Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.75-117
requires but a prayer, a word, a tear, and he will forgive? `
` God, who might have directed the assassin's dagger so as to `
` end your career in a moment, has given you this quarter of `
` an hour for repentance. Reflect, then, wretched man, and `
` repent." `
` `
` "No," said Caderousse, "no; I will not repent. There is no `
` God; there is no providence -- all comes by chance." -- `
` `
` "There is a providence; there is a God," said Monte Cristo, `
` "of whom you are a striking proof, as you lie in utter `
` despair, denying him, while I stand before you, rich, happy, `
` safe and entreating that God in whom you endeavor not to `
` believe, while in your heart you still believe in him." `
` `
` "But who are you, then?" asked Caderousse, fixing his dying `
` eyes on the count. "Look well at me!" said Monte Cristo, `
` putting the light near his face. "Well, the abbe -- the Abbe `
` Busoni." Monte Cristo took off the wig which disfigured him, `
` and let fall his black hair, which added so much to the `
` beauty of his pallid features. "Oh?" said Caderousse, `
` thunderstruck, "but for that black hair, I should say you `
` were the Englishman, Lord Wilmore." `
` `
` "I am neither the Abbe Busoni nor Lord Wilmore," said Monte `
` Cristo; "think again, -- do you not recollect me?" Those was `
` a magic effect in the count's words, which once more revived `
` the exhausted powers of the miserable man. "Yes, indeed," `
` said he; "I think I have seen you and known you formerly." `
` `
` "Yes, Caderousse, you have seen me; you knew me once." `
` `
` "Who, then, are you? and why, if you knew me, do you let me `
` die?" `
` `
` "Because nothing can save you; your wounds are mortal. Had `
` it been possible to save you, I should have considered it `
` another proof of God's mercy, and I would again have `
` endeavored to restore you, I swear by my father's tomb." `
` `
` "By your father's tomb!" said Caderousse, supported by a `
` supernatural power, and half-raising himself to see more `
` distinctly the man who had just taken the oath which all men `
` hold sacred; "who, then, are you?" The count had watched the `
` approach of death. He knew this was the last struggle. He `
` approached the dying man, and, leaning over him with a calm `
` and melancholy look, he whispered, "I am -- I am" -- And his `
` almost closed lips uttered a name so low that the count `
` himself appeared afraid to hear it. Caderousse, who had `
` raised himself on his knees, and stretched out his arm, `
` tried to draw back, then clasping his hands, and raising `
` them with a desperate effort, "O my God, my God!" said he, `
` "pardon me for having denied thee; thou dost exist, thou art `
` indeed man's father in heaven, and his judge on earth. My `
` God, my Lord, I have long despised thee! Pardon me, my God; `
` receive me, O my Lord!" Caderousse sighed deeply, and fell `
` back with a groan. The blood no longer flowed from his `
` wounds. He was dead. `
` `
` "One!" said the count mysteriously, his eyes fixed on the `
` corpse, disfigured by so awful a death. Ten minutes `
` afterwards the surgeon and the procureur arrived, the one `
` accompanied by the porter, the other by Ali, and were `
` received by the Abbe Busoni, who was praying by the side of `
` the corpse. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 84 `
` Beauchamp. `
` `
` The daring attempt to rob the count was the topic of `
` conversation throughout Paris for the next fortnight. The `
` dying man had signed a deposition declaring Benedetto to be `
` the assassin. The police had orders to make the strictest `
` search for the murderer. Caderousse's knife, dark lantern, `
` bunch of keys, and clothing, excepting the waistcoat, which `
` could not be found, were deposited at the registry; the `
` corpse was conveyed to the morgue. The count told every one `
` that this adventure had happened during his absence at `
` Auteuil, and that he only knew what was related by the Abbe `
` Busoni, who that evening, by mere chance, had requested to `
` pass the night in his house, to examine some valuable books `
` in his library. Bertuccio alone turned pale whenever `
` Benedetto's name was mentioned in his presence, but there `
` was no reason why any one should notice his doing so. `
` Villefort, being called on to prove the crime, was preparing `
` his brief with the same ardor that he was accustomed to `
` exercise when required to speak in criminal cases. `
` `
` But three weeks had already passed, and the most diligent `
` search had been unsuccessful; the attempted robbery and the `
` murder of the robber by his comrade were almost forgotten in `
` anticipation of the approaching marriage of Mademoiselle `
` Danglars to the Count Andrea Cavalcanti. It was expected `
