beheld again the five persons I have named to you, or heard mention
of any one of them."
"Well, when Dantes was arrested, Monsieur Morrel hastened to
obtain the particulars, and they were very sad. The old man
returned alone to his home, folded up his wedding suit with tears
in his eyes, and paced up and down his chamber the whole day, and
would not go to bed at all, for I was underneath him and heard him
walking the whole night; and for myself, I assure you I could not
sleep either, for the grief of the poor father gave me great
uneasiness, and every step he took went to my heart as really as if
his foot had pressed against my breast. The next day Mercedes came
to implore the protection of M. de Villefort; she did not obtain
it, however, and went to visit the old man; when she saw him so
miserable and heart-broken, having passed a sleepless night, and
not touched food since the previous day, she wished him to go with
her that she might take care of him; but the old man would not
consent. `No,' was the old man's reply, `I will not leave this
house, for my poor dear boy loves me better than anything in the
world; and if he gets out of prison he will come and see me the
first thing, and what would he think if I did not wait here for
him?' I heard all this from the window, for I was anxious that
Mercedes should persuade the old man to accompany her, for his
footsteps over my head night and day did not leave me a moment's
repose."
"But did you not go up-stairs and try to console the poor old
man?" asked the abbe.
"Ah, sir," replied Caderousse, "we cannot console those who will
not be consoled, and he was one of these; besides, I know not why,
but he seemed to dislike seeing me. One night, however, I heard his
sobs, and I could not resist my desire to go up to him, but when I
reached his door he was no longer weeping but praying. I cannot now
repeat to you, sir, all the eloquent words and imploring language
he made use of; it was more than piety, it was more than grief, andhe made use of; it was more than piety, it was more than grief, and
I, who am no canter, and hate the Jesuits, said then to myself, `It
is really well, and I am very glad that I have not any children;
for if I were a father and felt such excessive grief as the old man
does, and did not find in my memory or heart all he is now saying,
I should throw myself into the sea at once, for I could not bear
it.'"
"Poor father!" murmured the priest.
"From day to day he lived on alone, and more and more solitary.
M. Morrel and Mercedes came to see him, but his door was closed;
and, although I was certain he was at home, he would not make any
answer. One day, when, contrary to his custom, he had admitted
Mercedes, and the poor girl, in spite of her own grief and despair,
endeavored to console him, he said to her, — `Be assured, my dear
daughter, he is dead; and instead of expecting him, it is he who is
awaiting us; I am quite happy, for I am the oldest, and of course
shall see him first.' However well disposed a person may be, why
you see we leave off after a time seeing persons who are in sorrow,
they make one melancholy; and so at last old Dantes was left all to
himself, and I only saw from time to time strangers go up to him
and come down again with some bundle they tried to hide; but I
guessed what these bundles were, and that he sold by degrees what
he had to pay for his subsistence. At length the poor old fellow
reached the end of all he had; he owed three quarters' rent, and
they threatened to turn him out; he begged for another week, which
was granted to him. I know this, because the landlord came into my
apartment when he left his. For the first three days I heard him
walking about as usual, but, on the fourth I heard nothing. I then
resolved to go up to him at all risks. The door was closed, but I
looked through the keyhole, and saw him so pale and haggard, that
believing him very ill, I went and told M. Morrel and then ran on
to Mercedes. They both came immediately, M. Morrel bringing ato Mercedes. They both came immediately, M. Morrel bringing a
doctor, and the doctor said it was inflammation of the bowels, and
ordered him a limited diet. I was there, too, and I never shall
forget the old man's smile at this prescription. From that time he
received all who came; he had an excuse for not eating any more;
the doctor had put him on a diet." The abbe uttered a kind of
groan. "The story interests you, does it not, sir?" inquired
Caderousse.
"Yes," replied the abbe, "it is very affecting."
"Mercedes came again, and she found him so altered that she was
even more anxious than before to have him taken to her own home.
This was M. Morrel's wish also, who would fain have conveyed the
old man against his consent; but the old man resisted, and cried so
that they were actually frightened. Mercedes remained, therefore,
by his bedside, and M. Morrel went away, making a sign to the
Catalan that he had left his purse on the chimney-piece. But
availing himself of the doctor's order, the old man would not take
any sustenance; at length (after nine days of despair and fasting),
the old man died, cursing those who had caused his misery, and
saying to Mercedes, `If you ever see my Edmond again, tell him I
die blessing him.'" The abbe rose from his chair, made two turns
round the chamber, and pressed his trembling hand against his
parched throat. "And you believe he died" —
"Of hunger, sir, of hunger," said Caderousse. "I am as certain
of it as that we two are Christians."
The abbe, with a shaking hand, seized a glass of water that was
standing by him half-full, swallowed it at one gulp, and then
resumed his seat, with red eyes and pale cheeks. "This was, indeed,
a horrid event." said he in a hoarse voice.
"The more so, sir, as it was men's and not God's doing."
"Tell me of those men," said the abbe, "and remember too," he
added in an almost menacing tone, "you have promised to tell me
everything. Tell me, therefore, who are these men who killed the
son with despair, and the father with famine?"