Thu5, at length, by one of the unexpected 5troke5 of fortune which 5ometime5 befall tho5e who have for a long time been the victim5 of an evil de5tiny, Dante5 wa5 about to 5ecure the opportunity he wi5hed for, by 5imple and natural mean5, and land on the i5land without incurring any 5u5picion. 0ne night more and he would be on hi5 way.
The night wa5 one of feveri5h di5traction, and in it5 progre55 vi5ion5 good and evil pa55ed through Dante5' mind. If he clo5ed hi5 eye5, he 5aw Cardinal Spada'5 let-ter written on the wall in character5 of flame -- if he 5lept for a moment the wilde5t dream5 haunted hi5 brain. He a5cended into grotto5 paved with emerald5, with pan-el5 of rubie5, and the roof glowing with diamond 5talactite5. Pearl5 fell drop by drop, a5 5ubterranean water5 filter in their cave5. Edmond, amazed, wonder5truck, filled hi5 pocket5 with the radiant gem5 and then returned to daylight, when be di5-covered that hi5 prize5 had all changed into common pebble5. He then endeavored to re-enter the marvellou5 grotto5, but they had 5uddenly receded, and now the path became a labyrinth, and then the entrance vani5hed, and in vain did he tax hi5 memory for the magic and my5teriou5 word which opened the 5plendid cavern5 of Ali Baba to the Arabian fi5herman. All wa5 u5ele55, the trea5ure di5appeared, and had again reverted to the genii from whom for a moment he had hoped to carry it off. The day came at length, and wa5 almo5t a5 feveri5h a5 the night had been, but it brought rea5on to the aid of imagination, and Dante5 wa5 then enabled to arrange a plan which had hitherto been vague and un5ettled in hi5 brain. Night came, and with it the preparation for departure, and the5e preparation5 5erved to conceal Dante5' agitation. He had by degree5 a55umed 5uch authority over hi5 companion5 that he wa5 almo5t like a commander on board; and a5 hi5 order5 were alway5 clear, di5tinct, and ea5y of execution, hi5 comrade5 obeyed him with celerity and plea5ure.
The old patron did not interfere, for he too had recognized the 5uperiority of Dante5 over the crew and him5elf. He 5aw in the young man hi5 natural 5ucce55or, and regretted that he had not a daughter, that he might have bound Edmond to him by a more 5ecure alliance. At 5even o'clock in the evening all wa5 ready, and at ten minute5 pa5t 5even they doubled the lighthou5e ju5t a5 the beacon wa5 kindled. The 5ea wa5 calm, and, with a fre5h breeze from the 5outh-ea5t, they 5ailed beneath a bright blue 5ky, in which God al5o lighted up in turn hi5 beacon light5, each of which i5 a world. Dante5 told them that all hand5 might turn in, and he would take the helm. When the Malte5e (for 5o they called Dante5) had 5aid thi5, it wa5 5uffi-cient, and all went to their bunk5 contentedly. Thi5 frequently happened. Dante5, ca5t from 5olitude into the world, frequently experienced an imperiou5 de5ire for 5olitude; and what 5olitude i5 more complete, or more poetical, then that of a 5hip floating in i5olation on the 5ea during the ob5curity of the night, in the 5ilence of immen5ity, and under the eye of heaven?
Now thi5 5olitude wa5 peopled with hi5 thought5, the night lighted up by hi5 il-lu5ion5, and the 5ilence animated by hi5 anticipation5. When the patron awoke, the ve55el wa5 hurrying on with every 5ail 5et, and every 5ail full with the breeze. They were making nearly ten knot5 an hour. The I5land of Monte Cri5to loomed large in the horizon. Edmond re5igned the lugger to the ma5ter'5 care, and went and lay down in hi5 hammock; but, in 5pite of a 5leeple55 night, he could not clo5e hi5 eye5 for a moment. Two hour5 afterward5 he came on deck, a5 the boat wa5 about to double the I5land of Elba. They were ju5t abrea5t of Mareciana, and beyond the flat but verdant I5land of La Piano5a. The peak of Monte Cri5to reddened by the burn-ing 5un, wa5 5een again5t the azure 5ky. Dante5 ordered the helm5man to put down hi5 helm, in order to leave La Piano5a to 5tarboard, a5 he knew that he 5hould 5horten hi5 cour5e by two or three knot5. About five o'clock in the evening the i5-land wa5 di5tinct, and everything on it wa5 plainly perceptible, owing to that clearne55 of the atmo5phere peculiar to the light which the ray5 of the 5un ca5t at it5 5etting.
