"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 giveyou, that you will never let any one know that it was I whosupplied them; for the persons of whom I am about to talkare rich and powerful, and if they only laid the tips oftheir fingers on me, I should break to pieces like glass."

"Make yourself easy, my friend," replied the abbe. "I am apriest, and confessions die in my breast. Recollect, ouronly desire is to carry out, in a fitting manner, the lastwishes of our friend. Speak, then, without reserve, aswithout hatred; tell the truth, the whole truth; I do notknow, never may know, the persons of whom you are about tospeak; besides, I am an Italian, and not a Frenchman, andbelong to God, and not to man, and I shall shortly retire tomy convent, which I have only quitted to fulfil the lastwishes of a dying man." This positive assurance seemed togive Caderousse a little courage.

"Well, then, under these circumstances," said Caderousse, "Iwill, I even believe I ought to undeceive you as to thefriendship which poor Edmond thought so sincere andunquestionable."

"Begin with his father, if you please." said the abbe;"Edmond talked to me a great deal about the old man for whomhe had the deepest love."

"The history is a sad one, sir," said Caderousse, shakinghis head; "perhaps you know all the earlier part of it?"

"Yes." answered the abbe; "Edmond related to me everythinguntil the moment when he was arrested in a small cabaretclose to Marseilles."

"At La Reserve! Oh, yes; I can see it all before me thismoment."

"Was it not his betrothal feast?"

"It was and the feast that began so gayly had a verysorrowful ending; a police commissary, followed by foursoldiers, entered, and Dantes was arrested."

"Yes, and up to this point I know all," said the priest."Dantes himself only knew that which personally concernedhim, for he never beheld again the five persons I have namedto you, or heard mention of any one of them."

"Well, when Dantes was arrested, Monsieur Morrel hastened toobtain the particulars, and they were very sad. The old manreturned alone to his home, folded up his wedding suit withtears in his eyes, and paced up and down his chamber thewhole day, and would not go to bed at all, for I wasunderneath him and heard him walking the whole night; andfor myself, I assure you I could not sleep either, for thegrief of the poor father gave me great uneasiness, and everystep he took went to my heart as really as if his foot hadpressed against my breast. The next day Mercedes came toimplore the protection of M. de Villefort; she did notobtain it, however, and went to visit the old man; when shesaw him so miserable and heart-broken, having passed asleepless night, and not touched food since the previousday, she wished him to go with her that she might take careof him; but the old man would not consent. `No,' was the oldman's reply, `I will not leave this house, for my poor dearboy loves me better than anything in the world; and if hegets out of prison he will come and see me the first thing,and what would he think if I did not wait here for him?' Iheard all this from the window, for I was anxious thatMercedes should persuade the old man to accompany her, forhis footsteps over my head night and day did not leave me amoment's repose."

"But did you not go up-stairs and try to console the poorold man?" asked the abbe.

"Ah, sir," replied Caderousse, "we cannot console those whowill not be consoled, and he was one of these; besides, Iknow not why, but he seemed to dislike seeing me. One night,however, I heard his sobs, and I could not resist my desireto go up to him, but when I reached his door he was nolonger weeping but praying. I cannot now repeat to you, sir,all the eloquent words and imploring language he made useof; it was more than piety, it was more than grief, and I,who am no canter, and hate the Jesuits, said then to myself,`It is really well, and I am very glad that I have not anychildren; for if I were a father and felt such excessivegrief as the old man does, and did not find in my memory orheart all he is now saying, I should throw myself into thesea at once, for I could not bear it.'"

"Poor father!" murmured the priest.

