The Count of Monte Cristo

Chapter 18. The Treasure-2

die.’ but it was a legate à latere, who came with a smile on his lips to

say from the pope, ‘His holiness requests you to dine with him.’

“Spada set out about two o’clock to San Pierdarena. The pope awaited

him. The first sight that attracted the eyes of Spada was that of his

nephew, in full costume, and Cæsar Borgia paying him most marked

attentions. Spada turned pale, as Cæsar looked at him with an ironical

air, which proved that he had anticipated all, and that the snare was

well spread.

“They began dinner and Spada was only able to inquire of his nephew if

he had received his message. The nephew replied no; perfectly

comprehending the meaning of the question. It was too late, for he had

already drunk a glass of excellent wine, placed for him expressly by the

pope’s butler. Spada at the same moment saw another bottle approach him,

which he was pressed to taste. An hour afterwards a physician declared

they were both poisoned through eating mushrooms. Spada died on the

threshold of the vineyard; the nephew expired at his own door, making

signs which his wife could not comprehend.

“Then Cæsar and the pope hastened to lay hands on the heritage, under

pretense of seeking for the papers of the dead man. But the inheritance

consisted in this only, a scrap of paper on which Spada had written:—‘I

bequeath to my beloved nephew my coffers, my books, and, amongst others,

my breviary with the gold corners, which I beg he will preserve in

remembrance of his affectionate uncle.’

“The heirs sought everywhere, admired the breviary, laid hands on the

furniture, and were greatly astonished that Spada, the rich man, was

really the most miserable of uncles—no treasures—unless they were those

of science, contained in the library and laboratories. That was all.

Cæsar and his father searched, examined, scrutinized, but found nothing,

or at least very little; not exceeding a few thousand crowns in plate,

and about the same in ready money; but the nephew had time to say to his

wife before he expired: ‘Look well among my uncle’s papers; there is a

will.’

“They sought even more thoroughly than the august heirs had done, but it

was fruitless. There were two palaces and a vineyard behind the Palatine

Hill; but in these days landed property had not much value, and the two

palaces and the vineyard remained to the family since they were beneath

the rapacity of the pope and his son. Months and years rolled on.

Alexander VI. died, poisoned,—you know by what mistake. Cæsar, poisoned

at the same time, escaped by shedding his skin like a snake; but the new

skin was spotted by the poison till it looked like a tiger’s. Then,

compelled to quit Rome, he went and got himself obscurely killed in a

night skirmish, scarcely noticed in history.

“After the pope’s death and his son’s exile, it was supposed that the

Spada family would resume the splendid position they had held before the

cardinal’s time; but this was not the case. The Spadas remained in

doubtful ease, a mystery hung over this dark affair, and the public

rumor was, that Cæsar, a better politician than his father, had carried

off from the pope the fortune of the two cardinals. I say the two,

because Cardinal Rospigliosi, who had not taken any precaution, was

completely despoiled.

“Up to this point,” said Faria, interrupting the thread of his

narrative, “this seems to you very meaningless, no doubt, eh?”

“Oh, my friend,” cried Dantès, “on the contrary, it seems as if I were

reading a most interesting narrative; go on, I beg of you.”

“I will. The family began to get accustomed to their obscurity. Years

rolled on, and amongst the descendants some were soldiers, others

diplomatists; some churchmen, some bankers; some grew rich, and some

were ruined. I come now to the last of the family, whose secretary I

was—the Count of Spada. I had often heard him complain of the

disproportion of his rank with his fortune; and I advised him to invest

all he had in an annuity. He did so, and thus doubled his income. The

celebrated breviary remained in the family, and was in the count’s

possession. It had been handed down from father to son; for the singular

clause of the only will that had been found, had caused it to be

regarded as a genuine relic, preserved in the family with superstitious

veneration. It was an illuminated book, with beautiful Gothic

characters, and so weighty with gold, that a servant always carried it

before the cardinal on days of great solemnity.