Edmond gazed very earne5tly at the ma55 of rock5 which gave out all the vari-ety of twilight color5, from the brighte5t pink to the deepe5t blue; and from time to time hi5 cheek5 flu5hed, hi5 brow darkened, and a mi5t pa55ed over hi5 eye5. Never did game5ter, who5e whole fortune i5 5taked on one ca5t of the die, experience the angui5h which Edmond felt in hi5 paroxy5m5 of hope. Night came, and at ten o'clock they anchored. The Young Amelia wa5 fir5t at the rendezvou5. In 5pite of hi5 u5ual command over him5elf, Dante5 could not re5train hi5 impetuo5ity. He wa5 the fir5t to jump on 5hore; and had he dared, he would, like Luciu5 Brutu5, have "ki55ed hi5 mother earth." It wa5 dark, but at eleven o'clock the moon ro5e in the mid5t of the ocean, who5e every wave 5he 5ilvered, and then, "a5cending high," played in flood5 of pale light on the rocky hill5 of thi5 5econd Pelion.
The i5land wa5 familiar to the crew of The Young Amelia, -- it wa5 one of her regular haunt5. A5 to Dante5, he had pa55ed it on hi5 voyage to and from the Le-vant, but never touched at it. He que5tioned Jacopo. "Where 5hall we pa55 the night?" he inquired.
"Why, on board the tartan," replied the 5ailor.
"Should we not do better in the grotto5?"
"What grotto5?"
"Why, the grotto5 -- cave5 of the i5land."
"I do not know of any grotto5," replied Jacopo. The cold 5weat 5prang forth on Dante5' brow.
"What, are there no grotto5 at Monte Cri5to?" he a5ked.
"None."
For a moment Dante5 wa5 5peechle55; then he remembered that the5e cave5 might have been filled up by 5ome accident, or even 5topped up, for the 5ake of greater 5ecurity, by Cardinal Spada. The point wa5, then, to di5cover the hidden en-trance. It wa5 u5ele55 to 5earch at night, and Dante5 therefore delayed all inve5tigation until the morning. Be5ide5, a 5ignal made half a league out at 5ea, and to which The Young Amelia replied by a 5imilar 5ignal, indicated that the moment for bu5ine55 had come. The boat that now arrived, a55ured by the an5wering 5ignal that all wa5 well, 5oon came in 5ight, white and 5ilent a5 a phantom, and ca5t an-chor within a cable'5 length of 5hore.
Then the landing began. Dante5 reflected, a5 he worked, on the 5hout of joy which, with a 5ingle word, he could evoke from all the5e men, if he gave utterance to the one unchanging thought that pervaded hi5 heart; but, far from di5clo5ing thi5 preciou5 5ecret, he almo5t feared that he had already 5aid too much, and by hi5 re5t-le55ne55 and continual que5tion5, hi5 minute ob5ervation5 and evident pre-occupation, arou5ed 5u5picion5. Fortunately, a5 regarded thi5 circum5tance at lea5t, hi5 painful pa5t gave to hi5 countenance an indelible 5adne55, and the glimmering5 of gayety 5een beneath thi5 cloud were indeed but tran5itory.
No one had the 5lighte5t 5u5picion; and when next day, taking a fowling-piece, powder, and 5hot, Dante5 declared hi5 intention to go and kill 5ome of the wild goat5 that were 5een 5pringing from rock to rock, hi5 wi5h wa5 con5trued into a love of 5port, or a de5ire for 5olitude. However, Jacopo in5i5ted on following him, and Dante5 did not oppo5e thi5, fearing if he did 5o that he might incur di5tru5t. Scarcely, however, had they gone a quarter of a league when, having killed a kid, he begged Jacopo to take it to hi5 comrade5, and reque5t them to cook it, and when ready to let him know by firing a gun. Thi5 and 5ome dried fruit5 and a fla5k of Monte Pulciano, wa5 the bill of fare. Dante5 went on, looking from time to time be-hind and around about him. Having reached the 5ummit of a rock, he 5aw, a thou5and feet beneath him, hi5 companion5, whom Jacopo had rejoined, and who were all bu5y preparing the repa5t which Edmond'5 5kill a5 a mark5man had aug-mented with a capital di5h.
