erousse,
who had not yet revived.

When the wretched man again opened his eyes, the count looked at him
with a mournful expression of pity, and his lips moved as if in prayer.
"A surgeon, reverend sir--a surgeon!" said Caderousse.

"I have sent for one," replied the abbe.

"I know he cannot save my life, but he may strengthen me to give my
evidence."

"Against whom?"

"Against my murderer."

"Did you recognize him?"

"Yes; it was Benedetto."

"The young Corsican?"

"Himself."

"Your comrade?"

"Yes. After giving me the plan of this house, doubtless hoping I should
kill the count and he thus become his heir, or that the count would kill
me and I should be out of his way, he waylaid me, and has murdered me."

"I have also sent for the procureur."

"He will not come in time; I feel my life fast ebbing."

"Wait a moment," said Monte Cristo. He left the room, and returned
in five minutes with a phial. The dying man's eyes were all the time
riveted on the door, through which he hoped succor would arrive.
"Hasten, reverend sir, hasten! I shall faint again!" Monte Cristo
approached, and dropped on his purple lips three or four drops of the
contents of the phial. Caderousse drew a deep breath. "Oh," said he,
"that is life to me; more, more!"

"Two drops more would kill you," replied the abbe.

"Oh, send for some one to whom I can denounce the wretch!"

"Shall I write your deposition? You can sign it."

"Yes, yes," said Caderousse; and his eyes glistened at the thought of
this posthumous revenge. Monte Cristo wrote:--

"I die, murdered by the Corsican Benedetto, my comrade in the galleys at
Toulouse, No. 59."

"Quick, quick!" said Caderousse, "or I shall be unable to sign it."

Monte Cristo gave the pen to Caderousse, who collected all his strength,
signed it, and fell back on his bed, saying: "You will relate all the
rest, reverend sir; you will say he calls himself Andrea Cavalcanti. He
lodges at the Hotel des Princes. Oh, I am dying!" He again fainted. The
abbe made him smell the contents of the phial, and he again opened his
eyes. His desire for revenge had not forsaken him.

"Ah, you will tell all I have said, will you not, reverend sir?"

"Yes, and much more."

"What more will you say?"

"I will say he had doubtless given you the plan of this house, in the
hope the count would kill you. I will say, likewise, he had apprised the
count, by a note, of your intention, and, the count being absen