“At the sight of papers of all sorts,—titles, contracts, parchments,

which were kept in the archives of the family, all descending from the

poisoned cardinal, I in my turn examined the immense bundles of

documents, like twenty servitors, stewards, secretaries before me; but

in spite of the most exhaustive researches, I found—nothing. Yet I had

read, I had even written a precise history of the Borgia family, for the

sole purpose of assuring myself whether any increase of fortune had

occurred to them on the death of the Cardinal Cæsar Spada; but could

only trace the acquisition of the property of the Cardinal Rospigliosi,

his companion in misfortune.

“I was then almost assured that the inheritance had neither profited the

Borgias nor the family, but had remained unpossessed like the treasures

of the Arabian Nights, which slept in the bosom of the earth under the

eyes of the genie. I searched, ransacked, counted, calculated a thousand

and a thousand times the income and expenditure of the family for three

hundred years. It was useless. I remained in my ignorance, and the Count

of Spada in his poverty.

“My patron died. He had reserved from his annuity his family papers, his

library, composed of five thousand volumes, and his famous breviary. All

these he bequeathed to me, with a thousand Roman crowns, which he had in

ready money, on condition that I would have anniversary masses said for

the repose of his soul, and that I would draw up a genealogical tree and

history of his house. All this I did scrupulously. Be easy, my dear

Edmond, we are near the conclusion.

“In 1807, a month before I was arrested, and a fortnight after the death

of the Count of Spada, on the 25th of December (you will see presently

how the date became fixed in my memory), I was reading, for the

thousandth time, the papers I was arranging, for the palace was sold to

a stranger, and I was going to leave Rome and settle at Florence,

intending to take with me twelve thousand francs I possessed, my

library, and the famous breviary, when, tired with my constant labor at

the same thing, and overcome by a heavy dinner I had eaten, my head

dropped on my hands, and I fell asleep about three o’clock in the

afternoon.

“I awoke as the clock was striking six. I raised my head; I was in utter

darkness. I rang for a light, but, as no one came, I determined to find

one for myself. It was indeed but anticipating the simple manners which

I should soon be under the necessity of adopting. I took a wax-candle in

one hand, and with the other groped about for a piece of paper (my

match-box being empty), with which I proposed to get a light from the

small flame still playing on the embers. Fearing, however, to make use

of any valuable piece of paper, I hesitated for a moment, then

recollected that I had seen in the famous breviary, which was on the

table beside me, an old paper quite yellow with age, and which had

served as a marker for centuries, kept there by the request of the

heirs. I felt for it, found it, twisted it up together, and putting it

into the expiring flame, set light to it.

“But beneath my fingers, as if by magic, in proportion as the fire

ascended, I saw yellowish characters appear on the paper. I grasped it

in my hand, put out the flame as quickly as I could, lighted my taper in

the fire itself, and opened the crumpled paper with inexpressible

emotion, recognizing, when I had done so, that these characters had been

traced in mysterious and sympathetic ink, only appearing when exposed to

the fire; nearly one-third of the paper had been consumed by the flame.

It was that paper you read this morning; read it again, Dantès, and then

I will complete for you the incomplete words and unconnected sense.”

Faria, with an air of triumph, offered the paper to Dantès, who this

time read the following words, traced with an ink of a reddish color

resembling rust:

“This 25th day of April, 1498, be... Alexander VI., and fearing that

not... he may desire to become my heir, and re... and Bentivoglio, who

were poisoned,... my sole heir, that I have bu... and has visited with

me, that is, in... Island of Monte Cristo, all I poss... jewels,

diamonds, gems; that I alone... may amount to nearly two mil... will

find on raising the twentieth ro... creek to the east in a right line.

Two open... in these caves; the treasure is in the furthest a... which

treasure I bequeath and leave en... as my sole heir. “25th April, 1498.

“Cæs... “And now,” said the abbé, “read this other paper;” and he

presented to Dantès a second leaf with fragments of lines written on it,

which Edmond read as follows:

“...ing invited to dine by his Holiness ...content with making me pay

for my hat, ...serves for me the fate of Cardinals Caprara ...I declare

to my nephew, Guido Spada ...ried in a place he knows ...the caves of

the small ...essed of ingots, gold, money, ...know of the existence of

this treasure, which ...lions of Roman crowns, and which he ...ck from

the small ...ings have been made ...ngle in the second; ...tire to him

...ar † Spada.”

