The Count of Monte Cristo - Full Audiobook (Alexandre Dumas) | Part 6 of 6 | Top 100 Classics - Top 100 Best-Selling Audiobooks

Episode Transcript
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
You did well, Count in bringing me close to the
place where I was so happy. One should die in
the place in which one was happy, Madam Monte Cristo exclaimed,
every one of your words falls bitter and burning on
my heart, and all the more so since you have
cause to hate me. I am responsible for all your misfortunes.

(00:23):
Why do you not pity me? Instead of accusing me?
You would make me still more unhappy. Hate you, Edmund,
Accuse you am I to hate the man who saved
my son's life, because it was your deadly and bloody intent.
Was it not to kill the son of whom Monsieur
de Morcerf was so proud. Oh, look at me, and

(00:45):
see if there is the glimmer of a reproach in me.
The Count looked up and fixed his eyes on Mercedes,
who half standing, was holding both hands towards him. Look
at me, she went on, with a feeling of profound melons.
Today a man can bear to see the sparkle in
my eyes. The days have gone when I used to

(01:07):
smile at Edmond Dante's as he waited for me up
there by the window of the garret where his old
father lived. Since then, many sad days have gone by
digging a gulf between me and that time. Accuse you, Edmund,
hate you, my friend. No, it is myself that I
accuse and hate, Oh wretch that I am, she cried,

(01:31):
clasping her hands and raising her eyes to Heaven. Have
I been punished enough? I had religion, innocence, and love,
the three gifts that make angels and wretch as I am,
I doubted God. Monte Cristo took a step towards her
and silently offered his hand, but she gently drew back
her own. No, she said, no, my friend, do not

(01:55):
touch me. You have spared me. But of all those
whom you have struck, I was the most guilty. The
others acted out of hatred, greed, or selfishness, but I
was a coward. They wanted something I was afraid. No,
don't squeeze my hand, Edmond. I can see that you
are about to say something kind, but don't keep it

(02:19):
for someone else. I no longer deserve your affection. See,
she completely removed her veil. See, misfortune has turned my
hair gray, and my eyes have shed so many tears
that there are dark rings round them, and my forehead
is furrowed. But you, Edmund, you are still young, still handsome,
and still proud. You did have faith, you had strength,

(02:41):
You trusted in God, and God sustained you. I was
a coward. I denied him, so God abandoned me. And
here I am Mercedes burst into tears, her heart breaking
under the weight of memory. Monte Cristo took her hand
and kissed it respectfully, but she herself felt that the
kiss was passionless, as if his lips were pressing the

(03:03):
marble hand of the statue of some saint. Some lives,
she continued, are predestined, so that a single error destroys
all that is to come. I thought you dead. I
should have died. What was the sense in eternally mourning
for you in my heart? Nothing except to make a
woman of fifty out of one of thirty nine? What

(03:26):
good did it do that, once I had recognized you,
of everyone, I managed to save only my son. Should
I not also have saved the man guilty though he
was whom I had accepted as my husband? Yet I
let him die? Oh God, what am I saying? I
contributed to his death by my cowardly insensitivity and my

(03:47):
contempt forgetting or not wanting to remember that it was
for my sake that he became a perjurer and a traitor. Finally,
what is the use in my having accompanied my son here?
If I let him leave alone, if I have been
in him, if I deliver him to the hungry land
of Africa? Oh, I tell you I was a coward.

(04:07):
I disown my lave, and like a turncoat, I bring
misfortune to all those around me. No, Mercedes, Monte Cristo said, no,
think better of yourself. You are a noble and devout woman,
and your grief disarmed me. But behind me was God,
an invisible, unknown and jealous God whose envoy I was,

(04:29):
and who did not choose to restrain the lightning bolt
that I unleashed. Oh, I implore that God, at whose
feet I have prostrated myself every day for ten years,
and I call on him to witness that I did
sacrifice my life to you and with it all the
plans that depended on it. But and I say this
with pride, Mercedes, God needed me, and I lived. Look

(04:51):
at the past, look at the present, try to divine
the future, and consider whether I am not the instrument
of the Lord the most frightful misform, fortunes, the most
cruel suffering, the abandonment of all those who loved me,
in persecution by those who did not know me. This
was the first part of my life. Then, suddenly, after captivity,

(05:11):
solitude and misery, air, freedom, and a fortune so brilliant,
so imposing, and so extravagant, that, unless I was blind,
I must have thought that God had sent it to
me for some great purpose. From then on, that fortune
seemed to me a holy vocation. From then on, there
was not one further thought in me for that life,
the sweetness of which you, poor woman, have sometimes partaken,

(05:33):
Not an hour of calm, not a single hour. I
felt myself driven like a cloud of flame through the
sky to destroy the cities of the plane. Like those
adventurous captains who set off on some dangerous voyage or
prepare for a perilous expedition. I got together my supplies,
I loaded my weapons, and I gathered the means of
attack and defense, making my body used to the most

(05:55):
violent exercise, in my soul to the roughest shocks, teaching
my arm to kill my I used to see suffering
in my mouth, to smile at the most dreadful of spectacles, kind, trustful,
and forgiving as I was, I made myself vengeful, secretive,
and cruel, or rather impassive, like fate itself, which is
deaf and blind. Then I launched myself down the road

(06:16):
that I had opened, plunging forward until I reached my goal.
Woe be tied whomsoever I met on my path. Enough, Mercedes,
cried Edmund. Enough. You may believe that the only person
to recognize you was also the only one who could understand.

(06:37):
But Edmund, the woman who recognized and understood you, even
if you had found her standing in your way and
broken her like glass, would have had to admire you, Edmund.
Just as there is a gulf between me and the past,
so there is a gulf between you and other men.
And my most painful torture, I can tell you, is
to make comparisons. There is no one in the world

(06:59):
you're equal. There is nothing that resembles you. Now say
farewell to me, Edmund, and let us be parted. Before
I go. What do you want, Mercedes, Monte Cristo asked
only one thing, Edmund. For my son to be happy,
pray God, who alone holds the lives of men in

(07:21):
his hands to spare him from death, and I shall
take care of the rest. Thank you Edmund, and you Mercedes.
I need nothing. I am living between two tombs. One
is that of Edmund Dantes, who died so long ago.
I loved him. The word is no longer appropriate on

(07:43):
my shrunken lips, but my heart still remembers, and I
would not exchange the memory of the heart for anything
in the world. The other is that of a man
whom Edmond Dantes killed. I approve of the murder, but
I must pray for the dead man. Your son one
will be happy, madam, the count repeated. Then I shall

(08:04):
be as happy as I can be. But what will
you do? Mercedes smiled sadly. If I were to tell
you that I should live in this place as Mercedes
once did, that is to say by working, you would
not believe me. I can no longer do anything except pray.
But I do not need to work. The little treasure

(08:26):
that you buried was still in the place that you mentioned.
People will wonder who I am, and ask what I do,
and have no idea how I live, But that is
of no significance. It is between God, yourself and me. Mercedes,
the count said, I am not reproaching you, but you
did make too much of a sacrifice when you gave

(08:46):
up the whole of the fortune that Monsieur de Morcerf
had accumulated. At least half of it was rightly yours
because of your good management and your vigilance. I know
what you are about to suggest, but I cannot accept, Edmund,
my son would forbid me, and I will be careful
not to do anything for you that would not have

(09:07):
Monsieur Albert de Morcerf's approval. I shall find out what
he intends and act accordingly. But if he accepts what
I want to do, would you cheerfully do the same,
you know, Edmund, I am no longer a thinking creature.
I have no further resolve except that of never again
being resolved about anything. God has so shaken me with

(09:31):
storms that I have lost all willpower. I am in
his hands like a sparrow in the claws of an eagle.
Since I am alive. He does not want me to die.
If he sends me any succor, it will be because
he wants it, and I shall accept. Take care, Madam,
said Monte Cristo. That is not how God should be worshiped.

(09:55):
He wants us to understand and debate his power. That
is why he gave us free will. Wretch, Mercedes cried,
don't speak like that to me. If I believe that
God had given me free will, what would remain to
save me from despair? Monte Cristo paled slightly and bowed

(10:16):
his head, overwhelmed by the extremity of her suffering. Don't
you want to say goodbye to me, he asked, holding
out his hand. Yes, indeed, Mercedes said, solemnly, pointing to heaven,
I will say au revoir to prove to you that
I still hope. She touched the Count's hand with her own, trembling,

(10:38):
then ran up the stairs and vanished from his sight.
Monte Cristo slowly left the house and turned back towards
the port. Mercedes did not see him leave, even though
she was at the window of the little room that
had been his father's. Her eyes were searching the distant
horizon for the ship taking her son across the open sea,

(10:59):
but her voice almost involuntarily muttered softly, Edmund, Edmund, Edmund,
see XIAI the past. The Count came away heavy hearted
from this house where he was leaving Mercedes in all
probability never to see her again. Since the death of

(11:20):
Little Edouard, a great change had overtaken Monte Cristo. Having
reached the summit of his vengeance by the slow and
tortuous route that he had followed, he had looked over
the far side of the mountain and into the abyssi
of doubt. There was more than that the conversation that
he had just had with Mercedes had awoken so many
memories in his heart that these memories themselves needed to

(11:42):
be overcome. A man of the Count's stamp could not
long exist in that state of melancholy which may give
life to vulgar souls by endowing them with an appearance
of originality, but which destroys superior beings. The Count decided
that if he had reached the stage where he was
blaming him, then there must be some mistake in his calculations.

(12:04):
I think ill of the past, he said, and cannot
have been mistaken in that way. What could the goal
that I set myself have been wrong? What have I
been on the wrong road for the past ten years?
What can it be that in a single hour the
architect can become convinced that the work into which he
has put all his hopes was, if not impossible, then sacrilegious.

(12:29):
I cannot accept that idea, because it would drive me mad.
What my thinking today lacks is a proper assessment of
the past, because I am looking at this past from
the other end of the horizon. Indeed, as one goes forward,
so the past, like the landscape through which one is walking,
is gradually effaced. What is happening to me is what

(12:51):
happens to people who are wounded in a dream. They
look at their wand and they feel it, but cannot
remember how it was caused. Come, then, resurrection man, Come
extravagant creases, Come sleepwalker, Come all powerful visionary, Come invincible millionaire,
and for an instant rediscover the dread prospect of a
life of poverty and starvation. Go back down the roads

(13:15):
where fate drove, where misfortune led in, where despair greeted you.
Too many diamonds, gold and happiness now shine from the
glass of the mirror in which Monte Cristo gazes on
Dante's Hide the diamonds dull, the gold, dampen the rays.
Let the rich man rediscover the poor one, the freeman,

(13:36):
the prisoner, and the resurrected man the corpse. Even as
he was saying this to himself, Monte Cristo went down
the Rue de la Caserie. This was the same street
down which one night, twenty four years before, he had
been led by a silent guard. These houses, now bright
and full of life, had then been dark, silent, and shuddered.

(13:59):
Yet they are the monte Cristo muttered. The difference is
that then it was night, and now it is full daylight.
It is the sun that brings light and joy to
all this. He went down onto the keys along the
Rue Saint Laurent, and walked towards the consign. This was
the point on the port from which he had been

(14:19):
brought to the ship. A pleasure boat was going past,
with its superstructure covered in cotton twill. Monte Cristo called
the master, who immediately turned the boat towards him, with
the eagerness shown in such circumstances by a boatman who
senses a good tip in the offing. The weather was splendid,
the journey of delight. The sun was setting on the horizon,

(14:43):
blazing red in the waters that caught fire as it
descended towards them. The sea was flat as a mirror,
but wrinkled from time to time by leaping fish, chased
by some unseen enemy that jumped out of the water
to look for safety in another element. Finally, on the
horizon could be he seen the fishing boats on their
way to Less Martiguez, or the merchant ships bound for

(15:04):
Corsica or Spain, passing by his white and elegant as
traveling gulls. Despite the clear sky and the finely shaped ships,
despite the golden light flooding the scene, the count, wrapped
in his cloak, recalled one by one all the details
of the dreadful journey, the lone light, burning and less Catalans,
the sight of the shadow diaf that told him where
he was being taken, The struggle with the gendarmes when

(15:26):
he tried to jump into the water. Is despair when
he felt himself overcome, and the cold touch of the
muzzle of the carbine pressed to his temple like a
ring of ice. Little by little, just as the springs
that dry up in the summer heat a moistened bit
by bit when the autumn clouds gather and begin to
well up, drop by drop. So the Count of monte

(15:46):
Cristo also felt rising in his breast the old, overflowing
gull that had once filled the heart of Edmundante's. From
now on there was no more clear sky, or graceful boats,
or radiant light for him. The sky was clouded over
with a funereal veil, and the appearance of the black
giant known as the Chateau d'If made him shudder, as
though he had suddenly seen the ghost of a mortal enemy.

