handcuffed and tied to a horse's tail, and thus they took me to Nimes.
"I had been tracked by a customs-officer, who had lost sight of me near
the tavern; feeling certain that I intended to pass the night there, he
had returned to summon his comrades, who just arrived in time to
hear the report of the pistol, and to take me in the midst of such
circumstantial proofs of my guilt as rendered all hopes of proving
my innocence utterly futile. One only chance was left me, that of
beseeching the magistrate before whom I was taken to cause every inquiry
to be made for the Abbe Busoni, who had stopped at the inn of the Pont
du Gard on that morning. If Caderousse had invented the story relative
to the diamond, and there existed no such person as the Abbe Busoni,
then, indeed, I was lost past redemption, or, at least, my life hung
upon the feeble chance of Caderousse himself being apprehended
and confessing the whole truth. Two months passed away in hopeless
expectation on my part, while I must do the magistrate the justice
to say that he used every means to obtain information of the person I
declared could exculpate me if he would. Caderousse still evaded all
pursuit, and I had resigned myself to what seemed my inevitable fate.
My trial was to come on at the approaching assizes; when, on the 8th of
September--that is to say, precisely three months and five days after
the events which had perilled my life--the Abbe Busoni, whom I never
ventured to believe I should see, presented himself at the prison doors,
saying he understood one of the prisoners wished to speak to him;
he added, that having learned at Marseilles the particulars of my
imprisonment, he hastened to comply with my desire. You may easily
imagine with what eagerness I welcomed him, and how minutely I
related the whole of what I had seen and heard. I felt some degree of
nervousness as I entered upon the history of the diamond, but, to my
inexpressible astonishment, he confirmed it in every particular, and to
my equal surprise, he seemed to place entire belief in all I said. And
then it was that, won by his mild charity, seeing that he was acquainted
with all the habits and customs of my own country, and considering also
that pardon for the only crime of which I was really guilty might come
with a double power from lips so benevolent and kind, I besought him to
receive my confession, under the seal of which I recounted the Auteuil
affair in all its details, as well as every other transaction of my
life. That which I had done by the impulse of my best feelings produced
the same effect as though it had been the result of calculation. My
voluntary confession of the assassination at Auteuil proved to him that
I had not committed that of which I stood accused. When he quitted me,
he bade me be of good courage, and to rely upon his doing all in his
power to convince my judges of my innocence.
"I had speedy proofs that the excellent abbe was engaged in my behalf,
for the rigors of my imprisonment were alleviated by many trifling
though acceptable indulgences, and I was told that my trial was to be
postponed to the assizes following those now being held. In the interim
it pleased providence to cause the apprehension of Caderousse, who was
discovered in some distant country, and brought back to France, where he
made a full confession, refusing to make the fact of his wife's having
suggested and arranged the murder any excuse for his own guilt.
The wretched man was sentenced to the galleys for life, and I was
immediately set at liberty."
"And then it was, I presume," said Monte Cristo "that you came to me as
the bearer of a letter from the Abbe Busoni?"
"It was, your excellency; the benevolent abbe took an evident interest
in all that concerned me.
"'Your mode of life as a smuggler,' said he to me one day, 'will be
the ruin of you; if you get out, don't take it up again.'--'But how,'
inquired I, 'am I to maintain myself and my poor sister?'
"'A person, whose confessor I am,' replied he, 'and who entertains a
high regard for me, applied to me a short time since to procure him a
confidential servant. Would you like such a post? If so, I will give you
a letter of introduction to him.'--'Oh, father,' I exclaimed, 'you are
very good.'
"'But you must swear solemnly that I shall never have reason to repent
my recommendation.' I extended my hand, and was about to pledge myself
by any promise he would dictate, but he stopped me. 'It is unnecessary
for you to bind yourself by any vow,' said he; 'I know and admire the
Corsican nature too well to fear you. Here, take this,' continued he,
after rapidly writing the few lines I brought to your excellency, and
upon receipt of which you deigned to receive me into your service,
and proudly I ask whether your excellency has ever had cause to repent
having done so?"
"No," replied the count; "I take pleasure in saying that you have served
me faithfully, Bertuccio; but you might have shown more confidence in
me."
"I, your excellency?"
"Yes; you. How comes it, that having both a sister and an adopted son,
you have never spoken to me of either?"
"Alas, I have still to recount the most distressing period of my life.
Anxious as you may suppose I was to behold and comfort my dear sister,
I lost no time in hastening to Corsica, but when I arrived at Rogliano I
found a house of mourning, the consequences of a scene so horrible that
the neighbors remember and speak of it to this day. Acting by my advice,
my poor sister had refused to comply with the unreasonable demands of
Benedetto, who was continually tormenting her for money, as long as he
believed there was a sou left in her possession. One morning that he had
demanded money, threatening her with the severest consequences if she
did not supply him with what he desired, he disappeared and remained
away all day, leaving the kind-hearted Assunta, who loved him as if he
were her own child, to weep over his conduct and bewail his absence.
Evening came, and still, with all the patient solicitude of a mother,
she watched for his return.
"As the eleventh hour struck, he entered with a swaggering air, attended
by two of the most dissolute and reckless of his boon companions. She
stretched out her arms to him, but they seized hold of her, and one of
the three--none other than the accursed Benedetto exclaimed,--'Put her
to torture and she'll soon tell us where her money is.'
"It unfortunately happened that our neighbor, Vasilio, was at Bastia,
leaving no person in his house but his wife; no human creature beside
could hear or see anything that took place within our dwelling. Two held
poor Assunta, who, unable to conceive that any harm was intended to her,
smiled in the face of those who were soon to become her executioners.
