The lady put the letter and the note in her pocket, and as the old lady entered with a cup of steaming bouillon, she hesitatingly said:
"Did the priest tell you I was going to stay here over night?"
"Yes, madame! Your room is ready, and I hope you will sleep soundly," replied the woman, cordially.
"The house is safe?" asked Madame Danglars, looking anxiously about.
"Certainly, madame; we are hid here as if in Abraham's bosom."
The lady drank the bouillon, and then said:
"Will you please show me my room?"
"Yes, madame! I hope it will please you," replied the woman, as she walked up the stairs, followed by the lady.
Here she opened a door, and the stranger looked in and saw a large, plainly furnished room. At one side stood a snow-white bed, a washstand, some chairs, and an old-fashioned bureau.
"Does this closet lock?" asked Madame Danglars, examining the lock. "I have a jewel-case in the coach which I would like to bring to a place of security."
"Ah, the closet is as safe as the poor-box," the old lady assured her.
The lady nodded her pleasure at this, and, after she had convinced herself that the door of the room was in order, she went back to the coach, took a portfolio from the jewel-casket, and brought it to the vicarage. The old lady awaited her at the door; Madame Danglars walked past her and went to the upper story, opened the closet, put the box in it, closed the door carefully, and put bothkeys in her pocket. She then went downstairs again, and, turning to the old woman, said:
"For the present, good-by; I shall probably be back again before night."
"Good-by, madame; but do not stay out too late. A storm is coming up, and the roads of Oliolles are dangerous at night."
"I will try to be back soon. Adieu."
Madame Danglars got into her carriage and drove off in the direction of Toulon.
The feelings of the poor woman, who was going to the Bagnio to see Benedetto as she had promised, can be imagined. She had seen all her hopes reduced to nothing. Her husband had fled after a shameful bankruptcy, her lover had deserted her, her daughter had disappeared without leaving a word behind her, and what was left to her? The child of her shame, who had been sentenced to the galleys for murder.
She had sacrificed everything for this son, whom she loved dearly; the Jesuits had taken her million, and saved Benedetto from the gallows. Though, to her idea, the galleys was worse than death; but there was a chance of his getting free. No, she did not wish to think any more; she would bury herself in a convent in Asia Minor, and forget everything.
Toulon was at length reached; the driver took the road to the port, and she felt her heart cease beating. In a little while she would see Benedetto; the carriage stopped; the driver got out and opened the door.
"Will you please step out? Here is the Bagnio."
With trembling limbs, Madame Danglars left the coach, and slipping a few gold pieces into his hand, she said:
"Make yourself comfortable in the nearest saloon; in about three hours we shall return home."
"To-day, madame?" asked the man; "that would be impossible."
"Why impossible? Get fresh horses, I will pay you for everything."
"I am very sorry, madame, but the storm, the mistral will come very soon, and while the mistral lasts we cannot ride."
"Then I must look for another driver; I cannot delay my return."
"Madame, believe me, you will not find any one who will drive you while the storm lasts. Wait till to-morrow. I will put up my horses at the Black Eagle and await your commands there."
"I will think about it, but doubt whether I shall follow your advice. Adieu."
Madame Danglars entered the office of the port inspector and the driver drove off.
"Well, what is the matter now?" asked the inspector, gruffly, as Madame Danglars handed him the priest's letter. He grumblingly opened the letter, but when he had read its contents his face lighted up and, making a respectful bow, he said:
"Madame, after reading these lines, I can only carry out all your wishes, as far as they are confined within the limits of the rules in force here. You desire to see one of our prisoners?"
"Yes, sir."
"You are aware that such an interview can only take place in the presence of the chaplain?"
Madame Danglars became frightened. She had not expected this.
"I will have the chaplain informed," continued the official. "In fact, I shall let him come into my office. This is a special favor. Yesterday there was a lady here to see Benedetto, who was not permitted to converse withhim except in the presence of the port inspector and the jailer."
"A lady?" exclaimed Madame Danglars, vivaciously. "Can you tell me who she was?"
"Oh, certainly, it was Mademoiselle de Villefort, the daughter of the recently deceased district-attorney."
"Monsieur de Villefort is dead?" said Madame Danglars in a choking voice.
"Yes, madame, he died in a private lunatic asylum in Paris. Did you know the gentleman?"
"Yes, slightly," replied Madame Danglars, restraining her emotion. "If you would let the gentleman be informed now—"
"At once, madame," said the official.
He wrote a few lines and went away, promising to return shortly. In about half an hour the chaplain appeared. He bowed respectfully, and said:
"Madame, I am aware of the reason which brings you here."
"What, you know?" exclaimed Madame Danglars, frightened.
"Calm yourself, madame; the secrets which are intrusted to me are buried. I must witness your interview as a matter of form, but I shall neither hear nor see."
Madame Danglars with tears in her eyes thanked the chaplain. The next minute the door opened and Benedetto appeared, accompanied by the jailer. When the poor mother saw the yellow and red clothing, the green cap, and the chain which led from the waist to the ankle, she uttered a low cry and clutched the arm of a chair to prevent herself from fainting. Upon a wink from thechaplain, who wore the dress of a Jesuit priest, the jailer departed, and after the priest had closed the door, he turned toward Benedetto, and said:
"My son, thank God for his mercy, and try to show yourself worthy of it."
Neither Madame Danglars nor the priest noticed the smile which flitted across the convict's face. Benedetto collected himself immediately, and taking off his hat he bent his knee to his mother and crossed his eyes with his hand. The priest sat in the window alcove, pulled a prayer-book out of his pocket and began to read; Madame Danglars threw a look around, then she took the bald-shaved head of Benedetto in her hands and sobbingly murmured:
"My poor, poor son!"
