English
Caderoussecontinuedtocallpiteously,“Help,reverendsir,help!”
“Whatisthematter?”askedMonteCristo.
“Help,”criedCaderousse;“Iammurdered!”
“Wearehere;—takecourage.”
“Ah,it’sallover!Youarecometoolate—youarecometoseemedie.Whatblows,whatblood!”Hefainted.
Aliandhismasterconveyedthewoundedmanintoaroom.
MonteCristomotionedtoAlitoundresshim,andhethenexaminedhisdreadfulwounds.“MyGod!”
heexclaimed,“thyvengeanceissometimesdelayed,butonlythatitmayfallthemoreeffectually.”
Alilookedathismasterforfurtherinstructions.
“Bringhereimmediatelytheking’sattorney,M.deVillefort,wholivesintheFaubourgSt.Honore.
Asyoupassthelodge,waketheporter,andsendhimforasurgeon.”
Aliobeyed,leavingtheabbealonewithCaderousse,whohadnotyetrevived.
Whenthewretchedmanagainopenedhiseyes,thecountlookedathimwithamournfulexpressionofpity,andhislipsmovedasifinprayer.“Asurgeon,reverendsir—asurgeon!”saidCaderousse.
“Ihavesentforone,”repliedtheabbe.
“Iknowhecannotsavemylife,buthemaystrengthenmetogivemyevidence.”
“Againstwhom?”
“Againstmymurderer.”
“Didyourecognizehim?”
“Yes;itwasBenedetto.”
“TheyoungCorsican?”
“Himself.”
“Yourcomrade?”
“Yes.Aftergivingmetheplanofthishouse,doubtlesshopingIshouldkillthecountandhethusbecomehisheir,orthatthecountwouldkillmeandIshouldbeoutofhisway,hewaylaidme,andhasmurderedme.”
“Ihavealsosentfortheprocureur.”
“Hewillnotcomeintime;Ifeelmylifefastebbing.”
“Waitamoment,”saidMonteCristo.Helefttheroom,andreturnedinfiveminuteswithaphial.
Thedyingman’seyeswereallthetimerivetedonthedoor,throughwhichhehopedsuccorwouldarrive.“Hasten,reverendsir,hasten!Ishallfaintagain!”
MonteCristoapproached,anddroppedonhispurplelipsthreeorfourdropsofthecontentsofthephial.Caderoussedrewadeepbreath.
“Oh,”saidhe,“thatislifetome;more,more!”
“Twodropsmorewouldkillyou,”repliedtheabbe.
“Oh,sendforsomeonetowhomIcandenouncethewretch!”
“ShallIwriteyourdeposition?Youcansignit.”
“Yesyes,”saidCaderousse;andhiseyesglistenedatthethoughtofthisposthumousrevenge.MonteCristowrote:—
“Idie,murderedbytheCorsicanBenedetto,mycomradeinthegalleysatToulouse,No.59.”
“Quick,quick!”saidCaderousse,“orIshallbeunabletosignit.”
MonteCristogavethepentoCaderousse,whocollectedallhisstrength,signedit,andfellbackonhisbed,saying:“Youwillrelatealltherest,reverendsir;youwillsayhecallshimselfAndreaCavalcanti.HelodgesattheHoteldesPrinces.Oh,Iamdying!”Heagainfainted.
Theabbemadehimsmellthecontentsofthephial,andheagainopenedhiseyes.
Hisdesireforrevengehadnotforsakenhim.
“Ah,youwilltellallIhavesaid,willyounot,reverendsir?”
“Yes,andmuchmore.”
“Whatmorewillyousay?”
“Iwillsayhehaddoubtlessgivenyoutheplanofthishouse,inthehopethecountwouldkillyou.
Iwillsay,likewise,hehadapprisedthecount,byanote,ofyourintention,and,thecountbeingabsent,Ireadthenoteandsatuptoawaityou.”
“Andhewillbeguillotined,willbenot?”saidCaderousse.“Promisemethat,andIwilldiewiththathope.”
“Iwillsay,”continuedthecount,“thathefollowedandwatchedyouthewholetime,andwhenhesawyouleavethehouse,rantotheangleofthewalltoconcealhimself.”
“Didyouseeallthat?”
“Remembermywords:‘Ifyoureturnhomesafely,IshallbelieveGodhasforgivenyou,andIwillforgiveyoualso.’”
