THE DAY following that on which the conversation we have related took place, the Count of Monte Cristo set out for Auteuil, accompanied by Ali and several attendants, and also taking with him some horses whose qualities he was desirous of ascertaining². He was induced to undertake this journey, of which the day before he had not even thought and which had not occurred to Andrea either, by the arrival of Bertuccio from Normandy with intelligence respecting the house and sloop³. The house was ready, and the sloop which had arrived a week before lay at anchor in a small creek⁴ with her crew of six men, who had observed all the requisite⁵ formalities and were ready again to put to sea.

The count praised Bertuccio's zeal⁶, and ordered him to prepare for a speedy departure, as his stay in France would not be prolonged more than a mouth. "Now," said he, "I may require to go in one night from Paris to Tréport; let eight fresh horses be in readiness on the road, which will enable me to go fifty leagues in ten hours."

"Your highness had already expressed that wish," said Bertuccio, "and the horses are ready. I have bought them, and stationed them myself at the most desirable posts, that is, in villages, where no one generally stops."

"That's well," said Monte Cristo; "I remain here a day or two--arrange accordingly." As Bertuccio was leaving the room to give the requisite orders, Baptistin opened the door: he held a letter on a silver waiter.

"What are you doing here?" asked the count, seeing him covered with dust; "I did not send for you, I think?"

Baptistin, without answering, approached the count, and presented the letter. "Important and urgent," said he. The count opened the letter, and read:--

"M. de Monte Cristo is apprised⁸ that this night a man will enter his house in the Champs-Elysées with the intention of carrying off some papers supposed to be in the secretary in the dressing-room. The count's well-known courage will render unnecessary the aid of the police, whose interference might seriously affect him who sends this advice. The count, by any opening from the bedroom, or by concealing¹⁰ himself in the dressing-room, would be able to defend his property himself. Many attendents or apparent precautions would prevent the villain¹¹ from the attempt, and M. de Monte Cristo would lose the opportunity of discovering an enemy whom chance has revealed to him who now sends this warning to the count,--a warning he might not be able to send another time, if this first attempt should fail and another be made."

The count's first idea was that this was an artifice--a gross deception¹², to draw his attention from a minor¹³ danger in order to expose him to a greater. He was on the point of sending the letter to the commissary of police, notwithstanding the advice of his anonymous¹⁵ friend, or perhaps because of that advice, when suddenly the idea occurred to him that it might be some personal enemy, whom he alone should recognize and over whom, if such were the case, he alone would gain any advantage, as Fiesco* had done over the Moor¹⁶ who would have killed him. We know the Count's vigorous and daring mind, denying anything to be impossible, with that energy which marks the great man. From his past life, from his resolution to shrink from nothing, the count had acquired an inconceivable relish¹⁷ for the contests in which he had engaged, sometimes against nature, that is to say, against God, and sometimes against the world, that is, against the devil.

* The Genoese conspirator¹⁸.

"They do not want my papers," said Monte Cristo, "they want to kill me; they are no robbers, but assassins. I will not allow the prefect of police to interfere⁹ with my private affairs. I am rich enough, forsooth, to distribute his authority on this occasion." The count recalled Baptistin, who had left the room after delivering the letter. "Return to Paris," said he; "assemble the servants who remain there. I want all my household at Auteuil."

"But will no one remain in the house, my lord?" asked Baptistin.

"Yes, the porter."

"My lord will remember that the lodge¹⁹ is at a distance from the house."

"Well?"

"The house might be stripped without his hearing the least noise."

"By whom?"

"By thieves."

"You are a fool, M. Baptistin. Thieves might strip the house--it would annoy me less than to be disobeyed." Baptistin bowed.

"You understand me?" said the count. "Bring your comrades here, one and all; but let everything remain as usual, only close the shutters²⁰ of the ground floor."

"And those of the second floor?"

"You know they are never closed. Go!"

The count signified his intention of dining alone, and that no one but Ali should attend him. Having dined with his usual tranquillity²¹ and moderation, the count, making a signal to Ali to follow him, went out by the side-gate and on reaching the Bois de Boulogne turned, apparently²² without design towards Paris and at twilight²³; found himself opposite his house in the Champs-Elysées. All was dark; one solitary²⁴, feeble light was burning in the porter's lodge, about forty paces distant from the house, as Baptistin had said. Monte Cristo leaned against a tree, and with that scrutinizing²⁵ glance which was so rarely deceived, looked up and down the avenue, examined the passers-by, and carefully looked down the neighboring streets, to see that no one was concealed²⁶. Ten minutes passed thus, and he was convinced that no one was watching him. He hastened to the side-door with Ali, entered hurriedly, and by the servants' staircase, of which he had the key, gained his bedroom without opening or disarranging a single curtain, without even the porter having the slightest suspicion that the house, which he supposed empty, contained its chief occupant.

Arrived in his bedroom, the count motioned to Ali to stop; then he passed into the dressing-room, which he examined. Everything appeared as usual--the precious secretary in its place, and the key in the secretary. He double locked it, took the key, returned to the bedroom door, removed the double staple²⁷ of the bolt, and went in. Meanwhile Ali had procured²⁸ the arms the count required--namely, a short carbine and a pair of double-barrelled pistols, with which as sure an aim might be taken as with a single-barrelled one. Thus armed, the count held the lives of five men in his hands. It was about half-past nine. The count and Ali ate in haste a crust of bread and drank a glass of Spanish wine; then Monte Cristo slipped aside one of the movable panels, which enabled him to see into the adjoining room. He had within his reach his pistols and carbine, and Ali, standing¹⁴ near him, held one of the small Arabian hatchets³¹, whose form has not varied³² since the Crusades. Through one of the windows of the bedroom, on a line with that in the dressing-room, the count could see into the street.

