The Count of Mount Cristo (96-117) 129 pages

Chapter 96. The Contract.

Three days after the scene we have just described, namely towards fiveo'clock in the afternoon of the day fixed for the signature ofthe contract between Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars and AndreaCavalcanti, --whom the banker persisted in calling prince, --a freshbreeze was stirring the leaves in the little garden in front of theCount of Monte Cristo's house, and the count was preparing to go out. While his horses were impatiently pawing the ground, --held in by thecoachman, who had been seated a quarter of an hour on his box, --theelegant phaeton with which we are familiar rapidly turned the angle ofthe entrance-gate, and cast out on the doorsteps M. Andrea Cavalcanti, as decked up and gay as if he were going to marry a princess. Heinquired after the count with his usual familiarity, and ascendinglightly to the second story met him at the top of the stairs. The countstopped on seeing the young man. As for Andrea, he was launched, andwhen he was once launched nothing stopped him. "Ah, good morning, my dear count, " said he. "Ah, M. Andrea, " said the latter, with hishalf-jesting tone; "how do you do. "

"Charmingly, as you see. I am come to talk to you about a thousandthings; but, first tell me, were you going out or just returned?"

"I was going out, sir. "

"Then, in order not to hinder you, I will get up with you if you pleasein your carriage, and Tom shall follow with my phaeton in tow. "

"No, " said the count, with an imperceptible smile of contempt, forhe had no wish to be seen in the young man's society, --"no; I preferlistening to you here, my dear M. Andrea; we can chat better in-doors, and there is no coachman to overhear our conversation. " The countreturned to a small drawing-room on the first floor, sat down, andcrossing his legs motioned to the young man to take a seat also. Andreaassumed his gayest manner. "You know, my dear count, " said he, "theceremony is to take place this evening. At nine o'clock the contract isto be signed at my father-in-law's. "

"Ah, indeed?" said Monte Cristo.

"What; is it news to you? Has not M. Danglars informed you of theceremony?"

"Oh, yes, " said the count; "I received a letter from him yesterday, butI do not think the hour was mentioned. "

"Possibly my father-in-law trusted to its general notoriety. "

"Well, " said Monte Cristo, "you are fortunate, M. Cavalcanti; it is amost suitable alliance you are contracting, and Mademoiselle Danglars isa handsome girl. "

"Yes, indeed she is, " replied Cavalcanti, in a very modest tone.

"Above all, she is very rich, --at least, I believe so, " said MonteCristo.

"Very rich, do you think?" replied the young man.

"Doubtless; it is said M. Danglars conceals at least half of hisfortune. "

"And he acknowledges fifteen or twenty millions, " said Andrea with alook sparkling with joy.

"Without reckoning, " added Monte Cristo, "that he is on the eve ofentering into a sort of speculation already in vogue in the UnitedStates and in England, but quite novel in France. "

"Yes, yes, I know what you mean, --the railway, of which he has obtainedthe grant, is it not?"

"Precisely; it is generally believed he will gain ten millions by thataffair. "

"Ten millions! Do you think so? It is magnificent!" said Cavalcanti, who was quite confounded at the metallic sound of these golden words. "Without reckoning, " replied Monte Cristo, "that all his fortune willcome to you, and justly too, since Mademoiselle Danglars is an onlydaughter. Besides, your own fortune, as your father assured me, isalmost equal to that of your betrothed. But enough of money matters. Do you know, M. Andrea, I think you have managed this affair ratherskilfully?"

"Not badly, by any means, " said the young man; "I was born for adiplomatist. "

"Well, you must become a diplomatist; diplomacy, you know, is somethingthat is not to be acquired; it is instinctive. Have you lost yourheart?"

"Indeed, I fear it, " replied Andrea, in the tone in which he had heardDorante or Valere reply to Alceste [*] at the Theatre Francais.

"Is your love returned?"

* In Moliere's comedy, Le Misanthrope.

"I suppose so, " said Andrea with a triumphant smile, "since I amaccepted. But I must not forget one grand point. "

"Which?"

"That I have been singularly assisted. "

"Nonsense. "

"I have, indeed. "

"By circumstances?"

"No; by you. "

"By me? Not at all, prince, " said Monte Cristo laying a marked stresson the title, "what have I done for you? Are not your name, your socialposition, and your merit sufficient?"

"No, " said Andrea, --"no; it is useless for you to say so, count. Imaintain that the position of a man like you has done more than my name, my social position, and my merit. "

"You are completely mistaken, sir, " said Monte Cristo coldly, who feltthe perfidious manoeuvre of the young man, and understood the bearingof his words; "you only acquired my protection after the influenceand fortune of your father had been ascertained; for, after all, whoprocured for me, who had never seen either you or your illustriousfather, the pleasure of your acquaintance?--two of my good friends, Lord Wilmore and the Abbe Busoni. What encouraged me not to become yoursurety, but to patronize you?--your father's name, so well known inItaly and so highly honored. Personally, I do not know you. " This calmtone and perfect ease made Andrea feel that he was, for the moment, restrained by a more muscular hand than his own, and that the restraintcould not be easily broken through.

"Oh, then my father has really a very large fortune, count?"

"It appears so, sir, " replied Monte Cristo.

"Do you know if the marriage settlement he promised me has come?"

"I have been advised of it. "

"But the three millions?"

"The three millions are probably on the road. "

"Then I shall really have them?"

"Oh, well, " said the count, "I do not think you have yet known the wantof money. " Andrea was so surprised that he pondered the matter for amoment. Then, arousing from his revery, --"Now, sir, I have one requestto make to you, which you will understand, even if it should bedisagreeable to you. "

"Proceed, " said Monte Cristo.

"I have formed an acquaintance, thanks to my good fortune, with manynoted persons, and have, at least for the moment, a crowd of friends. But marrying, as I am about to do, before all Paris, I ought to besupported by an illustrious name, and in the absence of the paternalhand some powerful one ought to lead me to the altar; now, my father isnot coming to Paris, is he? He is old, covered with wounds, and suffersdreadfully, he says, in travelling. "

"Indeed?"

"Well, I am come to ask a favor of you. "

"Of me?"

"Yes, of you. "

"And pray what may it be?"

"Well, to take his part. "

"Ah, my dear sir! What?--after the varied relations I have had thehappiness to sustain towards you, can it be that you know me so littleas to ask such a thing? Ask me to lend you half a million and, althoughsuch a loan is somewhat rare, on my honor, you would annoy me less!Know, then, what I thought I had already told you, that in participationin this world's affairs, more especially in their moral aspects, theCount of Monte Cristo has never ceased to entertain the scruples andeven the superstitions of the East. I, who have a seraglio at Cairo, oneat Smyrna, and one at Constantinople, preside at a wedding?--never!"

"Then you refuse me?"

"Decidedly; and were you my son or my brother I would refuse you in thesame way. "

"But what must be done?" said Andrea, disappointed.

"You said just now that you had a hundred friends. "

"Very true, but you introduced me at M. Danglars'. "

"Not at all! Let us recall the exact facts. You met him at a dinnerparty at my house, and you introduced yourself at his house; that is atotally different affair. "

"Yes, but, by my marriage, you have forwarded that. "

"I?--not in the least, I beg you to believe. Recollect what I told youwhen you asked me to propose you. 'Oh, I never make matches, my dearprince, it is my settled principle. '" Andrea bit his lips.

"But, at least, you will be there?"

"Will all Paris be there?"

"Oh, certainly. "

"Well, like all Paris, I shall be there too, " said the count.

"And will you sign the contract?"

"I see no objection to that; my scruples do not go thus far. "

"Well, since you will grant me no more, I must be content with what yougive me. But one word more, count. "

"What is it?"

"Advice. "

"Be careful; advice is worse than a service. "

"Oh, you can give me this without compromising yourself. "

"Tell me what it is. "

"Is my wife's fortune five hundred thousand livres?"

"That is the sum M. Danglars himself announced. "

"Must I receive it, or leave it in the hands of the notary?"

"This is the way such affairs are generally arranged when it is wishedto do them stylishly: Your two solicitors appoint a meeting, whenthe contract is signed, for the next or the following day; then theyexchange the two portions, for which they each give a receipt; then, when the marriage is celebrated, they place the amount at your disposalas the chief member of the alliance. "

"Because, " said Andrea, with a certain ill-concealed uneasiness, "Ithought I heard my father-in-law say that he intended embarking ourproperty in that famous railway affair of which you spoke just now. "

"Well, " replied Monte Cristo, "it will be the way, everybody says, oftrebling your fortune in twelve months. Baron Danglars is a good father, and knows how to calculate. "

"In that case, " said Andrea, "everything is all right, excepting yourrefusal, which quite grieves me. "

"You must attribute it only to natural scruples under similarcircumstances. "

"Well, " said Andrea, "let it be as you wish. This evening, then, at nineo'clock. "

"Adieu till then. " Notwithstanding a slight resistance on the part ofMonte Cristo, whose lips turned pale, but who preserved his ceremonioussmile, Andrea seized the count's hand, pressed it, jumped into hisphaeton, and disappeared.

