Chapter 24. The Secret Cave
The sun had nearly reached the meridian, and his scorching rays fellfull on the rocks, which seemed themselves sensible of the heat.Thousands of grasshoppers, hidden in the bushes, chirped with amonotonous and dull note; the leaves of the myrtle and olive trees wavedand rustled in the wind. At every step that Edmond took he disturbed thelizards glittering with the hues of the emerald; afar off he saw thewild goats bounding from crag to crag. In a word, the island wasinhabited, yet Edmond felt himself alone, guided by the hand of God.
He felt an indescribable sensation somewhat akin to dread—that dread ofthe daylight which even in the desert makes us fear we are watched andobserved. This feeling was so strong that at the moment when Edmond wasabout to begin his labor, he stopped, laid down his pickaxe, seized hisgun, mounted to the summit of the highest rock, and from thence gazedround in every direction.
But it was not upon Corsica, the very houses of which he coulddistinguish; or on Sardinia; or on the Island of Elba, with itshistorical associations; or upon the almost imperceptible line that tothe experienced eye of a sailor alone revealed the coast of Genoa theproud, and Leghorn the commercial, that he gazed. It was at thebrigantine that had left in the morning, and the tartan that had justset sail, that Edmond fixed his eyes.
The first was just disappearing in the straits of Bonifacio; the other,following an opposite direction, was about to round the Island ofCorsica.
This sight reassured him. He then looked at the objects near him. He sawthat he was on the highest point of the island,—a statue on this vastpedestal of granite, nothing human appearing in sight, while the blueocean beat against the base of the island, and covered it with a fringeof foam. Then he descended with cautious and slow step, for he dreadedlest an accident similar to that he had so adroitly feigned shouldhappen in reality.
Dantès, as we have said, had traced the marks along the rocks, and hehad noticed that they led to a small creek, which was hidden like thebath of some ancient nymph. This creek was sufficiently wide at itsmouth, and deep in the centre, to admit of the entrance of a smallvessel of the lugger class, which would be perfectly concealed fromobservation.
Then following the clew that, in the hands of the Abbé Faria, had beenso skilfully used to guide him through the Dædalian labyrinth ofprobabilities, he thought that the Cardinal Spada, anxious not to bewatched, had entered the creek, concealed his little barque, followedthe line marked by the notches in the rock, and at the end of it hadburied his treasure. It was this idea that had brought Dantès back tothe circular rock. One thing only perplexed Edmond, and destroyed histheory. How could this rock, which weighed several tons, have beenlifted to this spot, without the aid of many men?
Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind. Instead of raising it, thoughthe, they have lowered it. And he sprang from the rock in order toinspect the base on which it had formerly stood.
He soon perceived that a slope had been formed, and the rock had slidalong this until it stopped at the spot it now occupied. A large stonehad served as a wedge; flints and pebbles had been inserted around it,so as to conceal the orifice; this species of masonry had been coveredwith earth, and grass and weeds had grown there, moss had clung to thestones, myrtle-bushes had taken root, and the old rock seemed fixed tothe earth.
0301m
Dantès dug away the earth carefully, and detected, or fancied hedetected, the ingenious artifice. He attacked this wall, cemented by thehand of time, with his pickaxe. After ten minutes’ labor the wall gaveway, and a hole large enough to insert the arm was opened.
Dantès went and cut the strongest olive-tree he could find, stripped offits branches, inserted it in the hole, and used it as a lever. But therock was too heavy, and too firmly wedged, to be moved by anyone man,were he Hercules himself. Dantès saw that he must attack the wedge. Buthow?
He cast his eyes around, and saw the horn full of powder which hisfriend Jacopo had left him. He smiled; the infernal invention wouldserve him for this purpose.
With the aid of his pickaxe, Dantès, after the manner of a labor-savingpioneer, dug a mine between the upper rock and the one that supportedit, filled it with powder, then made a match by rolling his handkerchiefin saltpetre. He lighted it and retired.
The explosion soon followed; the upper rock was lifted from its base bythe terrific force of the powder; the lower one flew into pieces;thousands of insects escaped from the aperture Dantès had previouslyformed, and a huge snake, like the guardian demon of the treasure,rolled himself along in darkening coils, and disappeared.
Dantès approached the upper rock, which now, without any support, leanedtowards the sea. The intrepid treasure-seeker walked round it, and,selecting the spot from whence it appeared most susceptible to attack,placed his lever in one of the crevices, and strained every nerve tomove the mass.
The rock, already shaken by the explosion, tottered on its base. Dantèsredoubled his efforts; he seemed like one of the ancient Titans, whouprooted the mountains to hurl against the father of the gods. The rockyielded, rolled over, bounded from point to point, and finallydisappeared in the ocean.
On the spot it had occupied was a circular space, exposing an iron ringlet into a square flag-stone.
Dantès uttered a cry of joy and surprise; never had a first attempt beencrowned with more perfect success. He would fain have continued, but hisknees trembled, and his heart beat so violently, and his sight became sodim, that he was forced to pause.