(16:10):
They were about to arrive. Instinctively, the Count shrank to
the far end of the boat, even though the master
told him in his most unctuous voice, we are about
to land. Monsieur. Monte Cristo recalled that on this same spot,
on this same rock, he had been violently dragged by
his guards, who had forced him to go up the
ramp by digging him in the side with the point

(16:32):
of a bayonet. The journey seemed long, then to Dante's,
monte Cristo had found it quite short. Every stroke of
the oars threw up a million thoughts and memories in
the liquid dust of the sea. Since the July Revolution one,
there had been no more prisoners in the Chateau d'If
its guard house was inhabited only by a detachment of

(16:54):
men who were meant to discourage smugglers, and a concierge
waited for visitors at the door to show them round
this monument of terror, which had become a monument of curiosity. Yet,
even though he knew all this, when he passed under
the vault, went down the dark staircase and was taken
to see the dungeons that he had asked to visit.
A coal pallor swept across his brow, and its icy

(17:16):
sweat flowed back into his heart. The count asked if
any former doorkeeper remained from the time of the restoration.
All had retired or gone on to other work. The
concierge who showed him round had been there only since
eighteen thirty. He was taken to see his own dungeon.

(17:37):
He saw the pale light seeping through the narrow window.
He saw the place where the bed had stood, though
it had since been removed, and behind the bed, now blocked,
but still visible because of the newness of the stones.
The opening made by Abefaria. Monte Cristo felt his legs
give way under him. He took a wooden stool and
sat down. Do they tell any stories about this castle,

(18:01):
apart from those to do with Mirabeau's imprisonment? To here?
He asked, Is there any tradition connected with these dismal
haunts in which one can hardly believe that men once
shut up their fellow creatures? Yes, messieur, said the concierge.
The doorkeeper Antoine even told me one story about this
very cell. Monte Cristo shuddered. This doorkeeper Antoine was his doorkeeper.

(18:29):
He had almost forgotten the name in the face, But
on hearing the name, he saw the face, its features
ringed by a beard, and the brown jacket, and the
bunch of keys. It seemed to him that he could
hear them rattle. Still. He even turned around and thought
he could see the man in the corridor, in shadows
made even darker by the light of the torch that
burned in the concierge's hands. Would the gentleman like me

(18:52):
to tell him the story? The man asked, I would, said,
monte Cristo, tell me, And he put a hand on
his chest to repress the beating of his heart, terrified
at hearing his own story. Tell me, he repeated. This dungeon,
the concierge said, was inhabited by a prisoner a long

(19:15):
time ago, who was a very dangerous man. And it
appears all the more dangerous since he was very industrious.
Another man was held in the chateau at the same
time as him, but he was not a wicked man,
just a poor priest and mad. Yes, I see mad,
monte Cristo repeated, What form did his madness take? He

(19:39):
offered millions to anyone who would give him his freedom.
Monte Cristo raised his eyes heavenwards, but could not see
the heavens. There was a veil of stone between him
and the firmament. He considered that there had been no
less impenetrable a veil between the eyes of those to
whom Abbe Faria had offered his treasures and the treasures
which he was offering them. Could the prisoners meet one another,

(20:03):
he asked, Oh, no, monsieur, that was expressly forbidden. But
they got round the prohibition by digging a tunnel between
one dungeon and the other. And which of the two
dug this tunnel? Oh, it must surely have been the
young one, said the concierge, he was industrious and strong,

(20:25):
while the poor abbe was old and weak. In any case,
his mind wandered too much for him to concentrate on
one idea. How blind, monte Cristo murmured, So it was.
The concierge went on that the young man drove this tunnel.
How no one knows, but he did drive it through.

(20:46):
And the proof is that you can still see the
marks there, do you see? And he brought his torch
up to the wall. Ah. Yes, indeed, said the count,
his voice choked with emotion. The outcome was that the
two prisoners could communicate with one another. No one has
any idea for how long? Then one day the old

(21:07):
man fell ill and died. And guess what the young
one did, he said, interrupting his narrative. Tell me he
took away the body of the dead man, put him
in his own bed, with his face turned towards the wall.
Then returned to the empty dungeon, blocked the hole, and
slipped into the dead man's winding sheet. Can you imagine

(21:29):
such a thing? Monte Cristo closed his eyes and felt
again every sensation that he had undergone. When the rough
cloth rubbed against his face, still cold from the corpse,
The keeper went on. You see, this was his plan.
He thought that they buried dead bodies in the shadow
di' if, and as he guessed that they would not
go to the expense of a coffin for the prisoners,

(21:50):
he imagined he would be able to lift up the
earth with his shoulders. But unfortunately, there was a custom
here on the island that upset his plans. The dead
weren't buried. They just had a cannonball fastened around their
legs and were thrown into the sea. And that's what happened.
Our man was thrown into the water from the top
of the gallery. The next day they found the real

(22:13):
body in his bed and guessed everything because the burial
party said something that they had not dared to admit
up to then, which was that at the moment when
the body was thrown out into the void, they heard
a dreadful cry. Instantly smothered beneath the water into which
he was thrown, the count had difficulty breathing, Sweat was
pouring down his forehead, and his heart was gripped with

(22:34):
anguish No, he muttered, No, that doubt which I experienced
was the sign that I was starting to forget. But
here the heart is mine once more and feels once
more a hunger for revenge. And this prisoner, he asked,
did anyone hear of him? Again? Never? Not a word.

(22:56):
You see, there are only two possibilities. Either, well, he
fell flat, and since he was falling from fifty feet,
he would have been killed instantly. You said that they
tied a cannonball to his feet. In that case he
would have fallen standing up. Or else he fell standing up,
the concierge went on, and in that case the weight

(23:16):
on his feet would have dragged him to the bottom,
and there he stayed. Poor fellow, Do you pity him?
Good Heavens, yes, even though he was in his element.
Why do you say that? The rumor was that the
poor man had once been a naval officer arrested for bonapartism. Ah, truth,

(23:39):
the count muttered, God made you to float above the
waves and the flames. So the poor sailor does live
in the memory of some storytellers. They retell his dreadful
tale at the fireside and shudder at the moment when
he flew through the air and was swallowed up by
the sea. Did they ever know his name? He asked aloud,
what said the key? Oh? Yes, he was only known

(24:04):
as number thirty four Villefort Villefort. Monte Cristo muttered, that
is what you must often have told yourself when my
specter haunted your sleepless nights. Would the gentleman like to
continue the tour, the concierge asked, yes, and I'd particularly

(24:25):
like to see the poor abbey's room. Ah number twenty seven, Yes,
number twenty seven. It seemed he could still hear Abbe
Faria's voice when he asked him his name, and the
Abbe called back that number through the wall. Come wait,
said monte Cristo. Let me cast a final glance over

(24:49):
every aspect of this dungeon. Just as well, said the guide.
I forgot to bring the key to the other. Then
go and fetch it. I'll leave you the torch, No
take it with you, but you will have to stay
here without a light. I can see in the dark. Why,

(25:13):
just like him, like whom number thirty four, They say
he was so used to the dark that he could
have seen a pin in the darkest corner of his cell.
It took him ten years to reach that point. The
Count muttered, as the guide went off carrying the torch.
The count was right. He had hardly been a few

(25:35):
moments in the dark before he could see everything as
if in broad daylight. So he looked all round him
and truly recognized his dungeons. Yes, he said, there is
the stone on which I used to sit. There is
the trace of my shoulders where they have worn their
imprint in the wall. There is the mark of the
blood that flowed from my forehead the day when I

(25:58):
tried to dash out my brains against the wall. Oh,
those figures, I remember. I made them one day when
I was calculating the age of my father, to know
if I would find him alive, and the age of Mercedes,
to know if I should find her free. I had
a moment's hope after doing those sums. I had not

(26:19):
counted on starvation and infidelity. A bitter laugh escaped him,
as if in a dream he had just seen his
father being taken to the tomb, and Mercedes. Walking to
the altar. He was struck by an inscription on the
far wall, still white, it stood out against the greenish stones.

(26:39):
My God, he read, let me not forget. Yes, yes,
he said, that was my only prayer in my last years.
I no longer asked for freedom. I asked for memory,
and was afraid I should become mad and forget my God.
You did preserve my memory, and I have not forgotten.

(27:02):
Thank you, God, Thank you. At that moment, the light
of the torch was reflected off the walls. The guide
had returned. Monte Cristo went to meet him. Follow me,
the man said, and without needing to return to the daylight,
he took him down an underground corridor which led to
another entrance. Here, too, monte Cristo was overwhelmed with a

(27:26):
host of thoughts. The first thing that struck him was
the meridian on the wall by which Abbe Faria counted
the hours. Then there were the remains of the bed
on which the poor prisoner died. At the sight of this,
instead of the anguish he had felt in his own dungeon,
a sweet and tender feeling, a feeling of gratitude, filled
his heart, and two tears rolled down his cheeks. Here,

(27:51):
said the guide, is where they kept the mad priest,
and there is the place through which the young man
came to join him. And he showed Monte crist tis
the opening to the tunnel, which on this side had
been left uncovered by the color of the stone. He
went on. A scientist realized that they must have been
in communication with each other for about ten years. Poor folk,

(28:14):
how miserable they must have been those ten years. Dants
took a few lewis from his pocket and handed them
to the man, who, for the second time had felt
sorry for him, without knowing who he was. The concierge
accepted the money, thinking that it must be a few
small coins. Then, in the light of the torch, he
realized how much the visitor had given him. Monsieur, he said,

(28:39):
you've made a mistake. What do you mean you have
given me gold? I know that what you know? Yes,
and you intended to give me this gold? Yes, so
I can keep it in all conscience. Yes. The concierge

(29:04):
looked at Monte Cristo in amazement and honesty. The count said,
like Hamlet point three, Monsieur, the concierge said, not daring
to believe in his good fortune, I do not understand
your generosity. It's simple enough, my friend, said the count.

(29:25):
I used to be a sailor, and your story touched
me more than it might another person. So, monsieur, the
guide said, as you are so generous, you deserve a present.
What can you give me, friend, seashells straw DoLS? No,
thank you, not at all, monsieur. Something that has to

(29:47):
do with the story I just told you, really, the
count exclaimed, what is it? Listen? The concierge said, here's
what happened. I thought to myself, there's always something to
be found in a room where a prisoner has lived
for fifteen years. So I began to tap the walls. Ah,

(30:10):
Monte Cristo said, remembering the abbey's double hiding place. As
you say, so, by looking, the concierge went on, I
discovered that there really was a hollow sound at the
head of the bed and under the hearth. Yes, monte
Cristo said, yes. I lifted the stones and I found

(30:33):
a rope ladder and tools. The count cried, how did
you know that, the concierge asked, in astonishment. I don't know,
I guessed. The count said, those are the sort of
things that one usually finds in prisoners hiding places. Yes, monsieur,
the guide said, a rope ladder and some tools. Do

(30:57):
you still have them? Monte Cristo asked eagerly. No, Monsieur,
I sold the various things which were very unusual to visitors.
But I do have something else. What is that, the
Count asked impatiently. I have a sort of book written

(31:18):
on strips of cloth. Oh, Monte Cristo cried, you have
such a book. I don't know if it is a book,
said the concierge, But I do have what I told you.
Go and fetch it, my friend, said the Count. Go
and if it's what I think, don't worry. I'm going,

(31:42):
Monsieur and the guide left. At this, the Count went
to kneel piously in front of the remains of the
bed which death had made an altar for him. Oh,
my second father, he said, you who gave me liberty,
knowledge riches you, who, like those beings of some higherescence,
than ourselves, had an understanding of good and evil. If

(32:05):
in the depths of the tomb, something remains of us,
which still shudders to hear the voices of those who
have remained on earth, If in the transfiguration undergone by
the body and death, something animate remains in the places
where we have greatly loved or greatly suffered, noble heart,
supreme Spirit, profound soul. I beg you, by some word,
some sign, or some revelation, in the name of the

(32:26):
paternal love which you gave me in the filial respect
that I returned to you. Take away this remaining doubt,
that if it does not become a certainty, we'll turn
into remorse. The Count bent his head and clasped his hands. Here, monsieur,
said a voice behind him. He started and turned around.

