Chapter 83

CHAPTER 83
The Hand of God.

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. Honore. As
you pass the lodge, wake the porter, and send him for a
surgeon." Ali obeyed, leaving the abbe 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 abbe.

"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 abbe.

"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