LITMIR.BIZ

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leave to go and serve in Greece, still having his name kept on the army roll. Some time after, it was stated that the Comte de Morcerf (this was the name he bore) had entered the service of Ali Pasha with the rank of instructor-general. Ali Pasha was killed, as you know, but before he died he recompensed the services of Fernand by leaving him a considerable sum, with which he returned to France, when he was gazetted lieutenant-general.”

      “So that now?” — inquired the abbe.

      “So that now,” continued Caderousse, “he owns a magnificent house — No. 27, Rue du Helder, Paris.” The abbe opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then, making an effort at self-control, he said, “And Mercedes — they tell me that she has disappeared?”

      “Disappeared,” said Caderousse, “yes, as the sun disappears, to rise the next day with still more splendor.”

      “Has she made a fortune also?” inquired the abbe, with an ironical smile.

      “Mercedes is at this moment one of the greatest ladies in Paris,” replied Caderousse.

      “Go on,” said the abbe; “it seems as if I were listening to the story of a dream. But I have seen things so extraordinary, that what you tell me seems less astonishing than it otherwise might.”

      “Mercedes was at first in the deepest despair at the blow which deprived her of Edmond. I have told you of her attempts to propitiate M. de Villefort, her devotion to the elder Dantes. In the midst of her despair, a new affliction overtook her. This was the departure of Fernand — of Fernand, whose crime she did not know, and whom she regarded as her brother. Fernand went, and Mercedes remained alone. Three months passed and still she wept — no news of Edmond, no news of Fernand, no companionship save that of an old man who was dying with despair. One evening, after a day of accustomed vigil at the angle of two roads leading to Marseilles from the Catalans, she returned to her home more depressed than ever. Suddenly she heard a step she knew, turned anxiously around, the door opened, and Fernand, dressed in the uniform of a sub-lieutenant, stood before her. It was not the one she wished for most, but it seemed as if a part of her past life had returned to her. Mercedes seized Fernand’s hands with a transport which he took for love, but which was only joy at being no longer alone in the world, and seeing at last a friend, after long hours of solitary sorrow. And then, it must be confessed, Fernand had never been hated — he was only not precisely loved. Another possessed all Mercedes’ heart; that other was absent, had disappeared, perhaps was dead. At this last thought Mercedes burst into a flood of tears, and wrung her hands in agony; but the thought, which she had always repelled before when it was suggested to her by another, came now in full force upon her mind; and then, too, old Dantes incessantly said to her, `Our Edmond is dead; if he were not, he would return to us.’ The old man died, as I have told you; had he lived, Mercedes, perchance, had not become the wife of another, for he would have been there to reproach her infidelity. Fernand saw this, and when he learned of the old man’s death he returned. He was now a lieutenant. At his first coming he had not said a word of love to Mercedes; at the second he reminded her that he loved her. Mercedes begged for six months more in which to await and mourn for Edmond.”

      “So that,” said the abbe, with a bitter smile, “that makes eighteen months in all. What more could the most devoted lover desire?” Then he murmured the words of the English poet, “`Frailty, thy name is woman.’”

      “Six months afterwards,” continued Caderousse, “the marriage took place in the church of Accoules.”

      “The very church in which she was to have married Edmond,” murmured the priest; “there was only a change of bride-grooms.”

      “Well, Mercedes was married,” proceeded Caderousse; “but although in the eyes of the world she appeared calm, she nearly fainted as she passed La Reserve, where, eighteen months before, the betrothal had been celebrated with him whom she might have known she still loved had she looked to the bottom of her heart. Fernand, more happy, but not more at his ease — for I saw at this time he was in constant dread of Edmond’s return — Fernand was very anxious to get his wife away, and to depart himself. There were too many unpleasant possibilities associated with the Catalans, and eight days after the wedding they left Marseilles.”

      “Did you ever see Mercedes again?” inquired the priest.

      “Yes, during the Spanish war, at Perpignan, where Fernand had left her; she was attending to the education of her son.” The abbe started. “Her son?” said he.

      “Yes,” replied Caderousse, “little Albert.”

      “But, then, to be able to instruct her child,” continued the abbe, “she must have received an education herself. I understood from Edmond that she was the daughter of a simple fisherman, beautiful but uneducated.”

      “Oh,” replied Caderousse, “did he know so little of his lovely betrothed? Mercedes might have been a queen, sir, if the crown were to be placed on the heads of the loveliest and most intelligent. Fernand’s fortune was already waxing great, and she developed with his growing fortune. She learned drawing, music — everything. Besides, I believe, between ourselves, she did this in order to distract her mind, that she might forget; and she only filled her head in order to alleviate the weight on her heart. But now her position in life is assured,” continued Caderousse; “no doubt fortune and honors have comforted her; she is rich, a countess, and yet” — Caderousse paused.

      “And yet what?” asked the abbe.

      “Yet, I am sure, she is not happy,” said Caderousse.

      “What makes you believe this?”

      “Why, when I found myself utterly destitute, I thought my old friends would, perhaps, assist me. So I went to Danglars, who would not even receive me. I called on Fernand, who sent me a hundred francs by his valet-de-chambre.”

      “Then you did not see either of them?”

      “No, but Madame de Morcerf saw me.”

      “How was that?”

      “As I went away a purse fell at my feet — it contained five and twenty louis; I raised my head quickly, and saw Mercedes, who at once shut the blind.”

      “And M. de Villefort?” asked the abbe.

      “Oh, he never was a friend of mine, I did not know him, and I had nothing to ask of him.”

      “Do you not know what became of him, and the share he had in Edmond’s misfortunes?”

      “No; I only know that some time after Edmond’s arrest, he married Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran, and soon after left Marseilles; no doubt he has been as lucky as the rest; no doubt he is as rich as Danglars, as high in station as Fernand. I only, as you see, have remained poor, wretched, and forgotten.”

      “You are mistaken, my friend,” replied the abbe; “God may seem sometimes to forget for a time, while his justice reposes, but there always comes a moment when he remembers — and behold — a proof!” As he spoke, the abbe took the diamond from his pocket, and giving it to Caderousse, said, — “Here, my friend, take this diamond, it is yours.”

      “What, for me only?” cried Caderousse, “ah, sir, do not jest with me!”

      “This diamond was to have been shared among his friends. Edmond had one friend only, and thus it cannot be divided. Take the diamond, then, and sell it; it is worth fifty thousand francs, and I repeat my wish that this sum may suffice to release you from your wretchedness.”

      “Oh, sir,” said Caderousse, putting out one hand timidly, and with the other wiping away the perspiration which bedewed his brow, — “Oh, sir, do not make a jest of the happiness or despair of a man.”

      “I know what happiness and what despair are, and I never make a jest of such feelings. Take it, then, but in exchange — “

      Caderousse, who touched the diamond, withdrew his hand. The abbe smiled. “In exchange,” he continued, “give me the red silk purse that M. Morrel left on old Dantes’ chimney-piece, and which you

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