The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas
#2 in our series by Alexandre Dumas [Pere]
Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check
the copyright laws for your country before posting these files!!
Please take a look at the important information in this header.
We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an
electronic path open for the next readers. Do not remove this.
**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**
**Etexts Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**
*These Etexts Prepared By Hundreds of Volunteers and Donations*
Information on contacting Project Gutenberg to get Etexts, and
further information is included below. We need your donations.
The Count of Monte Cristo
by Alexandre Dumas [Pere]
January, 1998 [Etext #1184]
The Project Gutenberg Etext of The Count of Monte Cristo by Dumas
*******This file should be named crsto10.txt or crsto10.zip******
Corrected EDITIONS of our etexts get a new NUMBER, crsto11.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, crsto10a.txt
Project Gutenberg Etexts are usually created from multiple editions,
all of which are in the Public Domain in the United States, unless a
copyright notice is included. Therefore, we do NOT keep these books
in compliance with any particular paper edition, usually otherwise.
We are now trying to release all our books one month in advance
of the official release dates, for time for better editing.
Please note: neither this list nor its contents are final till
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg Etexts is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month. A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so. To be sure you have an
up to date first edition [xxxxx10x.xxx] please check file sizes
in the first week of the next month. Since our ftp program has
a bug in it that scrambles the date [tried to fix and failed] a
look at the file size will have to do, but we will try to see a
new copy has at least one byte more or less.
Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)
We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work. The
fifty hours is one conservative estimate for how long it we take
to get any etext selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc. This
projected audience is one hundred million readers. If our value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour this year as we release thirty-two text
files per month, or 384 more Etexts in 1998 for a total of 1500+
If these reach just 10total should reach over 150 billion Etexts given away.
The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away One Trillion Etext
Files by the December 31, 2001. [10,000 x 100,000,000=Trillion]
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only 10should have at least twice as many computer users as that, so it
will require us reaching less than 5
We need your donations more than ever!
All donations should be made to ``Project Gutenberg/CMU'': and are
tax deductible to the extent allowable by law. (CMU = Carnegie-
Mellon University).
For these and other matters, please mail to:
Project Gutenberg
P. O. Box 2782
Champaign, IL 61825
When all other email fails try our Executive Director:
Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>
We would prefer to send you this information by email
(Internet, Bitnet, Compuserve, ATTMAIL or MCImail).
******
If you have an FTP program (or emulator), please
FTP directly to the Project Gutenberg archives:
[Mac users, do NOT point and click. . .type]
ftp uiarchive.cso.uiuc.edu
login: anonymous
password: your@login
cd etext/etext90 through /etext96
or cd etext/articles [get suggest gut for more information]
dir [to see files]
get or mget [to get files. . .set bin for zip files]
GET INDEX?00.GUT
for a list of books
and
GET NEW GUT for general information
and
MGET GUT* for newsletters.
**Information prepared by the Project Gutenberg legal advisor**
(Three Pages)
***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS**START***
Why is this ``Small Print!'' statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this etext, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this ``Small Print!'' statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you can distribute copies of this etext if you want to.
*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS ETEXT
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
etext, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this ``Small Print!'' statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this etext by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this etext on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.
ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM ETEXTS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-
tm etexts, is a ``public domain'' work distributed by Professor
Michael S. Hart through the Project Gutenberg Association at
Carnegie-Mellon University (the ``Project''). Among other
things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this etext
under the Project's ``PROJECT GUTENBERG'' trademark.
To create these etexts, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's etexts and any
medium they may be on may contain ``Defects''. Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other etext medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.
LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the ``Right of Replacement or Refund'' described below,
[1] the Project (and any other party you may receive this
etext from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm etext) disclaims all
liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.
If you discover a Defect in this etext within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.
THIS ETEXT IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU ``AS-IS''. NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE ETEXT OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.
Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.
INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold the Project, its directors,
officers, members and agents harmless from all liability, cost
and expense, including legal fees, that arise directly or
indirectly from any of the following that you do or cause:
[1] distribution of this etext, [2] alteration, modification,
or addition to the etext, or [3] any Defect.
DISTRIBUTION UNDER ``PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm''
You may distribute copies of this etext electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
``Small Print!'' and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:
[1] Only give exact copies of it. Among other things, this
requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
etext or this ``small print!'' statement. You may however,
if you wish, distribute this etext in machine readable
binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
including any form resulting from conversion by word pro-
cessing or hypertext software, but only so long as
*EITHER*:
[*] The etext, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
does *not* contain characters other than those
intended by the author of the work, although tilde
(~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
be used to convey punctuation intended by the
author, and additional characters may be used to
indicate hypertext links; OR
[*] The etext may be readily converted by the reader at
no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
form by the program that displays the etext (as is
the case, for instance, with most word processors);
OR
[*] You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
etext in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
or other equivalent proprietary form).
[2] Honour the etext refund and replacement provisions of this
``Small Print!'' statement.
[3] Pay a trademark license fee to the Project of 20 net profits you derive calculated using the method you
already use to calculate your applicable taxes. If you
don't derive profits, no royalty is due. Royalties are
payable to ``Project Gutenberg Association/Carnegie-Mellon
University'' within the 60 days following each
date you prepare (or were legally required to prepare)
your annual (or equivalent periodic) tax return.
WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
The Project gratefully accepts contributions in money, time,
scanning machines, OCR software, public domain etexts, royalty
free copyright licenses, and every other sort of contribution
you can think of. Money should be paid to ``Project Gutenberg
Association / Carnegie-Mellon University''.
*END*THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN ETEXTS*Ver.04.29.93*END*
On the 24th of February, 1810, the look-out at Notre-Dame de
la Garde signalled the three-master, the Pharaon from
Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples.
As usual, a pilot put off immediately, and rounding the
Chateau d'If, got on board the vessel between Cape Morgion
and Rion island.
Immediately, and according to custom, the ramparts of Fort
Saint-Jean were covered with spectators; it is always an
event at Marseilles for a ship to come into port, especially
when this ship, like the Pharaon, has been built, rigged,
and laden at the old Phocee docks, and belongs to an owner
of the city.
The ship drew on and had safely passed the strait, which
some volcanic shock has made between the Calasareigne and
Jaros islands; had doubled Pomegue, and approached the
harbour under topsails, jib, and spanker, but so slowly and
sedately that the idlers, with that instinct which is the
forerunner of evil, asked one another what misfortune could
have happened on board. However, those experienced in
navigation saw plainly that if any accident had occurred, it
was not to the vessel herself, for she bore down with all
the evidence of being skilfully handled, the anchor
a-cockbill, the jib-boom guys already eased off, and
standing by the side of the pilot, who was steering the
Pharaon towards the narrow entrance of the inner port, was a
young man, who, with activity and vigilant eye, watched
every motion of the ship, and repeated each direction of the
pilot.
The vague disquietude which prevailed among the spectators
had so much affected one of the crowd that he did not await
the arrival of the vessel in harbour, but jumping into a
small skiff, desired to be pulled alongside the Pharaon,
which he reached as she rounded into La Reserve basin.
When the young man on board saw this person approach, he
left his station by the pilot, and, hat in hand, leaned over
the ship's bulwarks.
He was a fine, tall, slim young fellow of eighteen or
twenty, with black eyes, and hair as dark as a raven's wing;
and his whole appearance bespoke that calmness and
resolution peculiar to men accustomed from their cradle to
contend with danger.
``Ah, is it you, Dantes?'' cried the man in the skiff. ``What's
the matter? and why have you such an air of sadness aboard?''
``A great misfortune, M. Morrel,'' replied the young man, -
``a great misfortune, for me especially! Off Civita Vecchia
we lost our brave Captain Leclere.''
``And the cargo?'' inquired the owner, eagerly.
``Is all safe, M. Morrel; and I think you will be satisfied
on that head. But poor Captain Leclere - ''
``What happened to him?'' asked the owner, with an air of
considerable resignation. ``What happened to the worthy
captain?''
``He died.''
``Fell into the sea?''
``No, sir, he died of brain-fever in dreadful agony.'' Then
turning to the crew, he said, ``Bear a hand there, to take in
sail!''
All hands obeyed, and at once the eight or ten seamen who
composed the crew, sprang to their respective stations at
the spanker brails and outhaul, topsail sheets and halyards,
the jib downhaul, and the topsail clewlines and buntlines.
The young sailor gave a look to see that his orders were
promptly and accurately obeyed, and then turned again to the
owner.
``And how did this misfortune occur?'' inquired the latter,
resuming the interrupted conversation.
``Alas, sir, in the most unexpected manner. After a long talk
with the harbour-master, Captain Leclere left Naples greatly
disturbed in mind. In twenty-four hours he was attacked by a
fever, and died three days afterwards. We performed the
usual burial service, and he is at his rest, sewn up in his
hammock with a thirty-six pound shot at his head and his
heels, off El Giglio island. We bring to his widow his sword
and cross of honour. It was worth while, truly,'' added the
young man with a melancholy smile, ``to make war against the
English for ten years, and to die in his bed at last, like
everybody else.''
``Why, you see, Edmond,'' replied the owner, who appeared more
comforted at every moment, ``we are all mortal, and the old
must make way for the young. If not, why, there would be no
promotion; and since you assure me that the cargo - ''
``Is all safe and sound, M. Morrel, take my word for it; and
I advise you not to take 25,000 francs for the profits of
the voyage.''
Then, as they were just passing the Round Tower, the young
man shouted: ``Stand by there to lower the topsails and jib;
brail up the spanker!''
The order was executed as promptly as it would have been on
board a man-of-war.
``Let go - and clue up!'' At this last command all the sails
were lowered, and the vessel moved almost imperceptibly
onwards.
``Now, if you will come on board, M. Morrel,'' said Dantes,
observing the owner's impatience, ``here is your supercargo,
M. Danglars, coming out of his cabin, who will furnish you
with every particular. As for me, I must look after the
anchoring, and dress the ship in mourning.''
The owner did not wait for a second invitation. He seized a
rope which Dantes flung to him, and with an activity that
would have done credit to a sailor, climbed up the side of
the ship, while the young man, going to his task, left the
conversation to Danglars, who now came towards the owner. He
was a man of twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, of
unprepossessing countenance, obsequious to his superiors,
insolent to his subordinates; and this, in addition to his
position as responsible agent on board, which is always
obnoxious to the sailors, made him as much disliked by the
crew as Edmond Dantes was beloved by them.
``Well, M. Morrel,'' said Danglars, ``you have heard of the
misfortune that has befallen us?''
``Yes - yes: poor Captain Leclere! He was a brave and an
honest man.''
``And a first-rate seaman, one who had seen long and
honourable service, as became a man charged with the
interests of a house so important as that of Morrel & Son,''
replied Danglars.
``But,'' replied the owner, glancing after Dantes, who was
watching the anchoring of his vessel, ``it seems to me that a
sailor needs not be so old as you say, Danglars, to
understand his business, for our friend Edmond seems to
understand it thoroughly, and not to require instruction
from any one.''
``Yes,'' said Danglars, darting at Edmond a look gleaming with
hate. ``Yes, he is young, and youth is invariably
self-confident. Scarcely was the captain's breath out of his
body when he assumed the command without consulting any one,
and he caused us to lose a day and a half at the Island of
Elba, instead of making for Marseilles direct.''
``As to taking command of the vessel,'' replied Morrel, ``that
was his duty as captain's mate; as to losing a day and a
half off the Island of Elba, he was wrong, unless the vessel
needed repairs.''
``The vessel was in as good condition as I am, and as, I hope
you are, M. Morrel, and this day and a half was lost from
pure whim, for the pleasure of going ashore, and nothing
else.''
``Dantes,'' said the shipowner, turning towards the young man,
``come this way!''
``In a moment, sir,'' answered Dantes, ``and I'm with you.''
Then calling to the crew, he said - ``Let go!''
The anchor was instantly dropped, and the chain ran rattling
through the port-hole. Dantes continued at his post in spite
of the presence of the pilot, until this manoeuvre was
completed, and then he added, ``Half-mast the colours, and
square the yards!''
``You see,'' said Danglars, ``he fancies himself captain
already, upon my word.''
``And so, in fact, he is,'' said the owner.
``Except your signature and your partner's, M. Morrel.''
``And why should he not have this?'' asked the owner; ``he is
young, it is true, but he seems to me a thorough seaman, and
of full experience.''
A cloud passed over Danglars' brow. ``Your pardon, M.
Morrel,'' said Dantes, approaching, ``the vessel now rides at
anchor, and I am at your service. You hailed me, I think?''
Danglars retreated a step or two. ``I wished to inquire why
you stopped at the Island of Elba?''
``I do not know, sir; it was to fulfil the last instructions
of Captain Leclere, who, when dying, gave me a packet for
Marshal Bertrand.''
``Then did you see him, Edmond?''
``Who?''
``The marshal.''
``Yes.''
Morrel looked around him, and then, drawing Dantes on one
side, he said suddenly - ``And how is the emperor?''
``Very well, as far as I could judge from the sight of him.''
``You saw the emperor, then?''
``He entered the marshal's apartment while I was there.''
``And you spoke to him?''
``Why, it was he who spoke to me, sir,'' said Dantes, with a
smile.
``And what did he say to you?''