Two hours passed thus. It was intensely dark; still Ali, thanks to his wild nature, and the count, thanks doubtless to his long confinement³³, could distinguish in the darkness the slightest movement of the trees. The little light in the lodge had long been extinct. It might be expected that the attack, if indeed an attack was projected, would be made from the staircase of the ground floor, and not from a window; in Monte Cristo's opinion, the villains³⁴ sought his life, not his money. It would be his bedroom they would attack, and they must reach it by the back staircase, or by the window in the dressing-room. The clock of the Invalides struck a quarter to twelve; the west wind bore on its moistened gusts³⁵ the doleful vibration³⁶ of the three strokes.

As the last stroke died away, the count thought he heard a slight noise in the dressing-room; this first sound, or rather this first grinding, was followed by a second, then a third; at the fourth, the count knew what to expect. A firm and well-practised hand was engaged in cutting the four sides of a pane²⁹ of glass with a diamond. The count felt his heart beat more rapidly. Inured³⁷ as men may be to danger, forewarned as they may be of peril³⁸, they understand, by the fluttering of the heart and the shuddering³⁹ of the frame, the enormous difference between a dream and a reality, between the project and the execution. However, Monte Cristo only made a sign to apprise⁷ Ali, who, understanding that danger was approaching from the other side, drew nearer to his master. Monte Cristo was eager to ascertain¹ the strength and number of his enemies.

The window whence the noise proceeded was opposite the opening by which the count could see into the dressing-room. He fixed⁴⁰ his eyes on that window--he distinguished⁴¹ a shadow in the darkness; then one of the panes⁴² became quite opaque⁴³, as if a sheet of paper were stuck on the outside, then the square cracked without falling. Through the opening an arm was passed to find the fastening, then a second; the window turned on its hinges, and a man entered. He was alone.

"That's a daring rascal⁴⁴," whispered the count.

At that moment Ali touched him slightly on the shoulder. He turned; Ali pointed⁴⁵ to the window of the room in which they were, facing the street. "I see!" said he, "there are two of them; one does the work while the other stands guard." He made a sign to Ali not to lose sight of the man in the street, and turned to the one in the dressing-room.

The glass-cutter had entered, and was feeling his way, his arms stretched out before him. At last he appeared to have made himself familiar with his surroundings. There were two doors; he bolted them both.

When he drew near to the bedroom door, Monte Cristo expected that he was coming in, and raised one of his pistols; but he simply heard the sound of the bolts sliding in their copper⁴⁶ rings. It was only a precaution. The nocturnal visitor, ignorant of the fact that the count had removed the staples⁴⁷, might now think himself at home, and pursue his purpose with full security. Alone and free to act as he wished, the man then drew from his pocket something which the count could not discern, placed it on a stand, then went straight to the secretary, felt the lock, and contrary to his expectation found that the key was missing. But the glass-cutter was a prudent⁴⁸ man who had provided for all emergencies. The count soon heard the rattling⁴⁹ of a bunch of skeleton keys, such as the locksmith brings when called to force a lock, and which thieves call nightingales, doubtless from the music of their nightly song when they grind against the bolt. "Ah, ha," whispered Monte Cristo with a smile of disappointment, "he is only a thief."

But the man in the dark could not find the right key. He reached the instrument he had placed on the stand, touched a spring, and immediately a pale light, just bright enough to render objects distinct, was reflected on his hands and countenance⁵⁰. "By heavens," exclaimed Monte Cristo, starting back, "it is"--

Ali raised his hatchet³⁰. "Don't stir," whispered Monte Cristo, "and put down your hatchet; we shall require no arms." Then he added some words in a low tone, for the exclamation⁵¹ which surprise had drawn⁵² from the count, faint as it had been, had startled the man who remained in the pose of the old knife-grinder. It was an order the count had just given, for immediately Ali went noiselessly, and returned, bearing a black dress and a three-cornered hat. Meanwhile Monte Cristo had rapidly taken off his great-coat, waistcoat, and shirt, and one might distinguish by the glimmering⁵³ through the open panel that he wore a pliant⁵⁴ tunic⁵⁵ of steel mail, of which the last in France, where daggers⁵⁷ are no longer dreaded⁵⁸, was worn by King Louis XVI, who feared the dagger⁵⁶ at his breast, and whose head was cleft⁵⁹ with a hatchet. The tunic soon disappeared under a long cassock, as did his hair under a priest's wig⁶⁰; the three-cornered hat over this effectually transformed the count into an abbé.

The man, hearing nothing more, stood erect⁶¹, and while Monte Cristo was completing his disguise had advanced straight to the secretary, whose lock was beginning to crack under his nightingale. "Try again," whispered the count, who depended on the secret spring, which was unknown to the picklock, clever as he might be--"try again, you have a few minutes' work there." And he advanced to the window. The man whom he had seen seated on a fence had got down, and was still pacing the street; but, strange as it appeared, he cared not for those who might pass from the avenue of the Champs-Elysées or by the Faubourg St. Honoré; his attention was engrossed⁶² with what was passing at the count's, and his only aim appeared to be to discern every movement in the dressing-room.

Monte Cristo suddenly struck his finger on his forehead and a smile passed over his lips; then drawing near to Ali, he whispered,--

"Remain here, concealed in the dark, and whatever noise you hear, whatever passes, only come in or show yourself if I call you." Ali bowed in token of strict obedience⁶³. Monte Cristo then drew a lighted taper⁶⁴ from a closet, and when the thief was deeply engaged with his lock, silently opened the door, taking care that the light should shine directly on his face. The door opened so quietly that the thief heard no sound; but, to his astonishment⁶⁵, the room was suddenly illuminated⁶⁶. He turned.

"Ah, good-evening, my dear M. Caderousse," said Monte Cristo; "what are you doing here, at such an hour?"