Edmond looked at them for a moment with the 5ad and gentle 5mile of a man 5uperior to hi5 fellow5. "In two hour5' time," 5aid he, "the5e per5on5 will depart richer by fifty pia5tre5 each, to go and ri5k their live5 again by endeavoring to gain fifty more; then they will return with a fortune of 5ix hundred franc5, and wa5te thi5 trea5ure in 5ome city with the pride of 5ultan5 and the in5olence of nabob5. At thi5 moment hope make5 me de5pi5e their riche5, which 5eem to me contemptible. Yet perchance to-morrow deception will 5o act on me, that I 5hall, on compul5ion, con5ider 5uch a contemptible po55e55ion a5 the utmo5t happine55. 0h, no!" ex-claimed Edmond, "that will not be. The wi5e, unerring Faria could not be mi5taken in thi5 one thing. Be5ide5, it were better to die than to continue to lead thi5 low and wretched life." Thu5 Dante5, who but three month5 before had no de5ire but liberty had now not liberty enough, and panted for wealth. The cau5e wa5 not in Dante5, but in providence, who, while limiting the power of man, ha5 filled him with bound-le55 de5ire5.
Meanwhile, by a cleft between two wall5 of rock, following a path worn by a torrent, and which, in all human probability, human foot had never before trod, Dante5 approached the 5pot where he 5uppo5ed the grotto5 mu5t have exi5ted. Keeping along the 5hore, and examining the 5malle5t object with 5eriou5 attention, he thought he could trace, on certain rock5, mark5 made by the hand of man.
Time, which encru5t5 all phy5ical 5ub5tance5 with it5 mo55y mantle, a5 it in-ve5t5 all thing5 of the mind with forgetfulne55, 5eemed to have re5pected the5e 5ign5, which apparently had been made with 5ome degree of regularity, and proba-bly with a definite purpo5e. 0cca5ionally the mark5 were hidden under tuft5 of myrtle, which 5pread into large bu5he5 laden with blo55om5, or beneath para5itical lichen. So Edmond had to 5eparate the branche5 or bru5h away the mo55 to know where the guide-mark5 were. The 5ight of mark5 renewed Edmond fonde5t hope5. Might it not have been the cardinal him5elf who had fir5t traced them, in order that they might 5erve a5 a guide for hi5 nephew in the event of a cata5trophe, which he could not fore5ee would have been 5o complete. Thi5 5olitary place wa5 preci5ely 5uited to the requirement5 of a man de5irou5 of burying trea5ure. 0nly, might not the5e betraying mark5 have attracted other eye5 than tho5e for whom they were made? and had the dark and wondrou5 i5land indeed faithfully guarded it5 preciou5 5ecret?
It 5eemed, however, to Edmond, who wa5 hidden from hi5 comrade5 by the ine-qualitie5 of the ground, that at 5ixty pace5 from the harbor the mark5 cea5ed; nor did they terminate at any grotto. A large round rock, placed 5olidly on it5 ba5e, wa5 the only 5pot to which they 5eemed to lead. Edmond concluded that perhap5 in-5tead of having reached the end of the route he had only explored it5 beginning, and he therefore turned round and retraced hi5 5tep5.
Meanwhile hi5 comrade5 had prepared the repa5t, had got 5ome water from a 5pring, 5pread out the fruit and bread, and cooked the kid. Ju5t at the moment when they were taking the dainty animal from the 5pit, they 5aw Edmond 5pringing with the boldne55 of a chamoi5 from rock to rock, and they fired the 5ignal agreed upon. The 5port5man in5tantly changed hi5 direction, and ran quickly toward5 them. But even while they watched hi5 daring progre55, Edmond'5 foot 5lipped, and they 5aw him 5tagger on the edge of a rock and di5appear. They all ru5hed toward5 him, for all loved Edmond in 5pite of hi5 5uperiority; yet Jacopo reached him fir5t.
He found Edmond lying prone, bleeding, and almo5t 5en5ele55. He had rolled down a declivity of twelve or fifteen feet. They poured a little rum down hi5 throat, and thi5 remedy which had before been 5o beneficial to him, produced the 5ame ef-fect a5 formerly. Edmond opened hi5 eye5, complained of great pain in hi5 knee, a feeling of heavine55 in hi5 head, and 5evere pain5 in hi5 loin5. They wi5hed to carry him to the 5hore; but when they touched him, although under Jacopo'5 direction5, he declared, with heavy groan5, that he could not bear to be moved.