``Asked me questions about the vessel, the time she left
Marseilles, the course she had taken, and what was her
cargo. I believe, if she had not been laden, and I had been
her master, he would have bought her. But I told him I was
only mate, and that she belonged to the firm of Morrel &
Son. `Ah, yes,' he said, `I know them. The Morrels have been
shipowners from father to son; and there was a Morrel who
served in the same regiment with me when I was in garrison
at Valence.'''
``Pardieu, and that is true!'' cried the owner, greatly
delighted. ``And that was Policar Morrel, my uncle, who was
afterwards a captain. Dantes, you must tell my uncle that
the emperor remembered him, and you will see it will bring
tears into the old soldier's eyes. Come, come,'' continued
he, patting Edmond's shoulder kindly, ``you did very right,
Dantes, to follow Captain Leclere's instructions, and touch
at Elba, although if it were known that you had conveyed a
packet to the marshal, and had conversed with the emperor,
it might bring you into trouble.''
``How could that bring me into trouble, sir?'' asked Dantes;
``for I did not even know of what I was the bearer; and the
emperor merely made such inquiries as he would of the first
comer. But, pardon me, here are the health officers and the
customs inspectors coming alongside.'' And the young man went
to the gangway. As he departed, Danglars approached, and
said, -
``Well, it appears that he has given you satisfactory reasons
for his landing at Porto-Ferrajo?''
``Yes, most satisfactory, my dear Danglars.''
``Well, so much the better,'' said the supercargo; ``for it is
not pleasant to think that a comrade has not done his duty.''
``Dantes has done his,'' replied the owner, ``and that is not
saying much. It was Captain Leclere who gave orders for this
delay.''
``Talking of Captain Leclere, has not Dantes given you a
letter from him?''
``To me? - no - was there one?''
``I believe that, besides the packet, Captain Leclere
confided a letter to his care.''
``Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars?''
``Why, that which Dantes left at Porto-Ferrajo.''
``How do you know he had a packet to leave at Porto-Ferrajo?''
Danglars turned very red.
``I was passing close to the door of the captain's cabin,
which was half open, and I saw him give the packet and
letter to Dantes.''
``He did not speak to me of it,'' replied the shipowner; ``but
if there be any letter he will give it to me.''
Danglars reflected for a moment. ``Then, M. Morrel, I beg of
you,'' said he, ``not to say a word to Dantes on the subject.
I may have been mistaken.''
At this moment the young man returned; Danglars withdrew.
``Well, my dear Dantes, are you now free?'' inquired the
owner.
``Yes, sir.''
``You have not been long detained.''
``No. I gave the custom-house officers a copy of our bill of
lading; and as to the other papers, they sent a man off with
the pilot, to whom I gave them.''
``Then you have nothing more to do here?''
``No - everything is all right now.''
``Then you can come and dine with me?''
``I really must ask you to excuse me, M. Morrel. My first
visit is due to my father, though I am not the less grateful
for the honour you have done me.''
``Right, Dantes, quite right. I always knew you were a good
son.''
``And,'' inquired Dantes, with some hesitation, ``do you know
how my father is?''
``Well, I believe, my dear Edmond, though I have not seen him
lately.''
``Yes, he likes to keep himself shut up in his little room.''
``That proves, at least, that he has wanted for nothing
during your absence.''
Dantes smiled. ``My father is proud, sir, and if he had not a
meal left, I doubt if he would have asked anything from
anyone, except from Heaven.''
``Well, then, after this first visit has been made we shall
count on you.''
``I must again excuse myself, M. Morrel, for after this first
visit has been paid I have another which I am most anxious
to pay.''
``True, Dantes, I forgot that there was at the Catalans some
one who expects you no less impatiently than your father -
the lovely Mercedes.''
Dantes blushed.
``Ah, ha,'' said the shipowner, ``I am not in the least
surprised, for she has been to me three times, inquiring if
there were any news of the Pharaon. Peste, Edmond, you have
a very handsome mistress!''
``She is not my mistress,'' replied the young sailor, gravely;
``she is my betrothed.''
``Sometimes one and the same thing,'' said Morrel, with a
smile.
``Not with us, sir,'' replied Dantes.
``Well, well, my dear Edmond,'' continued the owner, ``don't
let me detain you. You have managed my affairs so well that
I ought to allow you all the time you require for your own.
Do you want any money?''
``No, sir; I have all my pay to take - nearly three months'
wages.''
``You are a careful fellow, Edmond.''
``Say I have a poor father, sir.''
``Yes, yes, I know how good a son you are, so now hasten away
to see your father. I have a son too, and I should be very
wroth with those who detained him from me after a three
months' voyage.''
``Then I have your leave, sir?''
``Yes, if you have nothing more to say to me.''
``Nothing.''
``Captain Leclere did not, before he died, give you a letter
for me?''
``He was unable to write, sir. But that reminds me that I
must ask your leave of absence for some days.''
``To get married?''
``Yes, first, and then to go to Paris.''
``Very good; have what time you require, Dantes. It will take
quite six weeks to unload the cargo, and we cannot get you
ready for sea until three months after that; only be back
again in three months, for the Pharaon,'' added the owner,
patting the young sailor on the back, ``cannot sail without
her captain.''
``Without her captain!'' cried Dantes, his eyes sparkling with
animation; ``pray mind what you say, for you are touching on
the most secret wishes of my heart. Is it really your
intention to make me captain of the Pharaon?''
``If I were sole owner we'd shake hands on it now, my dear
Dantes, and call it settled; but I have a partner, and you
know the Italian proverb - Chi ha compagno ha padrone -
`He who has a partner has a master.' But the thing is at
least half done, as you have one out of two votes. Rely on
me to procure you the other; I will do my best.''
``Ah, M. Morrel,'' exclaimed the young seaman, with tears in
his eyes, and grasping the owner's hand, ``M. Morrel, I thank
you in the name of my father and of Mercedes.''
``That's all right, Edmond. There's a providence that watches
over the deserving. Go to your father: go and see Mercedes,
and afterwards come to me.''
``Shall I row you ashore?''
``No, thank you; I shall remain and look over the accounts
with Danglars. Have you been satisfied with him this
voyage?''
``That is according to the sense you attach to the question,
sir. Do you mean is he a good comrade? No, for I think he
never liked me since the day when I was silly enough, after
a little quarrel we had, to propose to him to stop for ten
minutes at the island of Monte Cristo to settle the dispute
- a proposition which I was wrong to suggest, and he quite
right to refuse. If you mean as responsible agent when you
ask me the question, I believe there is nothing to say
against him, and that you will be content with the way in
which he has performed his duty.''
``But tell me, Dantes, if you had command of the Pharaon
should you be glad to see Danglars remain?''
``Captain or mate, M. Morrel, I shall always have the
greatest respect for those who possess the owners'
confidence.''
``That's right, that's right, Dantes! I see you are a
thoroughly good fellow, and will detain you no longer. Go,
for I see how impatient you are.''
``Then I have leave?''
``Go, I tell you.''
``May I have the use of your skiff?''
``Certainly.''
``Then, for the present, M. Morrel, farewell, and a thousand
thanks!''
``I hope soon to see you again, my dear Edmond. Good luck to
you.''
The young sailor jumped into the skiff, and sat down in the
stern sheets, with the order that he be put ashore at La
Canebiere. The two oarsmen bent to their work, and the
little boat glided away as rapidly as possible in the midst
of the thousand vessels which choke up the narrow way which
leads between the two rows of ships from the mouth of the
harbour to the Quai d'Orleans.
The shipowner, smiling, followed him with his eyes until he
saw him spring out on the quay and disappear in the midst of
the throng, which from five o'clock in the morning until
nine o'clock at night, swarms in the famous street of La
Canebiere, - a street of which the modern Phocaeans are so
proud that they say with all the gravity in the world, and
with that accent which gives so much character to what is
said, ``If Paris had La Canebiere, Paris would be a second
Marseilles.'' On turning round the owner saw Danglars behind
him, apparently awaiting orders, but in reality also
watching the young sailor, - but there was a great
difference in the expression of the two men who thus
followed the movements of Edmond Dantes.
We will leave Danglars struggling with the demon of hatred,
and endeavouring to insinuate in the ear of the shipowner
some evil suspicions against his comrade, and follow Dantes,
who, after having traversed La Canebiere, took the Rue de
Noailles, and entering a small house, on the left of the
Allees de Meillan, rapidly ascended four flights of a dark
staircase, holding the baluster with one hand, while with
the other he repressed the beatings of his heart, and paused
before a half-open door, from which he could see the whole
of a small room.
This room was occupied by Dantes' father. The news of the
arrival of the Pharaon had not yet reached the old man, who,
mounted on a chair, was amusing himself by training with
trembling hand the nasturtiums and sprays of clematis that
clambered over the trellis at his window. Suddenly, he felt
an arm thrown around his body, and a well-known voice behind
him exclaimed, ``Father - dear father!''
The old man uttered a cry, and turned round; then, seeing
his son, he fell into his arms, pale and trembling.
``What ails you, my dearest father? Are you ill?'' inquired
the young man, much alarmed.
``No, no, my dear Edmond - my boy - my son! - no; but I
did not expect you; and joy, the surprise of seeing you so
suddenly - Ah, I feel as if I were going to die.''
``Come, come, cheer up, my dear father! 'Tis I - really I!
They say joy never hurts, and so I came to you without any
warning. Come now, do smile, instead of looking at me so
solemnly. Here I am back again, and we are going to be
happy.''
``Yes, yes, my boy, so we will - so we will,'' replied the
old man; ``but how shall we be happy? Shall you never leave
me again? Come, tell me all the good fortune that has
befallen you.''
``God forgive me,'' said the young man, ``for rejoicing at
happiness derived from the misery of others, but, Heaven
knows, I did not seek this good fortune; it has happened,
and I really cannot pretend to lament it. The good Captain
Leclere is dead, father, and it is probable that, with the
aid of M. Morrel, I shall have his place. Do you understand,
father? Only imagine me a captain at twenty, with a hundred
louis pay, and a share in the profits! Is this not more than
a poor sailor like me could have hoped for?''
``Yes, my dear boy,'' replied the old man, ``it is very
fortunate.''
``Well, then, with the first money I touch, I mean you to
have a small house, with a garden in which to plant
clematis, nasturtiums, and honeysuckle. But what ails you,
father? Are you not well?''
``'Tis nothing, nothing; it will soon pass away'' - and as he
said so the old man's strength failed him, and he fell
backwards.
``Come, come,'' said the young man, ``a glass of wine, father,
will revive you. Where do you keep your wine?''
``No, no; thanks. You need not look for it; I do not want
it,'' said the old man.
``Yes, yes, father, tell me where it is,'' and he opened two
or three cupboards.
``It is no use,'' said the old man, ``there is no wine.''
``What, no wine?'' said Dantes, turning pale, and looking
alternately at the hollow cheeks of the old man and the
empty cupboards. ``What, no wine? Have you wanted money,
father?''
``I want nothing now that I have you,'' said the old man.
``Yet,'' stammered Dantes, wiping the perspiration from his
brow, - ``yet I gave you two hundred francs when I left,
three months ago.''
``Yes, yes, Edmond, that is true, but you forgot at that time
a little debt to our neighbour, Caderousse. He reminded me of
it, telling me if I did not pay for you, he would be paid by
M. Morrel; and so, you see, lest he might do you an injury''
-
``Well?''
``Why, I paid him.''
``But,'' cried Dantes, ``it was a hundred and forty francs I
owed Caderousse.''
``Yes,'' stammered the old man.
``And you paid him out of the two hundred francs I left you?''
The old man nodded.
``So that you have lived for three months on sixty francs,''
muttered Edmond.
``You know how little I require,'' said the old man.
``Heaven pardon me,'' cried Edmond, falling on his knees
before his father.
``What are you doing?''
``You have wounded me to the heart.''
``Never mind it, for I see you once more,'' said the old man;
``and now it's all over - everything is all right again.''
``Yes, here I am,'' said the young man, ``with a promising
future and a little money. Here, father, here!'' he said,
``take this - take it, and send for something immediately.''
And he emptied his pockets on the table, the contents
consisting of a dozen gold pieces, five or six five-franc
pieces, and some smaller coin. The countenance of old Dantes
brightened.
``Whom does this belong to?'' he inquired.
``To me, to you, to us! Take it; buy some provisions; be
happy, and to-morrow we shall have more.''
``Gently, gently,'' said the old man, with a smile; ``and by
your leave I will use your purse moderately, for they would
say, if they saw me buy too many things at a time, that I
had been obliged to await your return, in order to be able
to purchase them.''
``Do as you please; but, first of all, pray have a servant,
father. I will not have you left alone so long. I have some
smuggled coffee and most capital tobacco, in a small chest
in the hold, which you shall have to-morrow. But, hush, here
comes somebody.''
``'Tis Caderousse, who has heard of your arrival, and no
doubt comes to congratulate you on your fortunate return.''
``Ah, lips that say one thing, while the heart thinks
another,'' murmured Edmond. ``But, never mind, he is a
neighbour who has done us a service on a time, so he's
welcome.''
As Edmond paused, the black and bearded head of Caderousse
appeared at the door. He was a man of twenty-five or six,
and held a piece of cloth, which, being a tailor, he was
about to make into a coat-lining.
``What, is it you, Edmond, back again?'' said he, with a broad
Marseillaise accent, and a grin that displayed his
ivory-white teeth.