"A thousand thanks, mother, for coming," said the hypocritical convict.
"Oh, I desired to come, it was necessary for me to see you again," stammered the poor woman.
"How good you are! Are you aware that my father pursued me even on his death-bed? He sent his daughter, my sister, here; she brought me his last regards, but she did not give me her hand nor call me brother."
"My son, forget everything bad that has been done to you; forgive your enemies, as you desire to be yourself forgiven," implored the poor mother.
"For your sake, then. But, tell me, mother, are you really going to leave France?"
"Yes; to-morrow, at this hour, I shall sail."
"But you are not going alone; the journey is so far, and I fear danger for you."
"Thanks, Benedetto, for your anxiety. How happy you make me. But calm yourself, I shall dwell in the society of pious women, who will protect me."
"Yes, I forgot. You gave your fortune to buy this protection—the price you paid was pretty steep."
"Benedetto, you blaspheme. Your life is not too dear for me to purchase."
"I wish I could earn your love," murmured Benedetto, apparently annihilated; "you gave up a million to rescue me. If you had more money, I am sure you would sacrifice it to secure my full pardon."
"Oh, I do not give up all hope yet," exclaimed Madame Danglars, vivaciously.
"What? Have you still got the million?" asked Benedetto, hastily.
"I shall not deliver the money before to-morrow. But that has nothing to do with the matter. What I have promised, I keep."
Benedetto remained silent, while a thousand confused ideas ran through his mind. He stood with downcast eyes, his left hand carelessly stroking his chain and his right crumpling his green cap.
"Mother," he finally said, in a low voice, "there is no use speaking of the past—let us think of the future. You are going to depart to-morrow; where are you staying now?"
"I live at the vicarage of Beaussuet. The Jesuit fathers recommended me there, and I am staying there over-night, although the priest is absent."
"Oh, God!" sobbed Benedetto, "if I could only accompany you."
"I would be glad, too; I have a rough road to goback to Beaussuet. The mistral blows, and the roads of Oliolles are said to be so dangerous that my driver refuses to take me back to-night. Well, I will find another one."
"But why do you not stay in Toulon until the morning?"
"Impossible. I must hurry back to Beaussuet. I left the money at the vicarage."
"Wasn't that careless? A lonely vicarage, whose owner is absent—"
"I took good care of it; the portfolio containing the money is stowed safely away in a tight closet, the key of which I carry."
"But the portfolio must be a large one. It is not so easy to wrap up a million," said Benedetto, inquisitively.
"Yes, if I had to deliver the whole sum in coin; but that is not the case. Only a small part of the million is in gold, the rest is in bank-notes."
Benedetto nodded. He knew now exactly what he had desired to find out, and as the chaplain rose, and gently hinted that the time for the interview had expired, the convict turned to his mother, and weepingly said:
"Bless me, mother."
Madame Danglars placed her trembling hands on his head, and tenderly whispered:
"God be with you!"
Her strength deserted her; and while Benedetto was being led out by a jailer, she leaned faintingly against a chair.
The priest consoled her. She sorrowfully shook herhead, collected herself, slipped a thousand-franc note into the priest's hand, and murmured:
"Give that to those who are as unhappy as I am."
The next moment she wrapped her cloak firmly about her, and strode toward the inn where the driver awaited her.
"Well," said Anselmo to his comrade as the latter returned, "how do things stand?"
Benedetto did not answer at first, but seated himself on a block of wood and looked steadfastly before him.
"Well, has the million been stolen?" asked Anselmo, growing impatient.
"No, the million is safe for us," replied Benedetto.
"So much the better. This mistral is very favorable to us. It helps our escape."
"Really? Anselmo, we must be free in two hours."
"I shall look out for that—but what will happen then? Have you a plan?"
"Yes. Do you know the village of Beaussuet?"
"Yes. It is near the gorge of Oliolles."
"Right. We must reach this village to-night, even though we run the danger of being caught and brought back, if we escape by daylight."
"What are you talking about? There is no daylight to-day. One can hardly see one's hand now, and in two hours it will be night."
"But suppose we should be locked up in the pontoons?"
"That is what I desire. We must flee by way of the pontoons."
"And our chains?"
"Have you forgotten our little Rat King?"
"You are talking nonsense again."
"Listen, Benedetto. When a million is involved, I never joke. The saw our necessary carries will cut our chains in ten minutes. And now to work. Here comes the overseer."
The convicts grasped one of the heavy logs and pretended to be working hard peeling off the rind. As Anselmo had rightly predicted, one could not see one's own hand, and no one observed Anselmo and his companion glide toward the pontoon, which was empty.
"Lie flat on the ground," Anselmo ordered, "and feel about with your hands."
Benedetto did as he was told. Suddenly he uttered a low cry as his hand came in contact with a dark object, which flitted about.
"What a noise you make," grumbled Anselmo. "You have disturbed our poor little Rat King from his work."
"Ah, now I feel a split, too. Has the rat gnawed it through?" whispered Benedetto, gleefully.
"Certainly. The courageous animal has been working to free us for over a month. As you might have noticed, I smeared the floor of our pontoon with grease, in consequence of which our shrewd rat has spent all his spare moments here, and now his business is ended. The boards are gnawed through."
"Ah! then we are to escape by swimming?" asked Benedetto, surprised.
"Have you finally found out? You are not afraid, are you?"
"No, no!" exclaimed Benedetto hastily. "Freedom at any price."
"Now you please me! Let us go now and take up our work again before our absence is noticed."
"One word more! Have you thought of our clothes?"
"I have thought of everything. Trust in me."