` that this wedding would shortly take place, as the young man `
` was received at the banker's as the betrothed. Letters had `
` been despatched to M. Cavalcanti, as the count's father, who `
` highly approved of the union, regretted his inability to `
` leave Parma at that time, and promised a wedding gift of a `
` hundred and fifty thousand livres. It was agreed that the `
` three millions should be intrusted to Danglars to invest; `
` some persons had warned the young man of the circumstances `
` of his future father-in-law, who had of late sustained `
` repeated losses; but with sublime disinterestedness and `
` confidence the young man refused to listen, or to express a `
` single doubt to the baron. The baron adored Count Andrea `
` Cavalcanti: not so Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars. With an `
` instinctive hatred of matrimony, she suffered Andrea's `
` attentions in order to get rid of Morcerf; but when Andrea `
` urged his suit, she betrayed an entire dislike to him. The `
` baron might possibly have perceived it, but, attributing it `
` to a caprice, feigned ignorance. `
` `
` The delay demanded by Beauchamp had nearly expired. Morcerf `
` appreciated the advice of Monte Cristo to let things die `
` away of their own accord. No one had taken up the remark `
` about the general, and no one had recognized in the officer `
` who betrayed the castle of Yanina the noble count in the `
` House of Peers. Albert, however felt no less insulted; the `
` few lines which had irritated him were certainly intended as `
` an insult. Besides, the manner in which Beauchamp had closed `
` the conference left a bitter recollection in his heart. He `
` cherished the thought of the duel, hoping to conceal its `
` true cause even from his seconds. Beauchamp had not been `
` seen since the day he visited Albert, and those of whom the `
` latter inquired always told him he was out on a journey `
` which would detain him some days. Where he was no one knew. `
` `
` One morning Albert was awakened by his valet de chambre, who `
` announced Beauchamp. Albert rubbed his eyes, ordered his `
` servant to introduce him into the small smoking-room on the `
` ground-floor, dressed himself quickly, and went down. He `
` found Beauchamp pacing the room; on perceiving him Beauchamp `
` stopped. "Your arrival here, without waiting my visit at `
` your house to-day, looks well, sir," said Albert. "Tell me, `
` may I shake hands with you, saying, `Beauchamp, acknowledge `
` you have injured me, and retain my friendship,' or must I `
` simply propose to you a choice of arms?" `
` `
` "Albert," said Beauchamp, with a look of sorrow which `
` stupefied the young man, "let us first sit down and talk." `
` `
` "Rather, sir, before we sit down, I must demand your `
` answer." `
` `
` "Albert," said the journalist, "these are questions which it `
` is difficult to answer." `
` `
` "I will facilitate it by repeating the question, `Will you, `
` or will you not, retract?'" `
` `
` "Morcerf, it is not enough to answer `yes' or `no' to `
` questions which concern the honor, the social interest, and `
` the life of such a man as Lieutenant-general the Count of `
` Morcerf, peer of France." `
` `
` "What must then be done?" `
` `
` "What I have done, Albert. I reasoned thus -- money, time, `
` and fatigue are nothing compared with the reputation and `
` interests of a whole family; probabilities will not suffice, `
` only facts will justify a deadly combat with a friend. If I `
` strike with the sword, or discharge the contents of a pistol `
` at man with whom, for three years, I have been on terms of `
` intimacy, I must, at least, know why I do so; I must meet `
` him with a heart at ease, and that quiet conscience which a `
` man needs when his own arm must save his life." `
` `
` "Well," said Morcerf, impatiently, "what does all this `
` mean?" `
` `
` "It means that I have just returned from Yanina." `
` `
` "From Yanina?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Impossible!" `
` `
` "Here is my passport; examine the visa -- Geneva, Milan, `
` Venice, Trieste, Delvino, Yanina. Will you believe the `
` government of a republic, a kingdom, and an empire?" Albert `
` cast his eyes on the passport, then raised them in `
` astonishment to Beauchamp. "You have been to Yanina?" said `
` he. `
` `
` "Albert, had you been a stranger, a foreigner, a simple `
` lord, like that Englishman who came to demand satisfaction `
` three or four months since, and whom I killed to get rid of, `
` I should not have taken this trouble; but I thought this `
` mark of consideration due to you. I took a week to go, `
` another to return, four days of quarantine, and forty-eight `
` hours to stay there; that makes three weeks. I returned last `
` night, and here I am." `
` `
` "What circumlocution! How long you are before you tell me `