``Yes, as you see, neighbour Caderousse; and ready to be
agreeable to you in any and every way,'' replied Dantes, but
ill-concealing his coldness under this cloak of civility.
``Thanks - thanks; but, fortunately, I do not want for
anything; and it chances that at times there are others who
have need of me.'' Dantes made a gesture. ``I do not allude to
you, my boy. No! - no! I lent you money, and you returned
it; that's like good neighbours, and we are quits.''
``We are never quits with those who oblige us,'' was Dantes'
reply; ``for when we do not owe them money, we owe them
gratitude.''
``What's the use of mentioning that? What is done is done.
Let us talk of your happy return, my boy. I had gone on the
quay to match a piece of mulberry cloth, when I met friend
Danglars. `You at Marseilles?' - `Yes,' says he.
```I thought you were at Smyrna.' - `I was; but am now back
again.'
```And where is the dear boy, our little Edmond?'
```Why, with his father, no doubt,' replied Danglars. And so
I came,'' added Caderousse, ``as fast as I could to have the
pleasure of shaking hands with a friend.''
``Worthy Caderousse!'' said the old man, ``he is so much
attached to us.''
``Yes, to be sure I am. I love and esteem you, because honest
folks are so rare. But it seems you have come back rich, my
boy,'' continued the tailor, looking askance at the handful
of gold and silver which Dantes had thrown on the table.
The young man remarked the greedy glance which shone in the
dark eyes of his neighbour. ``Eh,'' he said, negligently. ``this
money is not mine. I was expressing to my father my fears
that he had wanted many things in my absence, and to
convince me he emptied his purse on the table. Come, father''
added Dantes, ``put this money back in your box - unless
neighbour Caderousse wants anything, and in that case it is
at his service.''
``No, my boy, no,'' said Caderousse. ``I am not in any want,
thank God, my living is suited to my means. Keep your money
- keep it, I say; - one never has too much; - but, at the
same time, my boy, I am as much obliged by your offer as if
I took advantage of it.''
``It was offered with good will,'' said Dantes.
``No doubt, my boy; no doubt. Well, you stand well with M.
Morrel I hear, - you insinuating dog, you!''
``M. Morrel has always been exceedingly kind to me,'' replied
Dantes.
``Then you were wrong to refuse to dine with him.''
``What, did you refuse to dine with him?'' said old Dantes;
``and did he invite you to dine?''
``Yes, my dear father,'' replied Edmond, smiling at his
father's astonishment at the excessive honour paid to his
son.
``And why did you refuse, my son?'' inquired the old man.
``That I might the sooner see you again, my dear father,''
replied the young man. ``I was most anxious to see you.''
``But it must have vexed M. Morrel, good, worthy man,'' said
Caderousse. ``And when you are looking forward to be captain,
it was wrong to annoy the owner.''
``But I explained to him the cause of my refusal,'' replied
Dantes, ``and I hope he fully understood it.''
``Yes, but to be captain one must do a little flattery to
one's patrons.''
``I hope to be captain without that,'' said Dantes.
``So much the better - so much the better! Nothing will give
greater pleasure to all your old friends; and I know one
down there behind the Saint Nicolas citadel who will not be
sorry to hear it.''
``Mercedes?'' said the old man.
``Yes, my dear father, and with your permission, now I have
seen you, and know you are well and have all you require, I
will ask your consent to go and pay a visit to the
Catalans.''
``Go, my dear boy,'' said old Dantes: ``and heaven bless you in
your wife, as it has blessed me in my son!''
``His wife!'' said Caderousse; ``why, how fast you go on,
father Dantes; she is not his wife yet, as it seems to me.''
``So, but according to all probability she soon will be,''
replied Edmond.
``Yes - yes,'' said Caderousse; ``but you were right to return
as soon as possible, my boy.''
``And why?''
``Because Mercedes is a very fine girl, and fine girls never
lack followers; she particularly has them by dozens.''
``Really?'' answered Edmond, with a smile which had in it
traces of slight uneasiness.
``Ah, yes,'' continued Caderousse, ``and capital offers, too;
but you know, you will be captain, and who could refuse you
then?''
``Meaning to say,'' replied Dantes, with a smile which but
ill-concealed his trouble, ``that if I were not a captain'' -
``Eh - eh!'' said Caderousse, shaking his head.
``Come, come,'' said the sailor, ``I have a better opinion than
you of women in general, and of Mercedes in particular; and
I am certain that, captain or not, she will remain ever
faithful to me.''
``So much the better - so much the better,'' said Caderousse.
``When one is going to be married, there is nothing like
implicit confidence; but never mind that, my boy, - go and
announce your arrival, and let her know all your hopes and
prospects.''
``I will go directly,'' was Edmond's reply; and, embracing his
father, and nodding to Caderousse, he left the apartment.
Caderousse lingered for a moment, then taking leave of old
Dantes, he went downstairs to rejoin Danglars, who awaited
him at the corner of the Rue Senac.
``Well,'' said Danglars, ``did you see him?''
``I have just left him,'' answered Caderousse.
``Did he allude to his hope of being captain?''
``He spoke of it as a thing already decided.''
``Indeed!'' said Danglars, ``he is in too much hurry, it
appears to me.''
``Why, it seems M. Morrel has promised him the thing.''
``So that he is quite elated about it?''
``Why, yes, he is actually insolent over the matter - has
already offered me his patronage, as if he were a grand
personage, and proffered me a loan of money, as though he
were a banker.''
``Which you refused?''
``Most assuredly; although I might easily have accepted it,
for it was I who put into his hands the first silver he ever
earned; but now M. Dantes has no longer any occasion for
assistance - he is about to become a captain.''
``Pooh!'' said Danglars, ``he is not one yet.''
``Ma foi, it will be as well if he is not,'' answered
Caderousse; ``for if he should be, there will be really no
speaking to him.''
``If we choose,'' replied Danglars, ``he will remain what he
is; and perhaps become even less than he is.''
``What do you mean?''
``Nothing - I was speaking to myself. And is he still in
love with the Catalane?''
``Over head and ears; but, unless I am much mistaken, there
will be a storm in that quarter.''
``Explain yourself.''
``Why should I?''
``It is more important than you think, perhaps. You do not
like Dantes?''
``I never like upstarts.''
``Then tell me all you know about the Catalane.''
``I know nothing for certain; only I have seen things which
induce me to believe, as I told you, that the future captain
will find some annoyance in the vicinity of the Vieilles
Infirmeries.''
``What have you seen? - come, tell me!''
``Well, every time I have seen Mercedes come into the city
she has been accompanied by a tall, strapping, black-eyed
Catalan, with a red complexion, brown skin, and fierce air,
whom she calls cousin.''
``Really; and you think this cousin pays her attentions?''
``I only suppose so. What else can a strapping chap of
twenty-one mean with a fine wench of seventeen?''
``And you say that Dantes has gone to the Catalans?''
``He went before I came down.''
``Let us go the same way; we will stop at La Reserve, and we
can drink a glass of La Malgue, whilst we wait for news.''
``Come along,'' said Caderousse; ``but you pay the score.''
``Of course,'' replied Danglars; and going quickly to the
designated place, they called for a bottle of wine, and two
glasses.
Pere Pamphile had seen Dantes pass not ten minutes before;
and assured that he was at the Catalans, they sat down under
the budding foliage of the planes and sycamores, in the
branches of which the birds were singing their welcome to
one of the first days of spring.
Beyond a bare, weather-worn wall, about a hundred paces from
the spot where the two friends sat looking and listening as
they drank their wine, was the village of the Catalans. Long
ago this mysterious colony quitted Spain, and settled on the
tongue of land on which it is to this day. Whence it came no
one knew, and it spoke an unknown tongue. One of its chiefs,
who understood Provencal, begged the commune of Marseilles
to give them this bare and barren promontory, where, like
the sailors of old, they had run their boats ashore. The
request was granted; and three months afterwards, around the
twelve or fifteen small vessels which had brought these
gypsies of the sea, a small village sprang up. This village,
constructed in a singular and picturesque manner, half
Moorish, half Spanish, still remains, and is inhabited by
descendants of the first comers, who speak the language of
their fathers. For three or four centuries they have
remained upon this small promontory, on which they had
settled like a flight of seabirds, without mixing with the
Marseillaise population, intermarrying, and preserving their
original customs and the costume of their mother-country as
they have preserved its language.
Our readers will follow us along the only street of this
little village, and enter with us one of the houses, which
is sunburned to the beautiful dead-leaf colour peculiar to
the buildings of the country, and within coated with
whitewash, like a Spanish posada. A young and beautiful
girl, with hair as black as jet, her eyes as velvety as the
gazelle's, was leaning with her back against the wainscot,
rubbing in her slender delicately moulded fingers a bunch of
heath blossoms, the flowers of which she was picking off and
strewing on the floor; her arms, bare to the elbow, brown,
and modelled after those of the Arlesian Venus, moved with a
kind of restless impatience, and she tapped the earth with
her arched and supple foot, so as to display the pure and
full shape of her well-turned leg, in its red cotton, gray
and blue clocked, stocking. At three paces from her, seated
in a chair which he balanced on two legs, leaning his elbow
on an old worm-eaten table, was a tall young man of twenty,
or two-and-twenty, who was looking at her with an air in
which vexation and uneasiness were mingled. He questioned
her with his eyes, but the firm and steady gaze of the young
girl controlled his look.
``You see, Mercedes,'' said the young man, ``here is Easter
come round again; tell me, is this the moment for a
wedding?''
``I have answered you a hundred times, Fernand, and really
you must be very stupid to ask me again.''
``Well, repeat it, - repeat it, I beg of you, that I may at
last believe it! Tell me for the hundredth time that you
refuse my love, which had your mother's sanction. Make me
understand once for all that you are trifling with my
happiness, that my life or death are nothing to you. Ah, to
have dreamed for ten years of being your husband, Mercedes,
and to lose that hope, which was the only stay of my
existence!''
``At least it was not I who ever encouraged you in that hope,
Fernand,'' replied Mercedes; ``you cannot reproach me with the
slightest coquetry. I have always said to you, `I love you
as a brother; but do not ask from me more than sisterly
affection, for my heart is another's.' Is not this true,
Fernand?''
``Yes, that is very true, Mercedes,'' replied the young man,
``Yes, you have been cruelly frank with me; but do you forget
that it is among the Catalans a sacred law to intermarry?''
``You mistake, Fernand; it is not a law, but merely a custom,
and, I pray of you, do not cite this custom in your favour.
You are included in the conscription, Fernand, and are only
at liberty on sufferance, liable at any moment to be called
upon to take up arms. Once a soldier, what would you do with
me, a poor orphan, forlorn, without fortune, with nothing
but a half-ruined hut and a few ragged nets, the miserable
inheritance left by my father to my mother, and by my mother
to me? She has been dead a year, and you know, Fernand, I
have subsisted almost entirely on public charity. Sometimes
you pretend I am useful to you, and that is an excuse to
share with me the produce of your fishing, and I accept it,
Fernand, because you are the son of my father's brother,
because we were brought up together, and still more because
it would give you so much pain if I refuse. But I feel very
deeply that this fish which I go and sell, and with the
produce of which I buy the flax I spin, - I feel very
keenly, Fernand, that this is charity.''
``And if it were, Mercedes, poor and lone as you are, you
suit me as well as the daughter of the first shipowner or
the richest banker of Marseilles! What do such as we desire
but a good wife and careful housekeeper, and where can I
look for these better than in you?''
``Fernand,'' answered Mercedes, shaking her head, ``a woman
becomes a bad manager, and who shall say she will remain an
honest woman, when she loves another man better than her
husband? Rest content with my friendship, for I say once
more that is all I can promise, and I will promise no more
than I can bestow.''
``I understand,'' replied Fernand, ``you can endure your own
wretchedness patiently, but you are afraid to share mine.
Well, Mercedes, beloved by you, I would tempt fortune; you
would bring me good luck, and I should become rich. I could
extend my occupation as a fisherman, might get a place as
clerk in a warehouse, and become in time a dealer myself.''
``You could do no such thing, Fernand; you are a soldier, and
if you remain at the Catalans it is because there is no war;
so remain a fisherman, and contented with my friendship, as
I cannot give you more.''
``Well, I will do better, Mercedes. I will be a sailor;
instead of the costume of our fathers, which you despise, I
will wear a varnished hat, a striped shirt, and a blue
jacket, with an anchor on the buttons. Would not that dress
please you?''
``What do you mean?'' asked Mercedes, with an angry glance, -
``what do you mean? I do not understand you?''
``I mean, Mercedes, that you are thus harsh and cruel with
me, because you are expecting some one who is thus attired;
but perhaps he whom you await is inconstant, or if he is
not, the sea is so to him.''
``Fernand,'' cried Mercedes, ``I believed you were
good-hearted, and I was mistaken! Fernand, you are wicked to
call to your aid jealousy and the anger of God! Yes, I will
not deny it, I do await, and I do love him of whom you
speak; and, if he does not return, instead of accusing him
of the inconstancy which you insinuate, I will tell you that
he died loving me and me only.'' The young girl made a
gesture of rage. ``I understand you, Fernand; you would be
revenged on him because I do not love you; you would cross
your Catalan knife with his dirk. What end would that
answer? To lose you my friendship if he were conquered, and
see that friendship changed into hate if you were victor.
