value of time; and, inorder to avoid fruitless toil, he sounded all the other walls with hispickaxe, struck the earth with the butt of his gun, and finding nothingthat appeared suspicious, returned to that part of the wall whenceissued the consoling sound he had before heard. He again struck it, andwith greater force. Then a singular thing occurred. As he struck thewall, pieces of stucco similar to that used in the ground work ofarabesques broke off, and fell to the ground in flakes, exposing a largewhite stone. The aperture of the rock had been closed with stones, thenthis stucco had been applied, and painted to imitate granite. Dantesstruck with the sharp end of his pickaxe, which entered someway betweenthe interstices. It was there he must dig. But by some strange play ofemotion, in proportion as the proofs that Faria, had not beendeceived became stronger, so did his heart give way, and a feeling ofdiscouragement stole over him. This last proof, instead of giving himfresh strength, deprived him of it; the pickaxe descended, or ratherfell; he placed it on the ground, passed his hand over his brow, andremounted the stairs, alleging to himself, as an excuse, a desire tobe assured that no one was watching him, but in reality because he feltthat he was about to faint. The island was deserted, and the sun seemedto cover it with its fiery glance; afar off, a few small fishing boatsstudded the bosom of the blue ocean.

Dantes had tasted nothing, but he thought not of hunger at such amoment; he hastily swallowed a few drops of rum, and again entered thecavern. The pickaxe that had seemed so heavy, was now like a feather inhis grasp; he seized it, and attacked the wall. After several blows heperceived that the stones were not cemented, but had been merely placedone upon the other, and covered with stucco; he inserted the point ofhis pickaxe, and using the handle as a lever, with joy soon saw thestone turn as if on hinges, and fall at his feet. He had nothing moreto do now, but with the iron tooth of the pickaxe to draw the stonestowards him one by one. The aperture was already sufficiently large forhim to enter, but by waiting, he could still cling to hope, and retardthe certainty of deception. At last, after renewed hesitation, Dantesentered the second grotto. The second grotto was lower and more gloomythan the first; the air that could only enter by the newly formedopening had the mephitic smell Dantes was surprised not to find in theouter cavern. He waited in order to allow pure air to displace the foulatmosphere, and then went on. At the left of the opening was a dark anddeep angle. But to Dantes' eye there was no darkness. He glanced aroundthis second grotto; it was, like the first, empty.

The treasure, if it existed, was buried in this corner. The time hadat length arrived; two feet of earth removed, and Dantes' fate wouldbe decided. He advanced towards the angle, and summoning all hisresolution, attacked the ground with the pickaxe. At the fifth or sixthblow the pickaxe struck against an iron substance. Never did funeralknell, never did alarm-bell, produce a greater effect on the hearer. Had Dantes found nothing he could not have become more ghastly pale. He again struck his pickaxe into the earth, and encountered the sameresistance, but not the same sound. "It is a casket of wood bound withiron, " thought he. At this moment a shadow passed rapidly before theopening; Dantes seized his gun, sprang through the opening, and mountedthe stair. A wild goat had passed before the mouth of the cave, and wasfeeding at a little distance. This would have been a favorable occasionto secure his dinner; but Dantes feared lest the report of his gunshould attract attention.

He thought a moment, cut a branch of a resinous tree, lighted it at thefire at which the smugglers had prepared their breakfast, and descendedwith this torch. He wished to see everything. He approached the hole hehad dug, and now, with the aid of the torch, saw that his pickaxe had inreality struck against iron and wood. He planted his torch in the groundand resumed his labor. In an instant a space three feet long by two feetbroad was cleared, and Dantes could see an oaken coffer, bound with cutsteel; in the middle of the lid he saw engraved on a silver plate, whichwas still untarnished, the arms of the Spada family--viz. , a sword, pale, on an oval shield, like all the Italian armorial bearings, andsurmounted by a cardinal's hat; Dantes easily recognized them, Faria hadso often drawn them for him. There was no longer any doubt: the treasurewas there--no one would have been at such pains to conceal an emptycasket. In an instant he had cleared every obstacle away, and he sawsuccessively the lock, placed between two padlocks, and the two handlesat each end, all carved as things were carved at that epoch, when artrendered the commonest metals precious. Dantes seized the handles, andstrove to lift the coffer; it was impossible. He sought to open it; lockand padlock were fastened; these faithful guardians seemed unwillingto surrender their trust. Dantes inserted the sharp end of the pickaxebetween the coffer and the lid, and pressing with all his force on thehandle, burst open the fastenings. The hinges yielded in their turn andfell, still holding in their grasp fragments of the wood, and the chestwas open.

Edmond was seized with vertigo; he cocked his gun and laid it besidehim. He then closed his eyes as children do in order that they may seein the resplendent night of their own imagination more stars than arevisible in the firmament; then he re-opened them, and stood motionlesswith amazement. Three compartments divided the coffer. In the first, blazed piles of golden coin; in the second, were ranged bars ofunpolished gold, which possessed nothing attractive save their value;in the third, Edmond grasped handfuls of diamonds, pearls, and rubies, which, as they fell on one another, sounded like hail against glass. After having touched, felt, examined these treasures, Edmond rushedthrough the caverns like a man seized with frenzy; he leaped on a rock, from whence he could behold the sea. He was alone--alone with thesecountless, these unheard-of treasures! was he awake, or was it but adream?

He would fain have gazed upon his gold, and yet he had not strengthenough; for an instant he leaned his head in his hands as if to preventhis senses from leaving him, and then rushed madly about the rocks ofMonte Cristo, terrifying the wild goats and scaring the sea-fowls withhis wild cries and gestures; then he returned, and, still unable tobelieve the evidence of his senses, rushed into the grotto, and foundhimself before this mine of gold and jewels. This time he fell onhis knees, and, clasping his hands convulsively, uttered a prayerintelligible to God alone. He soon became calmer and more happy, foronly now did he begin to realize his felicity. He then set himself towork to count his fortune. There were a thousand ingots of gold, eachweighing from two to three pounds; then he piled up twenty-five thousandcrowns, each worth about eighty francs of our money, and bearing theeffigies of Alexander VI. And his predecessors; and he saw that thecomplement was not half empty. And he measured ten double handfuls ofpearls, diamonds, and other gems, many of which, mounted by the mostfamous workmen, were valuable beyond their intrinsic worth. Dantessaw the light gradually disappear, and fearing to be surprised in thecavern, left it, his gun in his hand. A piece of biscuit and a smallquantity of rum formed his supper, and he snatched a few hours' sleep, lying over the mouth of the cave.

It was a night of joy and terror, such as this man of stupendousemotions had already experienced twice or thrice in his lifetime.

Chapter 25. The Unknown.

Day, for which Dantes had so eagerly and impatiently waited with openeyes, again dawned. With the first light Dantes resumed his search. Again he climbed the rocky height he had ascended the previous evening, and strained his view to catch every peculiarity of the landscape;but it wore the same wild, barren aspect when seen by the rays of themorning sun which it had done when surveyed by the fading glimmer ofeve. Descending into the grotto, he lifted the stone, filled his pocketswith gems, put the box together as well and securely as he could, sprinkled fresh sand over the spot from which it had been taken, andthen carefully trod down the earth to give it everywhere a uniformappearance; then, quitting the grotto, he replaced the stone, heapingon it broken masses of rocks and rough fragments of crumbling granite, filling the interstices with earth, into which he deftly insertedrapidly growing plants, such as the wild myrtle and flowering thorn, then carefully watering these new plantations, he scrupulously effacedevery trace of footsteps, leaving the approach to the cavern assavage-looking and untrodden as he had found it. This done, heimpatiently awaited the return of his companions. To wait at MonteCristo for the purpose of watching like a dragon over the almostincalculable riches that had thus fallen into his possession satisfiednot the cravings of his heart, which yearned to return to dwell amongmankind, and to assume the rank, power, and influence which are alwaysaccorded to wealth--that first and greatest of all the forces within thegrasp of man.

On the sixth day, the smugglers returned. From a distance Dantesrecognized the rig and handling of The Young Amelia, and dragginghimself with affected difficulty towards the landing-place, he met hiscompanions with an assurance that, although considerably better thanwhen they quitted him, he still suffered acutely from his late accident. He then inquired how they had fared in their trip. To this question thesmugglers replied that, although successful in landing their cargo insafety, they had scarcely done so when they received intelligence that aguard-ship had just quitted the port of Toulon and was crowding allsail towards them. This obliged them to make all the speed they could toevade the enemy, when they could but lament the absence of Dantes, whosesuperior skill in the management of a vessel would have availed them somaterially. In fact, the pursuing vessel had almost overtaken themwhen, fortunately, night came on, and enabled them to double the Cape ofCorsica, and so elude all further pursuit. Upon the whole, however, thetrip had been sufficiently successful to satisfy all concerned; whilethe crew, and particularly Jacopo, expressed great regrets that Danteshad not been an equal sharer with themselves in the profits, whichamounted to no less a sum than fifty piastres each.

Edmond preserved the most admirable self-command, not suffering thefaintest indication of a smile to escape him at the enumeration of allthe benefits he would have reaped had he been able to quit the island;but as The Young Amelia had merely come to Monte Cristo to fetch himaway, he embarked that same evening, and proceeded with the captain toLeghorn. Arrived at Leghorn, he repaired to the house of a Jew, a dealerin precious stones, to whom he disposed of four of his smallest diamondsfor five thousand francs each. Dantes half feared that such valuablejewels in the hands of a poor sailor like himself might excitesuspicion; but the cunning purchaser asked no troublesome questionsconcerning a bargain by which he gained a round profit of at leasteighty per cent.

The following day Dantes presented Jacopo with an entirely new vessel, accompanying the gift by a donation of one hundred piastres, that hemight provide himself with a suitable crew and other requisites for hisoutfit, upon condition that he would go at once to Marseilles for thepurpose of inquiring after an old man named Louis Dantes, residingin the Allees de Meillan, and also a young woman called Mercedes, aninhabitant of the Catalan village. Jacopo could scarcely believe hissenses at receiving this magnificent present, which Dantes hastened toaccount for by saying that he had merely been a sailor from whim and adesire to spite his family, who did not allow him as much money as heliked to spend; but that on his arrival at Leghorn he had come intopossession of a large fortune, left him by an uncle, whose sole heirhe was. The superior education of Dantes gave an air of such extremeprobability to this statement that it never once occurred to Jacopo todoubt its accuracy. The term for which Edmond had engaged to serve onboard The Young Amelia having expired, Dantes took leave of the captain, who at first tried all his powers of persuasion to induce him to remainas one of the crew, but having been told the history of the legacy, heceased to importune him further. The following morning Jacopo set sailfor Marseilles, with directions from Dantes to join him at the Island ofMonte Cristo.

Having seen Jacopo fairly out of the harbor, Dantes proceeded to makehis final adieus on board The Young Amelia, distributing so liberal agratuity among her crew as to secure for him the good wishes of all, and expressions of cordial interest in all that concerned him. To thecaptain he promised to write when he had made up his mind as to hisfuture plans. Then Dantes departed for Genoa. At the moment of hisarrival a small yacht was under trial in the bay; this yacht had beenbuilt by order of an Englishman, who, having heard that the Genoeseexcelled all other builders along the shores of the Mediterranean inthe construction of fast-sailing vessels, was desirous of possessing aspecimen of their skill; the price agreed upon between the Englishmanand the Genoese builder was forty thousand francs. Dantes, struck withthe beauty and capability of the little vessel, applied to its owner totransfer it to him, offering sixty thousand francs, upon condition thathe should be allowed to take immediate possession. The proposal was tooadvantageous to be refused, the more so as the person for whom theyacht was intended had gone upon a tour through Switzerland, and wasnot expected back in less than three weeks or a month, by which timethe builder reckoned upon being able to complete another. A bargain wastherefore struck. Dantes led the owner of the yacht to the dwelling ofa Jew; retired with the latter for a few minutes to a small back parlor, and upon their return the Jew counted out to the shipbuilder the sum ofsixty thousand francs in bright gold pieces.

The delighted builder then offered his services in providing a suitablecrew for the little vessel, but this Dantes declined with many thanks, saying he was accustomed to cruise about quite alone, and his principalpleasure consisted in managing his yacht himself; the only thing thebuilder could oblige him in would be to contrive a sort of secret closetin the cabin at his bed's head, the closet to contain three divisions, so constructed as to be concealed from all but himself. The buildercheerfully undertook the commission, and promised to have these secretplaces completed by the next day, Dantes furnishing the dimensions andplan in accordance with which they were to be constructed.

The following day Dantes sailed with his yacht from Genoa, under theinspection of an immense crowd drawn together by curiosity to see therich Spanish nobleman who preferred managing his own yacht. But theirwonder was soon changed to admiration at seeing the perfect skill withwhich Dantes handled the helm. The boat, indeed, seemed to be animatedwith almost human intelligence, so promptly did it obey the slightesttouch; and Dantes required but a short trial of his beautiful craft toacknowledge that the Genoese had not without reason attained theirhigh reputation in the art of shipbuilding. The spectators followed thelittle vessel with their eyes as long as it remained visible; they thenturned their conjectures upon her probable destination. Some insistedshe was making for Corsica, others the Island of Elba; bets were offeredto any amount that she was bound for Spain; while Africa was positivelyreported by many persons as her intended course; but no one thought ofMonte Cristo. Yet thither it was that Dantes guided his vessel, and atMonte Cristo he arrived at the close of the second day; his boat hadproved herself a first-class sailer, and had come the distance fromGenoa in thirty-five hours. Dantes had carefully noted the generalappearance of the shore, and, instead of landing at the usual place, hedropped anchor in the little creek. The island was utterly deserted, andbore no evidence of having been visited since he went away; his treasurewas just as he had left it. Early on the following morning he commencedthe removal of his riches, and ere nightfall the whole of his immensewealth was safely deposited in the compartments of the secret locker.

A week passed by. Dantes employed it in manoeuvring his yacht round theisland, studying it as a skilful horseman would the animal he destinedfor some important service, till at the end of that time he wasperfectly conversant with its good and bad qualities. The former Dantesproposed to augment, the latter to remedy.

Upon the eighth day he discerned a small vessel under full sailapproaching Monte Cristo. As it drew near, he recognized it as the boathe had given to Jacopo. He immediately signalled it. His signal wasreturned, and in two hours afterwards the new-comer lay at anchor besidethe yacht. A mournful answer awaited each of Edmond's eager inquiriesas to the information Jacopo had obtained. Old Dantes was dead, andMercedes had disappeared. Dantes listened to these melancholy tidingswith outward calmness; but, leaping lightly ashore, he signified hisdesire to be quite alone. In a couple of hours he returned. Two of themen from Jacopo's boat came on board the yacht to assist in navigatingit, and he gave orders that she should be steered direct to Marseilles. For his father's death he was in some manner prepared; but he knew nothow to account for the mysterious disappearance of Mercedes.

Without divulging his secret, Dantes could not give sufficiently clearinstructions to an agent. There were, besides, other particulars hewas desirous of ascertaining, and those were of a nature he alone couldinvestigate in a manner satisfactory to himself. His looking-glasshad assured him, during his stay at Leghorn, that he ran no risk ofrecognition; moreover, he had now the means of adopting any disguisehe thought proper. One fine morning, then, his yacht, followed by thelittle fishing-boat, boldly entered the port of Marseilles, and anchoredexactly opposite the spot from whence, on the never-to-be-forgottennight of his departure for the Chateau d'If, he had been put on boardthe boat destined to convey him thither. Still Dantes could not viewwithout a shudder the approach of a gendarme who accompanied theofficers deputed to demand his bill of health ere the yacht waspermitted to hold communication with the shore; but with that perfectself-possession he had acquired during his acquaintance with Faria, Dantes coolly presented an English passport he had obtained fromLeghorn, and as this gave him a standing which a French passport wouldnot have afforded, he was informed that there existed no obstacle to hisimmediate debarkation.

The first person to attract the attention of Dantes, as he landed on theCanebiere, was one of the crew belonging to the Pharaon. Edmond welcomedthe meeting with this fellow--who had been one of his own sailors--as asure means of testing the extent of the change which time had worked inhis own appearance. Going straight towards him, he propounded a varietyof questions on different subjects, carefully watching the man'scountenance as he did so; but not a word or look implied that he had theslightest idea of ever having seen before the person with whom he wasthen conversing. Giving the sailor a piece of money in return for hiscivility, Dantes proceeded onwards; but ere he had gone many steps heheard the man loudly calling him to stop. Dantes instantly turned tomeet him. "I beg your pardon, sir, " said the honest fellow, in almostbreathless haste, "but I believe you made a mistake; you intended togive me a two-franc piece, and see, you gave me a double Napoleon. "

"Thank you, my good friend. I see that I have made a trifling mistake, as you say; but by way of rewarding your honesty I give you anotherdouble Napoleon, that you may drink to my health, and be able to askyour messmates to join you. "

So extreme was the surprise of the sailor, that he was unable evento thank Edmond, whose receding figure he continued to gaze after inspeechless astonishment. "Some nabob from India, " was his comment.

Dantes, meanwhile, went on his way. Each step he trod oppressed hisheart with fresh emotion; his first and most indelible recollectionswere there; not a tree, not a street, that he passed but seemed filledwith dear and cherished memories. And thus he proceeded onwards till hearrived at the end of the Rue de Noailles, from whence a full view ofthe Allees de Meillan was obtained. At this spot, so pregnant with fondand filial remembrances, his heart beat almost to bursting, his kneestottered under him, a mist floated over his sight, and had he not clungfor support to one of the trees, he would inevitably have fallen to theground and been crushed beneath the many vehicles continually passingthere. Recovering himself, however, he wiped the perspiration from hisbrows, and stopped not again till he found himself at the door of thehouse in which his father had lived.

The nasturtiums and other plants, which his father had delighted totrain before his window, had all disappeared from the upper part of thehouse. Leaning against the tree, he gazed thoughtfully for a time at theupper stories of the shabby little house. Then he advanced to the door, and asked whether there were any rooms to be let. Though answered in thenegative, he begged so earnestly to be permitted to visit those onthe fifth floor, that, in despite of the oft-repeated assurance of theconcierge that they were occupied, Dantes succeeded in inducing theman to go up to the tenants, and ask permission for a gentleman to beallowed to look at them.

The tenants of the humble lodging were a young couple who had beenscarcely married a week; and seeing them, Dantes sighed heavily. Nothingin the two small chambers forming the apartments remained as it had beenin the time of the elder Dantes; the very paper was different, while thearticles of antiquated furniture with which the rooms had been filled inEdmond's time had all disappeared; the four walls alone remained as hehad left them. The bed belonging to the present occupants was placed asthe former owner of the chamber had been accustomed to have his; and, inspite of his efforts to prevent it, the eyes of Edmond were suffusedin tears as he reflected that on that spot the old man had breathedhis last, vainly calling for his son. The young couple gazed withastonishment at the sight of their visitor's emotion, and wondered tosee the large tears silently chasing each other down his otherwise sternand immovable features; but they felt the sacredness of his grief, and kindly refrained from questioning him as to its cause, while, withinstinctive delicacy, they left him to indulge his sorrow alone. Whenhe withdrew from the scene of his painful recollections, they bothaccompanied him downstairs, reiterating their hope that he would comeagain whenever he pleased, and assuring him that their poor dwellingwould ever be open to him. As Edmond passed the door on the fourthfloor, he paused to inquire whether Caderousse the tailor still dweltthere; but he received, for reply, that the person in question had gotinto difficulties, and at the present time kept a small inn on the routefrom Bellegarde to Beaucaire.

Having obtained the address of the person to whom the house in theAllees de Meillan belonged, Dantes next proceeded thither, and, underthe name of Lord Wilmore (the name and title inscribed on his passport), purchased the small dwelling for the sum of twenty-five thousand francs, at least ten thousand more than it was worth; but had its owner askedhalf a million, it would unhesitatingly have been given. The very sameday the occupants of the apartments on the fifth floor of the house, nowbecome the property of Dantes, were duly informed by the notary who hadarranged the necessary transfer of deeds, etc. , that the new landlordgave them their choice of any of the rooms in the house, without theleast augmentation of rent, upon condition of their giving instantpossession of the two small chambers they at present inhabited.

