Caderousse continued to call piteously, "Help, reverend sir,help!"

"What is the matter?" asked Monte Cristo.

"Help," cried Caderousse; "I am murdered!"

"We are here; - take courage."

"Ah, it's all over! You are come too late - you are come tosee me die. What blows, what blood!" He fainted. Ali and hismaster conveyed the wounded man into a room. Monte Cristomotioned to Ali to undress him, and he then examined hisdreadful wounds. "My God!" he exclaimed, "thy vengeance issometimes delayed, but only that it may fall the moreeffectually." Ali looked at his master for furtherinstructions. "Bring here immediately the king's attorney,M. de Villefort, who lives in the Faubourg St. Honore. Asyou pass the lodge, wake the porter, and send him for asurgeon." Ali obeyed, leaving the abbe alone withCaderousse, who had not yet revived.

When the wretched man again opened his eyes, the countlooked at him with a mournful expression of pity, and hislips moved as if in prayer. "A surgeon, reverend sir - asurgeon!" said Caderousse.

"I have sent for one," replied the abbe.

"I know he cannot save my life, but he may strengthen me togive my evidence."

"Against whom?"

"Against my murderer."

"Did you recognize him?"

"Yes; it was Benedetto."

"The young Corsican?"

"Himself."

"Your comrade?"

"Yes. After giving me the plan of this house, doubtlesshoping I should kill the count and he thus become his heir,or that the count would kill me and I should be out of hisway, he waylaid me, and has murdered me."

"I have also sent for the procureur."

"He will not come in time; I feel my life fast ebbing."

"Wait a moment," said Monte Cristo. He left the room, andreturned in five minutes with a phial. The dying man's eyeswere all the time riveted on the door, through which hehoped succor would arrive. "Hasten, reverend sir, hasten! Ishall faint again!" Monte Cristo approached, and dropped onhis purple lips three or four drops of the contents of thephial. Caderousse drew a deep breath. "Oh," said he, "thatis life to me; more, more!"

"Two drops more would kill you," replied the abbe.

"Oh, send for some one to whom I can denounce the wretch!"

"Shall I write your deposition? You can sign it."

"Yes yes," said Caderousse; and his eyes glistened at thethought of this posthumous revenge. Monte Cristo wrote: -

"I die, murdered by the Corsican Benedetto, my comrade inthe galleys at Toulouse, No. 59."

"Quick, quick!" said Caderousse, "or I shall be unable tosign it."

Monte Cristo gave the pen to Caderousse, who collected allhis strength, signed it, and fell back on his bed, saying:"You will relate all the rest, reverend sir; you will say hecalls himself Andrea Cavalcanti. He lodges at the Hotel desPrinces. Oh, I am dying!" He again fainted. The abbe madehim smell the contents of the phial, and he again opened hiseyes. His desire for revenge had not forsaken him.

"Ah, you will tell all I have said, will you not, reverendsir?"

"Yes, and much more."

"What more will you say?"

"I will say he had doubtless given you the plan of thishouse, in the hope the count would kill you. I will say,likewise, he had apprised the count, by a note, of yourintention, and, the count being absent, I read the note andsat up to await you."

"And he will be guillotined, will be not?" said Caderousse."Promise me that, and I will die with that hope."

"I will say," continued the count, "that he followed andwatched you the whole time, and when he saw you leave thehouse, ran to the angle of the wall to conceal himself."

"Did you see all that?"

"Remember my words: `If you return home safely, I shallbelieve God has forgiven you, and I will forgive you also.'"

"And you did not warn me!" cried Caderousse, raising himselfon his elbows. "You knew I should be killed on leaving thishouse, and did not warn me!"

"No; for I saw God's justice placed in the hands ofBenedetto, and should have thought it sacrilege to opposethe designs of providence."

"God's justice! Speak not of it, reverend sir. If God werejust, you know how many would be punished who now escape."

"Patience," said the abbe, in a tone which made the dyingman shudder; "have patience!" Caderousse looked at him withamazement. "Besides," said the abbe, "God is merciful toall, as he has been to you; he is first a father, then ajudge."

"Do you then believe in God?" said Caderousse.

"Had I been so unhappy as not to believe in him until now,"said Monte Cristo, "I must believe on seeing you."Caderousse raised his clinched hands towards heaven.

"Listen," said the abbe, extending his hand over the woundedman, as if to command him to believe; "this is what the Godin whom, on your death-bed, you refuse to believe, has donefor you - he gave you health, strength, regular employment,even friends - a life, in fact, which a man might enjoywith a calm conscience. Instead of improving these gifts,rarely granted so abundantly, this has been your course - you have given yourself up to sloth and drunkenness, and ina fit of intoxication have ruined your best friend."

"Help!" cried Caderousse; "I require a surgeon, not apriest; perhaps I am not mortally wounded - I may not die;perhaps they can yet save my life."

"Your wounds are so far mortal that, without the three dropsI gave you, you would now be dead. Listen, then."

"Ah," murmured Caderousse, "what a strange priest you are;you drive the dying to despair, instead of consoling them."

