Island of Elba; if he is really charged with a letter for the Bonapartist committee at Paris, and if they find this letter upon him, those who have supported him will pass for his accomplices.’ I confess I had my fears, in the state in which politics then were, and I held my tongue. It was cowardly, I confess, but it was not criminal.”
“I understand—you allowed matters to take their course, that was all.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Caderousse; “and remorse preys on me night and day. I often ask pardon of God, I swear to you, because this action, the only one with which I have seriously to reproach myself in all my life, is no doubt the cause of my abject condition. I am expiating a moment of selfishness, and so I always say to La Carconte, when she complains, ‘Hold your tongue, woman; it is the will of God.’ ” And Caderousse bowed his head with every sign of real repentance.
“Well, sir,” said the abbé, “you have spoken unreservedly; and thus to accuse yourself is to deserve pardon.”
“Unfortunately, Edmond is dead, and has not pardoned me.”
“He did not know,” said the abbé.
“But he knows it all now,” interrupted Caderousse; “they say the dead know everything.”
There was a brief silence; the abbé rose and paced up and down pensively, and then resumed his seat.
“You have two or three times mentioned a M. Morrel,” he said; “who was he?”
“The owner of the Pharaon and patron of Dantès.”
“And what part did he play in this sad drama?” inquired the abbé.