(32:47):
The concierge was holding out the strips of cloth to
which Abbe Faria had entrusted all the fruits of his wisdom.
This was the manuscript of abbe Faria's great work on
the monarchy in Italy. The count seized it eagerly, and
the first thing his eyes met was the epigraph, which read,
you will pull the dragon's teeth and trample the lion's underfoot,

(33:08):
said the lord. Ah, he cried, there is my answer.
Thank you, father, thank you. Taking out of his pocket
a small wallet containing ten bank notes of a thousand
francs each, he said, here, take this. Are you giving
it to me? Yes, on condition that you do not

(33:30):
look inside it until after I have gone. Placing the
relic which he had just found against his chest a relic,
which for him was worth the most precious treasure. He
hurried out of the underground tunnel and stepped back into
the boat with the order to Marseilles. As they were
pulling away, he looked back towards the grim fortress and said,

(33:51):
we'll betide those who had me shut up in that
awful place, and those who forgot that I was imprisoned there.
As they sailed back past less Catalan, the Count turned away,
wrapped his head in his cloak, and muttered a woman's name.
The victory was complete. Twice he had driven away his doubts,
and the name which he spoke with an expression of

(34:13):
tenderness that was close to love, was that of Haiti.
On reaching land, Monte Cristo set off for the cemetery,
where he knew he would find Moral. Ten years earlier,
he too had piously searched out a tomb in this graveyard,
but he had searched in vain. Returning to France a millionaire,
he had been unable to find the tomb of his father,

(34:35):
who had starved to death. Moral had indeed arranged for
a cross to be raised, but the cross had fallen
and the gravedigger had burned it, as grave diggers do
with old pieces of wood lying around in cemeteries. The
worthy merchant had been luckier. He died in the arms
of his children, who laid him to rest beside his wife,

(34:55):
who had preceded him by two years into eternity. Two
large slabs of marble bearing their names, lay one beside
the other in a little plot surrounded by an iron
railing in the shade of four cypress trees. Maximilian was
leaning against one of these, staring at the two graves,
but seeing nothing. His agony was profound, and he was

(35:17):
in almost a state of distraction. Maximilian the Count said,
that is not where you should be looking, but there,
and he pointed to heaven. The dead are all around us,
said moral. Isn't that what you told me yourself when
you took me away from Paris? Maximilian the Count said,

(35:39):
during the journey you asked me to stop for a
few days in Marseilles? Is that still what you want?
I no longer want anything, Count, but I feel that
I shall wait with less displeasure here than elsewhere. So
much the better, Maximilian, because I am leaving you, But
taking your word of honor with me, I think, oh,

(36:01):
I shall forget it, Count said Moral, I shall forget it. No,
you will not forget, because before all else you are
a man of honor, Moral, because you have sworn, and
because you must swear again. Please, Count have pity on me.
I am so unhappy. I once knew a man who

(36:23):
was more unhappy than you. Moral impossible, Alas said Monte Cristo,
our poor species can pride itself on the fact that
every man thinks himself unhappier than another unfortunate weeping and
moaning beside him. What can be more unhappy than a
man who had lost the only thing in the world
that he loved and desired. Listen, Moral, Monte Cristo said,

(36:48):
and concentrate for a moment on what I am about
to tell you. I knew a man who, like you,
placed all his expectations of happiness in a woman. He
was young and had an old father whom he loved
and a fiancee whom he adored. He was about to
marry her, when suddenly, one of those twists of fate
which would make us doubt the existence of God if

(37:09):
God did not reveal himself later by demonstrating that everything
is to him a means by which to lead us
to his infinite oneness. When suddenly, a twist of fate
took away his freedom, his fiance, and the future he
dreamed of, which he believed was his blindness. He was
he could only read the hurin now, and threw him
in the depths of a dungeon. Oh, yes, Moral said,

(37:32):
but people come out of dungeons after a week, or
a month or a year. He stayed there for fourteen years, Moral,
the count said, putting his hand on the young man's shoulder.
Maximilian shuddered. Fourteen years, he murmured. Fourteen years, the Count repeated,

(37:54):
And he, too, in those fourteen years, had many moments
of despair. He too, like you, Moral, thinking himself the
most unhappy of men, wanted to kill himself, and Moral asked,
And at the very last moment, God revealed himself to
him by human means, because God no longer performs miracles,

(38:18):
perhaps at first, because eyes clouded by tears need some
time to clear entirely, he did not understand the infinite
mercy of the Lord, but he was patient and waited.
One day, he miraculously emerged from his tomb, transfigured, rich, powerful,
almost to God. His first thought was for his father,

(38:38):
But his father was dead. My father too is dead,
said Moral. Yes, but he died in your arms, loved, happy, honored, rich,
and full of years. This man's father died poor, desperate,
doubting God. And when ten years after his death, his
son looked for the grave, even that had vanished, and

(38:58):
no one could tell him here is where the heart
that loved you so sleeps in the lord? Oh, said Moral.
So as a son, he was unhappier than you are. Moral,
He did not even know where to find his father's grave, yes,
said Moral, but he did still have the woman whom
he loved. You are wrong, Moral, the woman was she dead,

(39:25):
Maximilian cried. Worse, She had been unfaithful and married one
of her fiance's tormentors. So you see, Moral, the man
was more unfortunate even than you are. And did God
send him consolation? Moral asked, He did at least send

(39:46):
him tranquility, and might he still be happy one day?
He hoped so. Maximilian the young man bowed his head and,
after a moment's silence, said, you have my promise, but
remember and he offered Monte Cristo's hand on October the fifth, Moral,

(40:06):
I shall expect you on the island of Monte Cristo
on the fourth of yacht will be waiting for you
in the port at Bostia. The yacht will be called
the Urus. You will tell the master your name and
he will bring you to me. That's agreed, isn't it, Maximilian? Agreed? Count,

(40:27):
and I shall do as we have agreed. But remember
that on October the fifth child, who does not yet
know what a man's promise means, I have told you
twenty times that on that day, if you still want
to die, I shall help you. Now farewell. Are you
leaving me? Yes, I have business in Italy. I am

(40:52):
leaving you alone, alone with your grief, alone with that
powerful eagle which the Lord sends to his elect to
transport them to his feet. The story of Ganymede Iour
is not a fable, Maximilian, but an allegory. When will
you leave immediately? The steamship is waiting for me, and

(41:15):
in an hour I shall already be far away. Will
you come with me to the port? I am entirely
at your disposal. Count, embrace me, Moral, walked with the
Count down to the port Already a huge plume of
smoke was pouring out of the black tube, which cast
it upwards towards the skies. Shortly afterwards the boat set out,

(41:39):
and an hour later, as Monte Cristo had said, the
same trail of smoke was barely visible, streaking an eastern
horizon darkened by the first shades of night. SIV Peppino.
At the very same moment as the Count's steamship was
vanishing behind the cap Mordew, a man traveling by the

(42:00):
mail on the road from Florence to Rome had just
left the little town of Aquependent. Doing some of the
journey on foot, he covered a lot of ground without
attracting suspicion. Dressed in a frockcoat, or rather an overcoat,
much worn by travel, but showing the ribbon of the
Legion of Honor sewn on to it, still bright and shining,

(42:20):
the man was recognizably French, not only by his dress
and his decoration, but also by the accent in which
he addressed the postilion. Another proof that he had been
born in that land with its universal language was that
he knew no other Italian words except those pertaining to music, which,
like figaroes, God damn one can stand in for all
the subtleties of a particular tongue. A leegro, he cried

(42:44):
to the coachman as they went up a hill. Moderato,
he cried every time they went down. God knows there
are plenty of hills up and down between Florence and Rome,
along the road through Aquependent. The two words, of course,
caused enormous hilarity among the good fellows to whom they
were addressed. Once in the presence of the eternal city,

(43:08):
that is to say, on arriving at Lastorda, the point
from which one may catch sight of Rome, the traveler
did not experience the feeling of fervent curiosity that impels
every foreigner to rise from his seat in an attempt
to see the famous dome of Saint Peter's, which can
be glimpsed long before anything else. No, he merely took
a portfolio from his pocket. End. From the portfolio a

(43:30):
piece of paper folded four times, which he unfolded and
refolded with an intensity that was close to respect, saying
only good, I still have it. The carriage entered through
the Porta del Popolo turned left and stopped at the
Hotel de Landres. Our old friend, Senior Pastrini, greeted the
traveler on the doorstep, cap in hand. The traveler got down,

(43:54):
ordered a good dinner, and asked for the address of
the firm of Thomson and French, which was instantly pointed
out to him, since the firm was one of the
best known in Rome. It was situated in the Via
dea Banshee, near Saint Peter's. In Rome, as anywhere else,
the arrival of a stagecoach is an event. Ten young

(44:14):
descendants of Marius and the Grachite, two barefoot and with
holes at their elbows, but with one hand on their
hip and the other arm picturesquely bent above their head,
watched the traveler, the post chaise and the horses. These
typical Roman regatzi had been joined by some fifty idlers
from the Papal states, of the sort who make rings
on the water by spitting into the Tiber from the

(44:35):
Ponte sant Angelo when there is water in the river. Now,
since the ragatzi and street urchins of Rome, unlike the
gammons of Paris, understand every language, especially French, they heard
the traveler ask for rooms, ordered dinner, and finally inquire
as to the address of Thomson and French. The result
was that, when the new arrival came out of the

(44:57):
hotel with his inevitable guide, a man emerged from the
group of onlookers, and, without being observed by the traveler
or apparently by the guide, walked a short distance behind
the foreigner, tailing him with as much skill as a
Parisian detective. The man was in such a hurry to
visit Thompson in French that he had not bothered to
wait for the horses to be harnessed. The carriage was

(45:20):
to pick him up on the way, or wait for
him at the door of the bank. He got there
before the coach reached him. The frenchman went in, leaving
his guide in the antechamber, where he immediately got into
conversation with two or three of those businessmen who have
no business, or if you prefer, have a thousand businesses,
who in Rome hang around at the doors of banks, churches, ruins,

(45:42):
museums or theaters. At the same moment, the man who
had left the group of onlookers at the hotel also
went in the Frenchman rang at the window in the
front office and came through into the first room. His
shadow did likewise Messrs Thompson and French. The foreigner asked

(46:04):
a sort of lackey, got up at a sign from
a confidential clerk. The solemn guardian of the first office.
Whom should I announce? Asked the lackey, preparing to precede
the foreigner, Baron Danglars. The traveler replied, follow me, said
the lackey. A door opened, the lackey, and the baron

(46:27):
vanished through it. The man who had come in behind
Danglars sat down on a bench to wait. The clerk
went on writing for roughly five minutes. During this time,
the seated man remained absolutely still, in silent. Then the
clerks quill stop scratching across the paper. He looked up,

(46:48):
searched carefully all around him, and, after reassuring himself that
they were alone, said, Ah, so there you are, Peppino. Yes,
the man replied laconically. Did you see the chance of
anything good from that fat man? There's not much to
be had out of him. We've been informed, so you

(47:10):
know what he's here for? Snooper, Why he's come to
make a withdrawal. The only thing is we don't know
how much. You'll find out soon enough, my friend. Good,
but don't do as you did the other day and
give me misinformation. What do you mean, what are you

(47:30):
thinking of? Is it the Englishman who went away with
three thousand kas a few days ago? No, he really
did have three thousand kas, and we found them. I'm
talking about that Russian prince. What of him? Well, you
told us thirty thousand livres and we only found twenty two.

(47:53):
You probably didn't look hard enough. Luigi Vampa did the
search in person. In that case, either he had paid
his debts a Russian or spent the money. I suppose
that's possible. It's definite. But let me go to my post,

(48:14):
or the Frenchman will have done his business before I
can discover the precise amount. Peppino nodded, and, taking a
rosary out of his pocket, began to mutter some prayer
or other while the clerk vanished through the same door
that had opened for the lackey in the baron. Ten
minutes later, he reappeared with a broad smile. Well, Peppino asked,

(48:39):
stand by, it's a princely sum five or six millions,
I believe, yes, how do you know the figure against
a bill signed by His excellency, the Count of Monte Cristo.
You know the count credited on Rome, Venice and Vienna.

