"Don't make yourself so green. From what I know of the world, this woman, who intends to give the money to the Church, will not offer it to you. You will take it from her, and if she resists—" He finished the sentence with a suggestive gesture.
Benedetto became pale as death. He bit his lips and in a hollow voice replied:
"What is necessary will occur."
"Good. I am pleased with you; but look—there comes a lady on our pontoon. Perhaps that is your millionnairess."
Benedetto looked in the direction indicated. A lady, leaning on the arm of a gentleman and accompanied by several high officials, was coming toward him.
The Corsican gave vent to an oath and made a movement as if he intended to throw himself upon the party. "Redhead," said the jailer, letting his heavy stick fall on Benedetto's shoulders, "you are trying to fly away?" Benedetto gritted his teeth. He had recognized Valentine, and as she was a Villefort, and occupied the place he thought ought to have been his own, he would have liked to have wrung her neck. He recognized Morrel, whom he had seen in Monte-Cristo's house at Auteuil, and he, too, made his anger rise. He thought they had both come to gloat over his shame. The head officer whispered a few words to the jailer, and immediately afterward Benedetto and Anselmo were ushered into the presence of the visitors.
"They take me along too because they can't help it," said Anselmo wickedly, pointing to the chain which bound them.
The jailer nodded, and the ex-priest whispered in Benedetto's ear:
"Commit no follies. You look as if you would like to poison every one."