The four or five remaining hours before nine o'clock arrived, Andreaemployed in riding, paying visits, --designed to induce those of whomhe had spoken to appear at the banker's in their gayestequipages, --dazzling them by promises of shares in schemes which havesince turned every brain, and in which Danglars was just taking theinitiative. In fact, at half-past eight in the evening the grand salon, the gallery adjoining, and the three other drawing-rooms on the samefloor, were filled with a perfumed crowd, who sympathized but littlein the event, but who all participated in that love of being presentwherever there is anything fresh to be seen. An Academician would saythat the entertainments of the fashionable world are collections offlowers which attract inconstant butterflies, famished bees, and buzzingdrones.



No one could deny that the rooms were splendidly illuminated; the lightstreamed forth on the gilt mouldings and the silk hangings; and all thebad taste of decorations, which had only their richness to boast of, shone in its splendor. Mademoiselle Eugenie was dressed with elegantsimplicity in a figured white silk dress, and a white rose halfconcealed in her jet black hair was her only ornament, unaccompaniedby a single jewel. Her eyes, however, betrayed that perfect confidencewhich contradicted the girlish simplicity of this modest attire. MadameDanglars was chatting at a short distance with Debray, Beauchamp, andChateau-Renaud.

Debray was admitted to the house for this grand ceremony, but on thesame plane with every one else, and without any particular privilege. M. Danglars, surrounded by deputies and men connected with the revenue, wasexplaining a new theory of taxation which he intended to adopt whenthe course of events had compelled the government to call him into theministry. Andrea, on whose arm hung one of the most consummate dandiesof the opera, was explaining to him rather cleverly, since he wasobliged to be bold to appear at ease, his future projects, and the newluxuries he meant to introduce to Parisian fashions with his hundred andseventy-five thousand livres per annum.

The crowd moved to and fro in the rooms like an ebb and flow ofturquoises, rubies, emeralds, opals, and diamonds. As usual, the oldestwomen were the most decorated, and the ugliest the most conspicuous. Ifthere was a beautiful lily, or a sweet rose, you had to search for it, concealed in some corner behind a mother with a turban, or an aunt witha bird of paradise.

At each moment, in the midst of the crowd, the buzzing, and thelaughter, the door-keeper's voice was heard announcing some name wellknown in the financial department, respected in the army, or illustriousin the literary world, and which was acknowledged by a slight movementin the different groups. But for one whose privilege it was to agitatethat ocean of human waves, how many were received with a look ofindifference or a sneer of disdain! At the moment when the hand of themassive time-piece, representing Endymion asleep, pointed to nine on itsgolden face, and the hammer, the faithful type of mechanical thought, struck nine times, the name of the Count of Monte Cristo resounded inits turn, and as if by an electric shock all the assembly turned towardsthe door.

The count was dressed in black and with his habitual simplicity; hiswhite waistcoat displayed his expansive noble chest and his blackstock was singularly noticeable because of its contrast with the deadlypaleness of his face. His only jewellery was a chain, so fine that theslender gold thread was scarcely perceptible on his white waistcoat. Acircle was immediately formed around the door. The count perceived atone glance Madame Danglars at one end of the drawing-room, M. Danglarsat the other, and Eugenie in front of him. He first advanced towards thebaroness, who was chatting with Madame de Villefort, who had come alone, Valentine being still an invalid; and without turning aside, so clearwas the road left for him, he passed from the baroness to Eugenie, whomhe complimented in such rapid and measured terms, that the proud artistwas quite struck. Near her was Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly, whothanked the count for the letters of introduction he had so kindly givenher for Italy, which she intended immediately to make use of. On leavingthese ladies he found himself with Danglars, who had advanced to meethim.

Having accomplished these three social duties, Monte Cristo stopped, looking around him with that expression peculiar to a certain class, which seems to say, "I have done my duty, now let others do theirs. "Andrea, who was in an adjoining room, had shared in the sensation causedby the arrival of Monte Cristo, and now came forward to pay his respectsto the count. He found him completely surrounded; all were eager tospeak to him, as is always the case with those whose words are fewand weighty. The solicitors arrived at this moment and arranged theirscrawled papers on the velvet cloth embroidered with gold which coveredthe table prepared for the signature; it was a gilt table supported onlions' claws. One of the notaries sat down, the other remained standing. They were about to proceed to the reading of the contract, which halfParis assembled was to sign. All took their places, or rather the ladiesformed a circle, while the gentlemen (more indifferent to the restraintsof what Boileau calls the "energetic style") commented on the feverishagitation of Andrea, on M. Danglars' riveted attention, Eugenie'scomposure, and the light and sprightly manner in which the baronesstreated this important affair.

The contract was read during a profound silence. But as soon as it wasfinished, the buzz was redoubled through all the drawing-rooms; thebrilliant sums, the rolling millions which were to be at the commandof the two young people, and which crowned the display of the weddingpresents and the young lady's diamonds, which had been made in a roomentirely appropriated for that purpose, had exercised to the full theirdelusions over the envious assembly. Mademoiselle Danglars' charms wereheightened in the opinion of the young men, and for the moment seemedto outvie the sun in splendor. As for the ladies, it is needless to saythat while they coveted the millions, they thought they did not needthem for themselves, as they were beautiful enough without them. Andrea, surrounded by his friends, complimented, flattered, beginning to believein the reality of his dream, was almost bewildered. The notary solemnlytook the pen, flourished it above his head, and said, "Gentlemen, we areabout to sign the contract. "

The baron was to sign first, then the representative of M. Cavalcanti, senior, then the baroness, afterwards the "future couple, " as they arestyled in the abominable phraseology of legal documents. The baron tookthe pen and signed, then the representative. The baroness approached, leaning on Madame de Villefort's arm. "My dear, " said she, as she tookthe pen, "is it not vexatious? An unexpected incident, in the affair ofmurder and theft at the Count of Monte Cristo's, in which he nearly fella victim, deprives us of the pleasure of seeing M. De Villefort. "

"Indeed?" said M. Danglars, in the same tone in which he would havesaid, "Oh, well, what do I care?"

"As a matter of fact, " said Monte Cristo, approaching, "I am much afraidthat I am the involuntary cause of his absence. "

"What, you, count?" said Madame Danglars, signing; "if you are, takecare, for I shall never forgive you. " Andrea pricked up his ears.

"But it is not my fault, as I shall endeavor to prove. " Every onelistened eagerly; Monte Cristo who so rarely opened his lips, was aboutto speak. "You remember, " said the count, during the most profoundsilence, "that the unhappy wretch who came to rob me died at my house;the supposition is that he was stabbed by his accomplice, on attemptingto leave it. "

"Yes, " said Danglars.

"In order that his wounds might be examined he was undressed, and hisclothes were thrown into a corner, where the police picked them up, withthe exception of the waistcoat, which they overlooked. " Andrea turnedpale, and drew towards the door; he saw a cloud rising in the horizon, which appeared to forebode a coming storm.

"Well, this waistcoat was discovered to-day, covered with blood, andwith a hole over the heart. " The ladies screamed, and two or threeprepared to faint. "It was brought to me. No one could guess what thedirty rag could be; I alone suspected that it was the waistcoat of themurdered man. My valet, in examining this mournful relic, felt a paperin the pocket and drew it out; it was a letter addressed to you, baron. "

"To me?" cried Danglars.

"Yes, indeed, to you; I succeeded in deciphering your name under theblood with which the letter was stained, " replied Monte Cristo, amid thegeneral outburst of amazement.

"But, " asked Madame Danglars, looking at her husband with uneasiness, "how could that prevent M. De Villefort"--

"In this simple way, madame, " replied Monte Cristo; "the waistcoat andthe letter were both what is termed circumstantial evidence; I thereforesent them to the king's attorney. You understand, my dear baron, thatlegal methods are the safest in criminal cases; it was, perhaps, some plot against you. " Andrea looked steadily at Monte Cristo anddisappeared in the second drawing-room.

"Possibly, " said Danglars; "was not this murdered man an oldgalley-slave?"

"Yes, " replied the count; "a felon named Caderousse. " Danglarsturned slightly pale; Andrea reached the anteroom beyond the littledrawing-room.

"But go on signing, " said Monte Cristo; "I perceive that my story hascaused a general emotion, and I beg to apologize to you, baroness, andto Mademoiselle Danglars. " The baroness, who had signed, returnedthe pen to the notary. "Prince Cavalcanti, " said the latter; "PrinceCavalcanti, where are you?"

"Andrea, Andrea, " repeated several young people, who were already onsufficiently intimate terms with him to call him by his Christian name.

"Call the prince; inform him that it is his turn to sign, " criedDanglars to one of the floorkeepers.

