LITMIR.BIZ

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“this, then, I suppose, is a part of the trick you were concerting yesterday? All I can say is, that if it be so, ‘tis an ill turn, and well deserves to bring double evil on those who have projected it.”

      “Nonsense,” returned Danglars, “I tell you again I have nothing whatever to do with it; besides, you know very well that I tore the paper to pieces.”

      “No, you did not!” answered Caderousse, “you merely threw it by — I saw it lying in a corner.”

      “Hold your tongue, you fool! — what should you know about it? — why, you were drunk!”

      “Where is Fernand?” inquired Caderousse.

      “How do I know?” replied Danglars; “gone, as every prudent man ought to be, to look after his own affairs, most likely. Never mind where he is, let you and I go and see what is to be done for our poor friends.”

      During this conversation, Dantes, after having exchanged a cheerful shake of the hand with all his sympathizing friends, had surrendered himself to the officer sent to arrest him, merely saying, “Make yourselves quite easy, my good fellows, there is some little mistake to clear up, that’s all, depend upon it; and very likely I may not have to go so far as the prison to effect that.”

      “Oh, to be sure!” responded Danglars, who had now approached the group, “nothing more than a mistake, I feel quite certain.”

      Dantes descended the staircase, preceded by the magistrate, and followed by the soldiers. A carriage awaited him at the door; he got in, followed by two soldiers and the magistrate, and the vehicle drove off towards Marseilles.

      “Adieu, adieu, dearest Edmond!” cried Mercedes, stretching out her arms to him from the balcony.

      The prisoner heard the cry, which sounded like the sob of a broken heart, and leaning from the coach he called out, “Good-by, Mercedes — we shall soon meet again!” Then the vehicle disappeared round one of the turnings of Fort Saint Nicholas.

      “Wait for me here, all of you!” cried M. Morrel; “I will take the first conveyance I find, and hurry to Marseilles, whence I will bring you word how all is going on.”

      “That’s right!” exclaimed a multitude of voices, “go, and return as quickly as you can!”

      This second departure was followed by a long and fearful state of terrified silence on the part of those who were left behind. The old father and Mercedes remained for some time apart, each absorbed in grief; but at length the two poor victims of the same blow raised their eyes, and with a simultaneous burst of feeling rushed into each other’s arms.

      Meanwhile Fernand made his appearance, poured out for himself a glass of water with a trembling hand; then hastily swallowing it, went to sit down at the first vacant place, and this was, by mere chance, placed next to the seat on which poor Mercedes had fallen half fainting, when released from the warm and affectionate embrace of old Dantes. Instinctively Fernand drew back his chair.

      “He is the cause of all this misery — I am quite sure of it,” whispered Caderousse, who had never taken his eyes off Fernand, to Danglars.

      “I don’t think so,” answered the other; he’s too stupid to imagine such a scheme. I only hope the mischief will fall upon the head of whoever wrought it.”

      “You don’t mention those who aided and abetted the deed,” said Caderousse.

      “Surely,” answered Danglars, “one cannot be held responsible for every chance arrow shot into the air.”

      “You can, indeed, when the arrow lights point downward on somebody’s head.”

      Meantime the subject of the arrest was being canvassed in every different form.

      “What think you, Danglars,” said one of the party, turning towards him, “of this event?”

      “Why,” replied he, “I think it just possible Dantes may have been detected with some trifling article on board ship considered here as contraband.”

      “But how could he have done so without your knowledge, Danglars, since you are the ship’s supercargo?”

      “Why, as for that, I could only know what I was told respecting the merchandise with which the vessel was laden. I know she was loaded with cotton, and that she took in her freight at Alexandria from Pastret’s warehouse, and at Smyrna from Pascal’s; that is all I was obliged to know, and I beg I may not be asked for any further particulars.”

      “Now I recollect,” said the afflicted old father; “my poor boy told me yesterday he had got a small case of coffee, and another of tobacco for me!”

      “There, you see,” exclaimed Danglars. “Now the mischief is out; depend upon it the custom-house people went rummaging about the ship in our absence, and discovered poor Dantes’ hidden treasures.”

      Mercedes, however, paid no heed to this explanation of her lover’s arrest. Her grief, which she had hitherto tried to restrain, now burst out in a violent fit of hysterical sobbing.

      “Come, come,” said the old man, “be comforted, my poor child; there is still hope!”

      “Hope!” repeated Danglars.

      “Hope!” faintly murmured Fernand, but the word seemed to die away on his pale agitated lips, and a convulsive spasm passed over his countenance.

      “Good news! good news!” shouted forth one of the party stationed in the balcony on the lookout. “Here comes M. Morrel back. No doubt, now, we shall hear that our friend is released!”

      Mercedes and the old man rushed to meet the shipowner and greeted him at the door. He was very pale.

      “What news?” exclaimed a general burst of voices.

      “Alas, my friends,” replied M. Morrel, with a mournful shake of his head, “the thing has assumed a more serious aspect than I expected.”

      “Oh, indeed — indeed, sir, he is innocent!” sobbed forth Mercedes.

      “That I believe!” answered M. Morrel; “but still he is charged” —

      “With what?” inquired the elder Dantes.

      “With being an agent of the Bonapartist faction!” Many of our readers may be able to recollect how formidable such an accusation became in the period at which our story is dated.

      A despairing cry escaped the pale lips of Mercedes; the old man sank into a chair.

      “Ah, Danglars!” whispered Caderousse, “you have deceived me — the trick you spoke of last night has been played; but I cannot suffer a poor old man or an innocent girl to die of grief through your fault. I am determined to tell them all about it.”

      “Be silent, you simpleton!” cried Danglars, grasping him by the arm, “or I will not answer even for your own safety. Who can tell whether Dantes be innocent or guilty? The vessel did touch at Elba, where he quitted it, and passed a whole day in the island. Now, should any letters or other documents of a compromising character be found upon him, will it not be taken for granted that all who uphold him are his accomplices?”

      With the rapid instinct of selfishness, Caderousse readily perceived the solidity of this mode of reasoning; he gazed, doubtfully, wistfully, on Danglars, and then caution supplanted generosity.

      “Suppose we wait a while, and see what comes of it,” said he, casting a bewildered look on his companion.

      “To be sure!” answered Danglars. “Let us wait, by all means. If he be innocent, of course he will be set at liberty; if guilty, why, it is no use involving ourselves in a conspiracy.”

      “Let us go, then. I cannot stay here any longer.”

      “With all my heart!” replied Danglars, pleased to find the other so tractable. “Let us take ourselves out of the way, and leave things for the present to take their course.”

      After

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