Faria followed him with an excited look.

“And now,” he said, when he saw that Dantès had read the last line, “put

the two fragments together, and judge for yourself.” Dantès obeyed, and

the conjointed pieces gave the following:

“This 25th day of April, 1498, be...ing invited to dine by his Holiness

Alexander VI., and fearing that not...content with making me pay for my

hat, he may desire to become my heir, and re...serves for me the fate of

Cardinals Caprara and Bentivoglio, who were poisoned,...I declare to my

nephew, Guido Spada, my sole heir, that I have bu...ried in a place he

knows and has visited with me, that is, in...the caves of the small

Island of Monte Cristo, all I poss...essed of ingots, gold, money,

jewels, diamonds, gems; that I alone...know of the existence of this

treasure, which may amount to nearly two mil...lions of Roman crowns,

and which he will find on raising the twentieth ro...ck from the small

creek to the east in a right line. Two open...ings have been made in

these caves; the treasure is in the furthest a...ngle in the second;

which treasure I bequeath and leave en...tire to him as my sole heir.

“25th April, 1498. “Cæs...ar † Spada.”

“Well, do you comprehend now?” inquired Faria.

“It is the declaration of Cardinal Spada, and the will so long sought

for,” replied Edmond, still incredulous.

“Yes; a thousand times, yes!”

“And who completed it as it now is?”

“I did. Aided by the remaining fragment, I guessed the rest; measuring

the length of the lines by those of the paper, and divining the hidden

meaning by means of what was in part revealed, as we are guided in a

cavern by the small ray of light above us.”

“And what did you do when you arrived at this conclusion?”

“I resolved to set out, and did set out at that very instant, carrying

with me the beginning of my great work, the unity of the Italian

kingdom; but for some time the imperial police (who at this period,

quite contrary to what Napoleon desired so soon as he had a son born to

him, wished for a partition of provinces) had their eyes on me; and my

hasty departure, the cause of which they were unable to guess, having

aroused their suspicions, I was arrested at the very moment I was

leaving Piombino.

“Now,” continued Faria, addressing Dantès with an almost paternal

expression, “now, my dear fellow, you know as much as I do myself. If we

ever escape together, half this treasure is yours; if I die here, and

you escape alone, the whole belongs to you.”

“But,” inquired Dantès hesitating, “has this treasure no more legitimate

possessor in the world than ourselves?”

“No, no, be easy on that score; the family is extinct. The last Count of

Spada, moreover, made me his heir, bequeathing to me this symbolic

breviary, he bequeathed to me all it contained; no, no, make your mind

satisfied on that point. If we lay hands on this fortune, we may enjoy

it without remorse.”

“And you say this treasure amounts to——”

“Two millions of Roman crowns; nearly thirteen millions of our money.”2

“Impossible!” said Dantès, staggered at the enormous amount.

“Impossible? and why?” asked the old man. “The Spada family was one of

the oldest and most powerful families of the fifteenth century; and in

those times, when other opportunities for investment were wanting, such

accumulations of gold and jewels were by no means rare; there are at

this day Roman families perishing of hunger, though possessed of nearly

a million in diamonds and jewels, handed down by entail, and which they

cannot touch.”

Edmond thought he was in a dream—he wavered between incredulity and joy.

“I have only kept this secret so long from you,” continued Faria, “that

I might test your character, and then surprise you. Had we escaped

before my attack of catalepsy, I should have conducted you to Monte

Cristo; now,” he added, with a sigh, “it is you who will conduct me

thither. Well, Dantès, you do not thank me?”

“This treasure belongs to you, my dear friend,” replied Dantès, “and to

you only. I have no right to it. I am no relation of yours.”

“You are my son, Dantès,” exclaimed the old man. “You are the child of

my captivity. My profession condemns me to celibacy. God has sent you to

me to console, at one and the same time, the man who could not be a

father, and the prisoner who could not get free.”

And Faria extended the arm of which alone the use remained to him to the

young man, who threw himself upon his neck and wept.