CADEROUSSE continued to call piteously, "Help, reverend sir, help！"
"What is the matter?" asked Monte Cristo.
"Help," cried Caderousse; "I am murdered！"
"We are here;--take courage."
"Ah, it's all over！ You are come too late--you are come to see me die. What blows, what blood！" He fainted. Ali and his master conveyed the wounded man into a room. Monte Cristo motioned to Ali to undress him, and he then examined his dreadful wounds. "My God！" he exclaimed, "thy vengeance is sometimes delayed, but only that it may fall the more effectually." Ali looked at his master for further instructions. "Bring here immediately the king's attorney, M. de Villefort, who lives in the Faubourg St. Honoré. As you pass the lodge, wake the porter, and send him for a surgeon." Ali obeyed, leaving the abbé alone with Caderousse, who had not yet revived.
When the wretched man again opened his eyes, the count looked at him with a mournful expression of pity, and his lips moved as if in prayer. "A surgeon, reverend sir--a surgeon！" said Caderousse.
"I have sent for one," replied the abbé.
"I know he cannot save my life, but he may strengthen me to give my evidence."
"Against whom?"
"Against my murderer."
"Did you recognize him?"
"Yes; it was Benedetto."
"The young Corsican?"
"Himself."
"Your comrade?"
"Yes. After giving me the plan of this house, doubtless hoping I should kill the count and he thus become his heir, or that the count would kill me and I should be out of his way, he waylaid me, and has murdered me."
"I have also sent for the procureur."
"He will not come in time; I feel my life fast ebbing."
"Wait a moment," said Monte Cristo. He left the room, and returned in five minutes with a phial. The dying man's eyes were all the time riveted on the door, through which he hoped succor would arrive. "Hasten, reverend sir, hasten！ I shall faint again！" Monte Cristo approached, and dropped on his purple lips three or four drops of the contents of the phial. Caderousse drew a deep breath. "Oh," said he, "that is life to me; more, more！"
"Two drops more would kill you," replied the abbé.
"Oh, send for some one to whom I can denounce the wretch！"
"Shall I write your deposition? You can sign it."
"Yes yes," said Caderousse; and his eyes glistened at the thought of this posthumous revenge. Monte Cristo wrote:--
"I die, murdered by the Corsican Benedetto, my comrade in the galleys at Toulouse, No. 59."
"Quick, quick！" said Caderousse, "or I shall be unable to sign it."
Monte Cristo gave the pen to Caderousse, who collected all his strength, signed it, and fell back on his bed, saying: "You will relate all the rest, reverend sir; you will say he calls himself Andrea Cavalcanti. He lodges at the H?tel des Princes. Oh, I am dying！" He again fainted. The abbé made him smell the contents of the phial, and he again opened his eyes. His desire for revenge had not forsaken him.
"Ah, you will tell all I have said, will you not, reverend sir?"
"Yes, and much more."
"What more will you say?"
"I will say he had doubtless given you the plan of this house, in the hope the count would kill you. I will say, likewise, he had apprised the count, by a note, of your intention, and, the count being absent, I read the note and sat up to await you."
"And he will be guillotined, will be not?" said Caderousse. "Promise me that, and I will die with that hope."
"I will say," continued the count, "that he followed and watched you the whole time, and when he saw you leave the house, ran to the angle of the wall to conceal himself."
"Did you see all that?"
"Remember my words: 'If you return home safely, I shall believe God has forgiven you, and I will forgive you also.'"
"And you did not warn me！" cried Caderousse, raising himself on his elbows. "You knew I should be killed on leaving this house, and did not warn me！"
"No; for I saw God's justice placed in the hands of Benedetto, and should have thought it sacrilege to oppose the designs of providence."
"God's justice！ Speak not of it, reverend sir. If God were just, you know how many would be punished who now escape."
"Patience," said the abbé, in a tone which made the dying man shudder; "have patience！" Caderousse looked at him with amazement. "Besides," said the abbé, "God is merciful to all, as he has been to you; he is first a father, then a judge."
"Do you then believe in God?" said Caderousse.
"Had I been so unhappy as not to believe in him until now," said Monte Cristo, "I must believe on seeing you." Caderousse raised his clinched hands towards heaven.
"Listen," said the abbé, extending his hand over the wounded man, as if to command him to believe; "this is what the God in whom, on your death-bed, you refuse to believe, has done for you--he gave you health, strength, regular employment, even friends--a life, in fact, which a man might enjoy with a calm conscience. Instead of improving these gifts, rarely granted so abundantly, this has been your course--you have given yourself up to sloth and drunkenness, and in a fit of intoxication have ruined your best friend."
