es mechants sont beuveurs d'eau; C'est bien prouve par le
deluge.' [*]

* "The wicked are great drinkers of water; As the flood
proved once for all."

"You said, sir, you would like to help me, but"--

"Yes; but I added, to help you it would be sufficient that Dantes
did not marry her you love; and the marriage may easily be thwarted,
methinks, and yet Dantes need not die."

"Death alone can separate them," remarked Fernand.

"You talk like a noodle, my friend," said Caderousse; "and here is
Danglars, who is a wide-awake, clever, deep fellow, who will prove to
you that you are wrong. Prove it, Danglars. I have answered for you. Say
there is no need why Dantes should die; it would, indeed, be a pity he
should. Dantes is a good fellow; I like Dantes. Dantes, your health."

Fernand rose impatiently. "Let him run on," said Danglars, restraining
the young man; "drunk as he is, he is not much out in what he says.
Absence severs as well as death, and if the walls of a prison were
between Edmond and Mercedes they would be as effectually separated as if
he lay under a tombstone."

"Yes; but one gets out of prison," said Caderousse, who, with what sense
was left him, listened eagerly to the conversation, "and when one gets
out and one's name is Edmond Dantes, one seeks revenge"--

"What matters that?" muttered Fernand.

"And why, I should like to know," persisted Caderousse, "should they put
Dantes in prison? he has not robbed or killed or murdered."

"Hold your tongue!" said Danglars.

"I won't hold my tongue!" replied Caderousse; "I say I want to know why
they should put Dantes in prison; I like Dantes; Dantes, your health!"
and he swallowed another glass of wine.

Danglars saw in the muddled look of the tailor the progress of his
intoxication, and turning towards Fernand, said, "Well, you understand
there is no need to kill him."

"Certainly not, if, as you said just now, you have the means of having
Dantes arrested. Have you that means?"

"It is to be found for the searching. But why should I meddle in the
matter? it is no affair of mine."

"I know not why you meddle," said Fernand, seizing his arm; "but this I
know, you have some motive of personal hatred against Dantes, for he who
himself hates is never mistaken in the sentiments of others."

"I!--motives of hatred against Dantes? None, on my word! I saw you were
unhappy, and your unhappiness interested me; that's all; but since you
believe I a