"It may be so," said Monte-Cristo, rising from the bench on which he had been sitting; "but," added he, in a lower tone, "whether the procureur du roi be dead or riot, the Abbe Busoni did right to send you to me, and you have also acted extremely proper in relating to me the
whole of your history, as it will prevent my forming any erroneous
opinions concerning you in future. As for that Benedetto, who so
grossly belied his name, have you never made any effort to trace out whither he has gone, or what has become of him!"
"No; if I knew where he was, in place of going to him, I would fly as from a monster. Thank God, I have never heard his name mentioned by any person, and I hope he is dead."
"Have no such hope," replied the count, "the bad do not die so. God seems to take them under his care to make them instruments of his vengeance."
"I am content to have him live," continued Bertuccio, "so that he spares me the misery of ever again beholding him. And now, M. le Comte," added the steward, bending humbly forward, "you know every secret of my life—you are my judge on earth, as the Almighty is in heaven—have you no words of consolation to bestow on a repentant sinner?"
"I can only say to you, what Busoni would say. Villefort, the man you killed, merited punishment for the wrongs he had done you, and, it may be, for other crimes likewise. Benedetto, if still living, will become the instrument of divine retribution in some way or other, and then be duly punished in his turn. As far as you yourself are concerned, I see but one point in which you are really guilty. Ask yourself, wherefore, after rescuing the infant from its living grave, you did not restore it to its mother? There was the crime, Bertuccio."
"True, my lord; there, as you say, I acted wickedly, and, moreover, cowardly. My first duty, directly I had succeeded in recalling the babe to life, should have been to have restored it to its mother; but, in order to do so, I must have made close and careful inquiry, which would, in all probability, have led to my own apprehension; and I clung to life, partly on my sister's account, and partly from that feeling of pride inborn in our hearts of desiring to come off untouched and victorious in our vengeance. Perhaps, too, the mere love of life made me cling to life. And then, again, I was not formed as brave as my poor brother."
Bertuccio hid his face in his hands as he uttered these words, while Monte-Cristo fixed on him a long and indescribable gaze. After a brief silence, rendered still more solemn by the time and place, the count said, in a tone of melancholy wholly unlike his usual manner:
"In order to bring this conversation to a befitting termination (as I promise you never again to revert to it), I will repeat to you some words