"The Abbé Busoni!" exclaimed Caderousse; and, not knowing how this strange apparition⁶⁷ could have entered when he had bolted the doors, he let fall his bunch of keys, and remained motionless and stupefied. The count placed himself between Caderousse and the window, thus cutting off from the thief his only chance of retreat. "The Abbé Busoni!" repeated Caderousse, fixing his haggard gaze on the count.

"Yes, undoubtedly⁶⁸, the Abbé Busoni himself," replied Monte Cristo. "And I am very glad you recognize me, dear M. Caderousse; it proves you have a good memory, for it must be about ten years since we last met." This calmness of Busoni, combined with his irony⁶⁹ and boldness, staggered Caderousse.

"The abbé, the abbé!" murmured he, clinching⁷⁰ his fists, and his teeth chattering⁷¹.

"So you would rob the Count of Monte Cristo?" continued the false abbé.

"Reverend sir," murmured Caderousse, seeking to regain⁷² the window, which the count pitilessly blocked--"reverend sir, I don't know--believe me--I take my oath"--

"A pane of glass out," continued the count, "a dark lantern, a bunch of false keys, a secretary half forced--it is tolerably evident"--

Caderousse was choking; he looked around for some corner to hide in, some way of escape.

"Come, come," continued the count, "I see you are still the same,--an assassin."

"Reverend sir, since you know everything, you know it was not I--it was La Carconte; that was proved at the trial, since I was only condemned⁷³ to the galleys⁷⁴."

"Is your time, then, expired, since I find you in a fair way to return there?"

"No, reverend sir; I have been liberated⁷⁵ by some one."

"That some one has done society a great kindness."

"Ah," said Caderousse, "I had promised"--

"And you are breaking your promise!" interrupted Monte Cristo.

"Alas⁷⁶, yes!" said Caderousse very uneasily.

"A bad relapse, that will lead you, if I mistake not, to the Place de Grève. So much the worse, so much the worse--diavolo, as they say in my country."

"Reverend sir, I am impelled"--

"Every criminal says the same thing."

"Poverty"--

"Pshaw!" said Busoni disdainfully; "poverty may make a man beg, steal a loaf of bread at a baker's door, but not cause him to open a secretary in a house supposed to be inhabited. And when the jeweller Johannes had just paid you 40,000 francs for the diamond I had given you, and you killed him to get the diamond and the money both, was that also poverty?"

"Pardon, reverend sir," said Caderousse; "you have saved my life once, save me again!"

"That is but poor encouragement."

"Are you alone, reverend sir, or have you there soldiers ready to seize me?"

"I am alone," said the abbé, "and I will again have pity on you, and will let you escape, at the risk of the fresh miseries⁷⁷ my weakness may lead to, if you tell me the truth."

"Ah, reverend sir," cried Caderousse, clasping his hands, and drawing nearer to Monte Cristo, "I may indeed say you are my deliverer!"

"You mean to say you have been freed from confinement?"

"Yes, that is true, reverend sir."

"Who was your liberator⁷⁹?"

"An Englishman."

"What was his name?"

"Lord Wilmore."

"I know him; I shall know if you lie."

"Ah, reverend sir, I tell you the simple truth."

"Was this Englishman protecting you?"

"No, not me, but a young Corsican, my companion."

"What was this young Corsican's name?"

"Benedetto."

"Is that his Christian⁸⁰ name?"

"He had no other; he was a foundling."

"Then this young man escaped with you?"

"He did."

"In what way?"

"We were working at St. Mandrier, near Toulon. Do you know St. Mandrier?"

"I do."

"In the hour of rest, between noon and one o'clock"--

"Galley-slaves having a nap after dinner! We may well pity the poor fellows!" said the abbé.

"Nay," said Caderousse, "one can't always work--one is not a dog."

"So much the better for the dogs," said Monte Cristo.

"While the rest slept, then, we went away a short distance; we severed⁸¹ our fetters⁸² with a file the Englishman had given us, and swam away."

"And what is become of this Benedetto?"

"I don't know."

"You ought to know."

"No, in truth; we parted at Hyères." And, to give more weight to his protestation, Caderousse advanced another step towards the abbé, who remained motionless in his place, as calm as ever, and pursuing his interrogation. "You lie," said the Abbé Busoni, with a tone of irresistible⁸³ authority.

"Reverend sir!"

"You lie! This man is still your friend, and you, perhaps, make use of him as your accomplice⁸⁴."

"Oh, reverend sir!"

"Since you left Toulon what have you lived on? Answer me!"

"On what I could get."

"You lie," repeated the abbé a third time, with a still more imperative⁸⁵ 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 abbé, 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 wrung⁸⁶ it with such strength that the knife fell from his stiffened⁸⁷ fingers, and Caderousse uttered a cry of pain. But the count, disregarding his cry, continued to wring⁸⁸ 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 skull⁸⁹, 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 bruised⁹⁰ 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, groaning⁹² with pain.

"Take this pen and paper, and write what I dictate⁹³."

"I don't know how to write, reverend sir."

"You lie! Take this pen, and write!" Caderousse, awed⁹⁴ by the superior power of the abbé, 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 felon⁹⁵ 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 Baron⁹⁶ Danglars, banker, Rue⁷⁸ de la Chaussée d'Antin.'" Caderousse wrote the address. The abbé 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."

"Oh, you have some design against me, reverend sir."

"Idiot! what design can I have?"

"Why, then, not let me out by the door?"

"What would be the advantage of waking the porter?"--

"Ah, reverend sir, tell me, do you wish me dead?"

"I wish what God wills."

"But swear that you will not strike me as I go down."

"Cowardly fool!"

"What do you intend doing with me?"

"I ask you what can I do? I have tried to make you a happy man, and you have turned out a murderer."

"Oh, monsieur," said Caderousse, "make one more attempt--try me once more!"