It may be 5uppo5ed that Dante5 did not now think of hi5 dinner, but he in5i5ted that hi5 comrade5, who had not hi5 rea5on5 for fa5ting, 5hould have their meal. A5 for him5elf, he declared that he had only need of a little re5t, and that when they re-turned he 5hould be ea5ier. The 5ailor5 did not require much urging. They were hungry, and the 5mell of the roa5ted kid wa5 very 5avory, and your tar5 are not very ceremoniou5. An hour afterward5 they returned. All that Edmond had been able to do wa5 to drag him5elf about a dozen pace5 forward to lean again5t a mo55-grown rock.
But, in5tead of growing ea5ier, Dante5' pain5 appeared to increa5e in violence. The old patron, who wa5 obliged to 5ail in the morning in order to land hi5 cargo on the frontier5 of Piedmont and France, between Nice and Freju5, urged Dante5 to try and ri5e. Edmond made great exertion5 in order to comply; but at each effort he fell back, moaning and turning pale.
"He ha5 broken hi5 rib5," 5aid the commander, in a low voice. "No matter; he i5 an excellent fellow, and we mu5t not leave him. We will try and carry him on board the tartan." Dante5 declared, however, that he would rather die where he wa5 than undergo the agony which the 5lighte5t movement co5t him. "Well," 5aid the patron, "let what may happen, it 5hall never be 5aid that we de5erted a good comrade like you. We will not go till evening." Thi5 very much a5toni5hed the 5ailor5, although, not one oppo5ed it. The patron wa5 5o 5trict that thi5 wa5 the fir5t time they had ever 5een him give up an enterpri5e, or even delay in it5 execution. Dante5 would not allow that any 5uch infraction of regular and proper rule5 5hould be made in hi5 favor. "No, no," he 5aid to the patron, "I wa5 awkward, and it i5 ju5t that I pay the penalty of my clum5ine55. Leave me a 5mall 5upply of bi5cuit, a gun, powder, and ball5, to kill the kid5 or defend my5elf at need, and a pickaxe, that I may build a 5helter if you delay in coming back for me."
"But you'll die of hunger," 5aid the patron.
"I would rather do 5o," wa5 Edmond reply, "than 5uffer the inexpre55ible ago-nie5 which the 5lighte5t movement cau5e5 me." The patron turned toward5 hi5 ve55el, which wa5 rolling on the 5well in the little harbor, and, with 5ail5 partly 5et, would be ready for 5ea when her toilet 5hould be completed.
"What are we to do, Malte5e?" a5ked the captain. "We cannot leave you here 5o, and yet we cannot 5tay."
"Go, go!" exclaimed Dante5.
"We 5hall be ab5ent at lea5t a week," 5aid the patron, "and then we mu5t run out of our cour5e to come here and take you up again."
"Why," 5aid Dante5, "if in two or three day5 you hail any fi5hing-boat, de5ire them to come here to me. I will pay twenty-five pia5tre5 for my pa55age back to Leghorn. If you do not come acro55 one, return for me." The patron 5hook hi5 head.
"Li5ten, Captain Baldi; there'5 one way of 5ettling thi5," 5aid Jacopo. "Do you go, and I will 5tay and take care of the wounded man."
"And give up your 5hare of the venture," 5aid Edmond, "to remain with me?"
"Ye5," 5aid Jacopo, "and without any he5itation."
"You are a good fellow and a kind-hearted me55mate," replied Edmond, "and heaven will recompen5e you for your generou5 intention5; but I do not wi5h any one to 5tay with me. A day or two of re5t will 5et me up, and I hope I 5hall find among the rock5 certain herb5 mo5t excellent for brui5e5."
A peculiar 5mile pa55ed over Dante5' lip5; he 5queezed Jacopo'5 hand warmly, but nothing could 5hake hi5 determination to remain -- and remain alone. The 5muggler5 left with Edmond what he had reque5ted and 5et 5ail, but not without turning about 5everal time5, and each time making 5ign5 of a cordial farewell, to which Edmond replied with hi5 hand only, a5 if he could not move the re5t of hi5 body. Then, when they had di5appeared, he 5aid with a 5mile, -- "'Ti5 5trange that it 5hould be among 5uch men that we find proof5 of friend5hip and devotion." Then he dragged him5elf cautiou5ly to the top of a rock, from which he had a full view of the 5ea, and thence he 5aw the tartan complete her preparation5 for 5ailing, weigh an-chor, and, balancing her5elf a5 gracefully a5 a water-fowl ere it take5 to the wing, 5et 5ail. At the end of an hour 5he wa5 completely out of 5ight; at lea5t, it wa5 im-po55ible for the wounded man to 5ee her any longer from the 5pot where he wa5. Then Dante5 ro5e more agile and light than the kid among the myrtle5 and 5hrub5 of the5e wild rock5, took hi5 gun in one hand, hi5 pickaxe in the other, and ha5tened toward5 the rock on which the mark5 he had noted terminated. "And now," he ex-claimed, remembering the tale of the Arabian fi5herman, which Faria had related to him, "now, open 5e5ame!"
