that score; the family is extinct. The last Count
of Spada, moreover, made me his heir, bequeathing to me this symbolic
breviary, he bequeathed to me all it contained; no, no, make your mind
satisfied on that point. If we lay hands on this fortune, we may enjoy
it without remorse."

"And you say this treasure amounts to"--

"Two millions of Roman crowns; nearly thirteen millions of our
money." [*]

* $2,600,000 in 1894.

"Impossible!" said Dantes, staggered at the enormous amount.

"Impossible? and why?" asked the old man. "The Spada family was one of
the oldest and most powerful families of the fifteenth century; and in
those times, when other opportunities for investment were wanting, such
accumulations of gold and jewels were by no means rare; there are at
this day Roman families perishing of hunger, though possessed of nearly
a million in diamonds and jewels, handed down by entail, and which they
cannot touch." Edmond thought he was in a dream--he wavered between
incredulity and joy.

"I have only kept this secret so long from you," continued Faria, "that
I might test your character, and then surprise you. Had we escaped
before my attack of catalepsy, I should have conducted you to Monte
Cristo; now," he added, with a sigh, "it is you who will conduct me
thither. Well, Dantes, you do not thank me?"

"This treasure belongs to you, my dear friend," replied Dantes, "and to
you only. I have no right to it. I am no relation of yours."

"You are my son, Dantes," exclaimed the old man. "You are the child of
my captivity. My profession condemns me to celibacy. God has sent you
to me to console, at one and the same time, the man who could not be a
father, and the prisoner who could not get free." And Faria extended the
arm of which alone the use remained to him to the young man who threw
himself upon his neck and wept.

Chapter 19. The Third Attack.

Now that this treasure, which had so long been the object of the abbe's
meditations, could insure the future happiness of him whom Faria really
loved as a son, it had doubled its value in his eyes, and every day he
expatiated on the amount, explaining to Dantes all the good which, with
thirteen or fourteen millions of francs, a man could do in these days to
his friends; and then Dantes' countenance became gloomy, for the oath of
vengeance he had taken recurred to his memory, and he reflected how much
ill, in these times, a man with thirteen or fourteen milli