The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated

  Chapter 116. The Pardon

  The next day Danglars was again hungry; certainly the air of thatdungeon was very provocative of appetite. The prisoner expected that hewould be at no expense that day, for like an economical man he hadconcealed half of his fowl and a piece of the bread in the corner of hiscell. But he had no sooner eaten than he felt thirsty; he had forgottenthat. He struggled against his thirst till his tongue clave to the roofof his mouth; then, no longer able to resist, he called out. Thesentinel opened the door; it was a new face. He thought it would bebetter to transact business with his old acquaintance, so he sent forPeppino.

  “Here I am, your excellency,” said Peppino, with an eagerness whichDanglars thought favorable to him. “What do you want?”

  “Something to drink.”

  “Your excellency knows that wine is beyond all price near Rome.”

  “Then give me water,” cried Danglars, endeavoring to parry the blow.

  “Oh, water is even more scarce than wine, your excellency,—there hasbeen such a drought.”

  “Come,” thought Danglars, “it is the same old story.” And while hesmiled as he attempted to regard the affair as a joke, he felt histemples get moist with perspiration.

  “Come, my friend,” said Danglars, seeing that he made no impression onPeppino, “you will not refuse me a glass of wine?”

  “I have already told you that we do not sell at retail.”

  “Well, then, let me have a bottle of the least expensive.”

  “They are all the same price.”

  “And what is that?”

  “Twenty-five thousand francs a bottle.”

  “Tell me,” cried Danglars, in a tone whose bitterness Harpagon30 alonehas been capable of revealing—“tell me that you wish to despoil me ofall; it will be sooner over than devouring me piecemeal.”

  “It is possible such may be the master’s intention.”

  “The master?—who is he?”

  “The person to whom you were conducted yesterday.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Here.”

  “Let me see him.”

  “Certainly.”

  And the next moment Luigi Vampa appeared before Danglars.

  “You sent for me?” he said to the prisoner.

  “Are you, sir, the chief of the people who brought me here?”

  “Yes, your excellency. What then?”

  “How much do you require for my ransom?”

  “Merely the 5,000,000 you have about you.” Danglars felt a dreadfulspasm dart through his heart.

  “But this is all I have left in the world,” he said, “out of an immensefortune. If you deprive me of that, take away my life also.”

  “We are forbidden to shed your blood.”

  “And by whom are you forbidden?”

  “By him we obey.”

  “You do, then, obey someone?”

  “Yes, a chief.”

  “I thought you said you were the chief?”

  “So I am of these men; but there is another over me.”

  “And did your superior order you to treat me in this way?”

  “Yes.”

  “But my purse will be exhausted.”

  “Probably.”

  “Come,” said Danglars, “will you take a million?”

  “No.”

  “Two millions?—three?—four? Come, four? I will give them to you oncondition that you let me go.”

  “Why do you offer me 4,000,000 for what is worth 5,000,000? This is akind of usury, banker, that I do not understand.”

  “Take all, then—take all, I tell you, and kill me!”

  “Come, come, calm yourself. You will excite your blood, and that wouldproduce an appetite it would require a million a day to satisfy. Be moreeconomical.”

  “But when I have no more money left to pay you?” asked the infuriatedDanglars.

  “Then you must suffer hunger.”

  “Suffer hunger?” said Danglars, becoming pale.

  “Most likely,” replied Vampa coolly.

  “But you say you do not wish to kill me?”

  “No.”

  “And yet you will let me perish with hunger?”

  “Ah, that is a different thing.”

  “Well, then, wretches,” cried Danglars, “I will defy your infamouscalculations—I would rather die at once! You may torture, torment, killme, but you shall not have my signature again!”

  “As your excellency pleases,” said Vampa, as he left the cell.

  Danglars, raving, threw himself on the goat-skin. Who could these menbe? Who was the invisible chief? What could be his intentions towardshim? And why, when everyone else was allowed to be ransomed, might henot also be? Oh, yes; certainly a speedy, violent death would be a finemeans of deceiving these remorseless enemies, who appeared to pursue himwith such incomprehensible vengeance. But to die? For the first time inhis life, Danglars contemplated death with a mixture of dread anddesire; the time had come when the implacable spectre, which exists inthe mind of every human creature, arrested his attention and called outwith every pulsation of his heart, “Thou shalt die!”

