Now that this treasure, which had so long been the object ofthe abbe's meditations, could insure the future happiness ofhim whom Faria really loved as a son, it had doubled itsvalue in his eyes, and every day he expatiated on theamount, explaining to Dantes all the good which, withthirteen or fourteen millions of francs, a man could do inthese days to his friends; and then Dantes' countenancebecame gloomy, for the oath of vengeance he had takenrecurred to his memory, and he reflected how much ill, inthese times, a man with thirteen or fourteen millions coulddo to his enemies.

The abbe did not know the Island of Monte Cristo; but Dantesknew it, and had often passed it, situated twenty-five milesfrom Pianosa, between Corsica and the Island of Elba, andhad once touched there. This island was, always had been,and still is, completely deserted. It is a rock of almostconical form, which looks as though it had been thrust up byvolcanic force from the depth to the surface of the ocean.Dantes drew a plan of the island for Faria, and Faria gaveDantes advice as to the means he should employ to recoverthe treasure. But Dantes was far from being as enthusiasticand confident as the old man. It was past a question nowthat Faria was not a lunatic, and the way in which he hadachieved the discovery, which had given rise to thesuspicion of his madness, increased Edmond's admiration ofhim; but at the same time Dantes could not believe that thedeposit, supposing it had ever existed, still existed; andthough he considered the treasure as by no means chimerical,he yet believed it was no longer there.

However, as if fate resolved on depriving the prisoners oftheir last chance, and making them understand that they werecondemned to perpetual imprisonment, a new misfortune befellthem; the gallery on the sea side, which had long been inruins, was rebuilt. They had repaired it completely, andstopped up with vast masses of stone the hole Dantes hadpartly filled in. But for this precaution, which, it will beremembered, the abbe had made to Edmond, the misfortunewould have been still greater, for their attempt to escapewould have been detected, and they would undoubtedly havebeen separated. Thus a new, a stronger, and more inexorablebarrier was interposed to cut off the realization of theirhopes.

"You see," said the young man, with an air of sorrowfulresignation, to Faria, "that God deems it right to take fromme any claim to merit for what you call my devotion to you.I have promised to remain forever with you, and now I couldnot break my promise if I would. The treasure will be nomore mine than yours, and neither of us will quit thisprison. But my real treasure is not that, my dear friend,which awaits me beneath the sombre rocks of Monte Cristo, itis your presence, our living together five or six hours aday, in spite of our jailers; it is the rays of intelligenceyou have elicited from my brain, the languages you haveimplanted in my memory, and which have taken root there withall their philological ramifications. These differentsciences that you have made so easy to me by the depth ofthe knowledge you possess of them, and the clearness of theprinciples to which you have reduced them - this is mytreasure, my beloved friend, and with this you have made merich and happy. Believe me, and take comfort, this is betterfor me than tons of gold and cases of diamonds, even werethey not as problematical as the clouds we see in themorning floating over the sea, which we take for terrafirma, and which evaporate and vanish as we draw near tothem. To have you as long as possible near me, to hear youreloquent speech, - which embellishes my mind, strengthensmy soul, and makes my whole frame capable of great andterrible things, if I should ever be free, - so fills mywhole existence, that the despair to which I was just on thepoint of yielding when I knew you, has no longer any holdover me; and this - this is my fortune - not chimerical,but actual. I owe you my real good, my present happiness;and all the sovereigns of the earth, even Caesar Borgiahimself, could not deprive me of this."

Thus, if not actually happy, yet the days these twounfortunates passed together went quickly. Faria, who for solong a time had kept silence as to the treasure, nowperpetually talked of it. As he had prophesied would be thecase, he remained paralyzed in the right arm and the leftleg, and had given up all hope of ever enjoying it himself.But he was continually thinking over some means of escapefor his young companion, and anticipating the pleasure hewould enjoy. For fear the letter might be some day lost orstolen, he compelled Dantes to learn it by heart; and Dantesknew it from the first to the last word. Then he destroyedthe second portion, assured that if the first were seized,no one would be able to discover its real meaning. Wholehours sometimes passed while Faria was giving instructionsto Dantes, - instructions which were to serve him when hewas at liberty. Then, once free, from the day and hour andmoment when he was so, he could have but one only thought,which was, to gain Monte Cristo by some means, and remainthere alone under some pretext which would arouse nosuspicions; and once there, to endeavor to find thewonderful caverns, and search in the appointed spot, - theappointed spot, be it remembered, being the farthest anglein the second opening.