This strange event aroused great wonder and curiosity in theneighborhood of the Allees de Meillan, and a multitude of theorieswere afloat, none of which was anywhere near the truth. But what raisedpublic astonishment to a climax, and set all conjecture at defiance, wasthe knowledge that the same stranger who had in the morning visited theAllees de Meillan had been seen in the evening walking in the littlevillage of the Catalans, and afterwards observed to enter a poorfisherman's hut, and to pass more than an hour in inquiring afterpersons who had either been dead or gone away for more than fifteen orsixteen years. But on the following day the family from whom all theseparticulars had been asked received a handsome present, consisting of anentirely new fishing-boat, with two seines and a tender. The delightedrecipients of these munificent gifts would gladly have poured outtheir thanks to their generous benefactor, but they had seen him, upon quitting the hut, merely give some orders to a sailor, and thenspringing lightly on horseback, leave Marseilles by the Porte d'Aix.

Chapter 26. The Pont du Gard Inn.

Such of my readers as have made a pedestrian excursion to the southof France may perchance have noticed, about midway between the town ofBeaucaire and the village of Bellegarde, --a little nearer to the formerthan to the latter, --a small roadside inn, from the front of whichhung, creaking and flapping in the wind, a sheet of tin covered witha grotesque representation of the Pont du Gard. This modern place ofentertainment stood on the left-hand side of the post road, and backedupon the Rhone. It also boasted of what in Languedoc is styled a garden, consisting of a small plot of ground, on the side opposite to the mainentrance reserved for the reception of guests. A few dingy olives andstunted fig-trees struggled hard for existence, but their withered dustyfoliage abundantly proved how unequal was the conflict. Between thesesickly shrubs grew a scanty supply of garlic, tomatoes, and eschalots;while, lone and solitary, like a forgotten sentinel, a tall pine raisedits melancholy head in one of the corners of this unattractive spot, anddisplayed its flexible stem and fan-shaped summit dried and cracked bythe fierce heat of the sub-tropical sun.

In the surrounding plain, which more resembled a dusty lake than solidground, were scattered a few miserable stalks of wheat, the effect, no doubt, of a curious desire on the part of the agriculturists of thecountry to see whether such a thing as the raising of grain in thoseparched regions was practicable. Each stalk served as a perch for agrasshopper, which regaled the passers by through this Egyptian scenewith its strident, monotonous note.

For about seven or eight years the little tavern had been kept by a manand his wife, with two servants, --a chambermaid named Trinette, anda hostler called Pecaud. This small staff was quite equal to allthe requirements, for a canal between Beaucaire and Aiguemortes hadrevolutionized transportation by substituting boats for the cart andthe stagecoach. And, as though to add to the daily misery which thisprosperous canal inflicted on the unfortunate inn-keeper, whose utterruin it was fast accomplishing, it was situated between the Rhone fromwhich it had its source and the post-road it had depleted, not ahundred steps from the inn, of which we have given a brief but faithfuldescription.

The inn-keeper himself was a man of from forty to fifty-five years ofage, tall, strong, and bony, a perfect specimen of the natives of thosesouthern latitudes; he had dark, sparkling, and deep-set eyes, hookednose, and teeth white as those of a carnivorous animal; his hair, likehis beard, which he wore under his chin, was thick and curly, and inspite of his age but slightly interspersed with a few silvery threads. His naturally dark complexion had assumed a still further shade of brownfrom the habit the unfortunate man had acquired of stationing himselffrom morning till eve at the threshold of his door, on the lookout forguests who seldom came, yet there he stood, day after day, exposed tothe meridional rays of a burning sun, with no other protection for hishead than a red handkerchief twisted around it, after the manner ofthe Spanish muleteers. This man was our old acquaintance, GaspardCaderousse. His wife, on the contrary, whose maiden name had beenMadeleine Radelle, was pale, meagre, and sickly-looking. Born in theneighborhood of Arles, she had shared in the beauty for which its womenare proverbial; but that beauty had gradually withered beneath thedevastating influence of the slow fever so prevalent among dwellersby the ponds of Aiguemortes and the marshes of Camargue. She remainednearly always in her second-floor chamber, shivering in her chair, orstretched languid and feeble on her bed, while her husband kept hisdaily watch at the door--a duty he performed with so much the greaterwillingness, as it saved him the necessity of listening to the endlessplaints and murmurs of his helpmate, who never saw him without breakingout into bitter invectives against fate; to all of which her husbandwould calmly return an unvarying reply, in these philosophic words:--

"Hush, La Carconte. It is God's pleasure that things should be so. "

The sobriquet of La Carconte had been bestowed on Madeleine Radellefrom the fact that she had been born in a village, so called, situatedbetween Salon and Lambesc; and as a custom existed among the inhabitantsof that part of France where Caderousse lived of styling every person bysome particular and distinctive appellation, her husband had bestowed onher the name of La Carconte in place of her sweet and euphonious name ofMadeleine, which, in all probability, his rude gutteral language wouldnot have enabled him to pronounce. Still, let it not be supposedthat amid this affected resignation to the will of Providence, theunfortunate inn-keeper did not writhe under the double misery of seeingthe hateful canal carry off his customers and his profits, and the dailyinfliction of his peevish partner's murmurs and lamentations.

Like other dwellers in the south, he was a man of sober habits andmoderate desires, but fond of external show, vain, and addicted todisplay. During the days of his prosperity, not a festivity took placewithout himself and wife being among the spectators. He dressed in thepicturesque costume worn upon grand occasions by the inhabitants of thesouth of France, bearing equal resemblance to the style adopted both bythe Catalans and Andalusians; while La Carconte displayed the charmingfashion prevalent among the women of Arles, a mode of attire borrowedequally from Greece and Arabia. But, by degrees, watch-chains, necklaces, parti-colored scarfs, embroidered bodices, velvet vests, elegantly worked stockings, striped gaiters, and silver buckles for theshoes, all disappeared; and Gaspard Caderousse, unable to appear abroadin his pristine splendor, had given up any further participation in thepomps and vanities, both for himself and wife, although a bitter feelingof envious discontent filled his mind as the sound of mirth and merrymusic from the joyous revellers reached even the miserable hostelry towhich he still clung, more for the shelter than the profit it afforded.

Caderousse, then, was, as usual, at his place of observation beforethe door, his eyes glancing listlessly from a piece of closely shavengrass--on which some fowls were industriously, though fruitlessly, endeavoring to turn up some grain or insect suited to their palate--tothe deserted road, which led away to the north and south, when he wasaroused by the shrill voice of his wife, and grumbling to himself as hewent, he mounted to her chamber, first taking care, however, to set theentrance door wide open, as an invitation to any chance traveller whomight 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 andlonely as a desert at mid-day. There it lay stretching out into oneinterminable line of dust and sand, with its sides bordered by tall, meagre trees, altogether presenting so uninviting an appearance, that noone in his senses could have imagined that any traveller, at libertyto regulate his hours for journeying, would choose to expose himself insuch a formidable Sahara. Nevertheless, had Caderousse but retainedhis post a few minutes longer, he might have caught a dim outline ofsomething approaching from the direction of Bellegarde; as the movingobject drew nearer, he would easily have perceived that it consisted ofa man and horse, between whom the kindest and most amiable understandingappeared to exist. The horse was of Hungarian breed, and ambled alongat an easy pace. His rider was a priest, dressed in black, and wearing athree-cornered hat; and, spite of the ardent rays of a noonday sun, thepair came on with a fair degree of rapidity.

Having arrived before the Pont du Gard, the horse stopped, but whetherfor his own pleasure or that of his rider would have been difficultto say. However that might have been, the priest, dismounting, led hissteed by the bridle in search of some place to which he could securehim. Availing himself of a handle that projected from a half-fallendoor, he tied the animal safely and having drawn a red cottonhandkerchief, from his pocket, wiped away the perspiration that streamedfrom his brow, then, advancing to the door, struck thrice with the endof his iron-shod stick. At this unusual sound, a huge black dog camerushing to meet the daring assailant of his ordinarily tranquilabode, snarling and displaying his sharp white teeth with a determinedhostility that abundantly proved how little he was accustomed tosociety. At that moment a heavy footstep was heard descending thewooden staircase that led from the upper floor, and, with many bows andcourteous smiles, mine host of the Pont du Gard besought his guest toenter.

"You are welcome, sir, most welcome!" repeated the astonishedCaderousse. "Now, then, Margotin, " cried he, speaking to the dog, "willyou be quiet? Pray don't heed him, sir!--he only barks, he never bites. I make no doubt a glass of good wine would be acceptable this dreadfullyhot day. " Then perceiving for the first time the garb of the travellerhe had to entertain, Caderousse hastily exclaimed: "A thousand pardons!I really did not observe whom I had the honor to receive under my poorroof. What would the abbe please to have? What refreshment can I offer?All I have is at his service. "

The priest gazed on the person addressing him with a long and searchinggaze--there even seemed a disposition on his part to court a similarscrutiny on the part of the inn-keeper; then, observing in thecountenance of the latter no other expression than extreme surprise athis own want of attention to an inquiry so courteously worded, he deemedit as well to terminate this dumb show, and therefore said, speakingwith a strong Italian accent, "You are, I presume, M. Caderousse?"

"Yes, sir, " answered the host, even more surprised at the questionthan he had been by the silence which had preceded it; "I am GaspardCaderousse, at your service. "

"Gaspard Caderousse, " rejoined the priest. "Yes, --Christian and surnameare the same. You formerly lived, I believe in the Allees de Meillan, onthe fourth floor?"

"I did. "

"And you followed the business of a tailor?"

"True, I was a tailor, till the trade fell off. It is so hot atMarseilles, that really I believe that the respectable inhabitants willin time go without any clothing whatever. But talking of heat, is therenothing I can offer you by way of refreshment?"

"Yes; let me have a bottle of your best wine, and then, with yourpermission, we will resume our conversation from where we left off. "

"As you please, sir, " said Caderousse, who, anxious not to lose thepresent opportunity of finding a customer for one of the few bottles ofCahors still remaining in his possession, hastily raised a trap-door inthe floor of the apartment they were in, which served both as parlorand kitchen. Upon issuing forth from his subterranean retreat at theexpiration of five minutes, he found the abbe seated upon a woodenstool, leaning his elbow on a table, while Margotin, whose animosityseemed appeased by the unusual command of the traveller forrefreshments, had crept up to him, and had established himself verycomfortably between his knees, his long, skinny neck resting on his lap, while his dim eye was fixed earnestly on the traveller's face.

"Are you quite alone?" inquired the guest, as Caderousse placed beforehim the bottle of wine and a glass.

"Quite, quite alone, " replied the man--"or, at least, practically so, for my poor wife, who is the only person in the house besides myself, islaid up with illness, and unable to render me the least assistance, poorthing!"

"You are married, then?" said the priest, with a show of interest, glancing round as he spoke at the scanty furnishings of the apartment.

"Ah, sir, " said Caderousse with a sigh, "it is easy to perceive I am nota rich man; but in this world a man does not thrive the better for beinghonest. " The abbe fixed on him a searching, penetrating glance.

"Yes, honest--I can certainly say that much for myself, " continued theinn-keeper, fairly sustaining the scrutiny of the abbe's gaze; "Ican boast with truth of being an honest man; and, " continued hesignificantly, with a hand on his breast and shaking his head, "that ismore than every one can say nowadays. "

"So much the better for you, if what you assert be true, " said theabbe; "for I am firmly persuaded that, sooner or later, the good will berewarded, and the wicked punished. "

"Such words as those belong to your profession, " answered Caderousse, "and you do well to repeat them; but, " added he, with a bitterexpression of countenance, "one is free to believe them or not, as onepleases. "

"You are wrong to speak thus, " said the abbe; "and perhaps I may, in myown person, be able to prove to you how completely you are in error. "

"What mean you?" inquired Caderousse with a look of surprise.

"In the first place, I must be satisfied that you are the person I am insearch of. "

"What proofs do you require?"

"Did you, in the year 1814 or 1815, know anything of a young sailornamed Dantes?"

"Dantes? Did I know poor dear Edmond? Why, Edmond Dantes and myselfwere intimate friends!" exclaimed Caderousse, whose countenance flusheddarkly as he caught the penetrating gaze of the abbe fixed on him, whilethe clear, calm eye of the questioner seemed to dilate with feverishscrutiny.

"You remind me, " said the priest, "that the young man concerning whom Iasked you was said to bear the name of Edmond. "

"Said to bear the name!" repeated Caderousse, becoming excited andeager. "Why, he was so called as truly as I myself bore the appellationof Gaspard Caderousse; but tell me, I pray, what has become of poorEdmond? Did you know him? Is he alive and at liberty? Is he prosperousand happy?"

"He died a more wretched, hopeless, heart-broken prisoner than thefelons who pay the penalty of their crimes at the galleys of Toulon. "

A deadly pallor followed the flush on the countenance of Caderousse, whoturned away, and the priest saw him wiping the tears from his eyes withthe corner of the red handkerchief twisted round his head.

"Poor fellow, poor fellow!" murmured Caderousse. "Well, there, sir, isanother proof that good people are never rewarded on this earth, andthat none but the wicked prosper. Ah, " continued Caderousse, speakingin the highly colored language of the south, "the world grows worse andworse. Why does not God, if he really hates the wicked, as he is said todo, send down brimstone and fire, and consume them altogether?"

"You speak as though you had loved this young Dantes, " observed theabbe, without taking any notice of his companion's vehemence.

"And so I did, " replied Caderousse; "though once, I confess, I enviedhim his good fortune. But I swear to you, sir, I swear to you, byeverything a man holds dear, I have, since then, deeply and sincerelylamented his unhappy fate. " There was a brief silence, during whichthe fixed, searching eye of the abbe was employed in scrutinizing theagitated features of the inn-keeper.

"You knew the poor lad, then?" continued Caderousse.

"I was called to see him on his dying bed, that I might administer tohim the consolations of religion. "

"And of what did he die?" asked Caderousse in a choking voice.

"Of what, think you, do young and strong men die in prison, whenthey have scarcely numbered their thirtieth year, unless it be ofimprisonment?" Caderousse wiped away the large beads of perspirationthat gathered on his brow.

"But the strangest part of the story is, " resumed the abbe, "thatDantes, even in his dying moments, swore by his crucified Redeemer, thathe was utterly ignorant of the cause of his detention. "

"And so he was, " murmured Caderousse. "How should he have beenotherwise? Ah, sir, the poor fellow told you the truth. "

"And for that reason, he besought me to try and clear up a mystery hehad never been able to penetrate, and to clear his memory should anyfoul spot or stain have fallen on it. "

And here the look of the abbe, becoming more and more fixed, seemed torest with ill-concealed satisfaction on the gloomy depression which wasrapidly spreading over the countenance of Caderousse.

"A rich Englishman, " continued the abbe, "who had been his companionin misfortune, but had been released from prison during the secondrestoration, was possessed of a diamond of immense value; this jewel hebestowed on Dantes upon himself quitting the prison, as a mark of hisgratitude for the kindness and brotherly care with which Dantes hadnursed him in a severe illness he underwent during his confinement. Instead of employing this diamond in attempting to bribe his jailers, who might only have taken it and then betrayed him to the governor, Dantes carefully preserved it, that in the event of his getting out ofprison he might have wherewithal to live, for the sale of such a diamondwould have quite sufficed to make his fortune. "

"Then, I suppose, " asked Caderousse, with eager, glowing looks, "that itwas a stone of immense value?"

"Why, everything is relative, " answered the abbe. "To one in Edmond'sposition the diamond certainly was of great value. It was estimated atfifty thousand francs. "

"Bless me!" exclaimed Caderousse, "fifty thousand francs! Surely thediamond was as large as a nut to be worth all that. "

"No, " replied the abbe, "it was not of such a size as that; but youshall judge for yourself. I have it with me. "

The sharp gaze of Caderousse was instantly directed towards the priest'sgarments, as though hoping to discover the location of the treasure. Calmly drawing forth from his pocket a small box covered with blackshagreen, the abbe opened it, and displayed to the dazzled eyes ofCaderousse the sparkling jewel it contained, set in a ring of admirableworkmanship. "And that diamond, " cried Caderousse, almost breathlesswith eager admiration, "you say, is worth fifty thousand francs?"

"It is, without the setting, which is also valuable, " replied the abbe, as he closed the box, and returned it to his pocket, while its brillianthues seemed still to dance before the eyes of the fascinated inn-keeper.

"But how comes the diamond in your possession, sir? Did Edmond make youhis heir?"

"No, merely his testamentary executor. 'I once possessed four dear andfaithful friends, besides the maiden to whom I was betrothed' he said;'and I feel convinced they have all unfeignedly grieved over my loss. The name of one of the four friends is Caderousse. '" The inn-keepershivered.

"'Another of the number, '" continued the abbe, without seeming to noticethe emotion of Caderousse, "'is called Danglars; and the third, in spiteof being my rival, entertained a very sincere affection for me. '" Afiendish smile played over the features of Caderousse, who was about tobreak in upon the abbe's speech, when the latter, waving his hand, said, "Allow me to finish first, and then if you have any observations tomake, you can do so afterwards. 'The third of my friends, althoughmy rival, was much attached to me, --his name was Fernand; that of mybetrothed was'--Stay, stay, " continued the abbe, "I have forgotten whathe called her. "

"Mercedes, " said Caderousse eagerly.

"True, " said the abbe, with a stifled sigh, "Mercedes it was. "

"Go on, " urged Caderousse.

"Bring me a carafe of water, " said the abbe.

Caderousse quickly performed the stranger's bidding; and after pouringsome into a glass, and slowly swallowing its contents, the abbe, resuming his usual placidity of manner, said, as he placed his emptyglass on the table, --"Where did we leave off?"

"The name of Edmond's betrothed was Mercedes. "

"To be sure. 'You will go to Marseilles, ' said Dantes, --for youunderstand, I repeat his words just as he uttered them. Do youunderstand?"

"Perfectly. "

"'You will sell this diamond; you will divide the money into five equalparts, and give an equal portion to these good friends, the only personswho have loved me upon earth. '"

"But why into five parts?" asked Caderousse; "you only mentioned fourpersons. "

"Because the fifth is dead, as I hear. The fifth sharer in Edmond'sbequest, was his own father. "

"Too true, too true!" ejaculated Caderousse, almost suffocated by thecontending passions which assailed him, "the poor old man did die. "

"I learned so much at Marseilles, " replied the abbe, making a strongeffort to appear indifferent; "but from the length of time that haselapsed since the death of the elder Dantes, I was unable to obtain anyparticulars of his end. Can you enlighten me on that point?"

"I do not know who could if I could not, " said Caderousse. "Why, I livedalmost on the same floor with the poor old man. Ah, yes, about a yearafter the disappearance of his son the poor old man died. "

"Of what did he die?"

"Why, the doctors called his complaint gastro-enteritis, I believe;his acquaintances say he died of grief; but I, who saw him in his dyingmoments, I say he died of"--Caderousse paused.

"Of what?" asked the priest, anxiously and eagerly.

"Why, of downright starvation. "

"Starvation!" exclaimed the abbe, springing from his seat. "Why, thevilest animals are not suffered to die by such a death as that. The verydogs that wander houseless and homeless in the streets find some pityinghand to cast them a mouthful of bread; and that a man, a Christian, should be allowed to perish of hunger in the midst of other men whocall themselves Christians, is too horrible for belief. Oh, it isimpossible--utterly impossible!"

"What I have said, I have said, " answered Caderousse.

"And you are a fool for having said anything about it, " said a voicefrom the top of the stairs. "Why should you meddle with what does notconcern you?"

The two men turned quickly, and saw the sickly countenance of LaCarconte peering between the baluster rails; attracted by the sound ofvoices, she had feebly dragged herself down the stairs, and, seatedon the lower step, head on knees, she had listened to the foregoingconversation. "Mind your own business, wife, " replied Caderoussesharply. "This gentleman asks me for information, which commonpoliteness will not permit me to refuse. "

"Politeness, you simpleton!" retorted La Carconte. "What have you todo with politeness, I should like to know? Better study a little commonprudence. How do you know the motives that person may have for trying toextract all he can from you?"