This feeling lasted but for a moment. Edmond inserted his lever in thering and exerted all his strength; the flag-stone yielded, and disclosedsteps that descended until they were lost in the obscurity of asubterraneous grotto.
Anyone else would have rushed on with a cry of joy. Dantès turned pale,hesitated, and reflected.
“Come,” said he to himself, “be a man. I am accustomed to adversity. Imust not be cast down by the discovery that I have been deceived. What,then, would be the use of all I have suffered? The heart breaks when,after having been elated by flattering hopes, it sees all its illusionsdestroyed. Faria has dreamed this; the Cardinal Spada buried no treasurehere; perhaps he never came here, or if he did, Cæsar Borgia, theintrepid adventurer, the stealthy and indefatigable plunderer, hasfollowed him, discovered his traces, pursued them as I have done, raisedthe stone, and descending before me, has left me nothing.”
He remained motionless and pensive, his eyes fixed on the gloomyaperture that was open at his feet.
“Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer entertain the slightesthopes, the end of this adventure becomes simply a matter of curiosity.”And he remained again motionless and thoughtful.
“Yes, yes; this is an adventure worthy a place in the varied career ofthat royal bandit. This fabulous event formed but a link in a long chainof marvels. Yes, Borgia has been here, a torch in one hand, a sword inthe other, and within twenty paces, at the foot of this rock, perhapstwo guards kept watch on land and sea, while their master descended, asI am about to descend, dispelling the darkness before his awe-inspiringprogress.”
0303m
“But what was the fate of the guards who thus possessed his secret?”asked Dantès of himself.
“The fate,” replied he, smiling, “of those who buried Alaric, and wereinterred with the corpse.”
“Yet, had he come,” thought Dantès, “he would have found the treasure,and Borgia, he who compared Italy to an artichoke, which he could devourleaf by leaf, knew too well the value of time to waste it in replacingthis rock. I will go down.”
Then he descended, a smile on his lips, and murmuring that last word ofhuman philosophy, “Perhaps!”
But instead of the darkness, and the thick and mephitic atmosphere hehad expected to find, Dantès saw a dim and bluish light, which, as wellas the air, entered, not merely by the aperture he had just formed, butby the interstices and crevices of the rock which were visible fromwithout, and through which he could distinguish the blue sky and thewaving branches of
the evergreen oaks, and the tendrils of the creepersthat grew from the rocks.
After having stood a few minutes in the cavern, the atmosphere of whichwas rather warm than damp, Dantès’ eye, habituated as it was todarkness, could pierce even to the remotest angles of the cavern, whichwas of granite that sparkled like diamonds.
“Alas,” said Edmond, smiling, “these are the treasures the cardinal hasleft; and the good abbé, seeing in a dream these glittering walls, hasindulged in fallacious hopes.”
But he called to mind the words of the will, which he knew by heart. “Inthe farthest angle of the second opening,” said the cardinal’s will. Hehad only found the first grotto; he had now to seek the second. Dantèscontinued his search. He reflected that this second grotto mustpenetrate deeper into the island; he examined the stones, and soundedone part of the wall where he fancied the opening existed, masked forprecaution’s sake.
The pickaxe struck for a moment with a dull sound that drew out ofDantès’ forehead large drops of perspiration. At last it seemed to himthat one part of the wall gave forth a more hollow and deeper echo; heeagerly advanced, and with the quickness of perception that no one but aprisoner possesses, saw that there, in all probability, the opening mustbe.
However, he, like Cæsar Borgia, knew the value of time; and, in order toavoid fruitless toil, he sounded all the other walls with his pickaxe,struck the earth with the butt of his gun, and finding nothing thatappeared suspicious, returned to that part of the wall whence issued theconsoling sound he had before heard.
He again struck it, and with greater force. Then a singular thingoccurred. As he struck the wall, pieces of stucco similar to that usedin the ground work of arabesques broke off, and fell to the ground inflakes, exposing a large white stone. The aperture of the rock had beenclosed with stones, then this stucco had been applied, and painted toimitate granite. Dantès struck with the sharp end of his pickaxe, whichentered someway between the interstices.
It was there he must dig.
But by some strange play of emotion, in proportion as the proofs thatFaria, had not been deceived became stronger, so did his heart give way,and a feeling of discouragement stole over him. This last proof, insteadof giving him fresh strength, deprived him of it; the pickaxe descended,or rather fell; he placed it on the ground, passed his hand over hisbrow, and remounted the stairs, alleging to himself, as an excuse, adesire to be assured that no one was watching him, but in realitybecause he felt that he was about to faint.
The island was deserted, and the sun seemed to cover it with its fieryglance; afar off, a few small fishing boats studded the bosom of theblue ocean.
Dantès had tasted nothing, but he thought not of hunger at such amoment; he hastily swallowed a few drops of rum, and again entered thecavern.
The pickaxe that had seemed so heavy, was now like a feather in hisgrasp; he seized it, and attacked the wall. After several blows heperceived that the stones were not cemented, but had been merely placedone upon the other, and covered with stucco; he inserted the point ofhis pickaxe, and using the handle as a lever, with joy soon saw thestone turn as if on hinges, and fall at his feet.
