ly between his knees, his long, skinny neck resting on his lap,
while his dim eye was fixed earnestly on the traveller's face.

"Are you quite alone?" inquired the guest, as Caderousse placed before
him the bottle of wine and a glass.

"Quite, quite alone," replied the man--"or, at least, practically so,
for my poor wife, who is the only person in the house besides myself, is
laid up with illness, and unable to render me the least assistance, poor
thing!"

"You are married, then?" said the priest, with a show of interest,
glancing round as he spoke at the scanty furnishings of the apartment.

"Ah, sir," said Caderousse with a sigh, "it is easy to perceive I am not
a rich man; but in this world a man does not thrive the better for being
honest." The abbe fixed on him a searching, penetrating glance.

"Yes, honest--I can certainly say that much for myself," continued the
inn-keeper, fairly sustaining the scrutiny of the abbe's gaze; "I
can boast with truth of being an honest man; and," continued he
significantly, with a hand on his breast and shaking his head, "that is
more than every one can say nowadays."

"So much the better for you, if what you assert be true," said the
abbe; "for I am firmly persuaded that, sooner or later, the good will be
rewarded, and the wicked punished."

"Such words as those belong to your profession," answered Caderousse,
"and you do well to repeat them; but," added he, with a bitter
expression of countenance, "one is free to believe them or not, as one
pleases."

"You are wrong to speak thus," said the abbe; "and perhaps I may, in my
own person, be able to prove to you how completely you are in error."

"What mean you?" inquired Caderousse with a look of surprise.

"In the first place, I must be satisfied that you are the person I am in
search of."

"What proofs do you require?"

"Did you, in the year 1814 or 1815, know anything of a young sailor
named Dantes?"

"Dantes? Did I know poor dear Edmond? Why, Edmond Dantes and myself
were intimate friends!" exclaimed Caderousse, whose countenance flushed
darkly as he caught the penetrating gaze of the abbe fixed on him, while
the clear, calm eye of the questioner seemed to dilate with feverish
scrutiny.

"You remind me," said the priest, "that the young man concerning whom I
asked you was said to bear the name of Edmond."

"Said to bear the name!" repeated Caderousse, becoming excited and
eager. "Why, he was so called as truly a