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Count of Monte Cristo, The
Chapter 18 - The Treasure
Alexandre Dumas
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       _ When Dantes returned next morning to the chamber of his
       companion in captivity, he found Faria seated and looking
       composed. In the ray of light which entered by the narrow
       window of his cell, he held open in his left hand, of which
       alone, it will be recollected, he retained the use, a sheet
       of paper, which, from being constantly rolled into a small
       compass, had the form of a cylinder, and was not easily kept
       open. He did not speak, but showed the paper to Dantes.
       "What is that?" he inquired.
       "Look at it," said the abbe with a smile.
       "I have looked at it with all possible attention," said
       Dantes, "and I only see a half-burnt paper, on which are
       traces of Gothic characters inscribed with a peculiar kind
       of ink."
       "This paper, my friend," said Faria, "I may now avow to you,
       since I have the proof of your fidelity -- this paper is my
       treasure, of which, from this day forth, one-half belongs to
       you."
       The sweat started forth on Dantes brow. Until this day and
       for how long a time! -- he had refrained from talking of the
       treasure, which had brought upon the abbe the accusation of
       madness. With his instinctive delicacy Edmond had preferred
       avoiding any touch on this painful chord, and Faria had been
       equally silent. He had taken the silence of the old man for
       a return to reason; and now these few words uttered by
       Faria, after so painful a crisis, seemed to indicate a
       serious relapse into mental alienation.
       "Your treasure?" stammered Dantes. Faria smiled.
       "Yes," said he. "You have, indeed, a noble nature, Edmond,
       and I see by your paleness and agitation what is passing in
       your heart at this moment. No, be assured, I am not mad.
       This treasure exists, Dantes, and if I have not been allowed
       to possess it, you will. Yes -- you. No one would listen or
       believe me, because everyone thought me mad; but you, who
       must know that I am not, listen to me, and believe me so
       afterwards if you will."
       "Alas," murmured Edmond to himself, "this is a terrible
       relapse! There was only this blow wanting." Then he said
       aloud, "My dear friend, your attack has, perhaps, fatigued
       you; had you not better repose awhile? To-morrow, if you
       will, I will hear your narrative; but to-day I wish to nurse
       you carefully. Besides," he said, "a treasure is not a thing
       we need hurry about."
       "On the contrary, it is a matter of the utmost importance,
       Edmond!" replied the old man. "Who knows if to-morrow, or
       the next day after, the third attack may not come on? and
       then must not all be over? Yes, indeed, I have often thought
       with a bitter joy that these riches, which would make the
       wealth of a dozen families, will be forever lost to those
       men who persecute me. This idea was one of vengeance to me,
       and I tasted it slowly in the night of my dungeon and the
       despair of my captivity. But now I have forgiven the world
       for the love of you; now that I see you, young and with a
       promising future, -- now that I think of all that may result
       to you in the good fortune of such a disclosure, I shudder
       at any delay, and tremble lest I should not assure to one as
       worthy as yourself the possession of so vast an amount of
       hidden wealth." Edmond turned away his head with a sigh.
       "You persist in your incredulity, Edmond," continued Faria.
       "My words have not convinced you. I see you require proofs.
       Well, then, read this paper, which I have never shown to any
       one."
       "To-morrow, my dear friend," said Edmond, desirous of not
       yielding to the old man's madness. "I thought it was
       understood that we should not talk of that until to-morrow."
       "Then we will not talk of it until to-morrow; but read this
       paper to-day."
       "I will not irritate him," thought Edmond, and taking the
       paper, of which half was wanting, -- having been burnt, no
       doubt, by some accident, -- he read: --
       "This treasure, which may amount to two...
       of Roman crowns in the most distant a...
       of the second opening wh...
       declare to belong to him alo...
       heir.
       "25th April, l49"
       "Well!" said Faria, when the young man had finished reading
       it.
       "Why," replied Dantes, "I see nothing but broken lines and
       unconnected words, which are rendered illegible by fire."
       "Yes, to you, my friend, who read them for the first time;
       but not for me, who have grown pale over them by many
       nights' study, and have reconstructed every phrase,
       completed every thought."
