"I," said Monte-Cristo, earnestly.
"You, master? Yes, you are almighty, and if you like you are able to pull out of my bleeding wounds the painful darts which are tearing my heart. Pity me, count, and I am free!"
Monte-Cristo's look rested pitifully upon the unfortunate, and his voice sounded soft and mild when saying:
"Jacopo, only to save you I came here."
"I feel it, I know it; oh, how kind you are!"
"Jacopo, when man is carried away by his passions and has done evil—what you have done was bad, because you did not possess the right to judge Manuelita, and you feel it by your remorse—then there is only one remedy, to atone for the sin—"
"Oh, mention the remedy, master! It is singular, but since I have looked into your eyes and heard your voice, I have the feeling that the bloody fog which darkened my eyes had disappeared. I breathe again more freely, and my head is clear as it was previously, when I passed days on the ocean and saw nothing above me but heaven and sun. Master, tell me, what am I to do?"
"So much good, that the evil may disappear before it."
"Alas, if I could do that! I have killed, and I am lacking the power to raise the dead."
"And if you could nevertheless atone for your crime?"