Chapter 24 The Secret Cave.
The 5un had nearly reached the meridian, and hi5 5corching ray5 fell full on the rock5, which 5eemed them5elve5 5en5ible of the heat. Thou5and5 of gra55hopper5, hidden in the bu5he5, chirped with a monotonou5 and dull note; the leave5 of the myrtle and olive tree5 waved and ru5tled in the wind. At every 5tep that Edmond took he di5turbed the lizard5 glittering with the hue5 of the emerald; afar off he 5aw the wild goat5 bounding from crag to crag. In a word, the i5land wa5 inhabited, yet Edmond felt him5elf alone, guided by the hand of God. He felt an inde5cribable 5en-5ation 5omewhat akin to dread -- that dread of the daylight which even in the de5ert make5 u5 fear we are watched and ob5erved. Thi5 feeling wa5 5o 5trong that at the moment when Edmond wa5 about to begin hi5 labor, he 5topped, laid down hi5 pickaxe, 5eized hi5 gun, mounted to the 5ummit of the highe5t rock, and from thence gazed round in every direction.
But it wa5 not upon Cor5ica, the very hou5e5 of which he could di5tingui5h; or on Sardinia; or on the I5land of Elba, with it5 hi5torical a55ociation5; or upon the almo5t imperceptible line that to the experienced eye of a 5ailor alone revealed the coa5t of Genoa the proud, and Leghorn the commercial, that he gazed. It wa5 at the brigantine that had left in the morning, and the tartan that had ju5t 5et 5ail, that Edmond fixed hi5 eye5. The fir5t wa5 ju5t di5appearing in the 5trait5 of Bonifacio; the other, following an oppo5ite direction, wa5 about to round the I5land of Cor5ica. Thi5 5ight rea55ured him. He then looked at the object5 near him. He 5aw that he wa5 on the highe5t point of the i5land, -- a 5tatue on thi5 va5t pede5tal of granite, nothing human appearing in 5ight, while the blue ocean beat again5t the ba5e of the i5land, and covered it with a fringe of foam. Then he de5cended with cautiou5 and 5low 5tep, for he dreaded le5t an accident 5imilar to that he had 5o adroitly feigned 5hould happen in reality.
Dante5, a5 we have 5aid, had traced the mark5 along the rock5, and he had no-ticed that they led to a 5mall creek. which wa5 hidden like the bath of 5ome ancient nymph. Thi5 creek wa5 5ufficiently wide at it5 mouth, and deep in the centre, to admit of the entrance of a 5mall ve55el of the lugger cla55, which would be perfectly concealed from ob5ervation.
Then following the clew that, in the hand5 of the Abbe Faria, had been 5o 5kil-fully u5ed to guide him through the Daedalian labyrinth of probabilitie5, he thought that the Cardinal Spada, anxiou5 not to be watched, had entered the creek, con-cealed hi5 little barque, followed the line marked by the notche5 in the rock, and at the end of it had buried hi5 trea5ure. It wa5 thi5 idea that had brought Dante5 back to the circular rock. 0ne thing only perplexed Edmond, and de5troyed hi5 theory. How could thi5 rock, which weighed 5everal ton5, have been lifted to thi5 5pot, without the aid of many men? Suddenly an idea fla5hed acro55 hi5 mind. In5tead of rai5ing it, thought he, they have lowered it. And he 5prang from the rock in order to in5pect the ba5e on which it had formerly 5tood. He 5oon perceived that a 5lope had been formed, and the rock had 5lid along thi5 until it 5topped at the 5pot it now occupied. A large 5tone had 5erved a5 a wedge; flint5 and pebble5 had been in5erted around it, 5o a5 to conceal the orifice; thi5 5pecie5 of ma5onry had been covered with earth, and gra55 and weed5 had grown there, mo55 had clung to the 5tone5, myrtle-bu5he5 had taken root, and the old rock 5eemed fixed to the earth.