       "And do you believe you have discovered the hidden meaning?"
       "I am sure I have, and you shall judge for yourself; but
       first listen to the history of this paper."
       "Silence!" exclaimed Dantes. "Steps approach -- I go --
       adieu."
       And Dantes, happy to escape the history and explanation
       which would be sure to confirm his belief in his friend's
       mental instability, glided like a snake along the narrow
       passage; while Faria, restored by his alarm to a certain
       amount of activity, pushed the stone into place with his
       foot, and covered it with a mat in order the more
       effectually to avoid discovery.
       It was the governor, who, hearing of Faria's illness from
       the jailer, had come in person to see him.
       Faria sat up to receive him, avoiding all gestures in order
       that he might conceal from the governor the paralysis that
       had already half stricken him with death. His fear was lest
       the governor, touched with pity, might order him to be
       removed to better quarters, and thus separate him from his
       young companion. But fortunately this was not the case, and
       the governor left him, convinced that the poor madman, for
       whom in his heart he felt a kind of affection, was only
       troubled with a slight indisposition.
       During this time, Edmond, seated on his bed with his head in
       his hands, tried to collect his scattered thoughts. Faria,
       since their first acquaintance, had been on all points so
       rational and logical, so wonderfully sagacious, in fact,
       that he could not understand how so much wisdom on all
       points could be allied with madness. Was Faria deceived as
       to his treasure, or was all the world deceived as to Faria?
       Dantes remained in his cell all day, not daring to return to
       his friend, thinking thus to defer the moment when he should
       be convinced, once for all, that the abbe was mad -- such a
       conviction would be so terrible!
       But, towards the evening after the hour for the customary
       visit had gone by, Faria, not seeing the young man appear,
       tried to move and get over the distance which separated
       them. Edmond shuddered when he heard the painful efforts
       which the old man made to drag himself along; his leg was
       inert, and he could no longer make use of one arm. Edmond
       was obliged to assist him, for otherwise he would not have
       been able to enter by the small aperture which led to
       Dantes' chamber.
       "Here I am, pursuing you remorselessly," he said with a
       benignant smile. "You thought to escape my munificence, but
       it is in vain. Listen to me."
       Edmond saw there was no escape, and placing the old man on
       his bed, he seated himself on the stool beside him.
       "You know," said the abbe, "that I was the secretary and
       intimate friend of Cardinal Spada, the last of the princes
       of that name. I owe to this worthy lord all the happiness I
       ever knew. He was not rich, although the wealth of his
       family had passed into a proverb, and I heard the phrase
       very often, `As rich as a Spada.' But he, like public rumor,
       lived on this reputation for wealth; his palace was my
       paradise. I was tutor to his nephews, who are dead; and when
       he was alone in the world, I tried by absolute devotion to
       his will, to make up to him all he had done for me during
       ten years of unremitting kindness. The cardinal's house had
       no secrets for me. I had often seen my noble patron
       annotating ancient volumes, and eagerly searching amongst
       dusty family manuscripts. One day when I was reproaching him
       for his unavailing searches, and deploring the prostration
       of mind that followed them, he looked at me, and, smiling
       bitterly, opened a volume relating to the History of the
       City of Rome. There, in the twentieth chapter of the Life of
       Pope Alexander VI., were the following lines, which I can
       never forget: --
       "`The great wars of Romagna had ended; Caesar Borgia, who
       had completed his conquest, had need of money to purchase
       all Italy. The pope had also need of money to bring matters
       to an end with Louis XII. King of France, who was formidable
       still in spite of his recent reverses; and it was necessary,
       therefore, to have recourse to some profitable scheme, which
       was a matter of great difficulty in the impoverished
       condition of exhausted Italy. His holiness had an idea. He
       determined to make two cardinals.'
       "By choosing two of the greatest personages of Rome,
       especially rich men -- this was the return the holy father
       looked for. In the first place, he could sell the great
       appointments and splendid offices which the cardinals
       already held; and then he had the two hats to sell besides.
