Chapter 46: The Treasure Map: I
When Dantès returned to his cellmate’s chamber the next morning, he found Faria sitting calmly by the narrow window. Sunlight streamed through the bars, illuminating a rolled-up piece of paper in the old man’s left hand, the only hand he could still use after his recent stroke.
Faria didn’t speak. He simply held up the paper, watching Dantès with knowing eyes.
"What’s that?" Dantès asked, curiosity overcoming his caution.
"Take a look," Faria replied with a mysterious smile.
Dantès examined the document carefully. "It’s just a half-burned piece of paper with some old writing on it. The ink looks strange, and I can barely make out the letters."
"This paper, my friend," Faria said, his voice growing serious, "is my treasure. And from today forward, half of it belongs to you."
Dantès felt sweat break out on his forehead. For months, he’d avoided talking about the supposed treasure that had gotten Faria labeled as insane. Everyone in the prison thought the old man had lost his mind, obsessing over imaginary riches. Dantès had hoped his friend had finally let go of these delusions.
"Your... treasure?" Dantès stammered.
Faria’s smile widened. "Yes. You have a good heart, Edmond. I can see the concern in your eyes, you think I’ve relapsed into madness. But I’m not crazy. This treasure is real, and if I can’t claim it, then you will. No one else would listen to me because they all thought I was insane. But you know better."
Dantès felt his heart sink. Just when he thought his friend was getting better, the delusions had returned with full force.
"My dear friend," Dantès said gently, "maybe you should rest. Your recent attack has weakened you. We can talk about this tomorrow if you want. Besides," he added carefully, "a treasure isn’t something we need to rush about."
"On the contrary!" Faria’s eyes blazed with urgency. "This is the most important thing, Edmond! What if I have another stroke tomorrow, or the day after? What if the third one kills me? These riches could make a dozen families wealthy beyond their wildest dreams. For years, I took bitter satisfaction knowing that the men who persecuted me would never find this fortune. But now..." His voice softened. "Now I’ve forgiven the world because of you. You’re young, with your whole life ahead of you. The thought of you possessing such wealth fills me with hope, not vengeance."
Dantès turned away with a sigh. The old man was getting worse.
"You still don’t believe me," Faria continued. "I can see it in your face. Very well, read this paper. I’ve never shown it to anyone else."
"Tomorrow," Dantès said, trying not to upset him further. "Didn’t we agree to wait until tomorrow?"
"Fine. We won’t discuss it until tomorrow. But read the paper today."
’I won’t make this worse by arguing,’ Dantès thought. He took the damaged document, noting that nearly half of it had been burned away. The remaining text was fragmented and barely legible:
This treasure, which may amount to two...
of Roman crowns in the most distant a...
of the second opening wh...
declare to belong to him alo...
heir.
25th April, 149’
"Well?" Faria asked eagerly.
"I see nothing but broken sentences and disconnected words," Dantès replied. "The fire has made most of it unreadable."
"To you, perhaps, since you’re seeing it for the first time. But I’ve spent countless nights studying every mark, reconstructing each phrase, completing every thought."
"And you think you’ve figured out the hidden meaning?"
"I know I have. But first, let me tell you the story behind this document."
"Quiet!" Dantès hissed suddenly. "Someone’s coming. I have to go!"
Grateful for the excuse to escape another bout of his friend’s fantasies, Dantès slipped through the narrow passage like a shadow. Behind him, Faria quickly pushed the stone back into place and covered it with a mat.
It was the warden, who had heard about Faria’s illness from the guards and had come to check on him personally. Faria sat up straight, carefully hiding his paralyzed side. The last thing he wanted was to be moved to the medical wing, away from his young companion.
Fortunately, the warden left satisfied that the "poor madman", whom he secretly pitied, was only suffering from a minor ailment.
Meanwhile, Dantès sat on his bed with his head in his hands, trying to make sense of everything. Since they’d first met, Faria had been incredibly intelligent and rational about everything else. How could someone so brilliant and wise be completely delusional about this one thing? Was Faria deceiving himself about the treasure, or was the rest of the world wrong about Faria?
Dantès stayed in his cell all day, afraid to return to his friend. He dreaded the moment when he’d have to face the truth, that the man he’d come to love like a father had truly lost his mind.
But as evening approached and Faria’s usual visit time passed, Dantès heard painful scraping sounds from the passage. The old man was trying to drag himself through the tunnel with his one good arm and leg. Dantès couldn’t bear to listen to his struggle, so he went to help him into the chamber.
"Here I am, chasing after you relentlessly," Faria said with a gentle smile. "You thought you could escape my generosity, but it’s useless to try. Now, listen to me."
Seeing no way out, Dantès helped the old man onto the bed and sat beside him on a stool.
Dantès stayed in his cell all day, afraid to return to his friend. He dreaded the moment when he’d have to face the truth, that the man he’d come to love like a father had truly lost his mind. The silence of the damp walls pressed upon him, broken only by the drip of unseen water, and every echo seemed to mock his fear. He paced, sat, stood again, unable to quiet the storm of worry in his chest.
But as evening approached and Faria’s usual visit time passed, Dantès heard painful scraping sounds from the passage. The old man was trying to drag himself through the tunnel with his one good arm and leg. Each movement seemed to rasp against stone, slow and agonizing, and Dantès felt his throat tighten. He couldn’t bear to listen to his friend’s struggle, couldn’t endure the thought of him exhausting what little strength he still possessed, so he rushed to help him into the chamber.
"Here I am, chasing after you relentlessly," Faria said with a gentle smile, his face pale with fatigue yet lit by unwavering determination. "You thought you could escape my generosity, but it’s useless to try. Now, listen to me."
Seeing no way out, Dantès helped the old man onto the bed, arranging the thin blanket with unusual care, and sat beside him on a stool, his heart torn between fear and devotion.