"I pledge you my word, madam, " said the abbe, "that my intentions aregood; and that you husband can incur no risk, provided he answers mecandidly. "

"Ah, that's all very fine, " retorted the woman. "Nothing is easier thanto begin with fair promises and assurances of nothing to fear; but whenpoor, silly folks, like my husband there, have been persuaded totell all they know, the promises and assurances of safety are quicklyforgotten; and at some moment when nobody is expecting it, beholdtrouble and misery, and all sorts of persecutions, are heaped on theunfortunate wretches, who cannot even see whence all their afflictionscome. "

"Nay, nay, my good woman, make yourself perfectly easy, I beg ofyou. Whatever evils may befall you, they will not be occasioned by myinstrumentality, that I solemnly promise you. "

La Carconte muttered a few inarticulate words, then let her head againdrop upon her knees, and went into a fit of ague, leaving the twospeakers to resume the conversation, but remaining so as to be able tohear every word they uttered. Again the abbe had been obliged to swallowa draught of water to calm the emotions that threatened to overpowerhim. When he had sufficiently recovered himself, he said, "It appears, then, that the miserable old man you were telling me of was forsakenby every one. Surely, had not such been the case, he would not haveperished by so dreadful a death. "

"Why, he was not altogether forsaken, " continued Caderousse, "forMercedes the Catalan and Monsieur Morrel were very kind to him;but somehow the poor old man had contracted a profound hatred forFernand--the very person, " added Caderousse with a bitter smile, "that you named just now as being one of Dantes' faithful and attachedfriends. "

"And was he not so?" asked the abbe.

"Gaspard, Gaspard!" murmured the woman, from her seat on the stairs, "mind what you are saying!" Caderousse made no reply to these words, though evidently irritated and annoyed by the interruption, but, addressing the abbe, said, "Can a man be faithful to another whose wifehe covets and desires for himself? But Dantes was so honorable andtrue in his own nature, that he believed everybody's professions offriendship. Poor Edmond, he was cruelly deceived; but it was fortunatethat he never knew, or he might have found it more difficult, when onhis deathbed, to pardon his enemies. And, whatever people may say, "continued Caderousse, in his native language, which was not altogetherdevoid of rude poetry, "I cannot help being more frightened at the ideaof the malediction of the dead than the hatred of the living. "

"Imbecile!" exclaimed La Carconte.

"Do you, then, know in what manner Fernand injured Dantes?" inquired theabbe of Caderousse.

"Do I? No one better. "

"Speak out then, say what it was!"

"Gaspard!" cried La Carconte, "do as you will; you are master--but ifyou take my advice you'll hold your tongue. "

"Well, wife, " replied Caderousse, "I don't know but what you're right!"

"So you will say nothing?" asked the abbe.

"Why, what good would it do?" asked Caderousse. "If the poor lad wereliving, and came to me and begged that I would candidly tell whichwere his true and which his false friends, why, perhaps, I should nothesitate. But you tell me he is no more, and therefore can have nothingto do with hatred or revenge, so let all such feeling be buried withhim. "

"You prefer, then, " said the abbe, "that I should bestow on men you sayare false and treacherous, the reward intended for faithful friendship?"

"That is true enough, " returned Caderousse. "You say truly, the giftof poor Edmond was not meant for such traitors as Fernand and Danglars;besides, what would it be to them? no more than a drop of water in theocean. "

"Remember, " chimed in La Carconte, "those two could crush you at asingle blow!"

"How so?" inquired the abbe. "Are these persons, then, so rich andpowerful?"

"Do you not know their history?"

"I do not. Pray relate it to me!" Caderousse seemed to reflect for a fewmoments, then said, "No, truly, it would take up too much time. "

"Well, my good friend, " returned the abbe, in a tone that indicatedutter indifference on his part, "you are at liberty, either to speak orbe silent, just as you please; for my own part, I respect your scruplesand admire your sentiments; so let the matter end. I shall do my dutyas conscientiously as I can, and fulfil my promise to the dying man. Myfirst business will be to dispose of this diamond. " So saying, the abbeagain draw the small box from his pocket, opened it, and contrived tohold it in such a light, that a bright flash of brilliant hues passedbefore the dazzled gaze of Caderousse.

"Wife, wife!" cried he in a hoarse voice, "come here!"

"Diamond!" exclaimed La Carconte, rising and descending to the chamberwith a tolerably firm step; "what diamond are you talking about?"

"Why, did you not hear all we said?" inquired Caderousse. "It is abeautiful diamond left by poor Edmond Dantes, to be sold, and the moneydivided between his father, Mercedes, his betrothed bride, Fernand, Danglars, and myself. The jewel is worth at least fifty thousandfrancs. "

"Oh, what a magnificent jewel!" cried the astonished woman.

"The fifth part of the profits from this stone belongs to us then, doesit not?" asked Caderousse.

"It does, " replied the abbe; "with the addition of an equal divisionof that part intended for the elder Dantes, which I believe myself atliberty to divide equally with the four survivors. "

"And why among us four?" inquired Caderousse.

"As being the friends Edmond esteemed most faithful and devoted to him. "

"I don't call those friends who betray and ruin you, " murmured the wifein her turn, in a low, muttering voice.

"Of course not!" rejoined Caderousse quickly; "no more do I, and thatwas what I was observing to this gentleman just now. I said I lookedupon it as a sacrilegious profanation to reward treachery, perhapscrime. "

"Remember, " answered the abbe calmly, as he replaced the jewel and itscase in the pocket of his cassock, "it is your fault, not mine, that Ido so. You will have the goodness to furnish me with the address of bothFernand and Danglars, in order that I may execute Edmond's lastwishes. " The agitation of Caderousse became extreme, and large drops ofperspiration rolled from his heated brow. As he saw the abbe rise fromhis seat and go towards the door, as though to ascertain if his horsewere sufficiently refreshed to continue his journey, Caderousse and hiswife exchanged looks of deep meaning.

"There, you see, wife, " said the former, "this splendid diamond mightall be ours, if we chose!"

"Do you believe it?"

"Why, surely a man of his holy profession would not deceive us!"

"Well, " replied La Carconte, "do as you like. For my part, I wash myhands of the affair. " So saying, she once more climbed the staircaseleading to her chamber, her body convulsed with chills, and her teethrattling in her head, in spite of the intense heat of the weather. Arrived at the top stair, she turned round, and called out, in a warningtone, to her husband, "Gaspard, consider well what you are about to do!"

"I have both reflected and decided, " answered he. La Carconte thenentered her chamber, the flooring of which creaked beneath her heavy, uncertain tread, as she proceeded towards her arm-chair, into which shefell as though exhausted.

"Well, " asked the abbe, as he returned to the apartment below, "whathave you made up your mind to do?"

"To tell you all I know, " was the reply.

"I certainly think you act wisely in so doing, " said the priest. "Notbecause I have the least desire to learn anything you may please toconceal from me, but simply that if, through your assistance, I coulddistribute the legacy according to the wishes of the testator, why, somuch the better, that is all. "

"I hope it may be so, " replied Caderousse, his face flushed withcupidity.

"I am all attention, " said the abbe.

"Stop a minute, " answered Caderousse; "we might be interrupted in themost interesting part of my story, which would be a pity; and it is aswell that your visit hither should be made known only to ourselves. "With these words he went stealthily to the door, which he closed, and, by way of still greater precaution, bolted and barred it, as he wasaccustomed to do at night. During this time the abbe had chosen hisplace for listening at his ease. He removed his seat into a corner ofthe room, where he himself would be in deep shadow, while the lightwould be fully thrown on the narrator; then, with head bent down andhands clasped, or rather clinched together, he prepared to give hiswhole attention to Caderousse, who seated himself on the little stool, exactly opposite to him.

"Remember, this is no affair of mine, " said the trembling voice of LaCarconte, as though through the flooring of her chamber she viewed thescene that was enacting below.

"Enough, enough!" replied Caderousse; "say no more about it; I will takeall the consequences upon myself. " And he began his story.

Chapter 27. The Story.

"First, sir, " said Caderousse, "you must make me a promise. "

"What is that?" inquired the abbe.

"Why, if you ever make use of the details I am about to give you, thatyou will never let any one know that it was I who supplied them; for thepersons of whom I am about to talk are rich and powerful, and if theyonly laid the tips of their fingers on me, I should break to pieces likeglass. "

"Make yourself easy, my friend, " replied the abbe. "I am a priest, andconfessions die in my breast. Recollect, our only desire is to carryout, in a fitting manner, the last wishes of our friend. Speak, then, without reserve, as without hatred; tell the truth, the whole truth; Ido not know, never may know, the persons of whom you are about to speak;besides, I am an Italian, and not a Frenchman, and belong to God, andnot to man, and I shall shortly retire to my convent, which I haveonly quitted to fulfil the last wishes of a dying man. " This positiveassurance seemed to give Caderousse a little courage.

"Well, then, under these circumstances, " said Caderousse, "I will, Ieven believe I ought to undeceive you as to the friendship which poorEdmond thought so sincere and unquestionable. "

"Begin with his father, if you please. " said the abbe; "Edmond talked tome a great deal about the old man for whom he had the deepest love. "

"The history is a sad one, sir, " said Caderousse, shaking his head;"perhaps you know all the earlier part of it?"

"Yes. " answered the abbe; "Edmond related to me everything until themoment when he was arrested in a small cabaret close to Marseilles. "

"At La Reserve! Oh, yes; I can see it all before me this moment. "

"Was it not his betrothal feast?"

"It was and the feast that began so gayly had a very sorrowful ending;a police commissary, followed by four soldiers, entered, and Dantes wasarrested. "

"Yes, and up to this point I know all, " said the priest. "Dantes himselfonly knew that which personally concerned him, for he never beheld againthe five persons I have named to you, or heard mention of any one ofthem. "

"Well, when Dantes was arrested, Monsieur Morrel hastened to obtain theparticulars, and they were very sad. The old man returned alone to hishome, folded up his wedding suit with tears in his eyes, and paced upand down his chamber the whole day, and would not go to bed at all, for I was underneath him and heard him walking the whole night; and formyself, I assure you I could not sleep either, for the grief of the poorfather gave me great uneasiness, and every step he took went to my heartas really as if his foot had pressed against my breast. The next dayMercedes came to implore the protection of M. De Villefort; she did notobtain it, however, and went to visit the old man; when she saw him somiserable and heart-broken, having passed a sleepless night, and nottouched food since the previous day, she wished him to go with her thatshe might take care of him; but the old man would not consent. 'No, ' wasthe old man's reply, 'I will not leave this house, for my poor dear boyloves me better than anything in the world; and if he gets out of prisonhe will come and see me the first thing, and what would he think if Idid not wait here for him?' I heard all this from the window, for I wasanxious that Mercedes should persuade the old man to accompany her, forhis footsteps over my head night and day did not leave me a moment'srepose. "

"But did you not go up-stairs and try to console the poor old man?"asked the abbe.

"Ah, sir, " replied Caderousse, "we cannot console those who will notbe consoled, and he was one of these; besides, I know not why, but heseemed to dislike seeing me. One night, however, I heard his sobs, and Icould not resist my desire to go up to him, but when I reached his doorhe was no longer weeping but praying. I cannot now repeat to you, sir, all the eloquent words and imploring language he made use of; it wasmore than piety, it was more than grief, and I, who am no canter, andhate the Jesuits, said then to myself, 'It is really well, and I am veryglad that I have not any children; for if I were a father and felt suchexcessive grief as the old man does, and did not find in my memory orheart all he is now saying, I should throw myself into the sea at once, for I could not bear it. '"

"Poor father!" murmured the priest.

"From day to day he lived on alone, and more and more solitary. M. Morrel and Mercedes came to see him, but his door was closed; and, although I was certain he was at home, he would not make any answer. One day, when, contrary to his custom, he had admitted Mercedes, and thepoor girl, in spite of her own grief and despair, endeavored to consolehim, he said to her, --'Be assured, my dear daughter, he is dead; andinstead of expecting him, it is he who is awaiting us; I am quite happy, for I am the oldest, and of course shall see him first. ' However welldisposed a person may be, why you see we leave off after a time seeingpersons who are in sorrow, they make one melancholy; and so at lastold Dantes was left all to himself, and I only saw from time to timestrangers go up to him and come down again with some bundle they triedto hide; but I guessed what these bundles were, and that he sold bydegrees what he had to pay for his subsistence. At length the poor oldfellow reached the end of all he had; he owed three quarters' rent, andthey threatened to turn him out; he begged for another week, which wasgranted to him. I know this, because the landlord came into my apartmentwhen he left his. For the first three days I heard him walking about asusual, but, on the fourth I heard nothing. I then resolved to go up tohim at all risks. The door was closed, but I looked through the keyhole, and saw him so pale and haggard, that believing him very ill, I went andtold M. Morrel and then ran on to Mercedes. They both came immediately, M. Morrel bringing a doctor, and the doctor said it was inflammationof the bowels, and ordered him a limited diet. I was there, too, and Inever shall forget the old man's smile at this prescription. From thattime he received all who came; he had an excuse for not eating any more;the doctor had put him on a diet. " The abbe uttered a kind of groan. "The story interests you, does it not, sir?" inquired Caderousse.

"Yes, " replied the abbe, "it is very affecting. "

"Mercedes came again, and she found him so altered that she was evenmore anxious than before to have him taken to her own home. This was M. Morrel's wish also, who would fain have conveyed the old man against hisconsent; but the old man resisted, and cried so that they were actuallyfrightened. Mercedes remained, therefore, by his bedside, and M. Morrelwent away, making a sign to the Catalan that he had left his purse onthe chimney-piece. But availing himself of the doctor's order, the oldman would not take any sustenance; at length (after nine days of despairand fasting), the old man died, cursing those who had caused his misery, and saying to Mercedes, 'If you ever see my Edmond again, tell him I dieblessing him. '" The abbe rose from his chair, made two turns round thechamber, and pressed his trembling hand against his parched throat. "Andyou believe he died"--

"Of hunger, sir, of hunger, " said Caderousse. "I am as certain of it asthat we two are Christians. "

The abbe, with a shaking hand, seized a glass of water that was standingby him half-full, swallowed it at one gulp, and then resumed his seat, with red eyes and pale cheeks. "This was, indeed, a horrid event. " saidhe in a hoarse voice.

"The more so, sir, as it was men's and not God's doing. "

"Tell me of those men, " said the abbe, "and remember too, " he added inan almost menacing tone, "you have promised to tell me everything. Tellme, therefore, who are these men who killed the son with despair, andthe father with famine?"

"Two men jealous of him, sir; one from love, and the other fromambition, --Fernand and Danglars. "

"How was this jealousy manifested? Speak on. "

"They denounced Edmond as a Bonapartist agent. "

"Which of the two denounced him? Which was the real delinquent?"

"Both, sir; one with a letter, and the other put it in the post. "

"And where was this letter written?"

"At La Reserve, the day before the betrothal feast. "

"'Twas so, then--'twas so, then, " murmured the abbe. "Oh, Faria, Faria, how well did you judge men and things!"

"What did you please to say, sir?" asked Caderousse.

"Nothing, nothing, " replied the priest; "go on. "

"It was Danglars who wrote the denunciation with his left hand, that hiswriting might not be recognized, and Fernand who put it in the post. "

"But, " exclaimed the abbe suddenly, "you were there yourself. "

"I!" said Caderousse, astonished; "who told you I was there?"

The abbe saw he had overshot the mark, and he added quickly, --"No one;but in order to have known everything so well, you must have been aneye-witness. "

"True, true!" said Caderousse in a choking voice, "I was there. "

"And did you not remonstrate against such infamy?" asked the abbe; "ifnot, you were an accomplice. "

"Sir, " replied Caderousse, "they had made me drink to such anexcess that I nearly lost all perception. I had only an indistinctunderstanding of what was passing around me. I said all that a man insuch a state could say; but they both assured me that it was a jest theywere carrying on, and perfectly harmless. "

"Next day--next day, sir, you must have seen plain enough what they hadbeen doing, yet you said nothing, though you were present when Danteswas arrested. "

"Yes, sir, I was there, and very anxious to speak; but Danglarsrestrained me. 'If he should really be guilty, ' said he, 'and did reallyput in to the Island of Elba; if he is really charged with a letter forthe Bonapartist committee at Paris, and if they find this letter uponhim, those who have supported him will pass for his accomplices. ' Iconfess I had my fears, in the state in which politics then were, and Iheld my tongue. It was cowardly, I confess, but it was not criminal. "

"I understand--you allowed matters to take their course, that was all. "

"Yes, sir, " answered Caderousse; "and remorse preys on me night and day. I often ask pardon of God, I swear to you, because this action, the onlyone with which I have seriously to reproach myself in all my life, isno doubt the cause of my abject condition. I am expiating a moment ofselfishness, and so I always say to La Carconte, when she complains, 'Hold your tongue, woman; it is the will of God. '" And Caderousse bowedhis head with every sign of real repentance.

"Well, sir, " said the abbe, "you have spoken unreservedly; and thus toaccuse yourself is to deserve pardon. "

"Unfortunately, Edmond is dead, and has not pardoned me. "

"He did not know, " said the abbe.

"But he knows it all now, " interrupted Caderousse; "they say the deadknow everything. " There was a brief silence; the abbe rose and paced upand down pensively, and then resumed his seat. "You have two or threetimes mentioned a M. Morrel, " he said; "who was he?"

"The owner of the Pharaon and patron of Dantes. "

"And what part did he play in this sad drama?" inquired the abbe.

"The part of an honest man, full of courage and real regard. Twentytimes he interceded for Edmond. When the emperor returned, he wrote, implored, threatened, and so energetically, that on the secondrestoration he was persecuted as a Bonapartist. Ten times, as I toldyou, he came to see Dantes' father, and offered to receive him in hisown house; and the night or two before his death, as I have alreadysaid, he left his purse on the mantelpiece, with which they paid the oldman's debts, and buried him decently; and so Edmond's father died, ashe had lived, without doing harm to any one. I have the purse still byme--a large one, made of red silk. "

"And, " asked the abbe, "is M. Morrel still alive?"

"Yes, " replied Caderousse.

"In that case, " replied the abbe, "he should be rich, happy. "

Caderousse smiled bitterly. "Yes, happy as myself, " said he.

"What! M. Morrel unhappy?" exclaimed the abbe.

"He is reduced almost to the last extremity--nay, he is almost at thepoint of dishonor. "

"How?"

"Yes, " continued Caderousse, "so it is; after five and twenty yearsof labor, after having acquired a most honorable name in the trade ofMarseilles, M. Morrel is utterly ruined; he has lost five ships in twoyears, has suffered by the bankruptcy of three large houses, and hisonly hope now is in that very Pharaon which poor Dantes commanded, andwhich is expected from the Indies with a cargo of cochineal and indigo. If this ship founders, like the others, he is a ruined man. "

"And has the unfortunate man wife or children?" inquired the abbe.

"Yes, he has a wife, who through everything has behaved like an angel;he has a daughter, who was about to marry the man she loved, but whosefamily now will not allow him to wed the daughter of a ruined man; hehas, besides, a son, a lieutenant in the army; and, as you may suppose, all this, instead of lessening, only augments his sorrows. If he werealone in the world he would blow out his brains, and there would be anend. "

"Horrible!" ejaculated the priest.

"And it is thus heaven recompenses virtue, sir, " added Caderousse. "Yousee, I, who never did a bad action but that I have told you of--am indestitution, with my poor wife dying of fever before my very eyes, andI unable to do anything in the world for her; I shall die of hunger, asold Dantes did, while Fernand and Danglars are rolling in wealth. "

"How is that?"

"Because their deeds have brought them good fortune, while honest menhave been reduced to misery. "

"What has become of Danglars, the instigator, and therefore the mostguilty?"

"What has become of him? Why, he left Marseilles, and was taken, on therecommendation of M. Morrel, who did not know his crime, as cashierinto a Spanish bank. During the war with Spain he was employed in thecommissariat of the French army, and made a fortune; then with thatmoney he speculated in the funds, and trebled or quadrupled his capital;and, having first married his banker's daughter, who left him a widower, he has married a second time, a widow, a Madame de Nargonne, daughter ofM. De Servieux, the king's chamberlain, who is in high favor at court. He is a millionaire, and they have made him a baron, and now he is theBaron Danglars, with a fine residence in the Rue de Mont-Blanc, with tenhorses in his stables, six footmen in his ante-chamber, and I know nothow many millions in his strongbox. "

"Ah!" said the abbe, in a peculiar tone, "he is happy. "

"Happy? Who can answer for that? Happiness or unhappiness is the secretknown but to one's self and the walls--walls have ears but no tongue;but if a large fortune produces happiness, Danglars is happy. "

"And Fernand?"