       There was a third point in view, which will appear
       hereafter. The pope and Caesar Borgia first found the two
       future cardinals; they were Giovanni Rospigliosi, who held
       four of the highest dignities of the Holy See, and Caesar
       Spada, one of the noblest and richest of the Roman nobility;
       both felt the high honor of such a favor from the pope. They
       were ambitious, and Caesar Borgia soon found purchasers for
       their appointments. The result was, that Rospigliosi and
       Spada paid for being cardinals, and eight other persons paid
       for the offices the cardinals held before their elevation,
       and thus eight hundred thousand crowns entered into the
       coffers of the speculators.
       "It is time now to proceed to the last part of the
       speculation. The pope heaped attentions upon Rospigliosi and
       Spada, conferred upon them the insignia of the cardinalate,
       and induced them to arrange their affairs and take up their
       residence at Rome. Then the pope and Caesar Borgia invited
       the two cardinals to dinner. This was a matter of dispute
       between the holy father and his son. Caesar thought they
       could make use of one of the means which he always had ready
       for his friends, that is to say, in the first place, the
       famous key which was given to certain persons with the
       request that they go and open a designated cupboard. This
       key was furnished with a small iron point, -- a negligence
       on the part of the locksmith. When this was pressed to
       effect the opening of the cupboard, of which the lock was
       difficult, the person was pricked by this small point, and
       died next day. Then there was the ring with the lion's head,
       which Caesar wore when he wanted to greet his friends with a
       clasp of the hand. The lion bit the hand thus favored, and
       at the end of twenty-four hours, the bite was mortal. Caesar
       proposed to his father, that they should either ask the
       cardinals to open the cupboard, or shake hands with them;
       but Alexander VI., replied: `Now as to the worthy cardinals,
       Spada and Rospigliosi, let us ask both of them to dinner,
       something tells me that we shall get that money back.
       Besides, you forget, Caesar, an indigestion declares itself
       immediately, while a prick or a bite occasions a delay of a
       day or two.' Caesar gave way before such cogent reasoning,
       and the cardinals were consequently invited to dinner.
       "The table was laid in a vineyard belonging to the pope,
       near San Pierdarena, a charming retreat which the cardinals
       knew very well by report. Rospigliosi, quite set up with his
       new dignities, went with a good appetite and his most
       ingratiating manner. Spada, a prudent man, and greatly
       attached to his only nephew, a young captain of the highest
       promise, took paper and pen, and made his will. He then sent
       word to his nephew to wait for him near the vineyard; but it
       appeared the servant did not find him.
       "Spada knew what these invitations meant; since
       Christianity, so eminently civilizing, had made progress in
       Rome, it was no longer a centurion who came from the tyrant
       with a message, `Caesar wills that you die.' but it was a
       legate a latere, who came with a smile on his lips to say
       from the pope, `His holiness requests you to dine with him.'
       "Spada set out about two o'clock to San Pierdarena. The pope
       awaited him. The first sight that attracted the eyes of
       Spada was that of his nephew, in full costume, and Caesar
       Borgia paying him most marked attentions. Spada turned pale,
       as Caesar looked at him with an ironical air, which proved
       that he had anticipated all, and that the snare was well
       spread. They began dinner and Spada was only able to inquire
       of his nephew if he had received his message. The nephew
       replied no; perfectly comprehending the meaning of the
       question. It was too late, for he had already drunk a glass
       of excellent wine, placed for him expressly by the pope's
       butler. Spada at the same moment saw another bottle approach
       him, which he was pressed to taste. An hour afterwards a
       physician declared they were both poisoned through eating
       mushrooms. Spada died on the threshold of the vineyard; the
       nephew expired at his own door, making signs which his wife
       could not comprehend.
       "Then Caesar and the pope hastened to lay hands on the
       heritage, under presence of seeking for the papers of the
       dead man. But the inheritance consisted in this only, a
       scrap of paper on which Spada had written: -- `I bequeath to
       my beloved nephew my coffers, my books, and, amongst others,
       my breviary with the gold corners, which I beg he will
       preserve in remembrance of his affectionate uncle.'
