The Treasure.

           WhenDantesreturnednextmorningtothechamberofhiscompanionincaptivity,hefoundFariaseatedandlookingcomposed.Intherayoflightwhichenteredbythenarrowwindowofhiscell,heheldopeninhislefthand,ofwhichalone,itwillberecollected,heretainedtheuse,asheetofpaper,which,frombeingconstantlyrolledintoasmallcompass,hadtheformofacylinder,andwasnoteasilykeptopen.Hedidnotspeak,butshowedthepapertoDantes.

           "Whatisthat?"heinquired.

           "Lookatit,"saidtheabbewithasmile.

           "Ihavelookedatitwithallpossibleattention,"saidDantes,"andIonlyseeahalf-burntpaper,onwhicharetracesofGothiccharactersinscribedwithapeculiarkindofink."

           "Thispaper,myfriend,"saidFaria,"Imaynowavowtoyou,sinceIhavetheproofofyourfidelitythispaperismytreasure,ofwhich,fromthisdayforth,one-halfbelongstoyou."

           ThesweatstartedforthonDantesbrow.Untilthisdayandforhowlongatime!hehadrefrainedfromtalkingofthetreasure,whichhadbroughtupontheabbetheaccusationofmadness.WithhisinstinctivedelicacyEdmondhadpreferredavoidinganytouchonthispainfulchord,andFariahadbeenequallysilent.Hehadtakenthesilenceoftheoldmanforareturntoreason;andnowthesefewwordsutteredbyFaria,aftersopainfulacrisis,seemedtoindicateaseriousrelapseintomentalalienation.

           "Yourtreasure?"stammeredDantes.Fariasmiled.

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