But at the same instant the crowd of guests rushed in alarm into theprincipal salon as if some frightful monster had entered the apartments, quaerens quem devoret. There was, indeed, reason to retreat, to bealarmed, and to scream. An officer was placing two soldiers at the doorof each drawing-room, and was advancing towards Danglars, preceded by acommissary of police, girded with his scarf. Madame Danglars uttered ascream and fainted. Danglars, who thought himself threatened (certainconsciences are never calm), --Danglars even before his guests showed acountenance of abject terror.

"What is the matter, sir?" asked Monte Cristo, advancing to meet thecommissioner.

"Which of you gentlemen, " asked the magistrate, without replying to thecount, "answers to the name of Andrea Cavalcanti?" A cry of astonishmentwas heard from all parts of the room. They searched; they questioned. "But who then is Andrea Cavalcanti?" asked Danglars in amazement.

"A galley-slave, escaped from confinement at Toulon. "

"And what crime has he committed?"

"He is accused, " said the commissary with his inflexible voice, "ofhaving assassinated the man named Caderousse, his former companion inprison, at the moment he was making his escape from the house of theCount of Monte Cristo. " Monte Cristo cast a rapid glance around him. Andrea was gone.

Chapter 97. The Departure for Belgium.

A few minutes after the scene of confusion produced in the salons of M. Danglars by the unexpected appearance of the brigade of soldiers, and bythe disclosure which had followed, the mansion was deserted with asmuch rapidity as if a case of plague or of cholera morbus had broken outamong the guests. In a few minutes, through all the doors, down all thestaircases, by every exit, every one hastened to retire, or rather tofly; for it was a situation where the ordinary condolences, --which eventhe best friends are so eager to offer in great catastrophes, --wereseen to be utterly futile. There remained in the banker's house onlyDanglars, closeted in his study, and making his statement to the officerof gendarmes; Madame Danglars, terrified, in the boudoir with which weare acquainted; and Eugenie, who with haughty air and disdainful lip hadretired to her room with her inseparable companion, Mademoiselle Louised'Armilly. As for the numerous servants (more numerous that evening thanusual, for their number was augmented by cooks and butlers from the Cafede Paris), venting on their employers their anger at what they termedthe insult to which they had been subjected, they collected in groupsin the hall, in the kitchens, or in their rooms, thinking very little oftheir duty, which was thus naturally interrupted. Of all this household, only two persons deserve our notice; these are Mademoiselle EugenieDanglars and Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly.

The betrothed had retired, as we said, with haughty air, disdainful lip, and the demeanor of an outraged queen, followed by her companion, whowas paler and more disturbed than herself. On reaching her room Eugenielocked her door, while Louise fell on a chair. "Ah, what a dreadfulthing, " said the young musician; "who would have suspected it? M. AndreaCavalcanti a murderer--a galley-slave escaped--a convict!" An ironicalsmile curled the lip of Eugenie. "In truth I was fated, " said she. "Iescaped the Morcerf only to fall into the Cavalcanti. "

"Oh, do not confound the two, Eugenie. "

"Hold your tongue! The men are all infamous, and I am happy to be ablenow to do more than detest them--I despise them. "

"What shall we do?" asked Louise.

"What shall we do?"

"Yes. "

"Why, the same we had intended doing three days since--set off. "

"What?--although you are not now going to be married, you intendstill"--

"Listen, Louise. I hate this life of the fashionable world, alwaysordered, measured, ruled, like our music-paper. What I have alwayswished for, desired, and coveted, is the life of an artist, free andindependent, relying only on my own resources, and accountable only tomyself. Remain here? What for?--that they may try, a month hence, to marry me again; and to whom?--M. Debray, perhaps, as it was onceproposed. No, Louise, no! This evening's adventure will serve for myexcuse. I did not seek one, I did not ask for one. God sends me this, and I hail it joyfully!"

"How strong and courageous you are!" said the fair, frail girl to herbrunette companion.

"Did you not yet know me? Come, Louise, let us talk of our affairs. Thepost-chaise"--

"Was happily bought three days since. "

"Have you had it sent where we are to go for it?"

"Yes. "

"Our passport?"

"Here it is. "

And Eugenie, with her usual precision, opened a printed paper, andread, --

"M. Leon d'Armilly, twenty years of age; profession, artist; hair black, eyes black; travelling with his sister. "

"Capital! How did you get this passport?"

"When I went to ask M. De Monte Cristo for letters to the directors ofthe theatres at Rome and Naples, I expressed my fears of travelling asa woman; he perfectly understood them, and undertook to procure for mea man's passport, and two days after I received this, to which I haveadded with my own hand, 'travelling with his sister. '"

"Well, " said Eugenie cheerfully, "we have then only to pack up ourtrunks; we shall start the evening of the signing of the contract, instead of the evening of the wedding--that is all. "

"But consider the matter seriously, Eugenie!"

"Oh, I am done with considering! I am tired of hearing only of marketreports, of the end of the month, of the rise and fall of Spanish funds, of Haitian bonds. Instead of that, Louise--do you understand?--air, liberty, melody of birds, plains of Lombardy, Venetian canals, Romanpalaces, the Bay of Naples. How much have we, Louise?" The young girl towhom this question was addressed drew from an inlaid secretary a smallportfolio with a lock, in which she counted twenty-three bank-notes.

"Twenty-three thousand francs, " said she.

"And as much, at least, in pearls, diamonds, and jewels, " saidEugenie. "We are rich. With forty-five thousand francs we can livelike princesses for two years, and comfortably for four; but before sixmonths--you with your music, and I with my voice--we shall double ourcapital. Come, you shall take charge of the money, I of the jewel-box;so that if one of us had the misfortune to lose her treasure, the otherwould still have hers left. Now, the portmanteau--let us make haste--theportmanteau!"

"Stop!" said Louise, going to listen at Madame Danglars' door.

"What do you fear?"

"That we may be discovered. "

"The door is locked. "

"They may tell us to open it. "

"They may if they like, but we will not. "

"You are a perfect Amazon, Eugenie!" And the two young girls beganto heap into a trunk all the things they thought they should require. "There now, " said Eugenie, "while I change my costume do you lock theportmanteau. " Louise pressed with all the strength of her little handson the top of the portmanteau. "But I cannot, " said she; "I am notstrong enough; do you shut it. "

"Ah, you do well to ask, " said Eugenie, laughing; "I forgot that I wasHercules, and you only the pale Omphale!" And the young girl, kneelingon the top, pressed the two parts of the portmanteau together, andMademoiselle d'Armilly passed the bolt of the padlock through. When thiswas done, Eugenie opened a drawer, of which she kept the key, and tookfrom it a wadded violet silk travelling cloak. "Here, " said she, "yousee I have thought of everything; with this cloak you will not be cold. "

"But you?"

"Oh, I am never cold, you know! Besides, with these men's clothes"--

"Will you dress here?"

"Certainly. "

"Shall you have time?"

"Do not be uneasy, you little coward! All our servants are busy, discussing the grand affair. Besides, what is there astonishing, whenyou think of the grief I ought to be in, that I shut myself up?--tellme!"

"No, truly--you comfort me. "

"Come and help me. "

From the same drawer she took a man's complete costume, from theboots to the coat, and a provision of linen, where there was nothingsuperfluous, but every requisite. Then, with a promptitude whichindicated that this was not the first time she had amused herself byadopting the garb of the opposite sex, Eugenie drew on the boots andpantaloons, tied her cravat, buttoned her waistcoat up to the throat, and put on a coat which admirably fitted her beautiful figure. "Oh, thatis very good--indeed, it is very good!" said Louise, looking at her withadmiration; "but that beautiful black hair, those magnificent braids, which made all the ladies sigh with envy, --will they go under a man'shat like the one I see down there?"

"You shall see, " said Eugenie. And with her left hand seizing the thickmass, which her long fingers could scarcely grasp, she took in her righthand a pair of long scissors, and soon the steel met through the richand splendid hair, which fell in a cluster at her feet as she leanedback to keep it from her coat. Then she grasped the front hair, whichshe also cut off, without expressing the least regret; on the contrary, her eyes sparkled with greater pleasure than usual under her ebonyeyebrows. "Oh, the magnificent hair!" said Louise, with regret.

"And am I not a hundred times better thus?" cried Eugenie, smoothing thescattered curls of her hair, which had now quite a masculine appearance;"and do you not think me handsomer so?"

"Oh, you are beautiful--always beautiful!" cried Louise. "Now, where areyou going?"

"To Brussels, if you like; it is the nearest frontier. We can go toBrussels, Liege, Aix-la-Chapelle; then up the Rhine to Strasburg. Wewill cross Switzerland, and go down into Italy by the Saint-Gothard. Will that do?"

"Yes. "

"What are you looking at?"

"I am looking at you; indeed you are adorable like that! One would sayyou were carrying me off. "

"And they would be right, pardieu!"