       "The heirs sought everywhere, admired the breviary, laid
       hands on the furniture, and were greatly astonished that
       Spada, the rich man, was really the most miserable of uncles
       -- no treasures -- unless they were those of science,
       contained in the library and laboratories. That was all.
       Caesar and his father searched, examined, scrutinized, but
       found nothing, or at least very little; not exceeding a few
       thousand crowns in plate, and about the same in ready money;
       but the nephew had time to say to his wife before he
       expired: `Look well among my uncle's papers; there is a
       will.'
       "They sought even more thoroughly than the august heirs had
       done, but it was fruitless. There were two palaces and a
       vineyard behind the Palatine Hill; but in these days landed
       property had not much value, and the two palaces and the
       vineyard remained to the family since they were beneath the
       rapacity of the pope and his son. Months and years rolled
       on. Alexander VI. died, poisoned, -- you know by what
       mistake. Caesar, poisoned at the same time, escaped by
       shedding his skin like a snake; but the new skin was spotted
       by the poison till it looked like a tiger's. Then, compelled
       to quit Rome, he went and got himself obscurely killed in a
       night skirmish, scarcely noticed in history. After the
       pope's death and his son's exile, it was supposed that the
       Spada family would resume the splendid position they had
       held before the cardinal's time; but this was not the case.
       The Spadas remained in doubtful ease, a mystery hung over
       this dark affair, and the public rumor was, that Caesar, a
       better politician than his father, had carried off from the
       pope the fortune of the two cardinals. I say the two,
       because Cardinal Rospigliosi, who had not taken any
       precaution, was completely despoiled.
       "Up to this point," said Faria, interrupting the thread of
       his narrative, "this seems to you very meaningless, no
       doubt, eh?"
       "Oh, my friend," cried Dantes, "on the contrary, it seems as
       if I were reading a most interesting narrative; go on, I beg
       of you."
       "I will."
       "The family began to get accustomed to their obscurity.
       Years rolled on, and amongst the descendants some were
       soldiers, others diplomatists; some churchmen, some bankers;
       some grew rich, and some were ruined. I come now to the last
       of the family, whose secretary I was -- the Count of Spada.
       I had often heard him complain of the disproportion of his
       rank with his fortune; and I advised him to invest all he
       had in an annuity. He did so, and thus doubled his income.
       The celebrated breviary remained in the family, and was in
       the count's possession. It had been handed down from father
       to son; for the singular clause of the only will that had
       been found, had caused it to be regarded as a genuine relic,
       preserved in the family with superstitious veneration. It
       was an illuminated book, with beautiful Gothic characters,
       and so weighty with gold, that a servant always carried it
       before the cardinal on days of great solemnity.
       "At the sight of papers of all sorts, -- titles, contracts,
       parchments, which were kept in the archives of the family,
       all descending from the poisoned cardinal, I in my turn
       examined the immense bundles of documents, like twenty
       servitors, stewards, secretaries before me; but in spite of
       the most exhaustive researches, I found -- nothing. Yet I
       had read, I had even written a precise history of the Borgia
       family, for the sole purpose of assuring myself whether any
       increase of fortune had occurred to them on the death of the
       Cardinal Caesar Spada; but could only trace the acquisition
       of the property of the Cardinal Rospigliosi, his companion
       in misfortune.
       " I was then almost assured that the inheritance had neither
       profited the Borgias nor the family, but had remained
       unpossessed like the treasures of the Arabian Nights, which
       slept in the bosom of the earth under the eyes of the genie.
       I searched, ransacked, counted, calculated a thousand and a
       thousand times the income and expenditure of the family for
       three hundred years. It was useless. I remained in my
       ignorance, and the Count of Spada in his poverty. My patron
       died. He had reserved from his annuity his family papers,
       his library, composed of five thousand volumes, and his
       famous breviary. All these he bequeathed to me, with a
       thousand Roman crowns, which he had in ready money, on
       condition that I would have anniversary masses said for the
       repose of his soul, and that I would draw up a genealogical
       tree and history of his house. All this I did scrupulously.
       Be easy, my dear Edmond, we are near the conclusion.