(49:03):
Just so, the clerk exclaimed, how are you so well informed?
I told you that we had advance information, So why
did you come to me to be sure that this
is really our man? It's him, all right? Five million

(49:23):
a fine some, eh, Peppino. Yes, we'll never have as
much for ourselves. At least we'll get some crumbs of it.
Peppino said, philosophically. Hush, here he comes. The clerk took
up his pen and Peppino is rosary. When the door opened,

(49:45):
the one was writing and the other praying. Danglars appeared
in fine spirits, together with the banker, who accompanied him
to the door. As agreed, the carriage that was to
meet Danglars was waiting in front of the house of
Thompson and French. The guide held the door open. A
ciceroni is a very accommodating creature who can be put

(50:07):
to all sorts of uses. Danglars leapt into the carriage
with the spring of a twenty year old. The guide
shut the door and got up beside the driver. Peppino
climbed onto the rear box. Would your excellency like to
see Saint Peter's the guide asked, what for? The baron replied, why,

(50:31):
just to see it. I didn't come to Rome to
see anything, Danglars said aloud. Then, with an avaricious smile,
he said, under his breath, I came to touch, and
he meaningfully touched his portfolio, in which he had just
enclosed a letter. So your excellency is going to the
hotel Casa Pastrini, the guide said to the coachman, and

(50:55):
the carriage set off as briskly as a racing gig.
Ten minutes later, the baron had returned to his rooms,
and Peppino had taken up his place on the bench
running along the front of the hotel. After whispering a
few words to one of those descendants of Marius and
the Grachi, whom we noted at the start of this chapter,
the boy in question setting off down the road for

(51:15):
the capital as fast as his legs could carry him.
Danglars was weary, satisfied, and sleepy. He went to bed,
put his pocket book under the bolster, and fell asleep.
Peppino had plenty of time. However, he played more three
with some porters, lost three ikis, and in consolation drank

(51:36):
a flagon of orviedo. The next day, Danglars woke late.
Even though he had gone to bed early for the
previous five or six nights, he had slept badly, if
at all, he had an ample breakfast in not, being,
as he had said, much inclined to enjoy the beauty
of the eternal city, he asked for his post horses

(51:56):
to be brought at noon. However, Danglars had not counted
on the formalities of the police and the idleness of
the postmaster. The horses arrived only at two o'clock, and
the guide did not bring back the passport with its
visa until three. All these preparations had drawn a fair
crowd of onlookers to the door of Senior Pastrinis, and

(52:19):
there was no lack of descendants of the Grachion Marius
among them. The baron walked in triumph through these groups
of idlers, who called him Excellency to get a bioco. Danglars,
who was a very democratic fellow, as we know, had
up to then been content to be addressed as baron,
and had not yet been called excellency. He found the
title flattering and threw a few pulls to the mob,

(52:41):
which was quite ready for a further dozen or so
of the same, to nominate him, Your royal highness, What road,
the postilion asked in Italian to ancona. The baron replied,
Senior Pastrini translated the request and the reply, and the
carriage set off at a gallop. Danglars intended to go

(53:03):
to Venice and draw out part of his fortune, then
from Venice to Vienna, where he would withdraw the rest.
Then his idea was to settle in the latter city,
which he had been assured was one offering many pleasures.
Hardly had they done three leagues through the Roman Campagna.
The night began to fall. Danglars had not realized that

(53:24):
they were leaving so late, otherwise he would have stayed
in Rome. He asked the postilion how long it would
be before they arrived in the next town, Non Capisco.
The man replied, Danglars nodded to indicate very good, and
the carriage drove on I can stop at the first post,

(53:44):
Danglars thought he still felt some traces of that well
being which he had experienced on the previous day, and
which had given him such a good night's sleep. He
was comfortably installed in a solid English coach with double springs.
He felt himself being pulled forward at a gallop by
two strong horses, and he knew that the relay was

(54:05):
seven leagues on. What is one to do when one
is a banker and one has successfully gone bankrupt? For
ten minutes he thought of his wife, who was still
in Paris, And for another ten minutes he considered his daughter,
who was running round the globe with Lee di Armilli.
He devoted a further ten minutes to his creditors and

(54:25):
how he would spend their money. Then, having nothing left
to think about, he closed his eyes and fell asleep.
From time to time, however, shaken by a jolt which
was harder than the rest, Danglars would momentarily reopen his
eyes and feel himself carried along at the same speed
through the same Roman campagna, among a scattering of broken

(54:46):
aqueducts which looked like granite giants petrified as they ran.
But the night was cold, dark and rainy, and it
was far better for a man who was half asleep
to stay at the back of the coach with his
eyes closed than to put his head out of the
door and ask where he was from a postilion whose
only answer would be non capisco. So Danglars went on sleeping,

(55:07):
thinking that it would be time enough to wake up.
When they arrived at the relay, the carriage stopped, Danglars
thought he had at last reached his much desired goal.
He opened his eyes and looked through the glass, expecting
to find himself in the middle of some town, or
at least of some village. But he could see nothing

(55:27):
except a kind of isolated hobble with three or four
men coming and going like shadows. He waited for a moment,
expecting the postilion who had finished his relay to come
and ask him for his pay. He thought he could
take advantage of the opportunity to ask for some information
from his new driver, but the horses were unharnessed and

(55:49):
replaced without anyone coming to ask the traveler for money. Astonished,
Danglars opened the door, but a firm hand immediately slammed
it shut and the carriage set off again. The baron
woke up completely at this, and in some astonishment. Hey,
he called to the postilion, Hey, mio Caaro. This was

(56:12):
more belcanto Italian that he had learned when his daughter
used to sing duos with Prince Cavalcanti. But Miocaro did
not reply. So Danglars opened the window. I say, my
good friend, where are we going? He said, putting his
head out. Dentro la Testa cried, a serious and commanding voice,

(56:37):
accompanied by a threatening gesture. Danglars understood, dentro la Testa,
put your head in. As we can see he was
making rapid progress in Italian. He obeyed, but with some misgivings,
and since his anxiety was increasing minute by minute. After
a few moments, his mind, instead of the void that

(56:59):
it had contained, on some letting out which had brought sleep,
his mind, as we say, filled with a large quantity
of thoughts, each more likely than the previous one to
keep a traveler on his toes, especially one finding himself
in Danglar's situation. In the darkness, his eyes took on
that degree of acuity that strong emotions tend to give them.
At first, only for the effect to be reversed later

(57:20):
through over use. Before one is afraid, one sees clearly,
while one is afraid, one sees double, and after being afraid,
one sees dimly. Danglars saw a man wrapped in a
cloak galloping beside the right hand door, some gendarme, he said,
Have I been denounced to the pontifical authorities by the

(57:42):
French telegraph? He decided to resolve his uncertainties. Where are
you taking me? He asked Dentro Lautesta. The same voice
repeated in the same threatening tone. Danglars looked over at
the left hand door. Another man on horseback was galloping

(58:03):
alongside it. Definitely, said Danglars, I have definitely been arrested,
and he slumped back into the seat, this time not
to sleep, but to think. A moment later, the moon
rose From the back of the carriage. He looked out
at the countryside and saw the huge aqueducts stone phantoms

(58:25):
which he had noticed in passing, but now instead of
being on his right, they were on the left. He
realized that the carriage had turned round and that he
was being taken back to Rome. Oh wretch, that I
am he muttered, they must have obtained an order for
my extradition. The carriage continued to dash forward at a

(58:47):
terrifying speed. A dreadful hour went by, because every new
indication that appeared proved beyond doubt that the fugitive was
being taken back the way he had come. Finally he
saw a dark massas which it seemed that the carriage
was about to crash, But it turned aside and continued
parallel to the dark shape, which was nothing other than

(59:07):
the ring of ramparts encircling Rome. Oh oh, Danglars muttered,
We're not going into the city, so I am not
being arrested after all. Good heavens, I've just thought, could
it be? His hair stood on end because he recalled
those interesting stories of Roman bandits which were taken with

(59:30):
such a large pinch of salt in Paris. Albert de
morcerf had told some of them to Madame Danglars and
Eugenie when it had been a matter of the young
viscount becoming the son in law of the first and
the husband of the latter. Perhaps they are thieves, he thought.
Suddenly the carriage was running over something harder than a

(59:50):
sanded roadway. Danglars ventured to look out on both sides
of the road and saw oddly shaped monuments. Thinking about
Morcerf's story, which was now coming back to him in
every detail, he thought that he must be on the
Appian Way. On the left of the carriage, in a
sort of dip could be seen a circular excavation. It

(01:00:12):
was the circus of Caracalla point four. At a word
from the man who was galloping by the right hand door,
the carriage stopped. At the same time the left hand
door opened and a voice ordered sendy. Danglars got down
without further ado. He could still not yet speak Italian,
but he was already understanding the language, more dead than alive.

(01:00:37):
He looked around him. He was surrounded by four men,
apart from the postilion Diqua. One of the four said,
going down a little path that led from the Appian
Way to the middle of the irregular mounds that break
up the topography of the Roman Campagna. Danglars followed his
guide without debate, and did not need to turn around

(01:00:58):
to confirm that the other three men were following him.
But it seemed to him that these men were stopping
like sentries at more or less equal distances. After they
had walked for some ten minutes, in which Danglars did
not exchange a single word with his guide, he found
himself standing between a small hillock and a tall bush.
Three silent men standing around him formed a triangle, with

(01:01:21):
himself at its center. He tried to speak, but his
tongue refused to obey. Avanti said the same sharp and
commanding voice. This time Danglars doubly understood. He understood both
by word and by gesture, because the man who was
walking behind him pushed him forward so roughly that he

(01:01:42):
nearly collided with his guide. The guide was our friend Peppino,
who advanced into the high bushes along the winding track
that only the ants and the lizards could have recognized
as a pathway. Peppino stopped in front of a rock
surmounted by a thick bush. This rock, half open like
an eyelid, swallowed up the young man, who disappeared into

(01:02:04):
it like a devil into the pit in one of
our fairy tales. The voice and gestures of the man
behind Danglars ordered him to do the same. There could
be no further doubt the French bankrupt was in the
hands of Roman bandits. Danglars did as he was told,
like a man caught between two frightful perils, made brave

(01:02:24):
by fear, despite his stomach which was not built for
wriggling through cracks in the Roman campagna. He slipped in
behind Peppino and letting himself drop with his eyes closed.
He fell on his feet. As he did so, he
reopened his eyes. The track was wide but dark. Peppino,
making no effort to conceal himself now that he was

(01:02:47):
at home, struck a flame from a tinder box and
lit a torch. Two other men came down behind Danglars,
taking up the rear and pushing Danglars, if he ever
happened to stop, drove him down a gentle slope to
the scent of a sinister looking crossroads. Here were white
stone walls hollowed out to make coffins superimposed one above

(01:03:07):
the other, which seemed like the deep black eyes of
a skull. A sentry was tapping the barrel of his
carbine against his left hand. Friend or foe, he asked, Friend,
said Peppino, where is the captain? There the sentry said,
indicating over his shoulder, a sort of large room hollowed

(01:03:29):
out of the rock, its light shining into the corridor
through wide arched openings. Good pray, Captain, good pray, Peppino
said in Italian, seizing Danglars by the collar of his
frock coat and dragging him towards and opening like a
door through which one could gain access to the room
in which the captain appeared to have made his lodging.
Is this the man, he asked, looking up from Plutarch's

(01:03:52):
Life of Alexander, which he had been reading attentively. That's him, Captain,
that's him. Very well, show him to me on this
rather impertinent order. Peppino brought his torch so sharply up
to Danglar's face that he leapt back, afraid of having
his eyelashes burned. His face pale and distraught, showed all

(01:04:16):
the signs of frightful terror. This man is tired, the
captain said. Let him be shown to his bed. Oh,
Danglars murmured, This bed is probably one of the coffins
around the walls, and that sleep is the sleep of death.
That one of the daggers. I can see shining in

(01:04:36):
the darkness will bring me. Indeed, in the black depths
of the vast hall, rising off their beds of dry
grass or wolf's skin, one could see the companions of
the man whom Albert de morcerf had found reading Caesar's commentaries,
in whom Danglars found reading the Life of Alexander. The
banker emitted a dull groan and followed his guide. He

(01:04:58):
did not try either to pray or to cry out.
He was without strength, will power, or feeling. He went
because he was taken. He tripped against a step, and,
realizing that there was a stairway in front of him,
he bent down instinctively so as not to strike his head,
and found himself in a cell cut out of the
sheer rock. It was clean, if bare, and dry, even

(01:05:22):
though situated in immeasurable depth below the surface of the ground.
A bed of dry grass covered with goatskins was not standing,
but spread out in a corner of this cell. Seeing it,
Danglars thought he saw the glowing symbol of his salvation.
Oh God be praised, He murmured, it's a real bed.

(01:05:44):
This was the second time in the last hour that
he had called on the name of God, something that
had not happened to him for ten years. Echo, the
guide said, and pushing Danglars into the cell, he shut
the door behind him. A bolt grated in. Danglars was
a prisoner. In any case, even if there had been

(01:06:06):
no lock, it would have taken Saint Peter, guided by
a heavenly angel, to pass through the midst of the
garrison which guarded the catacombs of Saint Sebastian, camped around
its leader, in whom the reader will surely have recognized
the celebrated Luigi Vampa. Danglars had most certainly recognized the bandit,
though he had not wanted to believe in the man's existence.

(01:06:26):
When Morcerf had tried to introduce him in France. He
had recognized not only him, but also the cell in
which Morcerf had been imprisoned, in which, in all probability
was a lodging reserved for foreigners. These memories, which as
it happened, Danglars recalled with some joy, brought back a
feeling of calm, since they had not killed him at once.

