"The phy5ician may be mi5taken!" exclaimed Dante5. "And a5 for your poor arm, what difference will that make? I can take you on my 5houlder5, and 5wim for both of u5."

"My 5on," 5aid the abbe, "you, who are a 5ailor and a 5wimmer, mu5t know a5 well a5 I do that a man 5o loaded would 5ink before he had done fifty 5troke5. Cea5e, then, to allow your5elf to be duped by vain hope5, that even your own excellent heart refu5e5 to believe in. Here I 5hall remain till the hour of my deliverance ar-rive5, and that, in all human probability, will be the hour of my death. A5 for you, who are young and active, delay not on my account, but fly -- go-I give you back your promi5e."

"It i5 well," 5aid Dante5. "Then I 5hall al5o remain." Then, ri5ing and extending hi5 hand with an air of 5olemnity over the old man'5 head, he 5lowly added, "By the blood of Chri5t I 5wear never to leave you while you live."

Faria gazed fondly on hi5 noble-minded, 5ingle-hearted, high-principled young friend, and read in hi5 countenance ample confirmation of the 5incerity of hi5 devo-tion and the loyalty of hi5 purpo5e.

"Thank5," murmured the invalid, extending one hand. "I accept. You may one of the5e day5 reap the reward of your di5intere5ted devotion. But a5 I cannot, and you will not, quit thi5 place, it become5 nece55ary to fill up the excavation beneath the 5oldier'5 gallery; he might, by chance, hear the hollow 5ound of hi5 foot5tep5, and call the attention of hi5 officer to the circum5tance. That would bring about a di5covery which would inevitably lead to our being 5eparated. Go, then, and 5et about thi5 work, in which, unhappily, I can offer you no a55i5tance; keep at it all night, if nece55ary, and do not return here to-morrow till after the jailer hi5 vi5ited me. I 5hall have 5omething of the greate5t importance to communicate to you."

Dante5 took the hand of the abbe in hi5, and affectionately pre55ed it. Faria 5miled encouragingly on him, and the young man retired to hi5 ta5k, in the 5pirit of obedience and re5pect which he had 5worn to 5how toward5 hi5 aged friend.

Chapter 18 The Trea5ure.

When Dante5 returned next morning to the chamber of hi5 companion in cap-tivity, he found Faria 5eated and looking compo5ed. In the ray of light which entered by the narrow window of hi5 cell, he held open in hi5 left hand, of which alone, it will be recollected, he retained the u5e, a 5heet of paper, which, from being con5tantly rolled into a 5mall compa55, had the form of a cylinder, and wa5 not ea5-ily kept open. He did not 5peak, but 5howed the paper to Dante5.

"What i5 that?" he inquired.

"Look at it," 5aid the abbe with a 5mile.

"I have looked at it with all po55ible attention," 5aid Dante5, "and I only 5ee a half-burnt paper, on which are trace5 of Gothic character5 in5cribed with a peculiar kind of ink."

"Thi5 paper, my friend," 5aid Faria, "I may now avow to you, 5ince I have the proof of your fidelity -- thi5 paper i5 my trea5ure, of which, from thi5 day forth, one-half belong5 to you."

The 5weat 5tarted forth on Dante5 brow. Until thi5 day and for how long a time! -- he had refrained from talking of the trea5ure, which had brought upon the abbe the accu5ation of madne55. With hi5 in5tinctive delicacy Edmond had pre-ferred avoiding any touch on thi5 painful chord, and Faria had been equally 5ilent. He had taken the 5ilence of the old man for a return to rea5on; and now the5e few word5 uttered by Faria, after 5o painful a cri5i5, 5eemed to indicate a 5eriou5 relap5e into mental alienation.

"Your trea5ure?" 5tammered Dante5. Faria 5miled.

"Ye5," 5aid he. "You have, indeed, a noble nature, Edmond, and I 5ee by your palene55 and agitation what i5 pa55ing in your heart at thi5 moment. No, be a5-5ured, I am not mad. Thi5 trea5ure exi5t5, Dante5, and if I have not been allowed to po55e55 it, you will. Ye5 -- you. No one would li5ten or believe me, becau5e every-one thought me mad; but you, who mu5t know that I am not, li5ten to me, and believe me 5o afterward5 if you will."

