CXVI. Le pardon.

CXVI

Forgiveness.

The next day Danglars was hungry again; the air of that cavern was the keenest of appetizers. The prisoner thought that for that day he would have no expense to incur: being a thrifty man, he had hidden half his chicken and a piece of his bread in the corner of his cell.

But no sooner had he eaten than he was thirsty: he had not reckoned on that.

He struggled against his thirst until he felt his parched tongue clinging to the roof of his mouth.

Then, no longer able to resist the fire that consumed him, he called out.

The sentinel opened the door; it was a new face.

He thought it would be better for him to deal with an old acquaintance. He called for Peppino.

"Here I am, Excellency," said the bandit, presenting himself with an eagerness that seemed of good omen to Danglars. "What do you desire?"

"To drink," said the prisoner.

"Excellency," said Peppino, "you know that wine is excessively dear in the environs of Rome..."

"Then give me water," said Danglars, seeking to parry the thrust.

"Oh! Excellency, water is rarer than wine; the drought is so severe!"

"Come," said Danglars, "it appears we are going to begin again!"

And while smiling to seem as though he were jesting, the wretched man felt the sweat moisten his temples.

"See here, my friend," said Danglars, seeing that Peppino remained impassive, "I ask you for a glass of wine; will you refuse me?"

"I have already told you, Excellency," answered Peppino gravely, "that we do not sell by the glass."

"Well then, let us see, give me a bottle."

"Of which?"

"The cheapest."

"They are both of the same price."

"And what price?"

"Twenty-five thousand francs the bottle."

"Say it," cried Danglars with a bitterness that only a Harpagon could have detected in the register of the human voice, "say that you wish to strip me bare; it would be sooner done than to devour me thus limb by limb."

"It is possible," said Peppino, "that such is the master's design."

"The master, who is he?"

"He to whom you were brought the day before yesterday."

"And where is he?"

"Here."

"Have me brought to him."

"That is easily done."

The instant after, Luigi Vampa stood before Danglars.

"You called me?" he asked the prisoner.

"Is it you, sir, who are the chief of those who brought me here?"

"Yes, Excellency."

"What do you require of me for ransom? Speak."

"Why, simply the five millions that you carry about you."

Danglars felt a frightful spasm crush his heart.

"That is all I have in the world, sir, and it is the remnant of an immense fortune: if you take it from me, take my life."

"We are forbidden to shed your blood, Excellency."

"And by whom are you forbidden?"

"By him to whom we obey."

"Then you obey someone?"

"Yes, a chief."

"I thought you yourself were the chief?"

"I am the chief of these men; but another man is my chief."

"And does this chief obey anyone?"

"Yes."

"Whom?"

"God."

Danglars remained for a moment thoughtful.

"I do not understand you," said he.

"That is possible."

"And is it this chief who told you to treat me thus?"

"Yes."

"What is his aim?"

"I know nothing of it."

"But my purse will be exhausted."

"That is probable."

"See here," said Danglars, "will you take a million?"

"No."

"Two millions?"

"No."

"Three millions?... four?... See here, four? I give them to you on condition that you let me go."

"Why do you offer us four millions out of what is worth five?" said Vampa. "That is usury, banker lord, or I know nothing of the matter."

"Take all! take all, I tell you!" cried Danglars. "And kill me!"

"Come, come, calm yourself, Excellency; you will lash your blood into a fever, which will give you an appetite to eat a million a day; be more economical, zounds!"

"But when I have no more money to pay you!" cried Danglars, exasperated.

"Then you will be hungry."

"I shall be hungry?" said Danglars, turning pale.

"That is probable," answered Vampa phlegmatically.

"But you said you did not wish to kill me?"

"No."

"And you would let me die of hunger?"

"It is not the same thing."

"Well, wretches!" cried Danglars, "I shall baffle your infamous calculations; die for die, I had as soon finish at once; torture me, put me to the rack, kill me, but you shall have my signature no more!"

"As you please, Excellency," said Vampa.

And he left the cell.

Danglars threw himself down roaring upon his goatskins.

What were these men? what was this invisible chief? what designs were they pursuing upon him? and when everyone else could ransom himself, why was he alone unable to do so?

Oh! certainly, death, a swift and violent death, was a good means of cheating his relentless enemies, who seemed to pursue upon him an incomprehensible vengeance.

Yes, but to die!

Perhaps for the first time in his long career, Danglars thought of death with the desire and the fear of dying at once; but the moment had come for him to fix his eyes upon the implacable spectre that lives within every creature, who, at every pulsation of the heart, says to himself: Thou shalt die!

Danglars resembled those wild beasts whom the chase animates, then drives to despair, and who, by dint of despair, sometimes succeed in escaping.

Danglars thought of an escape.

