Day, for which Dantes had so eagerly and impatiently waited with open
eyes, again dawned. With the first light Dantes resumed his search.
Again he climbed the rocky height he had ascended the previous evening,
and strained his view to catch every peculiarity of the landscape;
but it wore the same wild, barren aspect when seen by the rays of the
morning sun which it had done when surveyed by the fading glimmer of
eve. Descending into the grotto, he lifted the stone, filled his pockets
with gems, put the box together as well and securely as he could,
sprinkled fresh sand over the spot from which it had been taken, and
then carefully trod down the earth to give it everywhere a uniform
appearance; then, quitting the grotto, he replaced the stone, heaping
on it broken masses of rocks and rough fragments of crumbling granite,
filling the interstices with earth, into which he deftly inserted
rapidly growing plants, such as the wild myrtle and flowering thorn,
then carefully watering these new plantations, he scrupulously effaced
every trace of footsteps, leaving the approach to the cavern as
savage-looking and untrodden as he had found it. This done, he
impatiently awaited the return of his companions. To wait at Monte
Cristo for the purpose of watching like a dragon over the almost
incalculable riches that had thus fallen into his possession satisfied
not the cravings of his heart, which yearned to return to dwell among
mankind, and to assume the rank, power, and influence which are always
accorded to wealth--that first and greatest of all the forces within the
grasp of man.
On the sixth day, the smugglers returned. From a distance Dantes
recognized the rig and handling of The Young Amelia, and dragging
himself with affected difficulty towards the landing-place, he met his
companions with an assurance that, although considerably better than
when they quitted him, he still suffered acutely from his late accident.
He then inquired how they had fared in their trip. To this question the
smugglers replied that, although successful in landing their cargo in
safety, they had scarcely done so when they received intelligence that a
guard-ship had just quitted the port of Toulon and was crowding all
sail towards them. This obliged them to make all the speed they could to
evade the enemy, when they could but lament the absence of Dantes, whose
superior skill in the management of a vessel would have availed them so
materially. In fact, the pursuing vessel had almost overtaken them
when, fortunately, night came on, and enabled them to double the Cape of
Corsica, and so elude all further pursuit. Upon the whole, however, the
trip had been sufficiently successful to satisfy all concerned; while
the crew, and particularly Jacopo, expressed great regrets that Dantes
had not been an equal sharer with themselves in the profits, which
amounted to no less a sum than fifty piastres each.
Edmond preserved the most admirable self-command, not suffering the
faintest indication of a smile to escape him at the enumeration of all
the benefits he would have reaped had he been able to quit the island;
but as The Young Amelia had merely come to Monte Cristo to fetch him
away, he embarked that same evening, and proceeded with the captain to
Leghorn. Arrived at Leghorn, he repaired to the house of a Jew, a dealer
in precious stones, to whom he disposed of four of his smallest diamonds
for five thousand francs each. Dantes half feared that such valuable
jewels in the hands of a poor sailor like himself might excite
suspicion; but the cunning purchaser asked no troublesome questions
concerning a bargain by which he gained a round profit of at least
eighty per cent.
The following day Dantes presented Jacopo with an entirely new vessel,
accompanying the gift by a donation of one hundred piastres, that he
might provide himself with a suitable crew and other requisites for his
outfit, upon condition that he would go at once to Marseilles for the
purpose of inquiring after an old man named Louis Dantes, residing
in the Allees de Meillan, and also a young woman called Mercedes, an
inhabitant of the Catalan village. Jacopo could scarcely believe his
senses at receiving this magnificent present, which Dantes hastened to
account for by saying that he had merely been a sailor from whim and a
desire to spite his family, who did not allow him as much money as he
liked to spend; but that on his arrival at Leghorn he had come into
possession of a large fortune, left him by an uncle, whose sole heir
he was. The superior education of Dantes gave an air of such extreme
probability to this statement that it never once occurred to Jacopo to
doubt its accuracy. The term for which Edmond had engaged to serve on
board The Young Amelia having expired, Dantes took leave of the captain,
who at first tried all his powers of persuasion to induce him to remain
as one of the crew, but having been told the history of the legacy, he
ceased to importune him further. The following morning Jacopo set sail
for Marseilles, with directions from Dantes to join him at the Island of
Monte Cristo.
Having seen Jacopo fairly out of the harbor, Dantes proceeded to make
his final adieus on board The Young Amelia, distributing so liberal a
gratuity among her crew as to secure for him the good wishes of all,
and expressions of cordial interest in all that concerned him. To the
captain he promised to write when he had made up his mind as to his
future plans. Then Dantes departed for Genoa. At the moment of his
arrival a small yacht was under trial in the bay; this yacht had been
built by order of an Englishman, who, having heard that the Genoese
excelled all other builders along the shores of the Mediterranean in
the construction of fast-sailing vessels, was desirous of possessing a
specimen of their skill; the price agreed upon between the Englishman
and the Genoese builder was forty thousand francs. Dantes, struck with
the beauty and capability of the little vessel, applied to its owner to
transfer it to him, offering sixty thousand francs, upon condition that
he should be allowed to take immediate possession. The proposal was too
advantageous to be refused, the more so as the person for whom the
yacht was intended had gone upon a tour through Switzerland, and was
not expected back in less than three weeks or a month, by which time
the builder reckoned upon being able to complete another. A bargain was
therefore struck. Dantes led the owner of the yacht to the dwelling of
a Jew; retired with the latter for a few minutes to a small back parlor,
and upon their return the Jew counted out to the shipbuilder the sum of
sixty thousand francs in bright gold pieces.