The convicts returned to their work, but soon after the weather became so bad that the jailers stopped work and formed the prisoners in columns to return them to the pontoons. The storm broke with such fury that the masts snapped and the sails flew about. A piece of a mast knocked a convict overboard, and when he was fished up his skull was found to be fractured. A cry of terror ran through the lines and the jailers hastened to bring the columns to the pontoons. Benedetto and Anselmo cowered in their corners and listened to the roar of the mistral. The louder it became, the more their hearts beat with joy.
"Are you ready?" whispered Anselmo to his comrade.
"Yes."
"Then forward! It is a question of life or death."
They both lay flat on the ground and Anselmo drew from a hole a package wrapped in sail cloth. "Here, take this package," the ex-priest told his companion, "and give it to me as soon as I am in the water. Do you see the plank which our little pet gnawed through? Well, it can be shoved aside, and by that way we come to a cave where instruments and nails are kept. In this cave is a door, to which I have the key which locks it.Now pay attention; I am turning the key. Forward, in the devil's name!" Through the open door Anselmo carefully glided into the water, which surged and roared. Benedetto handed him the package and glided likewise into the river, and while the pontoon creaked and groaned, torn by the force of the storm, the two convicts disappeared in the darkness.
Madame Danglars had returned to the inn and asked feverishly for fresh horses, so as to be able to drive to Beaussuet. The innkeeper politely assured her it was impossible to carry out her wishes. Madame Danglars, without changing a muscle, looked steadily at the man. To her idea money could do anything, and she therefore opened her purse, and placing five hundred francs on the table, asked once more for fresh horses. The innkeeper immediately remembered that there was a man in Toulon who would risk his own and his horses' lives for money, and he sent a messenger for him. Two long hours passed before the messenger returned. He brought a favorable answer. Father Jacob, that was the man's name, would come at four o'clock with two good horses.
"Who is this Father Jacob?" asked Madame Danglars of the innkeeper.
"Oh, he is a former city boarder," replied the host, laughing, as he gave a suggestive glance in the direction of the Bagnio.
Madame Danglars shuddered.
"Does he know how to drive?" she asked.
"Like Satan. He used to be a driver of the mail coach, but got a few years in the galleys for assisting robbers to plunder the mails. He is now, however, a good, honest man, and you can safely trust yourself to his care."
What was the baroness to do? She patiently sat down, and breathed more freely when the clock struck four, and the expected coachman arrived with two splendid horses.
"So you want to drive me to Beaussuet?" asked Madame Danglars, vivaciously.
"Yes, madame, for five hundred francs."
"Then harness your horses at once."
"But," stammered the ex-convict, scratching his head, "I make it a rule to take money in advance."
"Good! Here is the money, and go quick, because I am in a hurry."
"I am in a hurry to go too. The roads will not get any better, and the mountain passes of Oliolles are not easy to ride over, even in good weather."
In less than a quarter of an hour, the baroness sat in the coach. The innkeeper stood at the door, and, as the horses started, he whispered to the coachman: "Take care of yourself, old fellow. You know you have every reason to be prudent."
"I will be so," replied Jacob, as he whipped the horses and drove off.
In the meantime, the storm continued with unabated vigor, tearing up trees, rolling the waves mountains high, and sometimes shaking the heavy coach as if it had been a feather. The horses seemed to care as littlefor the weather as the coachman. Madame Danglars, however, became terribly excited, and, sobbing bitterly, cowered in a corner of the carriage. Around about her, as within her, all was dark. She still thought she heard the rattling of Benedetto's chains in the roar and fury of the storm—she thought she could distinguish the soft voice of Benedetto. Suddenly a sharp jolt was felt, the coachman uttered an oath, and Madame Danglars sank in a semi-unconscious condition against the cushions of the coach.
When she recovered herself she became aware that one of the horses had stumbled; the coachman was still swearing, and tried to raise the animal up. Suddenly he came to the carriage door, and grumblingly said:
"Madame, I must give you your money back. We will not be able to reach Beaussuet."
The storm whistled and roared with bitter fury. Madame Danglars looked anxiously at the man, and in a hollow voice asked:
"Where are we?"
"The devil only knows. These passes look all alike."
"But we cannot remain here. What would become of us?" said the poor woman sobbing.
"Come, come, do not carry on so," Jacob consolingly said.
"These passes have always been dangerous. Thirty years ago I met with a misfortune at this same place; oh, when I think of that time—"
The face of the ex-convict darkened; Madame Danglars looked anxiously at him, and murmured softly:
"May God have mercy upon me!"
The man paused for a moment and then said:
"I know another way out of the difficulty. We could return to Oliolles, which is fifteen minutes distant, and some one there would fix my axle, which the horse in falling broke. We could wait at Oliolles until the storm subsides. It won't rage so furiously long. I know the mistral well."
"And you promise me you will go ahead again as soon as the storm is over?"
"As true as I stand here," the man replied.
Madame Danglars rose up and got out, while Jacob unharnessed the horses and took one of the coach lamps in his hand.
"Now follow me," he said, holding the lantern aloft.
He threw the reins about his arm and strode bravely along, while Madame Danglars slowly walked behind.
As Jacob had said, the storm had decreased in intensity. A fine rain poured down, and the poor woman strode on with renewed courage.
Suddenly the storm cast a curiously formed thing at the feet of the pedestrians. Jacob picked it up and laughed loudly, as he put a convict's green cap, for such it was, upon his head.
"Almighty God!" exclaimed Madame Danglars in terror.
"Madame," said Jacob, confused, "I did not want to frighten you. I was only glad to see such a cap after so long a time."
"How did the cap get here?" asked Madame Danglars, excitedly.
"That is easy to say. A convict has thought fit to free himself from the kindly care of the Bagnioattendants, and as the beautiful costume of the galley slaves is universally known, he has changed his toilet and thrown his cap, jacket and trousers to the winds."
