deceived became stronger, so did his heart give way, and a feeling of
discouragement stole over him. This last proof, instead of giving him
fresh strength, deprived him of it; the pickaxe descended, or rather
fell; he placed it on the ground, passed his hand over his brow, and
remounted the stairs, alleging to himself, as an excuse, a desire to
be assured that no one was watching him, but in reality because he felt
that he was about to faint. The island was deserted, and the sun seemed
to cover it with its fiery glance; afar off, a few small fishing boats
studded the bosom of the blue ocean.
Dantes had tasted nothing, but he thought not of hunger at such a
moment; he hastily swallowed a few drops of rum, and again entered the
cavern. The pickaxe that had seemed so heavy, was now like a feather in
his grasp; he seized it, and attacked the wall. After several blows he
perceived that the stones were not cemented, but had been merely placed
one upon the other, and covered with stucco; he inserted the point of
his pickaxe, and using the handle as a lever, with joy soon saw the
stone turn as if on hinges, and fall at his feet. He had nothing more
to do now, but with the iron tooth of the pickaxe to draw the stones
towards him one by one. The aperture was already sufficiently large for
him to enter, but by waiting, he could still cling to hope, and retard
the certainty of deception. At last, after renewed hesitation, Dantes
entered the second grotto. The second grotto was lower and more gloomy
than the first; the air that could only enter by the newly formed
opening had the mephitic smell Dantes was surprised not to find in the
outer cavern. He waited in order to allow pure air to displace the foul
atmosphere, and then went on. At the left of the opening was a dark and
deep angle. But to Dantes' eye there was no darkness. He glanced around
this second grotto; it was, like the first, empty.
The treasure, if it existed, was buried in this corner. The time had
at length arrived; two feet of earth removed, and Dantes' fate would
be decided. He advanced towards the angle, and summoning all his
resolution, attacked the ground with the pickaxe. At the fifth or sixth
blow the pickaxe struck against an iron substance. Never did funeral
knell, never did alarm-bell, produce a greater effect on the hearer.
Had Dantes found nothing he could not have become more ghastly pale.
He again struck his pickaxe into the earth, and encountered the same
resistance, but not the same sound. "It is a casket of wood bound with
iron," thought he. At this moment a shadow passed rapidly before the
opening; Dantes seized his gun, sprang through the opening, and mounted
the stair. A wild goat had passed before the mouth of the cave, and was
feeding at a little distance. This would have been a favorable occasion
to secure his dinner; but Dantes feared lest the report of his gun
should attract attention.
He thought a moment, cut a branch of a resinous tree, lighted it at the
fire at which the smugglers had prepared their breakfast, and descended
with this torch. He wished to see everything. He approached the hole he
had dug, and now, with the aid of the torch, saw that his pickaxe had in
reality struck against iron and wood. He planted his torch in the ground
and resumed his labor. In an instant a space three feet long by two feet
broad was cleared, and Dantes could see an oaken coffer, bound with cut
steel; in the middle of the lid he saw engraved on a silver plate, which
was still untarnished, the arms of the Spada family--viz., a sword,
pale, on an oval shield, like all the Italian armorial bearings, and
surmounted by a cardinal's hat; Dantes easily recognized them, Faria had
so often drawn them for him. There was no longer any doubt: the treasure
was there--no one would have been at such pains to conceal an empty
casket. In an instant he had cleared every obstacle away, and he saw
successively the lock, placed between two padlocks, and the two handles
at each end, all carved as things were carved at that epoch, when art
rendered the commonest metals precious. Dantes seized the handles, and
strove to lift the coffer; it was impossible. He sought to open it; lock
and padlock were fastened; these faithful guardians seemed unwilling
to surrender their trust. Dantes inserted the sharp end of the pickaxe
between the coffer and the lid, and pressing with all his force on the
handle, burst open the fastenings. The hinges yielded in their turn and
fell, still holding in their grasp fragments of the wood, and the chest
was open.