"From day to day he lived on alone, and more and moresolitary. M. Morrel and Mercedes came to see him, but hisdoor was closed; and, although I was certain he was at home,he would not make any answer. One day, when, contrary to hiscustom, he had admitted Mercedes, and the poor girl, inspite of her own grief and despair, endeavored to consolehim, he said to her, - `Be assured, my dear daughter, he isdead; and instead of expecting him, it is he who is awaitingus; I am quite happy, for I am the oldest, and of courseshall see him first.' However well disposed a person may be,why you see we leave off after a time seeing persons who arein sorrow, they make one melancholy; and so at last oldDantes was left all to himself, and I only saw from time totime strangers go up to him and come down again with somebundle they tried to hide; but I guessed what these bundleswere, and that he sold by degrees what he had to pay for hissubsistence. At length the poor old fellow reached the endof all he had; he owed three quarters' rent, and theythreatened to turn him out; he begged for another week,which was granted to him. I know this, because the landlordcame into my apartment when he left his. For the first threedays I heard him walking about as usual, but, on the fourthI heard nothing. I then resolved to go up to him at allrisks. The door was closed, but I looked through thekeyhole, and saw him so pale and haggard, that believing himvery ill, I went and told M. Morrel and then ran on toMercedes. They both came immediately, M. Morrel bringing adoctor, and the doctor said it was inflammation of thebowels, and ordered him a limited diet. I was there, too,and I never shall forget the old man's smile at thisprescription. From that time he received all who came; hehad an excuse for not eating any more; the doctor had puthim on a diet." The abbe uttered a kind of groan. "The storyinterests 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 shewas even more anxious than before to have him taken to herown home. This was M. Morrel's wish also, who would fainhave conveyed the old man against his consent; but the oldman resisted, and cried so that they were actuallyfrightened. Mercedes remained, therefore, by his bedside,and M. Morrel went away, making a sign to the Catalan thathe had left his purse on the chimney-piece. But availinghimself of the doctor's order, the old man would not takeany sustenance; at length (after nine days of despair andfasting), the old man died, cursing those who had caused hismisery, and saying to Mercedes, `If you ever see my Edmondagain, tell him I die blessing him.'" The abbe rose from hischair, made two turns round the chamber, and pressed histrembling hand against his parched throat. "And you believehe died" -

"Of hunger, sir, of hunger," said Caderousse. "I am ascertain of it as that we two are Christians."

The abbe, with a shaking hand, seized a glass of water thatwas standing by him half-full, swallowed it at one gulp, andthen resumed his seat, with red eyes and pale cheeks. "Thiswas, indeed, a horrid event." said he 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 in an almost menacing tone, "you have promised totell me everything. Tell me, therefore, who are these menwho killed the son with despair, and the father withfamine?"

"Two men jealous of him, sir; one from love, and the otherfrom ambition, - 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 realdelinquent?"

"Both, sir; one with a letter, and the other put it in thepost."

"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 lefthand, that his writing might not be recognized, and Fernandwho put it in the post."

"But," exclaimed the abbe suddenly, "you were thereyourself."

"I!" said Caderousse, astonished; "who told you I wasthere?"

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 an eye-witness."

"True, true!" said Caderousse in a choking voice, "I wasthere."

"And did you not remonstrate against such infamy?" asked theabbe; "if not, you were an accomplice."

"Sir," replied Caderousse, "they had made me drink to suchan excess that I nearly lost all perception. I had only anindistinct understanding of what was passing around me. Isaid all that a man in such a state could say; but they bothassured me that it was a jest they were carrying on, andperfectly harmless."

"Next day - next day, sir, you must have seen plain enoughwhat they had been doing, yet you said nothing, though youwere present when Dantes was arrested."

"Yes, sir, I was there, and very anxious to speak; butDanglars restrained me. `If he should really be guilty,'said he, `and did really put in to the Island of Elba; if heis really charged with a letter for the Bonapartistcommittee at Paris, and if they find this letter upon him,those who have supported him will pass for his accomplices.'I confess I had my fears, in the state in which politicsthen were, and I held 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 menight and day. I often ask pardon of God, I swear to you,because this action, the only one with which I haveseriously to reproach myself in all my life, is no doubt thecause of my abject condition. I am expiating a moment ofselfishness, and so I always say to La Carconte, when shecomplains, `Hold your tongue, woman; it is the will ofGod.'" And Caderousse bowed his head with every sign of realrepentance.

"Well, sir," said the abbe, "you have spoken unreservedly;and thus to accuse 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 saythe dead know everything." There was a brief silence; theabbe rose and paced up and down pensively, and then resumedhis seat. "You have two or three times 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 theabbe.

"The part of an honest man, full of courage and real regard.Twenty times he interceded for Edmond. When the emperorreturned, he wrote, implored, threatened, and soenergetically, that on the second restoration he waspersecuted as a Bonapartist. Ten times, as I told you, hecame to see Dantes' father, and offered to receive him inhis own house; and the night or two before his death, as Ihave already said, he left his purse on the mantelpiece,with which they paid the old man's debts, and buried himdecently; and so Edmond's father died, as he had lived,without doing harm to any one. I have the purse still by me- 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 isalmost at the point of dishonor."

"How?"