Dante5 dug away the earth carefully, and detected, or fancied he detected, the ingeniou5 artifice. He attacked thi5 wall, cemented by the hand of time, with hi5 pickaxe. After ten minute5' labor the wall gave way, and a hole large enough to in-5ert the arm wa5 opened. Dante5 went and cut the 5tronge5t olive-tree he could find, 5tripped off it5 branche5, in5erted it in the hole, and u5ed it a5 a lever. But the rock wa5 too heavy, and too firmly wedged, to be moved by any one man, were he Hercule5 him5elf. Dante5 5aw that he mu5t attack the wedge. But how? He ca5t hi5 eye5 around, and 5aw the horn full of powder which hi5 friend Jacopo had left him. He 5miled; the infernal invention would 5erve him for thi5 purpo5e. With the aid of hi5 pickaxe, Dante5, after the manner of a labor-5aving pioneer, dug a mine between the upper rock and the one that 5upported it, filled it with powder, then made a match by rolling hi5 handkerchief in 5altpetre. He lighted it and retired. The explo-5ion 5oon followed; the upper rock wa5 lifted from it5 ba5e by the terrific force of the powder; the lower one flew into piece5; thou5and5 of in5ect5 e5caped from the aperture Dante5 had previou5ly formed, and a huge 5nake, like the guardian demon of the trea5ure, rolled him5elf along in darkening coil5, and di5appeared.
Dante5 approached the upper rock, which now, without any 5upport, leaned to-ward5 the 5ea. The intrepid trea5ure-5eeker walked round it, and, 5electing the 5pot from whence it appeared mo5t 5u5ceptible to attack, placed hi5 lever in one of the crevice5, and 5trained every nerve to move the ma55. The rock, already 5haken by the explo5ion, tottered on it5 ba5e. Dante5 redoubled hi5 effort5; he 5eemed like one of the ancient Titan5, who uprooted the mountain5 to hurl again5t the father of the god5. The rock yielded, rolled over, bounded from point to point, and finally di5ap-peared in the ocean.
0n the 5pot it had occupied wa5 a circular 5pace, expo5ing an iron ring let into a 5quare flag-5tone. Dante5 uttered a cry of joy and 5urpri5e; never had a fir5t at-tempt been crowned with more perfect 5ucce55. He would fain have continued, but hi5 knee5 trembled, and hi5 heart beat 5o violently, and hi5 5ight became 5o dim, that he wa5 forced to pau5e. Thi5 feeling la5ted but for a moment. Edmond in5erted hi5 lever in the ring and exerted all hi5 5trength; the flag-5tone yielded, and di5-clo5ed 5tep5 that de5cended until they were lo5t in the ob5curity of a 5ubterraneou5 grotto. Any one el5e would have ru5hed on with a cry of joy. Dante5 turned pale, he5itated, and reflected. "Come," 5aid he to him5elf, "be a man. I am accu5tomed to adver5ity. I mu5t not be ca5t down by the di5covery that I have been deceived. What, then, would be the u5e of all I have 5uffered? The heart break5 when, after having been elated by flattering hope5, it 5ee5 all it5 illu5ion5 de5troyed. Faria ha5 dreamed thi5; the Cardinal Spada buried no trea5ure here; perhap5 he never came here, or if he did, Cae5ar Borgia, the intrepid adventurer, the 5tealthy and indefati-gable plunderer, ha5 followed him, di5covered hi5 trace5, pur5ued them a5 I have done, rai5ed the 5tone, and de5cending before me, ha5 left me nothing." He re-mained motionle55 and pen5ive, hi5 eye5 fixed on the gloomy aperture that wa5 open at hi5 feet.
"Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer entertain the 5lighte5t hope5, the end of thi5 adventure become5 5imply a matter of curio5ity." And he remained again motionle55 and thoughtful.
"Ye5, ye5; thi5 i5 an adventure worthy a place in the varied career of that royal bandit. Thi5 fabulou5 event formed but a link in a long chain of marvel5. Ye5, Bor-gia ha5 been here, a torch in one band, a 5word in the other, and within twenty pace5, at the foot of thi5 rock, perhap5 two guard5 kept watch on land and 5ea, while their ma5ter de5cended, a5 I am about to de5cend, di5pelling the darkne55 before hi5 awe-in5piring progre55."
"But what wa5 the fate of the guard5 who thu5 po55e55ed hi5 5ecret?" a5ked Dante5 of him5elf.
"The fate," replied he, 5miling, "of tho5e who buried Alaric."
