"Yes," nodded Ali.

"Dead?"

"No," shaking his head.

"But he is not able to move?"

Ali's face lighted up again when he saw he was understood.

"Haydee," said the count, turning to his wife, "I look upon it as a good sign that G.o.d has permitted me at this minute to do an act of charity.

Remain here, while I go with Ali to save the poor fellow."

"I shall accompany you," said Haydee, pleadingly; "let me take part in your good deeds."

"Then come, my darling," said Monte-Cristo, in whose eye a tear glistened, and they both followed Ali, who hurried toward the beach.

As they pa.s.sed by the entrance to the grotto, Haydee noticed that Bertuccio was making a hole in the rock with his pickaxe.

"What is Bertuccio doing?" asked Haydee, curiously.

"You shall find out later on," replied the count, and, turning to Bertuccio, he asked in a low voice:

"Is the work nearly finished?"

"Almost, count. I have just one thing more to do, and as soon as you give the sign, all will be over."

"Very well, Bertuccio, and now follow us."

The Corsican looked wonderingly at the count, and, taking his pick in his hand, walked behind. When they had reached the rear part of the little island, Ali paused and pointed to a rock which projected into the sea.

Monte-Cristo's eyes followed the Nubian's direction, and he recognized a human body lying at full length upon a rock. The face was turned aside, and a dark pool of blood indicated a wound. The man's right hand convulsively clutched a package. With a bound Monte-Cristo had reached the side of the motionless man, and taking him in his strong arms, he carried him to a small gra.s.s plot and carefully laid him down.

"Ali," he ordered, "run to the grotto and get some rum. Do not lose a minute, it is a question of life and death."

The Nubian departed, and Monte-Cristo laid his hand upon the wounded man's breast.

"He still lives," he exclaimed, breathing more freely, "and with G.o.d's help we will save him."

Suddenly a terrible cry was heard behind him, and Bertuccio stammeringly exclaimed:

"Oh, sir, it is the wretch, the murderer! Do you not recognize him?"

The count bent over the wounded man, and washing the blood from his face he exclaimed in horror:

"Really, it is Benedetto!"

"Back, sir," cried Bertuccio in a rage, as he swung his pickaxe, "I will crush the viper's skull."

The pick cleaved through the air, but before it descended on Benedetto's head, the count had grasped it, and with a powerful movement hurled it into the sea.

"Bertuccio," he said coldly, "what right have you to play the judge in my presence?"

"Oh, sir, pardon. Anger overcame me. Benedetto burned a.s.sunta, my sister-in-law and his foster mother, so as to get her money; he only lived from robbery and murder."

"He is a man, he must be saved."

Ali came now with the rum. The count poured a few drops into Benedetto's throat, Haydee rubbed his temples, and in a few minutes the wretch uttered a deep sigh and his lips moved, though his eyes still remained closed.

The count examined the wound.

"He will live," he said decisively. "The wound is not dangerous."

"It would be better for society if he died," hissed Bertuccio.

"Bertuccio," said the count sternly, "get some water and wash out this wound."

"But, count, I--"

"Yes, you! Either you obey, or we shall separate."

Bertuccio hurried away and soon returned with some water. He trembled with rage, as he washed Benedetto's wound, but he did not dare to say a word.

Haydee had in the meantime loosened a cord from the package and discovered a small oaken box, which she tried in vain to open. The count noticed it, and after he had carefully examined the lock, he murmured:

"I will try to open it with my key."

He really succeeded in doing it. The cover flew open, and the count could not repress a cry of surprise when he saw the pile of gold and bank-notes.

"Count," said Bertuccio, approaching, "he is opening his eyes."

"Did he recognize you?"

"Oh, no, he is still confused."

"So much the better. Keep yourself at a distance. He will recover."

"What is this?" exclaimed Bertuccio, catching a glimpse of the contents of the box. "It must be the spoils of some new robbery."

"Undoubtedly," said the count; "but, stay, there is a letter under these bank-notes which might clear up the mystery."

"My son," ran the letter, "I will send this letter to you on the eve of my departure from France. You have forgiven me. To-morrow I shall see you for the last time. May G.o.d be with you and place you under his protection. Your mother, H. D."

Monte-Cristo shuddered.

"Hermine Danglars," he muttered to himself. "Poor, poor woman!"

Shoving Bertuccio aside, he bent over Benedetto, and said, in a voice which penetrated the deepest depths of the soul:

"Benedetto, hear me!"