son with despair, and the father with famine?"
"Two men jealous of him, sir; one from love, and the other from
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 real
delinquent?"
"Both, sir; one with a letter, and the other put it in the
post."
"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 left hand,
that his writing might not be recognized, and Fernand who put it in
the post."
"But," exclaimed the abbe suddenly, "you were there
yourself."
"I!" said Caderousse, astonished; "who told you I was
there?"
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 was
there."
"And did you not remonstrate against such infamy?" asked the
abbe; "if not, you were an accomplice."
"Sir," replied Caderousse, "they had made me drink to such an
excess that I nearly lost all perception. I had only an indistinct
understanding of what was passing around me. I said all that a man
in such a state could say; but they both assured me that it was a
jest they were carrying on, and perfectly harmless."
"Next day — next day, sir, you must have seen plain enough what
they had been doing, yet you said nothing, though you were present
when Dantes was arrested."
"Yes, sir, I was there, and very anxious to speak; but Danglars
restrained me. `If he should really be guilty,' said he, `and did
really put in to the Island of Elba; if he is really charged with a
letter for the Bonapartist committee at Paris, and if they findletter for the Bonapartist committee 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
politics then 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 me night
and day. I often ask pardon of God, I swear to you, because this
action, the only one with which I have seriously to reproach myself
in all my life, is no doubt the cause of my abject condition. I am
expiating a moment of selfishness, and so I always say to La
Carconte, when she complains, `Hold your tongue, woman; it is the
will of God.'" And Caderousse bowed his head with every sign of
real repentance.
"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 say the
dead know everything." There was a brief silence; the abbe rose and
paced up and down pensively, and then resumed his 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 the
abbe.
"The part of an honest man, full of courage and real regard.
Twenty times he interceded for Edmond. When the emperor returned,
he wrote, implored, threatened, and so energetically, that on the
second restoration he was persecuted as a Bonapartist. Ten times,
as I told you, he came to see Dantes' father, and offered to
receive him in his own house; and the night or two before his
death, as I have already said, he left his purse on the
mantelpiece, with which they paid the old man's debts, and buried
him decently; and so Edmond's father died, as he had lived, withouthim decently; 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 is almost
at the point of dishonor."
"How?"
"Yes," continued Caderousse, "so it is; after five and twenty
years of labor, after having acquired a most honorable name in the
trade of Marseilles, M. Morrel is utterly ruined; he has lost five
ships in two years, has suffered by the bankruptcy of three large
houses, and his only hope now is in that very Pharaon which poor
Dantes commanded, and which is expected from the Indies with a
cargo of cochineal and indigo. If this ship founders, like the
others, he is a ruined man."
"And has the unfortunate man wife or children?" inquired the
abbe.
"Yes, he has a wife, who through everything has behaved like an
angel; he has a daughter, who was about to marry the man she loved,
but whose family now will not allow him to wed the daughter of a
ruined man; he has, besides, a son, a lieutenant in the army; and,
as you may suppose, all this, instead of lessening, only augments
his sorrows. If he were alone in the world he would blow out his
brains, and there would be an end."
"Horrible!" ejaculated the priest.
"And it is thus heaven recompenses virtue, sir," added
Caderousse. "You see, I, who never did a bad action but that I have
told you of — am in destitution, with my poor wife dying of fever
before my very eyes, and I unable to do anything in the world for
her; I shall die of hunger, as old Dantes did, while Fernand and
Danglars are rolling in wealth."
"How is that?"
"Because their deeds have brought them good fortune, while
honest men have been reduced to misery."
"What has become of Danglars, the instigator, and therefore the