“And you think that to save such villains as you I will become an abettor of their plot, an accomplice in their crimes?”
“Reverend sir,” said Caderousse, drawing still nearer.
“I will expose all.”
“To whom?”
“To M. Danglars.”
“By Heaven!” cried Caderousse, drawing from his waistcoat an open knife, and striking the count in the breast, “you shall disclose nothing, reverend sir!”
To Caderousse’s great astonishment, the knife, instead of piercing the count’s breast, flew back blunted. At the same moment the count seized with his left hand the assassin’s wrist, and wrung it with such strength that the knife fell from his stiffened fingers, and Caderousse uttered a cry of pain. But the count, disregarding his cry, continued to wring the bandit’s wrist, until, his arm being dislocated, he fell first on his knees, then flat on the floor.
The count then placed his foot on his head, saying, “I know not what restrains me from crushing thy skull, rascal.”
“Ah, mercy—mercy!” cried Caderousse.
The count withdrew his foot.