(01:06:48):
The bandits did not intend to kill him at all.
They had captured him in order to rob him, and
since he had only a few lewis on him, he
would be ransomed. He recalled that Morcerf had been taxed
at around four thousand kas. As he considered himself a
good deal more important than Morcerf, he mentally settled his

(01:07:08):
own price at eight thousand kas, and eight thousand kas
was equivalent to forty eight thousand livres, he would still
be left with something in the region of five million,
fifty thousand francs, with that he could manage anywhere. So,
feeling more or less sure that he would survive the adventure,

(01:07:29):
especially since there was no case in which a man
had ever been held for a ransom of five million,
fifty thousand livres, Danglars lay down on his bed end,
after turning around two or three times, fell asleep as
easy in his mind as the hero whose story Luigi
Vampa was reading c. X V Luigi Vampa's Bill of Fare.

(01:07:51):
Every sleep, apart from the one that Danglars feared, ends
with an awakening. Danglars woke up or Parisian, who was
accustomed to silk curtains, velvet hangings on the walls, and
the scent that rises from wood whitening in the chimney piece,
or is wafted back from a ceiling line in satin.
To wake up in a chalky stone grotto must be
like a dream in the worst possible taste. As he

(01:08:15):
touched the goatskin curtains, Danglars must have thought he was
dreaming about the samoids or the lapse. But in such
circumstances it is only a second before the most intractable
doubt becomes certainty. Yes, he thought, Yes, I'm in the
hands of the bandits, about whom Albert de morcerf was
telling us. His first impulse was to breathe, to make

(01:08:39):
sure that he was not wounded. This was something that
he had come across in Don Quixote, not perhaps the
only book he had read, but the only one of
which he could remember something. No, he said, they have
not killed me or wounded me, but they may perhaps
have robbed me. He quickly felt in his pocket it

(01:09:00):
had not been touched. The hundred Lewis that he had
put aside for his journey from Rome to Venice were
still in his trouser pocket, and the pocket book with
the letter of credit for five million fifty thousand francs
was still in the pocket of his frock coat. These
are strange bandits. He thought to have left me my
purse in my pocket book, as I said yesterday when

(01:09:23):
I went to bed, they will try to ransom me. Well, well,
I still have my watch. Let's see what time it is.
Danglar's watch, a masterpiece by Brigit, which he had carefully
wound up the previous day before setting out, sounded half
past five in the morning. Without it, Danglars would have

(01:09:45):
had no idea of the time, since there was no
daylight in his cell. Should he ask the bandits to
explain themselves. Should he wait patiently until they asked for him?
The second alternative seemed the wiser, so King Lars waited.
He waited until noon. Throughout this time, a sentry had

(01:10:06):
been stationed at his door. At eight in the morning,
the guard was changed, and at this moment Danglars felt
a desire to find out who was guarding him. He
had noticed that rays of light lamplight, not daylight, were
managing to make their way through the ill fitting planks
of the door. He went across to one of these openings,

(01:10:27):
just at the moment when the bandit took a few
gulps of brandy, which, because of the leather bottle that
contained it, exuded an odor that Danglars found quite repellent. Uugh,
he exclaimed, retreating to the far corner of the cell.
At noon, the man with the brandy was replaced by
another operative. Danglars was curious to see his new keeper,

(01:10:49):
so he once more crept over to the gap and
the boards. The new man was an athletic bandit, a
goliath with large eyes, thick lips, a broken nose, and
red hair which hung over his shoulder, and twisted locks
like vipers. Oh my god, Danglars said, this one is
more like an ogre than a human being. In any case,

(01:11:12):
I am old and quite gristly, a fat white, not
good to eat, as we may see. Danglars still had
enough wits about him to joke. At the same moment,
as if to prove that he was no ogre. His
guard sat down in front of the cell door, took
a loaf of black bread out of his haversack, with
some onions and cheese, which he forthwith began to devour.

(01:11:35):
Devil take me, Danglars said, observing the Bandit's dinner through
the gaps in his door. Devil, take me if I
can understand how anyone could eat such filth. He went
and sat down on the goat skin, which reminded him
of the smell of the first Sentry's brandy. However, it
was all very well for Danglars to think that, but

(01:11:56):
the secrets of nature are beyond our understanding, and it
may be that the the crudest of victuals can address
a tangible invitation in quite eloquent terms to a hungry stomach. Suddenly,
Danglars felt that, at this moment his was a bottomless pit.
The man seemed less ugly, the bread less black, and
the cheese less rancid. Finally, those raw onions, the repulsive

(01:12:18):
foodstuff of savages, began to evoke certain sauces robert One,
certain dishes of boiled beef and onions which his cook
had adapted to more refined pallets. When Danglars would tell him,
Monsieur deniso, give us a spot of plain home cooking today,
he got up and went to bang on the door.
The bandit looked up. Danglars saw that he had been

(01:12:39):
heard and banged louder chay kosa. The bandit asked, I say,
I say, my good fellow, Danglars said, tapping his fingers
against the door, isn't it about time someone thought of
feeding me as well? Eh? But either because he did
not understand or because he had no orders regarding Danglar's breakfast,

(01:13:02):
the giant went back to his meal. Danglar's pride was wounded,
and not wishing to compromise himself any further with this brute,
he lay down once more on the goatskin without uttering
another word. Four hours went by, the giant was replaced
by another bandit. Danglars, who was suffering dreadful stomach cramps,

(01:13:24):
quietly got up, put his eye to the door, and
recognized the intelligent face of his guide. It was indeed Peppino,
who was preparing to enjoy his guard duty in as
much comfort as possible, sitting down opposite the door and
placing between his legs and earthenware casserole which contained some
chickpeas tossed in pork fat, hot and redolent. Beside these chickpeas,

(01:13:46):
Peppino set down another pretty little basket of the letri
grapes and a flask of Orvieto wine. Peppino was something
of a gourmet. Danglar's mouth began to water as he
watched these gastronomic preparation. Ah ha, he thought, let's see
if this one is any more amenable than the last,

(01:14:08):
and he hammered gently on his door. On Yva. The
bandit said, thanks to his association with Senior Pastrini's house,
he had eventually learned even idiomatic French. So he came
and opened the door. Danglars recognized him as the man
who had shouted at him in such an enraged tone,

(01:14:28):
put your head in. However, this was no time for recriminations.
On the contrary, he adopted his most pleasant manner and said,
with a gracious smile, I beg your pardon, monsieur, But
am I not also to be given some dinner? What
Peppino exclaimed, is your excellency hungry? By any chance? I

(01:14:52):
like that? By any chance, Danglars thought, it is now
fully twenty four hours since I last ate anything, and
he added aloud, shrugging his shoulders. Yes, I am hungry,
in fact very hungry. So would your excellency like to
eat immediately if possible. Nothing simpler, said Peppino. Here one

(01:15:17):
can get whatever one wishes if one pays, of course,
as is customary among honest Christians. Of course, said Danglars.
Though the fact is that people who arrest you and
throw you in jail should at least feed their prisoners. Oh, excellency,
Peppino replied, that's not customary. That's no argument, Danglars said,

(01:15:41):
hoping detain his keeper with his good humor. But I
shall have to make do with it. Now. Then let
me have something to eat at once, excellency, What is
your pleasure? And Peppino put his bowl on the ground
so that the fumes found their way to directly into
Danglar's nostrils. Give me your order. Do you have kitchens here? Then,

(01:16:07):
the banker asked, what do we have? Kitchens? The finest
kitchens and cooks, superb cooks. Well, then fowl, fish or flesh, anything,
as long as I can eat as your excellency pleases,

(01:16:28):
Shall we say a chicken? Yes, a chicken. Peppino drew
himself up and cried as loudly as he could a
chicken for his excellency. His voice was still echoing under
the vaults. When a young man appeared, handsome, slim and
half naked, like a fish porter in antiquity. He bore

(01:16:48):
in the chicken on a silver plate, balancing it on
his head. This is just like the Cafe de Paris.
Danglars muttered. Here we are, Excellency, pep said, taking the
chicken from the young bandit and putting it down on
a worm eaten table, which, with a stool in the
goatskin bed, made up the entire furniture of the cell.

(01:17:10):
Danglars asked for a knife and fork. There you are, excellency,
Peppino said, offering him a little knife with a rounded
end and a boxwood fork. Danglars took the knife in
one hand and the fork in the other, and set
to work cutting out the piece of poultry. Excuse me, Excellency,
Peppino said, putting a hand on the banker's shoulder. Here

(01:17:34):
we pay before eating. The customer may not be happy
when he leaves. Oh, I see, thought Danglars. It's not
like in Paris, quite apart from the fact that they
are probably going to fleece me. But let's do things
in style. Come now, I've always been told how cheap
it is living in Italy. A chicken must be worth

(01:17:55):
some twelve sous and rome. Here you are, he said,
throwing a Lewis to Peppino. Peppino picked up the Lewis
and Danglars again put the knife on the bird. One moment, excellency,
said Peppino, getting up, Your excellency still owes me something,

(01:18:16):
didn't I say they would fleece me, Danglars muttered, but
resolving to make the best of this extortion, he asked, So,
how much do I still owe you for the skinny
old boiler? Your excellency has given me a Lewis on
account a Lewis on account for a chicken. Yes, indeed, come,

(01:18:40):
you're joking that leaves only four thousand, nine hundred and
ninety nine Louis that your Excellency still owes me? Danglars
stared wide eyed at the announcement of this enormous pleasantry. Oh,
very funny, he muttered, very funny. Indeed, he was about
to go back to cutting up the chicken, but Peppino

(01:19:03):
grasped his right hand with his own left hand while
holding out the other. Come, he said, you're not joking,
Danglars asked, we never joke, excellency, said Peppino, as serious
as a Quaker. What a hundred thousand francs for this chicken? Excellency,

(01:19:27):
You wouldn't believe how hard it is to raise poultry
in these confounded caves. Come, Come, said Danglars. I find
this very entertaining, very amusing, I must say. But as
I'm hungry, let me eat here. There's another Lewis for yourself,

(01:19:47):
my friend, then that will be only four thousand, nine
hundred and ninety eight Lewis, Peppino said, with unaltered equanimity.
If we are patient, we'll get there in the end. Now,
see here, said Danglars, disgusted by this persistent determination to
make fun of him. As far as that goes, never

(01:20:09):
go to hell. You don't know the person you're dealing with.
Peppino made a sign and the young boy reached out
and snatched away the chicken. Danglars threw himself back on
the goatskin bed, and Peppino shut the door, then went
back to eating his chickpeas. Danglars could not see what
Peppino was doing, but the clatter of the bandit's teeth

(01:20:32):
left the prisoner in no doubt as to the nature
of the exercise he was engaged in. It was quite
clear that he was eating, and even that he was
eating very noisily, like a badly brought up young man. Brute,
Danglars said. Peppino pretended not to hear. Without even turning around.

(01:20:53):
He went on eating at a very sensible pace. Danglar's
stomach seemed to have as many holes in it as
the barrel of the Danaid's point two. He couldn't believe
that he would ever manage to fill it. However, he
lasted for another half hour, though it is true to
say that that half hours seemed to him like a century.

(01:21:14):
Then he got up again and went to the door. Come, monsieur,
he said, don't keep me on tenterhooks like this any longer.
Just tell me straight away what you want of me.
But excellency, why not rather say what you want of us,
Give us your orders and we shall carry them out well. First,

(01:21:38):
open the door. Peppino opened it. I want, Danglars said,
by god, I want to eat. You're hungry, as you
very well know. What would your excellency, like to eat
a piece of dry bread, since chicken is priceless in

(01:21:58):
these accursed caves. Bread very well, said Peppino, and he
called out, ho, there, bring some bread. A young boy
brought a roll. There you are, said Peppino. How much,
Danglars asked, four thousand, nine hundred and ninety eight Lewis.

(01:22:22):
You have two Lewis's credit. What a bread roll is
a hundred thousand francs? A hundred thousand, said Peppino. But
you asked me the same price for a chicken. We
don't offer an a la carte menu, only prefix. Whether
you eat a lot or a little, ask for ten

(01:22:44):
dishes or just one, it's still the same amount. This
joke again, my good friend, I tell you this is absurd.
It's ridiculous. Why not tell me at once that you
want me to die of starvation? It would be quicker. No, excellency,
you are the one who wants to commit suicide. Pay

(01:23:07):
up and eat up? What can I pay with you,
frightful creature, Danglars said, in exasperation. Do you think I
carry a hundred thousand francs around in my pocket? You
have five million and fifty thousand francs in your pocket, excellency,
said Peppino. That is a hundred chickens at a hundred

(01:23:29):
thousand francs and half a chicken at fifty thousand. Danglars shuddered,
and the scales fell from his eyes. It was still
a joke, but he understood it at last. It is
even true to say that he found it more piquant
than he had a moment before. Come, Come now, he said,

(01:23:50):
if I give you those hundred thousand francs, will you
at least consider us quits and let me eat in peace?
Of course, said Peppino. But how can I give them
to you, Danglars asked, breathing more freely. Nothing could be easier.
You have a credit with Messrs Thomson and French, the

(01:24:13):
ad Banchee in Rome. Give us a bill for four thousand,
nine hundred and ninety eight lewis on those gentlemen, and
our banker will cash it for us. Danglars at least
wanted to show willing. He took the pen and paper
which Peppino offered him, wrote out the order and signed it. There.