The delighted builder then offered his services in providing a suitable
crew for the little vessel, but this Dantes declined with many thanks,
saying he was accustomed to cruise about quite alone, and his principal
pleasure consisted in managing his yacht himself; the only thing the
builder could oblige him in would be to contrive a sort of secret closet
in the cabin at his bed's head, the closet to contain three divisions,
so constructed as to be concealed from all but himself. The builder
cheerfully undertook the commission, and promised to have these secret
places completed by the next day, Dantes furnishing the dimensions and
plan in accordance with which they were to be constructed.
The following day Dantes sailed with his yacht from Genoa, under the
inspection of an immense crowd drawn together by curiosity to see the
rich Spanish nobleman who preferred managing his own yacht. But their
wonder was soon changed to admiration at seeing the perfect skill with
which Dantes handled the helm. The boat, indeed, seemed to be animated
with almost human intelligence, so promptly did it obey the slightest
touch; and Dantes required but a short trial of his beautiful craft to
acknowledge that the Genoese had not without reason attained their
high reputation in the art of shipbuilding. The spectators followed the
little vessel with their eyes as long as it remained visible; they then
turned their conjectures upon her probable destination. Some insisted
she was making for Corsica, others the Island of Elba; bets were offered
to any amount that she was bound for Spain; while Africa was positively
reported by many persons as her intended course; but no one thought of
Monte Cristo. Yet thither it was that Dantes guided his vessel, and at
Monte Cristo he arrived at the close of the second day; his boat had
proved herself a first-class sailer, and had come the distance from
Genoa in thirty-five hours. Dantes had carefully noted the general
appearance of the shore, and, instead of landing at the usual place, he
dropped anchor in the little creek. The island was utterly deserted, and
bore no evidence of having been visited since he went away; his treasure
was just as he had left it. Early on the following morning he commenced
the removal of his riches, and ere nightfall the whole of his immense
wealth was safely deposited in the compartments of the secret locker.
A week passed by. Dantes employed it in manoeuvring his yacht round the
island, studying it as a skilful horseman would the animal he destined
for some important service, till at the end of that time he was
perfectly conversant with its good and bad qualities. The former Dantes
proposed to augment, the latter to remedy.
Upon the eighth day he discerned a small vessel under full sail
approaching Monte Cristo. As it drew near, he recognized it as the boat
he had given to Jacopo. He immediately signalled it. His signal was
returned, and in two hours afterwards the new-comer lay at anchor beside
the yacht. A mournful answer awaited each of Edmond's eager inquiries
as to the information Jacopo had obtained. Old Dantes was dead, and
Mercedes had disappeared. Dantes listened to these melancholy tidings
with outward calmness; but, leaping lightly ashore, he signified his
desire to be quite alone. In a couple of hours he returned. Two of the
men from Jacopo's boat came on board the yacht to assist in navigating
it, and he gave orders that she should be steered direct to Marseilles.
For his father's death he was in some manner prepared; but he knew not
how to account for the mysterious disappearance of Mercedes.
Without divulging his secret, Dantes could not give sufficiently clear
instructions to an agent. There were, besides, other particulars he
was desirous of ascertaining, and those were of a nature he alone could
investigate in a manner satisfactory to himself. His looking-glass
had assured him, during his stay at Leghorn, that he ran no risk of
recognition; moreover, he had now the means of adopting any disguise
he thought proper. One fine morning, then, his yacht, followed by the
little fishing-boat, boldly entered the port of Marseilles, and anchored
exactly opposite the spot from whence, on the never-to-be-forgotten
night of his departure for the Chateau d'If, he had been put on board
the boat destined to convey him thither. Still Dantes could not view
without a shudder the approach of a gendarme who accompanied the
officers deputed to demand his bill of health ere the yacht was
permitted to hold communication with the shore; but with that perfect
self-possession he had acquired during his acquaintance with Faria,
Dantes coolly presented an English passport he had obtained from
Leghorn, and as this gave him a standing which a French passport would
not have afforded, he was informed that there existed no obstacle to his
immediate debarkation.