The third proceeded to barricade the doors and windows, then returned,
and the three united in stifling the cries of terror incited by the
sight of these preparations, and then dragged Assunta feet foremost
towards the brazier, expecting to wring from her an avowal of where her
supposed treasure was secreted. In the struggle her clothes caught
fire, and they were obliged to let go their hold in order to preserve
themselves from sharing the same fate. Covered with flames, Assunta
rushed wildly to the door, but it was fastened; she flew to the windows,
but they were also secured; then the neighbors heard frightful shrieks;
it was Assunta calling for help. The cries died away in groans, and next
morning, as soon as Vasilio's wife could muster up courage to venture
abroad, she caused the door of our dwelling to be opened by the public
authorities, when Assunta, although dreadfully burnt, was found still
breathing; every drawer and closet in the house had been forced open,
and the money stolen. Benedetto never again appeared at Rogliano,
neither have I since that day either seen or heard anything concerning
him.
"It was subsequently to these dreadful events that I waited on
your excellency, to whom it would have been folly to have mentioned
Benedetto, since all trace of him seemed entirely lost; or of my sister,
since she was dead."
"And in what light did you view the occurrence?" inquired Monte Cristo.
"As a punishment for the crime I had committed," answered Bertuccio.
"Oh, those Villeforts are an accursed race!"
"Truly they are," murmured the count in a lugubrious tone.
"And now," resumed Bertuccio, "your excellency may, perhaps, be able
to comprehend that this place, which I revisit for the first time--this
garden, the actual scene of my crime--must have given rise to
reflections of no very agreeable nature, and produced that gloom and
depression of spirits which excited the notice of your excellency, who
was pleased to express a desire to know the cause. At this instant a
shudder passes over me as I reflect that possibly I am now standing on
the very grave in which lies M. de Villefort, by whose hand the ground
was dug to receive the corpse of his child."
"Everything is possible," said Monte Cristo, rising from the bench on
which he had been sitting; "even," he added in an inaudible voice, "even
that the procureur be not dead. The Abbe Busoni did right to send you
to me," he went on in his ordinary tone, "and you have done well in
relating to me the whole of your history, as it will prevent my forming
any erroneous opinions concerning you in future. As for that Benedetto,
who so grossly belied his name, have you never made any effort to trace
out whither he has gone, or what has become of him?"
"No; far from wishing to learn whither he has betaken himself, I should
shun the possibility of meeting him as I would a wild beast. Thank God,
I have never heard his name mentioned by any person, and I hope and
believe he is dead."
"Do not think so, Bertuccio," replied the count; "for the wicked are
not so easily disposed of, for God seems to have them under his special
watch-care to make of them instruments of his vengeance."
"So be it," responded Bertuccio, "all I ask of heaven is that I may
never see him again. And now, your excellency," he added, bowing his
head, "you know everything--you are my judge on earth, as the Almighty
is in heaven; have you for me no words of consolation?"
"My good friend, I can only repeat the words addressed to you by the
Abbe Busoni. Villefort merited punishment for what he had done to you,
and, perhaps, to others. Benedetto, if still living, will become the
instrument of divine retribution in some way or other, and then be duly
punished in his turn. As far as you yourself are concerned, I see but
one point in which you are really guilty. Ask yourself, wherefore, after
rescuing the infant from its living grave, you did not restore it to its
mother? There was the crime, Bertuccio--that was where you became really
culpable."
"True, excellency, that was the crime, the real crime, for in that
I acted like a coward. My first duty, directly I had succeeded in
recalling the babe to life, was to restore it to its mother; but, in
order to do so, I must have made close and careful inquiry, which would,
in all probability, have led to my own apprehension; and I clung to
life, partly on my sister's account, and partly from that feeling
of pride inborn in our hearts of desiring to come off untouched and
victorious in the execution of our vengeance. Perhaps, too, the natural
and instinctive love of life made me wish to avoid endangering my
own. And then, again, I am not as brave and courageous as was my poor
brother." Bertuccio hid his face in his hands as he uttered these words,
while Monte Cristo fixed on him a look of inscrutable meaning. After
a brief silence, rendered still more solemn by the time and place, the
count said, in a tone of melancholy wholly unlike his usual manner, "In
order to bring this conversation to a fitting termination (the last we
shall ever hold upon this subject), I will repeat to you some words I
have heard from the lips of the Abbe Busoni. For all evils there are
two remedies--time and silence. And now leave me, Monsieur Bertuccio, to
walk alone here in the garden. The very circumstances which inflict
on you, as a principal in the tragic scene enacted here, such painful
emotions, are to me, on the contrary, a source of something like
contentment, and serve but to enhance the value of this dwelling in my
estimation. The chief beauty of trees consists in the deep shadow of
their umbrageous boughs, while fancy pictures a moving multitude of
shapes and forms flitting and passing beneath that shade. Here I have
a garden laid out in such a way as to afford the fullest scope for the
imagination, and furnished with thickly grown trees, beneath whose leafy
screen a visionary like myself may conjure up phantoms at will. This to
me, who expected but to find a blank enclosure surrounded by a straight
wall, is, I assure you, a most agreeable surprise. I have no fear of
ghosts, and I have never heard it said that so much harm had been done
by the dead during six thousand years as is wrought by the living in a
single day. Retire within, Bertuccio, and tranquillize your mind. Should
your confessor be less indulgent to you in your dying moments than you
found the Abbe Busoni, send for me, if I am still on earth, and I will
soothe your ears with words that shall effectually calm and soothe your
parting soul ere it goes forth to traverse the ocean called eternity."
Bertuccio bowed respectfully, and turned away, sighing heavily. Monte
Cristo, left alone, took three or four steps onwards, and murmured,
"Here, beneath this plane-tree, must have been where the infant's grave
was dug. There is the little door opening into the garden. At this
corner is the private staircase communicating with the sleeping