Madame Danglars became excited, but she kept silent. They soon reached the house at Oliolles. The church bell of the village struck eight o'clock. Jacob went to the nearest inn, and, tying his horses to a tree, he entered the smoky little saloon, accompanied by his companion.
The innkeeper immediately hurried toward them, and while Madame Danglars ordered a glass of brandy for the coachman, the latter went to the kitchen to get the nails and cords he required to fix his broken axle. He threw the green cap carelessly on the table. Several people who sat there threw curious glances at the despised head-dress. Finally one of them said:
"Where did you get that pretty cap?"
"My coachman found it," said Madame Danglars softly.
"On the road?" exclaimed the men, rising as if electrified.
"We must hurry! Who is going along?"
"I—I!" came from all sides, and, as Madame Danglars looked from one to the other, the innkeeper said:
"There is a reward, madame, given by the city of Toulon for the capture of an escaped convict, and where a convict's cap is found they naturally conclude that the owner must be near at hand. At present wages are low, and one must not blame our peasants if they try to make something extra. I can guarantee you that the prisoner will be captured before two hours more have passed."
"The escaped convict cannot have been long in the Bagnio!" exclaimed a peasant looking closely at the cap. "The thing is almost new."
"Is there no name on the lining?" asked another.
"No, only a number—88!"
Madame Danglars gave a loud scream and with difficulty stammered:
"Show me the cap?"
Yes, there could be no doubt, the cap bore the number 88, the same which she had noticed on Benedetto's clothing. Had he escaped? And now these people wished to hunt him down like a wild animal, and he would not be able to hide from them.
"We must be going," said one of the peasants; "the convict cannot be far away, and who knows but we shall have luck and find two. It seldom happens that one escapes alone, the double chain is a good invention. Are you all ready?"
"Listen to me, gentlemen," said Madame Danglars firmly; "I will make you a proposition. Let the convict escape."
"And our hundred francs?"
"You will lose nothing! I will give you two hundred francs. It might be a humor, but I cannot reconcile myself to the thought of having a man pursued as if he were a wild animal."
The men looked up.
"The weather is terrible," said one.
"And a bird in the hand is worth two in a bush," said another.
"But we are three?" said the third, with a look of cupidity.
"You shall have three hundred francs, but let the convict escape."
"Good, madame! Your wish shall be fulfilled," said the men, after a pause; "but suppose he should be captured by some one else?"
"That cannot be helped," said Madame Danglars. "Who knows but what the poor fellow might get free this time. I saw the Bagnio to-day, and since then I am terribly nervous. It was frightful."
At this minute a shot was heard, and a firm voice cried:
"Help! help! Hold him!"
The innkeeper ran out, followed by the men. Madame Danglars crouched in a corner, and prayed to God to let her die before she should see her son.
The door was now torn open, and a great crowd entered the room.
"Forward, you horse thief," Jacob's rough voice was heard saying; "we just captured you in time."
A man whose face was covered with blood was pushed into the room. He fought desperately, throwing chairs and tables about, and falling flat on the ground.
"Let me alone," he cried, breathlessly. "I am tied already. I cannot escape."
Madame Danglars muttered a prayer of gratitude. No, that was not Benedetto's voice.
"Yes, we have got you," replied Jacob; "but the other one who took my horse has escaped! Would you believe it," he said, turning to the people, "that the other rascal ran off with my horse? While I was getting cord and nails I heard a noise in the courtyard. I ran to the spot, and saw two men getting on the backs ofmy horses. Quick as thought I pulled out my pistol and fired. One of them fell, but before I could load again the other had disappeared! But I shall get him, and may God have mercy on him. Quick, a glass of brandy, and may the devil take him!"
While the people crowded about Jacob, Madame Danglars drew near to the convict.
"Did Benedetto accompany you?" asked Madame Danglars, softly.
Anselmo looked up surprised.
"Ha! the lady who gave me the letter for Benedetto," he murmured.—"Yes, Benedetto accompanied me."
"I want to save him; help me, and I will make you rich."
Lo! that was the lady with the million. Anselmo looked cautiously about, then whispered softly:
"Cut my cords. A knife lies over there."
Madame Danglars let her handkerchief fall on the table; when she picked it up she held a knife in her trembling hands; one cut and Anselmo was free. At the same moment she got up and stood in front of the door.
"Now, good-night," said Jacob, putting the empty glass down and drawing his pistol from his pocket.
At the same instant Anselmo sprang forward, and, seizing the pistol, he clutched Madame Danglars under the arm as if she were a child, and ran out of the room with her. Madame Danglars at once realized the situation. While Anselmo pressed against the door with all his strength, Madame Danglars, who was a splendid horsewoman, sprang into the saddle. Anselmo then letgo of the door, fired a shot into the crowd which surrounded him, and likewise bounded on to the back of the horse. The animal reared, but receiving a slight cut with the knife Madame Danglars still held in her hand, it flew like the wind, bearing the two far from their pursuers.
Benedetto, who had been told the way to Beaussuet by Anselmo, whipped his horse severely, making it fly over the stones and pavement. The vicarage was situated at the entrance to the village; the horse was covered with blood and foam, but Benedetto knew no mercy. Like a flash of lightning horse and rider flew along, and when the horse finally broke down, the first houses in the village had been reached.
Benedetto jumped off, but did not throw a look at the dying horse; he only thought of himself and his safety. He thought Anselmo had fallen into the hands of the people at Oliolles. That his companion would not betray him he knew, but the coachman had seen him and he would be pursued. There was no way out of it. He must get possession of the million, and then try to reach the coast.
Benedetto recognized the vicarage at the first glance, as his mother had described it accurately to him. An olive-tree stood inside the wall near the entrance. Benedetto took between his teeth the knife Anselmo had given him, and swung himself over the wall and thence on to the window-sill. The wretch hesitated a moment before he broke the pane. Suppose his mother uttered a cry.
