Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.75-117
sometimes delayed, but only that it may fall the more `
` effectually." Ali looked at his master for further `
` instructions. "Bring here immediately the king's attorney, `
` M. de Villefort, who lives in the Faubourg St. Honore. As `
` you pass the lodge, wake the porter, and send him for a `
` surgeon." Ali obeyed, leaving the abbe alone with `
` Caderousse, who had not yet revived. `
` `
` When the wretched man again opened his eyes, the count `
` looked at him with a mournful expression of pity, and his `
` lips moved as if in prayer. "A surgeon, reverend sir -- a `
` surgeon!" said Caderousse. `
` `
` "I have sent for one," replied the abbe. `
` `
` "I know he cannot save my life, but he may strengthen me to `
` give my evidence." `
` `
` "Against whom?" `
` `
` "Against my murderer." `
` `
` "Did you recognize him?" `
` `
` "Yes; it was Benedetto." `
` `
` "The young Corsican?" `
` `
` "Himself." `
` `
` "Your comrade?" `
` `
` "Yes. After giving me the plan of this house, doubtless `
` hoping I should kill the count and he thus become his heir, `
` or that the count would kill me and I should be out of his `
` way, he waylaid me, and has murdered me." `
` `
` "I have also sent for the procureur." `
` `
` "He will not come in time; I feel my life fast ebbing." `
` `
` "Wait a moment," said Monte Cristo. He left the room, and `
` returned in five minutes with a phial. The dying man's eyes `
` were all the time riveted on the door, through which he `
` hoped succor would arrive. "Hasten, reverend sir, hasten! I `
` shall faint again!" Monte Cristo approached, and dropped on `
` his purple lips three or four drops of the contents of the `
` phial. Caderousse drew a deep breath. "Oh," said he, "that `
` is life to me; more, more!" `
` `
` "Two drops more would kill you," replied the abbe. `
` `
` "Oh, send for some one to whom I can denounce the wretch!" `
` `
` "Shall I write your deposition? You can sign it." `
` `
` "Yes yes," said Caderousse; and his eyes glistened at the `
` thought of this posthumous revenge. Monte Cristo wrote: -- `
` `
` "I die, murdered by the Corsican Benedetto, my comrade in `
` the galleys at Toulouse, No. 59." `
` `
` "Quick, quick!" said Caderousse, "or I shall be unable to `
` sign it." `
` `
` Monte Cristo gave the pen to Caderousse, who collected all `
` his strength, signed it, and fell back on his bed, saying: `
` "You will relate all the rest, reverend sir; you will say he `
` calls himself Andrea Cavalcanti. He lodges at the Hotel des `
` Princes. Oh, I am dying!" He again fainted. The abbe made `
` him smell the contents of the phial, and he again opened his `
` eyes. His desire for revenge had not forsaken him. `
` `
` "Ah, you will tell all I have said, will you not, reverend `
` sir?" `
` `
` "Yes, and much more." `
` `
` "What more will you say?" `
` `
` "I will say he had doubtless given you the plan of this `
` house, in the hope the count would kill you. I will say, `
` likewise, he had apprised the count, by a note, of your `
` intention, and, the count being absent, I read the note and `
` sat up to await you." `
` `
` "And he will be guillotined, will be not?" said Caderousse. `
` "Promise me that, and I will die with that hope." `
` `
` "I will say," continued the count, "that he followed and `
` watched you the whole time, and when he saw you leave the `
` house, ran to the angle of the wall to conceal himself." `
` `
` "Did you see all that?" `
` `
` "Remember my words: `If you return home safely, I shall `
` believe God has forgiven you, and I will forgive you also.'" `
` `
` "And you did not warn me!" cried Caderousse, raising himself `
` on his elbows. "You knew I should be killed on leaving this `
` house, and did not warn me!" `
` `
` "No; for I saw God's justice placed in the hands of `
` Benedetto, and should have thought it sacrilege to oppose `
` the designs of providence." `
` `
` "God's justice! Speak not of it, reverend sir. If God were `
` just, you know how many would be punished who now escape." `
` `
` "Patience," said the abbe, in a tone which made the dying `
` man shudder; "have patience!" Caderousse looked at him with `