       "In 1807, a month before I was arrested, and a fortnight
       after the death of the Count of Spada, on the 25th of
       December (you will see presently how the date became fixed
       in my memory), I was reading, for the thousandth time, the
       papers I was arranging, for the palace was sold to a
       stranger, and I was going to leave Rome and settle at
       Florence, intending to take with me twelve thousand francs I
       possessed, my library, and the famous breviary, when, tired
       with my constant labor at the same thing, and overcome by a
       heavy dinner I had eaten, my head dropped on my hands, and I
       fell asleep about three o'clock in the afternoon. I awoke as
       the clock was striking six. I raised my head; I was in utter
       darkness. I rang for a light, but as no one came, I
       determined to find one for myself. It was indeed but
       anticipating the simple manners which I should soon be under
       the necessity of adopting. I took a wax-candle in one hand,
       and with the other groped about for a piece of paper (my
       match-box being empty), with which I proposed to get a light
       from the small flame still playing on the embers. Fearing,
       however, to make use of any valuable piece of paper, I
       hesitated for a moment, then recollected that I had seen in
       the famous breviary, which was on the table beside me, an
       old paper quite yellow with age, and which had served as a
       marker for centuries, kept there by the request of the
       heirs. I felt for it, found it, twisted it up together, and
       putting it into the expiring flame, set light to it.
       "But beneath my fingers, as if by magic, in proportion as
       the fire ascended, I saw yellowish characters appear on the
       paper. I grasped it in my hand, put out the flame as quickly
       as I could, lighted my taper in the fire itself, and opened
       the crumpled paper with inexpressible emotion, recognizing,
       when I had done so, that these characters had been traced in
       mysterious and sympathetic ink, only appearing when exposed
       to the fire; nearly one-third of the paper had been consumed
       by the flame. It was that paper you read this morning; read
       it again, Dantes, and then I will complete for you the
       incomplete words and unconnected sense."
       Faria, with an air of triumph, offered the paper to Dantes,
       who this time read the following words, traced with an ink
       of a reddish color resembling rust: --
       "This 25th day of April, 1498, be...
       Alexander VI., and fearing that not...
       he may desire to become my heir, and re...
       and Bentivoglio, who were poisoned,...
       my sole heir, that I have bu...
       and has visited with me, that is, in...
       Island of Monte Cristo, all I poss...
       jewels, diamonds, gems; that I alone...
       may amount to nearly two mil...
       will find on raising the twentieth ro...
       creek to the east in a right line. Two open...
       in these caves; the treasure is in the furthest a...
       which treasure I bequeath and leave en...
       as my sole heir.
       "25th April, 1498.
       "Caes...
       "And now," said the abbe, "read this other paper;" and he
       presented to Dantes a second leaf with fragments of lines
       written on it, which Edmond read as follows: --
       "...ing invited to dine by his Holiness
       ...content with making me pay for my hat,
       ...serves for me the fate of Cardinals Caprara
       ...I declare to my nephew, Guido Spada
       ...ried in a place he knows
       ...the caves of the small
       ...essed of ingots, gold, money,
       ...know of the existence of this treasure, which
       ...lions of Roman crowns, and which he
       ...ck from the small
       ...ings have been made
       ...ngle in the second;
       ...tire to him
       ...ar Spada."
       Faria followed him with an excited look. "and now," he said,
       when he saw that Dantes had read the last line, "put the two
       fragments together, and judge for yourself." Dantes obeyed,
       and the conjointed pieces gave the following: --
       "This 25th day of April, 1498, be...ing invited to dine by
       his Holiness Alexander VI., and fearing that not...content
       with making me pay for my hat, he may desire to become my
       heir, and re...serves for me the fate of Cardinals Caprara
       and Bentivoglio, who were poisoned...I declare to my nephew,
       Guido Spada, my sole heir, that I have bu...ried in a place
       he knows and has visited with me, that is, in...the caves of
       the small Island of Monte Cristo all I poss...ssed of
       ingots, gold, money, jewels, diamonds, gems; that I
       alone...know of the existence of this treasure, which may
       amount to nearly two mil...lions of Roman crowns, and which
       he will find on raising the twentieth ro...ck from the small
       creek to the east in a right line. Two open...ings have been
       made in these caves; the treasure is in the furthest
       a...ngle in the second; which treasure I bequeath and leave
       en...tire to him as my sole heir.