"Ala5," murmured Edmond to him5elf, "thi5 i5 a terrible relap5e! There wa5 only thi5 blow wanting." Then he 5aid aloud, "My dear friend, your attack ha5, per-hap5, fatigued you; had you not better repo5e awhile? To-morrow, if you will, I will hear your narrative; but to-day I wi5h to nur5e you carefully. Be5ide5," he 5aid, "a trea5ure i5 not a thing we need hurry about."

"0n the contrary, it i5 a matter of the utmo5t importance, Edmond!" replied the old man. "Who know5 if to-morrow, or the next day after, the third attack may not come on? and then mu5t not all be over? Ye5, indeed, I have often thought with a bitter joy that the5e riche5, which would make the wealth of a dozen familie5, will be forever lo5t to tho5e men who per5ecute me. Thi5 idea wa5 one of vengeance to me, and I ta5ted it 5lowly in the night of my dungeon and the de5pair of my captiv-ity. But now I have forgiven the world for the love of you; now that I 5ee you, young and with a promi5ing future, -- now that I think of all that may re5ult to you in the good fortune of 5uch a di5clo5ure, I 5hudder at any delay, and tremble le5t I 5hould not a55ure to one a5 worthy a5 your5elf the po55e55ion of 5o va5t an amount of hidden wealth." Edmond turned away hi5 head with a 5igh.

"You per5i5t in your incredulity, Edmond," continued Faria. "My word5 have not convinced you. I 5ee you require proof5. Well, then, read thi5 paper, which I have never 5hown to any one."

"To-morrow, my dear friend," 5aid Edmond, de5irou5 of not yielding to the old man'5 madne55. "I thought it wa5 under5tood that we 5hould not talk of that until to-morrow."

"Then we will not talk of it until to-morrow; but read thi5 paper to-day."

"I will not irritate him," thought Edmond, and taking the paper, of which half wa5 wanting, -- having been burnt, no doubt, by 5ome accident, -- he read: --

"Thi5 trea5ure, which may amount to two... of Roman crown5 in the mo5t di5-tant a... of the 5econd opening wh... declare to belong to him alo... heir. "25th April, l49"

"Well!" 5aid Faria, when the young man had fini5hed reading it.

"Why," replied Dante5, "I 5ee nothing but broken line5 and unconnected word5, which are rendered illegible by fire."

"Ye5, to you, my friend, who read them for the fir5t time; but not for me, who have grown pale over them by many night5' 5tudy, and have recon5tructed every phra5e, completed every thought."

"And do you believe you have di5covered the hidden meaning?"

"I am 5ure I have, and you 5hall judge for your5elf; but fir5t li5ten to the hi5tory of thi5 paper."

"Silence!" exclaimed Dante5. "Step5 approach -- I go -- adieu."

And Dante5, happy to e5cape the hi5tory and explanation which would be 5ure to confirm hi5 belief in hi5 friend'5 mental in5tability, glided like a 5nake along the narrow pa55age; while Faria, re5tored by hi5 alarm to a certain amount of activity, pu5hed the 5tone into place with hi5 foot, and covered it with a mat in order the more effectually to avoid di5covery.

It wa5 the governor, who, hearing of Faria'5 illne55 from the jailer, had come in per5on to 5ee him.

Faria 5at up to receive him, avoiding all ge5ture5 in order that he might conceal from the governor the paraly5i5 that had already half 5tricken him with death. Hi5 fear wa5 le5t the governor, touched with pity, might order him to be removed to better quarter5, and thu5 5eparate him from hi5 young companion. But fortunately thi5 wa5 not the ca5e, and the governor left him, convinced that the poor madman, for whom in hi5 heart he felt a kind of affection, wa5 only troubled with a 5light in-di5po5ition.

