shining night of their own imagination more stars than are visible in the firmament; then he re-opened them, and stood motionless with amazement.
Three compartments divided the coffer. In the first, blazed piles of golden coin; in the second, bars of unpolished gold, which possessed nothing attractive save their value, were ranged; in the third, half-full, Edmond grasped handfuls of diamonds, pearls, and rubies, which as they fell on one another in a glittering cascade, sounded like hail against glass.
After having touched, felt, examined these treasures of gold and gems, Edmond rushed through the caverns like a man seized with frenzy; he leaped on a rock, from whence he could behold the sea. He was alone. Alone with these countless, these unheard-of fabulous treasures! Was he awake, or was it but a dream? Was it a transient vision, or was he face to face with reality?
He would fain have gazed upon his gold, and yet he felt that he had not strength enough; for an instant he leaned his head in his hands as if to prevent his senses from leaving him, and then rushed madly about the rocks of Monte-Cristo without following — not a road, for there is no road in the island — any definite course, terrifying the wild goats and scaring the sea-fowls with his wild cries and gestures; then he returned, and, still unable to believe the evidence of his senses, rushed through the first grotto into the second, and found himself before this mine of gold and jewels.
This time he fell on his knees, and, clasping his hands convulsively, uttered a prayer intelligible to God alone. He soon felt himself calmer and more happy, for now only he began to credit his felicity.
He then set himself to work to count his fortune. There were a thousand ingots of gold, each weighing from three pounds; then he piled up twenty-five thousand crowns, each worth about twenty dollars of our money, and bearing the effigies of Alexander VI. and his predecessors; and he saw that the compartment was not half empty. And he measured ten double-handfuls of precious stones, many of which, mounted by the most famous workmen, were valuable for their execution.
Dantès saw the light gradually disappear; and fearing to be surprised in the cavern, left it, his gun in his hand. A piece of biscuit and a small quantity of wine formed his supper; then he replaced the stone, stretched himself upon it, and snatched a few hours' sleep, lying over the mouth of the cave.
This night was one of those delicious and yet terrible ones, of which this man of paralyzing emotions had already passed two or three in his lifetime.