"Yes," continued Caderousse, "so it is; after five andtwenty years of labor, after having acquired a mosthonorable name in the trade of Marseilles, M. Morrel isutterly ruined; he has lost five ships in two years, hassuffered by the bankruptcy of three large houses, and hisonly hope now is in that very Pharaon which poor Dantescommanded, and which is expected from the Indies with acargo of cochineal and indigo. If this ship founders, likethe others, he is a ruined man."

"And has the unfortunate man wife or children?" inquired theabbe.

"Yes, he has a wife, who through everything has behaved likean angel; he has a daughter, who was about to marry the manshe loved, but whose family now will not allow him to wedthe daughter of a ruined man; he has, besides, a son, alieutenant 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 therewould be an end."

"Horrible!" ejaculated the priest.

"And it is thus heaven recompenses virtue, sir," addedCaderousse. "You see, I, who never did a bad action but thatI have told you of - am in destitution, with my poor wifedying of fever before my very eyes, and I unable to doanything in the world for her; I shall die of hunger, as oldDantes did, while Fernand and Danglars are rolling inwealth."

"How is that?"

"Because their deeds have brought them good fortune, whilehonest men have been reduced to misery."

"What has become of Danglars, the instigator, and thereforethe most guilty?"

"What has become of him? Why, he left Marseilles, and wastaken, on the recommendation of M. Morrel, who did not knowhis crime, as cashier into a Spanish bank. During the warwith Spain he was employed in the commissariat of the Frencharmy, and made a fortune; then with that money he speculatedin the funds, and trebled or quadrupled his capital; and,having first married his banker's daughter, who left him awidower, he has married a second time, a widow, a Madame deNargonne, daughter of M. de Servieux, the king'schamberlain, who is in high favor at court. He is amillionaire, and they have made him a baron, and now he isthe Baron Danglars, with a fine residence in the Rue deMont-Blanc, with ten horses in his stables, six footmen inhis ante-chamber, and I know not how many millions in hisstrongbox."

"Ah!" said the abbe, in a peculiar tone, "he is happy."

"Happy? Who can answer for that? Happiness or unhappiness isthe secret known but to one's self and the walls - wallshave ears but no tongue; but if a large fortune produceshappiness, Danglars is happy."

"And Fernand?"

"Fernand? Why, much the same story."

"But how could a poor Catalan fisher-boy, without educationor resources, make a fortune? I confess this staggers me."

"And it has staggered everybody. There must have been in hislife some strange secret that no one knows."

"But, then, by what visible steps has he attained this highfortune or high position?"

"Both, sir - he has both fortune and position - both."

"This must be impossible!"

"It would seem so; but listen, and you will understand. Somedays before the return of the emperor, Fernand was drafted.The Bourbons left him quietly enough at the Catalans, butNapoleon returned, a special levy was made, and Fernand wascompelled to join. I went too; but as I was older thanFernand, and had just married my poor wife, I was only sentto the coast. Fernand was enrolled in the active troop, wentto the frontier with his regiment, and was at the battle ofLigny. The night after that battle he was sentry at the doorof a general who carried on a secret correspondence with theenemy. That same night the general was to go over to theEnglish. He proposed to Fernand to accompany him; Fernandagreed to do so, deserted his post, and followed thegeneral. Fernand would have been court-martialed if Napoleonhad remained on the throne, but his action was rewarded bythe Bourbons. He returned to France with the epaulet ofsub-lieutenant, and as the protection of the general, who isin the highest favor, was accorded to him, he was a captainin 1823, during the Spanish war - that is to say, at thetime when Danglars made his early speculations. Fernand wasa Spaniard, and being sent to Spain to ascertain the feelingof his fellow-countrymen, found Danglars there, got on veryintimate terms with him, won over the support of theroyalists at the capital and in the provinces, receivedpromises and made pledges on his own part, guided hisregiment by paths known to himself alone through themountain gorges which were held by the royalists, and, infact, rendered such services in this brief campaign that,after the taking of Trocadero, he was made colonel, andreceived the title of count and the cross of an officer ofthe Legion of Honor."

"Destiny! destiny!" murmured the abbe.

