Chapter 24 - Page 2

of it had buried
his treasure. It was this idea that had brought Dantes back
to the circular rock. One thing only perplexed Edmond, and
destroyed his theory. How could this rock, which weighed
several tons, have been lifted to this spot, without the aid
of many men? Suddenly an idea flashed across his mind.
Instead of raising it, thought he, they have lowered it. And
he sprang from the rock in order to inspect the base on
which it had formerly stood. He soon perceived that a slope
had been formed, and the rock had slid along this until it
stopped at the spot it now occupied. A large stone had
served as a wedge; flints and pebbles had been inserted
around it, so as to conceal the orifice; this species of
masonry had been covered with earth, and grass and weeds had
grown there, moss had clung to the stones, myrtle-bushes had
taken root, and the old rock seemed fixed to the earth.

Dantes dug away the earth carefully, and detected, or
fancied he detected, the ingenious artifice. He attacked
this wall, cemented by the hand of time, with his pickaxe.
After ten minutes' labor the wall gave way, and a hole large
enough to insert the arm was opened. Dantes went and cut the
strongest olive-tree he could find, stripped off its
branches, inserted it in the hole, and used it as a lever.
But the rock was too heavy, and too firmly wedged, to be
moved by any one man, were he Hercules himself. Dantes saw
that he must attack the wedge. But how? He cast his eyes
around, and saw the horn full of powder which his friend
Jacopo had left him. He smiled; the infernal invention would
serve him for this purpose. With the aid of his pickaxe,
Dantes, after the manner of a labor-saving pioneer, dug a
mine between the upper rock and the one that supported it,
filled it with powder, then made a match by rolling his
handkerchief in saltpetre. He lighted it and retired. The
explosion soon followed; the upper rock was lifted from its
base by the terrific force of the powder; the lower one flew
into pieces; thousands of insects escaped from the aperture
Dantes had previously formed, and a huge snake, like the
guardian demon of the treasure, rolled himself along in
darkening coils, and disappeared.

Dantes approached the upper rock, which now, without any
support, leaned towards the sea. The intrepid
treasure-seeker walked round it, and, selecting the spot
from whence it appeared most susceptible to attack, placed
his lever in one of the crevices, and strained every nerve
to move the mass. The rock, already shaken by the explosion,
tottered on its base. Dantes redoubled his efforts; he
seemed like one of the ancient Titans, who uprooted the
mountains to hurl against the father of the gods. The