` amazement. "Besides," said the abbe, "God is merciful to `
` all, as he has been to you; he is first a father, then a `
` judge." `
` `
` "Do you then believe in God?" said Caderousse. `
` `
` "Had I been so unhappy as not to believe in him until now," `
` said Monte Cristo, "I must believe on seeing you." `
` Caderousse raised his clinched hands towards heaven. `
` `
` "Listen," said the abbe, extending his hand over the wounded `
` man, as if to command him to believe; "this is what the God `
` in whom, on your death-bed, you refuse to believe, has done `
` for you -- he gave you health, strength, regular employment, `
` even friends -- a life, in fact, which a man might enjoy `
` with a calm conscience. Instead of improving these gifts, `
` rarely granted so abundantly, this has been your course -- `
` you have given yourself up to sloth and drunkenness, and in `
` a fit of intoxication have ruined your best friend." `
` `
` "Help!" cried Caderousse; "I require a surgeon, not a `
` priest; perhaps I am not mortally wounded -- I may not die; `
` perhaps they can yet save my life." `
` `
` "Your wounds are so far mortal that, without the three drops `
` I gave you, you would now be dead. Listen, then." `
` `
` "Ah," murmured Caderousse, "what a strange priest you are; `
` you drive the dying to despair, instead of consoling them." `
` `
` "Listen," continued the abbe. "When you had betrayed your `
` friend God began not to strike, but to warn you. Poverty `
` overtook you. You had already passed half your life in `
` coveting that which you might have honorably acquired; and `
` already you contemplated crime under the excuse of want, `
` when God worked a miracle in your behalf, sending you, by my `
` hands, a fortune -- brilliant, indeed, for you, who had `
` never possessed any. But this unexpected, unhoped-for, `
` unheard-of fortune sufficed you no longer when you once `
` possessed it; you wished to double it, and how? -- by a `
` murder! You succeeded, and then God snatched it from you, `
` and brought you to justice." `
` `
` "It was not I who wished to kill the Jew," said Caderousse; `
` "it was La Carconte." `
` `
` "Yes," said Monte Cristo, "and God, -- I cannot say in `
` justice, for his justice would have slain you, -- but God, `
` in his mercy, spared your life." `
` `
` "Pardieu, to transport me for life, how merciful!" `
` `
` "You thought it a mercy then, miserable wretch! The coward `
` who feared death rejoiced at perpetual disgrace; for like `
` all galley-slaves, you said, `I may escape from prison, I `
` cannot from the grave.' And you said truly; the way was `
` opened for you unexpectedly. An Englishman visited Toulon, `
` who had vowed to rescue two men from infamy, and his choice `
` fell on you and your companion. You received a second `
` fortune, money and tranquillity were restored to you, and `
` you, who had been condemned to a felon's life, might live as `
` other men. Then, wretched creature, then you tempted God a `
` third time. `I have not enough,' you said, when you had more `
` than you before possessed, and you committed a third crime, `
` without reason, without excuse. God is wearied; he has `
` punished you." Caderousse was fast sinking. "Give me drink," `
` said he: "I thirst -- I burn!" Monte Cristo gave him a glass `
` of water. "And yet that villain, Benedetto, will escape!" `
` `
` "No one, I tell you, will escape; Benedetto will be `
` punished." `
` `
` "Then, you, too, will be punished, for you did not do your `
` duty as a priest -- you should have prevented Benedetto from `
` killing me." `
` `
` "I?" said the count, with a smile which petrified the dying `
` man, "when you had just broken your knife against the coat `
` of mail which protected my breast! Yet perhaps if I had `
` found you humble and penitent, I might have prevented `
` Benedetto from killing you; but I found you proud and `
` blood-thirsty, and I left you in the hands of God." `
` `
` "I do not believe there is a God," howled Caderousse; "you `
` do not believe it; you lie -- you lie!" `
` `
` "Silence," said the abbe; "you will force the last drop of `
` blood from your veins. What! you do not believe in God when `
` he is striking you dead? you will not believe in him, who `
