ve
honorably acquired; and already you contemplated crime under the excuse
of want, when God worked a miracle in your behalf, sending you, by my
hands, a fortune--brilliant, indeed, for you, who had never possessed
any. But this unexpected, unhoped-for, unheard-of fortune sufficed
you no longer when you once possessed it; you wished to double it, and
how?--by a murder! You succeeded, and then God snatched it from you, and
brought you to justice."

"It was not I who wished to kill the Jew," said Caderousse; "it was La
Carconte."

"Yes," said Monte Cristo, "and God,--I cannot say in justice, for his
justice would have slain you,--but God, in his mercy, spared your life."

"Pardieu, to transport me for life, how merciful!"

"You thought it a mercy then, miserable wretch! The coward who feared
death rejoiced at perpetual disgrace; for like all galley-slaves, you
said, 'I may escape from prison, I cannot from the grave.' And you said
truly; the way was opened for you unexpectedly. An Englishman visited
Toulon, who had vowed to rescue two men from infamy, and his choice
fell on you and your companion. You received a second fortune, money and
tranquillity were restored to you, and you, who had been condemned to a
felon's life, might live as other men. Then, wretched creature, then you
tempted God a third time. 'I have not enough,' you said, when you had
more than you before possessed, and you committed a third crime, without
reason, without excuse. God is wearied; he has punished you." Caderousse
was fast sinking. "Give me drink," said he: "I thirst--I burn!" Monte
Cristo gave him a glass of water. "And yet that villain, Benedetto, will
escape!"

"No one, I tell you, will escape; Benedetto will be punished."

"Then, you, too, will be punished, for you did not do your duty as a
priest--you should have prevented Benedetto from killing me."

"I?" said the count, with a smile which petrified the dying man, "when
you had just broken your knife against the coat of mail which protected
my breast! Yet perhaps if I had found you humble and penitent, I might
have prevented Benedetto from killing you; but I found you proud and
blood-thirsty, and I left you in the hands of God."

"I do not believe there is a God," howled Caderousse; "you do not
believe it; you lie--you lie!"

"Silence," said the abbe; "you will force the last drop of blood from
your veins. What! you do not believe in God when he is striking you
dead? you will n