Believe me, to seek a quarrel with a man is a bad method of
pleasing the woman who loves that man. No, Fernand, you will
not thus give way to evil thoughts. Unable to have me for
your wife, you will content yourself with having me for your
friend and sister; and besides,'' she added, her eyes
troubled and moistened with tears, ``wait, wait, Fernand; you
said just now that the sea was treacherous, and he has been
gone four months, and during these four months there have
been some terrible storms.''
Fernand made no reply, nor did he attempt to check the tears
which flowed down the cheeks of Mercedes, although for each
of these tears he would have shed his heart's blood; but
these tears flowed for another. He arose, paced a while up
and down the hut, and then, suddenly stopping before
Mercedes, with his eyes glowing and his hands clinched, -
``Say, Mercedes,'' he said, ``once for all, is this your final
determination?''
``I love Edmond Dantes,'' the young girl calmly replied, ``and
none but Edmond shall ever be my husband.''
``And you will always love him?''
``As long as I live.''
Fernand let fall his head like a defeated man, heaved a sigh
that was like a groan, and then suddenly looking her full in
the face, with clinched teeth and expanded nostrils, said,
- ``But if he is dead'' -
``If he is dead, I shall die too.''
``If he has forgotten you'' -
``Mercedes!'' called a joyous voice from without, -
``Mercedes!''
``Ah,'' exclaimed the young girl, blushing with delight, and
fairly leaping in excess of love, ``you see he has not
forgotten me, for here he is!'' And rushing towards the door,
she opened it, saying, ``Here, Edmond, here I am!''
Fernand, pale and trembling, drew back, like a traveller at
the sight of a serpent, and fell into a chair beside him.
Edmond and Mercedes were clasped in each other's arms. The
burning Marseilles sun, which shot into the room through the
open door, covered them with a flood of light. At first they
saw nothing around them. Their intense happiness isolated
them from all the rest of the world, and they only spoke in
broken words, which are the tokens of a joy so extreme that
they seem rather the expression of sorrow. Suddenly Edmond
saw the gloomy, pale, and threatening countenance of
Fernand, as it was defined in the shadow. By a movement for
which he could scarcely account to himself, the young
Catalan placed his hand on the knife at his belt.
``Ah, your pardon,'' said Dantes, frowning in his turn; ``I did
not perceive that there were three of us.'' Then, turning to
Mercedes, he inquired, ``Who is this gentleman?''
``One who will be your best friend, Dantes, for he is my
friend, my cousin, my brother; it is Fernand - the man
whom, after you, Edmond, I love the best in the world. Do
you not remember him?''
``Yes!'' said Dantes, and without relinquishing Mercedes hand
clasped in one of his own, he extended the other to the
Catalan with a cordial air. But Fernand, instead of
responding to this amiable gesture, remained mute and
trembling. Edmond then cast his eyes scrutinisingly at the
agitated and embarrassed Mercedes, and then again on the
gloomy and menacing Fernand. This look told him all, and his
anger waxed hot.
``I did not know, when I came with such haste to you, that I
was to meet an enemy here.''
``An enemy!'' cried Mercedes, with an angry look at her
cousin. ``An enemy in my house, do you say, Edmond! If I
believed that, I would place my arm under yours and go with
you to Marseilles, leaving the house to return to it no
more.''
Fernand's eye darted lightning. ``And should any misfortune
occur to you, dear Edmond,'' she continued with the same
calmness which proved to Fernand that the young girl had
read the very innermost depths of his sinister thought, ``if
misfortune should occur to you, I would ascend the highest
point of the Cape de Morgion and cast myself headlong from
it.''
Fernand became deadly pale. ``But you are deceived, Edmond,''
she continued. ``You have no enemy here - there is no one
but Fernand, my brother, who will grasp your hand as a
devoted friend.''
And at these words the young girl fixed her imperious look
on the Catalan, who, as if fascinated by it, came slowly
towards Edmond, and offered him his hand. His hatred, like a
powerless though furious wave, was broken against the strong
ascendancy which Mercedes exercised over him. Scarcely,
however, had he touched Edmond's hand than he felt he had
done all he could do, and rushed hastily out of the house.
``Oh,'' he exclaimed, running furiously and tearing his hair
- ``Oh, who will deliver me from this man? Wretched -
wretched that I am!''
``Hallo, Catalan! Hallo, Fernand! where are you running to?''
exclaimed a voice.
The young man stopped suddenly, looked around him, and
perceived Caderousse sitting at table with Danglars, under
an arbour.
``Well'', said Caderousse, ``why don't you come? Are you really
in such a hurry that you have no time to pass the time of
day with your friends?''
``Particularly when they have still a full bottle before
them,'' added Danglars. Fernand looked at them both with a
stupefied air, but did not say a word.
``He seems besotted,'' said Danglars, pushing Caderousse with
his knee. ``Are we mistaken, and is Dantes triumphant in
spite of all we have believed?''
``Why, we must inquire into that,'' was Caderousse's reply;
and turning towards the young man, said, ``Well, Catalan,
can't you make up your mind?''
Fernand wiped away the perspiration steaming from his brow,
and slowly entered the arbour, whose shade seemed to restore
somewhat of calmness to his senses, and whose coolness
somewhat of refreshment to his exhausted body.
``Good-day,'' said he. ``You called me, didn't you?'' And he
fell, rather than sat down, on one of the seats which
surrounded the table.
``I called you because you were running like a madman, and I
was afraid you would throw yourself into the sea,'' said
Caderousse, laughing. ``Why, when a man has friends, they are
not only to offer him a glass of wine, but, moreover, to
prevent his swallowing three or four pints of water
unnecessarily!''
Fernand gave a groan, which resembled a sob, and dropped his
head into his hands, his elbows leaning on the table.
``Well, Fernand, I must say,'' said Caderousse, beginning the
conversation, with that brutality of the common people in
which curiosity destroys all diplomacy, ``you look uncommonly
like a rejected lover;'' and he burst into a hoarse laugh.
``Bah!'' said Danglars, ``a lad of his make was not born to be
unhappy in love. You are laughing at him, Caderousse.''
``No,'' he replied, ``only hark how he sighs! Come, come,
Fernand,'' said Caderousse, ``hold up your head, and answer
us. It's not polite not to reply to friends who ask news of
your health.''
``My health is well enough,'' said Fernand, clinching his
hands without raising his head.
``Ah, you see, Danglars,'' said Caderousse, winking at his
friend, ``this is how it is; Fernand, whom you see here, is a
good and brave Catalan, one of the best fishermen in
Marseilles, and he is in love with a very fine girl, named
Mercedes; but it appears, unfortunately, that the fine girl
is in love with the mate of the Pharaon; and as the Pharaon
arrived to-day - why, you understand!''
``No; I do not understand,'' said Danglars.
``Poor Fernand has been dismissed,'' continued Caderousse.
``Well, and what then?'' said Fernand, lifting up his head,
and looking at Caderousse like a man who looks for some one
on whom to vent his anger; ``Mercedes is not accountable to
any person, is she? Is she not free to love whomsoever she
will?''
``Oh, if you take it in that sense,'' said Caderousse, ``it is
another thing. But I thought you were a Catalan, and they
told me the Catalans were not men to allow themselves to be
supplanted by a rival. It was even told me that Fernand,
especially, was terrible in his vengeance.''
Fernand smiled piteously. ``A lover is never terrible,'' he
said.
``Poor fellow!'' remarked Danglars, affecting to pity the
young man from the bottom of his heart. ``Why, you see, he
did not expect to see Dantes return so suddenly - he
thought he was dead, perhaps; or perchance faithless! These
things always come on us more severely when they come
suddenly.''
``Ah, ma foi, under any circumstances,'' said Caderousse, who
drank as he spoke, and on whom the fumes of the wine began
to take effect, - ``under any circumstances Fernand is not
the only person put out by the fortunate arrival of Dantes;
is he, Danglars?''
``No, you are right - and I should say that would bring him
ill-luck.''
``Well, never mind,'' answered Caderousse, pouring out a glass
of wine for Fernand, and filling his own for the eighth or
ninth time, while Danglars had merely sipped his. ``Never
mind - in the meantime he marries Mercedes - the lovely
Mercedes - at least he returns to do that.''
During this time Danglars fixed his piercing glance on the
young man, on whose heart Caderousse's words fell like
molten lead.
``And when is the wedding to be?'' he asked.
``Oh, it is not yet fixed!'' murmured Fernand.
``No, but it will be,'' said Caderousse, ``as surely as Dantes
will be captain of the Pharaon - eh, Danglars?''
Danglars shuddered at this unexpected attack, and turned to
Caderousse, whose countenance he scrutinised, to try and
detect whether the blow was premeditated; but he read
nothing but envy in a countenance already rendered brutal
and stupid by drunkenness.
``Well,'' said he, filling the glasses, ``let us drink to
Captain Edmond Dantes, husband of the beautiful Catalane!''
Caderousse raised his glass to his mouth with unsteady hand,
and swallowed the contents at a gulp. Fernand dashed his on
the ground.
``Eh, eh, eh!'' stammered Caderousse. ``What do I see down
there by the wall, in the direction of the Catalans? Look,
Fernand, your eyes are better than mine. I believe I see
double. You know wine is a deceiver; but I should say it was
two lovers walking side by side, and hand in hand. Heaven
forgive me, they do not know that we can see them, and they
are actually embracing!''
Danglars did not lose one pang that Fernand endured.
``Do you know them, Fernand?'' he said.
``Yes,'' was the reply, in a low voice. ``It is Edmond and
Mercedes!''
``Ah, see there, now!'' said Caderousse; ``and I did not
recognise them! Hallo, Dantes! hello, lovely damsel! Come
this way, and let us know when the wedding is to be, for
Fernand here is so obstinate he will not tell us.''
``Hold your tongue, will you?'' said Danglars, pretending to
restrain Caderousse, who, with the tenacity of drunkards,
leaned out of the arbour. ``Try to stand upright, and let the
lovers make love without interruption. See, look at Fernand,
and follow his example; he is well-behaved!''
Fernand, probably excited beyond bearing, pricked by
Danglars, as the bull is by the bandilleros, was about to
rush out; for he had risen from his seat, and seemed to be
collecting himself to dash headlong upon his rival, when
Mercedes, smiling and graceful, lifted up her lovely head,
and looked at them with her clear and bright eyes. At this
Fernand recollected her threat of dying if Edmond died, and
dropped again heavily on his seat. Danglars looked at the
two men, one after the other, the one brutalized by liquor,
the other overwhelmed with love.
``I shall get nothing from these fools,'' he muttered; ``and I
am very much afraid of being here between a drunkard and a
coward. Here's an envious fellow making himself boozy on
wine when he ought to be nursing his wrath, and here is a
fool who sees the woman he loves stolen from under his nose
and takes on like a big baby. Yet this Catalan has eyes that
glisten like those of the vengeful Spaniards, Sicilians, and
Calabrians, and the other has fists big enough to crush an
ox at one blow. Unquestionably, Edmond's star is in the
ascendant, and he will marry the splendid girl - he will be
captain, too, and laugh at us all, unless'' - a sinister
smile passed over Danglars' lips - ``unless I take a hand in
the affair,'' he added.
``Hallo!'' continued Caderousse, half-rising, and with his
fist on the table, ``hallo, Edmond! do you not see your
friends, or are you too proud to speak to them?''
``No, my dear fellow!'' replied Dantes, ``I am not proud, but I
am happy, and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride.''
``Ah, very well, that's an explanation!'' said Caderousse.
``How do you do, Madame Dantes?''
Mercedes courtesied gravely, and said - ``That is not my
name, and in my country it bodes ill fortune, they say, to
call a young girl by the name of her betrothed before he
becomes her husband. So call me Mercedes, if you please.''
``We must excuse our worthy neighbour, Caderousse,'' said
Dantes, ``he is so easily mistaken.''
``So, then, the wedding is to take place immediately, M.
Dantes,'' said Danglars, bowing to the young couple.
``As soon as possible, M. Danglars; to-day all preliminaries
will be arranged at my father's, and to-morrow, or next day
at latest, the wedding festival here at La Reserve. My
friends will be there, I hope; that is to say, you are
invited, M. Danglars, and you, Caderousse.''
``And Fernand,'' said Caderousse with a chuckle; ``Fernand,
too, is invited!''
``My wife's brother is my brother,'' said Edmond; ``and we,
Mercedes and I, should be very sorry if he were absent at
such a time.''
Fernand opened his mouth to reply, but his voice died on his
lips, and he could not utter a word.
``To-day the preliminaries, to-morrow or next day the
ceremony! You are in a hurry, captain!''
``Danglars,'' said Edmond, smiling, ``I will say to you as
Mercedes said just now to Caderousse, `Do not give me a
title which does not belong to me'; that may bring me bad
luck.''
``Your pardon,'' replied Danglars, ``I merely said you seemed
in a hurry, and we have lots of time; the Pharaon cannot be
under weigh again in less than three months.''
``We are always in a hurry to be happy, M. Danglars; for when
we have suffered a long time, we have great difficulty in
believing in good fortune. But it is not selfishness alone
that makes me thus in haste; I must go to Paris.''
``Ah, really? - to Paris! and will it be the first time you
have ever been there, Dantes?''
``Yes.''
``Have you business there?''
``Not of my own; the last commission of poor Captain Leclere;
you know to what I allude, Danglars - it is sacred.
Besides, I shall only take the time to go and return.''