  Danglars resembled a timid animal excited in the chase; first it flies,then despairs, and at last, by the very force of desperation, sometimessucceeds in eluding its pursuers. Danglars meditated an escape; but thewalls were solid rock, a man was sitting reading at the only outlet tothe cell, and behind that man shapes armed with guns continually passed.His resolution not to sign lasted two days, after which he offered amillion for some food. They sent him a magnificent supper, and took hismillion.

  From this time the prisoner resolved to suffer no longer, but to haveeverything he wanted. At the end of twelve days, after having made asplendid dinner, he reckoned his accounts, and found that he had only50,000 francs left. Then a strange reaction took place; he who had justabandoned 5,000,000 endeavored to save the 50,000 francs he had left,and sooner than give them up he resolved to enter again upon a life ofprivation—he was deluded by the hopefulness that is a premonition ofmadness.

  He, who for so long a time had forgotten God, began to think thatmiracles were possible—that the accursed cavern might be discovered bythe officers of the Papal States, who would release him; that then hewould have 50,000 remaining, which would be sufficient to save him fromstarvation; and finally he prayed that this sum might be preserved tohim, and as he prayed he wept. Three days passed thus, during which hisprayers were frequent, if not heartfelt. Sometimes he was delirious, andfancied he saw an old man stretched on a pallet; he, also, was dying ofhunger.

  On the fourth, he was no longer a man, but a living corpse. He hadpicked up every crumb that had been left from his former meals, and wasbeginning to eat the matting which covered the floor of his cell. Thenhe entreated Peppino, as he would a guardian angel, to give him food; heoffered him 1,000 francs for a mouthful of bread. But Peppino did notanswer. On the fifth day he dragged himself to the door of the cell.

  “Are you not a Christian?” he said, falling on his knees. “Do you wishto assassinate a man who, in the eyes of Heaven, is a brother? Oh, myformer friends, my former friends!” he murmured, and fell with his faceto the ground. Then rising in despair, he exclaimed, “The chief, thechief!”

  “Here I am,” said Vampa, instantly appearing; “what do you want?”

  “Take my last gold,” muttered Danglars, holding out his pocket-book,“and let me live here; I ask no more for liberty—I only ask to live!”

  “Then you suffer a great deal?”

  “Oh, yes, yes, cruelly!”

  “Still, there have been men who suffered more than you.”

  “I do not think so.”

  “Yes; those who have died of hunger.”

  Danglars thought of the old man whom, in his hours of delirium, he hadseen groaning on his bed. He struck his forehead on the ground andgroaned. “Yes,” he said, “there have been some who have suffered morethan I have, but then they must have been martyrs at least.”
br />   “Do you repent?” asked a deep, solemn voice, which caused Danglars’ hairto stand on end. His feeble eyes endeavored to distinguish objects, andbehind the bandit he saw a man enveloped in a cloak, half lost in theshadow of a stone column.

  “Of what must I repent?” stammered Danglars.

  “Of the evil you have done,” said the voice.

  “Oh, yes; oh, yes, I do indeed repent.” And he struck his breast withhis emaciated fist.

  “Then I forgive you,” said the man, dropping his cloak, and advancing tothe light.

  “The Count of Monte Cristo!” said Danglars, more pale from terror thanhe had been just before from hunger and misery.

  “You are mistaken—I am not the Count of Monte Cristo.”

  “Then who are you?”

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  “I am he whom you sold and dishonored—I am he whose betrothed youprostituted—I am he upon whom you trampled that you might raise yourselfto fortune—I am he whose father you condemned to die of hunger—I am hewhom you also condemned to starvation, and who yet forgives you, becausehe hopes to be forgiven—I am Edmond Dantès!”

  Danglars uttered a cry, and fell prostrate.

  “Rise,” said the count, “your life is safe; the same good fortune hasnot happened to your accomplices—one is mad, the other dead. Keep the50,000 francs you have left—I give them to you. The 5,000,000 you stolefrom the hospitals has been restored to them by an unknown hand. And noweat and drink; I will entertain you tonight. Vampa, when this man issatisfied, let him be free.”

  Danglars remained prostrate while the count withdrew; when he raised hishead he saw disappearing down the passage nothing but a shadow, beforewhich the bandits bowed.

  According to the count’s directions, Danglars was waited on by Vampa,who brought him the best wine and fruits of Italy; then, havingconducted him to the road, and pointed to the post-chaise, left himleaning against a tree. He remained there all night, not knowing wherehe was. When daylight dawned he saw that he was near a stream; he wasthirsty, and dragged himself towards it. As he stooped down to drink, hesaw that his hair had become entirely white.