"Yes, but listen: this was not all. The war with Spain beingended, Fernand's career was checked by the long peace whichseemed likely to endure throughout Europe. Greece only hadrisen against Turkey, and had begun her war of independence;all eyes were turned towards Athens - it was the fashion topity and support the Greeks. The French government, withoutprotecting them openly, as you know, gave countenance tovolunteer assistance. Fernand sought and obtained leave togo and serve in Greece, still having his name kept on thearmy roll. Some time after, it was stated that the Comte deMorcerf (this was the name he bore) had entered the serviceof Ali Pasha with the rank of instructor-general. Ali Pashawas killed, as you know, but before he died he recompensedthe services of Fernand by leaving him a considerable sum,with which he returned to France, when he was gazettedlieutenant-general."

"So that now?" - inquired the abbe.

"So that now," continued Caderousse, "he owns a magnificenthouse - No. 27, Rue du Helder, Paris." The abbe opened hismouth, hesitated for a moment, then, making an effort atself-control, he said, "And Mercedes - they tell me thatshe has disappeared?"

"Disappeared," said Caderousse, "yes, as the sun disappears,to rise the next day with still more splendor."

"Has she made a fortune also?" inquired the abbe, with anironical smile.

"Mercedes is at this moment one of the greatest ladies inParis," replied Caderousse.

"Go on," said the abbe; "it seems as if I were listening tothe story of a dream. But I have seen things soextraordinary, that what you tell me seems less astonishingthan it otherwise might."

"Mercedes was at first in the deepest despair at the blowwhich deprived her of Edmond. I have told you of herattempts to propitiate M. de Villefort, her devotion to theelder Dantes. In the midst of her despair, a new afflictionovertook her. This was the departure of Fernand - ofFernand, whose crime she did not know, and whom she regardedas her brother. Fernand went, and Mercedes remained alone.Three months passed and still she wept - no news of Edmond,no news of Fernand, no companionship save that of an old manwho was dying with despair. One evening, after a day ofaccustomed vigil at the angle of two roads leading toMarseilles from the Catalans, she returned to her home moredepressed than ever. Suddenly she heard a step she knew,turned anxiously around, the door opened, and Fernand,dressed in the uniform of a sub-lieutenant, stood beforeher. It was not the one she wished for most, but it seemedas if a part of her past life had returned to her. Mercedesseized Fernand's hands with a transport which he took forlove, but which was only joy at being no longer alone in theworld, and seeing at last a friend, after long hours ofsolitary sorrow. And then, it must be confessed, Fernand hadnever been hated - he was only not precisely loved. Anotherpossessed all Mercedes' heart; that other was absent, haddisappeared, perhaps was dead. At this last thought Mercedesburst into a flood of tears, and wrung her hands in agony;but the thought, which she had always repelled before whenit was suggested to her by another, came now in full forceupon her mind; and then, too, old Dantes incessantly said toher, `Our Edmond is dead; if he were not, he would return tous.' The old man died, as I have told you; had he lived,Mercedes, perchance, had not become the wife of another, forhe would have been there to reproach her infidelity. Fernandsaw this, and when he learned of the old man's death hereturned. He was now a lieutenant. At his first coming hehad not said a word of love to Mercedes; at the second hereminded her that he loved her. Mercedes begged for sixmonths more in which to await and mourn for Edmond."

"So that," said the abbe, with a bitter smile, "that makeseighteen months in all. What more could the most devotedlover desire?" Then he murmured the words of the Englishpoet, "`Frailty, thy name is woman.'"

"Six months afterwards," continued Caderousse, "the marriagetook place in the church of Accoules."

"The very church in which she was to have married Edmond,"murmured the priest; "there was only a change ofbride-grooms."

"Well, Mercedes was married," proceeded Caderousse; "butalthough in the eyes of the world she appeared calm, shenearly fainted as she passed La Reserve, where, eighteenmonths before, the betrothal had been celebrated with himwhom she might have known she still loved had she looked tothe bottom of her heart. Fernand, more happy, but not moreat his ease - for I saw at this time he was in constantdread of Edmond's return - Fernand was very anxious to gethis wife away, and to depart himself. There were too manyunpleasant possibilities associated with the Catalans, andeight days after the wedding they left Marseilles."

"Did you ever see Mercedes again?" inquired the priest.

"Yes, during the Spanish war, at Perpignan, where Fernandhad left her; she was attending to the education of herson." The abbe started. "Her son?" said he.

"Yes," replied Caderousse, "little Albert."

"But, then, to be able to instruct her child," continued theabbe, "she must have received an education herself. Iunderstood from Edmond that she was the daughter of a simplefisherman, beautiful but uneducated."