``Yes, yes, I understand,'' said Danglars, and then in a low
tone, he added, ``To Paris, no doubt to deliver the letter
which the grand marshal gave him. Ah, this letter gives me
an idea - a capital idea! Ah; Dantes, my friend, you are
not yet registered number one on board the good ship
Pharaon;'' then turning towards Edmond, who was walking away,
``A pleasant journey,'' he cried.
``Thank you,'' said Edmond with a friendly nod, and the two
lovers continued on their way, as calm and joyous as if they
were the very elect of heaven.
Danglars followed Edmond and Mercedes with his eyes until
the two lovers disappeared behind one of the angles of Fort
Saint Nicolas, then turning round, he perceived Fernand, who
had fallen, pale and trembling, into his chair, while
Caderousse stammered out the words of a drinking-song.
``Well, my dear sir,'' said Danglars to Fernand, ``here is a
marriage which does not appear to make everybody happy.''
``It drives me to despair,'' said Fernand.
``Do you, then, love Mercedes?''
``I adore her!''
``For long?''
``As long as I have known her - always.''
``And you sit there, tearing your hair, instead of seeking to
remedy your condition; I did not think that was the way of
your people.''
``What would you have me do?'' said Fernand.
``How do I know? Is it my affair? I am not in love with
Mademoiselle Mercedes; but for you - in the words of the
gospel, seek, and you shall find.''
``I have found already.''
``What?''
``I would stab the man, but the woman told me that if any
misfortune happened to her betrothed, she would kill
herself.''
``Pooh! Women say those things, but never do them.''
``You do not know Mercedes; what she threatens she will do.''
``Idiot!'' muttered Danglars; ``whether she kill herself or
not, what matter, provided Dantes is not captain?''
``Before Mercedes should die,'' replied Fernand, with the
accents of unshaken resolution, ``I would die myself!''
``That's what I call love!'' said Caderousse with a voice more
tipsy than ever. ``That's love, or I don't know what love
is.''
``Come,'' said Danglars, ``you appear to me a good sort of
fellow, and hang me, I should like to help you, but'' -
``Yes,'' said Caderousse, ``but how?''
``My dear fellow,'' replied Danglars, ``you are three parts
drunk; finish the bottle, and you will be completely so.
Drink then, and do not meddle with what we are discussing,
for that requires all one's wit and cool judgment.''
``I - drunk!'' said Caderousse; ``well that's a good one! I
could drink four more such bottles; they are no bigger than
cologne flasks. Pere Pamphile, more wine!'' and Caderousse
rattled his glass upon the table.
``You were saving, sir'' - said Fernand, awaiting with great
anxiety the end of this interrupted remark.
``What was I saying? I forget. This drunken Caderousse has
made me lose the thread of my sentence.''
``Drunk, if you like; so much the worse for those who fear
wine, for it is because they have bad thoughts which they
are afraid the liquor will extract from their hearts;'' and
Caderousse began to sing the two last lines of a song very
popular at the time, -
`Tous les mechants sont beuveurs d'eau;
C'est bien prouve par le deluge.'1
``You said, sir, you would like to help me, but'' -
``Yes; but I added, to help you it would be sufficient that
Dantes did not marry her you love; and the marriage may
easily be thwarted, methinks, and yet Dantes need not die.''
``Death alone can separate them,'' remarked Fernand.
``You talk like a noodle, my friend,'' said Caderousse; ``and
here is Danglars, who is a wide-awake, clever, deep fellow,
who will prove to you that you are wrong. Prove it,
Danglars. I have answered for you. Say there is no need why
Dantes should die; it would, indeed, be a pity he should.
Dantes is a good fellow; I like Dantes. Dantes, your
health.''
Fernand rose impatiently. ``Let him run on,'' said Danglars,
restraining the young man; ``drunk as he is, he is not much
out in what he says. Absence severs as well as death, and if
the walls of a prison were between Edmond and Mercedes they
would be as effectually separated as if he lay under a
tombstone.''
``Yes; but one gets out of prison,'' said Caderousse, who,
with what sense was left him, listened eagerly to the
conversation, ``and when one gets out and one's name is
Edmond Dantes, one seeks revenge'' -
``What matters that?'' muttered Fernand.
``And why, I should like to know,'' persisted Caderousse,
``should they put Dantes in prison? he has not robbed or
killed or murdered.''
``Hold your tongue!'' said Danglars.
``I won't hold my tongue!'' replied Caderousse; ``I say I want
to know why they should put Dantes in prison; I like Dantes;
Dantes, your health!'' and he swallowed another glass of
wine.
Danglars saw in the muddled look of the tailor the progress
of his intoxication, and turning towards Fernand, said,
``Well, you understand there is no need to kill him.''
``Certainly not, if, as you said just now, you have the means
of having Dantes arrested. Have you that means?''
``It is to be found for the searching. But why should I
meddle in the matter? it is no affair of mine.''
``I know not why you meddle,'' said Fernand, seizing his arm;
``but this I know, you have some motive of personal hatred
against Dantes, for he who himself hates is never mistaken
in the sentiments of others.''
``I! - motives of hatred against Dantes? None, on my word! I
saw you were unhappy, and your unhappiness interested me;
that's all; but since you believe I act for my own account,
adieu, my dear friend, get out of the affair as best you
may;'' and Danglars rose as if he meant to depart.
``No, no,'' said Fernand, restraining him, ``stay! It is of
very little consequence to me at the end of the matter
whether you have any angry feeling or not against Dantes. I
hate him! I confess it openly. Do you find the means, I will
execute it, provided it is not to kill the man, for Mercedes
has declared she will kill herself if Dantes is killed.''
Caderousse, who had let his head drop on the table, now
raised it, and looking at Fernand with his dull and fishy
eyes, he said, - ``Kill Dantes! who talks of killing Dantes?
I won't have him killed - I won't! He's my friend, and this
morning offered to share his money with me, as I shared mine
with him. I won't have Dantes killed - I won't!''
``And who has said a word about killing him, muddlehead?''
replied Danglars. ``We were merely joking; drink to his
health,'' he added, filling Caderousse's glass, ``and do not
interfere with us.''
``Yes, yes, Dantes' good health!'' said Caderousse, emptying
his glass, ``here's to his health! his health - hurrah!''
``But the means - the means?'' said Fernand.
``Have you not hit upon any?'' asked Danglars.
``No! - you undertook to do so.''
``True,'' replied Danglars; ``the French have the superiority
over the Spaniards, that the Spaniards ruminate, while the
French invent.''
``Do you invent, then,'' said Fernand impatiently.
``Waiter,'' said Danglars, ``pen, ink, and paper.''
``Pen, ink, and paper,'' muttered Fernand.
``Yes; I am a supercargo; pen, ink, and paper are my tools,
and without my tools I am fit for nothing.''
``Pen, ink, and paper, then,'' called Fernand loudly.
``There's what you want on that table,'' said the waiter.
``Bring them here.'' The waiter did as he was desired.
``When one thinks,'' said Caderousse, letting his hand drop on
the paper, ``there is here wherewithal to kill a man more
sure than if we waited at the corner of a wood to
assassinate him! I have always had more dread of a pen, a
bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper, than of a sword or
pistol.''
``The fellow is not so drunk as he appears to be,'' said
Danglars. ``Give him some more wine, Fernand.'' Fernand filled
Caderousse's glass, who, like the confirmed toper he was,
lifted his hand from the paper and seized the glass.
The Catalan watched him until Caderousse, almost overcome by
this fresh assault on his senses, rested, or rather dropped,
his glass upon the table.
``Well!'' resumed the Catalan, as he saw the final glimmer of
Caderousse's reason vanishing before the last glass of wine.
``Well, then, I should say, for instance,'' resumed Danglars,
``that if after a voyage such as Dantes has just made, in
which he touched at the Island of Elba, some one were to
denounce him to the king's procureur as a Bonapartist agent''
-
``I will denounce him!'' exclaimed the young man hastily.
``Yes, but they will make you then sign your declaration, and
confront you with him you have denounced; I will supply you
with the means of supporting your accusation, for I know the
fact well. But Dantes cannot remain forever in prison, and
one day or other he will leave it, and the day when he comes
out, woe betide him who was the cause of his incarceration!''
``Oh, I should wish nothing better than that he would come
and seek a quarrel with me.''
``Yes, and Mercedes! Mercedes, who will detest you if you
have only the misfortune to scratch the skin of her dearly
beloved Edmond!''
``True!'' said Fernand.
``No, no,'' continued Danglars; ``if we resolve on such a step,
it would be much better to take, as I now do, this pen, dip
it into this ink, and write with the left hand (that the
writing may not be recognised) the denunciation we propose.''
And Danglars, uniting practice with theory, wrote with his
left hand, and in a writing reversed from his usual style,
and totally unlike it, the following lines, which he handed
to Fernand, and which Fernand read in an undertone: -
``Very good,'' resumed Danglars; ``now your revenge looks like
common-sense, for in no way can it revert to yourself, and
the matter will thus work its own way; there is nothing to
do now but fold the letter as I am doing, and write upon it,
`To the king's attorney,' and that's all settled.'' And
Danglars wrote the address as he spoke.
``Yes, and that's all settled!'' exclaimed Caderousse, who, by
a last effort of intellect, had followed the reading of the
letter, and instinctively comprehended all the misery which
such a denunciation must entail. ``Yes, and that's all
settled; only it will be an infamous shame;'' and he
stretched out his hand to reach the letter.
``Yes,'' said Danglars, taking it from beyond his reach; ``and
as what I say and do is merely in jest, and I, amongst the
first and foremost, should be sorry if anything happened to
Dantes - the worthy Dantes - look here!'' And taking the
letter, he squeezed it up in his hands and threw it into a
corner of the arbour.
``All right!'' said Caderousse. ``Dantes is my friend, and I
won't have him ill-used.''
``And who thinks of using him ill? Certainly neither I nor
Fernand,'' said Danglars, rising and looking at the young
man, who still remained seated, but whose eye was fixed on
the denunciatory sheet of paper flung into the corner.
``In this case,'' replied Caderousse, ``let's have some more
wine. I wish to drink to the health of Edmond and the lovely
Mercedes.''
``You have had too much already, drunkard,'' said Danglars;
``and if you continue, you will be compelled to sleep here,
because unable to stand on your legs.''
``I?'' said Caderousse, rising with all the offended dignity
of a drunken man, ``I can't keep on my legs? Why, I'll wager
I can go up into the belfry of the Accoules, and without
staggering, too!''
``Done!'' said Danglars, ``I'll take your bet; but to-morrow -
to-day it is time to return. Give me your arm, and let us
go.''
``Very well, let us go,'' said Caderousse; ``but I don't want
your arm at all. Come, Fernand, won't you return to
Marseilles with us?''
``No,'' said Fernand; ``I shall return to the Catalans.''
``You're wrong. Come with us to Marseilles - come along.''
``I will not.''
``What do you mean? you will not? Well, just as you like, my
prince; there's liberty for all the world. Come along,
Danglars, and let the young gentleman return to the Catalans
if he chooses.''
Danglars took advantage of Caderousse's temper at the
moment, to take him off towards Marseilles by the Porte
Saint-Victor, staggering as he went.
When they had advanced about twenty yards, Danglars looked
back and saw Fernand stoop, pick up the crumpled paper, and
putting it into his pocket then rush out of the arbour
towards Pillon.
``Well,'' said Caderousse, ``why, what a lie he told! He said
he was going to the Catalans, and he is going to the city.
Hallo, Fernand!''
``Oh, you don't see straight,'' said Danglars; ``he's gone
right enough.''
``Well,'' said Caderousse, ``I should have said not - how
treacherous wine is!''
``Come, come,'' said Danglars to himself, ``now the thing is at
work and it will effect its purpose unassisted.''
The morning's sun rose clear and resplendent, touching the
foamy waves into a network of ruby-tinted light.
The feast had been made ready on the second floor at La
Reserve, with whose arbour the reader is already familiar.
The apartment destined for the purpose was spacious and
lighted by a number of windows, over each of which was
written in golden letters for some inexplicable reason the
name of one of the principal cities of France; beneath these
windows a wooden balcony extended the entire length of the
house. And although the entertainment was fixed for twelve
o'clock, an hour previous to that time the balcony was
filled with impatient and expectant guests, consisting of
the favoured part of the crew of the Pharaon, and other
personal friends of the bride-groom, the whole of whom had
arrayed themselves in their choicest costumes, in order to
do greater honour to the occasion.
Various rumours were afloat to the effect that the owners of
the Pharaon had promised to attend the nuptial feast; but
all seemed unanimous in doubting that an act of such rare
and exceeding condescension could possibly be intended.
Danglars, however, who now made his appearance, accompanied
by Caderousse, effectually confirmed the report, stating
that he had recently conversed with M. Morrel, who had
himself assured him of his intention to dine at La Reserve.
In fact, a moment later M. Morrel appeared and was saluted
with an enthusiastic burst of applause from the crew of the
Pharaon, who hailed the visit of the shipowner as a sure
indication that the man whose wedding feast he thus
delighted to honour would ere long be first in command of the
ship; and as Dantes was universally beloved on board his
vessel, the sailors put no restraint on their tumultuous joy
at finding that the opinion and choice of their superiors so
exactly coincided with their own.
