"FIRST, SIR," said Caderousse, "you must make me a promise."

"What is that?" inquired the abbé.

"Why, if you ever make use of the details I am about to give you, that you will never let any one know that it was I who supplied them; for the persons of whom I am about to talk are rich and powerful, and if they only laid the tips of their fingers on me, I should break to pieces like glass."

"Make yourself easy, my friend," replied the abbé. "I am a priest, and confessions die in my breast. Recollect, our only desire is to carry out, in a fitting manner, the last wishes of our friend. Speak, then, without reserve, as without hatred; tell the truth, the whole truth; I do not know, never may know, the persons of whom you are about to speak; besides, I am an Italian, and not a Frenchman, and belong to God, and not to man, and I shall shortly retire to my convent, which I have only quitted to fulfil the last wishes of a dying man." This positive assurance seemed to give Caderousse a little courage.

"Well, then, under these circumstances," said Caderousse, "I will, I even believe I ought to undeceive you as to the friendship which poor Edmond thought so sincere and unquestionable."

"Begin with his father, if you please." said the abbé; "Edmond talked to me a great deal about the old man for whom he had the deepest love."

"The history is a sad one, sir," said Caderousse, shaking his head; "perhaps you know all the earlier part of it?"

"Yes." answered the abbé; "Edmond related to me everything until the moment when he was arrested in a small cabaret close to Marseilles."

"At La Rèserve! Oh, yes; I can see it all before me this moment."

"Was it not his betrothal feast?"

"It was and the feast that began so gayly had a very sorrowful ending; a police commissary, followed by four soldiers, entered, and Dantès was arrested."

"Yes, and up to this point I know all," said the priest. "Dantès himself only knew that which personally concerned him, for he never beheld again the five persons I have named to you, or heard mention of any one of them."

"Well, when Dantès was arrested, Monsieur Morrel hastened to obtain the particulars, and they were very sad. The old man returned alone to his home, folded up his wedding suit with tears in his eyes, and paced up and down his chamber the whole day, and would not go to bed at all, for I was underneath him and heard him walking the whole night; and for myself, I assure you I could not sleep either, for the grief of the poor father gave me great uneasiness, and every step he took went to my heart as really as if his foot had pressed against my breast. The next day Mercédès came to implore the protection of M. de Villefort; she did not obtain it, however, and went to visit the old man; when she saw him so miserable and heart-broken, having passed a sleepless night, and not touched food since the previous day, she wished him to go with her that she might take care of him; but the old man would not consent. 'No,' was the old man's reply, 'I will not leave this house, for my poor dear boy loves me better than anything in the world; and if he gets out of prison he will come and see me the first thing, and what would he think if I did not wait here for him?' I heard all this from the window, for I was anxious that Mercédès should persuade the old man to accompany her, for his footsteps over my head night and day did not leave me a moment's repose."

"But did you not go up-stairs and try to console the poor old man?" asked the abbé.

"Ah, sir," replied Caderousse, "we cannot console those who will not be consoled, and he was one of these; besides, I know not why, but he seemed to dislike seeing me. One night, however, I heard his sobs, and I could not resist my desire to go up to him, but when I reached his door he was no longer weeping but praying. I cannot now repeat to you, sir, all the eloquent words and imploring language he made use of; it was more than piety, it was more than grief, and I, who am no canter, and hate the Jesuits, said then to myself, 'It is really well, and I am very glad that I have not any children; for if I were a father and felt such excessive grief as the old man does, and did not find in my memory or heart all he is now saying, I should throw myself into the sea at once, for I could not bear it.'"

"Poor father!" murmured the priest.

"From day to day he lived on alone, and more and more solitary. M. Morrel and Mercédès came to see him, but his door was closed; and, although I was certain he was at home, he would not make any answer. One day, when, contrary to his custom, he had admitted Mercédès, and the poor girl, in spite of her own grief and despair, endeavored to console him, he said to her,--'Be assured, my dear daughter, he is dead; and instead of expecting him, it is he who is awaiting us; I am quite happy, for I am the oldest, and of course shall see him first.' However well disposed a person may be, why you see we leave off after a time seeing persons who are in sorrow, they make one melancholy; and so at last old Dantès was left all to himself, and I only saw from time to time strangers go up to him and come down again with some bundle they tried to hide; but I guessed what these bundles were, and that he sold by degrees what he had to pay for his subsistence. At length the poor old fellow reached the end of all he had; he owed three quarters' rent, and they threatened to turn him out; he begged for another week, which was granted to him. I know this, because the landlord came into my apartment when he left his. For the first three days I heard him walking about as usual, but, on the fourth I heard nothing. I then resolved to go up to him at all risks. The door was closed, but I looked through the keyhole, and saw him so pale and haggard, that believing him very ill, I went and told M. Morrel and then ran on to Mercédès. They both came immediately, M. Morrel bringing a doctor, and the doctor said it was inflammation of the bowels, and ordered him a limited diet. I was there, too, and I never shall forget the old man's smile at this prescription. From that time he received all who came; he had an excuse for not eating any more; the doctor had put him on a diet." The abbé uttered a kind of groan. "The story interests you, does it not, sir?" inquired Caderousse.

"Yes," replied the abbé, "it is very affecting."

"Mercédès came again, and she found him so altered that she was even more anxious than before to have him taken to her own home. This was M. Morrel's wish also, who would fain have conveyed the old man against his consent; but the old man resisted, and cried so that they were actually frightened. Mercédès remained, therefore, by his bedside, and M. Morrel went away, making a sign to the Catalan that he had left his purse on the chimney-piece. But availing himself of the doctor's order, the old man would not take any sustenance; at length (after nine days of despair and fasting), the old man died, cursing those who had caused his misery, and saying to Mercédès, 'If you ever see my Edmond again, tell him I die blessing him.'" The abbé rose from his chair, made two turns round the chamber, and pressed his trembling hand against his parched throat. "And you believe he died"--

"Of hunger, sir, of hunger," said Caderousse. "I am as certain of it as that we two are Christians."