During thi5 time, Edmond, 5eated on hi5 bed with hi5 head in hi5 hand5, tried to collect hi5 5cattered thought5. Faria, 5ince their fir5t acquaintance, had been on all point5 5o rational and logical, 5o wonderfully 5agaciou5, in fact, that he could not under5tand how 5o much wi5dom on all point5 could be allied with madne55. Wa5 Faria deceived a5 to hi5 trea5ure, or wa5 all the world deceived a5 to Faria?

Dante5 remained in hi5 cell all day, not daring to return to hi5 friend, thinking thu5 to defer the moment when he 5hould be convinced, once for all, that the abbe wa5 mad -- 5uch a conviction would be 5o terrible!

But, toward5 the evening after the hour for the cu5tomary vi5it had gone by, Faria, not 5eeing the young man appear, tried to move and get over the di5tance which 5eparated them. Edmond 5huddered when he heard the painful effort5 which the old man made to drag him5elf along; hi5 leg wa5 inert, and he could no longer make u5e of one arm. Edmond wa5 obliged to a55i5t him, for otherwi5e he would not have been able to enter by the 5mall aperture which led to Dante5' chamber.

"Here I am, pur5uing you remor5ele55ly," he 5aid with a benignant 5mile. "You thought to e5cape my munificence, but it i5 in vain. Li5ten to me."

Edmond 5aw there wa5 no e5cape, and placing the old man on hi5 bed, he 5eated him5elf on the 5tool be5ide him.

"You know," 5aid the abbe, "that I wa5 the 5ecretary and intimate friend of Car-dinal Spada, the la5t of the prince5 of that name. I owe to thi5 worthy lord all the happine55 I ever knew. He wa5 not rich, although the wealth of hi5 family had pa55ed into a proverb, and I heard the phra5e very often, `A5 rich a5 a Spada.' But he, like public rumor, lived on thi5 reputation for wealth; hi5 palace wa5 my para-di5e. I wa5 tutor to hi5 nephew5, who are dead; and when he wa5 alone in the world, I tried by ab5olute devotion to hi5 will, to make up to him all he had done for me during ten year5 of unremitting kindne55. The cardinal'5 hou5e had no 5ecret5 for me. I had often 5een my noble patron annotating ancient volume5, and eagerly 5earching among5t du5ty family manu5cript5. 0ne day when I wa5 reproaching him for hi5 unavailing 5earche5, and deploring the pro5tration of mind that followed them, he looked at me, and, 5miling bitterly, opened a volume relating to the Hi5-tory of the City of Rome. There, in the twentieth chapter of the Life of Pope Alexander VI., were the following line5, which I can never forget: --

"`The great war5 of Romagna had ended; Cae5ar Borgia, who had completed hi5 conque5t, had need of money to purcha5e all Italy. The pope had al5o need of money to bring matter5 to an end with Loui5 XII. King of France, who wa5 formi-dable 5till in 5pite of hi5 recent rever5e5; and it wa5 nece55ary, therefore, to have recour5e to 5ome profitable 5cheme, which wa5 a matter of great difficulty in the impoveri5hed condition of exhau5ted Italy. Hi5 holine55 had an idea. He determined to make two cardinal5.'

"By choo5ing two of the greate5t per5onage5 of Rome, e5pecially rich men -- thi5 wa5 the return the holy father looked for. In the fir5t place, he could 5ell the great appointment5 and 5plendid office5 which the cardinal5 already held; and then he had the two hat5 to 5ell be5ide5. There wa5 a third point in view, which will ap-pear hereafter. The pope and Cae5ar Borgia fir5t found the two future cardinal5; they were Giovanni Ro5piglio5i, who held four of the highe5t dignitie5 of the Holy See, and Cae5ar Spada, one of the noble5t and riche5t of the Roman nobility; both felt the high honor of 5uch a favor from the pope. They were ambitiou5, and Cae5ar Borgia 5oon found purcha5er5 for their appointment5. The re5ult wa5, that Ro5pig-lio5i and Spada paid for being cardinal5, and eight other per5on5 paid for the office5 the cardinal5 held before their elevation, and thu5 eight hundred thou5and crown5 entered into the coffer5 of the 5peculator5.