(01:24:34):
He said, that's a bill payable to bearer and that's
your chicken. Danglars cut into the fowl with a sigh.
It seemed to him very thin for such a large
sum of money. As for Peppino, He read the paper carefully,
put it in his pocket, and went on eating his
chickpeas c x v I the pardon. The next day

(01:25:01):
Danglars was hungry again. The air of this cave was
decidedly stimulating to the appetite, but the prisoner thought that
today he would have no further expense. Being a thrifty man,
he had hidden half of his chicken and a piece
of his bread in the corner of the cell. But
no sooner had he eaten them than he was thirsty.

(01:25:23):
He had not thought of that. He struggled against his
thirst until he felt his parched tongue sticking to his palate. Then,
unable to resist the fire devouring him, he called out.
The sentry opened the door. It was a new face.
Danglars felt that it would be better to deal with
a more familiar one, and called for Peppino. Here, I am, excellency,

(01:25:48):
the bandit said, arriving promptly, which seemed a good omen
to the banker. What would you like something to drink.
The prisoner said, excellence, you know that wine is ridiculously
expensive in the region around Rome. Then give me water,
said Danglars, trying to parry the blow. Oh, excellency, water

(01:26:12):
is even scarcer than wine. The drought has been so bad,
I see, said Danglars. It appears that we are going
to start that again. Though he was smiling to give
the impression that he was joking, the wretch felt sweat
beating on his forehead. Now, now, friend, he continued, when

(01:26:33):
Peppino made no response, I'm asking you for a glass
of wine. Will you refuse me? I've already told your
excellency that we don't sell retail or by the glass,
said Peppino. Very well, give me a bottle of which
the cheaper. They are both the same price, which is

(01:27:00):
twenty five thousand francs a bottle. Tell me, said Danglars,
with a bitterness that only harpagon One could have noted
on the scale of the human voice. Tell me that
you want to skin me alive, It would be quicker
than devouring me piecemeal. Perhaps that is what the master intends,
said Peppino, Who is the master, the one to whom

(01:27:24):
you were taken the day before yesterday, and where is
he here? Let me see him, that's easy. A moment later,
Luigi Vampa was standing in front of Danglars. Did you
call for me, he asked his prisoner. Are you the

(01:27:45):
leader of those who brought me here? Monsieur? Yes, excellency,
What ransom do you want from me? Tell me just
the five million you have on you. Danglars felt a
dreadful shudder run through his heart. That is all I
have in the world, monsieur, he said, and the remains

(01:28:07):
of a vast fortune. If you take that away from me,
take my life. We have been forbidden to shed your blood, excellency,
by whom, by the person whom we obey. So you
do obey somebody? Yes, a leader. I thought that you

(01:28:29):
yourself were the leader. I am the leader of these men.
But another is my leader. And does this leader obey anyone? Yes?
Whom God, Danglars thought for a moment, I don't understand,

(01:28:51):
he said, Possibly, did the leader tell you to treat
me in this way? Yes? Why I don't know, but
my money will run out probably. Come, come, said Danglars.

(01:29:12):
Would you like a million? No, two, No, three million. Four?
Come now, four million. I'll give it to you on
condition you let me go. Why do you offer us
four million for something that is worth five, said Vampa.

(01:29:36):
That's usury, senior banker. If I'm not mistaken, take it all,
Take it all, I say, Danglars said, and kill me. Come, come, excellency,
calm yourself. You will whip up your blood, and that
will give you an appetite to eat a million a day.

(01:29:58):
Be more economical. Please, But when I have no more
money to pay you, Danglars said, in exasperation, then you'll
go hungry. Go hungry, said Danglars, turning pale. Quite probably,
said Vampa, with admirable equanimity. But you said you did

(01:30:21):
not wish to kill me. No, yet you do want
to let me starve to death. That's different. Well, you wretches,
Danglars cried, I shall foil your vile schemes. If I
have to die, I should rather get it over at once.
Make me suffer, torture me, kill me. But you shall

(01:30:44):
not have my signature again as you wish, excellency, said Vampa,
and he left the cell with a roar of frustration.
Danglars threw himself down on his goatskin. Who were these men?
Who was their invisible leader? What plan were they carrying

(01:31:04):
out against him? And when every one else was able
to buy freedom, why could he not do the same. Oh? Certainly, death,
sudden and violent, was a good way to foil his
implacable enemies, who seemed to be pursuing him with some
incomprehensible desire for vengeance. Yes, but that meant dying. Perhaps

(01:31:26):
for the first time in his long career, Danglars thought
of death with a simultaneous desire and a fear of dying.
The moment had come for him to look directly at
the implacable specter which hovers over every living creature, in
which at every heartbeat says to itself, you will die.
Danglars was like one of those wild animals that at
first are excited by the hunt, then are driven to desperation,

(01:31:48):
and which sometimes, in their very desperation, managed to escape.
It was of escape that Danglars was thinking. But the
walls were solid rock, and in front of the only
entry to the sell a man was reading. Behind him
could be seen the shapes of others with rifles passing
back and forth. His determination not to sign lasted for

(01:32:10):
two days, after which he asked for food and offered
a million. He was served a magnificent dinner, and they
took his million. From then on, the unfortunate prisoner's life
was one of continual rambling. He had suffered so much
that he no longer wished to expose himself to suffering,
and he gave in to every demand after twelve days,

(01:32:33):
one afternoon, when he had just eaten as he used
to in the days when he had been rich, he
did his accounts and discovered that he had signed so
many bills to bearer that he had only fifty thousand
francs left. His reaction to this discovery was an odd one.
Having just given up five million, he tried to save
these last fifty thousand francs. Rather than give up his

(01:32:55):
fifty thousand francs, he resolved to suffer a life of privation.
He had glimp of hope that were close to madness.
Having long forgotten God, he recalled only that God had
sometimes performed miracles that the cave might collapse, that the
pontifical carabinieri might discover this accursed retreat and come to
his aid that then he would have fifty thousand francs left,

(01:33:16):
and that this was enough to prevent a man dying
of hunger. He begged God to let him keep these
fifty thousand francs, and as he prayed he wept. Three
days passed in which the name of God was constantly,
if not in his heart, at least on his lips.
From time to time he had moments of delirium in
which he thought he could see through the window a

(01:33:38):
miserable room in which an old man lay dying on
a straw pallet. The old man, too, was dying of starvation.
On the fourth day, he was no longer a man,
but a living corpse. He had grubbed up from the
earth the smallest crumb from his previous meals, and began
to devour the matting which covered the earth. Then he

(01:33:59):
begged Peppino, as one might beg a guardian angel, to
give him some food. He offered him a thousand francs
for a mouthful of bread, but Peppino did not answer.
On the fifth day, he dragged himself to the door
of the cell. Aren't you a Christian? He said, hauling
himself to his knees. Do you wish to murder a

(01:34:21):
man who is your brother before God? Oh? My former friends,
my former friends, he muttered, and he fell face down
on the ground. Then, raising himself with a sort of despair,
he cried the leader, the leader, here, I am, said Vampa,

(01:34:41):
suddenly appearing. What do you want now, take the last
of my gold, Danglars stammered, offering his pocket book, and
let me live here in this cave. I am not
asking for freedom, I am only asking to live. So
are you you really suffering? Vampa asked, Oh, yes, I

(01:35:06):
am suffering cruelly. But there are men who have suffered
more than you have. I cannot believe it. It is
so those who died of hunger. Danglars thought of the
old man whom he had seen through the windows of
his mean room and his hallucinations. Groaning on his bed,

(01:35:28):
he beat his forehead against the ground, moaning, It's true
there are those who have suffered more than I do,
but they at least were martyrs. Do you at least repent?
Asked a dark and solemn voice, which made the hair
stand up on Danglar's head. His weakened eyes tried to
make out things in the darkness, and behind the bandit
he saw a man wrapped in a cloak and half

(01:35:49):
hidden by the shadow of a stone pillar. Of what
must I repent, Danglars stammered, Of the evil you have done,
said the same voice. Oh, yes, I do repent, I do,
Danglars cried, and he beat his breast with his emaciated fist.

(01:36:11):
Then I pardon you, said the man, throwing aside his
cloak and taking a step into the light. The Count
of Monte Cristo, Danglars, said, terror, making him more pale
than he had been a moment before from hunger and misery.
You are mistaken. I am not the Count of Monte Cristo.

(01:36:32):
Who are you? Then? I am the one whom you sold, betrayed,
and dishonored. I am the one whose fiance you prostituted.
I am the one on whom you trampled in order
to attain a fortune. I am the one whose father
you condemned to starvation, and the one who condemned you
to starvation, but who none the less forgives you because

(01:36:54):
he himself needs forgiveness. I am Edmund Dantes Danglars gave
a single cry and fell prostrate. Get up, said the Count.
Your life is safe. The same good fortune did not
attend your two accomplices. One is mad, the other is dead.

(01:37:15):
Keep your last fifty thousand francs. I give them to you.
As for the five million you stole from the almshouses,
they have already been returned by an anonymous donor. Now
eat and drink this evening. You are my guest, Vampa.
When this man has had his fill, he will be free.

(01:37:37):
Danglars remained prostrate while the Count walked away. When he
looked up, he saw only a sort of shadow disappearing
down the corridor, while the bandits bowed as it passed.
As the Count had ordered, Vampa served Danglars. He brought
him the best wine and finest fruits of Italy, and
having put him into his post, Chaise left him on

(01:37:57):
the road with his back to a tree. He stayed
there until dawn, not knowing where he was. When day broke,
he found that he was near a stream. He was thirsty,
so he dragged himself over to it. Leaning over the
water to drink, he observed that his hair had turned gray.

(01:38:18):
Sea x v Ayey October the fifth. It was around
six in the evening and light, the color of opal
pierced by the golden rays of the autumn sun spread
over a bluish sea. The heat of the day had
gradually expired, and one was starting to feel the light breeze,
which seems like the breath of nature awaking after the

(01:38:39):
burning midday siesta, the delicious breath that cools the Mediterranean
coast and carries the scent of trees from shore to shore,
mingled with the acrid scent of the sea. Over the
huge lake that extends from Gibraltar to the Dardanelles and
from Tunas to Venice, a light yacht, cleanly and elegantly shaped,
was slipping through the first mists of evening. Its movement

(01:39:01):
was that of a swan, opening its wings to the
wind and appearing to glide across the water. At once
swift and graceful, it advanced, leaving behind a phosphorescent wake.
Bit by bit, the sun, whose last rays we were describing,
fell below the western horizon, but as though confirming the
brilliant fantasies of mythology, its prying flames reappeared at the

(01:39:23):
crest of every wave, as if to reveal that the
god of Fire had just hidden his face in the
bosom of Amphitrite, who tried in vain to hide her
lover in the folds of her azure robe, though there
was apparently not enough wind to lift the ringlets on
a girl's head. The yacht was traveling fast. Standing in
its bow, a tall bronze man was staring white eyed

(01:39:43):
at the dark, conical mass of land rising from the
midst of the waves like a Catalan hat. Is that,
Monte Cristo asked the traveler, who appeared to be in
command of the yacht, in a grave and melancholy voice. Yes, excellency,
said the man, We are just reaching the end of
our journey. The end of our journey, the traveler muttered

(01:40:07):
with an indefinable note of dejection. Then he added under
his breath, yes, this is port, and he relapsed into
thoughts that expressed themselves in a smile sadder than tears.
A few minutes later, he saw an onshore light that
was immediately extinguished, and the sound of a gunshot reached
the yacht. Excellency, the master said, that is the signal

(01:40:32):
from on shore. Would you like to reply? What signal?
He asked. The master pointed towards the island, from the
side of which a single whitish plume of smoke was rising,
spreading and breaking up as it mounted into the sky. Oh, yes,
the traveler said, as if waking from a dream. Give

(01:40:54):
it to me. The master offered him a ready loaded carbine.
He took it, slowly, raised it, and fired into the air.
Ten minutes later they were furling the sails and dropping
anchor five hundred yards outside a little port. The boat
was already in the sea with four oarsmen and a pilot.