` requires but a prayer, a word, a tear, and he will forgive? `
`
` effectually." Ali looked at his master for further `
` instructions. "Bring here immediately the king's attorney, `
` M. de Villefort, who lives in the Faubourg St. Honore. As `
` you pass the lodge, wake the porter, and send him for a `
` surgeon." Ali obeyed, leaving the abbe alone with `
` Caderousse, who had not yet revived. `
` `
` When the wretched man again opened his eyes, the count `
` looked at him with a mournful expression of pity, and his `
` lips moved as if in prayer. "A surgeon, reverend sir -- a `
` surgeon!" said Caderousse. `
` `
` "I have sent for one," replied the abbe. `
` `
` "I know he cannot save my life, but he may strengthen me to `
` give my evidence." `
` `
` "Against whom?" `
` `
` "Against my murderer." `
` `
` "Did you recognize him?" `
` `
` "Yes; it was Benedetto." `
` `
` "The young Corsican?" `
` `
` "Himself." `
` `
` "Your comrade?" `
` `
` "Yes. After giving me the plan of this house, doubtless `
` hoping I should kill the count and he thus become his heir, `
` or that the count would kill me and I should be out of his `
` way, he waylaid me, and has murdered me." `
` `
` "I have also sent for the procureur." `
` `
` "He will not come in time; I feel my life fast ebbing." `
` `
` "Wait a moment," said Monte Cristo. He left the room, and `
` returned in five minutes with a phial. The dying man's eyes `
` were all the time riveted on the door, through which he `
` hoped succor would arrive. "Hasten, reverend sir, hasten! I `
` shall faint again!" Monte Cristo approached, and dropped on `
` his purple lips three or four drops of the contents of the `
` phial. Caderousse drew a deep breath. "Oh," said he, "that `
` is life to me; more, more!" `
` `
` "Two drops more would kill you," replied the abbe. `
` `
` "Oh, send for some one to whom I can denounce the wretch!" `
` `
` "Shall I write your deposition? You can sign it." `
` `
` "Yes yes," said Caderousse; and his eyes glistened at the `
` thought of this posthumous revenge. Monte Cristo wrote: -- `
` `
` "I die, murdered by the Corsican Benedetto, my comrade in `
` the galleys at Toulouse, No. 59." `
` `
` "Quick, quick!" said Caderousse, "or I shall be unable to `
` sign it." `
` `
` Monte Cristo gave the pen to Caderousse, who collected all `
` his strength, signed it, and fell back on his bed, saying: `
` "You will relate all the rest, reverend sir; you will say he `
` calls himself Andrea Cavalcanti. He lodges at the Hotel des `
` Princes. Oh, I am dying!" He again fainted. The abbe made `
` him smell the contents of the phial, and he again opened his `
` eyes. His desire for revenge had not forsaken him. `
` `
` "Ah, you will tell all I have said, will you not, reverend `
` sir?" `
` `
` "Yes, and much more." `
` `
` "What more will you say?" `
` `
` "I will say he had doubtless given you the plan of this `
` house, in the hope the count would kill you. I will say, `
` likewise, he had apprised the count, by a note, of your `
` intention, and, the count being absent, I read the note and `
` sat up to await you." `
` `
` "And he will be guillotined, will be not?" said Caderousse. `
` "Promise me that, and I will die with that hope." `
` `
` "I will say," continued the count, "that he followed and `
` watched you the whole time, and when he saw you leave the `
` house, ran to the angle of the wall to conceal himself." `
` `
` "Did you see all that?" `
` `
` "Remember my words: `If you return home safely, I shall `
` believe God has forgiven you, and I will forgive you also.'" `
` `
` "And you did not warn me!" cried Caderousse, raising himself `
` on his elbows. "You knew I should be killed on leaving this `
` house, and did not warn me!" `
` `
` "No; for I saw God's justice placed in the hands of `
` Benedetto, and should have thought it sacrilege to oppose `
` the designs of providence." `
` `
` "God's justice! Speak not of it, reverend sir. If God were `
` just, you know how many would be punished who now escape." `
` `
` "Patience," said the abbe, in a tone which made the dying `
` man shudder; "have patience!" Caderousse looked at him with `
` amazement. "Besides," said the abbe, "God is merciful to `
