d its crew. I
stepped into the shed, and it was fortunate I did so, for at that moment
Caderousse entered with a stranger.

"I waited patiently, not to overhear what they said, but because I could
do nothing else; besides, the same thing had occurred often before. The
man who was with Caderousse was evidently a stranger to the South of
France; he was one of those merchants who come to sell jewellery at
the Beaucaire fair, and who during the month the fair lasts, and during
which there is so great an influx of merchants and customers from all
parts of Europe, often have dealings to the amount of 100,000 to 150,000
francs. Caderousse entered hastily. Then, seeing that the room was,
as usual, empty, and only guarded by the dog, he called to his wife,
'Hello, Carconte,' said he, 'the worthy priest has not deceived us; the
diamond is real.' An exclamation of joy was heard, and the staircase
creaked beneath a feeble step. 'What do you say?' asked his wife, pale
as death.

"'I say that the diamond is real, and that this gentleman, one of the
first jewellers of Paris, will give us 50,000. francs for it. Only, in
order to satisfy himself that it really belongs to us, he wishes you to
relate to him, as I have done already, the miraculous manner in which
the diamond came into our possession. In the meantime please to sit
down, monsieur, and I will fetch you some refreshment.' The jeweller
examined attentively the interior of the inn and the apparent poverty
of the persons who were about to sell him a diamond that seemed to have
come from the casket of a prince. 'Relate your story, madame,' said he,
wishing, no doubt, to profit by the absence of the husband, so that the
latter could not influence the wife's story, to see if the two recitals
tallied.

"'Oh,' returned she, 'it was a gift of heaven. My husband was a great
friend, in 1814 or 1815, of a sailor named Edmond Dantes. This poor
fellow, whom Caderousse had forgotten, had not forgotten him, and at his
death he bequeathed this diamond to him.'--'But how did he obtain
it?' asked the jeweller; 'had he it before he was imprisoned?'--'No,
monsieur; but it appears that in prison he made the acquaintance of a
rich Englishman, and as in prison he fell sick, and Dantes took the same
care of him as if he had been his brother, the Englishman, when he was
set free, gave this stone to Dantes, who, less fortunate, died, and, in
his turn, left it to us, and charged the excellent abbe, wh