"Fernand? Why, much the same story. "

"But how could a poor Catalan fisher-boy, without education orresources, make a fortune? I confess this staggers me. "

"And it has staggered everybody. There must have been in his life somestrange secret that no one knows. "

"But, then, by what visible steps has he attained this high fortune orhigh position?"

"Both, sir--he has both fortune and position--both. "

"This must be impossible!"

"It would seem so; but listen, and you will understand. Some days beforethe return of the emperor, Fernand was drafted. The Bourbons left himquietly enough at the Catalans, but Napoleon returned, a special levywas made, and Fernand was compelled to join. I went too; but as I wasolder than Fernand, and had just married my poor wife, I was only sentto the coast. Fernand was enrolled in the active troop, went to thefrontier with his regiment, and was at the battle of Ligny. The nightafter that battle he was sentry at the door of a general who carried ona secret correspondence with the enemy. That same night the generalwas to go over to the English. He proposed to Fernand to accompany him;Fernand agreed to do so, deserted his post, and followed the general. Fernand would have been court-martialed if Napoleon had remained onthe throne, but his action was rewarded by the Bourbons. He returned toFrance with the epaulet of sub-lieutenant, and as the protection ofthe general, who is in the highest favor, was accorded to him, he wasa captain in 1823, during the Spanish war--that is to say, at the timewhen Danglars made his early speculations. Fernand was a Spaniard, andbeing sent to Spain to ascertain the feeling of his fellow-countrymen, found Danglars there, got on very intimate terms with him, won over thesupport of the royalists at the capital and in the provinces, receivedpromises and made pledges on his own part, guided his regiment by pathsknown to himself alone through the mountain gorges which were heldby the royalists, and, in fact, rendered such services in this briefcampaign that, after the taking of Trocadero, he was made colonel, andreceived the title of count and the cross of an officer of the Legion ofHonor. "

"Destiny! destiny!" murmured the abbe.

"Yes, but listen: this was not all. The war with Spain being ended, Fernand's career was checked by the long peace which seemed likely toendure throughout Europe. Greece only had risen against Turkey, and hadbegun her war of independence; all eyes were turned towards Athens--itwas the fashion to pity and support the Greeks. The French government, without protecting them openly, as you know, gave countenance tovolunteer assistance. Fernand sought and obtained leave to go and servein Greece, still having his name kept on the army roll. Some time after, it was stated that the Comte de Morcerf (this was the name he bore) hadentered the service of Ali Pasha with the rank of instructor-general. Ali Pasha was killed, as you know, but before he died he recompensedthe services of Fernand by leaving him a considerable sum, with which hereturned to France, when he was gazetted lieutenant-general. "

"So that now?"--inquired the abbe.

"So that now, " continued Caderousse, "he owns a magnificent house--No. 27, Rue du Helder, Paris. " The abbe opened his mouth, hesitated fora moment, then, making an effort at self-control, he said, "AndMercedes--they tell me that she has disappeared?"

"Disappeared, " said Caderousse, "yes, as the sun disappears, to rise thenext day with still more splendor. "

"Has she made a fortune also?" inquired the abbe, with an ironicalsmile.

"Mercedes is at this moment one of the greatest ladies in Paris, "replied Caderousse.

"Go on, " said the abbe; "it seems as if I were listening to the story ofa dream. But I have seen things so extraordinary, that what you tell meseems less astonishing than it otherwise might. "

"Mercedes was at first in the deepest despair at the blow which deprivedher of Edmond. I have told you of her attempts to propitiate M. DeVillefort, her devotion to the elder Dantes. In the midst of herdespair, a new affliction overtook her. This was the departure ofFernand--of Fernand, whose crime she did not know, and whom she regardedas her brother. Fernand went, and Mercedes remained alone. Three monthspassed and still she wept--no news of Edmond, no news of Fernand, nocompanionship save that of an old man who was dying with despair. Oneevening, after a day of accustomed vigil at the angle of two roadsleading to Marseilles from the Catalans, she returned to her homemore depressed than ever. Suddenly she heard a step she knew, turnedanxiously around, the door opened, and Fernand, dressed in the uniformof a sub-lieutenant, stood before her. It was not the one she wished formost, but it seemed as if a part of her past life had returned to her. Mercedes seized Fernand's hands with a transport which he took for love, but which was only joy at being no longer alone in the world, and seeingat last a friend, after long hours of solitary sorrow. And then, it mustbe confessed, Fernand had never been hated--he was only not preciselyloved. Another possessed all Mercedes' heart; that other was absent, haddisappeared, perhaps was dead. At this last thought Mercedes burst intoa flood of tears, and wrung her hands in agony; but the thought, whichshe had always repelled before when it was suggested to her by another, came now in full force upon her mind; and then, too, old Dantesincessantly said to her, 'Our Edmond is dead; if he were not, he wouldreturn to us. ' The old man died, as I have told you; had he lived, Mercedes, perchance, had not become the wife of another, for he wouldhave been there to reproach her infidelity. Fernand saw this, and whenhe learned of the old man's death he returned. He was now a lieutenant. At his first coming he had not said a word of love to Mercedes; at thesecond he reminded her that he loved her. Mercedes begged for six monthsmore in which to await and mourn for Edmond. "

"So that, " said the abbe, with a bitter smile, "that makes eighteenmonths in all. What more could the most devoted lover desire?" Then hemurmured the words of the English poet, "'Frailty, thy name is woman. '"

"Six months afterwards, " continued Caderousse, "the marriage took placein the church of Accoules. "

"The very church in which she was to have married Edmond, " murmured thepriest; "there was only a change of bride-grooms. "

"Well, Mercedes was married, " proceeded Caderousse; "but although in theeyes of the world she appeared calm, she nearly fainted as she passedLa Reserve, where, eighteen months before, the betrothal had beencelebrated with him whom she might have known she still loved had shelooked to the bottom of her heart. Fernand, more happy, but not more athis ease--for I saw at this time he was in constant dread of Edmond'sreturn--Fernand was very anxious to get his wife away, and to departhimself. There were too many unpleasant possibilities associated withthe Catalans, and eight days after the wedding they left Marseilles. "

"Did you ever see Mercedes again?" inquired the priest.

"Yes, during the Spanish war, at Perpignan, where Fernand had left her;she was attending to the education of her son. " The abbe started. "Herson?" said he.

"Yes, " replied Caderousse, "little Albert. "

"But, then, to be able to instruct her child, " continued the abbe, "shemust have received an education herself. I understood from Edmond thatshe was the daughter of a simple fisherman, beautiful but uneducated. "

"Oh, " replied Caderousse, "did he know so little of his lovelybetrothed? Mercedes might have been a queen, sir, if the crown were tobe placed on the heads of the loveliest and most intelligent. Fernand'sfortune was already waxing great, and she developed with his growingfortune. She learned drawing, music--everything. Besides, I believe, between ourselves, she did this in order to distract her mind, that shemight forget; and she only filled her head in order to alleviate theweight on her heart. But now her position in life is assured, " continuedCaderousse; "no doubt fortune and honors have comforted her; she isrich, a countess, and yet"--Caderousse paused.

"And yet what?" asked the abbe.

"Yet, I am sure, she is not happy, " said Caderousse.

"What makes you believe this?"

"Why, when I found myself utterly destitute, I thought my old friendswould, perhaps, assist me. So I went to Danglars, who would not evenreceive me. I called on Fernand, who sent me a hundred francs by hisvalet-de-chambre. "

"Then you did not see either of them?"

"No, but Madame de Morcerf saw me. "

"How was that?"

"As I went away a purse fell at my feet--it contained five and twentylouis; I raised my head quickly, and saw Mercedes, who at once shut theblind. "

"And M. De Villefort?" asked the abbe.

"Oh, he never was a friend of mine, I did not know him, and I hadnothing to ask of him. "

"Do you not know what became of him, and the share he had in Edmond'smisfortunes?"

"No; I only know that some time after Edmond's arrest, he marriedMademoiselle de Saint-Meran, and soon after left Marseilles; no doubthe has been as lucky as the rest; no doubt he is as rich as Danglars, as high in station as Fernand. I only, as you see, have remained poor, wretched, and forgotten. "

"You are mistaken, my friend, " replied the abbe; "God may seem sometimesto forget for a time, while his justice reposes, but there always comesa moment when he remembers--and behold--a proof!" As he spoke, theabbe took the diamond from his pocket, and giving it to Caderousse, said, --"Here, my friend, take this diamond, it is yours. "

"What, for me only?" cried Caderousse, "ah, sir, do not jest with me!"

"This diamond was to have been shared among his friends. Edmond had onefriend only, and thus it cannot be divided. Take the diamond, then, andsell it; it is worth fifty thousand francs, and I repeat my wish thatthis sum may suffice to release you from your wretchedness. "

"Oh, sir, " said Caderousse, putting out one hand timidly, and with theother wiping away the perspiration which bedewed his brow, --"Oh, sir, donot make a jest of the happiness or despair of a man. "

"I know what happiness and what despair are, and I never make a jest ofsuch feelings. Take it, then, but in exchange--"

Caderousse, who touched the diamond, withdrew his hand. The abbe smiled. "In exchange, " he continued, "give me the red silk purse that M. Morrelleft on old Dantes' chimney-piece, and which you tell me is still inyour hands. " Caderousse, more and more astonished, went toward a largeoaken cupboard, opened it, and gave the abbe a long purse of faded redsilk, round which were two copper runners that had once been gilt. Theabbe took it, and in return gave Caderousse the diamond.

"Oh, you are a man of God, sir, " cried Caderousse; "for no one knew thatEdmond had given you this diamond, and you might have kept it. "

"Which, " said the abbe to himself, "you would have done. " The abberose, took his hat and gloves. "Well, " he said, "all you have told me isperfectly true, then, and I may believe it in every particular. "

"See, sir, " replied Caderousse, "in this corner is a crucifix in holywood--here on this shelf is my wife's testament; open this book, and Iwill swear upon it with my hand on the crucifix. I will swear to you bymy soul's salvation, my faith as a Christian, I have told everything toyou as it occurred, and as the recording angel will tell it to the earof God at the day of the last judgment!"

"'Tis well, " said the abbe, convinced by his manner and tone thatCaderousse spoke the truth. "'Tis well, and may this money profit you!Adieu; I go far from men who thus so bitterly injure each other. "The abbe with difficulty got away from the enthusiastic thanks ofCaderousse, opened the door himself, got out and mounted his horse, oncemore saluted the innkeeper, who kept uttering his loud farewells, andthen returned by the road he had travelled in coming. When Caderousseturned around, he saw behind him La Carconte, paler and trembling morethan ever. "Is, then, all that I have heard really true?" she inquired.

"What? That he has given the diamond to us only?" inquired Caderousse, half bewildered with joy; "yes, nothing more true! See, here it is. " Thewoman gazed at it a moment, and then said, in a gloomy voice, "Supposeit's false?" Caderousse started and turned pale. "False!" he muttered. "False! Why should that man give me a false diamond?"

"To get your secret without paying for it, you blockhead!"

Caderousse remained for a moment aghast under the weight of such anidea. "Oh!" he said, taking up his hat, which he placed on the redhandkerchief tied round his head, "we will soon find out. "

"In what way?"

"Why, the fair is on at Beaucaire, there are always jewellers from Paristhere, and I will show it to them. Look after the house, wife, and Ishall be back in two hours, " and Caderousse left the house in haste, and ran rapidly in the direction opposite to that which the priest hadtaken. "Fifty thousand francs!" muttered La Carconte when left alone;"it is a large sum of money, but it is not a fortune. "

Chapter 28. The Prison Register.

The day after that in which the scene we have just described had takenplace on the road between Bellegarde and Beaucaire, a man of aboutthirty or two and thirty, dressed in a bright blue frock coat, nankeentrousers, and a white waistcoat, having the appearance and accent ofan Englishman, presented himself before the mayor of Marseilles. "Sir, "said he, "I am chief clerk of the house of Thomson & French, of Rome. Weare, and have been these ten years, connected with the house of Morrel& Son, of Marseilles. We have a hundred thousand francs or thereaboutsloaned on their securities, and we are a little uneasy at reports thathave reached us that the firm is on the brink of ruin. I have come, therefore, express from Rome, to ask you for information. "

"Sir, " replied the mayor. "I know very well that during the last four orfive years misfortune has seemed to pursue M. Morrel. He has lost fouror five vessels, and suffered by three or four bankruptcies; but itis not for me, although I am a creditor myself to the amount often thousand francs, to give any information as to the state of hisfinances. Ask of me, as mayor, what is my opinion of M. Morrel, and Ishall say that he is a man honorable to the last degree, and who hasup to this time fulfilled every engagement with scrupulous punctuality. This is all I can say, sir; if you wish to learn more, address yourselfto M. De Boville, the inspector of prisons, No. 15, Rue de Nouailles;he has, I believe, two hundred thousand francs in Morrel's hands, and ifthere be any grounds for apprehension, as this is a greater amount thanmine, you will most probably find him better informed than myself. "

The Englishman seemed to appreciate this extreme delicacy, made his bowand went away, proceeding with a characteristic British stride towardsthe street mentioned. M. De Boville was in his private room, and theEnglishman, on perceiving him, made a gesture of surprise, which seemedto indicate that it was not the first time he had been in his presence. As to M. De Boville, he was in such a state of despair, that it wasevident all the faculties of his mind, absorbed in the thought whichoccupied him at the moment, did not allow either his memory or hisimagination to stray to the past. The Englishman, with the coolness ofhis nation, addressed him in terms nearly similar to those with whichhe had accosted the mayor of Marseilles. "Oh, sir, " exclaimed M. DeBoville, "your fears are unfortunately but too well founded, and you seebefore you a man in despair. I had two hundred thousand francs placedin the hands of Morrel & Son; these two hundred thousand francs were thedowry of my daughter, who was to be married in a fortnight, and thesetwo hundred thousand francs were payable, half on the 15th of thismonth, and the other half on the 15th of next month. I had informed M. Morrel of my desire to have these payments punctually, and he has beenhere within the last half-hour to tell me that if his ship, the Pharaon, did not come into port on the 15th, he would be wholly unable to makethis payment. "

"But, " said the Englishman, "this looks very much like a suspension ofpayment. "

"It looks more like bankruptcy!" exclaimed M. De Boville despairingly.

The Englishman appeared to reflect a moment, and then said, --"From whichit would appear, sir, that this credit inspires you with considerableapprehension?"

"To tell you the truth, I consider it lost. "

"Well, then, I will buy it of you!"

"You?"

"Yes, I!"

"But at a tremendous discount, of course?"

"No, for two hundred thousand francs. Our house, " added the Englishmanwith a laugh, "does not do things in that way. "

"And you will pay"--

"Ready money. " And the Englishman drew from his pocket a bundle ofbank-notes, which might have been twice the sum M. De Boville fearedto lose. A ray of joy passed across M. De Boville's countenance, yethe made an effort at self-control, and said, --"Sir, I ought to tellyou that, in all probability, you will not realize six per cent of thissum. "

"That's no affair of mine, " replied the Englishman, "that is the affairof the house of Thomson & French, in whose name I act. They have, perhaps, some motive to serve in hastening the ruin of a rival firm. But all I know, sir, is, that I am ready to hand you over this sum inexchange for your assignment of the debt. I only ask a brokerage. "

"Of course, that is perfectly just, " cried M. De Boville. "Thecommission is usually one and a half; will you have two--three--five percent, or even more? Whatever you say. "

"Sir, " replied the Englishman, laughing, "I am like my house, and do notdo such things--no, the commission I ask is quite different. "

"Name it, sir, I beg. "

"You are the inspector of prisons?"

"I have been so these fourteen years. "

"You keep the registers of entries and departures?"

"I do. "

"To these registers there are added notes relative to the prisoners?"

"There are special reports on every prisoner. "

"Well, sir, I was educated at home by a poor devil of an abbe, whodisappeared suddenly. I have since learned that he was confined in theChateau d'If, and I should like to learn some particulars of his death. "

"What was his name?"

"The Abbe Faria. "

"Oh, I recollect him perfectly, " cried M. De Boville; "he was crazy. "

"So they said. "

"Oh, he was, decidedly. "

"Very possibly; but what sort of madness was it?"

"He pretended to know of an immense treasure, and offered vast sums tothe government if they would liberate him. "

"Poor devil!--and he is dead?"

"Yes, sir, five or six months ago--last February. "

"You have a good memory, sir, to recollect dates so well. "

"I recollect this, because the poor devil's death was accompanied by asingular incident. "

"May I ask what that was?" said the Englishman with an expressionof curiosity, which a close observer would have been astonished atdiscovering in his phlegmatic countenance.

"Oh dear, yes, sir; the abbe's dungeon was forty or fifty feet distantfrom that of one of Bonaparte's emissaries, --one of those who hadcontributed the most to the return of the usurper in 1815, --a veryresolute and very dangerous man. "

"Indeed!" said the Englishman.

"Yes, " replied M. De Boville; "I myself had occasion to see this manin 1816 or 1817, and we could only go into his dungeon with a file ofsoldiers. That man made a deep impression on me; I shall never forgethis countenance!" The Englishman smiled imperceptibly.

"And you say, sir, " he interposed, "that the two dungeons"--

"Were separated by a distance of fifty feet; but it appears that thisEdmond Dantes"--

"This dangerous man's name was"--

"Edmond Dantes. It appears, sir, that this Edmond Dantes had procuredtools, or made them, for they found a tunnel through which the prisonersheld communication with one another. "

"This tunnel was dug, no doubt, with an intention of escape?"

"No doubt; but unfortunately for the prisoners, the Abbe Faria had anattack of catalepsy, and died. "

"That must have cut short the projects of escape. "

"For the dead man, yes, " replied M. De Boville, "but not for thesurvivor; on the contrary, this Dantes saw a means of accelerating hisescape. He, no doubt, thought that prisoners who died in the Chateaud'If were interred in an ordinary burial-ground, and he conveyed thedead man into his own cell, took his place in the sack in which they hadsewed up the corpse, and awaited the moment of interment. "

"It was a bold step, and one that showed some courage, " remarked theEnglishman.

"As I have already told you, sir, he was a very dangerous man; and, fortunately, by his own act disembarrassed the government of the fearsit had on his account. "

"How was that?"

"How? Do you not comprehend?"

"No. "

"The Chateau d'If has no cemetery, and they simply throw the dead intothe sea, after fastening a thirty-six pound cannon-ball to their feet. "

"Well, " observed the Englishman as if he were slow of comprehension.

"Well, they fastened a thirty-six pound ball to his feet, and threw himinto the sea. "

"Really!" exclaimed the Englishman.

"Yes, sir, " continued the inspector of prisons. "You may imagine theamazement of the fugitive when he found himself flung headlong over therocks! I should like to have seen his face at that moment. "

"That would have been difficult. "

"No matter, " replied De Boville, in supreme good-humor at the certaintyof recovering his two hundred thousand francs, --"no matter, I can fancyit. " And he shouted with laughter.

"So can I, " said the Englishman, and he laughed too; but he laughed asthe English do, "at the end of his teeth. "

"And so, " continued the Englishman who first gained his composure, "hewas drowned?"

"Unquestionably. "

"So that the governor got rid of the dangerous and the crazy prisoner atthe same time?"

"Precisely. "

"But some official document was drawn up as to this affair, I suppose?"inquired the Englishman.

"Yes, yes, the mortuary deposition. You understand, Dantes' relations, if he had any, might have some interest in knowing if he were dead oralive. "

"So that now, if there were anything to inherit from him, they may do sowith easy conscience. He is dead, and no mistake about it. "

"Oh, yes; and they may have the fact attested whenever they please. "

"So be it, " said the Englishman. "But to return to these registers. "

"True, this story has diverted our attention from them. Excuse me. "

"Excuse you for what? For the story? By no means; it really seems to mevery curious. "

"Yes, indeed. So, sir, you wish to see all relating to the poor abbe, who really was gentleness itself. "

"Yes, you will much oblige me. "

"Go into my study here, and I will show it to you. " And they bothentered M. De Boville's study. Everything was here arranged in perfectorder; each register had its number, each file of papers its place. Theinspector begged the Englishman to seat himself in an arm-chair, andplaced before him the register and documents relative to the Chateaud'If, giving him all the time he desired for the examination, while DeBoville seated himself in a corner, and began to read his newspaper. TheEnglishman easily found the entries relative to the Abbe Faria; but itseemed that the history which the inspector had related interested himgreatly, for after having perused the first documents he turned over theleaves until he reached the deposition respecting Edmond Dantes. Therehe found everything arranged in due order, --the accusation, examination, Morrel's petition, M. De Villefort's marginal notes. He folded upthe accusation quietly, and put it as quietly in his pocket; read theexamination, and saw that the name of Noirtier was not mentioned in it;perused, too, the application dated 10th April, 1815, in which Morrel, by the deputy procureur's advice, exaggerated with the best intentions(for Napoleon was then on the throne) the services Dantes had renderedto the imperial cause--services which Villefort's certificates renderedindispensable. Then he saw through the whole thing. This petitionto Napoleon, kept back by Villefort, had become, under the secondrestoration, a terrible weapon against him in the hands of the king'sattorney. He was no longer astonished when he searched on to find in theregister this note, placed in a bracket against his name:--

Edmond Dantes.

