Chapter 6
Weeks followed by months went by. One day as Edmond and Faria rested from the hard work of tunnelling, Edmond said, “Father, I have been thinking about my enemies. Your lessons on history have taught me how the minds of some men work in evil ways. I believe I was accused by two men—Danglars and Fernand. Danglars saw me carry the letter away from Elba, and he had hoped to be captain of the Pharaon until I was chosen. Fernand hated me because Mercedes had consented to be my wife and not his. I could confirm these suspicions if I could talk to our old neighbour, Caderousse. I saw him after my return, sitting and drinking with Danglars and Fernand. They may have been talking about me, for as I passed the inn, they stopped talking and pretended not to notice me.”
“Very good thinking,” said Faria with a smile. “When you told me everything about yourself, I, too, suspected Danglars and Fernand. But I wanted you to puzzle it out.”
Edmond went on, “There is one part of the puzzle I have not figured out. Why did Monsieur Villefort shut me up here for ever when he appeared to believe my story and agreed I was innocent?”
Faria nodded thoughtfully. “True. There is also something curious about his burning the letter from Elba. Why should the Assistant Prosecutor for the King destroy evidence as a favour to a sailor he had never met before?”
“He must have feared me for some reason,”answered Edmond, “But that is ridiculous. How could I harm such an important man?”
Faria was silent for a moment. “You knew only one secret—the name of the traitor to whom the letter was addressed,” he added.
“Yes, Father, but the name was that of a stranger, Noirtier.”
At this, Father Faria groaned and lifted his arms to Heaven. “There it is!” he cried, “There is the reason. I know this traitor Noirtier. He is the father of Villefort who is so ashamed of the old man that he uses his mother’s family name.”
At this revelation of the reason for Villefort’s betrayal of him, Edmond became very pale. He leaned towards Faria and said urgently, “I must have revenge. I must destroy these three men who have taken away my youth and given me fourteen years of suffering in return. Let us double our working time on the tunnel.”
From then on, the work on the tunnel went rapidly. When they reached the last stone, which would give them access to the corridor, they scraped only a certain amount of plaster. They would remove the rest on the night of the escape. Until then, the stone had to remain fixed in its usual place.
As they rejoiced at coming to the end of the tunnelling, Faria staggered. Edmond dragged the half-fainting priest back to his cell and put him on his cot. Faria seemed not to be breathing. Hearing the jailor’s approach, Edmond lowered himself back into the tunnel, and, just before pulling the entrance stone into place, he called loudly, “Help! I am ill.”
For the next few days, Edmond dared not use the tunnel. He was torn with anxiety about Father Faria. Was he alive or dead? Edmond kept his ear to the door of his dungeon as much as possible. Finally, he was rewarded by overhearing two jailors as they talked.
“I like him, though he is mad,” said one.
“Yes, it is too bad to see him paralyzed like that,” said the other.
Edmond’s heart sank when he heard this news, but then it lifted, because Faria was still alive.
A month went by before Edmond heard the old scraping behind his wall. Quickly, he moved the entrance stone and admitted the priest into his dungeon. They wept and embraced each other. Then, Edmond wept some more when he saw that Faria’s right arm and leg were paralyzed.
But Faria calmed him. The old man had dragged himself with the greatest of difficulty to Edmond for one reason—to urge Edmond to escape alone that very night.
Edmond drew himself up, his eyes flashing. “My only friend, I swear never to leave you. While I waited for this reunion, I made a plan.”
“We will fashion some kind of raft from our blankets and fish bones. We will escape as planned, and I will tow you through the water on the raft.”
Faria’s eyes filled with tears again. “You are my true son. But I will be too great a burden. Go now, alone,” said he.
Edmond was firm in his refusal. He helped Faria back to his cell and promised to come later that night to begin the raft.
When Edmond appeared, Faria was studying a drawing on a piece of cloth. The priest beckoned to Edmond and put his hand on the young man’s head, as if in a blessing. Very solemnly, he announced, “Edmond Dantes, sailor of Marseilles and my adopted son, I declare you my heir. At my death, all the riches that I inherited from Cardinal Spada will belong to you. I do this in gratitude for your love and loyalty.”
He then explained the drawing, which was a treasure map. It showed one cave among many, and in that cave, one stone among many. When pushed aside, the stone would reveal a corridor. Four feet farther on, a concealed spring would open an entranceway into the room where the Spada treasure lay. When the priest was sure that Edmond had memorized the map, he burned it to ashes.
Edmond had listened obediently but with fear in his heart. Surely, this was the talk of a madman. When Faria told him the amount of money that the jewels, gold bars, and silver household objects would bring, Edmond was certain the jailor had been right.
“Seventy million Francs?” he repeated, “It cannot be. Father, you must rest.”
Faria knew what Edmond was thinking and waved his hand impatiently, “My son, I am not mad. I know I will never leave the Chateau d’If alive. So, let me finish the information. The cave is located on the Island of Monte Cristo.”
“Do you know it?”
“Yes,” said Edmond, “The Pharaon passed it often. It is small and uninhabited.”
Faria nodded and asked Edmond to help him to his cot. As he lay down, his pale face twisted with pain. With his last breath he gasped, “Farewell, my son. Do not forget Monte Cristo.”
Edmond stood frozen at his friend’s bedside until dawn when the sounds of stirring by the jailors sent him flying back into the passageway. There, he heard the jailor order Faria’s body to be sewn inside a shroud and buried that very evening.
Once back in his own cell, Edmond gave way to his grief. Alone! He was alone once more! So, for the second time in his life, Edmond Dantes resolved to die rather than continue to live in misery.
Having been forced to leave Faria’s cell so rapidly, Edmond had not had time to say a proper farewell to his dear friend. The soldiers had left, and he determined to see the beloved face once more by chancing one more trip through the passageway. It did not matter if he was caught. His life was over too. So, Edmond returned to Faria’s cell.
“If only I could die too!” he cried upon seeing the priest completely encased in a thick woollen shroud. “Then I would leave this dungeon just as you are about to do, my dear friend.”
As he uttered these words, Edmond was struck by a sudden and terrifying idea. “My God!” he murmured, “I must not die now. I must punish my executioners first. Since it is only the dead who go free from here, I must take the place of the dead! I must take the place of the dead!”