(01:41:16):
The traveler got in, but instead of sitting in the prow,
which was furnished with a blue carpet, he remained standing
with his arms crossed. The oarsmen waited with their oars
poised above the water, like birds drying their wings. Go,
said the traveler. The eight doors dipped into the sea simultaneously,

(01:41:36):
without a single splash in The boat, driven forward, began
to glide rapidly across the water. In no time they
were in a small bay formed by a natural fold
in the rock. The boat grated on a fine sandy bottom. Excellency,
the pilot said, climb on the shoulders of two of
our men. They will take you ashore. The young man

(01:41:59):
replied to the invitation with a gesture of complete indifference,
put his legs over the side of the boat and
slid into the water, which came up to his waist. Oh, excellency,
the pilot muttered, you are wrong to do that. The
Master will tell us off. The young man continued to
plow forward towards the shore, following two sailors who chose

(01:42:22):
the best route. After thirty paces they had landed, he
shook his feet on dry land and looked around for
the path that he would probably be told to follow
because it was quite dark. Just as he was turning
his head, a hand rested on his shoulder, and he
shuddered at hearing a voice say, good day, Maximilian. You

(01:42:43):
are punctual. Thank you, it's you. Count the young man exclaimed,
with a movement which could have been one of joy,
grasping Monte Cristo's hand in both of his Yes, as
you see as punctual as you, But you are you're
soaking wet, my dear fellow. You must get changed. As

(01:43:04):
Calypso used to say to till le matches point one. Come,
I've got rooms all ready for you where you can
forget tiredness and cold. Monte Cristo saw that Morel was
looking around. He waited. Indeed, the young man was surprised
that he had not heard a word from those who
had brought him. He had not paid them, and yet
they had left. He could even hear the plashing of

(01:43:27):
the oars on the little boat taking them back to
the yacht. Ah, you're looking for your sailors, said the count. Yes,
of course they left without me giving them anything. Don't
bother about that, Maximilian monte Cristo said, with a laugh.
I have a deal with the navy so that there

(01:43:49):
is no charge for passage to my island. I'm an
account customer, as they say in civilized countries. Morel looked
at him with astonishingishment. Count, he said, you are not
the same as you are in Paris in what way?
Why here you laugh? Monte Cristo's brow clouted immediately. You

(01:44:15):
are right to recall me to myself, he said. Seeing
you again was a pleasure for me, and I forgot
that every pleasure is transitory. Oh no, no, count, Moral
exclaimed once more, grasping his friend's hand with both of
his Please do laugh, be happy, and proved to me

(01:44:36):
by your indifference that life is only a burden for
those who suffer. Oh, you are generous, you are kind,
you are good, my friend, and you pretend to be
happy only to give me strength. You are wrong, moral,
said monte Cristo. I really was happy. Then you have
forgotten me so much the better. What do you mean,

(01:45:02):
Because you know, my dear friend, I say to you,
as the gladiator would say to the sublime emperor on
entering the arena, those who are about to dis salute you.
You are not consoled, then, Monte Cristo asked, with a
strange look. Oh did you really think I could be? Moral,
answered with one full of reproach. Listen, the count said,

(01:45:27):
and listen carefully to what I am about to say.
You don't think I am some vulgar babbler, a rattle
that gives out a crude and meaningless sound. When I
asked you if you were consoled, I was speaking to
you as a man for whom the human heart holds
no secrets. Well, then, Moral, let us sound the depths
of your heart. Is it still that ardent impatience of

(01:45:50):
pain that makes the body leap like a lion bitten
by a mosquito. Is it still that raging thirst that
can be sated only in the tomb? Is is it
that ideal notion of regret that launches the living man
out of life in pursuit of death? Or is it
merely the prostration of exhausted courage, the only that stifles
the ray of hope as it tries to shine. Is

(01:46:13):
it the loss of memory bringing in impotence of tears? Oh,
my friend, If it is that, if you can no
longer weep, if you think your numbed heart is dead,
if you have no strength left except in God, and
no eyes except for Heaven, then my friend, let us
put aside words that are too narrow to contain the
meanings our soul would give them. Maximilian, you are consoled.

(01:46:34):
Pity yourself no longer, Count moral, said in a voice
that was at once soft and firm. Count. Listen to
me as you would listen to a man pointing towards
the earth and with his eyes raised to heaven. I
came here to join you so that I might die
in the arms of a friend. Admittedly, there are those

(01:46:55):
whom I love. I love my sister Julie. I love
her husband Emmanuel. But I need some one to open
strong arms to me and smile at my last moments.
My sister would burst into tears and faint. I should
see her suffer, and I have suffered enough. Emmanuel would
seize the weapon from my hands and fill the house
with his cries. You Count have given me your word.

(01:47:19):
You are more than a man. I should call you
a god if you were not mortal. You will leave
me gently and tenderly. I know to the gates of death,
my friend, said the Count. I have one lingering doubt.
Will you be so weak as to pride yourself on
the exhibition of your grief? No, No, I am a

(01:47:39):
plain man, Morl said, offering the Count's hand. See my
pulse is not beating any faster or slower than usual. No,
I feel I am at the end of the road.
I shall go no further. You told me to wait
in hope. Do you know what you have done? Wise
as you are. I have waited a month, which means

(01:48:00):
I have suffered a month. I hoped. Man is such
a poor and miserable creature. I hoped for what I
don't know, something unimaginable, absurd, senseless, a miracle, but what
God alone knows. For it was he who diluted our
reason with that madness called hope. Yes I waited, Yes, Count,

(01:48:22):
I hoped. And in the past quarter of an hour
while we have been speaking, you have unwittingly broken and
tortured my heart a hundred times. For each of your
words proved to me that I have no hope left.
Oh Count, let me rest in the sweet and voluptuous
bosom of death. Morel spoke the last words with an
explosion of energy that made the Count shudder. My friend,

(01:48:46):
he continued. When the Count did not reply, you named
October the fifth as the end of the reprieve that
you asked me to accept, And my friend, this is
the fifth. Morel took out his watch. It is nine o'clock.
I have three hours left to live. Very well, Monte

(01:49:07):
Cristo replied, Come with me. Moral followed mechanically, and they
were already in the grotto. Before Moral had realized it.
He found carpets under his feet. A door opened, he
was enveloped in perfumes, and a bright light dazzled in.
He stopped reluctant to go on, he was wary of

(01:49:30):
being weakened by the delights around him. Monte Cristo pulled
him gently forward. Is it not appropriate, he said, for
us to spend the three hours we have left like
those ancient Romans, who, when they were condemned to death
by Nero, their emperor and their heir, would sit at
a table decked with flowers and breathe in death with
the scent of heliotropes and roses. Moral smiled and said,

(01:49:54):
as you wish, death is still death, that is to say, forgetfulness,
rest the oblo sense of life, and so the absence
of pain. He sat down, and Monte Cristo took his
place in front of him. They were in the wonderful
dining room that we have already described, where marble statues
carried baskets full of fruit and flowers on their heads.

(01:50:17):
Moral had looked vaguely at all this and had probably
seen nothing of it. Let's speak, Manda, Man, he said,
staring hard at the Count. Go on. The latter replied, Count,
you are an encyclopedia of all human knowledge, and you
strike me as someone who has come down from a
more advanced and wiser world than our own. There is

(01:50:40):
some truth in that moral, the Count said, with a
melancholy smile that transfigured his face. I have come from
a planet called sorrow. I believe whatever you tell me
without trying to elucidate its meaning. Count. The proof is
that you told me to live, and I have lived,
told me to hope, and I almost hoped. So I

(01:51:03):
shall dare to ask you, as if you had already
died once before. Count, does it hurt very much? Monte
Cristo looked at Moral with an infinite expression of tenderness. Yes,
he said, Yes, no doubt, it does hurt. If you
brutally shatter the mortal envelope when it is crying out
to live, If you make your flesh scream under the

(01:51:26):
imperceptible teeth of a dagger, if you drive an insensitive bullet,
always ready to meander on its way through your brain,
which suffers from the merest jolt. Yes, indeed, you will
suffer and leave life in the most horrifying way, in
a desperate agony that will make you ready to think
it better than rest bought at such a price. I understand,
said moral death has its secrets of pain and pleasure

(01:51:50):
like life. It is just a question of knowing what
they are. Precisely, Maximilian, you have hit the nail on
the head. Death, to the care we take to be
on good or bad terms with it is either a
friend which will rock us as gently as a nursing mother,
or an enemy which will savagely tear apart body and soul.

(01:52:10):
One day, when our world has lived another thousand years,
when people have mastered all the destructive forces of nature
and harnessed them to the general good of mankind, and when,
as you just said, men have learned the secrets of death,
then death will be as sweet and voluptuous as sleep
in a lover's arms. And you count, if you wanted
to die, would you know how to die? In that way?

(01:52:33):
I should moral reached out his hand. Now I understand,
He said, why you have brought me here to this
desolate island in the midst of the ocean, to this
subterranean palace a tone that a pharaoh would envy. It
was because you loved me, wasn't it count? You love
me enough to give me one of those deaths that

(01:52:54):
you spoke of just now, A death without agony, a
death that will allow me to expire with Valentine's name
on my lips and your hand in mine. You are right, Moral,
the Count said, simply, that's how I see it. Thank you.
The idea that tomorrow I shall no longer suffer is
like bomb to my heart. Is there nothing you will miss?

(01:53:19):
Monte Cristo asked, no, Moral replied, not even me, The
Count asked, with deep feeling. Moral stopped. His clear eyes
suddenly clouded, then shone with even greater brilliance. A large
tear rolled from it and left a silver trace across
his cheek. What, the Count exclaimed, There is something you

(01:53:43):
will regret leaving on earth? Yet you want to die? Oh,
I beg you, Moral cried in a weak voice, not
a word, Count, do not prolong my agony. The Count
feared that Moral was weakening, and this belief moment verily
revived the terrible doubt that had already once struck him
in the Chateau d'i. If I am engaged in giving

(01:54:06):
this man back his happiness, he thought, I consider that
restitution is a weight thrown back into the scales in
the opposite tray from the one where I cast evil.
Now suppose I am wrong? And this man is not
unhappy enough to deserve happiness. Alas, what would happen to me,
I who am unable to atone for evil except by

(01:54:27):
doing good? Listen to me, Moral, he said, your grief
is immense. I can see that. But you believe in God.
Perhaps you do not wish to risk the salvation of
your soul. Moral smiled sadly. Count, he said, you know
that I do not exaggerate, but I swear my soul
is no longer my own. Listen, Moral, the Count said,

(01:54:52):
I have no living relative. As you know, I have
grown accustomed to thinking of you as my son. Well,
to save my son, I would sacrifice my life, and
even more readily, my fortune. What do you mean, I mean, Moral,
that you want to leave life because you do not
know all the pleasures that life gives to the very rich. Moral,

(01:55:16):
I possess nearly a hundred million. You can have it.
With that much money, you could achieve anything you desire.
Are you ambitious? Every career is open to you. Stir
up the world, change it, commit any kind of folly,
be a criminal. If you must but live, Count, I

(01:55:37):
have your word, the young man replied coldly, and he added,
taking out his watch. It is half past eleven. Could
you do such a thing moral in my house before
my eyes? Then let me leave, Maximilian said, his face clouding,
Or I shall think you don't love me for myself,

(01:55:58):
but for you. And he got up very well. Then
said monte Cristo, his face lightning at these words. You
want it moral, and you are immovable. Yes, you are
profoundly unhappy, and as you said, only a miracle could
cure you. Sit down and wait. The young man obeyed.

(01:56:22):
Monte Cristo got up in his turn and went to
open a carefully locked cupboard, the key to which he
wore on a gold chain. He took out a little
silver casket, magnificently sculpted and modeled, with four arched figures
at the four corners like pining carrey adids, shape like women,
symbols of angels reaching for heaven. He put the casket

(01:56:43):
down on the table, then opened it, taking out a
little gold box, the lid of which was raised by
pressure on a hidden spring. This box contained a half
congealed boily substance, its color indefinable because of the shining
gold and the sapphires, rubies and emeralds in cro trusting it.
It was like a shimmering mass of blue, purple and gold.

(01:57:06):
The Count took a small quantity of the substance on
an enameled spoon and offered it to Moral, fixing his
eyes on him. Only now could it be seen that
the substance was green in color. This is what you
asked me for, he said, This is what I promised
you while I still have life, the young man said,

(01:57:26):
taking the spoon from Monty Cristo's hands, I thank you
from the bottom of my heart. The Count took a
second spoon and dipped once more into the gold box.
What are you doing, my dear friend, Moral asked, grasping
his hand. Why Moral, the other said, with a smile,

(01:57:49):
God forgive me, but I think that I am as
weary of life as you are. And while the opportunity
presents itself, stop, The young man cried, Oh, you who
loven are loved? You, who can trust in hope? Oh
don't you do what I am about to do for you.
It would be a crime. Farewell, my noble and generous friend.