"I will," said the count. "Listen--you know if I may be relied on."

"Yes," said Caderousse.

"If you arrive safely at home"--

"What have I to fear, except from you?"

"If you reach your home safely, leave Paris, leave France, and wherever you may be, so long as you conduct yourself well, I will send you a small annuity⁹⁷; for, if you return home safely, then"--

"Then?" asked Caderousse, shuddering.

"Then I shall believe God has forgiven you, and I will forgive you too."

"As true as I am a Christian," stammered⁹⁸ Caderousse, "you will make me die of fright!"

"Now begone," said the count, pointing to the window.

Caderousse, scarcely yet relying on this promise, put his legs out of the window and stood on the ladder. "Now go down," said the abbé, folding his arms. Understanding he had nothing more to fear from him, Caderousse began to go down. Then the count brought the taper to the window, that it might be seen in the Champs-Elysées that a man was getting out of the window while another held a light.

"What are you doing, reverend sir? Suppose a watchman should pass?" And he blew out the light. He then descended¹⁰⁰, but it was only when he felt his foot touch the ground that he was satisfied of his safety.

Monte Cristo returned to his bedroom, and, glancing rapidly from the garden to the street, he saw first Caderousse, who after walking to the end of the garden, fixed his ladder against the wall at a different part from where he came in. The count then looking over into the street, saw the man who appeared to be waiting run in the same direction, and place himself against the angle of the wall where Caderousse would come over. Caderousse climbed the ladder slowly, and looked over the coping to see if the street was quiet. No one could be seen or heard. The clock of the Invalides struck one. Then Caderousse sat astride the coping, and drawing up his ladder passed it over the wall; then he began to descend⁹⁹, or rather to slide down by the two stanchions, which he did with an ease which proved how accustomed he was to the exercise. But, once started, he could not stop. In vain did he see a man start from the shadow when he was halfway¹⁰¹ down--in vain did he see an arm raised as he touched the ground. Before he could defend himself that arm struck him so violently in the back that he let go the ladder, crying, "Help!" A second blow struck him almost immediately in the side, and he fell, calling, "Help, murder!" Then, as he rolled on the ground, his adversary¹⁰² seized him by the hair, and struck him a third blow in the chest. This time Caderousse endeavored to call again, but he could only utter a groan⁹¹, and he shuddered¹⁰³ as the blood flowed from his three wounds. The assassin, finding that he no longer cried out, lifted his head up by the hair; his eyes were closed, and the mouth was distorted. The murderer, supposing him dead, let fall his head and disappeared. Then Caderousse, feeling that he was leaving him, raised himself on his elbow, and with a dying voice cried with great effort, "Murder! I am dying! Help, reverend sir,--help!"

This mournful appeal pierced the darkness. The door of the back-staircase opened, then the side-gate of the garden, and Ali and his master were on the spot with lights.

在我们所叙述的那一场谈话发生后的第二天，基督山伯爵带着阿里和几个随从到欧特伊去，他还带了几匹马同去，想到那儿去确定它们的品质。他这次出门安德烈事先并不知道，甚至伯爵自己在前一天也不曾想到；他这次到欧特伊去是贝尔图乔促成的，因为他刚从诺曼底回来，带来了房子和单桅船的消息。房子已经买妥了，那艘单桅船是在一星期以前到的，现在已下锚在一条小溪里，船上的六个船员已办妥一切必需的手续，随时都可以出海。伯爵对贝尔图乔的热心办事称赞了几句，吩咐他随时准备好突然起程，因为他在法国逗留的时间不会超过一个月了。

“现在，”他说，“我或许需要在一夜之间就从巴黎跑到的黎港，路上随时准备好八匹快马，可以使我在十小时之内走完一百五十哩路程。”

“太人已经表示过那种希望了，”贝尔图乔说，“那些马已经准备好了，都是我亲自去买、亲自去派定地点的。我所选的都是最合宜的地点，就是，在普通没有人驻足的小村子里。”

“那很好，”基督山说，“我要在这儿住一两天，你根据这一点去布置吧。”

贝尔图乔正要离开房间去作必要的吩咐的时候，巴浦斯汀开门进来了；他拿着一只银盘，银盘上放着一封信。

“你到这儿来干什么？”伯爵看到他那种风尘仆仆的样子，就问道。“我想，我并没有派人去叫你吧？”

巴浦斯汀并不回答，走到伯爵面前，呈上那封信。“是紧要的急信。”他说。伯爵拆开信，读道：“兹通知基督山先生：今天晚上有人要到他香榭丽舍大道的家里去，想在更衣室的写字台里窃取某些文件。伯爵素以勇敢闻名，大可不必请警察局帮忙，警察局的干涉或许会严重地影响到送这封忠告信的人。伯爵只要躲在寝室的门窗后面，或隐藏在更衣室里，就足以亲自保护他的财产。过多的侍从或明显的防范会阻止那个恶棍的企图；而基督山先生就会因此丧失发现一个敌人的机会。写这封警告信给伯爵的人是碰巧探听到这个企图的，假如这第一次的企图失败，将来再发生同样的企图的时候，他就不能再来警告了。”

伯爵的初念以为是贼党的一个诡计——是一套大骗法，要把他的注意力吸引到一个较小的危险上去，以便使遭受一个更大的危险。他原想不顾他那位匿名朋友的劝告——或许正因为那个劝告——要把那封信送到警察总监那儿去，但转念一想，那或许真是一个只有他自己能认识的仇人，假如真是如此，那末还是他独自对付为妙。我们知道伯爵是怎样一个人；他的脑子里充满着坚强大胆的意志，他自称天下无不可能的事情，单凭那种魄力，就足以证明他和常人不同，这些都是毋庸我们再说的了。根据他过去的生活，根据他那种无所畏惧的决心，伯爵在他以往所经历的种种斗争里获得了一种难以想象的好斗的精神，有时他斗争的对象是自然，那就是上帝，有时他斗争的对象是世界，那可以说就是魔鬼。