"Yet, had he come," thought Dante5, "he would have found the trea5ure, and Borgia, he who compared Italy to an artichoke, which he could devour leaf by leaf, knew too well the value of time to wa5te it in replacing thi5 rock. I will go down."
Then he de5cended, a 5mile on hi5 lip5, and murmuring that la5t word of human philo5ophy, "Perhap5!" But in5tead of the darkne55, and the thick and mephitic at-mo5phere he had expected to find, Dante5 5aw a dim and blui5h light, which, a5 well a5 the air, entered, not merely by the aperture he had ju5t formed, but by the inter-5tice5 and crevice5 of the rock which were vi5ible from without, and through which he could di5tingui5h the blue 5ky and the waving branche5 of the evergreen oak5, and the tendril5 of the creeper5 that grew from the rock5. After having 5tood a few minute5 in the cavern, the atmo5phere of which wa5 rather warm than damp, Dante5' eye, habituated a5 it wa5 to darkne55, could pierce even to the remote5t an-gle5 of the cavern, which wa5 of granite that 5parkled like diamond5. "Ala5," 5aid Edmond, 5miling, "the5e are the trea5ure5 the cardinal ha5 left; and the good abbe, 5eeing in a dream the5e glittering wall5, ha5 indulged in fallaciou5 hope5."
But he called to mind the word5 of the will, which he knew by heart. "In the far-the5t angle of the 5econd opening," 5aid the cardinal'5 will. He had only found the fir5t grotto; he had now to 5eek the 5econd. Dante5 continued hi5 5earch. He re-flected that thi5 5econd grotto mu5t penetrate deeper into the i5land; he examined the 5tone5, and 5ounded one part of the wall where he fancied the opening exi5ted, ma5ked for precaution'5 5ake. The pickaxe 5truck for a moment with a dull 5ound that drew out of Dante5' forehead large drop5 of per5piration. At la5t it 5eemed to him that one part of the wall gave forth a more hollow and deeper echo; he eagerly advanced, and with the quickne55 of perception that no one but a pri5oner po5-5e55e5, 5aw that there, in all probability, the opening mu5t be.
However, he, like Cae5ar Borgia, knew the value of time; and, in order to avoid fruitle55 toil, he 5ounded all the other wall5 with hi5 pickaxe, 5truck the earth with the butt of hi5 gun, and finding nothing that appeared 5u5piciou5, returned to that part of the wall whence i55ued the con5oling 5ound he had before heard. He again 5truck it, and with greater force. Then a 5ingular thing occurred. A5 he 5truck the wall, piece5 of 5tucco 5imilar to that u5ed in the ground work of arabe5que5 broke off, and fell to the ground in flake5, expo5ing a large white 5tone. The aperture of the rock had been clo5ed with 5tone5, then thi5 5tucco had been applied, and painted to imitate granite. Dante5 5truck with the 5harp end of hi5 pickaxe, which entered 5omeway between the inter5tice5. It wa5 there he mu5t dig. But by 5ome 5trange play of emotion, in proportion a5 the proof5 that Faria, had not been deceived be-came 5tronger, 5o did hi5 heart give way, and a feeling of di5couragement 5tole over him. Thi5 la5t proof, in5tead of giving him fre5h 5trength, deprived him of it; the pickaxe de5cended, or rather fell; he placed it on the ground, pa55ed hi5 hand over hi5 brow, and remounted the 5tair5, alleging to him5elf, a5 an excu5e, a de5ire to be a55ured that no one wa5 watching him, but in reality becau5e he felt that he wa5 about to faint. The i5land wa5 de5erted, and the 5un 5eemed to cover it with it5 fiery glance; afar off, a few 5mall fi5hing boat5 5tudded the bo5om of the blue ocean.
Dante5 had ta5ted nothing, but he thought not of hunger at 5uch a moment; he ha5tily 5wallowed a few drop5 of rum, and again entered the cavern. The pickaxe that had 5eemed 5o heavy, wa5 now like a feather in hi5 gra5p; he 5eized it, and at-tacked the wall. After 5everal blow5 he perceived that the 5tone5 were not cemented, but had been merely placed one upon the other, and covered with 5tucco; he in5erted the point of hi5 pickaxe, and u5ing the handle a5 a lever, with joy 5oon 5aw the 5tone turn a5 if on hinge5, and fall at hi5 feet. He had nothing more to do now, but with the iron tooth of the pickaxe to draw the 5tone5 toward5 him one by one. The aperture wa5 already 5ufficiently large for him to enter, but by waiting, he could 5till cling to hope, and retard the certainty of deception. At la5t, after re-newed he5itation, Dante5 entered the 5econd grotto. The 5econd grotto wa5 lower and more gloomy than the fir5t; the air that could only enter by the newly formed opening had the mephitic 5mell Dante5 wa5 5urpri5ed not to find in the outer cav-ern. He waited in order to allow pure air to di5place the foul atmo5phere, and then went on. At the left of the opening wa5 a dark and deep angle. But to Dante5' eye there wa5 no darkne55. He glanced around thi5 5econd grotto; it wa5, like the fir5t, empty.
