did it obey the slightest touch; and Dantes required but a short
trial of his beautiful craft to acknowledge that the Genoese had
not without reason attained their high reputation in the art of
shipbuilding. The spectators followed the little vessel with their
eyes as long as it remained visible; they then turned their
conjectures upon her probable destination. Some insisted she was
making for Corsica, others the Island of Elba; bets were offered to
any amount that she was bound for Spain; while Africa was
positively reported by many persons as her intended course; but no
one thought of Monte Cristo. Yet thither it was that Dantes guided
his vessel, and at Monte Cristo he arrived at the close of the
second day; his boat had proved herself a first-class sailer, and
had come the distance from Genoa in thirty-five hours. Dantes had
carefully noted the general appearance of the shore, and, instead
of landing at the usual place, he dropped anchor in the little
creek. The island was utterly deserted, and bore no evidence of
having been visited since he went away; his treasure was just as he
had left it. Early on the following morning he commenced the
removal of his riches, and ere nightfall the whole of his immense
wealth was safely deposited in the compartments of the secret
locker.
A week passed by. Dantes employed it in manoeuvring his yacht
round the island, studying it as a skilful horseman would the
animal he destined for some important service, till at the end of
that time he was perfectly conversant with its good and bad
qualities. The former Dantes proposed to augment, the latter to
remedy.
Upon the eighth day he discerned a small vessel under full sail
approaching Monte Cristo. As it drew near, he recognized it as the
boat he had given to Jacopo. He immediately signalled it. His
signal was returned, and in two hours afterwards the newcomer lay
at anchor beside the yacht. A mournful answer awaited each of
Edmond's eager inquiries as to the information Jacopo had obtained.Edmond's eager inquiries as to the information Jacopo had obtained.
Old Dantes was dead, and Mercedes had disappeared. Dantes listened
to these melancholy tidings with outward calmness; but, leaping
lightly ashore, he signified his desire to be quite alone. In a
couple of hours he returned. Two of the men from Jacopo's boat came
on board the yacht to assist in navigating it, 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 not how to
account for the mysterious disappearance of Mercedes.
Without divulging his secret, Dantes could not give sufficiently
clear instructions to an agent. There were, besides, other
particulars he was desirous of ascertaining, and those were of a
nature he alone could investigate in a manner satisfactory to
himself. His looking-glass had assured him, during his stay at
Leghorn, that he ran no risk of recognition; moreover, he had now
the means of adopting any disguise he thought proper. One fine
morning, then, his yacht, followed by the little fishing-boat,
boldly entered the port of Marseilles, and anchored exactly
opposite the spot from whence, on the never-to-be-forgotten night
of his departure for the Chateau d'If, he had been put on board the
boat destined to convey him thither. Still Dantes could not view
without a shudder the approach of a gendarme who accompanied the
officers deputed to demand his bill of health ere the yacht was
permitted to hold communication with the shore; but with that
perfect self-possession he had acquired during his acquaintance
with Faria, Dantes coolly presented an English passport he had
obtained from Leghorn, and as this gave him a standing which a
French passport would not have afforded, he was informed that there
existed no obstacle to his immediate debarkation.
The first person to attract the attention of Dantes, as he
landed on the Canebiere, was one of the crew belonging to the
Pharaon. Edmond welcomed the meeting with this fellow — who hadPharaon. Edmond welcomed the meeting with this fellow — who had
been one of his own sailors — as a sure means of testing the extent
of the change which time had worked in his own appearance. Going
straight towards him, he propounded a variety of questions on
different subjects, carefully watching the man's countenance as he
did so; but not a word or look implied that he had the slightest
idea of ever having seen before the person with whom he was then
conversing. Giving the sailor a piece of money in return for his
civility, Dantes proceeded onwards; but ere he had gone many steps
he heard the man loudly calling him to stop. Dantes instantly
turned to meet him. "I beg your pardon, sir," said the honest
fellow, in almost breathless haste, "but I believe you made a
mistake; you intended to give 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 another double Napoleon, that you may drink to my health, and
be able to ask your messmates to join you."
So extreme was the surprise of the sailor, that he was unable
even to thank Edmond, whose receding figure he continued to gaze
after in speechless astonishment. "Some nabob from India," was his
comment.
Dantes, meanwhile, went on his way. Each step he trod oppressed
his heart with fresh emotion; his first and most indelible
recollections were there; not a tree, not a street, that he passed
but seemed filled with dear and cherished memories. And thus he
proceeded onwards till he arrived at the end of the Rue de
Noailles, from whence a full view of the Allees de Meillan was
obtained. At this spot, so pregnant with fond and filial
remembrances, his heart beat almost to bursting, his knees tottered
under him, a mist floated over his sight, and had he not clung for
support to one of the trees, he would inevitably have fallen to the
ground and been crushed beneath the many vehicles continually