The abbé, with a shaking hand, seized a glass of water that was standing by him half-full, swallowed it at one gulp, and then resumed his seat, with red eyes and pale cheeks. "This was, indeed, a horrid event." said he in a hoarse voice.

"The more so, sir, as it was men's and not God's doing."

"Tell me of those men," said the abbé, "and remember too," he added in an almost menacing tone, "you have promised to tell me everything. Tell me, therefore, who are these men who killed the son with despair, and the father with famine?"

"Two men jealous of him, sir; one from love, and the other from ambition,--Fernand and Danglars."

"How was this jealousy manifested? Speak on."

"They denounced Edmond as a Bonapartist agent."

"Which of the two denounced him? Which was the real delinquent?"

"Both, sir; one with a letter, and the other put it in the post."

"And where was this letter written?"

"At La Rèserve, the day before the betrothal feast."

"'Twas so, then--'twas so, then," murmured the abbé. "Oh, Faria, Faria, how well did you judge men and things!"

"What did you please to say, sir?" asked Caderousse.

"Nothing, nothing," replied the priest; "go on."

"It was Danglars who wrote the denunciation with his left hand, that his writing might not be recognized, and Fernand who put it in the post."

"But," exclaimed the abbé suddenly, "you were there yourself."

"I!" said Caderousse, astonished; "who told you I was there?"

The abbé saw he had overshot the mark, and he added quickly,--"No one; but in order to have known everything so well, you must have been an eye-witness."

"True, true!" said Caderousse in a choking voice, "I was there."

"And did you not remonstrate against such infamy?" asked the abbé; "if not, you were an accomplice."

"Sir," replied Caderousse, "they had made me drink to such an excess that I nearly lost all perception. I had only an indistinct understanding of what was passing around me. I said all that a man in such a state could say; but they both assured me that it was a jest they were carrying on, and perfectly harmless."

"Next day--next day, sir, you must have seen plain enough what they had been doing, yet you said nothing, though you were present when Dantès was arrested."

"Yes, sir, I was there, and very anxious to speak; but Danglars restrained me. 'If he should really be guilty,' said he, 'and did really put in to the Island of Elba; if he is really charged with a letter for the Bonapartist committee at Paris, and if they find this letter upon him, those who have supported him will pass for his accomplices.' I confess I had my fears, in the state in which politics then were, and I held my tongue. It was cowardly, I confess, but it was not criminal."

"I understand--you allowed matters to take their course, that was all."

"Yes, sir," answered Caderousse; "and remorse preys on me night and day. I often ask pardon of God, I swear to you, because this action, the only one with which I have seriously to reproach myself in all my life, is no doubt the cause of my abject condition. I am expiating a moment of selfishness, and so I always say to La Carconte, when she complains, 'Hold your tongue, woman; it is the will of God.'" And Caderousse bowed his head with every sign of real repentance.

"Well, sir," said the abbé, "you have spoken unreservedly; and thus to accuse yourself is to deserve pardon."

"Unfortunately, Edmond is dead, and has not pardoned me."

"He did not know," said the abbé.

"But he knows it all now," interrupted Caderousse; "they say the dead know everything." There was a brief silence; the abbé rose and paced up and down pensively, and then resumed his seat. "You have two or three times mentioned a M. Morrel," he said; "who was he?"

"The owner of the Pharaon and patron of Dantès."

"And what part did he play in this sad drama?" inquired the abbé.

"The part of an honest man, full of courage and real regard. Twenty times he interceded for Edmond. When the emperor returned, he wrote, implored, threatened, and so energetically, that on the second restoration he was persecuted as a Bonapartist. Ten times, as I told you, he came to see Dantès' father, and offered to receive him in his own house; and the night or two before his death, as I have already said, he left his purse on the mantelpiece, with which they paid the old man's debts, and buried him decently; and so Edmond's father died, as he had lived, without doing harm to any one. I have the purse still by me--a large one, made of red silk."

"And," asked the abbé, "is M. Morrel still alive?"

"Yes," replied Caderousse.

"In that case," replied the abbé, "he should be rich, happy."

Caderousse smiled bitterly. "Yes, happy as myself," said he.

"What! M. Morrel unhappy?" exclaimed the abbé.

"He is reduced almost to the last extremity--nay, he is almost at the point of dishonor."

"How?"

"Yes," continued Caderousse, "so it is; after five and twenty years of labor, after having acquired a most honorable name in the trade of Marseilles, M. Morrel is utterly ruined; he has lost five ships in two years, has suffered by the bankruptcy of three large houses, and his only hope now is in that very Pharaon which poor Dantès commanded, and which is expected from the Indies with a cargo of cochineal and indigo. If this ship founders, like the others, he is a ruined man."

"And has the unfortunate man wife or children?" inquired the abbé.

"Yes, he has a wife, who through everything has behaved like an angel; he has a daughter, who was about to marry the man she loved, but whose family now will not allow him to wed the daughter of a ruined man; he has, besides, a son, a lieutenant in the army; and, as you may suppose, all this, instead of lessening, only augments his sorrows. If he were alone in the world he would blow out his brains, and there would be an end."

"Horrible!" ejaculated the priest.

"And it is thus heaven recompenses virtue, sir," added Caderousse. "You see, I, who never did a bad action but that I have told you of--am in destitution, with my poor wife dying of fever before my very eyes, and I unable to do anything in the world for her; I shall die of hunger, as old Dantès did, while Fernand and Danglars are rolling in wealth."

"How is that?"

"Because their deeds have brought them good fortune, while honest men have been reduced to misery."

"What has become of Danglars, the instigator, and therefore the most guilty?"

"What has become of him? Why, he left Marseilles, and was taken, on the recommendation of M. Morrel, who did not know his crime, as cashier into a Spanish bank. During the war with Spain he was employed in the commissariat of the French army, and made a fortune; then with that money he speculated in the funds, and trebled or quadrupled his capital; and, having first married his banker's daughter, who left him a widower, he has married a second time, a widow, a Madame de Nargonne, daughter of M. de Servieux, the king's chamberlain, who is in high favor at court. He is a millionaire, and they have made him a baron, and now he is the Baron Danglars, with a fine residence in the Rue de Mont-Blanc, with ten horses in his stables, six footmen in his ante-chamber, and I know not how many millions in his strongbox."

