"Well, he wasn’t completely abandoned," Caderousse continued. "Mercédès and Mr. Morrel were very kind to him. But somehow the poor old man had developed a deep hatred for Fernand, the very person," Caderousse added with a bitter smile, "that you just named as one of Dantès’ faithful and devoted friends."
"And wasn’t he?" the priest asked.
"Gaspard, Gaspard!" the woman murmured from her seat on the stairs. "Watch what you’re saying!"
Caderousse didn’t reply to these words, though he was obviously irritated by the interruption. Instead, he addressed the priest, "Can a man be faithful to another when he covets and desires that man’s wife? But Dantès was so honorable and trusting by nature that he believed everyone’s claims of friendship. Poor Edmond was cruelly deceived, but it was fortunate he never knew, or he might have found it harder on his deathbed to forgive his enemies. And whatever people may say," Caderousse continued in his native dialect, "I’m more frightened of a dead man’s curse than a living man’s hatred."
"Idiot!" Carconte exclaimed.
"Do you know, then, how Fernand wronged Dantès?" the priest asked Caderousse.
"Do I? No one knows better."
"Then speak! Tell me what happened!"
"Gaspard!" Carconte cried. "Do as you wish, you’re the master. But if you take my advice, you’ll keep your mouth shut."
"Well, wife," Caderousse replied, "I don’t know but what you’re right."
"So you won’t say anything?" the priest asked.
"What good would it do?" Caderousse asked. "If the poor boy were alive and came to me begging me to tell him honestly which were his true friends and which were false, then perhaps I wouldn’t hesitate. But you tell me he’s dead, so he has nothing more to do with hatred or revenge. Let all such feelings be buried with him."
"You prefer, then," the priest said, "that I should give the reward meant for faithful friendship to men you say are false and treacherous?"
"That’s true enough," Caderousse returned. "You’re right, poor Edmond’s gift wasn’t meant for traitors like Fernand and Danglars. Besides, what would it mean to them? No more than a drop of water in the ocean."
"Remember," Carconte chimed in, "those two could crush you with a single blow!"
"How so?" the priest asked. "Are these men so rich and powerful?"
"Don’t you know their story?"
"I don’t. Please tell me!"
Caderousse seemed to think for a few moments, then said, "No, truly, it would take too much time."
"Well, my good friend," the priest replied in a tone that suggested complete indifference, "you’re free to speak or stay silent, just as you please. For my part, I respect your scruples and admire your feelings, so let’s end this. I’ll do my duty as conscientiously as I can and fulfill my promise to the dying man. My first task will be to dispose of this diamond."
The priest again drew the small box from his pocket, opened it, and held it so that bright flashes of brilliant light passed before Caderousse’s dazzled eyes.
"Wife, wife!" he called in a hoarse voice. "Come here!"
"Diamond!" exclaimed Carconte, getting up and coming down to the main room with a reasonably steady step. "What diamond are you talking about?"
"Didn’t you hear everything we said?" Caderousse asked. "It’s a beautiful diamond left by poor Edmond Dantès, to be sold and the money divided between his father, Mercédès his fiancée, Fernand, Danglars, and myself. The jewel is worth at least fifty thousand francs."
"Oh, what a magnificent jewel!" the astonished woman cried.
"One-fifth of the money from this stone belongs to us, then, doesn’t it?" Caderousse asked.
"It does," the priest replied, "plus an equal share of the part intended for the elder Dantès, which I believe I’m free to divide equally among the four survivors."
"And why among the four of us?" Caderousse asked.
"As the friends Edmond valued as most faithful and devoted to him."
"I don’t call people friends who betray and ruin you," the wife muttered in a low voice.
"Of course not!" Caderousse quickly agreed. "That’s exactly what I was telling this gentleman. I said I thought it would be a sacrilegious crime to reward treachery, perhaps even murder."
"Remember," the priest answered calmly as he replaced the jewel and its case in his cassock pocket, "it’s your fault, not mine, if I do so. Please give me the addresses of both Fernand and Danglars so I can carry out Edmond’s last wishes."
Caderousse’s agitation became extreme, and large drops of sweat rolled down his heated forehead. As he watched the priest get up and go toward the door, apparently to check if his horse was sufficiently rested to continue his journey, Caderousse and his wife exchanged meaningful looks.
"There, you see, wife," he said. "This splendid diamond could all be ours, if we wanted it!"
"Surely a man of his holy profession wouldn’t deceive us!"
"Well," Carconte replied, "do as you like. I’m washing my hands of this affair." With that, she climbed the staircase to her room again, her body shaking with chills and her teeth chattering despite the intense heat. At the top of the stairs, she turned and called out in a warning tone to her husband, "Gaspard, think carefully about what you’re about to do!"
"I have both thought about it and decided," he answered. Carconte then entered her room, the floorboards creaking under her heavy, uncertain steps as she made her way to her armchair and collapsed into it as if exhausted.
"Well," the priest asked as he returned to the room below, "what have you decided to do?" This update is available on novel~fire~net
"To tell you everything I know," was the reply.
"I certainly think you’re acting wisely," the priest said. "Not because I have any desire to learn what you might want to hide from me, but simply because if I can distribute the inheritance according to the dead man’s wishes with your help, then so much the better."
"I hope it works out that way," Caderousse replied, his face flushed with greed.
"I’m all ears," the priest said.
"Wait a minute," Caderousse answered. "We might be interrupted during the most interesting part of my story, which would be a shame. And it’s better that your visit here be known only to us." With these words, he stealthily went to the door, closed it, and for extra security, bolted and barred it as he usually did at night.
Meanwhile, the priest had chosen a comfortable spot to listen. He moved his seat into a corner of the room where he would be in deep shadow while the light would fall fully on the storyteller. Then, with his head bent down and his hands clasped, or rather clenched, together, he prepared to give his complete attention to Caderousse, who seated himself on the little stool directly opposite him.
"Remember, this is none of my business," came the trembling voice of Carconte, as if she could see through the floorboards to the scene taking place below.
"Enough, enough!" Caderousse replied. "Say no more about it. I’ll take all the responsibility on myself."
And he began his story.