       "25th April, 1498.
       "Caes...ar Spada."
       "Well, do you comprehend now?" inquired Faria.
       "It is the declaration of Cardinal Spada, and the will so
       long sought for," replied Edmond, still incredulous.
       "Yes; a thousand times, yes!"
       "And who completed it as it now is?"
       "I did. Aided by the remaining fragment, I guessed the rest;
       measuring the length of the lines by those of the paper, and
       divining the hidden meaning by means of what was in part
       revealed, as we are guided in a cavern by the small ray of
       light above us."
       "And what did you do when you arrived at this conclusion?"
       "I resolved to set out, and did set out at that very
       instant, carrying with me the beginning of my great work,
       the unity of the Italian kingdom; but for some time the
       imperial police (who at this period, quite contrary to what
       Napoleon desired so soon as he had a son born to him, wished
       for a partition of provinces) had their eyes on me; and my
       hasty departure, the cause of which they were unable to
       guess, having aroused their suspicions, I was arrested at
       the very moment I was leaving Piombino.
       "Now," continued Faria, addressing Dantes with an almost
       paternal expression, "now, my dear fellow, you know as much
       as I do myself. If we ever escape together, half this
       treasure is yours; if I die here, and you escape alone, the
       whole belongs to you."
       "But," inquired Dantes hesitating, "has this treasure no
       more legitimate possessor in the world than ourselves?"
       "No, no, be easy on that score; the family is extinct. The
       last Count of Spada, moreover, made me his heir, bequeathing
       to me this symbolic breviary, he bequeathed to me all it
       contained; no, no, make your mind satisfied on that point.
       If we lay hands on this fortune, we may enjoy it without
       remorse."
       "And you say this treasure amounts to" --
       "Two millions of Roman crowns; nearly thirteen millions of
       our money."*
       * $2,600,000 in 1894.
       "Impossible!" said Dantes, staggered at the enormous amount.
       "Impossible? and why?" asked the old man. "The Spada family
       was one of the oldest and most powerful families of the
       fifteenth century; and in those times, when other
       opportunities for investment were wanting, such
       accumulations of gold and jewels were by no means rare;
       there are at this day Roman families perishing of hunger,
       though possessed of nearly a million in diamonds and jewels,
       handed down by entail, and which they cannot touch." Edmond
       thought he was in a dream -- he wavered between incredulity
       and joy.
       "I have only kept this secret so long from you," continued
       Faria, "that I might test your character, and then surprise
       you. Had we escaped before my attack of catalepsy, I should
       have conducted you to Monte Cristo; now," he added, with a
       sigh, "it is you who will conduct me thither. Well, Dantes,
       you do not thank me?"
       "This treasure belongs to you, my dear friend," replied
       Dantes, "and to you only. I have no right to it. I am no
       relation of yours."