"Ah, bah," he thought, "it will be her own fault."
With a quick movement he broke the glass.
Taking out a small thieves'-lantern and some matches, which Anselmo had also given him, he struck a light and looked around. The bed was empty.
"The mistral delayed her," muttered Benedetto; "I must be quick."
Hastily plunging his knife into the closet, he opened the door, and was soon in possession of the portfolio. He put it on the table and tried to open the lock with his knife. But in vain; it would not open.
At this moment his sharp ear detected the sound of horses' hoofs.
"The pursuers," he muttered, and for a moment he was dazed.
He collected himself rapidly. He did not wish to be caught, yet did not desire to lose the million. Taking the portfolio in his hand, he opened the window and was about to spring out when he paused. Unless he had the use of both of his hands, he could not hope to reach the wall, and he did not think of leaving his plunder behind him. Now he heard voices. His pursuers must have halted under the olive-tree; a horse whinnied, there was no chance of escape! He ran to the door. It was shut tight, and now it recurred to him that his mother had told him she carried the key in her pocket.
What was he to do? Alive he would not be captured, and the bandit who hesitated to draw his knife against his pursuers was a coward. He himself dreaded death, and he therefore carefully tried to remove the lock with his knife. Perhaps he could escape anyhow!
He had just removed two screws, when he heard heavysteps coming up the stairs. His pursuers were at his heels.
With the portfolio under his arm and his knife held aloof in his hand, he waited. A key was inserted in the lock now, the door opened, and a figure entered the room.
But it did not proceed far. Benedetto's knife sank down and a hot stream of blood squirted into the face of the murderer, who had struck his victim in the breast. At the same moment Benedetto felt himself seized by a hand of iron and thrown down, while a well-known voice cried in his ear:
"Miserable scoundrel, it was your mother—your mother, and you knew it!"
The man who said this in a voice of thunder was none other than Anselmo, the galley slave, the ex-priest who had disgraced his cloth, but who was innocent in comparison to his comrade Benedetto.
He shook the Corsican like a madman, and continually repeated the words:
"Scoundrel! Murderer! Monster! It is your mother!"
Madame Danglars lay groaning on the floor, the knife was buried up to the hilt in her breast, and yet she did not utter a cry as she recognized her murderer. She restrained herself with superhuman power, fearing to give the alarm to Benedetto's pursuers.
"Benedetto," she faintly whispered, "you have killed me—but you did not know it was I, did you? Oh, sir," she added, turning to Anselmo, "leave him alone, he must escape—quick!"
Anselmo obeyed. During their desperate ride, he had been told by the poor mother what Benedetto was to her.He knew Benedetto would go to the extreme, and his heart stopped beating as he thought of the unnatural son! He had urged the horse on at a wild gallop, so as to bring Benedetto's mother to the vicarage in safety. His own safety was of secondary importance to him, when it was a question of protecting a mother from the knife of her son. He intended to alarm the house; that Benedetto would arrive there before them he had not imagined.
"Sir," muttered the baroness, faintly, "swear to me that you will let Benedetto escape. Do not pursue him, and I die peacefully."
"I swear it," said Anselmo, in a hollow voice.
"Thanks, a thousand thanks! Benedetto, embrace me and fly."
The bandit stood as if transfixed, and gazed at the dying woman, and only when Anselmo touched him by the arm and drew him to the groaning woman, exclaiming: "Do as she says, or I will kill you," did he condescend to press his forehead to her cold lips.
"Benedetto," she whispered faintly.
Her breath ceased—she was dead.
"I have the million," said Benedetto, after a pause, "come!"
Instead of answering, Anselmo tore the knife from out of the breast of the dead woman and, holding it toward the son, hissed:
"Go, monster, or I shall break my oath and kill you."
Benedetto hesitated no longer, took the portfolio which lay on the floor, and bounded down the stairs.
Since that eventful evening at the vicarage of Beaussuet eight days have passed. On the evening of the eighth day a sharp northeast wind blew and whipped the waves of the Mediterranean Sea so violently that they rose mountain high and almost buried a small frigate under their white caps. The captain of the frigate stood at the helm and hoarsely roared out his commands to the sailors, but they did not understand him, and when the storm tore off the mainmast a loud outcry was heard. The captain was the only one who did not lose his senses. With his axe he chopped off the remaining pieces of the mast, and turning to his crew, his face convulsed with passion, he said:
"Thunder and lightning! what do you mean by disobeying my orders? Have you got cotton in your ears?"
"No, captain," replied the oldest sailor, "we do not disobey your orders, but why should we carry them out, since we are lost anyhow?"
As if in confirmation of his words a terrific wind threw the frigate on its side, and even the captain could hardly sustain himself on his feet.
"You are miserable cowards," he cried to the sailors; "one would imagine you had never seen a storm before! Do you still remember how the frigate was almost wrecked off Malta, and yet we saved our lives then?—"
"Yes, captain," interrupted a sailor, "but that was different."
"How so? What do you mean? Open your mouth, or—"
"That time we did not have any branded men on board," said the sailor, firmly.
"No branded men? Are you mad?"
"No, captain; but so long as we have these unhappy men on board the storm rages, and neither God nor the devil can save us. Look over there; there he lies on the floor, and, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!—another such a crash and we shall be food for the sharks!"
Unconsciously the captain looked in the direction indicated. A man, whose face could not be seen, lay flat on the vessel, his arms nervously clutching a package enveloped in a piece of sail-cloth. Now and then a tremor ran through his frame. He was apparently greatly frightened.
"What's the matter with the man?" asked the captain, gruffly.
"When he came on board at St. Tropez he was covered with blood, and—"
"Well, what then?"
