treasure, rolled himself along on his blue convolutions and peared. Dantès approached the upper rock, which now, without any support, leaned toward the sea. The intrepid treasure-seeker walked round it, and, selecting the spot from whence it appeared most easy to attack it, 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. Dantès redoubled his efforts; he seemed like one of the ancient Titans, who uprooted the mountains to hurl against the father of the gods. The rock yielded, rolled, bounded, and finally disappeared in the ocean.
On the spot it had occupied was visible a circular place, and which exposed an iron ring let into a square flag-stone.
Dantès uttered a cry of joy and surprise; never had a first attempt been crowned with more perfect success. He would fain have continued, but his knees trembled, his heart beat so violently, and his eyes became so dim, that he was forced to pause.
This feeling lasted but for the time of a flash. Edmond inserted his lever in the ring, and exerting all his strength, the flag-stone yielded, and disclosed a kind of stair that descended until it was lost in the increasing obscurity of a subterraneous grotto.
Any one else would have rushed on with a cry of joy. Dantès turned pale, hesitated, and reflected.
"Come," said he to himself, "be a man. I am accustomed to adversity. I must not be cast down by the discovery that I have been deceived. What, then, would be the use of all I have suffered? The heart breaks when, after having been extravagantly elated by the warm breath of hope, it relapses into cold reality. Faria has dreamed this; the Cardinal Spada buried no treasure here; perhaps he never came here, or if he did, Cæsar Borgia, the intrepid adventurer, the stealthy and indefatigable plunderer, has followed him, discovered his traces, pursued as I have done, like me raised the stone, and descending before me, has left me nothing."
He remained motionless and pensive, his eyes fixed on the somber aperture that was open at his feet.
"Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer entertain the slightest hopes, the end of this adventure becomes a simple matter of curiosity."
And he remained again motionless and thoughtful.
"Yes, yes; this is an adventure worthy a place in the lights and shades of the life of this royal bandit, in the tissue of strange events that compose the checkered web of his existence; this fabulous event has formed but a link of a vast chain. Yes, Borgia has been here, a