       "You are my son, Dantes," exclaimed the old man. "You are
       the child of my captivity. My profession condemns me to
       celibacy. God has sent you to me to console, at one and the
       same time, the man who could not be a father, and the
       prisoner who could not get free." And Faria extended the arm
       of which alone the use remained to him to the young man who
       threw himself upon his neck and wept. _
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本书目录

Chapter 1 Marseilles - The Arrival
Chapter 2 - Father and Son
Chapter 3 - The Catalans
Chapter 4 - Conspiracy
Chapter 5 - The Marriage-Feast
Chapter 6 - The Deputy Procureur du Roi
Chapter 7 - The Examination
Chapter 8 - The Chateau D'If
Chapter 9 - The Evening of the Betrothal
Chapter 10 - The King's Closet at the Tuileries
Chapter 11 - The Corsican Ogre
Chapter 12 - Father and Son
Chapter 13 - The Hundred Days
Chapter 14 - The Two Prisoners
Chapter 15 - Number 34 and Number 27
Chapter 16 - A Learned Italian
Chapter 17 - The Abbe's Chamber
Chapter 18 - The Treasure
Chapter 19 - The Third Attack
Chapter 20 - The Cemetery of the Chateau D'If
Chapter 21 - The Island of Tiboulen
Chapter 22 - The Smugglers
Chapter 23 - The Island of Monte Cristo
Chapter 24 - The Secret Cave
Chapter 25 - The Unknown
Chapter 26 - The Pont du Gard Inn
Chapter 27 - The Story
Chapter 28 - The Prison Register
Chapter 29 - The House of Morrel & Son
Chapter 30 - The Fifth of September
Chapter 31 - Italy: Sinbad the Sailor
Chapter 32 - The Waking
Chapter 33 - Roman Bandits
Chapter 34 - The Colosseum
Chapter 35 - La Mazzolata
Chapter 36 - The Carnival at Rome
Chapter 37 - The Catacombs of Saint Sebastian
Chapter 38 - The Compact
Chapter 39 - The Guests
Chapter 40 - The Breakfast
Chapter 41 - The Presentation
Chapter 42 - Monsieur Bertuccio
Chapter 43 - The House at Auteuil
Chapter 44 - The Vendetta
Chapter 45 - The Rain of Blood
Chapter 46 - Unlimited Credit
Chapter 47 - The Dappled Grays
Chapter 48 - Ideology
Chapter 49 - Haidee
Chapter 50 - The Morrel Family
Chapter 51 - Pyramus and Thisbe
Chapter 52 - Toxicology
Chapter 53 - Robert le Diable
Chapter 54 - A Flurry in Stocks
Chapter 55 - Major Cavalcanti
Chapter 56 - Andrea Cavalcanti
Chapter 57 - In the Lucerne Patch
Chapter 58 - M Noirtier de Villefort
Chapter 59 - The Will
Chapter 60 - The Telegraph
Chapter 61 - How a Gardener may get rid of the Dormice that eat His Peaches
Chapter 62 - Ghosts
Chapter 63 - The Dinner
Chapter 64 - The Beggar
Chapter 65 - A Conjugal Scene
Chapter 66 - Matrimonial Projects
Chapter 67 - At the Office of the King's Attorney
Chapter 68 - A Summer Ball
Chapter 69 - The Inquiry
Chapter 70 - The Ball
Chapter 71 - Bread and Salt
Chapter 72 - Madame de Saint-Meran
Chapter 73 - The Promise
Chapter 74 - The Villefort Family Vault
Chapter 75 - A Signed Statement
Chapter 76 - Progress of Cavalcanti the Younger
Chapter 77 - Haidee
Chapter 78 - We hear From Yanina
Chapter 79 - The Lemonade
Chapter 80 - The Accusation
Chapter 81 - The Room of the Retired Baker
Chapter 82 - The Burglary
Chapter 83 - The Hand of God
Chapter 84 - Beauchamp
Chapter 85 - The Journey
Chapter 86 - The Trial
Chapter 87 - The Challenge
Chapter 88 - The Insult
Chapter 89 - A Nocturnal Interview
Chapter 90 - The Meeting
Chapter 91 - Mother and Son
Chapter 92 - The Suicide
Chapter 93 - Valentine
Chapter 94 - Maximilian's Avowal
Chapter 95 - Father and Daughter
Chapter 96 - The Contract
Chapter 97 - The Departure for Belgium
Chapter 98 - The Bell and Bottle Tavern
Chapter 99 - The Law
Chapter 100 - The Apparition
Chapter 101 - Locusta
Chapter 102 - Valentine
Chapter 103 - Maximilian
Chapter 104 - Danglars Signature
Chapter 105 - The Cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise
Chapter 106 - Dividing the Proceeds
Chapter 107 - The Lions' Den
Chapter 108 - The Judge
Chapter 109 - The Assizes
Chapter 110 - The Indictment
Chapter 111 - Expiation
Chapter 112 - The Departure
Chapter 113 - The Past
Chapter 114 - Peppino
Chapter 115 - Luigi Vampa's Bill of Fare
Chapter 116 - The Pardon
Chapter 117 - The Fifth of October