ground and been crushed beneath the many vehicles continually
passing there. Recovering himself, however, he wiped the
perspiration from his brows, and stopped not again till he found
himself at the door of the house in which his father had lived.
The nasturtiums and other plants, which his father had delighted
to train before his window, had all disappeared from the upper part
of the house. Leaning against the tree, he gazed thoughtfully for a
time at the upper stories of the shabby little house. Then he
advanced to the door, and asked whether there were any rooms to be
let. Though answered in the negative, he begged so earnestly to be
permitted to visit those on the fifth floor, that, in despite of
the oft-repeated assurance of the concierge that they were
occupied, Dantes succeeded in inducing the man to go up to the
tenants, and ask permission for a gentleman to be allowed to look
at them.
The tenants of the humble lodging were a young couple who had
been scarcely married a week; and seeing them, Dantes sighed
heavily. Nothing in the two small chambers forming the apartments
remained as it had been in the time of the elder Dantes; the very
paper was different, while the articles of antiquated furniture
with which the rooms had been filled in Edmond's time had all
disappeared; the four walls alone remained as he had left them. The
bed belonging to the present occupants was placed as the former
owner of the chamber had been accustomed to have his; and, in spite
of his efforts to prevent it, the eyes of Edmond were suffused in
tears as he reflected that on that spot the old man had breathed
his last, vainly calling for his son. The young couple gazed with
astonishment at the sight of their visitor's emotion, and wondered
to see the large tears silently chasing each other down his
otherwise stern and immovable features; but they felt the
sacredness of his grief, and kindly refrained from questioning him
as to its cause, while, with instinctive delicacy, they left him toas to its cause, while, with instinctive delicacy, they left him to
indulge his sorrow alone. When he withdrew from the scene of his
painful recollections, they both accompanied him downstairs,
reiterating their hope that he would come again whenever he
pleased, and assuring him that their poor dwelling would ever be
open to him. As Edmond passed the door on the fourth floor, he
paused to inquire whether Caderousse the tailor still dwelt there;
but he received, for reply, that the person in question had got
into difficulties, and at the present time kept a small inn on the
route from Bellegarde to Beaucaire.
Having obtained the address of the person to whom the house in
the Allees de Meillan belonged, Dantes next proceeded thither, and,
under the name of Lord Wilmore (the name and title inscribed on his
passport), purchased the small dwelling for the sum of twenty-five
thousand francs, at least ten thousand more than it was worth; but
had its owner asked half a million, it would unhesitatingly have
been given. The very same day the occupants of the apartments on
the fifth floor of the house, now become the property of Dantes,
were duly informed by the notary who had arranged the necessary
transfer of deeds, etc., that the new landlord gave them their
choice of any of the rooms in the house, without the least
augmentation of rent, upon condition of their giving instant
possession of the two small chambers they at present inhabited.
This strange event aroused great wonder and curiosity in the
neighborhood of the Allees de Meillan, and a multitude of theories
were afloat, none of which was anywhere near the truth. But what
raised public astonishment to a climax, and set all conjecture at
defiance, was the knowledge that the same stranger who had in the
morning visited the Allees de Meillan had been seen in the evening
walking in the little village of the Catalans, and afterwards
observed to enter a poor fisherman's hut, and to pass more than an
hour in inquiring after persons who had either been dead or gonehour in inquiring after persons who had either been dead or gone
away for more than fifteen or sixteen years. But on the following
day the family from whom all these particulars had been asked
received a handsome present, consisting of an entirely new
fishing-boat, with two seines and a tender. The delighted
recipients of these munificent gifts would gladly have poured out
their thanks to their generous benefactor, but they had seen him,
upon quitting the hut, merely give some orders to a sailor, and
then springing lightly on horseback, leave Marseilles by the Porte
d'Aix."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 give
you, that you will never let any one know that it was I who
supplied them; for the persons of whom I am about to talk are rich
and powerful, and if they only laid the tips of their fingers on
me, I should break to pieces like glass."
"Make yourself easy, my friend," replied the abbe. "I am a
priest, and confessions die in my breast. Recollect, our only
desire is to carry out, in a fitting manner, the last wishes of our
friend. Speak, then, without reserve, as without hatred; tell the
truth, the whole truth; I do not know, never may know, the persons
of whom you are about to speak; besides, I am an Italian, and not a
Frenchman, and belong to God, and not to man, and I shall shortly
retire to my convent, which I have only quitted to fulfil the last
wishes of a dying man." This positive assurance seemed to give
Caderousse a little courage.
"Well, then, under these circumstances," said Caderousse, "I
will, I even believe I ought to undeceive you as to the friendship
which poor Edmond thought so sincere and unquestionable."
"Begin with his father, if you please." said the abbe; "Edmond
talked to me a great deal about the old man for whom he had the
deepest love."
"The history is a sad one, sir," said Caderousse, shaking his
head; "perhaps you know all the earlier part of it?"
"Yes." answered the abbe; "Edmond related to me everything until
the moment when he was arrested in a small cabaret close to
Marseilles."
"At La Reserve! Oh, yes; I can see it all before me this
moment."
"Was it not his betrothal feast?"
"It was and the feast that began so gayly had a very sorrowful
ending; a police commissary, followed by four soldiers, entered,
and Dantes was arrested."
"Yes, and up to this point I know all," said the priest. "Dantes
himself only knew that which personally concerned him, for he never
beheld again the five persons I have named to you, or heard mention