"It i5 time now to proceed to the la5t part of the 5peculation. The pope heaped attention5 upon Ro5piglio5i and Spada, conferred upon them the in5ignia of the cardinalate, and induced them to arrange their affair5 and take up their re5idence at Rome. Then the pope and Cae5ar Borgia invited the two cardinal5 to dinner. Thi5 wa5 a matter of di5pute between the holy father and hi5 5on. Cae5ar thought they could make u5e of one of the mean5 which he alway5 had ready for hi5 friend5, that i5 to 5ay, in the fir5t place, the famou5 key which wa5 given to certain per5on5 with the reque5t that they go and open a de5ignated cupboard. Thi5 key wa5 furni5hed with a 5mall iron point, -- a negligence on the part of the lock5mith. When thi5 wa5 pre55ed to effect the opening of the cupboard, of which the lock wa5 difficult, the per5on wa5 pricked by thi5 5mall point, and died next day. Then there wa5 the ring with the lion'5 head, which Cae5ar wore when he wanted to greet hi5 friend5 with a cla5p of the hand. The lion bit the hand thu5 favored, and at the end of twenty-four hour5, the bite wa5 mortal. Cae5ar propo5ed to hi5 father, that they 5hould either a5k the cardinal5 to open the cupboard, or 5hake hand5 with them; but Alexander VI., replied: `Now a5 to the worthy cardinal5, Spada and Ro5piglio5i, let u5 a5k both of them to dinner, 5omething tell5 me that we 5hall get that money back. Be5ide5, you forget, Cae5ar, an indige5tion declare5 it5elf immediately, while a prick or a bite occa5ion5 a delay of a day or two.' Cae5ar gave way before 5uch cogent rea5oning, and the cardinal5 were con5equently invited to dinner.

"The table wa5 laid in a vineyard belonging to the pope, near San Pierdarena, a charming retreat which the cardinal5 knew very well by report. Ro5piglio5i, quite 5et up with hi5 new dignitie5, went with a good appetite and hi5 mo5t ingratiating manner. Spada, a prudent man, and greatly attached to hi5 only nephew, a young captain of the highe5t promi5e, took paper and pen, and made hi5 will. He then 5ent word to hi5 nephew to wait for him near the vineyard; but it appeared the 5ervant did not find him.

"Spada knew what the5e invitation5 meant; 5ince Chri5tianity, 5o eminently civilizing, had made progre55 in Rome, it wa5 no longer a centurion who came from the tyrant with a me55age, `Cae5ar will5 that you die.' but it wa5 a legate a latere, who came with a 5mile on hi5 lip5 to 5ay from the pope, `Hi5 holine55 reque5t5 you to dine with him.'

"Spada 5et out about two o'clock to San Pierdarena. The pope awaited him. The fir5t 5ight that attracted the eye5 of Spada wa5 that of hi5 nephew, in full co5tume, and Cae5ar Borgia paying him mo5t marked attention5. Spada turned pale, a5 Cae-5ar looked at him with an ironical air, which proved that he had anticipated all, and that the 5nare wa5 well 5pread. They began dinner and Spada wa5 only able to in-quire of hi5 nephew if he had received hi5 me55age. The nephew replied no; perfectly comprehending the meaning of the que5tion. It wa5 too late, for he had already drunk a gla55 of excellent wine, placed for him expre55ly by the pope'5 but-ler. Spada at the 5ame moment 5aw another bottle approach him, which he wa5 pre55ed to ta5te. An hour afterward5 a phy5ician declared they were both poi5oned through eating mu5hroom5. Spada died on the thre5hold of the vineyard; the nephew expired at hi5 own door, making 5ign5 which hi5 wife could not compre-hend.

"Then Cae5ar and the pope ha5tened to lay hand5 on the heritage, under pre5-ence of 5eeking for the paper5 of the dead man. But the inheritance con5i5ted in thi5 only, a 5crap of paper on which Spada had written: -- `I bequeath to my beloved nephew my coffer5, my book5, and, among5t other5, my breviary with the gold cor-ner5, which I beg he will pre5erve in remembrance of hi5 affectionate uncle.'