"Oh, I think you swore, Eugenie. " And the two young girls, whom everyone might have thought plunged in grief, the one on her own account, theother from interest in her friend, burst out laughing, as they clearedaway every visible trace of the disorder which had naturally accompaniedthe preparations for their escape. Then, having blown out the lights, the two fugitives, looking and listening eagerly, with outstretchednecks, opened the door of a dressing-room which led by a side staircasedown to the yard, --Eugenie going first, and holding with one armthe portmanteau, which by the opposite handle Mademoiselle d'Armillyscarcely raised with both hands. The yard was empty; the clock wasstriking twelve. The porter was not yet gone to bed. Eugenie approachedsoftly, and saw the old man sleeping soundly in an arm-chair in hislodge. She returned to Louise, took up the portmanteau, which she hadplaced for a moment on the ground, and they reached the archway underthe shadow of the wall.

Eugenie concealed Louise in an angle of the gateway, so that if theporter chanced to awake he might see but one person. Then placingherself in the full light of the lamp which lit the yard, --"Gate!" criedshe, with her finest contralto voice, and rapping at the window.

The porter got up as Eugenie expected, and even advanced some steps torecognize the person who was going out, but seeing a young man strikinghis boot impatiently with his riding-whip, he opened it immediately. Louise slid through the half-open gate like a snake, and bounded lightlyforward. Eugenie, apparently calm, although in all probability her heartbeat somewhat faster than usual, went out in her turn. A porter waspassing and they gave him the portmanteau; then the two young girls, having told him to take it to No. 36, Rue de la Victoire, walked behindthis man, whose presence comforted Louise. As for Eugenie, she was asstrong as a Judith or a Delilah. They arrived at the appointed spot. Eugenie ordered the porter to put down the portmanteau, gave him somepieces of money, and having rapped at the shutter sent him away. Theshutter where Eugenie had rapped was that of a little laundress, whohad been previously warned, and was not yet gone to bed. She opened thedoor.

"Mademoiselle, " said Eugenie, "let the porter get the post-chaise fromthe coach-house, and fetch some post-horses from the hotel. Here arefive francs for his trouble. "

"Indeed, " said Louise, "I admire you, and I could almost say respectyou. " The laundress looked on in astonishment, but as she had beenpromised twenty louis, she made no remark.

In a quarter of an hour the porter returned with a post-boy and horses, which were harnessed, and put in the post-chaise in a minute, while theporter fastened the portmanteau on with the assistance of a cord andstrap. "Here is the passport, " said the postilion, "which way are wegoing, young gentleman?"

"To Fontainebleau, " replied Eugenie with an almost masculine voice.

"What do you say?" said Louise.

"I am giving them the slip, " said Eugenie; "this woman to whom we havegiven twenty louis may betray us for forty; we will soon alter ourdirection. " And the young girl jumped into the britzska, which wasadmirably arranged for sleeping in, without scarcely touching the step. "You are always right, " said the music teacher, seating herself by theside of her friend.

A quarter of an hour afterwards the postilion, having been put in theright road, passed with a crack of his whip through the gateway of theBarriere Saint-Martin. "Ah, " said Louise, breathing freely, "here we areout of Paris. "

"Yes, my dear, the abduction is an accomplished fact, " replied Eugenie. "Yes, and without violence, " said Louise.

"I shall bring that forward as an extenuating circumstance, " repliedEugenie. These words were lost in the noise which the carriage made inrolling over the pavement of La Villette. M. Danglars no longer had adaughter.

Chapter 98. The Bell and Bottle Tavern.

And now let us leave Mademoiselle Danglars and her friend pursuing theirway to Brussels, and return to poor Andrea Cavalcanti, so inopportunelyinterrupted in his rise to fortune. Notwithstanding his youth, MasterAndrea was a very skilful and intelligent boy. We have seen that onthe first rumor which reached the salon he had gradually approached thedoor, and crossing two or three rooms at last disappeared. But we haveforgotten to mention one circumstance, which nevertheless ought notto be omitted; in one of the rooms he crossed, the trousseau of thebride-elect was on exhibition. There were caskets of diamonds, cashmereshawls, Valenciennes lace, English veilings, and in fact all thetempting things, the bare mention of which makes the hearts of younggirls bound with joy, and which is called the "corbeille. " [*] Now, inpassing through this room, Andrea proved himself not only to be cleverand intelligent, but also provident, for he helped himself to the mostvaluable of the ornaments before him.

* Literally, "the basket, " because wedding gifts were originally brought in such a receptacle.

Furnished with this plunder, Andrea leaped with a lighter heart from thewindow, intending to slip through the hands of the gendarmes. Tall andwell proportioned as an ancient gladiator, and muscular as a Spartan, he walked for a quarter of an hour without knowing where to direct hissteps, actuated by the sole idea of getting away from the spot where ifhe lingered he knew that he would surely be taken. Having passed throughthe Rue Mont Blanc, guided by the instinct which leads thieves always totake the safest path, he found himself at the end of the Rue Lafayette. There he stopped, breathless and panting. He was quite alone; on oneside was the vast wilderness of the Saint-Lazare, on the other, Parisenshrouded in darkness. "Am I to be captured?" he cried; "no, not if Ican use more activity than my enemies. My safety is now a mere questionof speed. " At this moment he saw a cab at the top of the FaubourgPoissonniere. The dull driver, smoking his pipe, was plodding alongtoward the limits of the Faubourg Saint-Denis, where no doubt heordinarily had his station. "Ho, friend!" said Benedetto.

"What do you want, sir?" asked the driver.

"Is your horse tired?"

"Tired? oh, yes, tired enough--he has done nothing the whole of thisblessed day! Four wretched fares, and twenty sous over, making in allseven francs, are all that I have earned, and I ought to take ten to theowner. "

"Will you add these twenty francs to the seven you have?"

"With pleasure, sir; twenty francs are not to be despised. Tell me whatI am to do for this. "

"A very easy thing, if your horse isn't tired. "

"I tell you he'll go like the wind, --only tell me which way to drive. "

"Towards the Louvres. "

"Ah, I know the way--you get good sweetened rum over there. "

"Exactly so; I merely wish to overtake one of my friends, with whom I amgoing to hunt to-morrow at Chapelle-en-Serval. He should have waited forme here with a cabriolet till half-past eleven; it is twelve, and, tiredof waiting, he must have gone on. "

"It is likely. "

"Well, will you try and overtake him?"

"Nothing I should like better. "

"If you do not overtake him before we reach Bourget you shall havetwenty francs; if not before Louvres, thirty. "

"And if we do overtake him?"

"Forty, " said Andrea, after a moment's hesitation, at the end of whichhe remembered that he might safely promise. "That's all right, " said theman; "hop in, and we're off! Who-o-o-p, la!"

Andrea got into the cab, which passed rapidly through the FaubourgSaint-Denis, along the Faubourg Saint-Martin, crossed the barrier, andthreaded its way through the interminable Villette. They never overtookthe chimerical friend, yet Andrea frequently inquired of people on footwhom he passed and at the inns which were not yet closed, for a greencabriolet and bay horse; and as there are a great many cabriolets to beseen on the road to the Low Countries, and as nine-tenths of them aregreen, the inquiries increased at every step. Every one had just seenit pass; it was only five hundred, two hundred, one hundred steps inadvance; at length they reached it, but it was not the friend. Oncethe cab was also passed by a calash rapidly whirled along by twopost-horses. "Ah, " said Cavalcanti to himself, "if I only had thatbritzska, those two good post-horses, and above all the passportthat carries them on!" And he sighed deeply. The calash containedMademoiselle Danglars and Mademoiselle d'Armilly. "Hurry, hurry!" saidAndrea, "we must overtake him soon. " And the poor horse resumed thedesperate gallop it had kept up since leaving the barrier, and arrivedsteaming at Louvres.

"Certainly, " said Andrea, "I shall not overtake my friend, but I shallkill your horse, therefore I had better stop. Here are thirty francs; Iwill sleep at the Red Horse, and will secure a place in the first coach. Good-night, friend. " And Andrea, after placing six pieces of five francseach in the man's hand, leaped lightly on to the pathway. The cabmanjoyfully pocketed the sum, and turned back on his road to Paris. Andreapretended to go towards the Red Horse inn, but after leaning an instantagainst the door, and hearing the last sound of the cab, which wasdisappearing from view, he went on his road, and with a lusty stridesoon traversed the space of two leagues. Then he rested; he must be nearChapelle-en-Serval, where he pretended to be going. It was not fatiguethat stayed Andrea here; it was that he might form some resolution, adopt some plan. It would be impossible to make use of a diligence, equally so to engage post-horses; to travel either way a passport wasnecessary. It was still more impossible to remain in the department ofthe Oise, one of the most open and strictly guarded in France; this wasquite out of the question, especially to a man like Andrea, perfectlyconversant with criminal matters.

He sat down by the side of the moat, buried his face in his hands andreflected. Ten minutes after he raised his head; his resolution wasmade. He threw some dust over the topcoat, which he had found time tounhook from the ante-chamber and button over his ball costume, and goingto Chapelle-en-Serval he knocked loudly at the door of the only inn inthe place. The host opened. "My friend, " said Andrea, "I was coming fromMontefontaine to Senlis, when my horse, which is a troublesome creature, stumbled and threw me. I must reach Compiegne to-night, or I shall causedeep anxiety to my family. Could you let me hire a horse of you?"

