aving the two
speakers to resume the conversation, but remaining so as to be able to
hear every word they uttered. Again the abbe had been obliged to swallow
a draught of water to calm the emotions that threatened to overpower
him. When he had sufficiently recovered himself, he said, "It appears,
then, that the miserable old man you were telling me of was forsaken
by every one. Surely, had not such been the case, he would not have
perished by so dreadful a death."

"Why, he was not altogether forsaken," continued Caderousse, "for
Mercedes the Catalan and Monsieur Morrel were very kind to him;
but somehow the poor old man had contracted a profound hatred for
Fernand--the very person," added Caderousse with a bitter smile,
"that you named just now as being one of Dantes' faithful and attached
friends."

"And was he not so?" asked the abbe.

"Gaspard, Gaspard!" murmured the woman, from her seat on the stairs,
"mind what you are saying!" Caderousse made no reply to these words,
though evidently irritated and annoyed by the interruption, but,
addressing the abbe, said, "Can a man be faithful to another whose wife
he covets and desires for himself? But Dantes was so honorable and
true in his own nature, that he believed everybody's professions of
friendship. Poor Edmond, he was cruelly deceived; but it was fortunate
that he never knew, or he might have found it more difficult, when on
his deathbed, to pardon his enemies. And, whatever people may say,"
continued Caderousse, in his native language, which was not altogether
devoid of rude poetry, "I cannot help being more frightened at the idea
of the malediction of the dead than the hatred of the living."

"Imbecile!" exclaimed La Carconte.

"Do you, then, know in what manner Fernand injured Dantes?" inquired the
abbe of Caderousse.

"Do I? No one better."

"Speak out then, say what it was!"

"Gaspard!" cried La Carconte, "do as you will; you are master--but if
you take my advice you'll hold your tongue."

"Well, wife," replied Caderousse, "I don't know but what you're right!"

"So you will say nothing?" asked the abbe.

"Why, what good would it do?" asked Caderousse. "If the poor lad were
living, and came to me and begged that I would candidly tell which
were his true and which his false friends, why, perhaps, I should not
hesitate. But you tell me he is no more, and therefore can have nothing
to do with hatred or revenge, so let all such feeling be buried with