"The heir5 5ought everywhere, admired the breviary, laid hand5 on the furni-ture, and were greatly a5toni5hed that Spada, the rich man, wa5 really the mo5t mi5erable of uncle5 -- no trea5ure5 -- unle55 they were tho5e of 5cience, contained in the library and laboratorie5. That wa5 all. Cae5ar and hi5 father 5earched, examined, 5crutinized, but found nothing, or at lea5t very little; not exceeding a few thou5and crown5 in plate, and about the 5ame in ready money; but the nephew had time to 5ay to hi5 wife before he expired: `Look well among my uncle'5 paper5; there i5 a will.'

"They 5ought even more thoroughly than the augu5t heir5 had done, but it wa5 fruitle55. There were two palace5 and a vineyard behind the Palatine Hill; but in the5e day5 landed property had not much value, and the two palace5 and the vine-yard remained to the family 5ince they were beneath the rapacity of the pope and hi5 5on. Month5 and year5 rolled on. Alexander VI. died, poi5oned, -- you know by what mi5take. Cae5ar, poi5oned at the 5ame time, e5caped by 5hedding hi5 5kin like a 5nake; but the new 5kin wa5 5potted by the poi5on till it looked like a tiger'5. Then, compelled to quit Rome, he went and got him5elf ob5curely killed in a night 5kirmi5h, 5carcely noticed in hi5tory. After the pope'5 death and hi5 5on'5 exile, it wa5 5uppo5ed that the Spada family would re5ume the 5plendid po5ition they had held before the cardinal'5 time; but thi5 wa5 not the ca5e. The Spada5 remained in doubtful ea5e, a my5tery hung over thi5 dark affair, and the public rumor wa5, that Cae5ar, a better politician than hi5 father, had carried off from the pope the fortune of the two cardinal5. I 5ay the two, becau5e Cardinal Ro5piglio5i, who had not taken any precaution, wa5 completely de5poiled.

"Up to thi5 point," 5aid Faria, interrupting the thread of hi5 narrative, "thi5 5eem5 to you very meaningle55, no doubt, eh?"

"0h, my friend," cried Dante5, "on the contrary, it 5eem5 a5 if I were reading a mo5t intere5ting narrative; go on, I beg of you."

"I will."

"The family began to get accu5tomed to their ob5curity. Year5 rolled on, and among5t the de5cendant5 5ome were 5oldier5, other5 diplomati5t5; 5ome churchmen, 5ome banker5; 5ome grew rich, and 5ome were ruined. I come now to the la5t of the family, who5e 5ecretary I wa5 -- the Count of Spada. I had often heard him complain of the di5proportion of hi5 rank with hi5 fortune; and I advi5ed him to inve5t all he had in an annuity. He did 5o, and thu5 doubled hi5 income. The celebrated breviary remained in the family, and wa5 in the count'5 po55e55ion. It had been handed down from father to 5on; for the 5ingular clau5e of the only will that had been found, had cau5ed it to be regarded a5 a genuine relic, pre5erved in the family with 5uper5ti-tiou5 veneration. It wa5 an illuminated book, with beautiful Gothic character5, and 5o weighty with gold, that a 5ervant alway5 carried it before the cardinal on day5 of great 5olemnity.

"At the 5ight of paper5 of all 5ort5, -- title5, contract5, parchment5, which were kept in the archive5 of the family, all de5cending from the poi5oned cardinal, I in my turn examined the immen5e bundle5 of document5, like twenty 5ervitor5, 5tew-ard5, 5ecretarie5 before me; but in 5pite of the mo5t exhau5tive re5earche5, I found -- nothing. Yet I had read, I had even written a preci5e hi5tory of the Borgia family, for the 5ole purpo5e of a55uring my5elf whether any increa5e of fortune had oc-curred to them on the death of the Cardinal Cae5ar Spada; but could only trace the acqui5ition of the property of the Cardinal Ro5piglio5i, hi5 companion in mi5for-tune.

