Respawned as The Count of Glow-Up Chapter 69: The Story: I

"First," Caderousse said, his voice trembling with nervous energy, "you have to promise sothing."

"What’s that?" the priest asked, leaning forward slightly.

"If you ever use the information I’m about to give you, swear you’ll never tell anyone it ca from . The people I’m going to talk about, they’re rich and powerful. If they so much as touched with one finger, I’d shatter like glass."

The priest’s expression softened with understanding. "Put your mind at ease, my friend. I’m a man of God, and confessions die with . Rember, my only goal is to honor the final wishes of our departed friend. Speak freely, without holding back and without hatred. Tell the complete truth. I don’t know these people you’re about to ntion, and I never will. Besides, I’m not even from this country, and I belong to God, not to any earthly master. Soon I’ll return to my monastery, which I only left to fulfill a dying man’s last request."

This firm assurance seed to give Caderousse a bit of courage.

"Well then," Caderousse said, straightening up slightly, "under those circumstances, I will, no, I believe I must, open your eyes about the so-called friendship that poor Edmond believed was so genuine and unshakeable."

"Start with his father, if you would," the priest said. "Edmond spoke to often about the old man, whom he loved deeply."

"It’s a heartbreaking story," Caderousse said, shaking his head sadly. "Perhaps you already know the beginning?"

"Yes," the priest replied. "Edmond told everything up until the mont he was arrested at that small tavern near the port."

"At La Réserve! Oh yes, I can picture it all as if it happened yesterday."

"Wasn’t that his engagent party?"

"It was. And what started as such a joyful celebration ended in absolute tragedy. A police commissioner walked in, followed by four soldiers, and they arrested Dantès on the spot."

"Yes, I know all of that," the priest said. "But Dantès only knew what happened to him personally. He never saw those five people again, never heard another word about any of them."

"Well, when they arrested Dantès, his employer Monsieur Morrel rushed to find out what had happened. The details were devastating. The old man returned ho alone, carefully folded up his wedding clothes with tears streaming down his face, and paced back and forth in his room all day. He wouldn’t even go to bed. I lived in the apartnt below him, and I heard his footsteps above all night long. I couldn’t sleep either, the poor father’s grief kept awake, and every step he took felt like it was crushing my own heart.

"The next day, rcédès went to beg for protection from the prosecutor, Monsieur de Villefort. She didn’t get it, though, so she visited the old man instead. When she saw how miserable and heartbroken he was, having not slept or eaten since the day before, she begged him to co stay with her so she could take care of him. But the old man refused.

"’No,’ he said, ’I won’t leave this house. My poor dear boy loves more than anything in the world. When he gets out of prison, he’ll co to see first thing. What would he think if I wasn’t here waiting for him?’ I heard all this from my window, because I was hoping rcédès could convince the old man to go with her. His constant pacing overhead, day and night, was driving to exhaustion."

"But didn’t you go upstairs to try and comfort the poor old man?" the priest asked.

"Ah, sir," Caderousse replied, "you can’t console soone who refuses to be consoled, and he was one of those people. Besides, for so reason, he seed to dislike seeing . One night, though, I heard him sobbing, and I couldn’t resist going up to him. But when I reached his door, he wasn’t crying anymore, he was praying. I can’t repeat all the eloquent, pleading words he used.

It was more than simple faith, more than grief. And I, who am no religious fanatic and actually dislike overly pious people, said to myself, ’This is truly beautiful, and I’m glad I don’t have children. If I were a father and felt such overwhelming grief as this old man does, and couldn’t find in my mory or heart all the words he’s saying now, I’d throw myself into the sea imdiately, because I couldn’t bear it.’"

"Poor father!" the priest murmured.

"Day by day, he lived alone, becoming more and more isolated. Monsieur Morrel and rcédès ca to see him, but his door stayed closed. Even though I was certain he was ho, he wouldn’t answer. One day, when he unusually let rcédès in, and the poor girl, despite her own grief and despair, tried to console him, he said to her, ’Be assured, my dear daughter, he is dead. Instead of expecting him to return, it is he who is waiting for us. I’m quite happy about this, because I’m the oldest and will naturally see him first.’

"You know how it is, no matter how well-intentioned people are, they eventually stop visiting those who are grieving. Sadness is contagious. So finally, old Dantès was left completely alone. I only saw strangers going up to visit him occasionally, coming back down with bundles they tried to hide. But I guessed what those bundles were, he was gradually selling his possessions to buy food.

"Eventually, the poor old man had sold everything he owned. He owed three months’ rent, and his landlord threatened to evict him. He begged for one more week, which was granted. I know this because the landlord ca to my apartnt after leaving his. For the first three days, I heard him walking around as usual, but on the fourth day, I heard nothing. I decided I had to check on him, whatever the risk.

"The door was locked, but I looked through the keyhole and saw him looking so pale and gaunt that I thought he must be seriously ill. I ran to tell Monsieur Morrel, then rushed to get rcédès. They both ca imdiately, Monsieur Morrel bringing a doctor. The doctor said it was severe stomach inflammation and put him on a restricted diet. I was there, too, and I’ll never forget the old man’s smile at that prescription. From that mont on, he received all visitors, he had an excuse not to eat anymore, since the doctor had put him on a diet."

The priest let out a sound like a groan. "This story troubles you greatly, doesn’t it, sir?" Caderousse asked.

"Yes," the priest replied, "it’s deeply moving."

"rcédès ca again and found him so changed that she beca even more determined to take him to her own ho. This was also Monsieur Morrel’s wish, he would have taken the old man by force if necessary. But the old man resisted and cried so pitifully that they were actually frightened.

So rcédès stayed by his bedside, and Monsieur Morrel left, signaling to her that he had left his money purse on the mantelpiece. But following the doctor’s orders, the old man refused to take any food. Finally, after nine days of despair and fasting, the old man died. He cursed those who had caused his misery, and said to rcédès, ’If you ever see my Edmond again, tell him I died blessing him.’"