On the spot it had occupied was a circular space, exposing an iron ring let into a square flag-stone.Dantes uttered a cry of joy and surprise; never had a first attempt been crowned with more perfect success.He would fain have continued, but his knees trembled, and his heart beat so violently, and his sight became so dim, that he was forced to pause.This feeling lasted but for a moment.Edmond inserted his lever in the ring and exerted all his strength;the flag-stone yielded, and disclosed steps that descended until they were lost in the obscurity of a subterraneous grotto.Any one else would have rushed on with a cry of joy.
Dantes turned pale, hesitated, and reflected."Come," said he to himself, "be a man.I am accustomed to adversity.Imust not be cast down by the discovery that I have been deceived.What, then, would be the use of all I have suffered? The heart breaks when, after having been elated by flattering hopes, it sees all its illusions destroyed.Faria has dreamed this; the Cardinal Spada buried no treasure here; perhaps he never came here, or if he did, Caesar Borgia, the intrepid adventurer, the stealthy and indefatigable plunderer, has followed him, discovered his traces, pursued them as I have done, raised the stone, and descending before me, has left me nothing." He remained motionless and pensive, his eyes fixed on the gloomy aperture that was open at his feet.
"Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer entertain the slightest hopes, the end of this adventure becomes simply a matter of curiosity." And he remained again motionless and thoughtful.
"Yes, yes; this is an adventure worthy a place in the varied career of that royal bandit.This fabulous event formed but a link in a long chain of marvels.Yes, Borgia has been here, a torch in one band, a sword in the other, and within twenty paces, at the foot of this rock, perhaps two guards kept watch on land and sea, while their master descended, as I am about to descend, dispelling the darkness before his awe-inspiring progress.""But what was the fate of the guards who thus possessed his secret?" asked Dantes of himself.
"The fate," replied he, smiling, "of those who buried Alaric.""Yet, had he come," thought Dantes, "he would have found the treasure, and Borgia, he who compared Italy to an artichoke, which he could devour leaf by leaf, knew too well the value of time to waste it in replacing this rock.I will go down."Then he descended, a smile on his lips, and murmuring that last word of human philosophy, "Perhaps!" But instead of the darkness, and the thick and mephitic atmosphere he had expected to find, Dantes saw a dim and bluish light, which, as well as the air, entered, not merely by the aperture he had just formed, but by the interstices and crevices of the rock which were visible from without, and through which he could distinguish the blue sky and the waving branches of the evergreen oaks, and the tendrils of the creepers that grew from the rocks.After having stood a few minutes in the cavern, the atmosphere of which was rather warm than damp, Dantes' eye, habituated as it was to darkness, could pierce even to the remotest angles of the cavern, which was of granite that sparkled like diamonds."Alas," said Edmond, smiling, "these are the treasures the cardinal has left; and the good abbe, seeing in a dream these glittering walls, has indulged in fallacious hopes."But he called to mind the words of the will, which he knew by heart."In the farthest angle of the second opening,"said the cardinal's will.He had only found the first grotto; he had now to seek the second.Dantes continued his search.He reflected that this second grotto must penetrate deeper into the island; he examined the stones, and sounded one part of the wall where he fancied the opening existed, masked for precaution's sake.The pickaxe struck for a moment with a dull sound that drew out of Dantes' forehead large drops of perspiration.At last it seemed to him that one part of the wall gave forth a more hollow and deeper echo; he eagerly advanced, and with the quickness of perception that no one but a prisoner possesses, saw that there, in all probability, the opening must be.
However, he, like Caesar Borgia, knew the value of time;and, in order to avoid fruitless toil, he sounded all the other walls with his pickaxe, struck the earth with the butt of his gun, and finding nothing that appeared suspicious, returned to that part of the wall whence issued the consoling sound he had before heard.He again struck it, and with greater force.Then a singular thing occurred.As he struck the wall, pieces of stucco similar to that used in the ground work of arabesques broke off, and fell to the ground in flakes, exposing a large white stone.The aperture of the rock had been closed with stones, then this stucco had been applied, and painted to imitate granite.Dantes struck with the sharp end of his pickaxe, which entered someway between the interstices.It was there he must dig.
But by some strange play of emotion, in proportion as the proofs that Faria, had not been deceived became stronger, so did his heart give way, and a feeling of discouragement stole over him.This last proof, instead of giving him fresh strength, deprived him of it; the pickaxe descended, or rather fell; he placed it on the ground, passed his hand over his brow, and remounted the stairs, alleging to himself, as an excuse, a desire to be assured that no one was watching him, but in reality because he felt that he was about to faint.The island was deserted, and the sun seemed to cover it with its fiery glance; afar off, a few small fishing boats studded the bosom of the blue ocean.