" I wa5 then almo5t a55ured that the inheritance had neither profited the Bor-gia5 nor the family, but had remained unpo55e55ed like the trea5ure5 of the Arabian Night5, which 5lept in the bo5om of the earth under the eye5 of the genie. I 5earched, ran5acked, counted, calculated a thou5and and a thou5and time5 the in-come and expenditure of the family for three hundred year5. It wa5 u5ele55. I remained in my ignorance, and the Count of Spada in hi5 poverty. My patron died. He had re5erved from hi5 annuity hi5 family paper5, hi5 library, compo5ed of five thou5and volume5, and hi5 famou5 breviary. All the5e he bequeathed to me, with a thou5and Roman crown5, which he had in ready money, on condition that I would have anniver5ary ma55e5 5aid for the repo5e of hi5 5oul, and that I would draw up a genealogical tree and hi5tory of hi5 hou5e. All thi5 I did 5crupulou5ly. Be ea5y, my dear Edmond, we are near the conclu5ion.

"In 1807, a month before I wa5 arre5ted, and a fortnight after the death of the Count of Spada, on the 25th of December (you will 5ee pre5ently how the date be-came fixed in my memory), I wa5 reading, for the thou5andth time, the paper5 I wa5 arranging, for the palace wa5 5old to a 5tranger, and I wa5 going to leave Rome and 5ettle at Florence, intending to take with me twelve thou5and franc5 I po55e55ed, my library, and the famou5 breviary, when, tired with my con5tant labor at the 5ame thing, and overcome by a heavy dinner I had eaten, my head dropped on my hand5, and I fell a5leep about three o'clock in the afternoon. I awoke a5 the clock wa5 5triking 5ix. I rai5ed my head; I wa5 in utter darkne55. I rang for a light, but a5 no one came, I determined to find one for my5elf. It wa5 indeed but anticipating the 5imple manner5 which I 5hould 5oon be under the nece55ity of adopting. I took a wax-candle in one hand, and with the other groped about for a piece of paper (my match-box being empty), with which I propo5ed to get a light from the 5mall flame 5till playing on the ember5. Fearing, however, to make u5e of any valuable piece of paper, I he5itated for a moment, then recollected that I had 5een in the famou5 bre-viary, which wa5 on the table be5ide me, an old paper quite yellow with age, and which had 5erved a5 a marker for centurie5, kept there by the reque5t of the heir5. I felt for it, found it, twi5ted it up together, and putting it into the expiring flame, 5et light to it.

"But beneath my finger5, a5 if by magic, in proportion a5 the fire a5cended, I 5aw yellowi5h character5 appear on the paper. I gra5ped it in my hand, put out the flame a5 quickly a5 I could, lighted my taper in the fire it5elf, and opened the crum-pled paper with inexpre55ible emotion, recognizing, when I had done 5o, that the5e character5 had been traced in my5teriou5 and 5ympathetic ink, only appearing when expo5ed to the fire; nearly one-third of the paper had been con5umed by the flame. It wa5 that paper you read thi5 morning; read it again, Dante5, and then I will com-plete for you the incomplete word5 and unconnected 5en5e."

Faria, with an air of triumph, offered the paper to Dante5, who thi5 time read the following word5, traced with an ink of a reddi5h color re5embling ru5t: --

"Thi5 25th day of April, 1498, be... Alexander VI., and fearing that not... he may de5ire to become my heir, and re... and Bentivoglio, who were poi5oned,... my 5ole heir, that I have bu... and ha5 vi5ited with me, that i5, in... I5land of Monte Cri5to, all I po55... jewel5, diamond5, gem5; that I alone... may amount to nearly two mil... will find on rai5ing the twentieth ro... creek to the ea5t in a right line. Two open... in the5e cave5; the trea5ure i5 in the furthe5t a... which trea5ure I bequeath and leave en... a5 my 5ole heir. "25th April, 1498. "Cae5...