“他们不是要我的文件，”基督山说，“他们是想来杀死我。他们不是窃贼，而是刺客。我不愿意让警察总监来干涉我的私事。我很有钱，这件事情大可不必去占掉他那部门里的一部分预算经费。”巴浦斯汀交了信以后就退出房间，伯爵又把他叫回来。“你回到巴黎去，”他说，“把那儿的仆人都找来。我要全家的人都到欧特伊来。”

“但那座房子里一个人都不留吗，大人？”巴浦斯汀问。

“不，留下门房。”

“大人记得门房离正屋是很远的。”

“嗯！”

“假如有人去偷东西，他一点都不会听到声音。”

“谁去偷？”

“贼。”

“你是一个傻瓜，巴浦斯汀先生！贼或许会到房子里去偷东西，但那种事情却还不如有人不服从我那样可恼。”巴浦斯汀鞠了一躬。

“你懂得我的意思了吗？”伯爵说。“把你的同伴都带到这儿来，全体都来。但一切东西都依旧照常，只是把楼下的百叶窗关了。”

“二楼的呢？”

“你知道这是从来不关的。去吧！”

伯爵表示他想独自进餐，只要阿里一个侍候他。他照常以从容不迫的态度吃了饭，然后向阿里做了一个手势，叫他跟随他：他从边门出去，走到布洛涅大道，好象无意似地踏上到巴黎去的路，在黄昏时候，他发觉自己已经到了香榭丽舍大道三十号对面。他的屋子里一片漆黑，只有门房的卧室里点着一盏昏黄的孤灯，而正如巴浦斯汀所说的，门房和正室之间还相隔着四十步距离。基督山靠在一棵树上，用他那绝少错漏的眼光搜索马路，审察往来的行人，仔细探望邻近的街道，看有没有人躲在那儿。这样过了十分钟，他相信并没有人在注意他。他急忙带着阿里趋向侧门，轻捷地用钥匙打开门上的锁，挨身进去，从仆人的楼梯走上他的寝室；他不曾掀动一张窗帷，所以甚至连门房都绝未怀疑到屋主已经回来，他始终还以为是一座空屋。

一到他的寝室里，伯爵就示意叫阿里止步；然后他走进更衣室里，详细检查了一番。一切都照常——那张宝贵的写字台仍在原位，钥匙依旧插在抽屉上。他把抽屉结结实实地锁上，拿了钥匙，回到寝室门口，除掉门上的搭扣，走进寝室里。这当儿，阿里已准备好伯爵需要的武器，——就是，一支短柄的马枪和一对单铳手枪一样容易瞄准的双铳手枪。有了这样的武装，伯爵手里就已掌握着五个人的性命。那时约莫是九点半钟光景。伯爵和阿里匆匆吃了一块面包，喝了一杯西班牙葡萄酒；然后基督山移开一块可移动的嵌板，由此注视隔壁房间里的情形。手枪和马枪就在他的身边，阿里站在他的附近，手里握着一把那种自十字军以来从未改变过式样的阿拉伯小斧头。从和更衣室平行的寝室的窗口里望出去，伯爵可以看到外面的街道。两个钟头就这样过去了。夜色非常浓黑；可是阿里和伯爵，前者由于他那野性的本质，后者无疑的得感谢他长期的狱中生活，却依旧能在黑暗中辨别出树枝的微动。门房里的那盏小灯早已熄灭了。假如真的有人要来袭击的话，那末，他们应该从下面的楼梯上来，而不会从窗口里进来。据基督山的意见，那些匪徒所要的是他的性命，而不是他的金钱。他们攻击的目标将是他的寝室，他们必须从后面的楼梯上来，或是从更衣室的窗口里进来。他让阿里守住通楼梯的那个门口，自己则继续注视更衣室。

残废军人疗养院的时钟敲打十一点三刻了；西风带来了三下凄凉的、颤抖的钟声。当最后一下钟声消逝的时候，伯爵好象觉得听到更衣室那方面发出一下轻微的响声。这是第一下响声，说得更准确些，这是一下刻划东西的声音，接着就来了第二下、第三下；当第四下响声发出的时候，伯爵知道那是怎么一回事了。一只坚定而熟练的手正在用一颗钻石刻划一格玻璃窗的四边。伯爵觉得他的心跳得更急促了。凡是事先知道要遭遇危险的人，当危险真正临头的时候，他们的心还是会猛跳，他们的身体还是会不由自主地颤抖，这就是梦境与现实以及计划与实行之间的大区别。但基督山却只作了一个手势通知阿里，阿里懂得危险是在从更衣室那方面过来，就向他的主人挨近一点。基督山急于想确定他敌人的人数和实力。

发出响声的那个窗口正和伯爵望入更衣室的那个洞口相对。他的眼睛一眨不眨地盯住那个洞口；他在黑暗中辨别出一个人影。然后有一格玻璃变成不透明的了。象是在外面粘上了一张纸似的；接着，那一方块玻璃格啦地响了一声，但并没有掉下来。一只手臂从窗洞里伸进来找搭扣。一秒钟以后，整个窗子转开来了，外面进来了一个人。他只有一个人。

“那个混蛋真大胆！”伯爵低声地说。

那当儿，阿里轻轻地在他的肩胛上拍了一下。他转过去来，阿里指一指寝室向街的那个窗口。基督山向那个窗口跨近三步，他知道他这个忠仆的目光非常敏锐。的确，他又看见了一个人，那个人正从门影里走出来，爬到矮墙顶上，似乎想探望里面的情形。“好！”他说，“有两个人，一个动手，一个望风。”他向阿里做了一个手势，要他监视街上的那个人。