"Ah!" said the abbé, in a peculiar tone, "he is happy."

"Happy? Who can answer for that? Happiness or unhappiness is the secret known but to one's self and the walls--walls have ears but no tongue; but if a large fortune produces happiness, Danglars is happy."

"And Fernand?"

"Fernand? Why, much the same story."

"But how could a poor Catalan fisher-boy, without education or resources, make a fortune? I confess this staggers me."

"And it has staggered everybody. There must have been in his life some strange secret that no one knows."

"But, then, by what visible steps has he attained this high fortune or high position?"

"Both, sir--he has both fortune and position--both."

"This must be impossible!"

"It would seem so; but listen, and you will understand. Some days before the return of the emperor, Fernand was drafted. The Bourbons left him quietly enough at the Catalans, but Napoleon returned, a special levy was made, and Fernand was compelled to join. I went too; but as I was older than Fernand, and had just married my poor wife, I was only sent to the coast. Fernand was enrolled in the active troop, went to the frontier with his regiment, and was at the battle of Ligny. The night after that battle he was sentry at the door of a general who carried on a secret correspondence with the enemy. That same night the general was to go over to the English. He proposed to Fernand to accompany him; Fernand agreed to do so, deserted his post, and followed the general. Fernand would have been court-martialed if Napoleon had remained on the throne, but his action was rewarded by the Bourbons. He returned to France with the epaulet of sub-lieutenant, and as the protection of the general, who is in the highest favor, was accorded to him, he was a captain in 1823, during the Spanish war--that is to say, at the time when Danglars made his early speculations. Fernand was a Spaniard, and being sent to Spain to ascertain the feeling of his fellow-countrymen, found Danglars there, got on very intimate terms with him, won over the support of the royalists at the capital and in the provinces, received promises and made pledges on his own part, guided his regiment by paths known to himself alone through the mountain gorges which were held by the royalists, and, in fact, rendered such services in this brief campaign that, after the taking of Trocadero, he was made colonel, and received the title of count and the cross of an officer of the Legion of Honor."

"Destiny! destiny!" murmured the abbé.

"Yes, but listen: this was not all. The war with Spain being ended, Fernand's career was checked by the long peace which seemed likely to endure throughout Europe. Greece only had risen against Turkey, and had begun her war of independence; all eyes were turned towards Athens--it was the fashion to pity and support the Greeks. The French government, without protecting them openly, as you know, gave countenance to volunteer assistance. Fernand sought and obtained 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 abbé.

"So that now," continued Caderousse, "he owns a magnificent house--No. 27, Rue du Helder, Paris." The abbé opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then, making an effort at self-control, he said, "And Mercédès--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 abbé, with an ironical smile.

"Mercédès is at this moment one of the greatest ladies in Paris," replied Caderousse.

"Go on," said the abbé; "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."

"Mercédès 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 Dantès. 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 Mercédès 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. Mercédès 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 Mercédès' heart; that other was absent, had disappeared, perhaps was dead. At this last thought Mercédès 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 Dantès 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, Mercédès, 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 Mercédès; at the second he reminded her that he loved her. Mercédès begged for six months more in which to await and mourn for Edmond."

"So that," said the abbé, 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, Mercédès was married," proceeded Caderousse; "but although in the eyes of the world she appeared calm, she nearly fainted as she passed La Rèserve, 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 Mercédès 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 abbé started. "Her son?" said he.

"Yes," replied Caderousse, "little Albert."

"But, then, to be able to instruct her child," continued the abbé, "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? Mercédès 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 abbé.

"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 Mercédès, who at once shut the blind."

"And M. de Villefort?" asked the abbé.

"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-Méran, 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 abbé; "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 abbé 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 abbé smiled. "In exchange," he continued, "give me the red silk purse that M. Morrel left on old Dantès' chimney-piece, and which you tell me is still in your hands." Caderousse, more and more astonished, went toward a large oaken cupboard, opened it, and gave the abbé a long purse of faded red silk, round which were two copper runners that had once been gilt. The abbé took it, and in return gave Caderousse the diamond.

"Oh, you are a man of God, sir," cried Caderousse; "for no one knew that Edmond had given you this diamond, and you might have kept it."

"Which," said the abbé to himself, "you would have done." The abbé rose, took his hat and gloves. "Well," he said, "all you have told me is perfectly true, then, and I may believe it in every particular."

"See, sir," replied Caderousse, "in this corner is a crucifix in holy wood--here on this shelf is my wife's testament; open this book, and I will swear upon it with my hand on the crucifix. I will swear to you by my soul's salvation, my faith as a Christian, I have told everything to you as it occurred, and as the recording angel will tell it to the ear of God at the day of the last judgment!"

"'Tis well," said the abbé, convinced by his manner and tone that Caderousse spoke the truth. "'Tis well, and may this money profit you! Adieu; I go far from men who thus so bitterly injure each other." The abbé with difficulty got away from the enthusiastic thanks of Caderousse, opened the door himself, got out and mounted his horse, once more saluted the innkeeper, who kept uttering his loud farewells, and then returned by the road he had travelled in coming. When Caderousse turned around, he saw behind him La Carconte, paler and trembling more than ever. "Is, then, all that I have heard really true?" she inquired.

"What? That he has given the diamond to us only?" inquired Caderousse, half bewildered with joy; "yes, nothing more true! See, here it is." The woman gazed at it a moment, and then said, in a gloomy voice, "Suppose it's false?" Caderousse started and turned pale. "False!" he muttered. "False! Why should that man give me a false diamond?"

"To get your secret without paying for it, you blockhead!"

Caderousse remained for a moment aghast under the weight of such an idea. "Oh!" he said, taking up his hat, which he placed on the red handkerchief tied round his head, "we will soon find out."

"In what way?"