In the meanwhile the hours passed, if not rapidly, at leasttolerably. Faria, as we have said, without having recoveredthe use of his hand and foot, had regained all the clearnessof his understanding, and had gradually, besides the moralinstructions we have detailed, taught his youthful companionthe patient and sublime duty of a prisoner, who learns tomake something from nothing. They were thus perpetuallyemployed, - Faria, that he might not see himself grow old;Dantes, for fear of recalling the almost extinct past whichnow only floated in his memory like a distant lightwandering in the night. So life went on for them as it doesfor those who are not victims of misfortune and whoseactivities glide along mechanically and tranquilly beneaththe eye of providence.

But beneath this superficial calm there were in the heart ofthe young man, and perhaps in that of the old man, manyrepressed desires, many stifled sighs, which found vent whenFaria was left alone, and when Edmond returned to his cell.One night Edmond awoke suddenly, believing that he heardsome one calling him. He opened his eyes upon utterdarkness. His name, or rather a plaintive voice whichessayed to pronounce his name, reached him. He sat up in bedand a cold sweat broke out upon his brow. Undoubtedly thecall came from Faria's dungeon. "Alas," murmured Edmond;"can it be?"

He moved his bed, drew up the stone, rushed into thepassage, and reached the opposite extremity; the secretentrance was open. By the light of the wretched and waveringlamp, of which we have spoken, Dantes saw the old man, pale,but yet erect, clinging to the bedstead. His features werewrithing with those horrible symptoms which he already knew,and which had so seriously alarmed him when he saw them forthe first time.

"Alas, my dear friend," said Faria in a resigned tone, "youunderstand, do you not, and I need not attempt to explain toyou?"

Edmond uttered a cry of agony, and, quite out of his senses,rushed towards the door, exclaiming, "Help, help!" Faria hadjust sufficient strength to restrain him.

"Silence," he said, "or you are lost. We must now only thinkof you, my dear friend, and so act as to render yourcaptivity supportable or your flight possible. It wouldrequire years to do again what I have done here, and theresults would be instantly destroyed if our jailers knew wehad communicated with each other. Besides, be assured, mydear Edmond, the dungeon I am about to leave will not longremain empty; some other unfortunate being will soon take myplace, and to him you will appear like an angel ofsalvation. Perhaps he will be young, strong, and enduring,like yourself, and will aid you in your escape, while I havebeen but a hindrance. You will no longer have half a deadbody tied to you as a drag to all your movements. At lengthprovidence has done something for you; he restores to youmore than he takes away, and it was time I should die."

Edmond could only clasp his hands and exclaim, "Oh, myfriend, my friend, speak not thus!" and then resuming allhis presence of mind, which had for a moment staggered underthis blow, and his strength, which had failed at the wordsof the old man, he said, "Oh, I have saved you once, and Iwill save you a second time!" And raising the foot of thebed, he drew out the phial, still a third filled with thered liquor.

"See," he exclaimed, "there remains still some of the magicdraught. Quick, quick! tell me what I must do this time; arethere any fresh instructions? Speak, my friend; I listen."

"There is not a hope," replied Faria, shaking his head, "butno matter; God wills it that man whom he has created, and inwhose heart he has so profoundly rooted the love of life,should do all in his power to preserve that existence,which, however painful it may be, is yet always so dear."

"Oh, yes, yes!" exclaimed Dantes; "and I tell you that Iwill save you yet."

"Well, then, try. The cold gains upon me. I feel the bloodflowing towards my brain. These horrible chills, which makemy teeth chatter and seem to dislocate my bones, begin topervade my whole frame; in five minutes the malady willreach its height, and in a quarter of an hour there will benothing 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 thesprings of life are now exhausted in me, and death," hecontinued, looking at his paralyzed arm and leg, "has buthalf its work to do. If, after having made me swallow twelvedrops instead of ten, you see that I do not recover, thenpour 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 thebed.

"And now, my dear friend," said Faria, "sole consolation ofmy wretched existence, - you whom heaven gave me somewhatlate, but still gave me, a priceless gift, and for which Iam most grateful, - at the moment of separating from youforever, I wish you all the happiness and all the prosperityyou so well deserve. My son, I bless thee!" The young mancast himself on his knees, leaning his head against the oldman's bed.