"Help！" cried Caderousse; "I require a surgeon, not a priest; perhaps I am not mortally wounded--I may not die; perhaps they can yet save my life."
"Your wounds are so far mortal that, without the three drops I gave you, you would now be dead. Listen, then."
"Ah," murmured Caderousse, "what a strange priest you are; you drive the dying to despair, instead of consoling them."
"Listen," continued the abbé. "When you had betrayed your friend God began not to strike, but to warn you. Poverty overtook you. You had already passed half your life in coveting that which you might have honorably acquired; and already you contemplated crime under the excuse of want, when God worked a miracle in your behalf, sending you, by my hands, a fortune--brilliant, indeed, for you, who had never possessed any. But this unexpected, unhoped-for, unheard-of fortune sufficed you no longer when you once possessed it; you wished to double it, and how?--by a murder！ You succeeded, and then God snatched it from you, and brought you to justice."
"It was not I who wished to kill the Jew," said Caderousse; "it was La Carconte."
"Yes," said Monte Cristo, "and God,--I cannot say in justice, for his justice would have slain you,--but God, in his mercy, spared your life."
"Pardieu！ to transport me for life, how merciful！"
"You thought it a mercy then, miserable wretch！ The coward who feared death rejoiced at perpetual disgrace; for like all galley-slaves, you said, 'I may escape from prison, I cannot from the grave.' And you said truly; the way was opened for you unexpectedly. An Englishman visited Toulon, who had vowed to rescue two men from infamy, and his choice fell on you and your companion. You received a second fortune, money and tranquillity were restored to you, and you, who had been condemned to a felon's life, might live as other men. Then, wretched creature, then you tempted God a third time. 'I have not enough,' you said, when you had more than you before possessed, and you committed a third crime, without reason, without excuse. God is wearied; he has punished you." Caderousse was fast sinking. "Give me drink," said he: "I thirst--I burn！" Monte Cristo gave him a glass of water. "And yet that villain, Benedetto, will escape！"
"No one, I tell you, will escape; Benedetto will be punished."
"Then, you, too, will be punished, for you did not do your duty as a priest--you should have prevented Benedetto from killing me."
"I?" said the count, with a smile which petrified the dying man, "when you had just broken your knife against the coat of mail which protected my breast！ Yet perhaps if I had found you humble and penitent, I might have prevented Benedetto from killing you; but I found you proud and blood-thirsty, and I left you in the hands of God."
"I do not believe there is a God," howled Caderousse; "you do not believe it; you lie--you lie！"
"Silence," said the abbé; "you will force the last drop of blood from your veins. What！ you do not believe in God when he is striking you dead? you will not believe in him, who requires but a prayer, a word, a tear, and he will forgive? God, who might have directed the assassin's dagger so as to end your career in a moment, has given you this quarter of an hour for repentance. Reflect, then, wretched man, and repent."
"No," said Caderousse, "no; I will not repent. There is no God; there is no providence--all comes by chance."--
"There is a providence; there is a God," said Monte Cristo, "of whom you are a striking proof, as you lie in utter despair, denying him, while I stand before you, rich, happy, safe and entreating that God in whom you endeavor not to believe, while in your heart you still believe in him."
"But who are you, then?" asked Caderousse, fixing his dying eyes on the count. "Look well at me！" said Monte Cristo, putting the light near his face. "Well, the abbé--the Abbé Busoni." Monte Cristo took off the wig which disfigured him, and let fall his black hair, which added so much to the beauty of his pallid features. "Oh?" said Caderousse, thunderstruck, "but for that black hair, I should say you were the Englishman, Lord Wilmore."
"I am neither the Abbé Busoni nor Lord Wilmore," said Monte Cristo; "think again,--do you not recollect me?" Those was a magic effect in the count's words, which once more revived the exhausted powers of the miserable man. "Yes, indeed," said he; "I think I have seen you and known you formerly."
"Yes, Caderousse, you have seen me; you knew me once."
"Who, then, are you? and why, if you knew me, do you let me die?"
"Because nothing can save you; your wounds are mortal. Had it been possible to save you, I should have considered it another proof of God's mercy, and I would again have endeavored to restore you, I swear by my father's tomb."