"Why, the fair is on at Beaucaire, there are always jewellers from Paris there, and I will show it to them. Look after the house, wife, and I shall be back in two hours," and Caderousse left the house in haste, and ran rapidly in the direction opposite to that which the priest had taken. "Fifty thousand francs!" muttered La Carconte when left alone; "it is a large sum of money, but it is not a fortune."

“首先，”卡德鲁斯说，“先生，我必须请求您答应我一件事。”

“什么事？”教士问道。

“就是我将把详细情形讲给您听，如果您将来有利用到它的时候，您可决不能让任何人知道，是我讲出来的。因为我讲到的那些人，都有钱有势，他们只要在我身上动一根手指头，我就会粉身碎骨的。”

“您放心好了，我的朋友，”教士答道。“我是一个教士，人们的忏悔永远只藏在我的心里。请记住，我们唯一的目的是适当地去执行我们朋友的最后的愿望。所以，说吧，别保留什么，也别意气用事，把真相讲出来，全部的真相。我不认识，也许永远不会认识您将要说到的那些人。而且，我是一个意大利人，不是法国人，是只属于上帝而不属于凡人的，我就要退隐到我的修道院里去了，我此次来只是为了来实现一个人临终时的愿望而已。”

这最后的保证似乎使卡德鲁斯放心了一些。“好吧，既然如此，”他说，“我就老实对您说吧，我必须坦白地告诉您，那可怜的爱德蒙所深信不疑的友谊是怎么一回事。”

“请您从他的父亲讲起吧，”教士说，“爱德蒙曾对我讲起许多有关那位老人的事，他是他最爱的人了。”

“这件事说来令人伤心，先生，”卡德鲁斯摇摇头说，“前面的事大概您都已经知道了吧？”

“是的，教士回答说，”直至他在马赛附近的一家酒馆里被捕时为止，这以前的一切，爱德蒙都已经讲给我听过了。

“在瑞瑟夫酒家！噢，是的！那过去一切现在犹如在我的眼前一样。”

“那次不是他的订婚喜宴吗？”

“是呀，那次喜宴刚开始是那么令人高兴，但结果却是极其令人悲伤：一位警长，带着四个拿枪的走进来，唐太斯就被捕了。”

“对，到这一点为止我都知道了，”教士说。“唐太斯本人除了他自己的遭遇外，其它一无所知，我跟您说过的那五个人，他后来再也没有见到他们，也不曾听人提起过他们。”

“唐太斯被捕以后，莫雷尔先生就赶紧去打听消息，消息糟透了。老人独自回到家里，含着眼泪叠起他那套参加婚礼的衣服，整天地在他的房间里踱来踱去，晚上也不睡觉，我就住在他的下面，所以听到他整夜地走来走去。我也睡不着，因为那位可怜的老父亲的悲哀使我非常不安，他的脚步声每一声都传到了我的心里，就象是他的脚踏在了我的心上一样。第二天，美塞苔丝到马赛去恳求维尔福先生给予保护，结果是一无所获。于是她去看望老人。当她看到他那么伤心，那么心碎，而且知道了他从头一天起就没合过眼，吃过东西的时候，她就想请他和她一起回去，以便可以照顾他，但老人不同意。‘不’他这样回答，‘我决不离开这间屋子，我那可怜的孩子爱我胜过世界上的一切，假如他一旦出狱，他肯定首先来看我，要是我不在这儿等他，他会怎么想呢？’这些话我都是透过窗子听来的，因为我也非常希望美茜蒂丝能劝动老人跟她走，他在我头上老是走来走去的，日夜都不让我有一刻的安宁。”

“难道您没上楼去设法劝慰一下那可怜的老人吗？”教士问道。

“啊，先生，”卡德鲁斯答道，“那些不听劝慰的人，我们是无法劝慰他们的，他就是那种人，而且，我也不清楚为什么，他好象不大高兴看见我。可是，有一天夜里，我听到他在那儿哭泣，我再也忍不住了想上去看看他，但当我走到他门口的时候，他不哭了，在那儿祈祷了。先生，我现在无法向您复述他说的那些催人泪下的祈求的话。那简直不是虔诚或悲哀这几个字。我，我不是假虔诚的教徒，我也不喜欢那些伪教徒，我当时对自己说：‘幸亏只是孤身一个人，幸亏善良的上帝没给我儿女，假如我做了父亲，假如我也象这位可怜的老人那样遭遇到了这种伤心的事，我的记忆里或我的心里可找不到他对上帝所说的那些话，我所能做的是立刻跳进海里来逃避我的悲哀。’”

“可怜的父亲！”教士轻声地说。

“他一天天地独自生活着，愈来愈孤独。莫雷尔先生和美塞苔丝常来看他，但他的门总是关着的，虽然我确信他的确在家，但他就是不开门。有一天，他一反常态，竟让美塞苔丝进去了，那可怜的姑娘顾不上她自己的悲伤，竭力劝慰他。他对她说：‘相信我的话吧，我亲爱的女儿，他已经死了，现在不是我们在等他，而是他在等我们。我很快乐，因为我年纪最老，当然可以最先见到他。’再善良的人，也不会老去看那些让人见了就伤心的人。所以老唐太斯最后只剩孤零零的一个人了。不过我时常看到有陌生人到他那儿去，下来的时候，总是遮遮掩掩地挟着一包东西。我能猜到这些包里是什么。他是在一点点地卖掉他所有的东西，以便弄些钱来买吃的东西。最后那可怜的老头终于山穷水尽了。他欠下了三个季度的房租，房东威胁要赶他出去。他便恳求再宽限一个星期，房东同意了。我知道这件事，因为房东离开他的房间以后就到我的房间里来了。

最初的三天，我听到他还是照常地来回踱步，到了第四天，我再也听不到他的声音了。于是我决心不顾一切地到他那儿去。

门是紧闭着的，我从钥匙孔里望进去，看到他脸色苍白憔悴似乎已病得很重了。我就去告诉了莫雷尔先生，然后又跑到了美塞苔丝那儿。他们两个人立刻就来了，莫雷尔先生还带来了一个医生，医生说是肠胃炎，要他适当地禁食。当时我也在场，我永远忘不了老人在听到这个禁食的时候脸上露出的那个微笑。从那时起，他把门打开了。他这时已有借口可以不再多吃东西，因为是医生嘱咐要他这么做的。”