An inveterate Bonapartist; took an active part in the return from theIsland of Elba.

To be kept in strict solitary confinement, and to be closely watched andguarded.

Beneath these lines was written in another hand: "See noteabove--nothing can be done. " He compared the writing in the bracket withthe writing of the certificate placed beneath Morrel's petition, anddiscovered that the note in the bracket was the same writing as thecertificate--that is to say, was in Villefort's handwriting. As to thenote which accompanied this, the Englishman understood that it mighthave been added by some inspector who had taken a momentary interest inDantes' situation, but who had, from the remarks we have quoted, foundit impossible to give any effect to the interest he had felt.

As we have said, the inspector, from discretion, and that he might notdisturb the Abbe Faria's pupil in his researches, had seated himselfin a corner, and was reading Le Drapeau Blanc. He did not see theEnglishman fold up and place in his pocket the accusation written byDanglars under the arbor of La Reserve, and which had the postmark, "Marseilles, 27th Feb. , delivery 6 o'clock, P. M. " But it must be saidthat if he had seen it, he attached so little importance to this scrapof paper, and so much importance to his two hundred thousand francs, that he would not have opposed whatever the Englishman might do, howeverirregular it might be.

"Thanks, " said the latter, closing the register with a slam, "I haveall I want; now it is for me to perform my promise. Give me a simpleassignment of your debt; acknowledge therein the receipt of the cash, and I will hand you over the money. " He rose, gave his seat to M. DeBoville, who took it without ceremony, and quickly drew up the requiredassignment, while the Englishman counted out the bank-notes on the otherside of the desk.

Chapter 29. The House of Morrel & Son.

Any one who had quitted Marseilles a few years previously, wellacquainted with the interior of Morrel's warehouse, and had returned atthis date, would have found a great change. Instead of that air of life, of comfort, and of happiness that permeates a flourishing and prosperousbusiness establishment--instead of merry faces at the windows, busyclerks hurrying to and fro in the long corridors--instead of the courtfilled with bales of goods, re-echoing with the cries and the jokes ofporters, one would have immediately perceived all aspect of sadness andgloom. Out of all the numerous clerks that used to fill the desertedcorridor and the empty office, but two remained. One was a young man ofthree or four and twenty, who was in love with M. Morrel's daughter, andhad remained with him in spite of the efforts of his friends to inducehim to withdraw; the other was an old one-eyed cashier, called "Cocles, "or "Cock-eye, " a nickname given him by the young men who used to throngthis vast now almost deserted bee-hive, and which had so completelyreplaced his real name that he would not, in all probability, havereplied to any one who addressed him by it.

Cocles remained in M. Morrel's service, and a most singular change hadtaken place in his position; he had at the same time risen to the rankof cashier, and sunk to the rank of a servant. He was, however, thesame Cocles, good, patient, devoted, but inflexible on the subject ofarithmetic, the only point on which he would have stood firm against theworld, even against M. Morrel; and strong in the multiplication-table, which he had at his fingers' ends, no matter what scheme or what trapwas laid to catch him. In the midst of the disasters that befell thehouse, Cocles was the only one unmoved. But this did not arise from awant of affection; on the contrary, from a firm conviction. Like therats that one by one forsake the doomed ship even before the vesselweighs anchor, so all the numerous clerks had by degrees deserted theoffice and the warehouse. Cocles had seen them go without thinking ofinquiring the cause of their departure. Everything was as we have said, a question of arithmetic to Cocles, and during twenty years he hadalways seen all payments made with such exactitude, that it seemed asimpossible to him that the house should stop payment, as it would to amiller that the river that had so long turned his mill should cease toflow.

Nothing had as yet occurred to shake Cocles' belief; the last month'spayment had been made with the most scrupulous exactitude; Cocles haddetected an overbalance of fourteen sous in his cash, and the sameevening he had brought them to M. Morrel, who, with a melancholy smile, threw them into an almost empty drawer, saying:--

"Thanks, Cocles; you are the pearl of cashiers. "

Cocles went away perfectly happy, for this eulogium of M. Morrel, himself the pearl of the honest men of Marseilles, flattered him morethan a present of fifty crowns. But since the end of the month M. Morrelhad passed many an anxious hour. In order to meet the payments then due;he had collected all his resources, and, fearing lest the report of hisdistress should get bruited abroad at Marseilles when he was known to bereduced to such an extremity, he went to the Beaucaire fair to sell hiswife's and daughter's jewels and a portion of his plate. By this meansthe end of the month was passed, but his resources were now exhausted. Credit, owing to the reports afloat, was no longer to be had; and tomeet the one hundred thousand francs due on the 10th of the presentmonth, and the one hundred thousand francs due on the 15th of the nextmonth to M. De Boville, M. Morrel had, in reality, no hope but thereturn of the Pharaon, of whose departure he had learnt from a vesselwhich had weighed anchor at the same time, and which had already arrivedin harbor. But this vessel which, like the Pharaon, came from Calcutta, had been in for a fortnight, while no intelligence had been received ofthe Pharaon.

Such was the state of affairs when, the day after his interview with M. De Boville, the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson & Frenchof Rome, presented himself at M. Morrel's. Emmanuel received him; thisyoung man was alarmed by the appearance of every new face, for every newface might be that of a new creditor, come in anxiety to question thehead of the house. The young man, wishing to spare his employer the painof this interview, questioned the new-comer; but the stranger declaredthat he had nothing to say to M. Emmanuel, and that his business waswith M. Morrel in person. Emmanuel sighed, and summoned Cocles. Coclesappeared, and the young man bade him conduct the stranger to M. Morrel'sapartment. Cocles went first, and the stranger followed him. On thestaircase they met a beautiful girl of sixteen or seventeen, who lookedwith anxiety at the stranger.

"M. Morrel is in his room, is he not, Mademoiselle Julie?" said thecashier.

"Yes; I think so, at least, " said the young girl hesitatingly. "Go andsee, Cocles, and if my father is there, announce this gentleman. "

"It will be useless to announce me, mademoiselle, " returned theEnglishman. "M. Morrel does not know my name; this worthy gentleman hasonly to announce the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson & Frenchof Rome, with whom your father does business. "

The young girl turned pale and continued to descend, while the strangerand Cocles continued to mount the staircase. She entered the officewhere Emmanuel was, while Cocles, by the aid of a key he possessed, opened a door in the corner of a landing-place on the second staircase, conducted the stranger into an ante-chamber, opened a second door, whichhe closed behind him, and after having left the clerk of the house ofThomson & French alone, returned and signed to him that he could enter. The Englishman entered, and found Morrel seated at a table, turning overthe formidable columns of his ledger, which contained the list of hisliabilities. At the sight of the stranger, M. Morrel closed the ledger, arose, and offered a seat to the stranger; and when he had seen himseated, resumed his own chair. Fourteen years had changed the worthymerchant, who, in his thirty-sixth year at the opening of this history, was now in his fiftieth; his hair had turned white, time and sorrowhad ploughed deep furrows on his brow, and his look, once so firm andpenetrating, was now irresolute and wandering, as if he feared beingforced to fix his attention on some particular thought or person. TheEnglishman looked at him with an air of curiosity, evidently mingledwith interest. "Monsieur, " said Morrel, whose uneasiness was increasedby this examination, "you wish to speak to me?"

"Yes, monsieur; you are aware from whom I come?"

"The house of Thomson & French; at least, so my cashier tells me. "

"He has told you rightly. The house of Thomson & French had 300, 000 or400, 000 francs to pay this month in France; and, knowing your strictpunctuality, have collected all the bills bearing your signature, andcharged me as they became due to present them, and to employ the moneyotherwise. " Morrel sighed deeply, and passed his hand over his forehead, which was covered with perspiration.

"So then, sir, " said Morrel, "you hold bills of mine?"

"Yes, and for a considerable sum. "

"What is the amount?" asked Morrel with a voice he strove to renderfirm.

"Here is, " said the Englishman, taking a quantity of papers from hispocket, "an assignment of 200, 000 francs to our house by M. De Boville, the inspector of prisons, to whom they are due. You acknowledge, ofcourse, that you owe this sum to him?"

"Yes; he placed the money in my hands at four and a half per cent nearlyfive years ago. "

"When are you to pay?"

"Half the 15th of this month, half the 15th of next. "

"Just so; and now here are 32, 500 francs payable shortly; they are allsigned by you, and assigned to our house by the holders. "

"I recognize them, " said Morrel, whose face was suffused, as he thoughtthat, for the first time in his life, he would be unable to honor hisown signature. "Is this all?"

"No, I have for the end of the month these bills which have beenassigned to us by the house of Pascal, and the house of Wild & Turner ofMarseilles, amounting to nearly 55, 000. Francs; in all, 287, 500francs. " It is impossible to describe what Morrel suffered duringthis enumeration. "Two hundred and eighty-seven thousand five hundredfrancs, " repeated he.

"Yes, sir, " replied the Englishman. "I will not, " continued he, aftera moment's silence, "conceal from you, that while your probity andexactitude up to this moment are universally acknowledged, yet thereport is current in Marseilles that you are not able to meet yourliabilities. " At this almost brutal speech Morrel turned deathlypale. "Sir, " said he, "up to this time--and it is now more thanfour-and-twenty years since I received the direction of this house frommy father, who had himself conducted it for five and thirty years--neverhas anything bearing the signature of Morrel & Son been dishonored. "

"I know that, " replied the Englishman. "But as a man of honor shouldanswer another, tell me fairly, shall you pay these with the samepunctuality?" Morrel shuddered, and looked at the man, who spoke withmore assurance than he had hitherto shown. "To questions frankly put, "said he, "a straightforward answer should be given. Yes, I shall pay, if, as I hope, my vessel arrives safely; for its arrival will againprocure me the credit which the numerous accidents, of which I have beenthe victim, have deprived me; but if the Pharaon should be lost, andthis last resource be gone"--the poor man's eyes filled with tears.

"Well, " said the other, "if this last resource fail you?"

"Well, " returned Morrel, "it is a cruel thing to be forced to say, but, already used to misfortune, I must habituate myself to shame. I fear Ishall be forced to suspend payment. "

"Have you no friends who could assist you?" Morrel smiled mournfully. "In business, sir, " said he, "one has no friends, only correspondents. "

"It is true, " murmured the Englishman; "then you have but one hope. "

"But one. "

"The last?"

"The last. "

"So that if this fail"--

"I am ruined, --completely ruined!"

"As I was on my way here, a vessel was coming into port. "

"I know it, sir; a young man, who still adheres to my fallen fortunes, passes a part of his time in a belvidere at the top of the house, inhopes of being the first to announce good news to me; he has informed meof the arrival of this ship. "

"And it is not yours?"

"No, she is a Bordeaux vessel, La Gironde; she comes from India also;but she is not mine. "

"Perhaps she has spoken to the Pharaon, and brings you some tidings ofher?"

"Shall I tell you plainly one thing, sir? I dread almost as much toreceive any tidings of my vessel as to remain in doubt. Uncertaintyis still hope. " Then in a low voice Morrel added, --"This delay is notnatural. The Pharaon left Calcutta the 5th February; she ought to havebeen here a month ago. "

"What is that?" said the Englishman. "What is the meaning of thatnoise?"

"Oh, oh!" cried Morrel, turning pale, "what is it?" A loud noise washeard on the stairs of people moving hastily, and half-stifled sobs. Morrel rose and advanced to the door; but his strength failed him andhe sank into a chair. The two men remained opposite one another, Morreltrembling in every limb, the stranger gazing at him with an air ofprofound pity. The noise had ceased; but it seemed that Morrel expectedsomething--something had occasioned the noise, and something mustfollow. The stranger fancied he heard footsteps on the stairs; and thatthe footsteps, which were those of several persons, stopped at the door. A key was inserted in the lock of the first door, and the creaking ofhinges was audible.

"There are only two persons who have the key to that door, " murmuredMorrel, "Cocles and Julie. " At this instant the second door opened, and the young girl, her eyes bathed with tears, appeared. Morrel rosetremblingly, supporting himself by the arm of the chair. He would havespoken, but his voice failed him. "Oh, father!" said she, clasping herhands, "forgive your child for being the bearer of evil tidings. "

Morrel again changed color. Julie threw herself into his arms.

"Oh, father, father!" murmured she, "courage!"

"The Pharaon has gone down, then?" said Morrel in a hoarse voice. Theyoung girl did not speak; but she made an affirmative sign with her headas she lay on her father's breast.

"And the crew?" asked Morrel.

"Saved, " said the girl; "saved by the crew of the vessel that has justentered the harbor. " Morrel raised his two hands to heaven with anexpression of resignation and sublime gratitude. "Thanks, my God, " saidhe, "at least thou strikest but me alone. " A tear moistened the eye ofthe phlegmatic Englishman.

"Come in, come in, " said Morrel, "for I presume you are all at thedoor. "

Scarcely had he uttered those words than Madame Morrel entered weepingbitterly. Emmanuel followed her, and in the antechamber were visible therough faces of seven or eight half-naked sailors. At the sight of thesemen the Englishman started and advanced a step; then restrained himself, and retired into the farthest and most obscure corner of the apartment. Madame Morrel sat down by her husband and took one of his hands in hers, Julie still lay with her head on his shoulder, Emmanuel stood in thecentre of the chamber and seemed to form the link between Morrel'sfamily and the sailors at the door.

"How did this happen?" said Morrel.

"Draw nearer, Penelon, " said the young man, "and tell us all about it. "

An old seaman, bronzed by the tropical sun, advanced, twirling theremains of a tarpaulin between his hands. "Good-day, M. Morrel, " saidhe, as if he had just quitted Marseilles the previous evening, and hadjust returned from Aix or Toulon.

"Good-day, Penelon, " returned Morrel, who could not refrain from smilingthrough his tears, "where is the captain?"

"The captain, M. Morrel, --he has stayed behind sick at Palma; but pleaseGod, it won't be much, and you will see him in a few days all alive andhearty. "

"Well, now tell your story, Penelon. "

Penelon rolled his quid in his cheek, placed his hand before hismouth, turned his head, and sent a long jet of tobacco-juice into theantechamber, advanced his foot, balanced himself, and began, --"You see, M. Morrel, " said he, "we were somewhere between Cape Blanc and CapeBoyador, sailing with a fair breeze, south-south-west after a week'scalm, when Captain Gaumard comes up to me--I was at the helm I shouldtell you--and says, 'Penelon, what do you think of those clouds comingup over there?' I was just then looking at them myself. 'What do Ithink, captain? Why I think that they are rising faster than they haveany business to do, and that they would not be so black if they didn'tmean mischief. '--'That's my opinion too, ' said the captain, 'and I'lltake precautions accordingly. We are carrying too much canvas. Avast, there, all hands! Take in the studding-sl's and stow the flying jib. ' Itwas time; the squall was on us, and the vessel began to heel. 'Ah, ' saidthe captain, 'we have still too much canvas set; all hands lowerthe mains'l!' Five minutes after, it was down; and we sailed undermizzen-tops'ls and to'gall'nt sails. 'Well, Penelon, ' said the captain, 'what makes you shake your head?' 'Why, ' I says, 'I still think you'vegot too much on. ' 'I think you're right, ' answered he, 'we shall have agale. ' 'A gale? More than that, we shall have a tempest, or I don't knowwhat's what. ' You could see the wind coming like the dust at Montredon;luckily the captain understood his business. 'Take in two reefs in thetops'ls, ' cried the captain; 'let go the bowlin's, haul the brace, lowerthe to'gall'nt sails, haul out the reef-tackles on the yards. '"

"That was not enough for those latitudes, " said the Englishman; "Ishould have taken four reefs in the topsails and furled the spanker. "

His firm, sonorous, and unexpected voice made every one start. Penelonput his hand over his eyes, and then stared at the man who thuscriticized the manoeuvres of his captain. "We did better than that, sir, " said the old sailor respectfully; "we put the helm up to runbefore the tempest; ten minutes after we struck our tops'ls and scuddedunder bare poles. "

"The vessel was very old to risk that, " said the Englishman.

"Eh, it was that that did the business; after pitching heavily fortwelve hours we sprung a leak. 'Penelon, ' said the captain, 'I think weare sinking, give me the helm, and go down into the hold. ' I gave himthe helm, and descended; there was already three feet of water. 'Allhands to the pumps!' I shouted; but it was too late, and it seemed themore we pumped the more came in. 'Ah, ' said I, after four hours' work, 'since we are sinking, let us sink; we can die but once. ' 'That'sthe example you set, Penelon, ' cries the captain; 'very well, wait aminute. ' He went into his cabin and came back with a brace of pistols. 'I will blow the brains out of the first man who leaves the pump, ' saidhe. "

"Well done!" said the Englishman.

"There's nothing gives you so much courage as good reasons, " continuedthe sailor; "and during that time the wind had abated, and the sea gonedown, but the water kept rising; not much, only two inches an hour, but still it rose. Two inches an hour does not seem much, but in twelvehours that makes two feet, and three we had before, that makes five. 'Come, ' said the captain, 'we have done all in our power, and M. Morrelwill have nothing to reproach us with, we have tried to save the ship, let us now save ourselves. To the boats, my lads, as quick as you can. 'Now, " continued Penelon, "you see, M. Morrel, a sailor is attached tohis ship, but still more to his life, so we did not wait to be toldtwice; the more so, that the ship was sinking under us, and seemed tosay, 'Get along--save yourselves. ' We soon launched the boat, and alleight of us got into it. The captain descended last, or rather, hedid not descend, he would not quit the vessel; so I took him round thewaist, and threw him into the boat, and then I jumped after him. Itwas time, for just as I jumped the deck burst with a noise like thebroadside of a man-of-war. Ten minutes after she pitched forward, thenthe other way, spun round and round, and then good-by to the Pharaon. Asfor us, we were three days without anything to eat or drink, so that webegan to think of drawing lots who should feed the rest, when we saw LaGironde; we made signals of distress, she perceived us, made for us, andtook us all on board. There now, M. Morrel, that's the whole truth, onthe honor of a sailor; is not it true, you fellows there?" A generalmurmur of approbation showed that the narrator had faithfully detailedtheir misfortunes and sufferings.

"Well, well, " said M. Morrel, "I know there was no one in fault butdestiny. It was the will of God that this should happen, blessed be hisname. What wages are due to you?"

"Oh, don't let us talk of that, M. Morrel. "

"Yes, but we will talk of it. "

"Well, then, three months, " said Penelon.

"Cocles, pay two hundred francs to each of these good fellows, " saidMorrel. "At another time, " added he, "I should have said, Give them, besides, two hundred francs over as a present; but times are changed, and the little money that remains to me is not my own. "

Penelon turned to his companions, and exchanged a few words with them.

"As for that, M. Morrel, " said he, again turning his quid, "as forthat"--

"As for what?"

"The money. "

"Well"--

"Well, we all say that fifty francs will be enough for us at present, and that we will wait for the rest. "

"Thanks, my friends, thanks!" cried Morrel gratefully; "take it--takeit; and if you can find another employer, enter his service; you arefree to do so. " These last words produced a prodigious effect on theseaman. Penelon nearly swallowed his quid; fortunately he recovered. "What, M. Morrel!" said he in a low voice, "you send us away; you arethen angry with us!"