“Andyoudidnotwarnme!”criedCaderousse,raisinghimselfonhiselbows.“YouknewIshouldbekilledonleavingthishouse,anddidnotwarnme!”
“No;forIsawGod’sjusticeplacedinthehandsofBenedetto,andshouldhavethoughtitsacrilegetoopposethedesignsofprovidence.”
“God’sjustice!Speaknotofit,reverendsir.IfGodwerejust,youknowhowmanywouldbepunishedwhonowescape.”
“Patience,”saidtheabbe,inatonewhichmadethedyingmanshudder;“havepatience!”
Caderousselookedathimwithamazement.
“Besides,”saidtheabbe,“Godismercifultoall,ashehasbeentoyou;heisfirstafather,thenajudge.”
“DoyouthenbelieveinGod?”saidCaderousse.
“HadIbeensounhappyasnottobelieveinhimuntilnow,”saidMonteCristo,“Imustbelieveonseeingyou.”Caderousseraisedhisclinchedhandstowardsheaven.
“Listen,”saidtheabbe,extendinghishandoverthewoundedman,asiftocommandhimtobelieve;“thisiswhattheGodinwhom,onyourdeath–bed,yourefusetobelieve,hasdoneforyou—hegaveyouhealth,strength,regularemployment,evenfriends—alife,infact,whichamanmightenjoywithacalmconscience.
Insteadofimprovingthesegifts,rarelygrantedsoabundantly,thishasbeenyourcourse—youhavegivenyourselfuptoslothanddrunkenness,andinafitofintoxicationhaveruinedyourbestfriend.”
“Help!”criedCaderousse;“Irequireasurgeon,notapriest;perhapsIamnotmortallywounded—Imaynotdie;perhapstheycanyetsavemylife.”
“Yourwoundsaresofarmortalthat,withoutthethreedropsIgaveyou,youwouldnowbedead.Listen,then.”
“Ah,”murmuredCaderousse,“whatastrangepriestyouare;youdrivethedyingtodespair,insteadofconsolingthem.”
“Listen,”continuedtheabbe.“WhenyouhadbetrayedyourfriendGodbegannottostrike,buttowarnyou.Povertyovertookyou.
Youhadalreadypassedhalfyourlifeincovetingthatwhichyoumighthavehonorablyacquired;andalreadyyoucontemplatedcrimeundertheexcuseofwant,whenGodworkedamiracleinyourbehalf,sendingyou,bymyhands,afortune—brilliant,indeed,foryou,whohadneverpossessedany.
Butthisunexpected,unhoped–for,unheard–offortunesufficedyounolongerwhenyouoncepossessedit;youwishedtodoubleit,andhow?—byamurder!
Yousucceeded,andthenGodsnatcheditfromyou,andbroughtyoutojustice.”
“ItwasnotIwhowishedtokilltheJew,”saidCaderousse;“itwasLaCarconte.”
“Yes,”saidMonteCristo,“andGod,—Icannotsayinjustice,forhisjusticewouldhaveslainyou,—butGod,inhismercy,sparedyourlife.”
“Pardieu,totransportmeforlife,howmerciful!”
“Youthoughtitamercythen,miserablewretch!
Thecowardwhofeareddeathrejoicedatperpetualdisgrace;forlikeallgalley–slaves,yousaid,‘Imayescapefromprison,Icannotfromthegrave.’
Andyousaidtruly;thewaywasopenedforyouunexpectedly.
AnEnglishmanvisitedToulon,whohadvowedtorescuetwomenfrominfamy,andhischoicefellonyouandyourcompanion.
Youreceivedasecondfortune,moneyandtranquillitywererestoredtoyou,andyou,whohadbeencondemnedtoafelon’slife,mightliveasothermen.
Then,wretchedcreature,thenyoutemptedGodathirdtime.
‘Ihavenotenough,’yousaid,whenyouhadmorethanyoubeforepossessed,andyoucommittedathirdcrime,withoutreason,withoutexcuse.Godiswearied;hehaspunishedyou.”Caderoussewasfastsinking.
“Givemedrink,”saidhe:“Ithirst—Iburn!”MonteCristogavehimaglassofwater.
“Andyetthatvillain,Benedetto,willescape!”
“Noone,Itellyou,willescape;Benedettowillbepunished.”