"Well, his hair is shaved clean to the skin, as if he just came from the Bagnio."
"One would think," exclaimed the captain, loudly, "you are all saints. Do you remember, Pietro, what you had done before I shipped you?"
"Bah! I killed a Custom House officer, that is no crime."
"So, and what was the matter with you, Rosario?"
"Captain," answered Rosario, proudly, "you ought to know what a vendetta is."
"Didn't I say so? You are all as innocent as newborn babes. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves."
In spite of his apparent indifference, the captain felt inwardly uneasy, and the sailors' statements appeared to him to be well founded.
About four days before, as the frigate lay at anchor at St. Tropez, a man had approached the captain and offered him three thousand francs if he would take him along and land him on the Italian coast. Gennaro, the captain and owner of a smuggling vessel, did not hesitate long. Three thousand francs was a large sum, and as the passenger paid cash he overlooked certain things which he might otherwise have noticed. The closely shaved head pointed to a former galley slave, but as he conducted himself well on board and kept out of every one's way, the captain no longer thought about it.
The sailors, however, thought differently. With that superstition peculiar to Italians, they blamed the strange passenger for all the mishaps which had befallen the vessel since the "Shaven Redhead," as they called him, had come on board the vessel. On the first night a sudden storm carried away the rudder, on the second day one of the planks near the helm split, and the storm kept on increasing, finally reaching such a height that even Gennaro, the veteran sailor, could not remember to have ever seen one like it.
The boatswain now approached Gennaro.
"Well, Mello," said the captain, trying to appear indifferent, "do you also think the frigate is lost because the branded man is on board?"
"Yes," replied Mello, briefly, "if God does not perform a miracle."
At this moment a terrific crash was heard, and with loud cries the sailors rushed on deck.
"A waterspout; we are sinking!" they exclaimed, terror-stricken. "Help, captain, help!"
Immense waves of water poured over the deck and tore away part of the stern, making a deep hole in the frigate, which rapidly filled with water.
"To the pumps, men!" exclaimed Gennaro—"to the pumps!"
This time his command was immediately obeyed. The feeling of self-protection was stronger than their superstition, and the sailors were soon hard at work at the pumps.
Only two persons remained behind.
"Pietro," said one of them to the other, "are you anxious to swallow water?"
"Corpo di Dio, no!"
"How do you expect to save yourself?"
"Oh, there is still a remedy!"
The men exchanged knowing looks, and then one of them whispered:
"Be careful; do not let the captain hear of it; he might hinder us."
"He would be foolish enough to do so. We are heading straight for Elba, on the rocks of which we will be hopelessly dashed, if we do not take our steps beforehand. Let me attend to it as soon as she lies in the water."
As he said this, he looked toward the stranger, who was still lying motionless on the deck.
"Comrade," said Pietro to the stranger, "are you aware that we are sinking?"
A look of horror met the speaker, and then Benedetto, for it was he, said:
"Is there no rescue possible?"
"Oh, yes; with money you can do anything."
"Then rescue me, and I will pay you what you ask."
"Then listen. The frigate has but one boat. Follow us and make no noise. We will get into the boat and push off. For the rest, may God look out."
Benedetto nodded. When had he ever said no to any deviltry?
With staggering steps he followed the two sailors.
"Here!" exclaimed Pietro.
Benedetto could not see his hands before his eyes and blindly followed his guides. Suddenly he felt himself grasped by strong arms, and the next minute he was hurled headlong into the sea. The sailors had thrown him overboard to save the ship!
The package enveloped in sail cloth, and which contained his fortune, the wretch firmly clasped.
The waves threw him here and there. He lost consciousness. Suddenly he came to; a wave had thrown him upon a rock, and his forehead struck violently on a sharp stone. A dark stream of blood flowed over the pale face of the parricide, and heaving a deep sigh he lost consciousness anew.
The storm had subsided and the stars shone clear and bright upon the softly rippling sea as a yacht plowed swiftly through the blue waters. A man enveloped in a long cloak leaned with folded arms against the railing and thoughtfully peered into the stream. He shuddered slightly as a small white hand was softly laid upon his arm. The next minute, however, he grasped the hand, pressed it to his lips, and gazed tenderly with his sparkling eyes, which shone like dark stars, upon a handsome young woman.
The young woman wore the costume of the inhabitants of Epirus; the fine white silk dress, which inclosed the slim, beautifully shaped form, looked like freshly fallen snow, and the embroidered flowers on her broad belt could hardly be distinguished from real plants.
"My darling," said the man softly, as he pressed a kiss upon the raven-black hair.
"Oh, how I love you, my friend, my husband," she whispered in the same tone.
"Did the storm frighten you, Haydee?" asked the man anxiously.
"I am never frightened when you are near me," thepretty Greek laughingly replied; "you ought to know me better."
"Nature, Haydee, is sometimes stronger than the will of man."
"But God supervises the actions of nature, as he does the hearts of men," said Haydee, casting a look full of childish confidence at the starry sky.
"Are you aware, Haydee, that we shall reach our destination in an hour?"
"Yes, and when we land at Monte-Cristo you will tell me the story of your life, and I shall then find out the nature of the sorrow you have undergone."
"Haydee, the sorrow belongs to the past; the future at your side has in store for me only joy and happiness. From your pure lips the sentence, whether I am to be damned or saved, must come."
At this moment an old sailor approached them and in a tone of awe said:
"Count, are we going to Monte-Cristo?"
"Yes, Jacopo; you and your men stay on board, while Bertuccio and Ali accompany us. We shall only stay a few hours. Send Ali to me, and see to it that the yacht reaches its destination soon."
Jacopo bowed, and shortly afterward Ali appeared.
"Ali," said the count, turning to the Nubian, "have you carried out my orders?"