教士发出了一声呻吟。

“这个故事您很感兴趣，是吗，先生？”卡德鲁斯问道。

“是的，”教士答道，“非常动人。”

“美塞苔丝又来了一次，她发觉他已大大地变样了，因此就比以前更急切地希望能把他带到她自己住的地方去。莫雷尔先生也是这个想法，他很想不顾老人的反对，硬送他去，但老人就是不肯，并且嚎啕大哭起来，于是他们便不敢再坚持了。美塞苔丝就留在他的床边，莫雷尔先生只好走了，走的时候，向她示意他已把钱袋留在了壁炉架上。但老人借口遵从医生的吩咐，不肯吃任何东西。终于绝望和绝食了九天以后，死了，临死的时候他诅咒着那些使他陷于这种悲惨境地的人，并对美塞苔丝说，‘如果你能再看到我的爱德蒙，告诉他我临死还在为他祝福。’”

教士离开椅子，站起来在房间里转了两圈，用颤抖的手紧压着他那干焦的喉咙。“您相信他是死于——”

“饥饿，先生，是饿死的，”卡德鲁斯说。“这一点我敢肯定，就象肯定我们两个人是基督徒一样。”

教士用一只发抖的手拿起了他身边一只半满的水杯，一口喝了下去，然后又回到了他的座位上，眼睛发红，脸色苍白，“这事实在太可怕了。”他用一种嘶哑的声音说。

“更可怕的是，先生，这是人为而并非天意。”

“把那些人告诉我，”教士说道，“要知道，”他用一种近乎威胁的口气继续说，“您曾答应过把一切事情都告诉我的。那么告诉我，用绝望杀死了儿子，用饥饿杀死了父亲的这些人究竟是谁？”

“嫉妒他的两个人，先生，一个是为了爱，另外一个是由于野心，是弗尔南多和腾格拉尔。”

“告诉我，这种嫉妒心是怎样表现出来的？”

“他们去告密，说爱德蒙是一个拿破仑党分子。”

“两人之中是哪一个去告密的？真正有罪的是哪一个？”

“两者都是，先生，一个写信，另一个去投入邮筒。”

“那封信是在哪儿写的？”

“在瑞瑟夫酒家，就在吃喜酒的前一天。”

“果然如此，果然如此，”教士轻声自语道。“噢，法利亚，法利亚！你对于人和事判断得多么准确呀！”

“您在说什么，先生？”卡德鲁斯问。

“没什么，没什么，”教士答道，“说下去吧。”

“写告密信的是腾格拉尔，他是用左手写的，那样，他的笔迹就不会被认出来了，把它投入邮筒的是弗尔南多。”

“这么说来，”教士突然喊道，“你自己当时也在场了？”

教士意识到自己有点急躁了，就赶快接着说：“谁也没有告诉我，但既然您一切都知道得这样清楚，您一定是个见证人罗。”

“不错，不错！”卡德鲁斯用一种哽咽的声音说，“我是在场。”

“您没办法阻止这种无耻的行为吗？”教士问，“要不，您也是一个同谋犯。”

“先生，”卡德鲁斯答道，“他们灌得我酩酊大醉，以致我的一切知觉几乎都丧失了。我对于周围所发生的事只模模糊糊地知道一些。凡是在那种状态之下的人所能说的话我都说了，但他们再三向我表示，说他们只是开个玩笑而已，完全没有恶意。”

“第二天呢，先生，第二天，他们所做的事您一定看得很清楚，可是您却什么也没说，唐太斯被捕的时候您不是也在场吗？”

“是的，先生，我在场，而且很想讲出来，但腾格拉尔拦住了我。’‘假如他真的有罪，’他说，‘真的在厄尔巴岛上过岸，假如他真的负责带了一封信给巴黎的拿破仑党委员会，假如他们真的在他身上搜到了这封信，那么那些帮他说话的人就将被视为是他的同谋，’我很害怕，当时的政治状况充满着隐伏的危险，所以我就闭口不讲了。这是懦怯的行为，我承认，但并不是存心犯罪。”

“我懂了，您是听之任之，事实如此而已。”

“是的，先生，”卡德鲁斯回答道，“每当我想起这件事，就日夜悔恨。我常常祈求上帝饶恕我，我向您发誓，我这样祈祷还有另一个理由，那就是我相信，我现在这样穷苦就是做了这件事的报应。这是我一生中惟一的一件深感自责的事情。我现在就是在为那一时的自私赎罪，所以每当卡尔贡特娘们抱怨的时候，我总是对她说，‘别说了，娘们！这是上帝的意志。’”卡德鲁斯低垂着头，表示出真心忏悔的样子。

“嘿，先生，”教士说道，“你讲得很坦白，您这样自我遣责是会得到宽恕的。”

“不幸的是，爱德蒙已经死了，他并没有宽恕我。”

“他并不知这回事呀。”教士说道。

“但是他现在知道了，”卡德鲁斯急忙说，“人们说，死人是一切都知道的。”

房间里暂时沉默了一会儿。教士站起身来，神态肃然地踱了一圈，然后又在他的原位上坐了下来。“您曾两次提到一位莫雷尔先生，他是谁？”

“法老号的船主，唐太斯的雇主。”

“他在这个悲剧里扮演了怎样的一个角色？”教士问。

“扮演了一位忠厚的长者，既勇敢，又热情。他曾不下二十次去为爱德蒙说情。当皇帝复位之后，他曾写信，请愿，力争，为他出了不少力，以致在王朝第二次复辟的时候，他几乎被人当作了拿破仑党分子而受到迫害。我已经告诉过您，他曾十多次来看望唐太斯的父亲，并提议把他接到他家里去。那天晚上，就是老唐太斯去世前的一两天，我已经说过，他还把他的钱袋留在壁炉架上，多亏了这零钱人们才能替老人偿清了债务，并象样地埋葬了他。所以爱德蒙的父亲死时和他活着的时候一样，没有使任何人受害。那只钱袋现在还在我这儿，是一只很大的红色的丝带织成的。”

