CHAPTER XLIX
THE SPECTRE
Just as Benedetto had uttered the mocking words to the friends of Spero,the form of a man appeared in the doorway. He threw one horror-strickenlook at the bodies, a second one at the ex-convict, swung himself alsoon the window-sill, and plunged in after Benedetto. It was Anselmo.
The water was ice-cold, but neither of them paid any attention to it.Benedetto only thought of saving himself, and Anselmo of his revenge.Benedetto did not know he was being pursued. Who would risk his own lifeto follow him? No, it was madness to imagine so. But now he heard someone swimming behind him. If he could reach the bushes of Nemilly hewould be safe. He did not dare turn about--he felt frightened and histeeth chattered.
At length the long-looked-for bank was seen--a few more strokes and hewould be saved. Now--now he pressed upon the sand. Dripping, tremblingwith cold, he swung himself upon dry land and looked back at the darkwaters. He could see nothing: his pursuer had evidently given up theproject.
Anselmo had really lost courage. He had the greatest difficulty to keephimself afloat. Suddenly his almost paralyzed hand grasped a plank; heclambered on it, and reached the shore with its aid. He landed about onehundred feet away from Benedetto. Now he saw the hated wretch. But wasit a vision, a play of his excited fancy? It seemed to him as ifBenedetto were hurrying toward the water again! Behind him moved a whiteshadow; it seemed to be pursuing the scoundrel, and they were bothflying toward the shore.
Benedetto did not turn around. Did he fear to see the white form? Bothcame toward Anselmo. Benedetto looked neither to the right nor to theleft. Now his foot touched the water. Then came a soft, trembling voiceon the still night air:
"Benedetto--my son! Benedetto--wait for me!"
With a cry of terror, Benedetto turned around. There stood his motherwhom he had murdered. She pressed her hand to the breast her son's steelhad penetrated. Now she stretched out her long, bony fingers towardhim--she threw her lean arm around his neck, and he could not cry out.Slowly they both walked toward the river. They set foot on the darkspace--they sank deeper and deeper, and now--now the waves rushed overthem! Outraged nature was done penance to. The mother, whom Benedettohad stabbed in the breast, had drawn her son with her into a waterygrave.
* * * * *
The next morning fishermen found the body of an unknown man in thebushes--it was Anselmo. He had breathed his last as the sun just beganto rise--his last word was:
"Jane!"
The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II Page 50