But the walls were the rock itself; but at the single outlet leading from the cell a man sat reading, and behind that man could be seen passing and repassing shadows armed with muskets.

His resolution not to sign lasted two days, after which he asked for food and offered a million.

A magnificent supper was served him, and his million taken.

Thenceforth, the life of the unhappy prisoner was a perpetual wandering of the mind. He had suffered so much that he no longer wished to expose himself to suffering, and submitted to every exaction; at the end of twelve days, one afternoon when he had dined as in his prosperous days, he reckoned up his accounts and found that he had given so many drafts to bearer that there remained to him no more than fifty thousand francs.

Then there came about within him a strange reaction: he who had just abandoned five millions tried to save the fifty thousand francs that remained to him; rather than give those fifty thousand francs, he resolved to resume a life of privation; he had gleams of hope bordering on madness; he who for so long had forgotten God, thought of Him, to tell himself that God sometimes wrought miracles: that the cavern might sink into the earth; that the pontifical carabineers might discover that accursed retreat and come to his rescue; that then there would remain to him fifty thousand francs; that fifty thousand francs were a sufficient sum to keep a man from dying of hunger; he prayed God to preserve him those fifty thousand francs, and in praying he wept.

Three days passed thus, during which the name of God was constantly, if not in his heart at least upon his lips; at intervals he had fits of delirium during which he believed that, through the windows, he saw in a poor chamber an old man dying upon a pallet.

That old man, too, was dying of hunger.

On the fourth day, it was no longer a man, it was a living corpse; he had gathered up from the ground even the last crumbs of his former meals and begun to devour the mat with which the floor was covered.

Then he besought Peppino, as one beseeches his guardian angel, to give him some nourishment; he offered him a thousand francs for a mouthful of bread.

Peppino made no answer.

On the fifth day, he dragged himself to the entrance of the cell.

"Are you not then a Christian?" said he, raising himself upon his knees; "you would assassinate a man who is your brother before God?"

"Oh! my old friends, my old friends!" he murmured.

And he fell with his face to the earth.

Then, rising again with a sort of despair:

"The chief!" he cried; "the chief!"

"Here I am!" said Vampa, appearing suddenly. "What do you desire now?"

"Take my last gold," stammered Danglars, holding out his portfolio; "and let me live here, in this cavern; I ask no more for liberty, I ask only to live."

"Do you suffer then so much?" asked Vampa.

"Oh! yes, I suffer, and cruelly!"

"There are, however, men who have suffered still more than you."

"I do not believe it."

"Indeed there are! those who have died of hunger."

Danglars thought of that old man whom, in his hours of hallucination, he saw, through the windows of his poor chamber, moaning upon his bed.

He struck his forehead against the earth, uttering a groan.

"Yes, it is true, there are those who have suffered even more than I, but at least, those, they were martyrs."

"Do you repent, at least?" said a gloomy and solemn voice, which made the hair of Danglars stand on end.

His weakened gaze strove to distinguish objects, and he saw behind the bandit a man wrapped in a cloak and lost in the shadow of a stone pilaster.

"Of what must I repent?" stammered Danglars.

"Of the evil you have done," said the same voice.

"Oh! yes, I repent! I repent!" cried Danglars.

And he struck his breast with his emaciated fist.

"Then I forgive you," said the man, throwing off his cloak and stepping forward into the light.

"The Count of Monte Cristo!" said Danglars, paler with terror than he had been, a moment before, with hunger and misery.

"You are mistaken; I am not the Count of Monte Cristo."

"And who are you, then?"

"I am the man whom you sold, delivered up, dishonored: I am the man whose betrothed you prostituted; I am the man over whom you walked to raise yourself to fortune; I am the man whose father you caused to die of hunger, who condemned you to die of hunger, and who nevertheless forgives you, because he himself has need to be forgiven: I am Edmond Dantès!"

Danglars uttered but one cry, and fell prostrate.

"Rise," said the count; "your life is spared; a like fortune has not befallen your two other accomplices: the one is mad, the other is dead! Keep the fifty thousand francs that remain to you, I make you a gift of them; as for your five millions stolen from the hospitals, they have already been restored to them by an unknown hand.

"And now, eat and drink; this evening I receive you as my guest.

"Vampa, when this man is satisfied, he is free."

Danglars remained prostrate while the count withdrew; when he raised his head, he saw only a sort of shadow disappearing in the corridor, and before which the bandits bowed.

As the count had ordered, Danglars was served by Vampa, who had the best wine and the finest fruits of Italy brought to him, and who, having had him mounted in his post-chaise, left him upon the road, leaning against a tree.

He remained there until daylight, knowing not where he was.

At daylight he perceived that he was near a brook: he was thirsty; he dragged himself to it.

In stooping to drink, he perceived that his hair had turned white.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”