“哦，”教士问题，“莫雷尔先生还活着吗？”

“活着。”卡德鲁斯回答。

“既然那样，教士回答说，”他应该得到上帝的保佑，该很有钱吗，很快乐罗？”卡德鲁斯苦笑了一下。“是的，很快乐，象我一样。”

“什么，难道莫雷尔先生不快乐吗？”教士大声说道。

“他几乎已到了山穷水尽的地步了，不，他几乎已快名誉扫地了。”

“怎么会糟到这种境地呢？”

“是的，”卡德鲁斯继续说道，“是糟到了那种境地。苦干了二十一年，他在观赛商界获得了一个体面的地位，现在他却彻底完了。他在两年之中丧失了五条船，吃了三家大商行破产的倒帐，他现在惟一的希望就是那艘可怜的唐太斯曾指挥过的法老号了，希望那艘船能从印度带着洋红和靛青回来。假若这艘船也象其他那几艘一样沉没了的话。他就完全破产了。”

“这个不幸的人有妻子儿女吗？”教士问道。

“有的，他有一位太太，在这种种的不幸的打击下，她表现得象个圣人一样。他还有一个女儿，快要和她所爱的人结婚了，但那人的家庭现在不许他娶一个破产人家的女儿。此外，他还有一个儿子，在陆军里是名中尉。您可以想象得到，这一切，非但不能安慰他，反而更增加了他的痛苦。假如他在世界上只单身一人，他可以一枪把自己结束掉，那倒也一了百了。”

“太可怕了！”教士不禁失声悲叹道。

“老天就是这样来报答有德之人的，先生，”卡德鲁斯接着说。“您瞧我，我除了刚才告诉您的那件事以外，从没做过一件坏事，可是我却穷困不堪，非但眼看着我那可怜的老婆终日发高烧奄奄一息，毫无办法可以救她，就是我自己也会象老唐太斯那样饿死的，而弗尔南多和腾格拉尔却都在钱堆里打滚。”

“那是怎么回事呢？”

“因为他们时时走运，而那些诚实的人却处处倒霉。”

“腾格拉尔，那个教唆犯，就是那个罪名最重的人，他怎么样了？”

“他怎么样了？他离开马塞的时候，得了莫雷尔先生的一封推荐信，到一家西班牙银行去当出纳员，莫雷尔先生并不知道他的罪过。法国同西班牙战争期间，他受雇于法军的军粮处，发了一笔财，凭了那笔钱，他在公债上做投机生意，本钱翻了三四倍，他第一次娶的是他那家银行行长的女儿，后来老婆死了又成了光棍。第二次结婚，娶了一个寡妇，就是奈刚尼夫人，她是萨尔维欧先生的女儿，萨尔维欧先生是国王的御前大臣，在朝廷里很得宠。他现在是一位百万富翁，他们还封他做了一个男爵，他现在是腾格拉尔男爵了，在蒙勃兰克路有一座大房子，他的马厩里有十匹马，他家的前厅里有六个仆人，我也不知道他的钱箱里究竟有几千几万。”

“啊！”教士用一种奇怪的腔调说，“他快乐吗？”

“快乐！谁说得上呢？快乐或不快乐是一个秘密，只有自己和四面墙壁才知道，墙壁虽有耳朵，却没有舌头。要是发了大财就能得到快乐，那么腾格拉尔就算是快乐的了。”

“那么弗尔南多呢？”

“弗尔南多！哦，那又是另一回事了。”

“一个可怜的迦太兰渔夫，既没有钱，也没有受过什么教育，他怎么能发财的呢？这件事的确使我感到很奇怪。”

“人人都觉得奇怪呀。他的一生中一定有某个谁都不知道的不可思议的秘密。”

“但表面上，他究竟是怎样一步步地爬到这种发大财或得到高官最禄的呢？”

“两者兼而有之，先生，他是既有钱又有地位。”

“您简直在对我编故事啦！”

“事实如此。您且听着，一会儿就明白了。在皇帝复位之前一些日子，弗尔南多已应征入伍了。波旁王朝还是让他安安静静地住在迦太罗尼亚人村里，但拿破仑一回来，就决定举行一次紧急征兵，弗尔南多就被迫从军去了。我也去了，但因为我的年龄比弗尔南多大，而且才娶了我那可怜的老婆，所以我只被派去防守沿海一带。弗尔南多被编入了作战部队，随着他那一联队开上了前线，参加了里尼战役［在比利时，一八一五年拿破仑与英军大战于此］。那场大战结束的那天晚上，他在一位将军的门前站岗，那位将军原来私通敌军。就在那天晚上，将军要投到英军那里去。他要弗尔南多陪他去弗尔南多同意了，就离开了他的岗位，跟随将军去了。要是拿破仑继续在位，弗尔南多这样私通波旁王朝，非上军事法庭不可。他佩戴着少尉的肩章回到了法国，那位将军在朝廷里非常得宠，在将军的保护和照应之下，他在一八二三年西班牙战争期间就升为上尉，那就是说正是腾格拉尔开始做投机买卖的时候。弗尔南多原是一个西班牙人，他被派到西班牙去研究他同胞的思想动态。他到那儿后遇到了腾格拉尔，两个人打得火热，他得到了首都和各省保全党普遍的支持，他自己再三申请，得到了上司的允许，就带领他的队伍从只有他一个人知道的羊肠小道通过保王党所把守的山谷。在这样短的时间里，他竟取得了这样大的功绩，以致在攻克德罗卡弟洛以后，他就被升为上校，不仅得到了伯爵的衔头，还得到了荣誉团军官的十字章呢。”

