lost at Perugia."
"Ah, but madame, does mankind ever lose anything? The arts
change about and make a tour of the world; things take a different
name, and the vulgar do not follow them — that is all; but there is
always the same result. Poisons act particularly on some organ or
another — one on the stomach, another on the brain, another on the
intestines. Well, the poison brings on a cough, the cough an
inflammation of the lungs, or some other complaint catalogued in
the book of science, which, however, by no means precludes it from
being decidedly mortal; and if it were not, would be sure to become
so, thanks to the remedies applied by foolish doctors, who are
generally bad chemists, and which will act in favor of or against
the malady, as you please; and then there is a human being killed
according to all the rules of art and skill, and of whom justice
learns nothing, as was said by a terrible chemist of my
acquaintance, the worthy Abbe Adelmonte of Taormina, in Sicily, who
has studied these national phenomena very profoundly."
"It is quite frightful, but deeply interesting," said the young
lady, motionless with attention. "I thought, I must confess, that
these tales, were inventions of the Middle Ages."
"Yes, no doubt, but improved upon by ours. What is the use of
time, rewards of merit, medals, crosses, Monthyon prizes, if they
do not lead society towards more complete perfection? Yet man will
never be perfect until he learns to create and destroy; he does
know how to destroy, and that is half the battle."
"So," added Madame de Villefort, constantly returning to her
object, "the poisons of the Borgias, the Medicis, the Renes, the
Ruggieris, and later, probably, that of Baron de Trenck, whose
story has been so misused by modern drama and romance" —
"Were objects of art, madame, and nothing more," replied the
count. "Do you suppose that the real savant addresses himself
stupidly to the mere individual? By no means. Science loves
eccentricities, leaps and bounds, trials of strength, fancies, if Ieccentricities, leaps and bounds, trials of strength, fancies, if I
may be allowed so to term them. Thus, for instance, the excellent
Abbe Adelmonte, of whom I spoke just now, made in this way some
marvellous experiments."
"Really?"
"Yes; I will mention one to you. He had a remarkably fine
garden, full of vegetables, flowers, and fruit. From amongst these
vegetables he selected the most simple — a cabbage, for instance.
For three days he watered this cabbage with a distillation of
arsenic; on the third, the cabbage began to droop and turn yellow.
At that moment he cut it. In the eyes of everybody it seemed fit
for table, and preserved its wholesome appearance. It was only
poisoned to the Abbe Adelmonte. He then took the cabbage to the
room where he had rabbits — for the Abbe Adelmonte had a collection
of rabbits, cats, and guinea-pigs, fully as fine as his collection
of vegetables, flowers, and fruit. Well, the Abbe Adelmonte took a
rabbit, and made it eat a leaf of the cabbage. The rabbit died.
What magistrate would find, or even venture to insinuate, anything
against this? What procureur has ever ventured to draw up an
accusation against M. Magendie or M. Flourens, in consequence of
the rabbits, cats, and guinea-pigs they have killed? — not one. So,
then, the rabbit dies, and justice takes no notice. This rabbit
dead, the Abbe Adelmonte has its entrails taken out by his cook and
thrown on the dunghill; on this dunghill is a hen, who, pecking
these intestines, is in her turn taken ill, and dies next day. At
the moment when she is struggling in the convulsions of death, a
vulture is flying by (there are a good many vultures in Adelmonte's
country); this bird darts on the dead fowl, and carries it away to
a rock, where it dines off its prey. Three days afterwards, this
poor vulture, which has been very much indisposed since that
dinner, suddenly feels very giddy while flying aloft in the clouds,
and falls heavily into a fish-pond. The pike, eels, and carp eatand falls heavily into a fish-pond. The pike, eels, and carp eat
greedily always, as everybody knows — well, they feast on the
vulture. Now suppose that next day, one of these eels, or pike, or
carp, poisoned at the fourth remove, is served up at your table.
Well, then, your guest will be poisoned at the fifth remove, and
die, at the end of eight or ten days, of pains in the intestines,
sickness, or abscess of the pylorus. The doctors open the body and
say with an air of profound learning, `The subject has died of a
tumor on the liver, or of typhoid fever!'"
"But," remarked Madame de Villefort, "all these circumstances
which you link thus to one another may be broken by the least
accident; the vulture may not see the fowl, or may fall a hundred
yards from the fish-pond."
"Ah, that is where the art comes in. To be a great chemist in
the East, one must direct chance; and this is to be achieved." —
Madame de Villefort was in deep thought, yet listened attentively.
"But," she exclaimed, suddenly, "arsenic is indelible,
indestructible; in whatsoever way it is absorbed, it will be found
again in the body of the victim from the moment when it has been
taken in sufficient quantity to cause death."
"Precisely so," cried Monte Cristo — "precisely so; and this is
what I said to my worthy Adelmonte. He reflected, smiled, and
replied to me by a Sicilian proverb, which I believe is also a
French proverb, `My son, the world was not made in a day — but in
seven. Return on Sunday.' On the Sunday following I did return to
him. Instead of having watered his cabbage with arsenic, he had
watered it this time with a solution of salts, having their basis
in strychnine, strychnos colubrina, as the learned term it. Now,
the cabbage had not the slightest appearance of disease in the
world, and the rabbit had not the smallest distrust; yet, five
minutes afterwards, the rabbit was dead. The fowl pecked at the
rabbit, and the next day was a dead hen. This time we were the
vultures; so we opened the bird, and this time all special symptoms