With the entrance of M. Morrel, Danglars and Caderousse were
despatched in search of the bride-groom to convey to him the
intelligence of the arrival of the important personage whose
coming had created such a lively sensation, and to beseech
him to make haste.
Danglars and Caderousse set off upon their errand at full
speed; but ere they had gone many steps they perceived a
group advancing towards them, composed of the betrothed
pair, a party of young girls in attendance on the bride, by
whose side walked Dantes' father; the whole brought up by
Fernand, whose lips wore their usual sinister smile.
Neither Mercedes nor Edmond observed the strange expression
of his countenance; they were so happy that they were
conscious only of the sunshine and the presence of each
other.
Having acquitted themselves of their errand, and exchanged a
hearty shake of the hand with Edmond, Danglars and
Caderousse took their places beside Fernand and old Dantes,
- the latter of whom attracted universal notice. The old
man was attired in a suit of glistening watered silk,
trimmed with steel buttons, beautifully cut and polished.
His thin but wiry legs were arrayed in a pair of richly
embroidered clocked stockings, evidently of English
manufacture, while from his three-cornered hat depended a
long streaming knot of white and blue ribbons. Thus he came
along, supporting himself on a curiously carved stick, his
aged countenance lit up with happiness, looking for all the
world like one of the aged dandies of 1796, parading the
newly opened gardens of the Tuileries and Luxembourg. Beside
him glided Caderousse, whose desire to partake of the good
things provided for the wedding-party had induced him to
become reconciled to the Dantes, father and son, although
there still lingered in his mind a faint and unperfect
recollection of the events of the preceding night; just as
the brain retains on waking in the morning the dim and misty
outline of a dream.
As Danglars approached the disappointed lover, he cast on
him a look of deep meaning, while Fernand, as he slowly
paced behind the happy pair, who seemed, in their own
unmixed content, to have entirely forgotten that such a
being as himself existed, was pale and abstracted;
occasionally, however, a deep flush would overspread his
countenance, and a nervous contraction distort his features,
while, with an agitated and restless gaze, he would glance
in the direction of Marseilles, like one who either
anticipated or foresaw some great and important event.
Dantes himself was simply, but becomingly, clad in the dress
peculiar to the merchant service - a costume somewhat
between a military and a civil garb; and with his fine
countenance, radiant with joy and happiness, a more perfect
specimen of manly beauty could scarcely be imagined.
Lovely as the Greek girls of Cyprus or Chios, Mercedes
boasted the same bright flashing eyes of jet, and ripe,
round, coral lips. She moved with the light, free step of an
Arlesienne or an Andalusian. One more practiced in the arts
of great cities would have hid her blushes beneath a veil,
or, at least, have cast down her thickly fringed lashes, so
as to have concealed the liquid lustre of her animated eyes;
but, on the contrary, the delighted girl looked around her
with a smile that seemed to say: ``If you are my friends,
rejoice with me, for I am very happy.''
As soon as the bridal party came in sight of La Reserve, M.
Morrel descended and came forth to meet it, followed by the
soldiers and sailors there assembled, to whom he had
repeated the promise already given, that Dantes should be
the successor to the late Captain Leclere. Edmond, at the
approach of his patron, respectfully placed the arm of his
affianced bride within that of M. Morrel, who, forthwith
conducting her up the flight of wooden steps leading to the
chamber in which the feast was prepared, was gayly followed
by the guests, beneath whose heavy tread the slight
structure creaked and groaned for the space of several
minutes.
``Father,'' said Mercedes, stopping when she had reached the
centre of the table, ``sit, I pray you, on my right hand; on
my left I will place him who has ever been as a brother to
me,'' pointing with a soft and gentle smile to Fernand; but
her words and look seemed to inflict the direst torture on
him, for his lips became ghastly pale, and even beneath the
dark hue of his complexion the blood might be seen
retreating as though some sudden pang drove it back to the
heart.
During this time, Dantes, at the opposite side of the table,
had been occupied in similarly placing his most honoured
guests. M. Morrel was seated at his right hand, Danglars at
his left; while, at a sign from Edmond, the rest of the
company ranged themselves as they found it most agreeable.
Then they began to pass around the dusky, piquant, Arlesian
sausages, and lobsters in their dazzling red cuirasses,
prawns of large size and brilliant colour, the echinus with
its prickly outside and dainty morsel within, the clovis,
esteemed by the epicures of the South as more than rivalling
the exquisite flavour of the oyster, - all the delicacies,
in fact, that are cast up by the wash of waters on the sandy
beach, and styled by the grateful fishermen ``fruits of the
sea.''
``A pretty silence truly!'' said the old father of the
bride-groom, as he carried to his lips a glass of wine of
the hue and brightness of the topaz, and which had just been
placed before Mercedes herself. ``Now, would anybody think
that this room contained a happy, merry party, who desire
nothing better than to laugh and dance the hours away?''
``Ah,'' sighed Caderousse, ``a man cannot always feel happy
because he is about to be married.''
``The truth is,'' replied Dantes, ``that I am too happy for
noisy mirth; if that is what you meant by your observation,
my worthy friend, you are right; joy takes a strange effect
at times, it seems to oppress us almost the same as sorrow.''
Danglars looked towards Fernand, whose excitable nature
received and betrayed each fresh impression.
``Why, what ails you?'' asked he of Edmond. ``Do you fear any
approaching evil? I should say that you were the happiest
man alive at this instant.''
``And that is the very thing that alarms me,'' returned
Dantes. ``Man does not appear to me to be intended to enjoy
felicity so unmixed; happiness is like the enchanted palaces
we read of in our childhood, where fierce, fiery dragons
defend the entrance and approach; and monsters of all shapes
and kinds, requiring to be overcome ere victory is ours. I
own that I am lost in wonder to find myself promoted to an
honour of which I feel myself unworthy - that of being the
husband of Mercedes.''
``Nay, nay!'' cried Caderousse, smiling, ``you have not
attained that honour yet. Mercedes is not yet your wife. Just
assume the tone and manner of a husband, and see how she
will remind you that your hour is not yet come!''
The bride blushed, while Fernand, restless and uneasy,
seemed to start at every fresh sound, and from time to time
wiped away the large drops of perspiration that gathered on
his brow.
``Well, never mind that, neighbour Caderousse; it is not worth
while to contradict me for such a trifle as that. 'Tis true
that Mercedes is not actually my wife; but,'' added he,
drawing out his watch, ``in an hour and a half she will be.''
A general exclamation of surprise ran round the table, with
the exception of the elder Dantes, whose laugh displayed the
still perfect beauty of his large white teeth. Mercedes
looked pleased and gratified, while Fernand grasped the
handle of his knife with a convulsive clutch.
``In an hour?'' inquired Danglars, turning pale. ``How is that,
my friend?''
``Why, thus it is,'' replied Dantes. ``Thanks to the influence
of M. Morrel, to whom, next to my father, I owe every
blessing I enjoy, every difficulty his been removed. We have
purchased permission to waive the usual delay; and at
half-past two o'clock the mayor of Marseilles will be
waiting for us at the city hall. Now, as a quarter-past one
has already struck, I do not consider I have asserted too
much in saying, that, in another hour and thirty minutes
Mercedes will have become Madame Dantes.''
Fernand closed his eyes, a burning sensation passed across
his brow, and he was compelled to support himself by the
table to prevent his falling from his chair; but in spite of
all his efforts, he could not refrain from uttering a deep
groan, which, however, was lost amid the noisy felicitations
of the company.
``Upon my word,'' cried the old man, ``you make short work of
this kind of affair. Arrived here only yesterday morning,
and married to-day at three o'clock! Commend me to a sailor
for going the quick way to work!''
``But,'' asked Danglars, in a timid tone, ``how did you manage
about the other formalities - the contract - the
settlement?''
``The contract,'' answered Dantes, laughingly, ``it didn't take
long to fix that. Mercedes has no fortune; I have none to
settle on her. So, you see, our papers were quickly written
out, and certainly do not come very expensive.'' This joke
elicited a fresh burst of applause.
``So that what we presumed to be merely the betrothal feast
turns out to be the actual wedding dinner!'' said Danglars.
``No, no,'' answered Dantes; ``don't imagine I am going to put
you off in that shabby manner. To-morrow morning I start for
Paris; four days to go, and the same to return, with one day
to discharge the commission intrusted to me, is all the time
I shall be absent. I shall be back here by the first of
March, and on the second I give my real marriage feast.''
This prospect of fresh festivity redoubled the hilarity of
the guests to such a degree, that the elder Dantes, who, at
the commencement of the repast, had commented upon the
silence that prevailed, now found it difficult, amid the
general din of voices, to obtain a moment's tranquillity in
which to drink to the health and prosperity of the bride and
bride-groom.
Dantes, perceiving the affectionate eagerness of his father,
responded by a look of grateful pleasure; while Mercedes
glanced at the clock and made an expressive gesture to
Edmond.
Around the table reigned that noisy hilarity which usually
prevails at such a time among people sufficiently free from
the demands of social position not to feel the trammels of
etiquette. Such as at the commencement of the repast had not
been able to seat themselves according to their inclination
rose unceremoniously, and sought out more agreeable
companions. Everybody talked at once, without waiting for a
reply and each one seemed to be contented with expressing
his or her own thoughts.
Fernand's paleness appeared to have communicated itself to
Danglars. As for Fernand himself, he seemed to be enduring
the tortures of the damned; unable to rest, he was among the
first to quit the table, and, as though seeking to avoid the
hilarious mirth that rose in such deafening sounds, he
continued, in utter silence, to pace the farther end of the
salon.
Caderousse approached him just as Danglars, whom Fernand
seemed most anxious to avoid, had joined him in a corner of
the room.
``Upon my word,'' said Caderousse, from whose mind the
friendly treatment of Dantes, united with the effect of the
excellent wine he had partaken of, had effaced every feeling
of envy or jealousy at Dantes' good fortune, - ``upon my
word, Dantes is a downright good fellow, and when I see him
sitting there beside his pretty wife that is so soon to be.
I cannot help thinking it would have been a great pity to
have served him that trick you were planning yesterday.''
``Oh, there was no harm meant,'' answered Danglars; ``at first
I certainly did feel somewhat uneasy as to what Fernand
might be tempted to do; but when I saw how completely he had
mastered his feelings, even so far as to become one of his
rival's attendants, I knew there was no further cause for
apprehension.'' Caderousse looked full at Fernand - he was
ghastly pale.
``Certainly,'' continued Danglars, ``the sacrifice was no
trifling one, when the beauty of the bride is concerned.
Upon my soul, that future captain of mine is a lucky dog!
Gad, I only wish he would let me take his place.''
``Shall we not set forth?'' asked the sweet, silvery voice of
Mercedes; ``two o'clock has just struck, and you know we are
expected in a quarter of an hour.''
``To be sure! - to be sure!'' cried Dantes, eagerly quitting
the table; ``let us go directly!''
His words were re-echoed by the whole party, with vociferous
cheers.
At this moment Danglars, who had been incessantly observing
every change in Fernand's look and manner, saw him stagger
and fall back, with an almost convulsive spasm, against a
seat placed near one of the open windows. At the same
instant his ear caught a sort of indistinct sound on the
stairs, followed by the measured tread of soldiery, with the
clanking of swords and military accoutrements; then came a
hum and buzz as of many voices, so as to deaden even the
noisy mirth of the bridal party, among whom a vague feeling
of curiosity and apprehension quelled every disposition to
talk, and almost instantaneously the most deathlike
stillness prevailed.
The sounds drew nearer. Three blows were struck upon the
panel of the door. The company looked at each other in
consternation.
``I demand admittance,'' said a loud voice outside the room,
``in the name of the law!'' As no attempt was made to prevent
it, the door was opened, and a magistrate, wearing his
official scarf, presented himself, followed by four soldiers
and a corporal. Uneasiness now yielded to the most extreme
dread on the part of those present.
``May I venture to inquire the reason of this unexpected
visit?'' said M. Morrel, addressing the magistrate, whom he
evidently knew; ``there is doubtless some mistake easily
explained.''
``If it be so,'' replied the magistrate, ``rely upon every
reparation being made; meanwhile, I am the bearer of an
order of arrest, and although I most reluctantly perform the
task assigned me, it must, nevertheless, be fulfilled. Who
among the persons here assembled answers to the name of
Edmond Dantes?'' Every eye was turned towards the young man
who, spite of the agitation he could not but feel, advanced
with dignity, and said, in a firm voice, ``I am he; what is
your pleasure with me?''
``Edmond Dantes,'' replied the magistrate, ``I arrest you in
the name of the law!''
``Me!'' repeated Edmond, slightly changing colour, ``and
wherefore, I pray?''
``I cannot inform you, but you will be duly acquainted with
the reasons that have rendered such a step necessary at the
preliminary examination.''
M. Morrel felt that further resistance or remonstrance was
useless. He saw before him an officer delegated to enforce
the law, and perfectly well knew that it would be as
unavailing to seek pity from a magistrate decked with his
official scarf, as to address a petition to some cold marble
effigy. Old Dantes, however, sprang forward. There are
situations which the heart of a father or a mother cannot be
made to understand. He prayed and supplicated in terms so
moving, that even the officer was touched, and, although
firm in his duty, he kindly said, ``My worthy friend, let me
beg of you to calm your apprehensions. Your son has probably
neglected some prescribed form or attention in registering
his cargo, and it is more than probable he will be set at
liberty directly he has given the information required,
whether touching the health of his crew, or the value of his
freight.''