Edmond was seized with vertigo; he cocked his gun and laid it beside
him. He then closed his eyes as children do in order that they may see
in the resplendent night of their own imagination more stars than are
visible in the firmament; then he re-opened them, and stood motionless
with amazement. Three compartments divided the coffer. In the first,
blazed piles of golden coin; in the second, were ranged bars of
unpolished gold, which possessed nothing attractive save their value;
in the third, Edmond grasped handfuls of diamonds, pearls, and rubies,
which, as they fell on one another, sounded like hail against glass.
After having touched, felt, examined these treasures, Edmond rushed
through the caverns like a man seized with frenzy; he leaped on a rock,
from whence he could behold the sea. He was alone--alone with these
countless, these unheard-of treasures! was he awake, or was it but a
dream?
He would fain have gazed upon his gold, and yet he had not strength
enough; for an instant he leaned his head in his hands as if to prevent
his senses from leaving him, and then rushed madly about the rocks of
Monte Cristo, terrifying the wild goats and scaring the sea-fowls with
his wild cries and gestures; then he returned, and, still unable to
believe the evidence of his senses, rushed into the grotto, and found
himself before this mine of gold and jewels. This time he fell on
his knees, and, clasping his hands convulsively, uttered a prayer
intelligible to God alone. He soon became calmer and more happy, for
only now did he begin to realize his felicity. He then set himself to
work to count his fortune. There were a thousand ingots of gold, each
weighing from two to three pounds; then he piled up twenty-five thousand
crowns, each worth about eighty francs of our money, and bearing the
effigies of Alexander VI. and his predecessors; and he saw that the
complement was not half empty. And he measured ten double handfuls of
pearls, diamonds, and other gems, many of which, mounted by the most
famous workmen, were valuable beyond their intrinsic worth. Dantes
saw the light gradually disappear, and fearing to be surprised in the
cavern, left it, his gun in his hand. A piece of biscuit and a small
quantity of rum formed his supper, and he snatched a few hours' sleep,
lying over the mouth of the cave.
It was a night of joy and terror, such as this man of stupendous
emotions had already experienced twice or thrice in his lifetime.
Chapter 25. The Unknown.
Day, for which Dantes had so eagerly and impatiently waited with open
eyes, again dawned. With the first light Dantes resumed his search.
Again he climbed the rocky height he had ascended the previous evening,
and strained his view to catch every peculiarity of the landscape;
but it wore the same wild, barren aspect when seen by the rays of the
morning sun which it had done when surveyed by the fading glimmer of
eve. Descending into the grotto, he lifted the stone, filled his pockets
with gems, put the box together as well and securely as he could,
sprinkled fresh sand over the spot from which it had been taken, and
then carefully trod down the earth to give it everywhere a uniform
appearance; then, quitting the grotto, he replaced the stone, heaping
on it broken masses of rocks and rough fragments of crumbling granite,
filling the interstices with earth, into which he deftly inserted
rapidly growing plants, such as the wild myrtle and flowering thorn,
then carefully watering these new plantations, he scrupulously effaced
every trace of footsteps, leaving the approach to the cavern as
savage-looking and untrodden as he had found it. This done, he
impatiently awaited the return of his companions. To wait at Monte
Cristo for the purpose of watching like a dragon over the almost
incalculable riches that had thus fallen into his possession satisfied
not the cravings of his heart, which yearned to return to dwell among
mankind, and to assume the rank, power, and influence which are always
accorded to wealth--that first and greatest of all the forces within the
grasp of man.
On the sixth day, the smugglers returned. From a distance Dantes
recognized the rig and handling of The Young Amelia, and dragging
himself with affected difficulty towards the landing-place, he met his
companions with an assurance that, although considerably better than
when they quitted him, he still suffered acutely from his late accident.