"No, no, " said M. Morrel, "I am not angry, quite the contrary, and I donot send you away; but I have no more ships, and therefore I do not wantany sailors. "

"No more ships!" returned Penelon; "well, then, you'll build some; we'llwait for you. "

"I have no money to build ships with, Penelon, " said the poor ownermournfully, "so I cannot accept your kind offer. "

"No more money? Then you must not pay us; we can scud, like the Pharaon, under bare poles. "

"Enough, enough!" cried Morrel, almost overpowered; "leave me, I prayyou; we shall meet again in a happier time. Emmanuel, go with them, andsee that my orders are executed. "

"At least, we shall see each other again, M. Morrel?" asked Penelon.

"Yes; I hope so, at least. Now go. " He made a sign to Cocles, who wentfirst; the seamen followed him and Emmanuel brought up the rear. "Now, "said the owner to his wife and daughter, "leave me; I wish to speak withthis gentleman. " And he glanced towards the clerk of Thomson & French, who had remained motionless in the corner during this scene, in which hehad taken no part, except the few words we have mentioned. The two womenlooked at this person whose presence they had entirely forgotten, andretired; but, as she left the apartment, Julie gave the stranger asupplicating glance, to which he replied by a smile that an indifferentspectator would have been surprised to see on his stern features. Thetwo men were left alone. "Well, sir, " said Morrel, sinking into a chair, "you have heard all, and I have nothing further to tell you. "

"I see, " returned the Englishman, "that a fresh and unmerited misfortunehis overwhelmed you, and this only increases my desire to serve you. "

"Oh, sir!" cried Morrel.

"Let me see, " continued the stranger, "I am one of your largestcreditors. "

"Your bills, at least, are the first that will fall due. "

"Do you wish for time to pay?"

"A delay would save my honor, and consequently my life. "

"How long a delay do you wish for?"--Morrel reflected. "Two months, "said he.

"I will give you three, " replied the stranger.

"But, " asked Morrel, "will the house of Thomson & French consent?"

"Oh, I take everything on myself. To-day is the 5th of June. "

"Yes. "

"Well, renew these bills up to the 5th of September; and on the 5th ofSeptember at eleven o'clock (the hand of the clock pointed to eleven), Ishall come to receive the money. "

"I shall expect you, " returned Morrel; "and I will pay you--or I shallbe dead. " These last words were uttered in so low a tone that thestranger could not hear them. The bills were renewed, the old onesdestroyed, and the poor ship-owner found himself with three monthsbefore him to collect his resources. The Englishman received his thankswith the phlegm peculiar to his nation; and Morrel, overwhelming himwith grateful blessings, conducted him to the staircase. The strangermet Julie on the stairs; she pretended to be descending, but in realityshe was waiting for him. "Oh, sir"--said she, clasping her hands.

"Mademoiselle, " said the stranger, "one day you will receive a lettersigned 'Sinbad the Sailor. ' Do exactly what the letter bids you, howeverstrange it may appear. "

"Yes, sir, " returned Julie.

"Do you promise?"

"I swear to you I will. "

"It is well. Adieu, mademoiselle. Continue to be the good, sweet girlyou are at present, and I have great hopes that heaven will reward youby giving you Emmanuel for a husband. "

Julie uttered a faint cry, blushed like a rose, and leaned against thebaluster. The stranger waved his hand, and continued to descend. Inthe court he found Penelon, who, with a rouleau of a hundred francs ineither hand, seemed unable to make up his mind to retain them. "Comewith me, my friend, " said the Englishman; "I wish to speak to you. "

Chapter 30. The Fifth of September.

The extension provided for by the agent of Thomson & French, at themoment when Morrel expected it least, was to the poor shipowner sodecided a stroke of good fortune that he almost dared to believe thatfate was at length grown weary of wasting her spite upon him. The sameday he told his wife, Emmanuel, and his daughter all that had occurred;and a ray of hope, if not of tranquillity, returned to the family. Unfortunately, however, Morrel had not only engagements with the houseof Thomson & French, who had shown themselves so considerate towardshim; and, as he had said, in business he had correspondents, and notfriends. When he thought the matter over, he could by no means accountfor this generous conduct on the part of Thomson & French towards him;and could only attribute it to some such selfish argument as this:--"Wehad better help a man who owes us nearly 300, 000 francs, and have those300, 000 francs at the end of three months than hasten his ruin, andget only six or eight per cent of our money back again. " Unfortunately, whether through envy or stupidity, all Morrel's correspondents did nottake this view; and some even came to a contrary decision. Thebills signed by Morrel were presented at his office with scrupulousexactitude, and, thanks to the delay granted by the Englishman, werepaid by Cocles with equal punctuality. Cocles thus remained in hisaccustomed tranquillity. It was Morrel alone who remembered with alarm, that if he had to repay on the 15th the 50, 000 francs of M. De Boville, and on the 30th the 32, 500 francs of bills, for which, as well as thedebt due to the inspector of prisons, he had time granted, he must be aruined man.

The opinion of all the commercial men was that, under the reverseswhich had successively weighed down Morrel, it was impossible for him toremain solvent. Great, therefore, was the astonishment when at theend of the month, he cancelled all his obligations with his usualpunctuality. Still confidence was not restored to all minds, and thegeneral opinion was that the complete ruin of the unfortunate shipownerhad been postponed only until the end of the month. The month passed, and Morrel made extraordinary efforts to get in all his resources. Formerly his paper, at any date, was taken with confidence, and was evenin request. Morrel now tried to negotiate bills at ninety days only, andnone of the banks would give him credit. Fortunately, Morrel had somefunds coming in on which he could rely; and, as they reached him, hefound himself in a condition to meet his engagements when the end ofJuly came. The agent of Thomson & French had not been again seen atMarseilles; the day after, or two days after his visit to Morrel, he haddisappeared; and as in that city he had had no intercourse but with themayor, the inspector of prisons, and M. Morrel, his departure left notrace except in the memories of these three persons. As to the sailorsof the Pharaon, they must have found snug berths elsewhere, for theyalso had disappeared.

Captain Gaumard, recovered from his illness, had returned from Palma. He delayed presenting himself at Morrel's, but the owner, hearing ofhis arrival, went to see him. The worthy shipowner knew, from Penelon'srecital, of the captain's brave conduct during the storm, and tried toconsole him. He brought him also the amount of his wages, which CaptainGaumard had not dared to apply for. As he descended the staircase, Morrel met Penelon, who was going up. Penelon had, it would seem, madegood use of his money, for he was newly clad. When he saw his employer, the worthy tar seemed much embarrassed, drew on one side into the cornerof the landing-place, passed his quid from one cheek to the other, stared stupidly with his great eyes, and only acknowledged the squeezeof the hand which Morrel as usual gave him by a slight pressure inreturn. Morrel attributed Penelon's embarrassment to the elegance of hisattire; it was evident the good fellow had not gone to such an expenseon his own account; he was, no doubt, engaged on board some othervessel, and thus his bashfulness arose from the fact of his not having, if we may so express ourselves, worn mourning for the Pharaon longer. Perhaps he had come to tell Captain Gaumard of his good luck, and tooffer him employment from his new master. "Worthy fellows!" said Morrel, as he went away, "may your new master love you as I loved you, and bemore fortunate than I have been!"

August rolled by in unceasing efforts on the part of Morrel to renewhis credit or revive the old. On the 20th of August it was known atMarseilles that he had left town in the mailcoach, and then it was saidthat the bills would go to protest at the end of the month, and thatMorrel had gone away and left his chief clerk Emmanuel, and his cashierCocles, to meet the creditors. But, contrary to all expectation, whenthe 31st of August came, the house opened as usual, and Cocles appearedbehind the grating of the counter, examined all bills presented withthe usual scrutiny, and, from first to last, paid all with the usualprecision. There came in, moreover, two drafts which M. Morrel had fullyanticipated, and which Cocles paid as punctually as the bills which theshipowner had accepted. All this was incomprehensible, and then, withthe tenacity peculiar to prophets of bad news, the failure was put offuntil the end of September. On the 1st, Morrel returned; he was awaitedby his family with extreme anxiety, for from this journey to Paristhey hoped great things. Morrel had thought of Danglars, who was nowimmensely rich, and had lain under great obligations to Morrel in formerdays, since to him it was owing that Danglars entered the service ofthe Spanish banker, with whom he had laid the foundations of his vastwealth. It was said at this moment that Danglars was worth from sixto eight millions of francs, and had unlimited credit. Danglars, then, without taking a crown from his pocket, could save Morrel; he had but topass his word for a loan, and Morrel was saved. Morrel had long thoughtof Danglars, but had kept away from some instinctive motive, and haddelayed as long as possible availing himself of this last resource. AndMorrel was right, for he returned home crushed by the humiliation of arefusal. Yet, on his arrival, Morrel did not utter a complaint, orsay one harsh word. He embraced his weeping wife and daughter, pressedEmmanuel's hand with friendly warmth, and then going to his private roomon the second floor had sent for Cocles. "Then, " said the two women toEmmanuel, "we are indeed ruined. "

It was agreed in a brief council held among them, that Julie shouldwrite to her brother, who was in garrison at Nimes, to come to themas speedily as possible. The poor women felt instinctively that theyrequired all their strength to support the blow that impended. Besides, Maximilian Morrel, though hardly two and twenty, had great influenceover his father. He was a strong-minded, upright young man. At the timewhen he decided on his profession his father had no desire to choose forhim, but had consulted young Maximilian's taste. He had at once declaredfor a military life, and had in consequence studied hard, passedbrilliantly through the Polytechnic School, and left it assub-lieutenant of the 53d of the line. For a year he had held this rank, and expected promotion on the first vacancy. In his regiment MaximilianMorrel was noted for his rigid observance, not only of the obligationsimposed on a soldier, but also of the duties of a man; and he thusgained the name of "the stoic. " We need hardly say that many of thosewho gave him this epithet repeated it because they had heard it, and didnot even know what it meant. This was the young man whom his mother andsister called to their aid to sustain them under the serious trial whichthey felt they would soon have to endure. They had not mistaken thegravity of this event, for the moment after Morrel had entered hisprivate office with Cocles, Julie saw the latter leave it pale, trembling, and his features betraying the utmost consternation. Shewould have questioned him as he passed by her, but the worthy creaturehastened down the staircase with unusual precipitation, and only raisedhis hands to heaven and exclaimed, "Oh, mademoiselle, mademoiselle, what a dreadful misfortune! Who could ever have believed it!" A momentafterwards Julie saw him go up-stairs carrying two or three heavyledgers, a portfolio, and a bag of money.

Morrel examined the ledgers, opened the portfolio, and counted themoney. All his funds amounted to 6, 000, or 8, 000. Francs, his billsreceivable up to the 5th to 4, 000 or 5, 000, which, making the best ofeverything, gave him 14, 000. Francs to meet debts amounting to 287, 500francs. He had not even the means for making a possible settlement onaccount. However, when Morrel went down to his dinner, he appeared verycalm. This calmness was more alarming to the two women than the deepestdejection would have been. After dinner Morrel usually went out and usedto take his coffee at the Phocaean club, and read the Semaphore; thisday he did not leave the house, but returned to his office.

As to Cocles, he seemed completely bewildered. For part of the day hewent into the court-yard, seated himself on a stone with his head bareand exposed to the blazing sun. Emmanuel tried to comfort the women, buthis eloquence faltered. The young man was too well acquainted with thebusiness of the house, not to feel that a great catastrophe hung overthe Morrel family. Night came, the two women had watched, hoping thatwhen he left his room Morrel would come to them, but they heard him passbefore their door, and trying to conceal the noise of his footsteps. They listened; he went into his sleeping-room, and fastened the doorinside. Madame Morrel sent her daughter to bed, and half an hour afterJulie had retired, she rose, took off her shoes, and went stealthilyalong the passage, to see through the keyhole what her husband wasdoing. In the passage she saw a retreating shadow; it was Julie, who, uneasy herself, had anticipated her mother. The young lady went towardsMadame Morrel.

"He is writing, " she said. They had understood each other withoutspeaking. Madame Morrel looked again through the keyhole, Morrel waswriting; but Madame Morrel remarked, what her daughter had not observed, that her husband was writing on stamped paper. The terrible idea that hewas writing his will flashed across her; she shuddered, and yet had notstrength to utter a word. Next day M. Morrel seemed as calm as ever, went into his office as usual, came to his breakfast punctually, andthen, after dinner, he placed his daughter beside him, took her headin his arms, and held her for a long time against his bosom. In theevening, Julie told her mother, that although he was apparently so calm, she had noticed that her father's heart beat violently. The nexttwo days passed in much the same way. On the evening of the 4th ofSeptember, M. Morrel asked his daughter for the key of his study. Julietrembled at this request, which seemed to her of bad omen. Why did herfather ask for this key which she always kept, and which was only takenfrom her in childhood as a punishment? The young girl looked at Morrel.

"What have I done wrong, father, " she said, "that you should take thiskey from me?"

"Nothing, my dear, " replied the unhappy man, the tears starting to hiseyes at this simple question, --"nothing, only I want it. " Julie madea pretence to feel for the key. "I must have left it in my room, "she said. And she went out, but instead of going to her apartment shehastened to consult Emmanuel. "Do not give this key to your father, "said he, "and to-morrow morning, if possible, do not quit him for amoment. " She questioned Emmanuel, but he knew nothing, or would not saywhat he knew. During the night, between the 4th and 5th of September, Madame Morrel remained listening for every sound, and, until threeo'clock in the morning, she heard her husband pacing the room in greatagitation. It was three o'clock when he threw himself on the bed. The mother and daughter passed the night together. They had expectedMaximilian since the previous evening. At eight o'clock in the morningMorrel entered their chamber. He was calm; but the agitation of thenight was legible in his pale and careworn visage. They did not dareto ask him how he had slept. Morrel was kinder to his wife, moreaffectionate to his daughter, than he had ever been. He could not ceasegazing at and kissing the sweet girl. Julie, mindful of Emmanuel'srequest, was following her father when he quitted the room, but he saidto her quickly, --"Remain with your mother, dearest. " Julie wished toaccompany him. "I wish you to do so, " said he.

This was the first time Morrel had ever so spoken, but he said it ina tone of paternal kindness, and Julie did not dare to disobey. Sheremained at the same spot standing mute and motionless. An instantafterwards the door opened, she felt two arms encircle her, and a mouthpressed her forehead. She looked up and uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Maximilian, my dearest brother!" she cried. At these words MadameMorrel rose, and threw herself into her son's arms. "Mother, " said theyoung man, looking alternately at Madame Morrel and her daughter, "whathas occurred--what has happened? Your letter has frightened me, and Ihave come hither with all speed. "

"Julie, " said Madame Morrel, making a sign to the young man, "go andtell your father that Maximilian has just arrived. " The young ladyrushed out of the apartment, but on the first step of the staircase shefound a man holding a letter in his hand.

"Are you not Mademoiselle Julie Morrel?" inquired the man, with a strongItalian accent.

"Yes, sir, " replied Julie with hesitation; "what is your pleasure? I donot know you. "

"Read this letter, " he said, handing it to her. Julie hesitated. "Itconcerns the best interests of your father, " said the messenger.

The young girl hastily took the letter from him. She opened it quicklyand read:--

"Go this moment to the Allees de Meillan, enter the house No. 15, ask the porter for the key of the room on the fifth floor, enter theapartment, take from the corner of the mantelpiece a purse netted in redsilk, and give it to your father. It is important that he should receiveit before eleven o'clock. You promised to obey me implicitly. Rememberyour oath.

"Sinbad the Sailor. "

The young girl uttered a joyful cry, raised her eyes, looked round toquestion the messenger, but he had disappeared. She cast her eyesagain over the note to peruse it a second time, and saw there was apostscript. She read:--

"It is important that you should fulfil this mission in person andalone. If you go accompanied by any other person, or should any one elsego in your place, the porter will reply that he does not know anythingabout it. "

This postscript decreased greatly the young girl's happiness. Was therenothing to fear? was there not some snare laid for her? Her innocencehad kept her in ignorance of the dangers that might assail a young girlof her age. But there is no need to know danger in order to fear it;indeed, it may be observed, that it is usually unknown perils thatinspire the greatest terror.

Julie hesitated, and resolved to take counsel. Yet, through a singularimpulse, it was neither to her mother nor her brother that she applied, but to Emmanuel. She hastened down and told him what had occurred on theday when the agent of Thomson & French had come to her father's, relatedthe scene on the staircase, repeated the promise she had made, andshowed him the letter. "You must go, then, mademoiselle, " said Emmanuel.

"Go there?" murmured Julie.

"Yes; I will accompany you. "

"But did you not read that I must be alone?" said Julie.

"And you shall be alone, " replied the young man. "I will await you atthe corner of the Rue de Musee, and if you are so long absent as to makeme uneasy, I will hasten to rejoin you, and woe to him of whom you shallhave cause to complain to me!"

"Then, Emmanuel?" said the young girl with hesitation, "it is youropinion that I should obey this invitation?"

"Yes. Did not the messenger say your father's safety depended upon it?"

"But what danger threatens him, then, Emmanuel?" she asked.

Emmanuel hesitated a moment, but his desire to make Julie decideimmediately made him reply.

"Listen, " he said; "to-day is the 5th of September, is it not?"

"Yes. "

"To-day, then, at eleven o'clock, your father has nearly three hundredthousand francs to pay?"

"Yes, we know that. "

"Well, then, " continued Emmanuel, "we have not fifteen thousand francsin the house. "

"What will happen then?"

"Why, if to-day before eleven o'clock your father has not found someonewho will come to his aid, he will be compelled at twelve o'clock todeclare himself a bankrupt. "

"Oh, come, then, come!" cried she, hastening away with the young man. During this time, Madame Morrel had told her son everything. The youngman knew quite well that, after the succession of misfortunes whichhad befallen his father, great changes had taken place in the style ofliving and housekeeping; but he did not know that matters had reachedsuch a point. He was thunderstruck. Then, rushing hastily out of theapartment, he ran up-stairs, expecting to find his father in his study, but he rapped there in vain.

While he was yet at the door of the study he heard the bedroom dooropen, turned, and saw his father. Instead of going direct to his study, M. Morrel had returned to his bed-chamber, which he was only this momentquitting. Morrel uttered a cry of surprise at the sight of his son, of whose arrival he was ignorant. He remained motionless on the spot, pressing with his left hand something he had concealed under his coat. Maximilian sprang down the staircase, and threw his arms round hisfather's neck; but suddenly he recoiled, and placed his right hand onMorrel's breast. "Father, " he exclaimed, turning pale as death, "whatare you going to do with that brace of pistols under your coat?"

"Oh, this is what I feared!" said Morrel.

"Father, father, in heaven's name, " exclaimed the young man, "what arethese weapons for?"

"Maximilian, " replied Morrel, looking fixedly at his son, "you are aman, and a man of honor. Come, and I will explain to you. "

And with a firm step Morrel went up to his study, while Maximilianfollowed him, trembling as he went. Morrel opened the door, and closedit behind his son; then, crossing the anteroom, went to his desk onwhich he placed the pistols, and pointed with his finger to an openledger. In this ledger was made out an exact balance-sheet of hisaffair's. Morrel had to pay, within half an hour, 287, 500 francs. All hepossessed was 15, 257 francs. "Read!" said Morrel.

The young man was overwhelmed as he read. Morrel said not a word. Whatcould he say? What need he add to such a desperate proof in figures?"And have you done all that is possible, father, to meet this disastrousresult?" asked the young man, after a moment's pause. "I have, " repliedMorrel.

"You have no money coming in on which you can rely?"

"None. "

"You have exhausted every resource?"

"All. "

"And in half an hour, " said Maximilian in a gloomy voice, "our name isdishonored!"

"Blood washes out dishonor, " said Morrel.

"You are right, father; I understand you. " Then extending his handtowards one of the pistols, he said, "There is one for you and one forme--thanks!" Morrel caught his hand. "Your mother--your sister! Who willsupport them?" A shudder ran through the young man's frame. "Father, " hesaid, "do you reflect that you are bidding me to live?"