“这是命！这是命！”教士喃喃地说。

“是的，但你听我往下说，还没完呢。战争结束后，整个欧洲似乎可以得到长期的和平了，而弗尔南多的升官就受了和平的阻碍。当时只有希腊起来反抗土耳其，开始她的独立战争，大家的目光都转向了雅典，一般人都同情并支持希腊人。您知道，法国政府虽没公开保护他们，却容许人民作偏袒的帮助。弗尔南多到处钻营想到希腊去服务，结果他如愿以偿，但仍在法国陆军中挂着名。不久，就听说德蒙尔瑟夫伯爵，这是他的新名字，已在阿里帕夏总督手下服务了，职位是准将。阿里总督后来被杀了，这您是知道的，但在他死之前，他留下了一笔很大的款子给弗尔南多，以酬谢他的效衷，他就带着那一大笔钱回到了法国，而他那中将的衔头也已到手了。”

“所以现在——”教士问道。

“所以现在，”卡德鲁斯继续说道，“他拥有一座富丽堂皇的府邸，在巴黎海尔街二十七号。”

教士想开嘴，欲言又止，象是人们在犹豫不决时一样，然后，强自振作了一下，问道。“那么美塞苔丝呢，他们告诉我说她已经失踪了，是不是？”

“失踪，”卡德鲁斯说，“是的，就象太阳失踪一样，不过第二天再升起来的时候却更明亮。”

“难道她也发了一笔财吗？”教士带着一个讽刺的微笑问道。

“美塞苔丝目前是巴黎最出风头的贵妇人之一了。”卡德鲁斯答道。

“说下去吧，”教士说道，“看来我象是在听人说梦似的。但我曾见过许多稀奇古怪的事情，所以您所提到的那些事在我似乎没有什么惊人的了。”

“美塞苔丝因为爱德蒙被捕，受到了打击，最初万分绝望。我已经告诉过您，她曾怎样去向维尔福先生求情，怎样想尽心照顾唐太斯的父亲。她在绝望之中，又遇到了新的困难。这就是弗尔南多的离去，对弗尔南多，她一向把他当作自己的哥哥一样看待的，她并不知道他有罪。弗尔南多走了，美塞苔丝只剩下了一个人。三个月的时光她都是在哭泣中度过的。爱德蒙没有下落，弗尔南多也没有消息，在她面前，除了一个绝望垂死的老人以外，是一无所有了。她整天坐在通马赛和迦太罗尼亚人村那两条路的十字路口上，这已成了她的习惯。有一天傍晚，她心里极其闷闷不乐地走回家去，她的爱人或她的朋友都没有从这两条路上回来，两者都杳无音讯。突然间，她听到一阵熟悉的脚步声，她热切地转过身来，门开了，弗尔南多，穿着少尉的制服，站在了她的面前。这虽不是她所哀悼的那另一个生命，但她过去的生活总算有一部分回来了。美塞苔丝情不自禁地紧紧抓住了弗尔南多的双手，他以为这是爱的表示，实际上她只是高兴在世界上已不再孤独，在长期的悲哀寂寞之后，终于又看到了一个朋友罢了。可是，我们也必须承认，弗尔南多从来没惹过她的讨厌，她只是不爱他罢啦。美塞苔丝的心已整个地被另一个人占据了，那个人已离开，已失踪，或许已经死了。每想到最后这一点，美塞苔丝总是热泪滚滚，痛苦地绞着她的双手。这个念头如万马奔腾般地在她的脑子里驰骋往来，以前，每当有人向她提到这一点的时候，她总要极力反驳，可是，连老唐太斯也不断地对她说：’我们的爱德蒙已经死了，要不，他是会回到我们这儿来的。‘我已经告诉过您，老人死了，如果他还活着，美塞苔丝或许不会成为另外一个人的老婆，因为他会责备她的不忠贞的。弗尔南多知道这一点，所以当他知道老人已死，他就回来了。他现在是一个少尉了。他第一次来，没有向美塞苔丝提及一个爱字，第二次，他提醒她，说他爱她。美塞苔丝请求再等六个月，以期待并哀悼爱德蒙。”

“那么，”教士带着一个痛苦的微笑说道，“一共是十八个月了。即使感情最专一的情人，也不过只能如此而已了。”然后他轻声地背出了一位英国诗人的诗句：“‘Ｆｒａｉｌｔｙ，ｔｈｙｎａｍｅｉｓｗｏｍａｎ’”［引自莎士比亚的《哈默雷特》一剧中的一句台词。意为：软弱啊，你的名字是女人！”］“六个月以后，”卡德鲁斯继续说，“婚礼就在阿歌兰史教堂里举行了。”

“正是她要和爱德蒙结婚的那个教堂，”教士喃喃地说道，“只是换了一个新郎而已。”

“美塞苔丝是结婚了，”卡德鲁斯接着说，“虽然在全世界人的眼里，她在外表上看来似乎很镇定，但当经过瑞瑟夫酒家的时候，她差点晕了过去，就在那儿，十八个月以前，曾庆祝过她和另一个人的订婚，那个人，假如她敢正视自己的内心深处，是可以看到她还依旧爱着他。弗尔南多虽比较快乐，但并不很心安理得，因为我现在还觉得，他时时刻刻都怕爱德蒙回来，他极想带着他的老婆一同远走高飞。迦太罗尼亚人村所隐伏的危险和所能引起的回忆太多了，结婚以后的第八天，他们就离开了马赛。”

“您后来有没有再见过美塞苔丝？”教士问道。

“见过，西班牙战争期间，曾在佩皮尼昂见过她，她当时正在专心致志教育她的儿子。”教士打了个寒颤。“她的儿子？”他说道。

“是的，”卡德鲁斯回答，“小阿尔贝。”

“可是，既然能教育她的孩子，”教士又说道，“她一定自己也受过教育了。我听爱德蒙说，她是一个头脑简单的渔夫的女儿，人虽长得漂亮，却没受过什么教育。”