"By your father's tomb！" said Caderousse, supported by a supernatural power, and half-raising himself to see more distinctly the man who had just taken the oath which all men hold sacred; "who, then, are you?" The count had watched the approach of death. He knew this was the last struggle. He approached the dying man, and, leaning over him with a calm and melancholy look, he whispered, "I am--I am"--And his almost closed lips uttered a name so low that the count himself appeared afraid to hear it. Caderousse, who had raised himself on his knees, and stretched out his arm, tried to draw back, then clasping his hands, and raising them with a desperate effort, "O my God, my God！" said he, "pardon me for having denied thee; thou dost exist, thou art indeed man's father in heaven, and his judge on earth. My God, my Lord, I have long despised thee！ Pardon me, my God; receive me, O my Lord！" Caderousse sighed deeply, and fell back with a groan. The blood no longer flowed from his wounds. He was dead.
"One！" said the count mysteriously, his eyes fixed on the corpse, disfigured by so awful a death. Ten minutes afterwards the surgeon and the procureur arrived, the one accompanied by the porter, the other by Ali, and were received by the Abbé Busoni, who was praying by the side of the corpse.
卡德鲁斯继续悲惨地喊道：“神甫阁下，救命呀！救命呀！”
“怎么一回事呀？”基督山问道。
“救命呀！”卡德鲁斯喊道，“我被人害死啦！”
“我们在这儿，勇敢一点！”
“呀，完啦！你们来得太迟喽，你们是来给我送终罢了。刺得多厉害呀！好多血呀！”他昏了过去。
阿里和他的主人把那个受伤的人找到一个房间里，基督山示意阿里给他脱衣服，他发现三处可怕的伤口。“我的上帝！”他叹道，“您的报应多少是来得迟了一点了，但那只是为了可以报应得更有力。”阿里望着他的主人，等待新的指示。
“立刻领检察官维尔福先生到这儿来，他住在圣·奥诺路。你出去的时候，顺便叫醒门房，派他去请一位医生来。”阿里遵命而去，房间里只剩下了神甫和卡德鲁斯，后者还没有醒过来。
当那恶人又张开了他的眼睛的时候，伯爵正带着一种怜悯的表情望着他，他的嘴巴在微动，象是在做祷告。“医生哟，神甫阁下，找一个医生来哟！”卡德鲁斯说。
“我已经派人去请了。”神甫回答。
“我知道他不能救我的命，但他或许可以使我多活一会儿，让我有时间告发他。”
“告发谁？”
“告发杀我的凶手。”
“你认不认识他？”
“认识，他是贝尼代托。”
“那个年青的科西嘉人？”
“就是他。”
“你的同伙？”
