“And now, my dear friend,” said Faria, “sole consolation of my wretched existence⁠—you whom Heaven gave me somewhat late, but still gave me, a priceless gift, and for which I am most grateful⁠—at the moment of separating from you forever, I wish you all the happiness and all the prosperity you so well deserve. My son, I bless thee!”

The young man cast himself on his knees, leaning his head against the old man’s bed.

“Listen, now, to what I say in this my dying moment. The treasure of the Spadas exists. God grants me the boon of vision unrestricted by time or space. I see it in the depths of the inner cavern. My eyes pierce the inmost recesses of the earth, and are dazzled at the sight of so much riches. If you do escape, remember that the poor abbé, whom all the world called mad, was not so. Hasten to Monte Cristo⁠—avail yourself of the fortune⁠—for you have indeed suffered long enough.”