Ali folded his arms across his breast and nodded his head.
"And you know that your life is at stake?"
Ali again nodded.
"Good; you can go."
"You frighten me," said Haydee, clinging to thecount. "Ali is so devoted to you, and if we should lose him—"
"Have no fear, child; we will not lose him if he does his duty."
Like lightning the Ice Bird—for such was the name of the yacht—flew over the hot waves, which were bathed in the first rays of the morning sun, and soon the rude rocks of the island of Monte-Cristo were in view of the travellers. Haydee stood leaning against her husband's shoulder, and watched the play of the glistening waves, while before Monte-Cristo's eyes the past rose like a vision.
Ten years before, in February, 1829, Jacopo had taken him, who had passed fourteen long years in the Chateau d'If, into his service. Caderousse, Ferdinand, Danglars, and Villefort had been his enemies, and now justice had overtaken all of them. The treasure of the Abbe Faria had placed Edmond Dantes in a position to play an important part in the world as the Count of Monte-Cristo, and, now that he saw his plans realized, and the traitors punished, Monte-Cristo felt his soul stirred by doubts. Faria had intended to establish the unity of Italy with the legendary wealth of the Spadas. Later on he had given his treasure to Edmond Dantes to do with as he pleased; like the angel with the fiery sword, Monte-Cristo had punished the guilty, and now—
"Count," said Bertuccio, "we shall land directly. Have you any new order for me?"
"No, Bertuccio; you know my orders for Ali; they suffice."
Bertuccio departed, and immediately afterward the ship came to anchor.
The count laid his arm on the shoulder of the pretty Greek, and tenderly led her to the boat in waiting. Ali and Bertuccio followed, and the little vessel, driven by four strong oarsmen, flew like an arrow through the water.
The boat soon reached the beach, and Monte-Cristo carried Haydee in his arms to land. He motioned to Bertuccio and Ali, and, turning to the sailors, said:
"Come back for us in two hours."
The bark disappeared, and Monte-Cristo walked in the direction of the grotto. Haydee followed him, feeling as if she were entering some sanctuary, since it was at Monte-Cristo that she became the wife of the man whom she loved above everything else in the world.
The count divined the young woman's thoughts and drawing her toward him, he whispered: "My darling, at this place you became mine. To-day I wish to hear from your own lips whether I really deserve my happiness."
The subterranean palace housed the travellers. Fragrant perfumes filled the magnificent halls, and in the light of the wax candles the gold and silver service shone with fairy-like splendor.
Monte-Cristo conducted Haydee to a charming boudoir; her feet sank in wavy carpets, and after she had seated herself with incomparable grace on a divan, the count stood beside her and proceeded to relate the story of his life. It was a long time before he had finished his tale. Haydee felt with him the horrors of his prison, she sobbed as he described the death of Faria, whom he called his spiritual father, and cried out in terror as she heard that the cemetery of Chateau d'If was the widesea! Then he had dug out Faria's treasure. How rich he thought himself then, and how poor he was at the moment when he set foot on the land and heard that his father had died of starvation, and that Mercedes, his bride, had forgotten him and married the man who had betrayed him.
He had sworn then that he would revenge himself and punish all those who had sinned against him. Villefort, Caderousse, Danglars and Morcerf had succumbed to him, and he could now triumphantly exclaim: "I am your master; I have punished all of you as you have deserved."
"Haydee," said Monte-Cristo finally, "what is your decision?"
"That you have fulfilled the mission which God has placed in your hands according to his wish and desire. God was with you, for you have dealt out justice," exclaimed Haydee, her eyes sparkling.
"And now, Haydee—now—"
"Now justice is satisfied and you will become merciful," whispered the young woman softly.
"I wish to do so, Haydee, so help me God; for each act of revenge I will place a good deed in the eternal scales, and the years which still remain to me shall be devoted to the noblest aims of humanity. I—"
Suddenly Monte-Cristo paused, a slight motion from Ali showed that something unexpected had happened, and, hastily drawing Haydee with him, he left the grotto.
"What's the matter, Ali?" he asked, turning to the Nubian, who stood uneasily on a sharp ledge of the rock.
Ali threw himself at full length on the ground and closed his eyes.
"Ah!" exclaimed the count, "you have a man on this rock?"
Ali nodded gleefully.
"And do you know who he is?"
Ali's look expressed doubt. He put his hand to his forehead and shook his head to indicate that his memory had deserted him.
"Is the man wounded?"
"Yes," nodded Ali.
"Dead?"
"No," shaking his head.
"But he is not able to move?"
Ali's face lighted up again when he saw he was understood.
"Haydee," said the count, turning to his wife, "I look upon it as a good sign that God has permitted me at this minute to do an act of charity. Remain here, while I go with Ali to save the poor fellow."
"I shall accompany you," said Haydee, pleadingly; "let me take part in your good deeds."
"Then come, my darling," said Monte-Cristo, in whose eye a tear glistened, and they both followed Ali, who hurried toward the beach.
As they passed by the entrance to the grotto, Haydee noticed that Bertuccio was making a hole in the rock with his pickaxe.
"What is Bertuccio doing?" asked Haydee, curiously.
"You shall find out later on," replied the count, and, turning to Bertuccio, he asked in a low voice:
"Is the work nearly finished?"
"Almost, count. I have just one thing more to do, and as soon as you give the sign, all will be over."
"Very well, Bertuccio, and now follow us."
The Corsican looked wonderingly at the count, and, taking his pick in his hand, walked behind. When they had reached the rear part of the little island, Ali paused and pointed to a rock which projected into the sea.