` all, as he has been to you; he is first a father, then a `
` judge." `
` `
` "Do you then believe in God?" said Caderousse. `
` `
` "Had I been so unhappy as not to believe in him until now," `
` said Monte Cristo, "I must believe on seeing you." `
` Caderousse raised his clinched hands towards heaven. `
` `
` "Listen," said the abbe, extending his hand over the wounded `
` man, as if to command him to believe; "this is what the God `
` in whom, on your death-bed, you refuse to believe, has done `
` for you -- he gave you health, strength, regular employment, `
` even friends -- a life, in fact, which a man might enjoy `
` with a calm conscience. Instead of improving these gifts, `
` rarely granted so abundantly, this has been your course -- `
` you have given yourself up to sloth and drunkenness, and in `
` a fit of intoxication have ruined your best friend." `
` `
` "Help!" cried Caderousse; "I require a surgeon, not a `
` priest; perhaps I am not mortally wounded -- I may not die; `
` perhaps they can yet save my life." `
` `
` "Your wounds are so far mortal that, without the three drops `
` I gave you, you would now be dead. Listen, then." `
` `
` "Ah," murmured Caderousse, "what a strange priest you are; `
` you drive the dying to despair, instead of consoling them." `
` `
` "Listen," continued the abbe. "When you had betrayed your `
` friend God began not to strike, but to warn you. Poverty `
` overtook you. You had already passed half your life in `
` coveting that which you might have honorably acquired; and `
` already you contemplated crime under the excuse of want, `
` when God worked a miracle in your behalf, sending you, by my `
` hands, a fortune -- brilliant, indeed, for you, who had `
` never possessed any. But this unexpected, unhoped-for, `
` unheard-of fortune sufficed you no longer when you once `
` possessed it; you wished to double it, and how? -- by a `
` murder! You succeeded, and then God snatched it from you, `
` and brought you to justice." `
` `
` "It was not I who wished to kill the Jew," said Caderousse; `
` "it was La Carconte." `
` `
` "Yes," said Monte Cristo, "and God, -- I cannot say in `
` justice, for his justice would have slain you, -- but God, `
` in his mercy, spared your life." `
` `
` "Pardieu, to transport me for life, how merciful!" `
` `
` "You thought it a mercy then, miserable wretch! The coward `
` who feared death rejoiced at perpetual disgrace; for like `
` all galley-slaves, you said, `I may escape from prison, I `
` cannot from the grave.' And you said truly; the way was `
` opened for you unexpectedly. An Englishman visited Toulon, `
` who had vowed to rescue two men from infamy, and his choice `
` fell on you and your companion. You received a second `
` fortune, money and tranquillity were restored to you, and `
` you, who had been condemned to a felon's life, might live as `
` other men. Then, wretched creature, then you tempted God a `
` third time. `I have not enough,' you said, when you had more `
` than you before possessed, and you committed a third crime, `
` without reason, without excuse. God is wearied; he has `
` punished you." Caderousse was fast sinking. "Give me drink," `
` said he: "I thirst -- I burn!" Monte Cristo gave him a glass `
` of water. "And yet that villain, Benedetto, will escape!" `
` `
` "No one, I tell you, will escape; Benedetto will be `
` punished." `
` `
` "Then, you, too, will be punished, for you did not do your `
` duty as a priest -- you should have prevented Benedetto from `
` killing me." `
` `
` "I?" said the count, with a smile which petrified the dying `
` man, "when you had just broken your knife against the coat `
` of mail which protected my breast! Yet perhaps if I had `
` found you humble and penitent, I might have prevented `
` Benedetto from killing you; but I found you proud and `
` blood-thirsty, and I left you in the hands of God." `
` `
` "I do not believe there is a God," howled Caderousse; "you `
` do not believe it; you lie -- you lie!" `
` `
` "Silence," said the abbe; "you will force the last drop of `
` blood from your veins. What! you do not believe in God when `
` he is striking you dead? you will not believe in him, who `
` requires but a prayer, a word, a tear, and he will forgive? `
`