` what I most wish to know?" `
` `
` "Because, in truth, Albert" -- `
` `
`
` God, who might have directed the assassin's dagger so as to `
` end your career in a moment, has given you this quarter of `
` an hour for repentance. Reflect, then, wretched man, and `
` repent." `
` `
` "No," said Caderousse, "no; I will not repent. There is no `
` God; there is no providence -- all comes by chance." -- `
` `
` "There is a providence; there is a God," said Monte Cristo, `
` "of whom you are a striking proof, as you lie in utter `
` despair, denying him, while I stand before you, rich, happy, `
` safe and entreating that God in whom you endeavor not to `
` believe, while in your heart you still believe in him." `
` `
` "But who are you, then?" asked Caderousse, fixing his dying `
` eyes on the count. "Look well at me!" said Monte Cristo, `
` putting the light near his face. "Well, the abbe -- the Abbe `
` Busoni." Monte Cristo took off the wig which disfigured him, `
` and let fall his black hair, which added so much to the `
` beauty of his pallid features. "Oh?" said Caderousse, `
` thunderstruck, "but for that black hair, I should say you `
` were the Englishman, Lord Wilmore." `
` `
` "I am neither the Abbe Busoni nor Lord Wilmore," said Monte `
` Cristo; "think again, -- do you not recollect me?" Those was `
` a magic effect in the count's words, which once more revived `
` the exhausted powers of the miserable man. "Yes, indeed," `
` said he; "I think I have seen you and known you formerly." `
` `
` "Yes, Caderousse, you have seen me; you knew me once." `
` `
` "Who, then, are you? and why, if you knew me, do you let me `
` die?" `
` `
` "Because nothing can save you; your wounds are mortal. Had `
` it been possible to save you, I should have considered it `
` another proof of God's mercy, and I would again have `
` endeavored to restore you, I swear by my father's tomb." `
` `
` "By your father's tomb!" said Caderousse, supported by a `
` supernatural power, and half-raising himself to see more `
` distinctly the man who had just taken the oath which all men `
` hold sacred; "who, then, are you?" The count had watched the `
` approach of death. He knew this was the last struggle. He `
` approached the dying man, and, leaning over him with a calm `
` and melancholy look, he whispered, "I am -- I am" -- And his `
` almost closed lips uttered a name so low that the count `
` himself appeared afraid to hear it. Caderousse, who had `
` raised himself on his knees, and stretched out his arm, `
` tried to draw back, then clasping his hands, and raising `
` them with a desperate effort, "O my God, my God!" said he, `
` "pardon me for having denied thee; thou dost exist, thou art `
` indeed man's father in heaven, and his judge on earth. My `
` God, my Lord, I have long despised thee! Pardon me, my God; `
` receive me, O my Lord!" Caderousse sighed deeply, and fell `
` back with a groan. The blood no longer flowed from his `
` wounds. He was dead. `
` `
` "One!" said the count mysteriously, his eyes fixed on the `
` corpse, disfigured by so awful a death. Ten minutes `
` afterwards the surgeon and the procureur arrived, the one `
` accompanied by the porter, the other by Ali, and were `
` received by the Abbe Busoni, who was praying by the side of `
` the corpse. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 84 `
` Beauchamp. `
` `
` The daring attempt to rob the count was the topic of `
` conversation throughout Paris for the next fortnight. The `
` dying man had signed a deposition declaring Benedetto to be `
` the assassin. The police had orders to make the strictest `
` search for the murderer. Caderousse's knife, dark lantern, `
` bunch of keys, and clothing, excepting the waistcoat, which `
` could not be found, were deposited at the registry; the `
` corpse was conveyed to the morgue. The count told every one `
` that this adventure had happened during his absence at `
` Auteuil, and that he only knew what was related by the Abbe `
` Busoni, who that evening, by mere chance, had requested to `
` pass the night in his house, to examine some valuable books `
` in his library. Bertuccio alone turned pale whenever `
` Benedetto's name was mentioned in his presence, but there `
` was no reason why any one should notice his doing so. `
` Villefort, being called on to prove the crime, was preparing `
` his brief with the same ardor that he was accustomed to `
` exercise when required to speak in criminal cases. `
` `
` But three weeks had already passed, and the most diligent `
` search had been unsuccessful; the attempted robbery and the `
` murder of the robber by his comrade were almost forgotten in `
` anticipation of the approaching marriage of Mademoiselle `
` Danglars to the Count Andrea Cavalcanti. It was expected `
` that this wedding would shortly take place, as the young man `