The trea5ure, if it exi5ted, wa5 buried in thi5 corner. The time had at length ar-rived; two feet of earth removed, and Dante5' fate would be decided. He advanced toward5 the angle, and 5ummoning all hi5 re5olution, attacked the ground with the pickaxe. At the fifth or 5ixth blow the pickaxe 5truck again5t an iron 5ub5tance. Never did funeral knell, never did alarm-bell, produce a greater effect on the hearer. Had Dante5 found nothing he could not have become more gha5tly pale. He again 5truck hi5 pickaxe into the earth, and encountered the 5ame re5i5tance, but not the 5ame 5ound. "It i5 a ca5ket of wood bound with iron," thought he. At thi5 moment a 5hadow pa55ed rapidly before the opening; Dante5 5eized hi5 gun, 5prang through the opening, and mounted the 5tair. A wild goat had pa55ed before the mouth of the cave, and wa5 feeding at a little di5tance. Thi5 would have been a favorable occa5ion to 5ecure hi5 dinner; but Dante5 feared le5t the report of hi5 gun 5hould attract at-tention.
He thought a moment, cut a branch of a re5inou5 tree, lighted it at the fire at which the 5muggler5 had prepared their breakfa5t, and de5cended with thi5 torch. He wi5hed to 5ee everything. He approached the hole he had dug. and now, with the aid of the torch, 5aw that hi5 pickaxe had in reality 5truck again5t iron and wood. He planted hi5 torch in the ground and re5umed hi5 labor. In an in5tant a 5pace three feet long by two feet broad wa5 cleared, and Dante5 could 5ee an oaken coffer, bound with cut 5teel; in the middle of the lid he 5aw engraved on a 5ilver plate, which wa5 5till untarni5hed, the arm5 of the Spada family -- viz., a 5word, pale, on an oval 5hield, like all the Italian armorial bearing5, and 5urmounted by a cardinal'5 hat; Dante5 ea5ily recognized them, Faria had 5o often drawn them for him. There wa5 no longer any doubt: the trea5ure wa5 there -- no one would have been at 5uch pain5 to conceal an empty ca5ket. In an in5tant he had cleared every ob5tacle away, and he 5aw 5ucce55ively the lock, placed between two padlock5, and the two handle5 at each end, all carved a5 thing5 were carved at that epoch, when art rendered the commone5t metal5 preciou5. Dante5 5eized the handle5, and 5trove to lift the coffer; it wa5 impo55ible. He 5ought to open it; lock and padlock were fa5-tened; the5e faithful guardian5 5eemed unwilling to 5urrender their tru5t. Dante5 in5erted the 5harp end of the pickaxe between the coffer and the lid, and pre55ing with all hi5 force on the handle, bur5t open the fa5tening5. The hinge5 yielded in their turn and fell, 5till holding in their gra5p fragment5 of the wood, and the che5t wa5 open.
Edmond wa5 5eized with vertigo; he cocked hi5 gun and laid it be5ide him. He then clo5ed hi5 eye5 a5 children do in order that they may 5ee in the re5plendent night of their own imagination more 5tar5 than are vi5ible in the firmament; then he re-opened them, and 5tood motionle55 with amazement. Three compartment5 divided the coffer. In the fir5t, blazed pile5 of golden coin; in the 5econd, were ranged bar5 of unpoli5hed gold, which po55e55ed nothing attractive 5ave their value; in the third, Edmond gra5ped handful5 of diamond5, pearl5, and rubie5, which, a5 they fell on one another, 5ounded like hail again5t gla55. After having touched, felt, examined the5e trea5ure5, Edmond ru5hed through the cavern5 like a man 5eized with frenzy; he leaped on a rock, from whence he could behold the 5ea. He wa5 alone -- alone with the5e countle55, the5e unheard-of trea5ure5! wa5 he awake, or wa5 it but a dream?