自己则回来注意更衣室里的那一个。

那个划玻璃的人已经进来了，正伸着两臂在那儿摸索。最后，他似乎把房间里的情形摸熟了。房间里有两扇门，他把那两房门都闩上。

当他走近通寝室的那扇门的时候，基督山以为他会进来，就举起一支手枪；但他只听到门闩滑动的声音。这只是一种预防手段。那位午夜的访客因为不知道伯爵已把搭扣除掉，以为自己现在已很安全，就泰然自若地开始起来。他从口袋里摸了一样东西，但究竟是什么东西，伯爵看不清楚，只见他把那样东西放在一张茶几上，然后笔直地立到写字台前面，去摸抽屉的锁，而出乎他意料之外的，是钥匙竟没有在那儿。但那个划玻璃的是一个心思很周到的人，他带着各种应急的用具。伯爵不久就听到一人串钥匙的声音，就是铜匠老是放在身边准备开各种锁的那种钥匙串，这个玩意儿窃贼们称之为“夜莺”，那无疑是因为开锁的时候它会唱出玎玲当啷的夜曲的缘故。“啊，啊！”基督山带着一个失望的微笑低声说：“他原来只是一个贼！”

但那个人在黑暗里却找不到合适的钥匙。他拿起放茶几上的那样东西，按一按机钮，立刻就有一片仅可辨物的青白色的光反映到那个人的手和脸上。“啊唷！”基督山吃惊地退后一步说，“这是——”

阿里举起他的斧头。

“不要动，”基督山低声说，“放下你的斧头，我们不必用武器。”然后他用更低的声音又说了句话，因为伯爵刚才那声惊呼虽然很轻，却已惊动了那个人，他迅速地翻出窗外，恢复了以前划玻璃时的状态。伯爵刚才所说的话是一个命令：因为阿里立刻无声地走出去，拿回来一件黑色的长袍和一顶三色帽。这当儿，基督山已经急急地脱掉他的外套、背心和衬衫，露出一件闪闪发光的柔软的钢丝背心；这种钢丝背心国王路易十六也曾穿过，只是路易十六并没有因为穿钢丝背心而保全性命，因为他最初只怕有人用匕首刺他的胸口，而结果却是他脑袋上被人砍了一斧头。这件钢丝背心不久就被掩没在一件长大的法衣底下了，他的头发也已被教士的假发所掩盖，再加上那顶三角帽，伯爵就立刻变成了一位神甫。

那个人听不到别的声音，就又耸起身来，当基督山快要化装完毕的时候，他已直趋到写字台前面，写字台上的锁开始在他那夜莺的探试之下格啦格啦地响起来。

“干得好！”伯爵低声说，他无疑很信任锁上的某种秘密机关，相信那个撬锁的人虽然聪明，恐怕也未必能知道他有这种设备——“干得好！你还得有几分钟的工作呢。”于是他走到窗边。坐在矮墙上的那个人已经下去了，依旧在街上走来走去；但真够奇怪，他毫不顾忌从香榭丽舍大道或圣·奥诺路过来的行人。他似乎全神贯注地在想象伯爵屋里的情形；他唯一的目标似乎在思辨更衣室里的每一个动作。

基督山突然拍一拍自己的前额，他的嘴唇上掠过一个微笑，然后把阿里拖到身边，对他耳语说：“留在这儿，躲在黑暗里，不论你听到什么声音，不论发生什么事情，你都不要进来，也不要露面，除非我叫你。”阿里鞠了一躬，表示他已听懂，而且愿意服从。基督山于是从衣柜里拿出一支点燃着的小蜡烛，当那个窃贼正在全神贯注地拨弄他的锁的时候，他静悄悄地推开门，小心不使烛光直接照到他的脸上。那扇门是开得这样静寂，以致那个窃贼竟一点都没有听到声音，但使他惊诧的是：房间里忽然亮起来了。他转过身来。

“晚安，亲爱的卡德鲁斯先生！”基督山说，“你在这个时候到这儿来干什么？”

“布沙尼神甫！”卡德鲁斯惊喊道。他不知道这个怪人是怎么进来的，因为他已经把两扇门都闩住了，他手上的那中钥匙无力地落了下来，他一动不动地站着，惊呆了。伯爵走过去站在卡德鲁斯和窗口之间，这样就切断了窃贼唯一的退路，“布沙尼神甫！”卡德鲁斯又说，用他那呆瞪瞪的眼光盯住伯爵。

“是的，当然罗，正是布沙尼神甫，因为我们自从上次见面以来，至少已有十年左右了。”

布沙尼这种镇定、讽刺和大胆的态度使卡德鲁斯踉跄地倒退了几步。“神甫，神甫！”他喃喃地说，他的两手紧紧握成拳头，牙齿格格地发抖。

“你是要来偷基督山伯爵吗？”假神甫又说。

“神甫阁下，”卡德鲁斯惶恐地说，他想回到窗口那儿去，但窗口已被伯爵无情地挡住，——“神甫阁下，我不知道——

相信我——我向您起誓——”

“玻璃窗划破了一格，”伯爵又说，“一盏夜光灯，一串假钥匙，写字台的抽屉被撬开了一半——这已经是够明显的啦——”

卡德鲁斯急得直喘气，他四面观望，想找一个角落躲进去——找一条路逃走。

“算了，”伯爵继续说，“我看你还是和从前一样——是一个暗杀犯。”

“神甫阁下，既然你一切都知道，你就一定知道那件事不是我干的，而是卡康脱人干的，那已经在法庭上证实过的了，因此我只被判罪到苦工船上去做苦工。”

“那末，既然你已从那儿回来，你大概已经服刑期满了吧？”

“不，神甫阁下，我是被一个人救出来的。”

“那个人倒对社会做了一件很大的功德。”