"Yes, I do so bid you, " answered Morrel, "it is your duty. You have acalm, strong mind, Maximilian. Maximilian, you are no ordinary man. Imake no requests or commands; I only ask you to examine my position asif it were your own, and then judge for yourself. "

The young man reflected for a moment, then an expression of sublimeresignation appeared in his eyes, and with a slow and sad gesture hetook off his two epaulets, the insignia of his rank. "Be it so, then, my father, " he said, extending his hand to Morrel, "die in peace, myfather; I will live. " Morrel was about to cast himself on his kneesbefore his son, but Maximilian caught him in his arms, and those twonoble hearts were pressed against each other for a moment. "You know itis not my fault, " said Morrel. Maximilian smiled. "I know, father, youare the most honorable man I have ever known. "

"Good, my son. And now there is no more to be said; go and rejoin yourmother and sister. "

"My father, " said the young man, bending his knee, "bless me!" Morreltook the head of his son between his two hands, drew him forward, andkissing his forehead several times said, "Oh, yes, yes, I bless you inmy own name, and in the name of three generations of irreproachablemen, who say through me, 'The edifice which misfortune has destroyed, providence may build up again. ' On seeing me die such a death, the mostinexorable will have pity on you. To you, perhaps, they will accord thetime they have refused to me. Then do your best to keep our name freefrom dishonor. Go to work, labor, young man, struggle ardently andcourageously; live, yourself, your mother and sister, with the mostrigid economy, so that from day to day the property of those whom Ileave in your hands may augment and fructify. Reflect how glorious a dayit will be, how grand, how solemn, that day of complete restoration, onwhich you will say in this very office, 'My father died because he couldnot do what I have this day done; but he died calmly and peaceably, because in dying he knew what I should do. '"

"My father, my father!" cried the young man, "why should you not live?"

"If I live, all would be changed; if I live, interest would be convertedinto doubt, pity into hostility; if I live I am only a man who hisbroken his word, failed in his engagements--in fact, only a bankrupt. If, on the contrary, I die, remember, Maximilian, my corpse is that ofan honest but unfortunate man. Living, my best friends would avoid myhouse; dead, all Marseilles will follow me in tears to my last home. Living, you would feel shame at my name; dead, you may raise your headand say, 'I am the son of him you killed, 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 yourmother and sister away. "

"Will you not see my sister once more?" asked Maximilian. A lastbut final hope was concealed by the young man in the effect of thisinterview, and therefore he had suggested it. Morrel shook his head. "Isaw her this morning, and bade her adieu. "

"Have you no particular commands to leave with me, my father?" inquiredMaximilian 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 hadany pity for me. Its agent, who will in ten minutes present himself toreceive 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 bealone. You will find my will in the secretary in my bedroom. "

The young man remained standing and motionless, having but the force ofwill and not the power of execution.

"Hear me, Maximilian, " said his father. "Suppose I was a soldier likeyou, and ordered to carry a certain redoubt, and you knew I must bekilled 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 toshame!'"

"Yes, yes, " said the young man, "yes;" and once again embracing hisfather with convulsive pressure, he said, "Be it so, my father. "

And he rushed out of the study. When his son had left him, Morrelremained an instant standing with his eyes fixed on the door; thenputting 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 lastdays had crushed him. This thought--the house of Morrel is about to stoppayment--bent him to the earth more than twenty years would otherwisehave done.

"My worthy Cocles, " said Morrel in a tone impossible to describe, "doyou remain in the ante-chamber. When the gentleman who came three monthsago--the agent of Thomson & French--arrives, announce his arrival tome. " Cocles made no reply; he made a sign with his head, went into theanteroom, and seated himself. Morrel fell back in his chair, his eyesfixed on the clock; there were seven minutes left, that was all. Thehand 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 agonycannot be told in words. He was still comparatively young, he wassurrounded by the loving care of a devoted family, but he had convincedhimself by a course of reasoning, illogical perhaps, yet certainlyplausible, that he must separate himself from all he held dear in theworld, even life itself. To form the slightest idea of his feelings, onemust have seen his face with its expression of enforced resignation andits tear-moistened eyes raised to heaven. The minute hand moved on. The pistols were loaded; he stretched forth his hand, took one up, andmurmured his daughter's name. Then he laid it down seized his pen, andwrote a few words. It seemed to him as if he had not taken a sufficientfarewell of his beloved daughter. Then he turned again to the clock, counting time now not by minutes, but by seconds. He took up the deadlyweapon again, his lips parted and his eyes fixed on the clock, and thenshuddered at the click of the trigger as he cocked the pistol. At thismoment of mortal anguish the cold sweat came forth upon his brow, a pangstronger than death clutched at his heart-strings. He heard the door ofthe staircase creak on its hinges--the clock gave its warning to strikeeleven--the door of his study opened; Morrel did not turn round--heexpected these words of Cocles, "The agent of Thomson & French. "

He placed the muzzle of the pistol between his teeth. Suddenly he hearda cry--it was his daughter's voice. He turned and saw Julie. The pistolfell from his hands. "My father!" cried the young girl, out of breath, and half dead with joy--"saved, you are saved!" And she threw herselfinto 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 remembrancereminded him that it once belonged to himself. At one end was thereceipted bill for the 287, 000 francs, and at the other was a diamondas large as a hazel-nut, with these words on a small slip ofparchment:--Julie's Dowry.

Morrel passed his hand over his brow; it seemed to him a dream. At thismoment the clock struck eleven. He felt as if each stroke of the hammerfell 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 Allees de Meillan, No. 15, on the corner of amantelpiece in a small room on the fifth floor. "

"But, " cried Morrel, "this purse is not yours!" Julie handed to herfather 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 thecorner of the Rue de Musee, but, strange to say, he was not there when Ireturned. "

"Monsieur Morrel!" exclaimed a voice on the stairs. --"Monsieur Morrel!"

"It is his voice!" said Julie. At this moment Emmanuel entered, hiscountenance full of animation and joy. "The Pharaon!" he cried; "thePharaon!"

"What--what--the Pharaon! Are you mad, Emmanuel? You know the vessel islost. "

"The Pharaon, sir--they signal the Pharaon! The Pharaon is entering theharbor!" Morrel fell back in his chair, his strength was failing him;his understanding weakened by such events, refused to comprehend suchincredible, unheard-of, fabulous facts. But his son came in. "Father, "cried Maximilian, "how could you say the Pharaon was lost? The lookouthas 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 ofheaven! Impossible, impossible!"

But what was real and not less incredible was the purse he held in hishand, 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 andsee, and heaven have pity upon us if it be false intelligence!" They allwent out, and on the stairs met Madame Morrel, who had been afraid to goup into the study. In a moment they were at the Cannebiere. There was acrowd 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 aship bearing on her stern these words, printed in white letters, "ThePharaon, Morrel & Son, of Marseilles. " She was the exact duplicate ofthe other Pharaon, and loaded, as that had been, with cochineal andindigo. She cast anchor, clued up sails, and on the deck was CaptainGaumard giving orders, and good old Penelon making signals to M. Morrel. To doubt any longer was impossible; there was the evidence of thesenses, and ten thousand persons who came to corroborate the testimony. As Morrel and his son embraced on the pier-head, in the presence andamid the applause of the whole city witnessing this event, a man, withhis face half-covered by a black beard, and who, concealed behind thesentry-box, watched the scene with delight, uttered these words in a lowtone: "Be happy, noble heart, be blessed for all the good thou hast doneand wilt do hereafter, and let my gratitude remain in obscurity likeyour good deeds. "

And with a smile expressive of supreme content, he left hishiding-place, and without being observed, descended one of the flightsof steps provided for debarkation, and hailing three times, shouted"Jacopo, Jacopo, Jacopo!" Then a launch came to shore, took him onboard, and conveyed him to a yacht splendidly fitted up, on whose deckhe sprung with the activity of a sailor; thence he once again lookedtowards Morrel, who, weeping with joy, was shaking hands most cordiallywith all the crowd around him, and thanking with a look the unknownbenefactor whom he seemed to be seeking in the skies. "And now, " saidthe unknown, "farewell kindness, humanity, and gratitude! Farewell toall the feelings that expand the heart! I have been heaven's substituteto recompense the good--now the god of vengeance yields to me his powerto punish the wicked!" At these words he gave a signal, and, as if onlyawaiting 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 thefirst society of Paris, the Vicomte Albert de Morcerf and the BaronFranz d'Epinay, were at Florence. They had agreed to see the Carnival atRome that year, and that Franz, who for the last three or four yearshad inhabited Italy, should act as cicerone to Albert. As it is noinconsiderable affair to spend the Carnival at Rome, especially whenyou have no great desire to sleep on the Piazza del Popolo, or the CampoVaccino, they wrote to Signor Pastrini, the proprietor of the Hotel deLondres, Piazza di Spagna, to reserve comfortable apartments for them. Signor Pastrini replied that he had only two rooms and a parlor on thethird 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 timethat was left, Albert started for Naples. As for Franz, he remained atFlorence, and after having passed a few days in exploring the paradiseof the Cascine, and spending two or three evenings at the houses ofthe Florentine nobility, he took a fancy into his head (havingalready visited Corsica, the cradle of Bonaparte) to visit Elba, thewaiting-place of Napoleon.

One evening he cast off the painter of a sailboat from the iron ringthat secured it to the dock at Leghorn, wrapped himself in his coat andlay down, and said to the crew, --"To the Island of Elba!" The boat shotout of the harbor like a bird and the next morning Franz disembarked atPorto-Ferrajo. He traversed the island, after having followed thetraces which the footsteps of the giant have left, and re-embarkedfor Marciana. Two hours after he again landed at Pianosa, where he wasassured that red partridges abounded. The sport was bad; Franz onlysucceeded in killing a few partridges, and, like every unsuccessfulsportsman, he returned to the boat very much out of temper. "Ah, if yourexcellency chose, " said the captain, "you might have capital sport. "

"Where?"

"Do you see that island?" continued the captain, pointing to a conicalpile 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 isuninhabited. "

"Ah, indeed!" said the young man. "A desert island in the midst of theMediterranean must be a curiosity. "

"It is very natural; this island is a mass of rocks, and does notcontain 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 increduloussmile.

"No, but by browsing the shrubs and trees that grow out of the crevicesof the rocks. "

"Where can I sleep?"

"On shore in the grottos, or on board in your cloak; besides, if yourexcellency pleases, we can leave as soon as you like--we can sail aswell 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 notyet available, he accepted the proposition. Upon his answer in theaffirmative, 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 theisland is an infected port. "

"What do you mean?"

"Monte Cristo although uninhabited, yet serves occasionally as a refugefor the smugglers and pirates who come from Corsica, Sardinia, andAfrica, and if it becomes known that we have been there, we shall haveto 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 await--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 soonsailing in the direction of the island. Franz waited until all was inorder, and when the sail was filled, and the four sailors had takentheir places--three forward, and one at the helm--he resumed theconversation. "Gaetano, " said he to the captain, "you tell me MonteCristo serves as a refuge for pirates, who are, it seems to me, a verydifferent 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 ofAlgiers, and the destruction of the regency, pirates existed only in theromances of Cooper and Captain Marryat. "

"Your excellency is mistaken; there are pirates, like the bandits whowere believed to have been exterminated by Pope Leo XII. , and who yet, every day, rob travellers at the gates of Rome. Has not your excellencyheard that the French charge d'affaires was robbed six months ago withinfive hundred paces of Velletri?"

"Oh, yes, I heard that. "

"Well, then, if, like us, your excellency lived at Leghorn, you wouldhear, from time to time, that a little merchant vessel, or an Englishyacht that was expected at Bastia, at Porto-Ferrajo, or at CivitaVecchia, 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 hasmet has been a long and narrow boat, manned by six or eight men, whohave surprised and plundered it, some dark and stormy night, near somedesert and gloomy island, as bandits plunder a carriage in the recessesof a forest. "

"But, " asked Franz, who lay wrapped in his cloak at the bottom of theboat, "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 ownboat whatever they think worth taking, then they bind the crew hand andfoot, they attach to every one's neck a four and twenty pound ball, alarge 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 settledown. First one gun'l goes under, then the other. Then they lift andsink again, and both go under at once. All at once there's a noise likea cannon--that's the air blowing up the deck. Soon the water rushesout of the scupper-holes like a whale spouting, the vessel gives a lastgroan, spins round and round, and disappears, forming a vast whirlpoolin the ocean, and then all is over, so that in five minutes nothing butthe eye of God can see the vessel where she lies at the bottom of thesea. Do you understand now, " said the captain, "why no complaints aremade to the government, and why the vessel never reaches port?"

It is probable that if Gaetano had related this previous to proposingthe expedition, Franz would have hesitated, but now that they hadstarted, he thought it would be cowardly to draw back. He was one ofthose men who do not rashly court danger, but if danger presents itself, combat it with the most unalterable coolness. Calm and resolute, hetreated any peril as he would an adversary in a duel, --calculatedits probable method of approach; retreated, if at all, as a point ofstrategy and not from cowardice; was quick to see an opening for attack, and won victory at a single thrust. "Bah!" said he, "I have travelledthrough Sicily and Calabria--I have sailed two months in theArchipelago, and yet I never saw even the shadow of a bandit or apirate. "

"I did not tell your excellency this to deter you from your project, "replied Gaetano, "but you questioned me, and I have answered; that'sall. "

"Yes, and your conversation is most interesting; and as I wish to enjoyit as long as possible, steer for Monte Cristo. "

The wind blew strongly, the boat made six or seven knots an hour, andthey were rapidly reaching the end of their voyage. As they drew nearthe island seemed to lift from the sea, and the air was so clear thatthey could already distinguish the rocks heaped on one another, likecannon balls in an arsenal, with green bushes and trees growing in thecrevices. As for the sailors, although they appeared perfectly tranquilyet it was evident that they were on the alert, and that they carefullywatched the glassy surface over which they were sailing, and on which afew fishing-boats, with their white sails, were alone visible. They werewithin fifteen miles of Monte Cristo when the sun began to set behindCorsica, whose mountains appeared against the sky, showing their ruggedpeaks in bold relief; this mass of rock, like the giant Adamastor, rosedead ahead, a formidable barrier, and intercepting the light that gildedits massive peaks so that the voyagers were in shadow. Little by littlethe shadow rose higher and seemed to drive before it the last rays ofthe expiring day; at last the reflection rested on the summit of themountain, where it paused an instant, like the fiery crest of a volcano, then gloom gradually covered the summit as it had covered the base, andthe island now only appeared to be a gray mountain that grew continuallydarker; half an hour after, the night was quite dark.

Fortunately, the mariners were used to these latitudes, and knew everyrock in the Tuscan Archipelago; for in the midst of this obscurity Franzwas not without uneasiness--Corsica had long since disappeared, andMonte Cristo itself was invisible; but the sailors seemed, like thelynx, to see in the dark, and the pilot who steered did not evince theslightest hesitation. An hour had passed since the sun had set, whenFranz 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 excitethe mirth of the sailors by mistaking a floating cloud for land, heremained silent; suddenly a great light appeared on the strand; landmight resemble a cloud, but the fire was not a meteor. "What is thislight?" 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 itserved sometimes as a harbor for smugglers. "

"And for pirates?"

"And for pirates, " returned Gaetano, repeating Franz's words. "It is forthat reason I have given orders to pass the island, for, as you see, thefire is behind us. "

"But this fire?" continued Franz. "It seems to me rather reassuring thanotherwise; men who did not wish to be seen would not light a fire. "

"Oh, that goes for nothing, " said Gaetano. "If you can guess theposition of the island in the darkness, you will see that the firecannot be seen from the side or from Pianosa, but only from the sea. "

"You think, then, this fire indicates the presence of unpleasantneighbors?"

"That is what we must find out, " returned Gaetano, fixing his eyes onthis terrestrial star.

"How can you find out?"

"You shall see. " Gaetano consulted with his companions, and after fiveminutes' discussion a manoeuvre was executed which caused the vessel totack about, they returned the way they had come, and in a few minutesthe fire disappeared, hidden by an elevation of the land. The pilotagain changed the course of the boat, which rapidly approached theisland, 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 themoment that their course was changed not a word was spoken.

Gaetano, who had proposed the expedition, had taken all theresponsibility on himself; the four sailors fixed their eyes on him, while they got out their oars and held themselves in readiness to rowaway, which, thanks to the darkness, would not be difficult. As forFranz, he examined his arms with the utmost coolness; he had twodouble-barrelled guns and a rifle; he loaded them, looked at thepriming, and waited quietly. During this time the captain had thrown offhis vest and shirt, and secured his trousers round his waist; his feetwere naked, so he had no shoes and stockings to take off; after thesepreparations he placed his finger on his lips, and lowering himselfnoiselessly into the sea, swam towards the shore with such precautionthat it was impossible to hear the slightest sound; he could onlybe traced by the phosphorescent line in his wake. This track soondisappeared; it was evident that he had touched the shore. Every one onboard remained motionless for half an hour, when the same luminous trackwas again observed, and the swimmer was soon on board. "Well?" exclaimedFranz and the sailors in unison.

"They are Spanish smugglers, " said he; "they have with them two Corsicanbandits. "

"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 hardpressed by gendarmes or carbineers; well, they see a vessel, and goodfellows like us on board, they come and demand hospitality of us; youcan't refuse help to a poor hunted devil; we receive them, and forgreater security we stand out to sea. This costs us nothing, and savesthe life, or at least the liberty, of a fellow-creature, who on thefirst occasion returns the service by pointing out some safe spot wherewe 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, smilingimpenetrably.

"Then you know the men who are now on Monte Cristo?"

"Oh, yes, we sailors are like freemasons, and recognize each other bysigns. "

"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 ofperil.

"It is not their fault that they are bandits, but that of theauthorities. "

"How so?"

"Because they are pursued for having made a stiff, as if it was not in aCorsican'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 differentthing, " returned the captain.

"Well, " said the young man, "let us demand hospitality of thesesmugglers 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 tohold 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 morethan permit, I exhort you. "

"Silence, then!" said Gaetano.

Every one obeyed. For a man who, like Franz, viewed his position inits true light, it was a grave one. He was alone in the darkness withsailors whom he did not know, and who had no reason to be devoted tohim; who knew that he had several thousand francs in his belt, and whohad often examined his weapons, --which were very beautiful, --if not withenvy, 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 affordhim much hospitality, thanks to the smugglers and bandits. The historyof the scuttled vessels, which had appeared improbable during the day, seemed very probable at night; placed as he was between two possiblesources of danger, he kept his eye on the crew, and his gun in hishand. The sailors had again hoisted sail, and the vessel was once morecleaving the waves. Through the darkness Franz, whose eyes were now moreaccustomed to it, could see the looming shore along which the boat wassailing, and then, as they rounded a rocky point, he saw the fire morebrilliant than ever, and about it five or six persons seated. The blazeillumined the sea for a hundred paces around. Gaetano skirted the light, carefully keeping the boat in the shadow; then, when they were oppositethe fire, he steered to the centre of the circle, singing a fishingsong, of which his companions sung the chorus. At the first words ofthe song the men seated round the fire arose and approached thelanding-place, their eyes fixed on the boat, evidently seeking toknow who the new-comers were and what were their intentions. They soonappeared satisfied and returned (with the exception of one, whoremained at the shore) to their fire, at which the carcass of a goat wasroasting. When the boat was within twenty paces of the shore, the man onthe beach, who carried a carbine, presented arms after the manner ofa sentinel, and cried, "Who comes there?" in Sardinian. Franz coollycocked both barrels. Gaetano then exchanged a few words with this manwhich the traveller did not understand, but which evidently concernedhim. "Will your excellency give your name, or remain incognito?" askedthe captain.

