The Son of Monte-Cristo Volume I Part 9

"You are making fun of me," Benedetto gruffly answered. "Did you deceive me when you gave me the letter for Monsieur Magloire?"

"Do you really think so?"

"What a question! Do you think Monsieur Magloire could aid us in escaping?"

"Suppose he has already done so."

Benedetto looked at his comrade with wide open mouth.

"Are you really so anxious to escape?" continued Anselmo.

"Really anxious? I would give my right hand were I able to escape from prison on a certain day!"

"And when is that?"

"I must leave Toulon on the night of the 24th of April."

"You must! That settles it."

"Do not be sarcastic--I must be at liberty or else--"

"Well? or else--"

"Then, you will not betray me, will you?"

"Your anxiety on that point comes rather late," said Anselmo dryly. "To rea.s.sure you, however, let me tell you that it is not to my interest to betray you. Look at me. Just as I stand here, I have the power to set you free on the spot."

Benedetto uttered a cry.

"Are you speaking the truth?" he breathlessly asked.

"And why should I deceive you? Let me give you my conditions, and if you accept them you will be free on the evening of the 24th of February."

"What are your conditions?" asked Benedetto faintly.

"Give me half of the million you are seeking to get, and we are quits."

The Corsican looked tremblingly at the ex-priest.

"How do you know?" he stammered.

"That you are seeking to get a million--well, out of your dreams. The words 'the 24th of February,' and 'one million,' form the Alpha and Omega of your thoughts, and in your sleep you constantly repeat these words. You want to be free on the 24th, so as to steal this million.

Steal it, but give me my share!"

"And you want?" stammered Benedetto.

"One quarter! I could demand half, but I will be modest."

"How are you going to secure our freedom?" asked Benedetto after a pause.

"That is my affair! I have an accomplice whom I can trust."

"An accomplice? Who can it be?"

"Swear to me that you will give me a quarter part of your million, and I will show him to you."

Benedetto took the oath. Anselmo whistled for his rat, and, pointing to the little animal, solemnly said:

"Here is our savior--the little rat-king will free us!"

CHAPTER XI

THE DEAD LIVE

Dr. D'Avigny sat in his private office and studied the sick-list of his asylum. A servant entered, and announced a young man who desired to speak with him.

"You know, Jean, that I do not like to receive visitors so late at night," said the physician.

"The gentleman gave me his card and told me you would receive him."

The doctor threw a glance at the card. No sooner had he read the name, Maximilian Morrel, than he hurriedly rose and said:

"Bring the gentleman in at once."

Dr. D'Avigny had only seen young Morrel once--at the time Valentine de Villefort sank apparently lifeless to the ground. As Maximilian entered, both men remembered the sorrowful circ.u.mstances under which they had met before, and, deeply moved, they shook each other's hand.

"Doctor," said Maximilian in a solemn voice, "I do not come to the physician but to the friend of the Villefort family."

D'Avigny bowed and Morrel continued:

"Can you tell me how Monsieur de Villefort is getting on?"

"His condition is hopeless," said the doctor sorrowfully; "as his attendant just informed me, he is again in possession of his senses, but I fear it is the last glimmering before the final extinguishment. He begged me to send for the district-attorney, as he wished to make an important communication to him, and as I hesitated he hurriedly said:

"'D'Avigny, I have no time to lose; Death is already sitting on my tongue.'"

"Then we must be quick," murmured Maximilian to himself, and then speaking aloud he said: "Doctor, would a great excitement injure your patient?"

"That depends upon the nature of the excitement," answered D'Avigny.

"There can hardly be any more joys for Villefort, and troubles I would keep aloof from him."

"It is a question of a great joy, which, however, is not free from certain anxieties."

"You are speaking in riddles, Monsieur Morrel."