An inn-keeper has always a horse to let, whether it be good or bad. Thehost called the stable-boy, and ordered him to saddle "Whitey, " then heawoke his son, a child of seven years, whom he ordered to ride beforethe gentleman and bring back the horse. Andrea gave the inn-keepertwenty francs, and in taking them from his pocket dropped a visitingcard. This belonged to one of his friends at the Cafe de Paris, so thatthe innkeeper, picking it up after Andrea had left, was convinced thathe had let his horse to the Count of Mauleon, 25 Rue Saint-Dominique, that being the name and address on the card. "Whitey" was not a fastanimal, but he kept up an easy, steady pace; in three hours and ahalf Andrea had traversed the nine leagues which separated him fromCompiegne, and four o'clock struck as he reached the place where thecoaches stop. There is an excellent tavern at Compiegne, well rememberedby those who have ever been there. Andrea, who had often stayed therein his rides about Paris, recollected the Bell and Bottle inn; heturned around, saw the sign by the light of a reflected lamp, and havingdismissed the child, giving him all the small coin he had about him, hebegan knocking at the door, very reasonably concluding that having nowthree or four hours before him he had best fortify himself against thefatigues of the morrow by a sound sleep and a good supper. A waiteropened the door.

"My friend, " said Andrea, "I have been dining at Saint-Jean-au-Bois, andexpected to catch the coach which passes by at midnight, but like a foolI have lost my way, and have been walking for the last four hours in theforest. Show me into one of those pretty little rooms which overlook thecourt, and bring me a cold fowl and a bottle of Bordeaux. " The waiterhad no suspicions; Andrea spoke with perfect composure, he had a cigarin his mouth, and his hands in the pocket of his top coat; his clotheswere fashionably made, his chin smooth, his boots irreproachable; helooked merely as if he had stayed out very late, that was all. Whilethe waiter was preparing his room, the hostess arose; Andrea assumedhis most charming smile, and asked if he could have No. 3, which he hadoccupied on his last stay at Compiegne. Unfortunately, No. 3 was engagedby a young man who was travelling with his sister. Andrea appeared indespair, but consoled himself when the hostess assured him that No. 7, prepared for him, was situated precisely the same as No. 3, and whilewarming his feet and chatting about the last races at Chantilly, hewaited until they announced his room to be ready.

Andrea had not spoken without cause of the pretty rooms looking out uponthe court of the Bell Tavern, which with its triple galleries like thoseof a theatre, with the jessamine and clematis twining round the lightcolumns, forms one of the prettiest entrances to an inn that youcan imagine. The fowl was tender, the wine old, the fire clear andsparkling, and Andrea was surprised to find himself eating with as goodan appetite as though nothing had happened. Then he went to bed andalmost immediately fell into that deep sleep which is sure to visit menof twenty years of age, even when they are torn with remorse. Now, herewe are obliged to own that Andrea ought to have felt remorse, but thathe did not. This was the plan which had appealed to him to afford thebest chance of his security. Before daybreak he would awake, leave theinn after rigorously paying his bill, and reaching the forest, he would, under pretence of making studies in painting, test the hospitality ofsome peasants, procure himself the dress of a woodcutter and a hatchet, casting off the lion's skin to assume that of the woodman; then, withhis hands covered with dirt, his hair darkened by means of a leadencomb, his complexion embrowned with a preparation for which one of hisold comrades had given him the recipe, he intended, by following thewooded districts, to reach the nearest frontier, walking by night andsleeping in the day in the forests and quarries, and only enteringinhabited regions to buy a loaf from time to time.

Once past the frontier, Andrea proposed making money of his diamonds;and by uniting the proceeds to ten bank-notes he always carried aboutwith him in case of accident, he would then find himself possessor ofabout 50, 000 livres, which he philosophically considered as no verydeplorable condition after all. Moreover, he reckoned much onthe interest of the Danglars to hush up the rumor of their ownmisadventures. These were the reasons which, added to the fatigue, caused Andrea to sleep so soundly. In order that he might awaken earlyhe did not close the shutters, but contented himself with bolting thedoor and placing on the table an unclasped and long-pointed knife, whosetemper he well knew, and which was never absent from him. About seven inthe morning Andrea was awakened by a ray of sunlight, which played, warm and brilliant, upon his face. In all well-organized brains, thepredominating idea--and there always is one--is sure to be the lastthought before sleeping, and the first upon waking in the morning. Andrea had scarcely opened his eyes when his predominating ideapresented itself, and whispered in his ear that he had slept too long. He jumped out of bed and ran to the window. A gendarme was crossing thecourt. A gendarme is one of the most striking objects in the world, evento a man void of uneasiness; but for one who has a timid conscience, andwith good cause too, the yellow, blue, and white uniform is really veryalarming.

"Why is that gendarme there?" asked Andrea of himself. Then, all atonce, he replied, with that logic which the reader has, doubtless, remarked in him, "There is nothing astonishing in seeing a gendarme atan inn; instead of being astonished, let me dress myself. " And the youthdressed himself with a facility his valet de chambre had failed to robhim of during the two months of fashionable life he had led in Paris. "Now then, " said Andrea, while dressing himself, "I'll wait till heleaves, and then I'll slip away. " And, saying this, Andrea, who had nowput on his boots and cravat, stole gently to the window, and a secondtime lifted up the muslin curtain. Not only was the first gendarme stillthere, but the young man now perceived a second yellow, blue, and whiteuniform at the foot of the staircase, the only one by which he coulddescend, while a third, on horseback, holding a musket in his fist, wasposted as a sentinel at the great street door which alone afforded themeans of egress.



The appearance of the third gendarme settled the matter, for a crowdof curious loungers was extended before him, effectually blocking theentrance to the hotel. "They're after me!" was Andrea's first thought. "The devil!" A pallor overspread the young man's forehead, and he lookedaround him with anxiety. His room, like all those on the same floor, hadbut one outlet to the gallery in the sight of everybody. "I am lost!"was his second thought; and, indeed, for a man in Andrea's situation, an arrest meant the assizes, trial, and death, --death without mercy ordelay. For a moment he convulsively pressed his head within his hands, and during that brief period he became nearly mad with terror; but soona ray of hope glimmered in the multitude of thoughts which bewilderedhis mind, and a faint smile played upon his white lips and pallidcheeks. He looked around and saw the objects of his search upon thechimney-piece; they were a pen, ink, and paper. With forced composure hedipped the pen in the ink, and wrote the following lines upon a sheet ofpaper:--

"I have no money to pay my bill, but I am not a dishonest man; I leavebehind me as a pledge this pin, worth ten times the amount. I shall beexcused for leaving at daybreak, for I was ashamed. "

He then drew the pin from his cravat and placed it on the paper. Thisdone, instead of leaving the door fastened, he drew back the bolts andeven placed the door ajar, as though he had left the room, forgettingto close it, and slipping into the chimney like a man accustomed to thatkind of gymnastic exercise, having effaced the marks of his feet uponthe floor, he commenced climbing the only opening which afforded himthe means of escape. At this precise time, the first gendarme Andreahad noticed walked up-stairs, preceded by the commissary of police, and supported by the second gendarme who guarded the staircase and washimself re-enforced by the one stationed at the door.

Andrea was indebted for this visit to the following circumstances. Atdaybreak, the telegraphs were set at work in all directions, and almostimmediately the authorities in every district had exerted their utmostendeavors to arrest the murderer of Caderousse. Compiegne, that royalresidence and fortified town, is well furnished with authorities, gendarmes, and commissaries of police; they therefore began operationsas soon as the telegraphic despatch arrived, and the Bell and Bottlebeing the best-known hotel in the town, they had naturally directedtheir first inquiries there.

Now, besides the reports of the sentinels guarding the Hotel de Ville, which is next door to the Bell and Bottle, it had been stated by othersthat a number of travellers had arrived during the night. The sentinelwho was relieved at six o'clock in the morning, remembered perfectlythat just as he was taking his post a few minutes past four a youngman arrived on horseback, with a little boy before him. The young man, having dismissed the boy and horse, knocked at the door of the hotel, which was opened, and again closed after his entrance. This late arrivalhad attracted much suspicion, and the young man being no other thanAndrea, the commissary and gendarme, who was a brigadier, directed theirsteps towards his room.

They found the door ajar. "Oh, ho, " said the brigadier, who thoroughlyunderstood the trick; "a bad sign to find the door open! I would ratherfind it triply bolted. " And, indeed, the little note and pin upon thetable confirmed, or rather corroborated, the sad truth. Andrea had fled. We say corroborated, because the brigadier was too experienced to beconvinced by a single proof. He glanced around, looked in the bed, shookthe curtains, opened the closets, and finally stopped at the chimney. Andrea had taken the precaution to leave no traces of his feet in theashes, but still it was an outlet, and in this light was not to bepassed over without serious investigation.