``What is the meaning of all this?'' inquired Caderousse,
frowningly, of Danglars, who had assumed an air of utter
surprise.
``How can I tell you?'' replied he; ``I am, like yourself,
utterly bewildered at all that is going on, and cannot in
the least make out what it is about.'' Caderousse then looked
around for Fernand, but he had disappeared.
The scene of the previous night now came back to his mind
with startling clearness. The painful catastrophe he had
just witnessed appeared effectually to have rent away the
veil which the intoxication of the evening before had raised
between himself and his memory.
``So, so,'' said he, in a hoarse and choking voice, to
Danglars, ``this, then, I suppose, is a part of the trick you
were concerting yesterday? All I can say is, that if it be
so, 'tis an ill turn, and well deserves to bring double evil
on those who have projected it.''
``Nonsense,'' returned Danglars, ``I tell you again I have
nothing whatever to do with it; besides, you know very well
that I tore the paper to pieces.''
``No, you did not!'' answered Caderousse, ``you merely threw it
by - I saw it lying in a corner.''
``Hold your tongue, you fool! - what should you know about
it? - why, you were drunk!''
``Where is Fernand?'' inquired Caderousse.
``How do I know?'' replied Danglars; ``gone, as every prudent
man ought to be, to look after his own affairs, most likely.
Never mind where he is, let you and I go and see what is to
be done for our poor friends.''
During this conversation, Dantes, after having exchanged a
cheerful shake of the hand with all his sympathising
friends, had surrendered himself to the officer sent to
arrest him, merely saying, ``Make yourselves quite easy, my
good fellows, there is some little mistake to clear up,
that's all, depend upon it; and very likely I may not have
to go so far as the prison to effect that.''
``Oh, to be sure!'' responded Danglars, who had now approached
the group, ``nothing more than a mistake, I feel quite
certain.''
Dantes descended the staircase, preceded by the magistrate,
and followed by the soldiers. A carriage awaited him at the
door; he got in, followed by two soldiers and the
magistrate, and the vehicle drove off towards Marseilles.
``Adieu, adieu, dearest Edmond!'' cried Mercedes, stretching
out her arms to him from the balcony.
The prisoner heard the cry, which sounded like the sob of a
broken heart, and leaning from the coach he called out,
``Good-by, Mercedes - we shall soon meet again!'' Then the
vehicle disappeared round one of the turnings of Fort Saint
Nicholas.
``Wait for me here, all of you!'' cried M. Morrel; ``I will
take the first conveyance I find, and hurry to Marseilles,
whence I will bring you word how all is going on.''
``That's right!'' exclaimed a multitude of voices, ``go, and
return as quickly as you can!''
This second departure was followed by a long and fearful
state of terrified silence on the part of those who were
left behind. The old father and Mercedes remained for some
time apart, each absorbed in grief; but at length the two
poor victims of the same blow raised their eyes, and with a
simultaneous burst of feeling rushed into each other's arms.
Meanwhile Fernand made his appearance, poured out for
himself a glass of water with a trembling hand; then hastily
swallowing it, went to sit down at the first vacant place,
and this was, by mere chance, placed next to the seat on
which poor Mercedes had fallen half fainting, when released
from the warm and affectionate embrace of old Dantes.
Instinctively Fernand drew back his chair.
``He is the cause of all this misery - I am quite sure of
it,'' whispered Caderousse, who had never taken his eyes off
Fernand, to Danglars.
``I don't think so,'' answered the other; he's too stupid to
imagine such a scheme. I only hope the mischief will fall
upon the head of whoever wrought it.''
``You don't mention those who aided and abetted the deed,''
said Caderousse.
``Surely,'' answered Danglars, ``one cannot be held responsible
for every chance arrow shot into the air.''
``You can, indeed, when the arrow lights point downward on
somebody's head.''
Meantime the subject of the arrest was being canvassed in
every different form.
``What think you, Danglars,'' said one of the party, turning
towards him, ``of this event?''
``Why,'' replied he, ``I think it just possible Dantes may have
been detected with some trifling article on board ship
considered here as contraband.''
``But how could he have done so without your knowledge,
Danglars, since you are the ship's supercargo?''
``Why, as for that, I could only know what I was told
respecting the merchandise with which the vessel was laden.
I know she was loaded with cotton, and that she took in her
freight at Alexandria from Pastret's warehouse, and at
Smyrna from Pascal's; that is all I was obliged to know, and
I beg I may not be asked for any further particulars.''
``Now I recollect,'' said the afflicted old father; ``my poor
boy told me yesterday he had got a small case of coffee, and
another of tobacco for me!''
``There, you see,'' exclaimed Danglars. ``Now the mischief is
out; depend upon it the custom-house people went rummaging
about the ship in our absence, and discovered poor Dantes'
hidden treasures.''
Mercedes, however, paid no heed to this explanation of her
lover's arrest. Her grief, which she had hitherto tried to
restrain, now burst out in a violent fit of hysterical
sobbing.
``Come, come,'' said the old man, ``be comforted, my poor
child; there is still hope!''
``Hope!'' repeated Danglars.
``Hope!'' faintly murmured Fernand, but the word seemed to die
away on his pale agitated lips, and a convulsive spasm
passed over his countenance.
``Good news! good news!'' shouted forth one of the party
stationed in the balcony on the lookout. ``Here comes M.
Morrel back. No doubt, now, we shall hear that our friend is
released!''
Mercedes and the old man rushed to meet the shipowner and
greeted him at the door. He was very pale.
``What news?'' exclaimed a general burst of voices.
``Alas, my friends,'' replied M. Morrel, with a mournful shake
of his head, ``the thing has assumed a more serious aspect
than I expected.''
``Oh, indeed - indeed, sir, he is innocent!'' sobbed forth
Mercedes.
``That I believe!'' answered M. Morrel; ``but still he is
charged'' -
``With what?'' inquired the elder Dantes.
``With being an agent of the Bonapartist faction!'' Many of
our readers may be able to recollect how formidable such an
accusation became in the period at which our story is dated.
A despairing cry escaped the pale lips of Mercedes; the old
man sank into a chair.
``Ah, Danglars!'' whispered Caderousse, ``you have deceived me
- the trick you spoke of last night has been played; but I
cannot suffer a poor old man or an innocent girl to die of
grief through your fault. I am determined to tell them all
about it.''
``Be silent, you simpleton!'' cried Danglars, grasping him by
the arm, ``or I will not answer even for your own safety. Who
can tell whether Dantes be innocent or guilty? The vessel
did touch at Elba, where he quitted it, and passed a whole
day in the island. Now, should any letters or other
documents of a compromising character be found upon him,
will it not be taken for granted that all who uphold him are
his accomplices?''
With the rapid instinct of selfishness, Caderousse readily
perceived the solidity of this mode of reasoning; he gazed,
doubtfully, wistfully, on Danglars, and then caution
supplanted generosity.
``Suppose we wait a while, and see what comes of it,'' said
he, casting a bewildered look on his companion.
``To be sure!'' answered Danglars. ``Let us wait, by all means.
If he be innocent, of course he will be set at liberty; if
guilty, why, it is no use involving ourselves in a
conspiracy.''
``Let us go, then. I cannot stay here any longer.''
``With all my heart!'' replied Danglars, pleased to find the
other so tractable. ``Let us take ourselves out of the way,
and leave things for the present to take their course.''
After their departure, Fernand, who had now again become the
friend and protector of Mercedes, led the girl to her home,
while the friends of Dantes conducted the now half-fainting
man back to his abode.
The rumour of Edmond arrest as a Bonapartist agent was not
slow in circulating throughout the city.
``Could you ever have credited such a thing, my dear
Danglars?'' asked M. Morrel, as, on his return to the port
for the purpose of gleaning fresh tidings of Dantes, from M.
de Villefort, the assistant procureur, he overtook his
supercargo and Caderousse. ``Could you have believed such a
thing possible?''
``Why, you know I told you,'' replied Danglars, ``that I
considered the circumstance of his having anchored at the
Island of Elba as a very suspicious circumstance.''
``And did you mention these suspicions to any person beside
myself?''
``Certainly not!'' returned Danglars. Then added in a low
whisper, ``You understand that, on account of your uncle, M.
Policar Morrel, who served under the other government, and
who does not altogether conceal what he thinks on the
subject, you are strongly suspected of regretting the
abdication of Napoleon. I should have feared to injure both
Edmond and yourself, had I divulged my own apprehensions to
a soul. I am too well aware that though a subordinate, like
myself, is bound to acquaint the shipowner with everything
that occurs, there are many things he ought most carefully
to conceal from all else.''
``'Tis well, Danglars - 'tis well!'' replied M. Morrel. ``You
are a worthy fellow; and I had already thought of your
interests in the event of poor Edmond having become captain
of the Pharaon.''
``Is it possible you were so kind?''
``Yes, indeed; I had previously inquired of Dantes what was
his opinion of you, and if he should have any reluctance to
continue you in your post, for somehow I have perceived a
sort of coolness between you.''
``And what was his reply?''
``That he certainly did think he had given you offence in an
affair which he merely referred to without entering into
particulars, but that whoever possessed the good opinion and
confidence of the ship's owner would have his preference
also.''
``The hypocrite!'' murmured Danglars.
``Poor Dantes!'' said Caderousse. ``No one can deny his being a
noble-hearted young fellow.''
``But meanwhile,'' continued M. Morrel, ``here is the Pharaon
without a captain.''
``Oh,'' replied Danglars, ``since we cannot leave this port for
the next three months, let us hope that ere the expiration
of that period Dantes will be set at liberty.''
``No doubt; but in the meantime?''
``I am entirely at your service, M. Morrel,'' answered
Danglars. ``You know that I am as capable of managing a ship
as the most experienced captain in the service; and it will
be so far advantageous to you to accept my services, that
upon Edmond's release from prison no further change will be
requisite on board the Pharaon than for Dantes and myself
each to resume our respective posts.''
``Thanks, Danglars - that will smooth over all difficulties.
I fully authorise you at once to assume the command of the
Pharaon, and look carefully to the unloading of her freight.
Private misfortunes must never be allowed to interfere with
business.''
``Be easy on that score, M. Morrel; but do you think we shall
be permitted to see our poor Edmond?''
``I will let you know that directly I have seen M. de
Villefort, whom I shall endeavour to interest in Edmond's
favour. I am aware he is a furious royalist; but, in spite of
that, and of his being king's attorney, he is a man like
ourselves, and I fancy not a bad sort of one.''
``Perhaps not,'' replied Danglars; ``but I hear that he is
ambitions, and that's rather against him.''
``Well, well,'' returned M. Morrel, ``we shall see. But now
hasten on board, I will join you there ere long.'' So saying,
the worthy shipowner quitted the two allies, and proceeded
in the direction of the Palais de Justice.
``You see,'' said Danglars, addressing Caderousse, ``the turn
things have taken. Do you still feel any desire to stand up
in his defence?''
``Not the slightest, but yet it seems to me a shocking thing
that a mere joke should lead to such consequences.''
``But who perpetrated that joke, let me ask? neither you nor
myself, but Fernand; you knew very well that I threw the
paper into a corner of the room - indeed, I fancied I had
destroyed it.''
``Oh, no,'' replied Caderousse, ``that I can answer for, you
did not. I only wish I could see it now as plainly as I saw
it lying all crushed and crumpled in a corner of the arbour.''
``Well, then, if you did, depend upon it, Fernand picked it
up, and either copied it or caused it to be copied; perhaps,
even, he did not take the trouble of recopying it. And now I
think of it, by Heavens, he may have sent the letter itself!
Fortunately, for me, the handwriting was disguised.''
``Then you were aware of Dantes being engaged in a
conspiracy?''
``Not I. As I before said, I thought the whole thing was a
joke, nothing more. It seems, however, that I have
unconsciously stumbled upon the truth.''
``Still,'' argued Caderousse, ``I would give a great deal if
nothing of the kind had happened; or, at least, that I had
had no hand in it. You will see, Danglars, that it will turn
out an unlucky job for both of us.''
``Nonsense! If any harm come of it, it should fall on the
guilty person; and that, you know, is Fernand. How can we be
implicated in any way? All we have got to do is, to keep our
own counsel, and remain perfectly quiet, not breathing a
word to any living soul; and you will see that the storm
will pass away without in the least affecting us.''
``Amen!'' responded Caderousse, waving his hand in token of
adieu to Danglars, and bending his steps towards the Allees
de Meillan, moving his head to and fro, and muttering as he
went, after the manner of one whose mind was overcharged
with one absorbing idea.
``So far, then,'' said Danglars, mentally, ``all has gone as I
would have it. I am, temporarily, commander of the Pharaon,
with the certainty of being permanently so, if that fool of
a Caderousse can be persuaded to hold his tongue. My only
fear is the chance of Dantes being released. But, there, he
is in the hands of Justice; and,'' added he with a smile,
``she will take her own.'' So saying, he leaped into a boat,
desiring to be rowed on board the Pharaon, where M. Morrel
had agreed to meet him.
