"How?"
"Yes," continued Caderousse, "and in this way, after five-and-twenty years of labor, after having acquired a most honorable name in the trade of Marseilles, M. Morrel is utterly ruined: he has lost five ships in two years, has suffered by the bankruptcy of three large houses, and his only hope now is in that very Pharaon which poor Dantès commanded, and which is expected from the Indies with a cargo of cochineal and indigo. If this ship founders, like the others, he is a ruined man."
"And has the unfortunate man wife or children?" inquired the abbé.
"Yes, he has a wife, who in all this behaved like an angel; he has a daughter who was about to marry the man she loved, but whose family now will not allow him to wed the daughter of a ruined man; he has, besides, a son, a lieutenant in the army; and, as you may suppose, all this, instead of soothing, doubles his grief. If he were alone in the world he would blow out his brains, and there would be an end."
"Horrible!" ejaculated the priest.
"And it is thus Heaven recompenses virtue, sir," added Caderousse.
"You see, I, who never did a bad action but that I have told you of, am in destitution; after having seen my poor wife die of a fever, unable to do anything in the world for her, I shall die of hunger, as old Dantès did, whilst Fernand and Danglars are rolling in wealth."
"How is that?"
"Because all their malpractices have turned to luck, while honest men have been reduced to misery."
"What has become of Danglars the instigator, and therefore the most guilty?"
"What has become of him? Why, he left Marseilles, and was taken, on the recommendation of M. Morrel, who did not know his crime, as cashier into a Spanish bank. During the war with Spain he was employed in the commissariat of the French army, and made a fortune; then with that money he speculated in the funds, and trebled or quadrupled his capital; and, having first married his banker's daughter, who left him a widower, he has married a second time, a widow, a Madame de Nargonne, daughter of M. de Salvieux, the king's chamberlain, who is in high favor at court. He is a millionaire, and they have made him a count, and now he is Le Comte Danglars, with an hotel in the Rue de Mont Blanc, with ten horses in his stables, six footmen in his antechamber, and I know not how many hundreds of thousands in his strong-box."
"Ah!" said the abbé, with a peculiar tone, "he is happy."
"Happy! who can answer for that? Happiness or unhappiness is the secret known but to one's self and the walls — walls have ears, but
