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It is that once employed by Giotto in the cathedral of Florence, and torn down by the proveditore, Benedetto Uguccione, to erect a Renaissance front instead; and another such has been destroyed, not long since, in Venice, the porch of the church of St.
After Benedetto had eaten a hearty supper, he inquired if he could get a room on the ground floor, but was forced to accept one on the first story, as the other had been taken by a young man who had just arrived with his sister. The hunted culprit was so tired out by his exertions that he fell into a deep sleep, and did not wake up early next morning, as he had intended, but at nine o'clock.
Benedetto left a little group of people at the corner of Via di Porta Angelica, and turned, alone, into Bernini's colonnade, his steps directed towards the bronze portal. He paused to listen to the roar of the fountains, to gaze at the clustered lights of the four candelabra round the obelisk, and tremulous, opaque against the moon's face the mighty jet of the fountain on the left.
This monument was so magnificently built, that it exceeded that of Henry the Seventh, in Westminster Abbey; and at the time of the cardinal's disgrace, the tomb was so far executed, that Benedetto, a statuary of Florence, received 4,250 ducats for what he had already done; and 380l. 18s. had been paid for gilding only half of this monument.
Several of the bandits fell, pierced by the balls, and Benedetto, with a loud oath, leaped at the Count's throat, brandishing a long, keen-bladed dagger above his head.
"Well, he rescued his millions anyway," replied Beauchamp, indifferently, "Though, come to think of it," he continued maliciously, "it is quite natural for Debray to interest himself in Benedetto the latter was half and half his son-in-law." "Oh, Beauchamp, you are cynical; the relationship reminds one of a morganatic marriage," Chateau-Renaud laughingly interposed.
As the clock in his library struck the quarter before midnight, Monte-Cristo arose from the chair in which he had been sitting; donning his fez and a light cloak, he prepared to go to the almond grove on the eastern portion of the island, the spot Benedetto had appointed for their meeting; prior to setting out he slipped into his pocket a well-filled purse, and thrust a loaded revolver into the belt he wore about his waist.
Benedetto knew his secret, and now, as if all this were not enough, Jane herself had vanished. It was more than human energy could support. While Sanselme stood on the bridge absorbed in these wretched thoughts, he heard a quick, running step. His well-trained ear could not be deceived. It was a woman's step if it were she? He started forward.
Shame upon you, parricide." This time Benedetto opened his eyes in terror, and in a faint voice murmured: "My mother! Yes, yes. Mercy!" Monte-Cristo rose. His gaze met that of Bertuccio, in which he read a silent question. "Are you still going to be charitable?" asked Bertuccio's eye. "The wretch has murdered the mother who bore him? Does he deserve mercy?"
Di Leyni, whose devotion to Benedetto was boundless, had never credited the scandalous rumours which had been spread concerning him; he had repulsed them with passionate indignation. He would not admit that his master could harbour either a guilty or an ideal love. In asking that question, he could have had no idea that a relation of a shameful nature had existed between Jeanne and Benedetto.
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