He then inquired how they had fared in their trip. To this question the
smugglers replied that, although successful in landing their cargo in
safety, they had scarcely done so when they received intelligence that a
guard-ship had just quitted the port of Toulon and was crowding all
sail towards them. This obliged them to make all the speed they could to
evade the enemy, when they could but lament the absence of Dantes, whose
superior skill in the management of a vessel would have availed them so
materially. In fact, the pursuing vessel had almost overtaken them
when, fortunately, night came on, and enabled them to double the Cape of
Corsica, and so elude all further pursuit. Upon the whole, however, the
trip had been sufficiently successful to satisfy all concerned; while
the crew, and particularly Jacopo, expressed great regrets that Dantes
had not been an equal sharer with themselves in the profits, which
amounted to no less a sum than fifty piastres each.
Edmond preserved the most admirable self-command, not suffering the
faintest indication of a smile to escape him at the enumeration of all
the benefits he would have reaped had he been able to quit the island;
but as The Young Amelia had merely come to Monte Cristo to fetch him
away, he embarked that same evening, and proceeded with the captain to
Leghorn. Arrived at Leghorn, he repaired to the house of a Jew, a dealer
in precious stones, to whom he disposed of four of his smallest diamonds
for five thousand francs each. Dantes half feared that such valuable
jewels in the hands of a poor sailor like himself might excite
suspicion; but the cunning purchaser asked no troublesome questions
concerning a bargain by which he gained a round profit of at least
eighty per cent.
The following day Dantes presented Jacopo with an entirely new vessel,
accompanying the gift by a donation of one hundred piastres, that he
might provide himself with a suitable crew and other requisites for his
outfit, upon condition that he would go at once to Marseilles for the
purpose of inquiring after an old man named Louis Dantes, residing
in the Allees de Meillan, and also a young woman called Mercedes, an
inhabitant of the Catalan village. Jacopo could scarcely believe his
senses at receiving this magnificent present, which Dantes hastened to
account for by saying that he had merely been a sailor from whim and a
desire to spite his family, who did not allow him as much money as he
liked to spend; but that on his arrival at Leghorn he had come into
possession of a large fortune, left him by an uncle, whose sole heir
he was. The superior education of Dantes gave an air of such extreme
probability to this statement that it never once occurred to Jacopo to
doubt its accuracy. The term for which Edmond had engaged to serve on
board The Young Amelia having expired, Dantes took leave of the captain,
who at first tried all his powers of persuasion to induce him to remain
as one of the crew, but having been told the history of the legacy, he
ceased to importune him further. The following morning Jacopo set sail
for Marseilles, with directions from Dantes to join him at the Island of
Monte Cristo.
Having seen Jacopo fairly out of the harbor, Dantes proceeded to make
his final adieus on board The Young Amelia, distributing so liberal a
gratuity among her crew as to secure for him the good wishes of all,
and expressions of cordial interest in all that concerned him. To the
captain he promised to write when he had made up his mind as to his
future plans. Then Dantes departed for Genoa. At the moment of his
arrival a small yacht was under trial in the bay; this yacht had been
built by order of an Englishman, who, having heard that the Genoese
excelled all other builders along the shores of the Mediterranean in
the construction of fast-sailing vessels, was desirous of possessing a
specimen of their skill; the price agreed upon between the Englishman
and the Genoese builder was forty thousand francs. Dantes, struck with
the beauty and capability of the little vessel, applied to its owner to
transfer it to him, offering sixty thousand francs, upon condition that
he should be allowed to take immediate possession. The proposal was too
advantageous to be refused, the more so as the person for whom the
yacht was intended had gone upon a tour through Switzerland, and was
not expected back in less than three weeks or a month, by which time
the builder reckoned upon being able to complete another. A bargain was
therefore struck. Dantes led the owner of the yacht to the dwelling of
a Jew; retired with the latter for a few minutes to a small back parlor,
and upon their return the Jew counted out to the shipbuilder the sum of
sixty thousand francs in bright gold pieces.
The delighted builder then offered his services in providing a suitable
crew for the little vessel, but this Dantes declined with many thanks,
saying he was accustomed to cruise about quite alone, and his principal
pleasure consisted in managing his yacht himself; the only thing the
builder could oblige him in would be to contrive a sort of secret closet