“是的。他给我这座房子的图样，无疑是希望我杀死伯爵，以便让他继承他的财产，或者伯爵杀死我，免得我阻碍他。他埋伏在墙角里，暗杀我。”
“我也已经派人去请检察官了。”
“他来不及赶到的了，我觉得我的生命已在很快地衰退下去了。”
“等一等！”基督山说。他离开房间，不到五分钟，拿着一只小药瓶回来。
那个垂死的人的眼睛不断地盯住那扇门，他希望救兵会从那扇门里进来。“赶快，神甫阁下！赶快！我又要昏啦！”
基督山走过去，把小瓶里的药水滴了三四滴到他那发紫的嘴唇上。卡德鲁斯深深地吸了一口气。“噢！”他说，“真是救命良药，多一点，多一点！”
“再多两滴就会杀死你了。”神甫回答。
“噢，只要来一个人，让我向他告发那个恶棍就好了！”
“要不要我给你写口供？你只要签一个字就行了。”
“好的，好的。”卡德鲁斯说。想到死后能够复仇，他的眼睛顿时焕发起来。基督山写道：我是被科西嘉人贝尼代托害死的，他是土伦苦工船上五十九号囚犯，是我一条锁链上的同伴。”
“快！快！”卡德鲁斯说：“不然我就不能签字了。”
基督山把笔递给卡德鲁斯，卡德鲁斯集中他的全部精力签了字，倒回到床上，说：“其余的由你口述吧，神甫阁下，你可以说，他自称为安德烈·卡瓦尔康蒂。他住在太子旅馆里。噢，我要死啦！”他又昏了过去。神甫使他嗅小瓶里的药水，于是他又张开眼睛。复仇的希望并没有舍弃他。
“啊，你会把我所说的一切都讲出来的吧，你肯不肯，神甫阁下？”
“是的，而且还要讲得更多。”
“你还要讲些什么？”
“我要说，这座房子的图样无疑是他给你的，希望伯爵杀死你。我还要说，他写了一封信给伯爵，把你的企图通知他，伯爵不在，我读了那封信，于是坐在这儿等候你。”
“他会杀头的吧，会不会？”卡德鲁斯说。“答应我那一点吧，让我抱着那个希望死——那可以使我容易死些。”
“我要说，”伯爵继续说，“他始终跟踪着你，监视着你，当他看到你从房子里出去的时候，就奔到墙角里去躲起来。”
“那一切你都看到的吗？”
“想一想我的话：‘假如你平平安安地回到了家里，我就相信上帝已宽恕了你，而我也可以宽恕你了。’”
“而你却不警告我一声！”卡德鲁斯用手肘撑起身体喊道。
“你知道我一离开这座房子就要被人杀死，而你却不警告我！”
“不，因为我看上帝是假手贝尼代托在执行他的法律，我觉得违反天意是亵渎神圣的。”
“上帝的法律！别提了吧，神甫阁下。假如上帝是公正的，你知道有许多该受惩罚的人现在却依旧逍遥法外。”
“耐心一点吧！”神甫说，他说这句话的口吻使那个垂死的人打了一个寒颤。“耐心一点！”
卡德鲁斯惊愕地望着他。
“而且，”神甫说，“上帝是慈悲普赐的，他也曾对你慈悲过，他最初是一位慈父，后来才变成一位法官。”
“那么你相信上帝罗？”
“即使我命穷福薄，截至目前为止还不相信他，”基督山说，“但看到你这种情形，我也必须相信了。”
卡德鲁斯举起他那紧捏的双拳，伸向天空。
“听着，”神甫一面说，一面伸出一只手虚悬在伤者的头上，象是要命令他相信似的。“你在你的灵床上还拒绝相信上帝，而上帝却曾为你做过许多事情：他给你康健、精力、正当的职业、甚至朋友——这种生活，凡是良心平稳、不作非分之想的人，的确是可以很满足的了。他很少赏赐这么多的恩惠给人，而你非但不想好好利用这些天恩，却反而自甘怠惰酗酒，在一次酩酊大醉中断送了你一个最好的朋友。”
“救命呀！”卡德鲁斯喊道，“我要的是一位医生，不是一个教士。或许我所受的不是致命伤，或许我还不会死，或许他们还能救我的命。”
“你的伤是太致命了，要不是我给你滴了三滴药水，你现在早就死了。所以，听着吧。”
“啊！”卡德鲁斯低声地说，“你这个神甫多古怪！你非但不安慰垂死的人，反而要逼他们绝望。”
“听着，”神甫继续说道。“当你出卖你的朋友的时候，上帝并不立刻惩罚你，而只给你一个警告。你被贫穷所迫，你半辈子贪望富贵，却不以正当的手段去寻求。你以借口生活所迫想去犯罪。那时，上帝为你创造了一个奇迹，借我的手送给了你一笔财产。对你来说，那已是非常可观的了，因为你从未有过什么财产。但当你获得了那笔意想不到的，闻所未闻的意外之财的时候，你又觉得不够了。你想要再增加一倍，用什么办法呢？杀人！你成功了。那时，上帝夺掉了你的财产，把你带到了法庭上。”
“起念杀那个犹太人的不是我，”卡德鲁斯说，“是卡康脱女人。”
“是的，”基督山说，“所以上帝——我不能说他执法公正无私，因为按理他应该把你处死，——但上帝慈悲为怀，饶了你的性命。”