The first person to attract the attention of Dantes, as he landed on the
Canebiere, was one of the crew belonging to the Pharaon. Edmond welcomed
the meeting with this fellow--who had been one of his own sailors--as a
sure means of testing the extent of the change which time had worked in
his own appearance. Going straight towards him, he propounded a variety
of questions on different subjects, carefully watching the man's
countenance as he did so; but not a word or look implied that he had the
slightest idea of ever having seen before the person with whom he was
then conversing. Giving the sailor a piece of money in return for his
civility, Dantes proceeded onwards; but ere he had gone many steps he
heard the man loudly calling him to stop. Dantes instantly turned to
meet him. "I beg your pardon, sir," said the honest fellow, in almost
breathless haste, "but I believe you made a mistake; you intended to
give me a two-franc piece, and see, you gave me a double Napoleon."
"Thank you, my good friend. I see that I have made a trifling mistake,
as you say; but by way of rewarding your honesty I give you another
double Napoleon, that you may drink to my health, and be able to ask
your messmates to join you."
So extreme was the surprise of the sailor, that he was unable even
to thank Edmond, whose receding figure he continued to gaze after in
speechless astonishment. "Some nabob from India," was his comment.
Dantes, meanwhile, went on his way. Each step he trod oppressed his
heart with fresh emotion; his first and most indelible recollections
were there; not a tree, not a street, that he passed but seemed filled
with dear and cherished memories. And thus he proceeded onwards till he
arrived at the end of the Rue de Noailles, from whence a full view of
the Allees de Meillan was obtained. At this spot, so pregnant with fond
and filial remembrances, his heart beat almost to bursting, his knees
tottered under him, a mist floated over his sight, and had he not clung
for support to one of the trees, he would inevitably have fallen to the
ground and been crushed beneath the many vehicles continually passing
there. Recovering himself, however, he wiped the perspiration from his
brows, and stopped not again till he found himself at the door of the
house in which his father had lived.
The nasturtiums and other plants, which his father had delighted to
train before his window, had all disappeared from the upper part of the
house. Leaning against the tree, he gazed thoughtfully for a time at the
upper stories of the shabby little house. Then he advanced to the door,
and asked whether there were any rooms to be let. Though answered in the
negative, he begged so earnestly to be permitted to visit those on
the fifth floor, that, in despite of the oft-repeated assurance of the
concierge that they were occupied, Dantes succeeded in inducing the
man to go up to the tenants, and ask permission for a gentleman to be
allowed to look at them.
The tenants of the humble lodging were a young couple who had been
scarcely married a week; and seeing them, Dantes sighed heavily. Nothing
in the two small chambers forming the apartments remained as it had been
in the time of the elder Dantes; the very paper was different, while the
articles of antiquated furniture with which the rooms had been filled in
Edmond's time had all disappeared; the four walls alone remained as he
had left them. The bed belonging to the present occupants was placed as
the former owner of the chamber had been accustomed to have his; and, in
spite of his efforts to prevent it, the eyes of Edmond were suffused
in tears as he reflected that on that spot the old man had breathed
his last, vainly calling for his son. The young couple gazed with
astonishment at the sight of their visitor's emotion, and wondered to
see the large tears silently chasing each other down his otherwise stern
and immovable features; but they felt the sacredness of his grief,
and kindly refrained from questioning him as to its cause, while, with
instinctive delicacy, they left him to indulge his sorrow alone. When
he withdrew from the scene of his painful recollections, they both
accompanied him downstairs, reiterating their hope that he would come
again whenever he pleased, and assuring him that their poor dwelling
would ever be open to him. As Edmond passed the door on the fourth
floor, he paused to inquire whether Caderousse the tailor still dwelt
there; but he received, for reply, that the person in question had got
into difficulties, and at the present time kept a small inn on the route
from Bellegarde to Beaucaire.
Having obtained the address of the person to whom the house in the
Allees de Meillan belonged, Dantes next proceeded thither, and, under
the name of Lord Wilmore (the name and title inscribed on his passport),
purchased the small dwelling for the sum of twenty-five thousand francs,
at least ten thousand more than it was worth; but had its owner asked
half a million, it would unhesitatingly have been given. The very same
day the occupants of the apartments on the fifth floor of the house, now
become the property of Dantes, were duly informed by the notary who had
arranged the necessary transfer of deeds, etc., that the new landlord
gave them their choice of any of the rooms in the house, without the
least augmentation of rent, upon condition of their giving instant
possession of the two small chambers they at present inhabited.
This strange event aroused great wonder and curiosity in the
neighborhood of the Allees de Meillan, and a multitude of theories
were afloat, none of which was anywhere near the truth. But what raised
public astonishment to a climax, and set all conjecture at defiance, was
the knowledge that the same stranger who had in the morning visited the
Allees de Meillan had been seen in the evening walking in the little
village of the Catalans, and afterwards observed to enter a poor
fisherman's hut, and to pass more than an hour in inquiring after
persons who had either been dead or gone away for more than fifteen or
sixteen years. But on the following day the family from whom all these
particulars had been asked received a handsome present, consisting of an
entirely new fishing-boat, with two seines and a tender. The delighted
recipients of these munificent gifts would gladly have poured out
their thanks to their generous benefactor, but they had seen him,
upon quitting the hut, merely give some orders to a sailor, and then
springing lightly on horseback, leave Marseilles by the Porte d'Aix.
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