"Listen, now, to what I say in this my dying moment. Thetreasure of the Spadas exists. God grants me the boon ofvision unrestricted by time or space. I see it in the depthsof the inner cavern. My eyes pierce the inmost recesses ofthe earth, and are dazzled at the sight of so much riches.If you do escape, remember that the poor abbe, whom all theworld called mad, was not so. Hasten to Monte Cristo - avail yourself of the fortune - for you have indeedsuffered long enough." A violent convulsion attacked the oldman. Dantes raised his head and saw Faria's eyes injectedwith 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 notseparate us if you 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 insuch agony as you were before."

"Do not mistake. I suffer less because there is in me lessstrength to endure. At your age we have faith in life; it isthe privilege of youth to believe and hope, but old men seedeath more clearly. Oh, 'tis here - 'tis here - 'tis over- my sight is gone - my senses fail! Your hand, Dantes!Adieu - adieu!" And raising himself by a final effort, inwhich he summoned all his faculties, he said, - "MonteCristo, forget not Monte Cristo!" And he fell back on thebed. The crisis was terrible, and a rigid form with twistedlimbs, swollen eyelids, and lips flecked with bloody 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 abovethe bed, whence its tremulous light fell with strange andfantastic ray on the distorted countenance and motionless,stiffened body. With steady gaze he awaited confidently themoment for administering the restorative.

When he believed that the right moment had arrived, he tookthe knife, pried open the teeth, which offered lessresistance than before, counted one after the other twelvedrops, and watched; the phial contained, perhaps, twice asmuch more. He waited ten minutes, a quarter of an hour, halfan hour, - no change took place. Trembling, his hair erect,his brow bathed with perspiration, he counted the seconds bythe beating of his heart. Then he thought it was time tomake the last trial, and he put the phial to the purple lipsof Faria, and without having occasion to force open hisjaws, which had remained extended, he poured the whole ofthe liquid down his throat.

The draught produced a galvanic effect, a violent tremblingpervaded the old man's limbs, his eyes opened until it wasfearful to gaze upon them, he heaved a sigh which resembleda shriek, and then his convulsed body returned gradually toits former immobility, the eyes remaining open.

Half an hour, an hour, an hour and a half elapsed, andduring this period of anguish, Edmond leaned over hisfriend, his hand applied to his heart, and felt the bodygradually grow cold, and the heart's pulsation become moreand more deep and dull, until at length it stopped; the lastmovement of the heart ceased, the face became livid, theeyes remained open, but the eyeballs were glazed. It was sixo'clock in the morning, the dawn was just breaking, and itsfeeble ray came into the dungeon, and paled the ineffectuallight of the lamp. Strange shadows passed over thecountenance of the dead man, and at times gave it theappearance of life. While the struggle between day and nightlasted, Dantes still doubted; but as soon as the daylightgained the pre-eminence, he saw that he was alone with acorpse. Then an invincible and extreme terror seized uponhim, and he dared not again press the hand that hung out ofbed, he dared no longer to gaze on those fixed and vacanteyes, which he tried many times to close, but in vain - they opened again as soon as shut. He extinguished the lamp,carefully concealed it, and then went away, closing as wellas he could the entrance to the secret passage by the largestone as he descended.

It was time, for the jailer was coming. On this occasion hebegan his rounds at Dantes' cell, and on leaving him he wenton to Faria's dungeon, taking thither breakfast and somelinen. Nothing betokened that the man know anything of whathad occurred. He went on his way.

Dantes was then seized with an indescribable desire to knowwhat was going on in the dungeon of his unfortunate friend.He therefore returned by the subterraneous gallery, andarrived in time to hear the exclamations of the turnkey, whocalled out for help. Other turnkeys came, and then was heardthe regular tramp of soldiers. Last of all came thegovernor.

Edmond heard the creaking of the bed as they moved thecorpse, heard the voice of the governor, who asked them tothrow water on the dead man's face; and seeing that, inspite of this application, the prisoner did not recover,they sent for the doctor. The governor then went out, andwords of pity fell on Dantes' listening ears, mingled withbrutal laughter.

"Well, well," said one, "the madman has gone to look afterhis treasure. Good journey to him!"

"With all his millions, he will not have enough to pay forhis shroud!" said another.

"Oh," added a third voice, "the shrouds of the Chateau d'Ifare not dear!"