“Then,you,too,willbepunished,foryoudidnotdoyourdutyasapriest—youshouldhavepreventedBenedettofromkillingme.”
“I?”saidthecount,withasmilewhichpetrifiedthedyingman,“whenyouhadjustbrokenyourknifeagainstthecoatofmailwhichprotectedmybreast!
YetperhapsifIhadfoundyouhumbleandpenitent,ImighthavepreventedBenedettofromkillingyou;butIfoundyouproudandblood–thirsty,andIleftyouinthehandsofGod.”
“IdonotbelievethereisaGod,”howledCaderousse;“youdonotbelieveit;youlie—youlie!”
“Silence,”saidtheabbe;“youwillforcethelastdropofbloodfromyourveins.What!
youdonotbelieveinGodwhenheisstrikingyoudead?
youwillnotbelieveinhim,whorequiresbutaprayer,aword,atear,andhewillforgive?
God,whomighthavedirectedtheassassin’sdaggersoastoendyourcareerinamoment,hasgivenyouthisquarterofanhourforrepentance.
Reflect,then,wretchedman,andrepent.”
“No,”saidCaderousse,“no;Iwillnotrepent.ThereisnoGod;thereisnoprovidence—allcomesbychance.”—
“Thereisaprovidence;thereisaGod,”saidMonteCristo,“ofwhomyouareastrikingproof,asyoulieinutterdespair,denyinghim,whileIstandbeforeyou,rich,happy,safeandentreatingthatGodinwhomyouendeavornottobelieve,whileinyourheartyoustillbelieveinhim.”
“Butwhoareyou,then?”askedCaderousse,fixinghisdyingeyesonthecount.“Lookwellatme!”
saidMonteCristo,puttingthelightnearhisface.“Well,theabbe—theAbbeBusoni.”
MonteCristotookoffthewigwhichdisfiguredhim,andletfallhisblackhair,whichaddedsomuchtothebeautyofhispallidfeatures.“Oh?”
saidCaderousse,thunderstruck,“butforthatblackhair,IshouldsayyouweretheEnglishman,LordWilmore.”
“IamneithertheAbbeBusoninorLordWilmore,”saidMonteCristo;“thinkagain,—doyounotrecollectme?”
Thosewasamagiceffectinthecount’swords,whichoncemorerevivedtheexhaustedpowersofthemiserableman.
“Yes,indeed,”saidhe;“IthinkIhaveseenyouandknownyouformerly.”
“Yes,Caderousse,youhaveseenme;youknewmeonce.”
“Who,then,areyou?andwhy,ifyouknewme,doyouletmedie?”
“Becausenothingcansaveyou;yourwoundsaremortal.
Haditbeenpossibletosaveyou,IshouldhaveconsidereditanotherproofofGod’smercy,andIwouldagainhaveendeavoredtorestoreyou,Iswearbymyfather’stomb.”
“Byyourfather’stomb!”saidCaderousse,supportedbyasupernaturalpower,andhalf–raisinghimselftoseemoredistinctlythemanwhohadjusttakentheoathwhichallmenholdsacred;“who,then,areyou?”
Thecounthadwatchedtheapproachofdeath.Heknewthiswasthelaststruggle.
Heapproachedthedyingman,and,leaningoverhimwithacalmandmelancholylook,hewhispered,“Iam—Iam”—Andhisalmostclosedlipsutteredanamesolowthatthecounthimselfappearedafraidtohearit.
Caderousse,whohadraisedhimselfonhisknees,andstretchedouthisarm,triedtodrawback,thenclaspinghishands,andraisingthemwithadesperateeffort,“OmyGod,myGod!”
saidhe,“pardonmeforhavingdeniedthee;thoudostexist,thouartindeedman’sfatherinheaven,andhisjudgeonearth.
MyGod,myLord,Ihavelongdespisedthee!
Pardonme,myGod;receiveme,OmyLord!”
Caderoussesigheddeeply,andfellbackwithagroan.
Thebloodnolongerflowedfromhiswounds.Hewasdead.
“One!”saidthecountmysteriously,hiseyesfixedonthecorpse,disfiguredbysoawfuladeath.
Tenminutesafterwardsthesurgeonandtheprocureurarrived,theoneaccompaniedbytheporter,theotherbyAli,andwerereceivedbytheAbbeBusoni,whowasprayingbythesideofthecorpse.
Share this article to
FINISH