He had nothing more to do now, but with the iron tooth of the pickaxe todraw the stones towards him one by one. The aperture was alreadysufficiently large for him to enter, but by waiting, he could stillcling to hope, and retard the certainty of deception. At last, afterrenewed hesitation, Dantès entered the second grotto.
The second grotto was lower and more gloomy than the first; the air thatcould only enter by the newly formed opening had the mephitic smellDantès was surprised not to find in the outer cavern. He waited in orderto allow pure air to displace the foul atmosphere, and then went on.
At the left of the opening was a dark and deep angle. But to Dantès’ eyethere was no darkness. He glanced around this second grotto; it was,like the first, empty.
The treasure, if it existed, was buried in this corner. The time had atlength arrived; two feet of earth removed, and Dantès’ fate would bedecided.
He advanced towards the angle, and summoning all his resolution,attacked the ground with the pickaxe. At the fifth or sixth blow thepickaxe struck against an iron substance. Never did funeral knell, neverdid alarm-bell, produce a greater effect on the hearer. Had Dantès foundnothing he could not have become more ghastly pale.
He again struck his pickaxe into the earth, and encountered the sameresistance, but not the same sound.
“It is a casket of wood bound with iron,” thought he.
At this moment a shadow passed rapidly before the opening; Dantès seizedhis gun, sprang through the opening, and mounted the stair. A wild goathad passed before the mouth of the cave, and was feeding at a littledistance. This would have been a favorable occasion to secure hisdinner; but Dantès feared lest the report of his gun should attractattention.
He thought a moment, cut a branch of a resinous tree, lighted it at thefire at which the smugglers had prepared their breakfast, and descendedwith this torch.
He wished to see everything. He approached the hole he had dug, and now,with the aid of the torch, saw that his pickaxe had in reality struckagainst iron and wood. He planted his torch in the ground and resumedhis labor.
In an instant a space three feet long by two feet broad was cleared, andDantès could see an oaken coffer, bound with cut steel; in the middle ofthe lid he saw engraved on a silver plate, which was still untarnished,the arms of the Spada family—viz., a sword, en pale, on an oval shield,like all the Italian armorial bearings, and surmounted by a cardinal’shat.
Dantès easily recognized them, Faria had so often drawn them for him.There was no longer any doubt: the treasure was there—no one would havebeen at such pains to conceal an empty casket. In an instant he hadcleared every obstacle away, and he saw successively the lock, placedbetween two padlocks, and the two handles at each end, all carved asthings were carved at that epoch, when art rendered the commonest metalsprecious.
Dantès seized the handles, and strove to lift the coffer; it wasimpossible. He sought to open it; lock and padlock were fastened; thesefaithful guardians seemed unwilling to surrender their trust. Dantèsinserted the sharp end of the pickaxe between the coffer and the lid,and pressing with all his force on the handle, burst open thefastenings. The hinges yielded in their turn and fell, still holding intheir grasp fragments of the wood, and the chest was open.
0307m
Edmond was seized with vertigo; he cocked his gun and laid it besidehim. He then closed his eyes as children do in order that they may seein the resplendent night of their own imagination more stars than arevisible in the firmament; then he re-opened them, and stood motionlesswith amazement.
Three compartments divided the coffer. In the first, blazed piles ofgolden coin; in the second, were ranged bars of unpolished gold, whichpossessed nothing attractive save their value; in the third, Edmondgrasped handfuls of diamonds, pearls, and rubies, which, as they fell onone another, sounded like hail against glass.
After having touched, felt, examined these treasures, Edmond rushedthrough the caverns like a man seized with frenzy; he leaped on a rock,from whence he could behold the sea. He was alone—alone with thesecountless, these unheard-of treasures! Was he awake, or was it but adream? Was it a transient vision, or was he face to face with reality?
He would fain have gazed upon his gold, and yet he had not strengthenough; for an instant he leaned his head in his hands as if to preventhis senses from leaving him, and then rushed madly about the rocks ofMonte Cristo, terrifying the wild goats and scaring the sea-fowls withhis wild cries and gestures; then he returned, and, still unable tobelieve the evidence of his senses, rushed into the grotto, and foundhimself before this mine of gold and jewels.
This time he fell on his knees, and, clasping his hands convulsively,uttered a prayer intelligible to God alone. He soon became calmer andmore happy, for only now did he begin to realize his felicity.
He then set himself to work to count his fortune
. There were a thousandingots of gold, each weighing from two to three pounds; then he piled uptwenty-five thousand crowns, each worth about eighty francs of ourmoney, and bearing the effigies of Alexander VI. and his predecessors;and he saw that the complement was not half empty. And he measured tendouble handfuls of pearls, diamonds, and other gems, many of which,mounted by the most famous workmen, were valuable beyond their intrinsicworth.
Dantès saw the light gradually disappear, and fearing to be surprised inthe cavern, left it, his gun in his hand. A piece of biscuit and a smallquantity of rum formed his supper, and he snatched a few hours’ sleep,lying over the mouth of the cave.
It was a night of joy and terror, such as this man of stupendousemotions had already experienced twice or thrice in his lifetime.