The brigadier sent for some sticks and straw, and having filled thechimney with them, set a light to it. The fire crackled, and the smokeascended like the dull vapor from a volcano; but still no prisoner felldown, as they expected. The fact was, that Andrea, at war with societyever since his youth, was quite as deep as a gendarme, even though hewere advanced to the rank of brigadier, and quite prepared for thefire, he had climbed out on the roof and was crouching down againstthe chimney-pots. At one time he thought he was saved, for he heardthe brigadier exclaim in a loud voice, to the two gendarmes, "He is nothere!" But venturing to peep, he perceived that the latter, instead ofretiring, as might have been reasonably expected upon this announcement, were watching with increased attention.

It was now his turn to look about him; the Hotel de Ville, a massivesixteenth century building, was on his right; any one could descend fromthe openings in the tower, and examine every corner of the roof below, and Andrea expected momentarily to see the head of a gendarme appear atone of these openings. If once discovered, he knew he would be lost, forthe roof afforded no chance of escape; he therefore resolved to descend, not through the same chimney by which he had come up, but by a similarone conducting to another room. He looked around for a chimney fromwhich no smoke issued, and having reached it, he disappeared through theorifice without being seen by any one. At the same minute, one of thelittle windows of the Hotel de Ville was thrown open, and the head of agendarme appeared. For an instant it remained motionless as one ofthe stone decorations of the building, then after a long sigh ofdisappointment the head disappeared. The brigadier, calm and dignifiedas the law he represented, passed through the crowd, without answeringthe thousand questions addressed to him, and re-entered the hotel.

"Well?" asked the two gendarmes.

"Well, my boys, " said the brigadier, "the brigand must really haveescaped early this morning; but we will send to the Villers-Coterets andNoyon roads, and search the forest, when we shall catch him, no doubt. "The honorable functionary had scarcely expressed himself thus, in thatintonation which is peculiar to brigadiers of the gendarmerie, when aloud scream, accompanied by the violent ringing of a bell, resoundedthrough the court of the hotel. "Ah, what is that?" cried the brigadier.

"Some traveller seems impatient, " said the host. "What number was itthat rang?"

"Number 3. "

"Run, waiter!" At this moment the screams and ringing were redoubled. "Ah, " said the brigadier, stopping the servant, "the person who isringing appears to want something more than a waiter; we will attendupon him with a gendarme. Who occupies Number 3?"

"The little fellow who arrived last night in a post-chaise with hissister, and who asked for an apartment with two beds. " The bell hererang for the third time, with another shriek of anguish.

"Follow me, Mr. Commissary!" said the brigadier; "tread in my steps. "

"Wait an instant, " said the host; "Number 3 has two staircases, --insideand outside. "

"Good, " said the brigadier. "I will take charge of the inside one. Arethe carbines loaded?"

"Yes, brigadier. "

"Well, you guard the exterior, and if he attempts to fly, fire upon him;he must be a great criminal, from what the telegraph says. "

The brigadier, followed by the commissary, disappeared by the insidestaircase, accompanied by the noise which his assertions respectingAndrea had excited in the crowd. This is what had happened. Andrea hadvery cleverly managed to descend two-thirds of the chimney, but then hisfoot slipped, and notwithstanding his endeavors, he came into the roomwith more speed and noise than he intended. It would have signifiedlittle had the room been empty, but unfortunately it was occupied. Twoladies, sleeping in one bed, were awakened by the noise, and fixingtheir eyes upon the spot whence the sound proceeded, they saw a man. One of these ladies, the fair one, uttered those terrible shrieks whichresounded through the house, while the other, rushing to the bell-rope, rang with all her strength. Andrea, as we can see, was surrounded bymisfortune.

"For pity's sake, " he cried, pale and bewildered, without seeing whomhe was addressing, --"for pity's sake do not call assistance! Save me!--Iwill not harm you. "

"Andrea, the murderer!" cried one of the ladies.

"Eugenie! Mademoiselle Danglars!" exclaimed Andrea, stupefied.

"Help, help!" cried Mademoiselle d'Armilly, taking the bell from hercompanion's hand, and ringing it yet more violently. "Save me, I ampursued!" said Andrea, clasping his hands. "For pity, for mercy's sakedo not deliver me up!"

"It is too late, they are coming, " said Eugenie.

"Well, conceal me somewhere; you can say you were needlessly alarmed;you can turn their suspicions and save my life!"

The two ladies, pressing closely to one another, and drawing thebedclothes tightly around them, remained silent to this supplicatingvoice, repugnance and fear taking possession of their minds.

"Well, be it so, " at length said Eugenie; "return by the same road youcame, and we will say nothing about you, unhappy wretch. "

"Here he is, here he is!" cried a voice from the landing; "here he is!I see him!" The brigadier had put his eye to the keyhole, and haddiscovered Andrea in a posture of entreaty. A violent blow from the buttend of the musket burst open the lock, two more forced out the bolts, and the broken door fell in. Andrea ran to the other door, leading tothe gallery, ready to rush out; but he was stopped short, and he stoodwith his body a little thrown back, pale, and with the useless knife inhis clinched hand.

"Fly, then!" cried Mademoiselle d'Armilly, whose pity returned as herfears diminished; "fly!"

"Or kill yourself!" said Eugenie (in a tone which a Vestal in theamphitheatre would have used, when urging the victorious gladiator tofinish his vanquished adversary). Andrea shuddered, and looked on theyoung girl with an expression which proved how little he understood suchferocious honor. "Kill myself?" he cried, throwing down his knife; "whyshould I do so?"

"Why, you said, " answered Mademoiselle Danglars, "that you would becondemned to die like the worst criminals. "

"Bah, " said Cavalcanti, crossing his arms, "one has friends. "

The brigadier advanced to him, sword in hand. "Come, come, " said Andrea, "sheathe your sword, my fine fellow; there is no occasion to make such afuss, since I give myself up;" and he held out his hands to be manacled. The girls looked with horror upon this shameful metamorphosis, the manof the world shaking off his covering and appearing as a galley-slave. Andrea turned towards them, and with an impertinent smile asked, --"Haveyou any message for your father, Mademoiselle Danglars, for in allprobability I shall return to Paris?"

Eugenie covered her face with her hands. "Oh, ho!" said Andrea, "youneed not be ashamed, even though you did post after me. Was I not nearlyyour husband?"

And with this raillery Andrea went out, leaving the two girls a prey totheir own feelings of shame, and to the comments of the crowd. An hourafter they stepped into their calash, both dressed in feminine attire. The gate of the hotel had been closed to screen them from sight, butthey were forced, when the door was open, to pass through a throng ofcurious glances and whispering voices. Eugenie closed her eyes; butthough she could not see, she could hear, and the sneers of the crowdreached her in the carriage. "Oh, why is not the world a wilderness?"she exclaimed, throwing herself into the arms of Mademoiselle d'Armilly, her eyes sparkling with the same kind of rage which made Nero wish thatthe Roman world had but one neck, that he might sever it at a singleblow. The next day they stopped at the Hotel de Flandre, at Brussels. The same evening Andrea was incarcerated in the Conciergerie.

Chapter 99. The Law.

We have seen how quietly Mademoiselle Danglars and Mademoiselled'Armilly accomplished their transformation and flight; the fact beingthat every one was too much occupied in his or her own affairs to thinkof theirs. We will leave the banker contemplating the enormous magnitudeof his debt before the phantom of bankruptcy, and follow the baroness, who after being momentarily crushed under the weight of the blow whichhad struck her, had gone to seek her usual adviser, Lucien Debray. Thebaroness had looked forward to this marriage as a means of ridding herof a guardianship which, over a girl of Eugenie's character, could notfail to be rather a troublesome undertaking; for in the tacit relationswhich maintain the bond of family union, the mother, to maintain herascendancy over her daughter, must never fail to be a model of wisdomand a type of perfection.

Now, Madame Danglars feared Eugenie's sagacity and the influence ofMademoiselle d'Armilly; she had frequently observed the contemptuousexpression with which her daughter looked upon Debray, --an expressionwhich seemed to imply that she understood all her mother's amorous andpecuniary relationships with the intimate secretary; moreover, shesaw that Eugenie detested Debray, --not only because he was a source ofdissension and scandal under the paternal roof, but because she had atonce classed him in that catalogue of bipeds whom Plato endeavors towithdraw from the appellation of men, and whom Diogenes designated asanimals upon two legs without feathers.

Unfortunately, in this world of ours, each person views things througha certain medium, and so is prevented from seeing in the same light asothers, and Madame Danglars, therefore, very much regretted that themarriage of Eugenie had not taken place, not only because the match wasgood, and likely to insure the happiness of her child, but because itwould also set her at liberty. She ran therefore to Debray, who, afterhaving like the rest of Paris witnessed the contract scene and thescandal attending it, had retired in haste to his club, where he waschatting with some friends upon the events which served as a subject ofconversation for three-fourths of that city known as the capital of theworld.