“啊，”卡德鲁斯说，“我曾答应——”

“而你破坏了你的诺言！”基督山打断他的话说。

“唉，是的！”卡德鲁斯非常不安地说。

“旧病复发！而那种毛病，假如我没有弄错的话，是会把你带到格里维广场［巴黎处决死刑犯的地方。——译注］去的。那就槽了，那就糟了！劣性难改！这是我国的一句俗语。”

“神甫阁下，我是被迫——”

“每一个犯人都是那样说的。”

“因为穷——”

“哼！”布沙尼轻蔑地说，“贫穷可以迫使一个人乞求施舍，或迫使他到一家面包店门口去偷一块面包，但却不会迫使他到有人住的房子里去撬开一张写字台。再说，当珠宝商蒋尼斯向你买我给你的那只钻戒的时候，你刚刚拿到四万五千法郎，便立刻又杀死他，要把钻戒和钱同时到手，那也是为了穷吗？”

“饶了我吧，神甫阁下！”卡德鲁斯说，“你救过我一次命，再救我一次吧！”

“这种话并不十分动听。”

“你只有一个人呢，还是另外有兵埋伏在那儿准备捉我，神甫阁下？”

“我只有一个人，”神甫说，“我可以再可怜你一次，让你逃走，不惜让我自己将来再后悔心肠太软——只要你对我说实话。”

“啊，神甫阁下，”卡德鲁斯紧握着双手喊道，并向基督山挨近来一些，“我的确该说你是我的救主！”

“你说有一个人把你从苦工船上救出来？”

“是的，这是真的，神甫阁下。”

“救你的那个人是谁？”

“一个英国人。”

“他叫什么名字？”

“威玛勋爵。”

“我认识他的，所以我将来可以知道你究竟有没有说谎。”

“神甫阁下，我告诉你的都是实话。”

“那末是这个英国人保护了你？”

“不，不是保护了我，而是保护了一个年轻的科西嘉人——和我拴在一条铁链上的同伴。”

“这个年青的科西嘉人叫什么名字？”

“贝尼代托。”

“那是一个教名。”

“他再没有别的名字了。他是一个弃儿。”

“那么这个青年人和你一同逃走了？”

“是的。”

“怎么逃的？”

“我们在土伦附近的圣·曼德里工厂做工。你是知道那地方的吧？”

“是的，我知道。”

“嗯，在午睡的时间，就是在中午十二点到一点钟之间——”

“苦工船上的奴隶在吃过午饭以后竟还能打一次瞌睡！我们实在应该多可怜可怜那些穷人了！”神甫说。

“不，”卡德鲁斯说，“一个人不能永远做工呀，一个人不是一条狗！”

“还是可怜狗好！”基督山说。

“当其余那些人在睡觉的时候，我们走远一点，用那个英国人给我们的锉刀断我们的脚镣，然后游水逃走。”

“这个贝尼代托后来怎么样了？”

“我不知道。”

“你应该知道。”

“不，真的我们在耶尔就分手了。”为了加重这句话的语气，卡德鲁斯又向神甫走近了一步，神甫一动不动地站在他原来的地方，态度很镇定，目光中带着询问的神色。

“你撒谎！”布沙尼神甫用一种无法抗拒的威严的口吻说。

“神甫阁下！”

“你撒谎！这个人依旧是你的朋友，你或许还在利用他作你的同党。”

“噢，神甫阁下！”

“自从你离开十伦以来，你是靠什么过生活的？回答我！”

“我能得到什么就吃什么。”

“你撒谎！”神甫第三次说这句话，口吻比前更威严了。

卡德鲁斯吓得呆呆地望着伯爵。

“你是靠他给你的钱过活的。”

“是的，不错，”卡德鲁斯说。“贝尼代托已变成一个大贵族的儿子了。”

“他怎么能变成一个大贵族的儿子的呢？”

“他本来就是他的儿子。”

“那个大贵族叫什么名字？”

“基督山伯爵，就是我们现在所在的这座房子的主人翁。”

“贝尼代托是伯爵的儿子！”基督山答道，这次可得轮到他表示惊奇了。

“嗯！我相信是的，因为伯爵给他找了一个假父亲，因为伯爵每月给他四千法郎，并且在他的遗嘱里留给他五十万法郎。”

“哦，哦！”假神甫说，他开始懂得了。“那个青年人目前叫什么名字呢？”

“安德烈·卡瓦尔康蒂。”

“那么，就是我的朋友基督山伯爵曾在家里招待过他，快要和腾格拉尔小姐结婚的那个青年人了？”

“一点不错。”

“你这个混蛋！——你，你知道他过去那种可耻的生活，你竟隐忍不言吗？”

“我何必要拦阻一个伙伴的好事呢？”卡德鲁斯说。

“你说得对，应该去通知腾格拉尔先生的不是你，而是我。”

“别那么做，神甫阁下。”

“为什么不？”

“因为你会把我们两个都弄垮的。”

“而你以为，为了救你们这样的恶棍，我竟能纵容你们的阴谋——做你们的帮凶吗？”

“神甫阁下。”卡德鲁斯说，又挨近来一些。

“我要把一切都揭露出来。”

“向谁揭露？”

“腾格拉尔先生。”

“天哪！”卡德鲁斯一面喊，一面从他的背心里拔出一把张开的小刀，向伯爵的胸口刺去，“你什么都揭露不了啦，神甫阁下。”

使卡德鲁斯万分惊奇的是：那把小刀非但没有刺进伯爵的胸口，而且反而折断刀锋倒弹了回来。这当儿，伯爵用他的左手抓住那暗杀者的手腕，用力一扭，那把小刀就从他那僵硬的手指间掉了下来。卡德鲁斯发出一声痛苦的喊叫，但伯爵不管他怎么叫，继续扭那匪徒的手腕，直到他的手臂脱节，跪下来，又仰跌到地板上。伯爵于是用一只脚踏住他的头，说：“我不知道究竟是什么力量阻止我不踏破你的脑袋，你这混蛋！”