Monte-Cristo's eyes followed the Nubian's direction, and he recognized a human body lying at full length upon a rock. The face was turned aside, and a dark pool of blood indicated a wound. The man's right hand convulsively clutched a package. With a bound Monte-Cristo had reached the side of the motionless man, and taking him in his strong arms, he carried him to a small grass plot and carefully laid him down.
"Ali," he ordered, "run to the grotto and get some rum. Do not lose a minute, it is a question of life and death."
The Nubian departed, and Monte-Cristo laid his hand upon the wounded man's breast.
"He still lives," he exclaimed, breathing more freely, "and with God's help we will save him."
Suddenly a terrible cry was heard behind him, and Bertuccio stammeringly exclaimed:
"Oh, sir, it is the wretch, the murderer! Do you not recognize him?"
The count bent over the wounded man, and washing the blood from his face he exclaimed in horror:
"Really, it is Benedetto!"
"Back, sir," cried Bertuccio in a rage, as he swung his pickaxe, "I will crush the viper's skull."
The pick cleaved through the air, but before it descended on Benedetto's head, the count had grasped it, and with a powerful movement hurled it into the sea.
"Bertuccio," he said coldly, "what right have you to play the judge in my presence?"
"Oh, sir, pardon. Anger overcame me. Benedetto burned Assunta, my sister-in-law and his foster mother, so as to get her money; he only lived from robbery and murder."
"He is a man, he must be saved."
Ali came now with the rum. The count poured a few drops into Benedetto's throat, Haydee rubbed his temples, and in a few minutes the wretch uttered a deep sigh and his lips moved, though his eyes still remained closed.
The count examined the wound.
"He will live," he said decisively. "The wound is not dangerous."
"It would be better for society if he died," hissed Bertuccio.
"Bertuccio," said the count sternly, "get some water and wash out this wound."
"But, count, I—"
"Yes, you! Either you obey, or we shall separate."
Bertuccio hurried away and soon returned with some water. He trembled with rage, as he washed Benedetto's wound, but he did not dare to say a word.
Haydee had in the meantime loosened a cord from the package and discovered a small oaken box, which she tried in vain to open. The count noticed it, and after he had carefully examined the lock, he murmured:
"I will try to open it with my key."
He really succeeded in doing it. The cover flew open, and the count could not repress a cry of surprise when he saw the pile of gold and bank-notes.
"Count," said Bertuccio, approaching, "he is opening his eyes."
"Did he recognize you?"
"Oh, no, he is still confused."
"So much the better. Keep yourself at a distance. He will recover."
"What is this?" exclaimed Bertuccio, catching a glimpse of the contents of the box. "It must be the spoils of some new robbery."
"Undoubtedly," said the count; "but, stay, there is a letter under these bank-notes which might clear up the mystery."
"My son," ran the letter, "I will send this letter to you on the eve of my departure from France. You have forgiven me. To-morrow I shall see you for the last time. May God be with you and place you under his protection. Your mother, H. D."
Monte-Cristo shuddered.
"Hermine Danglars," he muttered to himself. "Poor, poor woman!"
Shoving Bertuccio aside, he bent over Benedetto, and said, in a voice which penetrated the deepest depths of the soul:
"Benedetto, hear me!"
A shiver ran through the wretch, but the dark eyes remained closed.
"Benedetto," continued Monte-Cristo, sternly, "you have killed your mother. Shame upon you, parricide."
This time Benedetto opened his eyes in terror, and in a faint voice murmured:
"My mother! Yes, yes. Mercy!"
Monte-Cristo rose. His gaze met that of Bertuccio, in which he read a silent question.
"Are you still going to be charitable?" asked Bertuccio's eye. "The wretch has murdered the mother who bore him? Does he deserve mercy?"
Just then a merry sailor-song was heard. The bark of the Ice Bird appeared on the beach to fetch the passengers.
"Jacopo," exclaimed Monte-Cristo aloud, "listen!"
Jacopo stood up in the bark, and looked closely at the count, who called out some words in Maltese dialect to him.
Immediately a sailor jumped from the bark into the sea and swam toward the Ice Bird, while Jacopo with the two other sailors jumped on land.
"Bring some provisions from the grotto," ordered the count.
Jacopo and Ali did as they were told, and while the sailors carried the provisions to the bark, the count whispered a few words to the Nubian. Ali approached the wounded man, and, taking him in his strong arms, he carried him to the bark and placed him on the floor of the same. The count then took the box and threw it near Benedetto; he then took Haydee's arm in his own and went back with her, while Ali plunged into the water up to his waist and laid hold of the bark.
"Benedetto," cried the count aloud, "you have blasphemed God. You have trodden under foot all human and divine laws. Men cannot punish you; may Godweigh guilt and punishment with each other! Ali, do your duty."
Ali, with a powerful movement, pushed the bark from the shore. The tide seized the light vessel, and in a short while it disappeared from the horizon.
"Oh, count," stammered Bertuccio, beside himself, "you have given him his life."
"If Almighty God wishes him to be saved, let it be so. He has the right to punish and forgive," replied the count, solemnly.
The yacht was now approaching the shore, in obedience to the command the sailor had brought, and, with Haydee and the seaman, the count got on board, and solemnly said:
"Bertuccio and Ali, do your duty!"
Haydee looked wonderingly at her husband; he took her head in his hands and earnestly said:
"My darling, I bury the past at this hour—the grottoes of Monte-Cristo are no more."
A column of fire rose from the island—a loud report was heard, and the treasure chamber of the Cardinal Spada was annihilated.
Ali and Bertuccio hurried to the yacht, and the Ice Bird flew with all sails toward the open sea.
"Oh, darling," whispered Haydee, blushing deeply, "you have been merciful, and I thank you doubly for it. What you do for your fellow-men God will return to your child. Yes, I speak the truth. God has given me the great happiness to become a mother. Kiss me, my beloved."