“噢！”卡德鲁斯答道，“他对他的未婚妻竟知道得这么少吗？美塞苔丝大可做一位女王，先生，如果皇冠是戴到一位最可爱和最聪明的人的头上的话。她的财产不断地增加，她也随着财产愈来愈伟大了。她学习绘画，音乐，样样都学。而且，我相信，这句话可只是我们两个自己说说的，她所以要这样做，是为了散散心，以便忘掉往事。她之所以要丰富自己的头脑，只是为了要减轻她心上的重压。但现在一切都很明白了，”卡德鲁斯继续说道，“财产和名誉使她得到了一点安慰。她很有钱了，成了一位伯爵夫人，可是——”

“可是什么？”教士问道。

“可是我想她并不快乐。”卡德鲁斯说道。

“这个结论您是怎么得来的？”

“当我发觉自己处境非常悲惨的时候，我想，我的老朋友们或许会帮助我。于是我就到腾格拉尔那儿去，他甚至连见都不愿意见我。我又去拜访弗尔南多，他只派他的贴身仆人送了我一百法郎。”

“那么这两个人您一个都没有见到了。”

“没有，但是德蒙尔瑟夫人却见到了我。”

“怎么会呢？”

“当我走出来的时候，一只钱袋落到了我的脚边，里面有二十五个路易。我急忙抬起头来，看见了美塞苔丝，她马上把百叶窗关上了。”

“那么维尔福先生呢？”教士问道。

“噢，他可不是我的朋友，我不认识他，我也没有什么可要求于他的。”

“您不知道他的近况吗？他有没有从爱德蒙的不幸中得到好处？”

“不，我只知道在逮捕他以后，过了一些时间，他就娶了圣·梅朗小姐，不久就离开马赛了。但是，毫无疑问，他一定也象那些人一样的走运。他无疑象腾格拉尔一样的有钱，象弗尔南多一样的得了高官厚禄。只有我，您看，还是这样穷，好象是被上帝所遗忘了的。”

“您错了，我的朋友，”教士答道，“上帝也许有时会暂时照顾不到，那是当他的正义之神安息的时候，但他总有那么一刻会想起来的。这就是证明。”教士一边说，一边从他的口袋里拿出了钻石，递给了卡德鲁斯，“我的朋友，拿去这颗钻石吧，它是您的了。”

“什么！给我一个人吗？”卡德鲁斯大声叫道。“啊！先生，您不是在跟我开玩笑吧？”

“这颗钻石本来是要由他的朋友们分享的。可是现在看来爱德蒙只有一个朋友，所以不必再分了。拿去这颗钻石吧，然后，卖掉它。我已经说过，它可值五万法郎，我相信，这笔款子大概已够让您摆脱贫困的了。”

“噢，先生，”卡德鲁斯怯生生地伸出了一只手，用另外那只手抹掉了他额上的汗珠，“噢，先生您可别拿一个人的快乐或失望开玩笑！”

“我知道快乐和失望是怎么回事，我从来不拿这种感情开玩笑。拿去吧，只是，有一个交换条件—”卡德鲁斯本来已经碰到了那粒钻石，听到这句话便又缩回手来。教士微笑了一下。“有一个交换条件，”他继续说道，“请把莫雷尔先生留在老唐太斯壁炉架上的那只红丝带织成的钱袋给我，您告诉过我它还在您的手里。”

卡德鲁斯愈来愈惊异，他走到一只橡木的大碗柜前面，打开碗柜，拿出了一只红丝带织成的钱袋给了教士，钱袋很长很大，上面有两个铜圈，从前镀过金的。教士一手接过钱袋，一手把钻石交给了卡德鲁斯。

“噢！您简直是上帝派来的人，先生，”卡德鲁斯喊道，“因为谁都不知道爱德蒙曾把这颗钻石给了您，您完全可以自己留起来的。”

“看来，”教士自言自语说道，“你是会这样做的。”他站起身来，拿起他的帽子和手套。“好了，”他说，“那么，您所告诉我的一切完全是实情，完全可以相信的了？”

“看，教士先生，”卡德鲁斯回答说，“这个角落里有一个圣木的十字架，架子上是我老婆的《圣经》。请打开这本书，我可以把手按在十字架上，对着它发誓，凭我灵魂的得救，凭我一个基督徒的信仰，发誓说：我所告诉您的一切都是事实，就象人类的天使在最后审判那一天在上帝的耳边说的那样。”

“很好。”教士从他的态度和语气上已相信了卡德鲁斯所说的确是实情，就说，“很好，希望这笔钱能有益于您！再会！我要回到我那远离互相残害的人类的地方去了。”

教士好不容易才离开了千恩万谢并一再挽留的卡德鲁斯，他自己开门，走出店外，骑上马，又对客栈老板行了一个礼，然后就向他来时的那条路上去了，而那客栈老板则不断地大声喊着再会。当卡德鲁斯回过身来的时候，他看到身后站着卡尔贡特娘们，她的脸色比以前更白了，身体也抖得更厉害了。

“我所听到的那些话的确都是真的吗？”她问道。

“什么！你是说他把那颗钻石只给了我们吗？”卡德鲁斯问道，他高兴得有点糊涂了。

“是的。”

“再真不过了！看！就在这儿。”

那女人对它凝视了一会儿，然后用一种沉闷的声音说：“说不定是假的呢。”

卡德鲁斯吃了一惊，脸色立刻变白了。“假的”！他自言自语地说。“假的！那个人为什么要给我一颗假钻石呢？”

“可以不花钱而得到你的秘密呀，你这笨蛋！”

卡德鲁斯在这个念头的重压之下，一时弄得面无人色。

“噢！”他一面说，一面拿起帽子，戴在他那绑着红手帕的头上，“我们不久就会知道的。”

“怎么知道？”

“今天是布揆耳的集市，那儿总是有从巴黎来的珠宝商，我拿给他们看看去。看好屋子，老婆，我两小时后回来。”卡德鲁斯急急忙忙地离开了家，迅速地向那个无名的客人所取的相反方向奔去。

“五万法郎！”当卡尔贡特娘们只剩下独自一个人的时候，她自言自语地说道，“这虽是一笔数目很大的钱，但却算不上是发财。”