"Oh," replied Caderousse, "did he know so little of hislovely betrothed? Mercedes might have been a queen, sir, ifthe crown were to be placed on the heads of the loveliestand most intelligent. Fernand's fortune was already waxinggreat, and she developed with his growing fortune. Shelearned drawing, music - everything. Besides, I believe,between ourselves, she did this in order to distract hermind, that she might forget; and she only filled her head inorder to alleviate the weight on her heart. But now herposition in life is assured," continued Caderousse; "nodoubt fortune and honors have comforted her; she is rich, acountess, 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 myold friends would, perhaps, assist me. So I went toDanglars, who would not even receive me. I called onFernand, 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 fiveand twenty louis; I raised my head quickly, and sawMercedes, who at once shut the blind."

"And M. de Villefort?" asked the abbe.

"Oh, he never was a friend of mine, I did not know him, andI had nothing to ask of him."

"Do you not know what became of him, and the share he had inEdmond's misfortunes?"

"No; I only know that some time after Edmond's arrest, hemarried Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran, and soon after leftMarseilles; no doubt he has been as lucky as the rest; nodoubt he is as rich as Danglars, as high in station asFernand. I only, as you see, have remained poor, wretched,and forgotten."

"You are mistaken, my friend," replied the abbe; "God mayseem sometimes to forget for a time, while his justicereposes, but there always comes a moment when he remembers- and behold - a proof!" As he spoke, the abbe took thediamond 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 jestwith me!"

"This diamond was to have been shared among his friends.Edmond had one friend only, and thus it cannot be divided.Take the diamond, then, and sell it; it is worth fiftythousand francs, and I repeat my wish that this sum maysuffice to release you from your wretchedness."

"Oh, sir," said Caderousse, putting out one hand timidly,and with the other wiping away the perspiration whichbedewed his brow, - "Oh, sir, do not make a jest of thehappiness or despair of a man."

"I know what happiness and what despair are, and I nevermake a jest of such feelings. Take it, then, but in exchange- "

Caderousse, who touched the diamond, withdrew his hand. Theabbe smiled. "In exchange," he continued, "give me the redsilk purse that M. Morrel left on old Dantes' chimney-piece,and which you tell me is still in your hands." Caderousse,more and more astonished, went toward a large oakencupboard, opened it, and gave the abbe a long purse of fadedred silk, round which were two copper runners that had oncebeen gilt. The abbe took it, and in return gave Caderoussethe diamond.

"Oh, you are a man of God, sir," cried Caderousse; "for noone knew that Edmond had given you this diamond, and youmight have kept it."

"Which," said the abbe to himself, "you would have done."The abbe rose, took his hat and gloves. "Well," he said,"all you have told me is perfectly true, then, and I maybelieve it in every particular."

"See, sir," replied Caderousse, "in this corner is acrucifix in holy wood - here on this shelf is my wife'stestament; open this book, and I will swear upon it with myhand on the crucifix. I will swear to you by my soul'ssalvation, my faith as a Christian, I have told everythingto you as it occurred, and as the recording angel will tellit to the ear of God at the day of the last judgment!"

"'Tis well," said the abbe, convinced by his manner and tonethat Caderousse spoke the truth. "'Tis well, and may thismoney profit you! Adieu; I go far from men who thus sobitterly injure each other." The abbe with difficulty gotaway from the enthusiastic thanks of Caderousse, opened thedoor himself, got out and mounted his horse, once moresaluted the innkeeper, who kept uttering his loud farewells,and then returned by the road he had travelled in coming.When Caderousse turned around, he saw behind him LaCarconte, paler and trembling more than ever. "Is, then, allthat I have heard really true?" she inquired.

"What? That he has given the diamond to us only?" inquiredCaderousse, half bewildered with joy; "yes, nothing moretrue! See, here it is." The woman gazed at it a moment, andthen said, in a gloomy voice, "Suppose it'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 ofsuch an idea. "Oh!" he said, taking up his hat, which heplaced on the red handkerchief tied round his head, "we willsoon find out."

"In what way?"

"Why, the fair is on at Beaucaire, there are alwaysjewellers from Paris there, and I will show it to them. Lookafter the house, wife, and I shall be back in two hours,"and Caderousse left the house in haste, and ran rapidly inthe direction opposite to that which the priest had taken."Fifty thousand francs!" muttered La Carconte when leftalone; "it is a large sum of money, but it is not afortune."