more and more fixed, seemed to
rest with ill-concealed satisfaction on the gloomy depression which was
rapidly spreading over the countenance of Caderousse.

"A rich Englishman," continued the abbe, "who had been his companion
in misfortune, but had been released from prison during the second
restoration, was possessed of a diamond of immense value; this jewel he
bestowed on Dantes upon himself quitting the prison, as a mark of his
gratitude for the kindness and brotherly care with which Dantes had
nursed him in a severe illness he underwent during his confinement.
Instead of employing this diamond in attempting to bribe his jailers,
who might only have taken it and then betrayed him to the governor,
Dantes carefully preserved it, that in the event of his getting out of
prison he might have wherewithal to live, for the sale of such a diamond
would have quite sufficed to make his fortune."

"Then, I suppose," asked Caderousse, with eager, glowing looks, "that it
was a stone of immense value?"

"Why, everything is relative," answered the abbe. "To one in Edmond's
position the diamond certainly was of great value. It was estimated at
fifty thousand francs."

"Bless me!" exclaimed Caderousse, "fifty thousand francs! Surely the
diamond was as large as a nut to be worth all that."

"No," replied the abbe, "it was not of such a size as that; but you
shall judge for yourself. I have it with me."

The sharp gaze of Caderousse was instantly directed towards the priest's
garments, as though hoping to discover the location of the treasure.
Calmly drawing forth from his pocket a small box covered with black
shagreen, the abbe opened it, and displayed to the dazzled eyes of
Caderousse the sparkling jewel it contained, set in a ring of admirable
workmanship. "And that diamond," cried Caderousse, almost breathless
with eager admiration, "you say, is worth fifty thousand francs?"

"It is, without the setting, which is also valuable," replied the abbe,
as he closed the box, and returned it to his pocket, while its brilliant
hues seemed still to dance before the eyes of the fascinated inn-keeper.

"But how comes the diamond in your possession, sir? Did Edmond make you
his heir?"

"No, merely his testamentary executor. 'I once possessed four dear and
faithful friends, besides the maiden to whom I was betrothed' he said;
'and I feel convinced they have all unfeignedly grieved over my loss.
The name of one of the four friends is Ca