At the precise time when Madame Danglars, dressed in black andconcealed in a long veil, was ascending the stairs leading to Debray'sapartments, --notwithstanding the assurances of the concierge thatthe young man was not at home, --Debray was occupied in repelling theinsinuations of a friend, who tried to persuade him that after theterrible scene which had just taken place he ought, as a friend of thefamily, to marry Mademoiselle Danglars and her two millions. Debray didnot defend himself very warmly, for the idea had sometimes crossedhis mind; still, when he recollected the independent, proud spirit ofEugenie, he positively rejected it as utterly impossible, though thesame thought again continually recurred and found a resting-place inhis heart. Tea, play, and the conversation, which had become interestingduring the discussion of such serious affairs, lasted till one o'clockin the morning.

Meanwhile Madame Danglars, veiled and uneasy, awaited the return ofDebray in the little green room, seated between two baskets of flowers, which she had that morning sent, and which, it must be confessed, Debrayhad himself arranged and watered with so much care that his absence washalf excused in the eyes of the poor woman.

At twenty minutes of twelve, Madame Danglars, tired of waiting, returnedhome. Women of a certain grade are like prosperous grisettes in onerespect, they seldom return home after twelve o'clock. The baronessreturned to the hotel with as much caution as Eugenie used in leavingit; she ran lightly up-stairs, and with an aching heart entered herapartment, contiguous, as we know, to that of Eugenie. She was fearfulof exciting any remark, and believed firmly in her daughter's innocenceand fidelity to the paternal roof. She listened at Eugenie's door, andhearing no sound tried to enter, but the bolts were in place. MadameDanglars then concluded that the young girl had been overcome with theterrible excitement of the evening, and had gone to bed and to sleep. She called the maid and questioned her.

"Mademoiselle Eugenie, " said the maid, "retired to her apartment withMademoiselle d'Armilly; they then took tea together, after which theydesired me to leave, saying that they needed me no longer. " Since thenthe maid had been below, and like every one else she thought the youngladies were in their own room; Madame Danglars, therefore, went to bedwithout a shadow of suspicion, and began to muse over the recent events. In proportion as her memory became clearer, the occurrences of theevening were revealed in their true light; what she had taken forconfusion was a tumult; what she had regarded as something distressing, was in reality a disgrace. And then the baroness remembered that she hadfelt no pity for poor Mercedes, who had been afflicted with as severe ablow through her husband and son.

"Eugenie, " she said to herself, "is lost, and so are we. The affair, asit will be reported, will cover us with shame; for in a society such asours satire inflicts a painful and incurable wound. How fortunate thatEugenie is possessed of that strange character which has so oftenmade me tremble!" And her glance was turned towards heaven, where amysterious providence disposes all things, and out of a fault, nay, evena vice, sometimes produces a blessing. And then her thoughts, cleavingthrough space like a bird in the air, rested on Cavalcanti. This Andreawas a wretch, a robber, an assassin, and yet his manners showed theeffects of a sort of education, if not a complete one; he had beenpresented to the world with the appearance of an immense fortune, supported by an honorable name. How could she extricate herself fromthis labyrinth? To whom would she apply to help her out of this painfulsituation? Debray, to whom she had run, with the first instinct of awoman towards the man she loves, and who yet betrays her, --Debray couldbut give her advice, she must apply to some one more powerful than he.

The baroness then thought of M. De Villefort. It was M. De Villefort whohad remorselessly brought misfortune into her family, as though theyhad been strangers. But, no; on reflection, the procureur was not amerciless man; and it was not the magistrate, slave to his duties, butthe friend, the loyal friend, who roughly but firmly cut into the verycore of the corruption; it was not the executioner, but the surgeon, whowished to withdraw the honor of Danglars from ignominious associationwith the disgraced young man they had presented to the world as theirson-in-law. And since Villefort, the friend of Danglars, had acted inthis way, no one could suppose that he had been previously acquaintedwith, or had lent himself to, any of Andrea's intrigues. Villefort'sconduct, therefore, upon reflection, appeared to the baroness asif shaped for their mutual advantage. But the inflexibility of theprocureur should stop there; she would see him the next day, and if shecould not make him fail in his duties as a magistrate, she would, atleast, obtain all the indulgence he could allow. She would invokethe past, recall old recollections; she would supplicate him by theremembrance of guilty, yet happy days. M. De Villefort would stifle theaffair; he had only to turn his eyes on one side, and allow Andrea tofly, and follow up the crime under that shadow of guilt called contemptof court. And after this reasoning she slept easily.

At nine o'clock next morning she arose, and without ringing for her maidor giving the least sign of her activity, she dressed herself in thesame simple style as on the previous night; then running down-stairs, she left the hotel, walked to the Rue de Provence, called a cab, anddrove to M. De Villefort's house. For the last month this wretched househad presented the gloomy appearance of a lazaretto infected with theplague. Some of the apartments were closed within and without; theshutters were only opened to admit a minute's air, showing the scaredface of a footman, and immediately afterwards the window would beclosed, like a gravestone falling on a sepulchre, and the neighborswould say to each other in a low voice, "Will there be another funeralto-day at the procureur's house?" Madame Danglars involuntarilyshuddered at the desolate aspect of the mansion; descending from thecab, she approached the door with trembling knees, and rang the bell. Three times did the bell ring with a dull, heavy sound, seeming toparticipate, in the general sadness, before the concierge appeared andpeeped through the door, which he opened just wide enough to allow hiswords to be heard. He saw a lady, a fashionable, elegantly dressed lady, and yet the door remained almost closed.

"Do you intend opening the door?" said the baroness.

"First, madame, who are you?"

"Who am I? You know me well enough. "

"We no longer know any one, madame. "

"You must be mad, my friend, " said the baroness.

"Where do you come from?"

"Oh, this is too much!"

"Madame, these are my orders; excuse me. Your name?"

"The baroness Danglars; you have seen me twenty times. "

"Possibly, madame. And now, what do you want?"

"Oh, how extraordinary! I shall complain to M. De Villefort of theimpertinence of his servants. "

"Madame, this is precaution, not impertinence; no one enters herewithout an order from M. D'Avrigny, or without speaking to theprocureur. "

"Well, I have business with the procureur. "

"Is it pressing business?"

"You can imagine so, since I have not even brought my carriage out yet. But enough of this--here is my card, take it to your master. "

"Madame will await my return?"

"Yes; go. " The concierge closed the door, leaving Madame Danglars inthe street. She had not long to wait; directly afterwards the door wasopened wide enough to admit her, and when she had passed through, it wasagain shut. Without losing sight of her for an instant, the conciergetook a whistle from his pocket as soon as they entered the court, andblew it. The valet de chambre appeared on the door-steps. "You willexcuse this poor fellow, madame, " he said, as he preceded the baroness, "but his orders are precise, and M. De Villefort begged me to tell youthat he could not act otherwise. "

In the court showing his merchandise, was a tradesman who had beenadmitted with the same precautions. The baroness ascended the steps; shefelt herself strongly infected with the sadness which seemed to magnifyher own, and still guided by the valet de chambre, who never lost sightof her for an instant, she was introduced to the magistrate's study. Preoccupied as Madame Danglars had been with the object of her visit, the treatment she had received from these underlings appeared to her soinsulting, that she began by complaining of it. But Villefort, raisinghis head, bowed down by grief, looked up at her with so sad a smile thather complaints died upon her lips. "Forgive my servants, " he said, "fora terror I cannot blame them for; from being suspected they have becomesuspicious. "

Madame Danglars had often heard of the terror to which the magistratealluded, but without the evidence of her own eyesight she could neverhave believed that the sentiment had been carried so far. "You too, then, are unhappy?" she said. "Yes, madame, " replied the magistrate.

"Then you pity me!"

"Sincerely, madame. "

"And you understand what brings me here?"

"You wish to speak to me about the circumstance which has justhappened?"

"Yes, sir, --a fearful misfortune. "

"You mean a mischance. "

"A mischance?" repeated the baroness.

"Alas, madame, " said the procureur with his imperturbable calmness ofmanner, "I consider those alone misfortunes which are irreparable. "

"And do you suppose this will be forgotten?"

"Everything will be forgotten, madame, " said Villefort. "Your daughterwill be married to-morrow, if not to-day--in a week, if not to-morrow;and I do not think you can regret the intended husband of yourdaughter. "

Madame Danglars gazed on Villefort, stupefied to find him so almostinsultingly calm. "Am I come to a friend?" she asked in a tone full ofmournful dignity. "You know that you are, madame, " said Villefort, whosepale cheeks became slightly flushed as he gave her the assurance. Andtruly this assurance carried him back to different events from those nowoccupying the baroness and him. "Well, then, be more affectionate, mydear Villefort, " said the baroness. "Speak to me not as a magistrate, but as a friend; and when I am in bitter anguish of spirit, do not tellme that I ought to be gay. " Villefort bowed. "When I hear misfortunesnamed, madame, " he said, "I have within the last few months contractedthe bad habit of thinking of my own, and then I cannot help drawing upan egotistical parallel in my mind. That is the reason that by the sideof my misfortunes yours appear to me mere mischances; that is why mydreadful position makes yours appear enviable. But this annoys you; letus change the subject. You were saying, madame"--

"I came to ask you, my friend, " said the baroness, "what will be donewith this impostor?"