"Perhaps," said one of the previous speakers, "as he was achurchman, 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 ofwhat was said. The voices soon ceased, and it seemed to himas if every one had left the cell. Still he dared not toenter, as they might have left some turnkey to watch thedead. He remained, therefore, mute and motionless, hardlyventuring to breathe. At the end of an hour, he heard afaint noise, which increased. It was the governor whoreturned, followed by the doctor and other attendants. Therewas a moment's silence, - it was evident that the doctorwas examining the dead body. The inquiries soon commenced.

The doctor analyzed the symptoms of the malady to which theprisoner had succumbed, and declared that he was dead.Questions and answers followed in a nonchalant manner thatmade Dantes indignant, for he felt that all the world shouldhave for the poor abbe a love and respect equal to his own.

"I am very sorry for what you tell me," said the governor,replying to the assurance of the doctor, "that the old manis really dead; for he was a quiet, inoffensive prisoner,happy in his folly, and required no watching."

"Ah," added the turnkey, "there was no occasion for watchinghim: he would have stayed here fifty years, I'll answer forit, without any attempt to escape."

"Still," said the governor, "I believe it will be requisite,notwithstanding your certainty, and not that I doubt yourscience, but in discharge of my official duty, that weshould be perfectly assured that the prisoner is dead."There was a moment of complete silence, during which Dantes,still listening, knew that the doctor was examining thecorpse a second time.

"You may make your mind easy," said the doctor; "he is dead.I will answer for that."

"You know, sir," said the governor, persisting, "that we arenot content in such cases as this with such a simpleexamination. In spite of all appearances, be so kind,therefore, as to finish your duty by fulfilling theformalities described by law."

"Let the irons be heated," said the doctor; "but really itis a useless precaution." This order to heat the irons madeDantes shudder. He heard hasty steps, the creaking of adoor, people going and coming, and some minutes afterwards aturnkey entered, saying, -

"Here is the brazier, lighted." There was a moment'ssilence, and then was heard the crackling of burning flesh,of which the peculiar and nauseous smell penetrated evenbehind the wall where Dantes was listening in horror. Theperspiration poured forth upon the young man's brow, and hefelt as if he should faint.

"You see, sir, he is really dead," said the doctor; "thisburn in the heel is decisive. The poor fool is cured of hisfolly, and delivered from his captivity."

"Wasn't his name Faria?" inquired one of the officers whoaccompanied the governor.

"Yes, sir; and, as he said, it was an ancient name. He was,too, very learned, and rational enough on all points whichdid not relate to his treasure; but on that, indeed, he wasintractable."

"It is the sort of malady which we call monomania," said thedoctor.

"You had never anything to complain of?" said the governorto the jailer who had charge of the abbe.

"Never, sir," replied the jailer, "never; on the contrary,he sometimes amused me very much by telling me stories. Oneday, too, when my wife was ill, he gave me a prescriptionwhich cured her."

"Ah, ah!" said the doctor, "I did not know that I had arival; but I hope, governor, that you will show him allproper respect."

"Yes, yes, make your mind easy, he shall be decentlyinterred in the newest sack we can find. Will that satisfyyou?"

"Must this last formality take place in your presence, sir?"inquired a turnkey.

"Certainly. But make haste - I cannot stay here all day."Other footsteps, going and coming, were now heard, and amoment afterwards the noise of rustling canvas reachedDantes' ears, the bed creaked, and the heavy footfall of aman who lifts a weight sounded on the floor; then the bedagain 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 ofthe chateau came to me yesterday to beg for leave ofabsence, in order to take a trip to Hyeres for a week. Itold him I would attend to the prisoners in his absence. Ifthe poor abbe had not been in such a hurry, he might havehad his requiem."

"Pooh, pooh;" said the doctor, with the impiety usual inpersons of his profession; "he is a churchman. God willrespect his profession, and not give the devil the wickeddelight of sending him a priest." A shout of laughterfollowed this brutal jest. Meanwhile the operation ofputting the 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 werealive - that is all." Then the steps retreated, and thevoices died away in the distance; the noise of the door,with its creaking hinges and bolts ceased, and a silencemore sombre than that of solitude ensued, - the silence ofdeath, which was all-pervasive, and struck its icy chill tothe very soul of Dantes. Then he raised the flag-stonecautiously with his head, and looked carefully around thechamber. It was empty, and Dantes emerged from the tunnel.