In one of the aristocratic mansions built by Puget in the
Rue du Grand Cours opposite the Medusa fountain, a second
marriage feast was being celebrated, almost at the same hour
with the nuptial repast given by Dantes. In this case,
however, although the occasion of the entertainment was
similar, the company was strikingly dissimilar. Instead of a
rude mixture of sailors, soldiers, and those belonging to
the humblest grade of life, the present assembly was
composed of the very flower of Marseilles society, -
magistrates who had resigned their office during the
usurper's reign; officers who had deserted from the imperial
army and joined forces with Conde; and younger members of
families, brought up to hate and execrate the man whom five
years of exile would convert into a martyr, and fifteen of
restoration elevate to the rank of a god.
The guests were still at table, and the heated and energetic
conversation that prevailed betrayed the violent and
vindictive passions that then agitated each dweller of the
South, where unhappily, for five centuries religious strife
had long given increased bitterness to the violence of party
feeling.
The emperor, now king of the petty Island of Elba, after
having held sovereign sway over one-half of the world,
counting as his subjects a small population of five or six
thousand souls, - after having been accustomed to hear the
``Vive Napoleons'' of a hundred and twenty millions of human
beings, uttered in ten different languages, - was looked
upon here as a ruined man, separated forever from any fresh
connection with France or claim to her throne.
The magistrates freely discussed their political views; the
military part of the company talked unreservedly of Moscow
and Leipsic, while the women commented on the divorce of
Josephine. It was not over the downfall of the man, but over
the defeat of the Napoleonic idea, that they rejoiced, and
in this they foresaw for themselves the bright and cheering
prospect of a revivified political existence.
An old man, decorated with the cross of Saint Louis, now
rose and proposed the health of King Louis XVIII. It was the
Marquis de Saint-Meran. This toast, recalling at once the
patient exile of Hartwell and the peace-loving King of
France, excited universal enthusiasm; glasses were elevated
in the air a l'Anglais, and the ladies, snatching their
bouquets from their fair bosoms, strewed the table with
their floral treasures. In a word, an almost poetical fervour
prevailed.
``Ah,'' said the Marquise de Saint-Meran, a woman with a
stern, forbidding eye, though still noble and distinguished
in appearance, despite her fifty years - ``ah, these
revolutionists, who have driven us from those very
possessions they afterwards purchased for a mere trifle
during the Reign of Terror, would be compelled to own, were
they here, that all true devotion was on our side, since we
were content to follow the fortunes of a falling monarch,
while they, on the contrary, made their fortune by
worshipping the rising sun; yes, yes, they could not help
admitting that the king, for whom we sacrificed rank,
wealth, and station was truly our `Louis the well-beloved,'
while their wretched usurper his been, and ever will be, to
them their evil genius, their `Napoleon the accursed.' Am I
not right, Villefort?''
``I beg your pardon, madame. I really must pray you to excuse
me, but - in truth - I was not attending to the
conversation.''
``Marquise, marquise!'' interposed the old nobleman who had
proposed the toast, ``let the young people alone; let me tell
you, on one's wedding day there are more agreeable subjects
of conversation than dry politics.''
``Never mind, dearest mother,'' said a young and lovely girl,
with a profusion of light brown hair, and eyes that seemed
to float in liquid crystal, ``'tis all my fault for seizing
upon M. de Villefort, so as to prevent his listening to what
you said. But there - now take him - he is your own for as
long as you like. M. Villefort, I beg to remind you my
mother speaks to you.''
``If the marquise will deign to repeat the words I but
imperfectly caught, I shall be delighted to answer,'' said M.
de Villefort.
``Never mind, Renee,'' replied the marquise, with a look of
tenderness that seemed out of keeping with her harsh dry
features; but, however all other feelings may be withered in
a woman's nature, there is always one bright smiling spot in
the desert of her heart, and that is the shrine of maternal
love. ``I forgive you. What I was saying, Villefort, was,
that the Bonapartists had not our sincerity, enthusiasm, or
devotion.''
``They had, however, what supplied the place of those fine
qualities,'' replied the young man, ``and that was fanaticism.
Napoleon is the Mahomet of the West, and is worshipped by
his commonplace but ambitions followers, not only as a
leader and lawgiver, but also as the personification of
equality.''
``He!'' cried the marquise: ``Napoleon the type of equality!
For mercy's sake, then, what would you call Robespierre?
Come, come, do not strip the latter of his just rights to
bestow them on the Corsican, who, to my mind, has usurped
quite enough.''
``Nay, madame; I would place each of these heroes on his
right pedestal - that of Robespierre on his scaffold in the
Place Louis Quinze; that of Napoleon on the column of the
Place Vendome. The only difference consists in the opposite
character of the equality advocated by these two men; one is
the equality that elevates, the other is the equality that
degrades; one brings a king within reach of the guillotine,
the other elevates the people to a level with the throne.
Observe,'' said Villefort, smiling, ``I do not mean to deny
that both these men were revolutionary scoundrels, and that
the 9th Thermidor and the 4th of April, in the year 1814,
were lucky days for France, worthy of being gratefully
remembered by every friend to monarchy and civil order; and
that explains how it comes to pass that, fallen, as I trust
he is forever, Napoleon has still retained a train of
parasitical satellites. Still, marquise, it has been so with
other usurpers - Cromwell, for instance, who was not half
so bad as Napoleon, had his partisans and advocates.''
``Do you know, Villefort, that you are talking in a most
dreadfully revolutionary strain? But I excuse it, it is
impossible to expect the son of a Girondin to be free from a
small spice of the old leaven.'' A deep crimson suffused the
countenance of Villefort.
``'Tis true, madame,'' answered he, ``that my father was a
Girondin, but he was not among the number of those who voted
for the king's death; he was an equal sufferer with yourself
during the Reign of Terror, and had well-nigh lost his head
on the same scaffold on which your father perished.''
``True,'' replied the marquise, without wincing in the
slightest degree at the tragic remembrance thus called up;
``but bear in mind, if you please, that our respective
parents underwent persecution and proscription from
diametrically opposite principles; in proof of which I may
remark, that while my family remained among the stanchest
adherents of the exiled princes, your father lost no time in
joining the new government; and that while the Citizen
Noirtier was a Girondin, the Count Noirtier became a
senator.''
``Dear mother,'' interposed Renee, ``you know very well it was
agreed that all these disagreeable reminiscences should
forever be laid aside.''
``Suffer me, also, madame,'' replied Villefort, ``to add my
earnest request to Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran's, that you
will kindly allow the veil of oblivion to cover and conceal
the past. What avails recrimination over matters wholly past
recall? For my own part, I have laid aside even the name of
my father, and altogether disown his political principles.
He was - nay, probably may still be - a Bonapartist, and
is called Noirtier; I, on the contrary, am a stanch
royalist, and style myself de Villefort. Let what may remain
of revolutionary sap exhaust itself and die away with the
old trunk, and condescend only to regard the young shoot
which has started up at a distance from the parent tree,
without having the power, any more than the wish, to
separate entirely from the stock from which it sprung.''
``Bravo, Villefort!'' cried the marquis; ``excellently well
said! Come, now, I have hopes of obtaining what I have been
for years endeavouring to persuade the marquise to promise;
namely, a perfect amnesty and forgetfulness of the past.''
``With all my heart,'' replied the marquise; ``let the past be
forever forgotten. I promise you it affords me as little
pleasure to revive it as it does you. All I ask is, that
Villefort will be firm and inflexible for the future in his
political principles. Remember, also, Villefort, that we
have pledged ourselves to his majesty for your fealty and
strict loyalty, and that at our recommendation the king
consented to forget the past, as I do'' (and here she
extended to him her hand) - ``as I now do at your entreaty.
But bear in mind, that should there fall in your way any one
guilty of conspiring against the government, you will be so
much the more bound to visit the offence with rigorous
punishment, as it is known you belong to a suspected
family.''
``Alas, madame,'' returned Villefort, ``my profession, as well
as the times in which we live, compels me to be severe. I
have already successfully conducted several public
prosecutions, and brought the offenders to merited
punishment. But we have not done with the thing yet.''
``Do you, indeed, think so?'' inquired the marquise.
``I am, at least, fearful of it. Napoleon, in the Island of
Elba, is too near France, and his proximity keeps up the
hopes of his partisans. Marseilles is filled with half-pay
officers, who are daily, under one frivolous pretext or
other, getting up quarrels with the royalists; from hence
arise continual and fatal duels among the higher classes of
persons, and assassinations in the lower.''
``You have heard, perhaps,'' said the Comte de Salvieux, one
of M. de Saint-Meran's oldest friends, and chamberlain to
the Comte d'Artois, ``that the Holy Alliance purpose removing
him from thence?''
``Yes; they were talking about it when we left Paris,'' said
M. de Saint-Meran; ``and where is it decided to transfer
him?''
``To Saint Helena.''
``For heaven's sake, where is that?'' asked the marquise.
``An island situated on the other side of the equator, at
least two thousand leagues from here,'' replied the count.
``So much the better. As Villefort observes, it is a great
act of folly to have left such a man between Corsica, where
he was born, and Naples, of which his brother-in-law is
king, and face to face with Italy, the sovereignty of which
he coveted for his son.''
``Unfortunately,'' said Villefort, ``there are the treaties of
1814, and we cannot molest Napoleon without breaking those
compacts.''
``Oh, well, we shall find some way out of it,'' responded M.
de Salvieux. ``There wasn't any trouble over treaties when it
was a question of shooting the poor Duc d'Enghien.''
``Well,'' said the marquise, ``it seems probable that, by the
aid of the Holy Alliance, we shall be rid of Napoleon; and
we must trust to the vigilance of M. de Villefort to puriContents
1 Marseilles - The Arrival.
2 Father and Son.
3 The Catalans.
4 Conspiracy.
5 The Marriage-Feast.
6 The Deputy Procureur du Roi.
7 The Examination.
8 The Chateau D'If.
9 The Evening of the Betrothal.
10 The King's Closet at the Tuileries.
11 The Corsican Ogre.
12 Father and Son.
13 The Hundred Days.
14 The Two Prisoners.
15 Number 34 and Number 27.
16 A Learned Italian.
17 The Abbe's Chamber.
18 The Treasure.
19 The Third Attack.
20 The Cemetery of the Chateau D'If.
21 The Island of Tiboulen.
22 The Smugglers.
23 The Island of Monte Cristo.
24 The Secret Cave.
25 The Unknown.
26 The Pont du Gard Inn.
27 The Story.
28 The Prison Register.
29 The House of Morrel & Son.
30 The Fifth of September.
31 Italy: Sinbad the Sailor.
32 The Waking.
33 Roman Bandits.
34 The Colosseum.
35 La Mazzolata.
36 The Carnival at Rome.
37 The Catacombs of Saint Sebastian.
38 The Compact.
39 The Guests.
40 The Breakfast.
41 The Presentation.
42 Monsieur Bertuccio.
43 The House at Auteuil.
44 The Vendetta.
45 The Rain of Blood.
46 Unlimited Credit.
47 The Dappled Grays.
48 Ideology.
49 Haidee.
50 The Morrel Family.
51 Pyramus and Thisbe.
52 Toxicology.
53 Robert le Diable.
54 A Flurry in Stocks.
55 Major Cavalcanti.
56 Andrea Cavalcanti.
57 In the Lucerne Patch.
58 M. Noirtier de Villefort.
59 The Will.
60 The Telegraph.
61 How a Gardener may get rid of the Dormice that eat His Peaches.
62 Ghosts.
63 The Dinner.
64 The Beggar.
65 A Conjugal Scene.
66 Matrimonial Projects.
67 At the Office of the King's Attorney.
68 A Summer Ball.
69 The Inquiry.
70 The Ball.
71 Bread and Salt.
72 Madame de Saint-Meran.
73 The Promise.
74 The Villefort Family Vault.
75 A Signed Statement.
76 Progress of Cavalcanti the Younger.
77 Haidee.
78 We hear From Yanina.
79 The Lemonade.
80 The Accusation.
81 The Room of the Retired Baker.
82 The Burglary.
83 The Hand of God.
84 Beauchamp.
85 The Journey.
86 The Trial.
87 The Challenge.
88 The Insult.
89 A Nocturnal Interview.
90 The Meeting.
91 Mother and Son.
92 The Suicide.
93 Valentine.
94 Maximilian's Avowal.
95 Father and Daughter.
96 The Contract.
97 The Departure for Belgium.
98 The Bell and Bottle Tavern.
99 The Law.
100 The Apparition.
101 Locusta.
102 Valentine.
103 Maximilian.
104 Danglars Signature.
105 The Cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise.
106 Dividing the Proceeds.
107 The Lions' Den.
108 The Judge.
109 The Assizes.
110 The Indictment.
111 Expiation.
112 The Departure.
113 The Past.
114 Peppino.
115 Luigi Vampa's Bill of Fare.
116 The Pardon.
117 The Fifth of October.
The Count of Monte Cristo
by
Alexandre Dumas [Pere]
Chapter 1
Marseilles - The Arrival.
Chapter 2
Father and Son.
Chapter 3
The Catalans.
Chapter 4
Conspiracy.``The honourable, the king's attorney, is informed by a friend
of the throne and religion, that one Edmond Dantes, mate of
the ship Pharaon, arrived this morning from Smyrna, after
having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has been
intrusted by Murat with a letter for the usurper, and by the
usurper with a letter for the Bonapartist committee in
Paris. Proof of this crime will be found on arresting him,
for the letter will be found upon him, or at his father's,
or in his cabin on board the Pharaon.''
Chapter 5
The Marriage-Feast.
Chapter 6
The Deputy Procureur du Roi.