Chapter 62: The Secrets of the Cave: II
"Come on," he said to himself, "be strong. I’m used to disappointment by now. I can’t let myself be crushed if I discover I’ve been deceived. What would be the point of everything I’ve suffered? Hearts break when, after being lifted by hopeful dreams, they watch all their illusions crumble. Maybe Faria was just dreaming. Maybe Cardinal Spada never buried any treasure here. Maybe he never even came to this place. Or if he did, maybe some other treasure hunter got here first, followed the same clues I did, moved the same stone, and went down before me, leaving me nothing."
He remained motionless and lost in thought, staring at the dark opening at his feet.
"Now that I expect nothing, now that I no longer have the slightest hope, the end of this adventure is simply a matter of curiosity." And again he stood frozen, thinking.
"Yes, this would be exactly the kind of adventure worthy of a legendary treasure hunter. This incredible story would just be one link in a long chain of amazing tales. Yes, someone like that would have been here before me, torch in one hand, sword in the other. Maybe twenty paces away, at the foot of this very rock, guards kept watch on land and sea while their master descended, just as I’m about to do, pushing back the darkness before him."
"But what happened to the guards who shared his secret?" Edmond asked himself.
"The same fate," he replied with a grim smile, "as those who buried kings with their treasures."
"Still, if he had come," Edmond mused, "he would have found the treasure. And someone like that, someone who conquered territories piece by piece, knew the value of time too well to waste it replacing this boulder. I’m going down."
With that decision, he descended into the opening, a smile on his lips, murmuring that final word of human philosophy: "Maybe."
But instead of the darkness and thick, suffocating air he had expected, Edmond found himself in a chamber lit by dim, bluish light. Fresh air entered not only through the opening he had just created, but also through natural cracks and crevices in the rock walls. Through these gaps, he could see blue sky and the waving branches of evergreen trees, along with creeping vines that grew from the rocky surfaces.
After standing for a few minutes in the cavern, which felt more warm than damp, Edmond’s eyes, well-adapted to darkness from his years in prison, could penetrate even the farthest corners of the chamber. The walls were granite that sparkled like diamonds in the filtered light.
"Well," said Edmond with a bitter smile, "these glittering walls are the treasures the cardinal left behind. The good priest, seeing these shining surfaces in a dream, must have gotten his hopes up for nothing."
But then he remembered the exact words of the will, which he knew by heart, ’In the farthest corner of the second chamber,’ the cardinal’s instructions had said. He had only found the first chamber, now he had to find the second one.
Edmond continued his search, reasoning that this second chamber must go deeper into the island. He examined the stones carefully and tapped along one section of wall where he suspected an opening might exist, hidden for security purposes. When his pickaxe struck, it made a dull sound that drew beads of sweat from his forehead.
Finally, it seemed that one part of the wall produced a more hollow, deeper echo. He moved forward eagerly, and with the sharp perception that only comes from years of imprisonment, he knew that this was probably where the opening lay. His pulse quickened, each sound reverberating through his chest like a secret summons.
However, like any experienced treasure hunter, he understood the value of time and the danger of false hope. To avoid wasted effort, he tested all the other walls with his pickaxe and struck the ground with the butt of his rifle, pausing after each blow to listen with desperate attention. Finding nothing suspicious elsewhere, he returned to the section of wall that had produced the promising sound.
He struck it again, this time with greater force. Then something remarkable happened. As he hit the wall, pieces of plaster similar to decorative coating began to break off and fall to the ground in flakes, exposing large white stones underneath. The opening in the rock had been sealed with stones, then covered with plaster and painted to look like natural granite, a deception so perfect that only chance and persistence could have revealed it.
Edmond struck with the sharp end of his pickaxe, which penetrated partway between the joints. This was where he needed to dig. But by some strange twist of emotion, as the evidence grew stronger that Faria had not been deceived, Edmond’s heart began to fail him. Discouragement crept in like a shadow, whispering doubts and fears.
This final proof, instead of giving him fresh strength, seemed to drain it away. His pickaxe dropped from his hands with a dull thud. He set it carefully on the ground, wiped his sweat-drenched forehead, and climbed back up the stairs, his thoughts heavy and disordered.
He told himself he wanted to make sure no one was watching him, but the real reason was that he felt like he was about to faint. The island was still deserted, and the sun seemed to set it ablaze with its fiery glare. In the distance, a few small fishing boats dotted the blue ocean.
Edmond hadn’t eaten anything all day, but he wasn’t thinking about hunger at a moment like this. He quickly swallowed a few drops of rum and re-entered the cavern. The pickaxe that had felt so heavy now seemed light as a feather in his grip. He seized it and attacked the wall with renewed vigor.
After several blows, he realized the stones weren’t cemented together but had simply been stacked on top of each other and covered with plaster. He wedged the point of his pickaxe into a gap and used the handle as a lever. With growing excitement, he watched as the stones turned like hinges and fell at his feet.