"You lie," repeated the abbe a third time, with a still more imperative tone.Caderousse, terrified, looked at the count.
"You have lived on the money he has given you.""True," said Caderousse; "Benedetto has become the son of a great lord.""How can he be the son of a great lord?"
"A natural son."
"And what is that great lord's name?"
"The Count of Monte Cristo, the very same in whose house we are.""Benedetto the count's son?" replied Monte Cristo, astonished in his turn.
"Well, I should think so, since the count has found him a false father -- since the count gives him four thousand francs a month, and leaves him 500,000 francs in his will.""Ah, yes," said the factitious abbe, who began to understand; "and what name does the young man bear meanwhile?""Andrea Cavalcanti."
"Is it, then, that young man whom my friend the Count of Monte Cristo has received into his house, and who is going to marry Mademoiselle Danglars?""Exactly."
"And you suffer that, you wretch -- you, who know his life and his crime?""Why should I stand in a comrade's way?" said Caderousse.
"You are right; it is not you who should apprise M.
Danglars, it is I."
"Do not do so, reverend sir."
"Why not?"
"Because you would bring us to ruin."
"And you think that to save such villains as you I will become an abettor of their plot, an accomplice in their crimes?""Reverend sir," said Caderousse, drawing still nearer.
"I will expose all."
"To whom?"
"To M.Danglars."
"By heaven!" cried Caderousse, drawing from his waistcoat an open knife, and striking the count in the breast, "you shall disclose nothing, reverend sir!" To Caderousse's great astonishment, the knife, instead of piercing the count's breast, flew back blunted.At the same moment the count seized with his left hand the assassin's wrist, and wrung it with such strength that the knife fell from his stiffened fingers, and Caderousse uttered a cry of pain.But the count, disregarding his cry, continued to wring the bandit's wrist, until, his arm being dislocated, he fell first on his knees, then flat on the floor.The count then placed his foot on his head, saying, "I know not what restrains me from crushing thy skull, rascal.""Ah, mercy -- mercy!" cried Caderousse.The count withdrew his foot."Rise!" said he.Caderousse rose.
"What a wrist you have, reverend sir!" said Caderousse.
stroking his arm, all bruised by the fleshy pincers which had held it; "what a wrist!""Silence! God gives me strength to overcome a wild beast like you; in the name of that God I act, -- remember that, wretch, -- and to spare thee at this moment is still serving him.""Oh!" said Caderousse, groaning with pain.
"Take this pen and paper, and write what I dictate.""I don't know how to write, reverend sir.""You lie! Take this pen, and write!" Caderousse, awed by the superior power of the abbe, sat down and wrote: --Sir, -- The man whom you are receiving at your house, and to whom you intend to marry your daughter, is a felon who escaped with me from confinement at Toulon.He was No.59, and I No.58.He was called Benedetto, but he is ignorant of his real name, having never known his parents.
"Sign it!" continued the count.
"But would you ruin me?"
"If I sought your ruin, fool, I should drag you to the first guard-house; besides, when that note is delivered, in all probability you will have no more to fear.Sign it, then!"Caderousse signed it."The address, `To monsieur the Baron Danglars, banker, Rue de la Chaussee d'Antin.'" Caderousse wrote the address.The abbe took the note."Now," said he, "that suffices -- begone!""Which way?"
"The way you came."
"You wish me to get out at that window?"
"You got in very well."
