"That is true enough," returned Caderousse; "besides, what would it be to them? no more than a drop of water in the ocean."
"And remember, husband," chimed in La Carconte, "that these two men could crush you with a wave of the hand!"
"How so?" inquired the abbé. "Are these persons, then, so rich and powerful?"
"Do you not know their history?"
"I do not. Pray relate it to me!"
Caderousse seemed to reflect for a few instants, then said:
"No, truly; it would take up too much time."
"Well, my good friend," returned the abbé, in a tone that indicated utter indifference on his part, "just as you please; I respect your scruples, so let the matter end. I had a simple formality to discharge; I shall sell the diamond."
So saying, the abbé again drew the small box from his pocket, opened it, and flashed the stone before the dazzled gaze of Caderousse.
"Wife, wife!" cried he, in a hoarse voice, "come and see it."
"Diamond!" exclaimed La Carconte, rising and descending to the chamber with a tolerably firm step; "what diamond are you talking about?"
"Why, did you not hear all we said?" inquired Caderousse. "It is a beautiful diamond left by poor Edmond Dantès, to be sold, and the money divided among his father, Mercédès, his betrothed bride, Fernand, Danglars, and myself. The jewel is worth at least 50,000 francs."
"Oh, what a splendid jewel!" cried the astonished woman.
"The fifth part of the produce of this stone belongs to us, then, does it not?" asked Caderousse.
"It does," replied the abbé; "with the addition of an equal division of that part intended for the elder Dantès, which I conceive myself at liberty to share equally with the four surviving persons."
"And wherefore among us four?" inquired Caderousse.
"As being the four friends of Edmond."
"I don't call those friends who betray and ruin you," murmured the wife, in her turn, in a low, muttering voice.
"Of course not!" rejoined Caderousse, quickly; "no more do I; and that was what I was observing just now. It is a sacrilegious profanation to reward treachery, perhaps crime."
"Remember," answered the abbé, calmly, as he replaced the jewel in the pocket of his cassock, "it is your fault, not mine. You will have the goodness to furnish me with the address of both the friends of Edmond, in order that I may execute his last wishes."
The agitation of Caderouse became extreme, and large drops of