(01:58:12):
I shall tell Valentine all that you have done for me,
and slowly, without any more hesitation than of pressure on
the left hand, which he was holding out to the count.
Moral swallowed, or rather savored, the mysterious substance that monte
Cristo had offered him. Then both men fell silent, Ali,
noiseless and attentive, brought tobacco and pipes, served coffee, and

(01:58:36):
then vanished. Little by little. The lamps paled in the
hands of the marble statues holding them, and the perfume
from the censers seemed less pervasive to Moral. Opposite him,
monte Cristo was watching him through the dark, and he
could see nothing except the burning of the Count's eyes.
The young man was overwhelmed with an immense pain. He

(01:58:58):
felt the hookah fall from his hands, and the objects
around him gradually lost their shape and color. His clouded
eyes seemed to see doors and curtains opening in the walls.
My friend, he said, I feel I am dying. Thank you.
He made one last effort to hold out his hand,
but it fell powerless beside him, And now it seemed

(01:59:22):
to him that monte Cristo was smiling no longer, with
that strange and terrifying smile that had several times allowed
him to glimpse the mysteries of that profound soul, but
with the tender compassion of a father towards the follies
of his child. At the same time, the Count was
growing before his eyes, his figure almost doubled in size,
outlined against the red hangings. He had thrown back his

(01:59:46):
black hair and stood proudly like one of those avenging
angels with which the Wickeder threatened on judgment day, moral beaten, overwhelmed,
slumped back in his chair. A silky torpor filled his
every vein his mind was refurnished, as it were, by
a change of thoughts, just like a new pattern appearing
in a kaleidoscope. Lying back, panting, excited, he felt nothing

(02:00:11):
more living in him apart from this dream. He seemed
to be plunging directly into the vague delirium that precedes
that other unknown called death. Once again, he tried to
reach out to take the Count's hand, but this time
his own would not even budge. He tried to water
a last goodbye, but his tongue turned heavily in his

(02:00:31):
mouth like a stone blocking the entrance to a sepulcher.
Hard as he tried, he could not keep his languid
eyes open. Yet behind their lids there was an image
that he recognized, despite the darkness which he felt had
enveloped him. It was the Count who had just opened
the door. At once, an immense burst of light flooded

(02:00:51):
from an adjoining room, or rather a wonderful palace, into
the room where Moral was abandoning himself to his gentle
death rows. And then on the threshold of that other
chamber between the two rooms, he saw a woman of
miraculous beauty, pale and sweetly smiling. She seemed like an
angel of mercy, casting out the angel of vengeance. Is

(02:01:14):
Heaven already opening its gate to me, thought the dying man.
This angel is like the one I lost. Monte Cristo
pointed the young woman to the sofa where Moral was lying,
and she stepped forward with her hands clasped and smiling
lips Valentine. Valentine Moral cried in the depths of his soul,

(02:01:38):
but his throat did not utter a sound, and as
though all his strength had been concentrated on that inner feeling,
he gave a sigh and closed his eyes. Valentine dashed forward.
Moral's lips moved again. He is calling you, said the Count.
He is calling you from the depth of his sleep,

(02:01:58):
the man to whom you have entrusted your fate, and
from whom death tried to separate you. But fortunately I
was there and I overcame death. Valentine, from now on
you must never be separated on this earth, because to
rejoin you, he would leap into his grave. Without me,
you would both have died. I give you back to

(02:02:18):
one another. May God credit me with these two lives
that I have saved. Valentine clasped Monte Cristo by the
hand end with an irresistible burst of joy, put it
to her lips. Yes, yes, he said, thank me. Oh,
tell me over and over again, never tire of telling

(02:02:39):
me that I have made you happy. You do not
know how much I need the certainty of that. Oh yes,
I thank you with all my soul, Valentine said. And
if you doubt the sincerity of my thanks, ask HATI
ask my dear sister Hadi, who has made me wait
patiently since our departure from France, talk to me of

(02:03:00):
you until this happy day that has now dawned. Do
you love Haiti, Monte Cristo asked, with ill disguised emotion.
Oh yes, with all my heart. Then, Valentine, listen to me,
said the Count. I have a favor to beg of you,

(02:03:21):
of me good heavens, am I fortunate enough for that
you called Haiti your sister. Let her be your sister. Indeed, Valentine,
give her everything that you think you owe to me,
protect her, you and moral because and hear the Count's
voice was almost stifled in his throat. Because from now

(02:03:43):
on she will be alone in the world. Alone in
the world, repeated a voice from behind the place where
the Count was standing. Why Monte Cristo turned and saw Haiti,
pale and ice cold, giving him a look of utter disbelief.
Because tomorrow, my child, you will be free, he replied,

(02:04:05):
because you will resume your proper place in the world.
And because I do not want my fate to cloud
your own. You are the daughter of a prince. I
am restoring your father's wealth and your father's name to you.
Hate's face was drained of color. She opened her translucent
hands like a virgin, recommending her soul to God, and said,

(02:04:25):
in a voice harsh with tears, So, my Lord, you
are leaving me HATI Hate. You are young and beautiful,
forget even my name and be happy. Very well, said hate.
Your orders will be carried out, my Lord. I shall
forget even your name, and I shall be happy, And

(02:04:48):
she took a pace backwards to leave the room. Oh
my god, cried Valentine, who was supporting Moral's numbed head
on her shoulder. Can't you see how pale she he is?
Don't you realize what she is suffering? Haiti addressed her,
with a heartrending expression on her face. How do you

(02:05:08):
expect him to understand me? My sister? He is my
master and I his slave. He has the right to
see nothing. The count shuddered at the tone of this voice,
which awoke the deepest fibers of his being. His eyes
met those of the young woman and could not bear
to look into them. My god, my god, he said,

(02:05:32):
Can what you hinted to me be true? Haiti? Would
you be happy then not to leave me? I am young,
she answered softly. I love life, which you have always
made so pleasant for me. I should be sorry to die.
Do you mean that if I were to leave you, Haiti? Yes,

(02:05:52):
my lord, I should die. Do you love me, then,
oh Valentine, he asked, if I love him, tell him
do you love Maximilian? The Count felt his breast swell
and his heart fell. He opened his arms and Haiti
threw herself into them with a cry, Oh yes, Oh yes,

(02:06:18):
I love you, she said. I love you as one
loves a father, a brother, a husband. I love you
as one loves life and loves God. For you are
to me the most beautiful, the best and greatest of
created beings. Let it be as you will, my sweet angel,
said the count. God who roused me against my enemies

(02:06:39):
and gave me victory. God, I can see, does not
wish my victory to end with that regret. I wish
to punish myself, but God wants to pardon me. So
love me, Hadi, who knows? Perhaps your love will make
me forget what I have to forget. What are you saying,

(02:07:00):
my lord, the young woman asked. I am saying that
a word from you, Haiti, enlighten me more than twenty
years of sage wisdom I have only left in the world. Haiti.
It is through you that I am attached to life.
Through you I can suffer, and through you I can
be happy. Do you hear that, Valentine? Hadi cried. He

(02:07:24):
says that through me. He can suffer through me when
I would give my life for him. The Count thought,
for a moment, have I understood the truth? Oh God,
what matter reward or punishment? I accept my fate. Come, Haiti, Come,

(02:07:45):
and putting his arm round the young woman's waist, he
pressed Valentine's hand and disappeared. About an hour passed, in which,
breathing heavily and staring, unable to speak, Valentine remained by
moral side. Finally she felt his heart beat. A barely
perceptible breath passed his lips, and the young man's whole
body was shaken, but that slight shudder which indicates returning life.

(02:08:09):
Finally his eyes opened, though at first they stared wildly.
Then sight returned sharp and true, and with it feeling
and with feeling pain. Oh, he wailed in a desperate voice,
I am still alive. The Count deceived me, and his
hand reached for a knife on the table. My friend

(02:08:33):
said Valentine, with her irresistible smile, wake up and look
towards me morel gave a great cry and delirious, full
of doubt, dazzled as though by some celestial vision, he
fell on both knees The next day, with the first
rays of sunlight, Moral and Valentine were walking arm in
arm on the shore, Valentine telling Moral how monte Cristo

(02:08:55):
had appeared in her room, how he had revealed everything
to her, how he had made her unvailed the criminal,
and finally, how he had miraculously saved her from death
while letting every one believe that she was dead. They
had found the door to the grotto open and had
gone out. The last stars were still shining in the
blue of the morning sky, and in the half light

(02:09:17):
of a cluster of rocks. Morel saw a man waiting
for a sign to come over to them. He pointed
him out to Valentine. Oh that's Chacapo, she said, motioning
to him to join them. The captain of the yacht,
do you have something to tell us, Moral asked, I

(02:09:39):
have this letter to give you on behalf of the count.
From the count. The two young people exclaimed in unison, Yes,
read it. Morel opened the letter and read, my dear Maximilian,
there is a felucca lying at anchor for you. Jacopo

(02:10:01):
will take you to Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier is awaiting
his granddaughter, whom he wishes to bless before she follows
you to the altar. Everything that is in this grotto,
my friend, my house in the champsai Las, and my
little country house in Lutreport are a wedding present from
Edmund Dantes to the son of his master. Moral. Mademoiselle
de Villefort must have half of it, because I beg

(02:10:23):
her to give the poor people of Paris whatever money
she is coming to her from her father who has
become mad, and her brother, who died last September. With
her stepmother, Tell the angel who will watch over your life, Moral,
to pray sometimes for a man who, like Satan, momentarily
thought himself the equal of God, and who, with all
the humility of a Christian came to realize that in

(02:10:45):
God's hands alone resides supreme power and infinite wisdom. These
prayers may perhaps ease the remorse that he takes with
him and the depth of his heart. As for you, Moral,
this is the whole secret of my behavior towards you.
There is neither happiness nor misfortune in this world. There
is merely the comparison between one state and another, nothing more.

(02:11:07):
Only someone who has suffered the deepest misfortune is capable
of experiencing the heights of felicity. Maximilian, you must needs
have wished to die to know how good it is
to live. So do live and be happy. Children, Dear
to my heart, and never forget that until the day
when God deigns to unveil the future to mankind, all

(02:11:28):
human wisdom is contained in these two words. Wait and hope,
your friend, Edmund Dantes, Count of Monte Cristo, while he
was reading this letter, which informed her of her father's
madness and the death of her brother, neither of which
she had known until then. Valentine, when pale and gave
a painful sigh, tears no less touching for being silent,

(02:11:51):
ran down her cheeks. She had purchased her happiness at
a high price. Moral looked around him anxiously. But the
Count really is being too generous, he said. Valentine will
be happy with my modest fortune. Where is the Count,
my friend, take me to him. Gacapo pointed to the horizon.

(02:12:16):
Why what do you mean, Valentine asked, where is the count?
Where is Haiti? Look, said Gacapo. The two young people
looked in the direction towards which the sailor was pointing
in on the dark blue line on the horizon that
separated the sky from the Mediterranean, They saw a white

(02:12:39):
sail as large as a gull's wing. He is gone,
cried Noral gone. Farewell, my friend, my father, Yes, he
is gone. Valentine muttered, farewell, my friend, farewell, my sister.

(02:13:01):
Who knows if we shall ever see them again, Morle said,
wiping away a tear, My dearest, said Valentine, Has the
Count not just told us that all human wisdom was
contained in these two words? Wait and hope? The end
About the author. Alexander Dumas was born in eighteen o

(02:13:24):
two at Villar's Corterats. His father, the illegitimate son of
a marquis, was a general in the Revolutionary armies, but
died when Dumas was only four. He was brought up
in straitened circumstances and received very little education. He joined
the household of the future King Louis Philippe and began

(02:13:44):
reading voraciously. Later he entered the senecal of Charles Nodier
and started writing. In eighteen twenty nine, the production of
his play Henry three et s a corps heralded twenty
years of successful playwriting. In eighteen thirty nine, he turned
his attention to writing historical novels, often using collaborators such

(02:14:06):
as Auguste Mackay to suggest plots or historical background. His
most successful novels are The Count of Monte Cristo, which
appeared during eighteen forty four to five, and The Three Musketeers,
published in eighteen forty four. Other novels deal with the
wars of religion and the Revolution. Dumas wrote many of

(02:14:26):
these for the newspapers, often in daily installments, marshaling his
formidable energies to produce evermore in order to pay off
his debts. In addition, he wrote travel books, children's stories,
and his memoirs, which described most amusingly his early life
his entry into Parisian literary circles in the eighteen thirty Revolution.

(02:14:47):
He died in eighteen seventy. Pigeon Publishing House presented The
Count of Monte Cristo author Alexander Dumah. Thank you for
listening to this audio book. We hope you enjoyed it.

(02:15:16):
If you enjoyed this classic, follow the show and leave
a quick review and join us Every Tuesday and Thursday
for more timeless stories,

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.css-14f5ked{margin:0;word-break:break-word;display:-webkit-box;-webkit-box-orient:vertical;box-orient:vertical;-webkit-line-clamp:2;overflow:hidden;}The Count of Monte Cristo - Full Audiobook (Alexandre Dumas) | Part 6 of 6 | Top 100 Classics