"Poor father!" murmured the priest.
"From day to day he lived on alone, and more and more solitary. Often M. Morrel and Mercédès came to see him, but his door was closed; and, although I was certain he was at home, he would not make any answer. One day, when, contrary to his custom, he had admitted Mercédès, and the poor girl, in spite of her own grief and despair, endeavored to console him, he said to her. 'Be assured, my dear daughter, he is dead; and instead of our awaiting him, it is he who is awaiting us; I am quite happy, for I am the oldest, and of course shall see him first.'
"However well disposed a person may be, why, you see, we leave off after a time seeing persons who make one melancholy, and so at last old Dantès was left all to himself, and I only saw from time to time strangers go up to him and come down again with some bundle they tried to hide; but I guessed what these bundles were, and he sold by degrees what he had to pay for his subsistence. At length, the poor old fellow reached the end of all he had; he owed three-quarters' rent, and they threatened to turn him out; he begged for another week, which was granted to him. I know this, because the landlord came into my apartment when he left his.
"For the three first days I heard him walking about as usual, but on the fourth I heard him no longer. I then resolved to go up to him, at all risks. The door was closed, but I looked through the keyhole, and saw him so pale and haggard, that believing him very ill, I went and told M. Morrel, and then ran on to Mercédès. They both came immediately, M. Morrel bringing a doctor, and the doctor said it was an affection of the stomach, and ordered him a limited diet. I was there too, and I never shall forget the old man's smile at this prescription.
"From that time he opened his door; he had an excuse for not eating any more, as the doctor had put him on a diet."
The abbé uttered a kind of groan.
"The story interests you, does it not, sir?" inquired Caderousse.
"Yes," replied the abbé; "it is very affecting."
"Mercédès came again, and she found him so altered that she was even more anxious than before to have him taken to her own abode. This was M. Morrel's wish also, who would fain have conveyed the old man against his consent; but the old man resisted, and cried so, that they were actually frightened. Mercédès remained, therefore, by his bedside, and M. Morrel went away, making a sign to the Catalane that he had left his purse on the chimney-piece; but, availing himself of the doctor's order, the old man would not take any sustenance. At length (after nine days' despair and fasting) the old man died, cursing those who had caused his misery, and saying to Mercedes,—'If you ever see my Edmond again, tell him I die blessing him.'"