"Listen," continued the abbe. "When you had betrayed yourfriend God began not to strike, but to warn you. Povertyovertook you. You had already passed half your life incoveting that which you might have honorably acquired; andalready you contemplated crime under the excuse of want,when God worked a miracle in your behalf, sending you, by myhands, a fortune - brilliant, indeed, for you, who hadnever possessed any. But this unexpected, unhoped-for,unheard-of fortune sufficed you no longer when you oncepossessed it; you wished to double it, and how? - by amurder! You succeeded, and then God snatched it from you,and brought you to justice."

"It was not I who wished to kill the Jew," said Caderousse;"it was La Carconte."

"Yes," said Monte Cristo, "and God, - I cannot say injustice, for his justice would have slain you, - but God,in his mercy, spared your life."

"Pardieu, to transport me for life, how merciful!"

"You thought it a mercy then, miserable wretch! The cowardwho feared death rejoiced at perpetual disgrace; for likeall galley-slaves, you said, `I may escape from prison, Icannot from the grave.' And you said truly; the way wasopened for you unexpectedly. An Englishman visited Toulon,who had vowed to rescue two men from infamy, and his choicefell on you and your companion. You received a secondfortune, money and tranquillity were restored to you, andyou, who had been condemned to a felon's life, might live asother men. Then, wretched creature, then you tempted God athird time. `I have not enough,' you said, when you had morethan you before possessed, and you committed a third crime,without reason, without excuse. God is wearied; he haspunished you." Caderousse was fast sinking. "Give me drink,"said he: "I thirst - I burn!" Monte Cristo gave him a glassof water. "And yet that villain, Benedetto, will escape!"

"No one, I tell you, will escape; Benedetto will bepunished."

"Then, you, too, will be punished, for you did not do yourduty as a priest - you should have prevented Benedetto fromkilling me."

"I?" said the count, with a smile which petrified the dyingman, "when you had just broken your knife against the coatof mail which protected my breast! Yet perhaps if I hadfound you humble and penitent, I might have preventedBenedetto from killing you; but I found you proud andblood-thirsty, and I left you in the hands of God."

"I do not believe there is a God," howled Caderousse; "youdo not believe it; you lie - you lie!"

"Silence," said the abbe; "you will force the last drop ofblood from your veins. What! you do not believe in God whenhe is striking you dead? you will not believe in him, whorequires but a prayer, a word, a tear, and he will forgive?God, who might have directed the assassin's dagger so as toend your career in a moment, has given you this quarter ofan hour for repentance. Reflect, then, wretched man, andrepent."

"No," said Caderousse, "no; I will not repent. There is noGod; there is no providence - all comes by chance." -

"There is a providence; there is a God," said Monte Cristo,"of whom you are a striking proof, as you lie in utterdespair, denying him, while I stand before you, rich, happy,safe and entreating that God in whom you endeavor not tobelieve, while in your heart you still believe in him."

"But who are you, then?" asked Caderousse, fixing his dyingeyes on the count. "Look well at me!" said Monte Cristo,putting the light near his face. "Well, the abbe - the AbbeBusoni." Monte Cristo took off the wig which disfigured him,and let fall his black hair, which added so much to thebeauty of his pallid features. "Oh?" said Caderousse,thunderstruck, "but for that black hair, I should say youwere the Englishman, Lord Wilmore."

"I am neither the Abbe Busoni nor Lord Wilmore," said MonteCristo; "think again, - do you not recollect me?" Those wasa magic effect in the count's words, which once more revivedthe exhausted powers of the miserable man. "Yes, indeed,"said he; "I think I have seen you and known you formerly."

"Yes, Caderousse, you have seen me; you knew me once."

"Who, then, are you? and why, if you knew me, do you let medie?"

"Because nothing can save you; your wounds are mortal. Hadit been possible to save you, I should have considered itanother proof of God's mercy, and I would again haveendeavored to restore you, I swear by my father's tomb."

"By your father's tomb!" said Caderousse, supported by asupernatural power, and half-raising himself to see moredistinctly the man who had just taken the oath which all menhold sacred; "who, then, are you?" The count had watched theapproach of death. He knew this was the last struggle. Heapproached the dying man, and, leaning over him with a calmand melancholy look, he whispered, "I am - I am" - And hisalmost closed lips uttered a name so low that the counthimself appeared afraid to hear it. Caderousse, who hadraised himself on his knees, and stretched out his arm,tried to draw back, then clasping his hands, and raisingthem with a desperate effort, "O my God, my God!" said he,"pardon me for having denied thee; thou dost exist, thou artindeed man's father in heaven, and his judge on earth. MyGod, my Lord, I have long despised thee! Pardon me, my God;receive me, O my Lord!" Caderousse sighed deeply, and fellback with a groan. The blood no longer flowed from hiswounds. He was dead.

"One!" said the count mysteriously, his eyes fixed on thecorpse, disfigured by so awful a death. Ten minutesafterwards the surgeon and the procureur arrived, the oneaccompanied by the porter, the other by Ali, and werereceived by the Abbe Busoni, who was praying by the side ofthe corpse.