` was received at the banker's as the betrothed. Letters had `
` been despatched to M. Cavalcanti, as the count's father, who `
` highly approved of the union, regretted his inability to `
` leave Parma at that time, and promised a wedding gift of a `
` hundred and fifty thousand livres. It was agreed that the `
` three millions should be intrusted to Danglars to invest; `
` some persons had warned the young man of the circumstances `
` of his future father-in-law, who had of late sustained `
` repeated losses; but with sublime disinterestedness and `
` confidence the young man refused to listen, or to express a `
` single doubt to the baron. The baron adored Count Andrea `
` Cavalcanti: not so Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars. With an `
` instinctive hatred of matrimony, she suffered Andrea's `
` attentions in order to get rid of Morcerf; but when Andrea `
` urged his suit, she betrayed an entire dislike to him. The `
` baron might possibly have perceived it, but, attributing it `
` to a caprice, feigned ignorance. `
` `
` The delay demanded by Beauchamp had nearly expired. Morcerf `
` appreciated the advice of Monte Cristo to let things die `
` away of their own accord. No one had taken up the remark `
` about the general, and no one had recognized in the officer `
` who betrayed the castle of Yanina the noble count in the `
` House of Peers. Albert, however felt no less insulted; the `
` few lines which had irritated him were certainly intended as `
` an insult. Besides, the manner in which Beauchamp had closed `
` the conference left a bitter recollection in his heart. He `
` cherished the thought of the duel, hoping to conceal its `
` true cause even from his seconds. Beauchamp had not been `
` seen since the day he visited Albert, and those of whom the `
` latter inquired always told him he was out on a journey `
` which would detain him some days. Where he was no one knew. `
` `
` One morning Albert was awakened by his valet de chambre, who `
` announced Beauchamp. Albert rubbed his eyes, ordered his `
` servant to introduce him into the small smoking-room on the `
` ground-floor, dressed himself quickly, and went down. He `
` found Beauchamp pacing the room; on perceiving him Beauchamp `
` stopped. "Your arrival here, without waiting my visit at `
` your house to-day, looks well, sir," said Albert. "Tell me, `
` may I shake hands with you, saying, `Beauchamp, acknowledge `
` you have injured me, and retain my friendship,' or must I `
` simply propose to you a choice of arms?" `
` `
` "Albert," said Beauchamp, with a look of sorrow which `
` stupefied the young man, "let us first sit down and talk." `
` `
` "Rather, sir, before we sit down, I must demand your `
` answer." `
` `
` "Albert," said the journalist, "these are questions which it `
` is difficult to answer." `
` `
` "I will facilitate it by repeating the question, `Will you, `
` or will you not, retract?'" `
` `
` "Morcerf, it is not enough to answer `yes' or `no' to `
` questions which concern the honor, the social interest, and `
` the life of such a man as Lieutenant-general the Count of `
` Morcerf, peer of France." `
` `
` "What must then be done?" `
` `
` "What I have done, Albert. I reasoned thus -- money, time, `
` and fatigue are nothing compared with the reputation and `
` interests of a whole family; probabilities will not suffice, `
` only facts will justify a deadly combat with a friend. If I `
` strike with the sword, or discharge the contents of a pistol `
` at man with whom, for three years, I have been on terms of `
` intimacy, I must, at least, know why I do so; I must meet `
` him with a heart at ease, and that quiet conscience which a `
` man needs when his own arm must save his life." `
` `
` "Well," said Morcerf, impatiently, "what does all this `
` mean?" `
` `
` "It means that I have just returned from Yanina." `
` `
` "From Yanina?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Impossible!" `
` `
` "Here is my passport; examine the visa -- Geneva, Milan, `
` Venice, Trieste, Delvino, Yanina. Will you believe the `
` government of a republic, a kingdom, and an empire?" Albert `
` cast his eyes on the passport, then raised them in `
` astonishment to Beauchamp. "You have been to Yanina?" said `
` he. `
` `
` "Albert, had you been a stranger, a foreigner, a simple `
` lord, like that Englishman who came to demand satisfaction `
` three or four months since, and whom I killed to get rid of, `
` I should not have taken this trouble; but I thought this `
` mark of consideration due to you. I took a week to go, `
` another to return, four days of quarantine, and forty-eight `
` hours to stay there; that makes three weeks. I returned last `
` night, and here I am." `
` `
` "What circumlocution! How long you are before you tell me `
` what I most wish to know?" `
` `
` "Because, in truth, Albert" -- `
` `
`