“啊，发发慈悲吧，发发慈悲吧！”卡德鲁斯喊道。

伯爵收回他的脚。“起来！”他说。

卡德鲁斯爬起身来。“噢，你的腕力多大呀，神甫阁下！”他说，一面拍打着他那条被那肉钳得青紫斑斑的手臂——“多大的腕力呀！”

“住口！上帝给我力量来制服象你这样的野兽。我是在代上帝行道——记住吧，畜生！我现在饶赦你，还是为了他。”

“噢！”卡德鲁斯痛苦地呻吟着说。

“拿了这支笔和这张纸，我讲你写。”

“我不会写字，神甫阁下。”

“你撒谎！快拿了这支笔，写！”

卡德鲁斯慑于神甫的威严，坐下来写道：“先生——现在蒙你优礼接待，并且快要和令媛结婚的那个人，是和我一同从土伦苦工船里逃出来的重犯，他是五十九号，我是五十八号。他名叫贝尼代托，但他却不知道他的真姓名，因为他始终不知道他的父母是谁。”

“签名！”伯爵继续说。

“你这不是要断送我的性命吗？”

“傻瓜，假如我要断送你的性命，我就会把你拖到最近的警察局去。而且，这封信一发出去，你多半就可以不再有所恐惧了。所以，签名吧！”

卡德鲁斯签了名。

“地址是，‘安顿大马路，腾格拉尔男爵府，腾格拉尔先生。’”

卡德鲁斯写上地址。神甫接过那张信笺。”现在，”他说，“够了，去吧！”

“走哪一条路出去？”

“你来时的那条路。”

“你要我从那个窗口出去吗？”

“你进来的时候就很方便呀。”

“噢！你已经想定一个打击我的计划了吧，神甫阁下。”

“呆子！我能有什么计划？”

“那末，为什么不让我从大门出去呢？”

“吵醒门房有什么好处？”

“神甫阁下，告诉我，你不希望我死吧？”

“我以上帝的意志作我的希望。”

“但你发一个誓，决不在我下去的时候打我。”

“懦怯的傻瓜！”

“预备拿我怎么样？”

“我问你我能拿你怎么样？我曾尝试想把你造成一个快乐的人，而我却把你造成了一个暗杀者。”

“神甫阁下，”卡德鲁斯说，’再来尝试一次，再试我一试吧！”

“可以的，”伯爵说。“听着！你知道我是一个克守诺言的人？”

“是的。”卡德鲁斯说。

“假如你平平安安地回到了家里——”

“除了你以外，我还怕什么呢？”

“假如你平平安安地回到了家里，就离开巴黎，离开法国，不论你在什么地方，只要你规规矩矩地做人，我就会派人送你一笔小小的养老金——因为假如你平平安安地回到了家里，那么——”

“那么？”卡德鲁斯打了一个寒颤。

“那么我就相信上帝已宽恕你，而我也可以宽恕你了。”

“说老实话，”卡德鲁斯结结巴巴地说，“你简直要吓死我啦！”

“快去吧！”伯爵指着窗口说。

卡德鲁斯虽然得了这一番保证，却依旧并不十分放心，他两腿跨出窗外，站在梯子上。

“快下去，”神甫交叉着两臂说。卡德鲁斯知道不必再怕他了，就开始下去。于是伯爵把那支小蜡烛移到窗前，使香榭丽舍大道上可以看到有一个人在从窗口里翻出来，一个人则拿着一支蜡烛给他照亮。

“你这是干什么，神甫阁下？要是有巡警经过可怎么好呢？”于是他吹熄蜡烛，然后下去；直到他的脚踏到地面的时候他才放心了。

基督山回到他的寝室里，急速地从花园望到街道；他先看卡德罗斯走到花园的墙脚下，把他的梯子靠在墙是，靠梯子的地点和进来的时候不同。然后伯爵向街上望去，看见那个似乎在等待的人向同一的方向奔过来，躲在卡德鲁斯就要翻出去的那个墙角里。卡德鲁斯慢慢地爬上梯子，从墙头上望出去，看街道是否静寂。他看不见人，也听不到人声。残废军人疗养院的时钟敲了一下。于是卡德鲁斯骑在墙头上，把梯子抽起来，把它靠在墙外；然后他开始下去，或说得更准确些，是跨着梯子的两条直柱滑下去，这个动作他做得很安闲自在，证明他是多么的练习有素。但一开始滑下去，他就无法中途停止了。虽然他在滑到一半的时候看见有一个人从阴影里出来，却也毫无办法；虽然他在滑到下面的时候看见有一条手臂举起来，却也毫无办法。在他还无法保卫自己以前，那条手臂就已非常猛烈地打击到他的背上，他放开梯子，喊出一声“救命哪！杀人呀！”当他这样在地上滚来滚去的时候，他的对手抓住他的头发，在他的胸部又刺了一刀。这一次，卡德鲁斯虽然竭力想叫喊，但他却只能发出一声呻吟；鲜血从他的三处伤口里津津地流出来，他全身不由自主地打着寒颤。凶手看到他已不能叫喊，就拉住他的头发，扳起他的头；他双眼紧闭，嘴巴歪在一边。凶手以为他已经死了，就放开他的头，溜走了。卡德鲁斯觉得凶手已经离开，就用手肘撑起身体，以一种垂死的声音竭力大喊：’杀人啦！我要死啦！救命呀，神甫阁上！救命呀！”

这种凄惨的呼吁刺破了黑暗。通后楼梯的门开了，接着，花园的侧门也开了；阿里和他的主人拿着蜡烛来到出事的地点。

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