“哼！把我送到苦工船上去终身做苦工，多慈悲呀！”
“你当时却以为那是慈悲的呀，你这该死的混蛋！你那懦怯的心一望到死就发抖，听到宣判终身监禁，就高兴得狂跳起来。因为象苦工船上所有的奴隶一样，你说：‘那扇门是通到苦工船上去的，不是诵到坟墓里去的。’你说对了，因为那扇通到苦工船上去的门对你实在有利。一个英国人碰巧去访问土伦，他发誓要拯救两个受罪的人，而他选择了你和你的同伴。你又得到了一笔财产——金钱和安宁又回到了你的身边。你，你本来命中注定了要终生过囚徒生活的。又可以过常人那种生活了。那时，贱人呀！——那时你又第三次去触怒了上帝。你那时的财产甚至比以前更多了，而你却说：‘我还不够。’你又第三次毫无理由，丝毫不能原谅地又犯了罪。这次上帝厌倦了，他惩罚了你。”
卡德鲁斯的呼吸渐渐地微弱了。“给我喝点儿水！”他说道，“我口渴极了，我浑身象火烧一样！”基督山给了他一杯水。“可是贝尼代托那个混蛋，”卡德鲁斯交回了玻璃杯，说道，“他却可以逃脱了！”
“我告诉你吧，谁都逃不了。贝尼代托也要受惩罚的。”
“那么你也得受惩罚，因为你没有尽到你当教士的责任，你应该阻止贝尼代托，不让他来杀我。”
“我？”伯爵微笑着说道，他那种微笑把那个垂死的人吓呆了——“你的刀尖刚才不是才折断在保护我胸膛的钢丝背心上吗！可是，假如我发觉你低首下心，自知悔悟，我或许会阻止贝尼代托，不让你被杀。但我发觉你依旧傲慢凶悍，所以我就让你落在上帝的手里。”
“我不相信有上帝，”卡德鲁斯咆哮道，“你自己也不相信。你撒谎！你撒谎！”
“住口！”神甫说道，“你要把你血管里的最后一滴血都挤出来了。什么！现在处死你的正是上帝，而你竟然还不相信他的存在，是吗？他要你作一次祷告，说一句话，掉一滴眼泪，这样上帝就可以宽恕你，难道你还不肯相信他吗？上帝本来可以使凶手的匕首在一霎时内就了结你的生命的，但他却给了你这一刻钟的时间，让你有时间可以忏悔。所以，想一想吧，贱人，忏悔吧。”
“不，”卡德鲁斯说，“不，我不忏悔。天地间根本没有上帝，没有神，有的只是命运。”
“天地间有一位神，有上帝，”基督山说。“其证据就是：你躺在这儿，绝望地否认着他，而我却站在你面前，富有，快乐，安全，并恳求上帝宽恕你，因为你虽竭力想不相信他，但你在心里却依旧是相信他的。”
“那么，你是谁呢？”卡德鲁斯用他垂死的眼睛盯住伯爵问道。
“仔细看看我！”基督山说道，把灯光移近了他的脸。
“嗯，神甫，布沙尼神甫。”
伯爵脱掉了那改变他相貌的假发，垂下了他那漆黑的头发，使他那苍白的脸顿时英俊了许多。
“噢！”卡德鲁斯大吃了一惊，说道，“要不是那一头黑发，我就要说你就是那个英国人威玛勋爵啦。”
“我既不是布沙尼神甫，也不是威玛勋爵，”基督山说。
“再想想看，想得更远一些，在你早年的记忆里搜索一下。”伯爵的话里有一股魔力，使那可怜虫的极衰弱的神志又再度恢复了过来。
“不错，”他说，我想我从前见过你，也认识你。”
“对，卡德鲁斯，你见过我，我们曾经相识。”
“那么你是谁呢？你既然认识我，怎么还能让我去死呢？”
“因为已没有办法再救你了。你受的是致命伤。假如还有可能救你的命，我就会认为这是上帝对你另一次发慈悲，我也一定努力救你。我以我父亲的坟墓起誓！”
“以你父亲的坟墓起誓！”卡德鲁斯说道，这时正是回光返照，他半撑起身子，想更清楚地看看那个发誓的人，因为他所发的誓言是所有人都认为神圣不可亵渎的。“你到底是谁？”
伯爵已注意到对方离死已很近了。他知道这是最后的回光返照，就走近了那个垂死的人，脸上露出了镇静而忧郁的神色，弯下腰去轻声说道：“我是——我是——”他那几乎是闭着的嘴里轻轻地吐出一个名字，声音是那么低，仿佛连伯爵自己也怕听见似的。卡德鲁斯本来已撑起了身子跪着，伸出了一只胳膊，听到那名字又把身子缩了回来。他攥紧了拳头，用尽全身的力气把两手伸向天空，喊道：“哦，上帝！我的上帝！原谅我刚才否认了您！您的确是存在的。您确实是人类的在天之父，也是人间的审判官。我的上帝。接受我吧，我的主啊！”他紧闭双眼，发出了最后一声呻吟和最后一个叹息，就倒了下去。此时伤口已不再流血了，他已经死了。
“一个！”伯爵神秘地说话，两眼盯着那尸体，这具尸体由于死得很惨，所以其形状特别可怕。十分钟后，医生和检察官都来了。一个由门房领着，另一个由阿里陪同着。接待他们的是布沙尼神甫，当时他正在尸体旁边做祷告呢。