"My name must rest unknown, --merely say I am a Frenchman travelling forpleasure. " As soon as Gaetano had transmitted this answer, the sentinelgave an order to one of the men seated round the fire, who rose anddisappeared among the rocks. Not a word was spoken, every one seemedoccupied, Franz with his disembarkment, the sailors with their sails, the smugglers with their goat; but in the midst of all this carelessnessit was evident that they mutually observed each other. The man who haddisappeared returned suddenly on the opposite side to that by which hehad left; he made a sign with his head to the sentinel, who, turningto the boat, said, "S'accommodi. " The Italian s'accommodi isuntranslatable; it means at once, "Come, enter, you are welcome; makeyourself at home; you are the master. " It is like that Turkish phraseof Moliere's that so astonished the bourgeois gentleman by the number ofthings implied in its utterance. The sailors did not wait for a secondinvitation; four strokes of the oar brought them to land; Gaetano sprangto shore, exchanged a few words with the sentinel, then his comradesdisembarked, and lastly came Franz. One of his guns was swung over hisshoulder, Gaetano had the other, and a sailor held his rifle; hisdress, half artist, half dandy, did not excite any suspicion, and, consequently, no disquietude. The boat was moored to the shore, and theyadvanced a few paces to find a comfortable bivouac; but, doubtless, the spot they chose did not suit the smuggler who filled the post ofsentinel, for he cried out, "Not that way, if you please. "

Gaetano faltered an excuse, and advanced to the opposite side, whiletwo sailors kindled torches at the fire to light them on their way. They advanced about thirty paces, and then stopped at a small esplanadesurrounded with rocks, in which seats had been cut, not unlikesentry-boxes. Around in the crevices of the rocks grew a few dwarf oaksand thick bushes of myrtles. Franz lowered a torch, and saw by the massof cinders that had accumulated that he was not the first to discoverthis retreat, which was, doubtless, one of the halting-places of thewandering visitors of Monte Cristo. As for his suspicions, once onterra 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 toGaetano, who replied that nothing could be more easy than to preparea supper when they had in their boat, bread, wine, half a dozenpartridges, and a good fire to roast them by. "Besides, " added he, "ifthe smell of their roast meat tempts you, I will go and offer them twoof 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 whichthey made a fire. Franz waited impatiently, inhaling the aroma of theroasted 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 ayoung Frenchman, invites you to sup with him. "

"Well, " observed Franz, "this chief is very polite, and I see noobjection--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 hemakes one condition, and rather a peculiar one, before he will receiveyou 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 hehimself bids you. " Franz looked at Gaetano, to see, if possible, what hethought of this proposal. "Ah, " replied he, guessing Franz's thought, "Iknow 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 theysay is true"--he stopped to see if any one was near.

"What do they say?"

"That this chief inhabits a cavern to which the Pitti Palace isnothing. "

"What nonsense!" said Franz, reseating himself.

"It is no nonsense; it is quite true. Cama, the pilot of the SaintFerdinand, went in once, and he came back amazed, vowing that suchtreasures were only to be heard of in fairy tales. "

"Do you know, " observed Franz, "that with such stories you make me thinkof 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 shouldbe sorry to advise you in the matter. " Franz pondered the matter for afew moments, concluded that a man so rich could not have any intentionof plundering him of what little he had, and seeing only the prospectof a good supper, accepted. Gaetano departed with the reply. Franz wasprudent, and wished to learn all he possibly could concerning his host. He turned towards the sailor, who, during this dialogue, had sat gravelyplucking 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 wasvisible.

"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 iswhat 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 builda 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 thenspoken to any one. "

"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 twoaccounts do not agree. "

"What is his name?"

"If you ask him he says Sinbad the Sailor; but I doubt if it be his realname. "

"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 thisisland deserted, to seek for this enchanted palace?"

"Oh, yes, more than once, but always in vain; we examined the grotto allover, but we never could find the slightest trace of any opening; theysay 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 asthat 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 manwho had spoken to him. Without uttering a word, they bandaged his eyeswith a care that showed their apprehensions of his committing someindiscretion. Afterwards he was made to promise that he would not makethe least attempt to raise the bandage. He promised. Then his two guidestook his arms, and he went on, guided by them, and preceded by thesentinel. After going about thirty paces, he smelt the appetizing odorof the kid that was roasting, and knew thus that he was passing thebivouac; they then led him on about fifty paces farther, evidentlyadvancing towards that part of the shore where they would not allowGaetano to go--a refusal he could now comprehend. Presently, by a changein the atmosphere, he knew that they were entering a cave; after goingon for a few seconds more he heard a crackling, and it seemed to him asthough the atmosphere again changed, and became balmy and perfumed. Atlength his feet touched on a thick and soft carpet, and his guides letgo their hold of him. There was a moment's silence, and then a voice, inexcellent French, although, with a foreign accent, said, "Welcome, sir. I beg you will remove your bandage. " It may be supposed, then, Franzdid not wait for a repetition of this permission, but took offthe handkerchief, and found himself in the presence of a man fromthirty-eight to forty years of age, dressed in a Tunisian costume--thatis to say, a red cap with a long blue silk tassel, a vest of black clothembroidered with gold, pantaloons of deep red, large and full gaitersof the same color, embroidered with gold like the vest, and yellowslippers; he had a splendid cashmere round his waist, and a smallsharp and crooked cangiar was passed through his girdle. Although of apaleness that was almost livid, this man had a remarkably handsome face;his eyes were penetrating and sparkling; his nose, quite straight, andprojecting direct from the brow, was of the pure Greek type, whilehis teeth, as white as pearls, were set off to admiration by the blackmustache that encircled them.

His pallor was so peculiar, that it seemed to pertain to one who hadbeen long entombed, and who was incapable of resuming the healthy glowand 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 whatastonished Franz, who had treated Gaetano's description as a fable, was the splendor of the apartment in which he found himself. The entirechamber was lined with crimson brocade, worked with flowers of gold. Ina recess was a kind of divan, surmounted with a stand of Arabian swordsin silver scabbards, and the handles resplendent with gems; from theceiling hung a lamp of Venetian glass, of beautiful shape and color, while the feet rested on a Turkey carpet, in which they sunk to theinstep; tapestry hung before the door by which Franz had entered, andalso in front of another door, leading into a second apartment whichseemed to be brilliantly illuminated. The host gave Franz time torecover from his surprise, and, moreover, returned look for look, noteven taking his eyes off him. "Sir, " he said, after a pause, "a thousandexcuses for the precaution taken in your introduction hither; but as, during the greater portion of the year, this island is deserted, if thesecret of this abode were discovered. I should doubtless, find on myreturn my temporary retirement in a state of great disorder, which wouldbe exceedingly annoying, not for the loss it occasioned me, but becauseI should not have the certainty I now possess of separating myself fromall the rest of mankind at pleasure. Let me now endeavor to make youforget this temporary unpleasantness, and offer you what no doubt youdid not expect to find here--that is to say, a tolerable supper andpretty comfortable beds. "

"Ma foi, my dear sir, " replied Franz, "make no apologies. I havealways observed that they bandage people's eyes who penetrate enchantedpalaces, for instance, those of Raoul in the 'Huguenots, ' and reallyI have nothing to complain of, for what I see makes me think of thewonders of the 'Arabian Nights. '"

"Alas, I may say with Lucullus, if I could have anticipated the honor ofyour 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, ifyou will. Ali, is the supper ready?" At this moment the tapestry movedaside, 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 myopinion, but I think nothing is more annoying than to remain two orthree hours together without knowing by name or appellation how toaddress one another. Pray observe, that I too much respect the laws ofhospitality to ask your name or title. I only request you to give me oneby 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 wonderfullamp to make me precisely like Aladdin, that I see no reason why at thismoment I should not be called Aladdin. That will keep us from going awayfrom the East whither I am tempted to think I have been conveyed by somegood genius. "

"Well, then, Signor Aladdin, " replied the singular amphitryon, "youheard our repast announced, will you now take the trouble to enter thedining-room, your humble servant going first to show the way?" At thesewords, moving aside the tapestry, Sinbad preceded his guest. Franznow looked upon another scene of enchantment; the table was splendidlycovered, and once convinced of this important point he cast his eyesaround him. The dining-room was scarcely less striking than the room hehad just left; it was entirely of marble, with antique bas-reliefs ofpriceless value; and at the four corners of this apartment, which wasoblong, were four magnificent statues, having baskets in their hands. These baskets contained four pyramids of most splendid fruit; there wereSicily pine-apples, pomegranates from Malaga, oranges from the BalearicIsles, peaches from France, and dates from Tunis. The supper consistedof a roast pheasant garnished with Corsican blackbirds; a boar's hamwith jelly, a quarter of a kid with tartar sauce, a glorious turbot, and a gigantic lobster. Between these large dishes were smaller onescontaining various dainties. The dishes were of silver, and the platesof Japanese china.

Franz rubbed his eyes in order to assure himself that this was not adream. Ali alone was present to wait at table, and acquitted himselfso admirably, that the guest complimented his host thereupon. "Yes, "replied he, while he did the honors of the supper with much ease andgrace--"yes, he is a poor devil who is much devoted to me, and does allhe can to prove it. He remembers that I saved his life, and as he has aregard for his head, he feels some gratitude towards me for having keptit on his shoulders. " Ali approached his master, took his hand, andkissed it.

"Would it be impertinent, Signor Sinbad, " said Franz, "to ask you theparticulars of this kindness?"

"Oh, they are simple enough, " replied the host. "It seems the fellowhad been caught wandering nearer to the harem of the Bey of Tunis thanetiquette permits to one of his color, and he was condemned by the beyto have his tongue cut out, and his hand and head cut off; the tonguethe first day, the hand the second, and the head the third. I always hada desire to have a mute in my service, so learning the day his tonguewas cut out, I went to the bey, and proposed to give him for Ali asplendid double-barreled gun which I knew he was very desirous ofhaving. He hesitated a moment, he was so very desirous to complete thepoor devil's punishment. But when I added to the gun an English cutlasswith which I had shivered his highness's yataghan to pieces, the beyyielded, and agreed to forgive the hand and head, but on condition thatthe poor fellow never again set foot in Tunis. This was a useless clausein the bargain, for whenever the coward sees the first glimpse of theshores of Africa, he runs down below, and can only be induced to appearagain when we are out of sight of that quarter of the globe. "

Franz remained a moment silent and pensive, hardly knowing what to thinkof the half-kindness, half-cruelty, with which his host related thebrief narrative. "And like the celebrated sailor whose name you haveassumed, " he said, by way of changing the conversation, "you pass yourlife in travelling?"

"Yes. I made a vow at a time when I little thought I should ever be ableto accomplish it, " said the unknown with a singular smile; "and I madesome others also which I hope I may fulfil in due season. " AlthoughSinbad pronounced these words with much calmness, his eyes gave forthgleams 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 yousuppose so?"

"Everything, " answered Franz, --"your voice, your look, your pallidcomplexion, and even the life you lead. "

"I?--I live the happiest life possible, the real life of a pasha. I amking of all creation. I am pleased with one place, and stay there; I gettired of it, and leave it; I am free as a bird and have wings likeone; my attendants obey my slightest wish. Sometimes I amuse myself bydelivering some bandit or criminal from the bonds of the law. Then Ihave my mode of dispensing justice, silent and sure, without respite orappeal, which condemns or pardons, and which no one sees. Ah, if you hadtasted my life, you would not desire any other, and would never returnto 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 penetrateinto the depth of the heart and thoughts. "And why revenge?" he asked.

"Because, " replied Franz, "you seem to me like a man who, persecuted bysociety, has a fearful account to settle with it. "

"Ah, " responded Sinbad, laughing with his singular laugh which displayedhis white and sharp teeth. "You have not guessed rightly. Such as yousee me I am, a sort of philosopher, and one day perhaps I shall go toParis 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 youthat it is not my fault I have delayed it so long--it will happen oneday or the other. "

"And do you propose to make this journey very shortly?"

"I do not know; it depends on circumstances which depend on certainarrangements. "

"I should like to be there at the time you come, and I will endeavorto repay you, as far as lies in my power, for your liberal hospitalitydisplayed 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 theunknown scarcely touched one or two dishes of the splendid banquet towhich his guest did ample justice. Then Ali brought on the dessert, orrather took the baskets from the hands of the statues and placed them onthe table. Between the two baskets he placed a small silver cup witha silver cover. The care with which Ali placed this cup on the tableroused Franz's curiosity. He raised the cover and saw a kind of greenishpaste, something like preserved angelica, but which was perfectlyunknown to him. He replaced the lid, as ignorant of what the cupcontained as he was before he had looked at it, and then casting hiseyes towards his host he saw him smile at his disappointment. "Youcannot 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 whichHebe served at the table of Jupiter. "

"But, " replied Franz, "this ambrosia, no doubt, in passing throughmortal hands has lost its heavenly appellation and assumed a human name;in vulgar phrase, what may you term this composition, for which, to tellthe truth, I do not feel any particular desire?"

"Ah, thus it is that our material origin is revealed, " cried Sinbad; "wefrequently pass so near to happiness without seeing, without regardingit, or if we do see and regard it, yet without recognizing it. Are youa man for the substantials, and is gold your god? taste this, and themines of Peru, Guzerat, and Golconda are opened to you. Are you a manof imagination--a poet? taste this, and the boundaries of possibilitydisappear; the fields of infinite space open to you, you advance free inheart, free in mind, into the boundless realms of unfettered revery. Areyou ambitious, and do you seek after the greatnesses of the earth? tastethis, and in an hour you will be a king, not a king of a petty kingdomhidden in some corner of Europe like France, Spain, or England, but kingof the world, king of the universe, king of creation; without bowing atthe feet of Satan, you will be king and master of all the kingdoms ofthe earth. Is it not tempting what I offer you, and is it not an easything, since it is only to do thus? look!" At these words he uncoveredthe small cup which contained the substance so lauded, took ateaspoonful of the magic sweetmeat, raised it to his lips, and swallowedit slowly with his eyes half shut and his head bent backwards. Franz didnot disturb him whilst he absorbed his favorite sweetmeat, but when hehad finished, he inquired, --"What, then, is this precious stuff?"

"Did you ever hear, " he replied, "of the Old Man of the Mountain, whoattempted to assassinate Philip Augustus?"

"Of course I have. "

"Well, you know he reigned over a rich valley which was overhung by themountain whence he derived his picturesque name. In this valley weremagnificent gardens planted by Hassen-ben-Sabah, and in these gardensisolated pavilions. Into these pavilions he admitted the elect, and there, says Marco Polo, gave them to eat a certain herb, whichtransported them to Paradise, in the midst of ever-blooming shrubs, ever-ripe fruit, and ever-lovely virgins. What these happy persons tookfor 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 gaveit to them, and obedient to his orders as to those of a deity, struckdown the designated victim, died in torture without a murmur, believingthat the death they underwent was but a quick transition to that life ofdelights of which the holy herb, now before you, had given them a slightforetaste. "

"Then, " cried Franz, "it is hashish! I know that--by name at least. "

"That is it precisely, Signor Aladdin; it is hashish--the purest andmost unadulterated hashish of Alexandria, --the hashish of Abou-Gor, thecelebrated maker, the only man, the man to whom there should be built apalace, inscribed with these words, 'A grateful world to the dealer inhappiness. '"

"Do you know, " said Franz, "I have a very great inclination to judge formyself of the truth or exaggeration of your eulogies. "

"Judge for yourself, Signor Aladdin--judge, but do not confine yourselfto one trial. Like everything else, we must habituate the senses to afresh impression, gentle or violent, sad or joyous. There is a strugglein nature against this divine substance, --in nature which is not madefor joy and clings to pain. Nature subdued must yield in the combat, thedream must succeed to reality, and then the dream reigns supreme, thenthe dream becomes life, and life becomes the dream. But what changesoccur! It is only by comparing the pains of actual being with the joysof the assumed existence, that you would desire to live no longer, butto dream thus forever. When you return to this mundane sphere fromyour visionary world, you would seem to leave a Neapolitan spring for aLapland winter--to quit paradise for earth--heaven for hell! Taste thehashish, guest of mine--taste the hashish. "

Franz's only reply was to take a teaspoonful of the marvellouspreparation, about as much in quantity as his host had eaten, and liftit to his mouth. "Diable!" he said, after having swallowed the divinepreserve. "I do not know if the result will be as agreeable as youdescribe, 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 thesubstances it flavors. Tell me, the first time you tasted oysters, tea, porter, truffles, and sundry other dainties which you now adore, did youlike them? Could you comprehend how the Romans stuffed their pheasantswith assafoetida, and the Chinese eat swallows' nests? Eh? no! Well, itis the same with hashish; only eat for a week, and nothing in the worldwill seem to you to equal the delicacy of its flavor, which now appearsto you flat and distasteful. Let us now go into the adjoining chamber, which is your apartment, and Ali will bring us coffee and pipes. " Theyboth arose, and while he who called himself Sinbad--and whom we haveoccasionally named so, that we might, like his guest, have some title bywhich to distinguish him--gave some orders to the servant, Franz enteredstill another apartment. It was simply yet richly furnished. It wasround, and a large divan completely encircled it. Divan, walls, ceiling, floor, were all covered with magnificent skins as soft and downy as therichest carpets; there were heavy-maned lion-skins from Atlas, striped tiger-skins from Bengal; panther-skins from the Cape, spottedbeautifully, like those that appeared to Dante; bear-skins from Siberia, fox-skins from Norway, and so on; and all these skins were strewn inprofusion one on the other, so that it seemed like walking over the mostmossy turf, or reclining on the most luxurious bed. Both laid themselvesdown on the divan; chibouques with jasmine tubes and amber mouthpieceswere within reach, and all prepared so that there was no need to smokethe same pipe twice. Each of them took one, which Ali lighted and thenretired to prepare the coffee. There was a moment's silence, duringwhich Sinbad gave himself up to thoughts that seemed to occupy himincessantly, even in the midst of his conversation; and Franz abandonedhimself to that mute revery, into which we always sink when smokingexcellent tobacco, which seems to remove with its fume all the troublesof the mind, and to give the smoker in exchange all the visions of thesoul. Ali brought in the coffee. "How do you take it?" inquired theunknown; "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 anOriental life. Ah, those Orientals; they are the only men who know howto live. As for me, " he added, with one of those singular smiles whichdid not escape the young man, "when I have completed my affairs inParis, I shall go and die in the East; and should you wish to see meagain, you must seek me at Cairo, Bagdad, or Ispahan. "

"Ma foi, " said Franz, "it would be the easiest thing in the world; for Ifeel eagle's wings springing out at my shoulders, and with those wings Icould 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 overyou; and if your wings, like those of Icarus, melt before the sun, weare 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. Asto Franz a strange transformation had taken place in him. All the bodilyfatigue of the day, all the preoccupation of mind which the events ofthe evening had brought on, disappeared as they do at the first approachof sleep, when we are still sufficiently conscious to be aware of thecoming of slumber. His body seemed to acquire an airy lightness, hisperception brightened in a remarkable manner, his senses seemed toredouble their power, the horizon continued to expand; but it was notthe gloomy horizon of vague alarms, and which he had seen before heslept, but a blue, transparent, unbounded horizon, with all the blue ofthe ocean, all the spangles of the sun, all the perfumes of the summerbreeze; then, in the midst of the songs of his sailors, --songs so clearand sonorous, that they would have made a divine harmony had their notesbeen taken down, --he saw the Island of Monte Cristo, no longer as athreatening rock in the midst of the waves, but as an oasis in thedesert; then, as his boat drew nearer, the songs became louder, for anenchanting and mysterious harmony rose to heaven, as if some Loreley haddecreed to attract a soul thither, or Amphion, the enchanter, intendedthere 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 strainsof most delicious melody. He descended, or rather seemed to descend, several steps, inhaling the fresh and balmy air, like that which may besupposed to reign around the grotto of Circe, formed from such perfumesas set the mind a dreaming, and such fires as burn the very senses; andhe saw again all he had seen before his sleep, from Sinbad, his singularhost, to Ali, the mute attendant; then all seemed to fade away andbecome confused before his eyes, like the last shadows of the magiclantern before it is extinguished, and he was again in the chamber ofstatues, lighted only by one of those pale and antique lamps which watchin the dead of the night over the sleep of pleasure. They were thesame statues, rich in form, in attraction, and poesy, with eyes offascination, smiles of love, and bright and flowing hair. They werePhryne, Cleopatra, Messalina, those three celebrated courtesans. Thenamong them glided like a pure ray, like a Christian angel in the midstof Olympus, one of those chaste figures, those calm shadows, thosesoft visions, which seemed to veil its virgin brow before these marblewantons. Then the three statues advanced towards him with looks of love, and approached the couch on which he was reposing, their feet hidden intheir long white tunics, their throats bare, hair flowing like waves, and assuming attitudes which the gods could not resist, but which saintswithstood, and looks inflexible and ardent like those with which theserpent charms the bird; and then he gave way before looks that held himin 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 himsaw the vision of modesty completely veiled; and then followed a dreamof passion like that promised by the Prophet to the elect. Lips of stoneturned to flame, breasts of ice became like heated lava, so that toFranz, yielding for the first time to the sway of the drug, love was asorrow and voluptuousness a torture, as burning mouths were pressed tohis thirsty lips, and he was held in cool serpent-like embraces. Themore he strove against this unhallowed passion the more his sensesyielded to its thrall, and at length, weary of a struggle that taxed hisvery soul, he gave way and sank back breathless and exhausted beneaththe kisses of these marble goddesses, and the enchantment of hismarvellous dream.