"Impostor, " repeated Villefort; "certainly, madame, you appear toextenuate some cases, and exaggerate others. Impostor, indeed!--M. Andrea Cavalcanti, or rather M. Benedetto, is nothing more nor less thanan assassin!"

"Sir, I do not deny the justice of your correction, but the moreseverely you arm yourself against that unfortunate man, the more deeplywill you strike our family. Come, forget him for a moment, and insteadof pursuing him let him go. "

"You are too late, madame; the orders are issued. "

"Well, should he be arrested--do they think they will arrest him?"

"I hope so. "

"If they should arrest him (I know that sometimes prisoners afford meansof escape), will you leave him in prison?"--The procureur shook hishead. "At least keep him there till my daughter be married. "

"Impossible, madame; justice has its formalities. "

"What, even for me?" said the baroness, half jesting, half in earnest. "For all, even for myself among the rest, " replied Villefort.

"Ah, " exclaimed the baroness, without expressing the ideas which theexclamation betrayed. Villefort looked at her with that piercing glancewhich reads the secrets of the heart. "Yes, I know what you mean, " hesaid; "you refer to the terrible rumors spread abroad in the world, thatthe deaths which have kept me in mourning for the last three months, andfrom which Valentine has only escaped by a miracle, have not happened bynatural means. "

"I was not thinking of that, " replied Madame Danglars quickly. "Yes, youwere thinking of it, and with justice. You could not help thinking ofit, and saying to yourself, 'you, who pursue crime so vindictively, answer now, why are there unpunished crimes in your dwelling?'" Thebaroness became pale. "You were saying this, were you not?"

"Well, I own it. "

"I will answer you. "

Villefort drew his armchair nearer to Madame Danglars; then resting bothhands upon his desk he said in a voice more hollow than usual: "Thereare crimes which remain unpunished because the criminals are unknown, and we might strike the innocent instead of the guilty; but when theculprits are discovered" (Villefort here extended his hand toward alarge crucifix placed opposite to his desk)--"when they are discovered, I swear to you, by all I hold most sacred, that whoever they may be theyshall die. Now, after the oath I have just taken, and which I will keep, madame, dare you ask for mercy for that wretch!"

"But, sir, are you sure he is as guilty as they say?"

"Listen; this is his description: 'Benedetto, condemned, at the age ofsixteen, for five years to the galleys for forgery. ' He promised well, as you see--first a runaway, then an assassin. "

"And who is this wretch?"

"Who can tell?--a vagabond, a Corsican. "

"Has no one owned him?"

"No one; his parents are unknown. "

"But who was the man who brought him from Lucca?"

"Another rascal like himself, perhaps his accomplice. " The baronessclasped her hands. "Villefort, " she exclaimed in her softest and mostcaptivating manner.

"For heaven's sake, madame, " said Villefort, with a firmness ofexpression not altogether free from harshness--"for heaven's sake, donot ask pardon of me for a guilty wretch! What am I?--the law. Has thelaw any eyes to witness your grief? Has the law ears to be melted byyour sweet voice? Has the law a memory for all those soft recollectionsyou endeavor to recall? No, madame; the law has commanded, and when itcommands it strikes. You will tell me that I am a living being, and nota code--a man, and not a volume. Look at me, madame--look around me. Have mankind treated me as a brother? Have they loved me? Have theyspared me? Has any one shown the mercy towards me that you now ask at myhands? No, madame, they struck me, always struck me!

"Woman, siren that you are, do you persist in fixing on me thatfascinating eye, which reminds me that I ought to blush? Well, be it so;let me blush for the faults you know, and perhaps--perhaps for evenmore than those! But having sinned myself, --it may be more deeplythan others, --I never rest till I have torn the disguises from myfellow-creatures, and found out their weaknesses. I have always foundthem; and more, --I repeat it with joy, with triumph, --I have alwaysfound some proof of human perversity or error. Every criminal I condemnseems to me living evidence that I am not a hideous exception to therest. Alas, alas, alas; all the world is wicked; let us therefore strikeat wickedness!"

Villefort pronounced these last words with a feverish rage, which gave aferocious eloquence to his words.

"But"' said Madame Danglars, resolving to make a last effort, "thisyoung man, though a murderer, is an orphan, abandoned by everybody. "

"So much the worse, or rather, so much the better; it has been soordained that he may have none to weep his fate. "

"But this is trampling on the weak, sir. "

"The weakness of a murderer!"

"His dishonor reflects upon us. "

"Is not death in my house?"

"Oh, sir, " exclaimed the baroness, "you are without pity for others, well, then, I tell you they will have no mercy on you!"

"Be it so!" said Villefort, raising his arms to heaven.

"At least, delay the trial till the next assizes; we shall then have sixmonths before us. "

"No, madame, " said Villefort; "instructions have been given. There areyet five days left; five days are more than I require. Do you not thinkthat I also long for forgetfulness? While working night and day, Isometimes lose all recollection of the past, and then I experience thesame sort of happiness I can imagine the dead feel; still, it is betterthan suffering. "

"But, sir, he has fled; let him escape--inaction is a pardonableoffence. "

"I tell you it is too late; early this morning the telegraph wasemployed, and at this very minute"--

"Sir, " said the valet de chambre, entering the room, "a dragoon hasbrought this despatch from the minister of the interior. " Villefortseized the letter, and hastily broke the seal. Madame Danglars trembledwith fear; Villefort started with joy. "Arrested!" he exclaimed; "hewas taken at Compiegne, and all is over. " Madame Danglars rose from herseat, pale and cold. "Adieu, sir, " she said. "Adieu, madame, " repliedthe king's attorney, as in an almost joyful manner he conducted her tothe door. Then, turning to his desk, he said, striking the letter withthe back of his right hand, "Come, I had a forgery, three robberies, andtwo cases of arson, I only wanted a murder, and here it is. It will be asplendid session!"

Chapter 100. The Apparition.

As the procureur had told Madame Danglars, Valentine was not yetrecovered. Bowed down with fatigue, she was indeed confined to her bed;and it was in her own room, and from the lips of Madame de Villefort, that she heard all the strange events we have related, --we mean theflight of Eugenie and the arrest of Andrea Cavalcanti, or ratherBenedetto, together with the accusation of murder pronounced againsthim. But Valentine was so weak that this recital scarcely producedthe same effect it would have done had she been in her usual state ofhealth. Indeed, her brain was only the seat of vague ideas, and confusedforms, mingled with strange fancies, alone presented themselves beforeher eyes.

During the daytime Valentine's perceptions remained tolerably clear, owing to the constant presence of M. Noirtier, who caused himself to becarried to his granddaughter's room, and watched her with his paternaltenderness; Villefort also, on his return from the law courts, frequently passed an hour or two with his father and child. At sixo'clock Villefort retired to his study, at eight M. D'Avrigny himselfarrived, bringing the night draught prepared for the young girl, andthen M. Noirtier was carried away. A nurse of the doctor's choicesucceeded them, and never left till about ten or eleven o'clock, whenValentine was asleep. As she went down-stairs she gave the keys ofValentine's room to M. De Villefort, so that no one could reach thesick-room excepting through that of Madame de Villefort and littleEdward.

Every morning Morrel called on Noirtier to receive news of Valentine, and, extraordinary as it seemed, each day found him less uneasy. Certainly, though Valentine still labored under dreadful nervousexcitement, she was better; and moreover, Monte Cristo had told himwhen, half distracted, he had rushed to the count's house, that ifshe were not dead in two hours she would be saved. Now four days hadelapsed, and Valentine still lived.

The nervous excitement of which we speak pursued Valentine even in hersleep, or rather in that state of somnolence which succeeded her wakinghours; it was then, in the silence of night, in the dim light shed fromthe alabaster lamp on the chimney-piece, that she saw the shadows passand repass which hover over the bed of sickness, and fan the feverwith their trembling wings. First she fancied she saw her stepmotherthreatening her, then Morrel stretched his arms towards her; sometimesmere strangers, like the Count of Monte Cristo came to visit her; eventhe very furniture, in these moments of delirium, seemed to move, andthis state lasted till about three o'clock in the morning, when a deep, heavy slumber overcame the young girl, from which she did not awake tilldaylight. On the evening of the day on which Valentine had learned ofthe flight of Eugenie and the arrest of Benedetto, --Villefort havingretired as well as Noirtier and d'Avrigny, --her thoughts wandered in aconfused maze, alternately reviewing her own situation and the eventsshe had just heard.

Eleven o'clock had struck. The nurse, having placed the beverageprepared by the doctor within reach of the patient, and locked thedoor, was listening with terror to the comments of the servants in thekitchen, and storing her memory with all the horrible stories which hadfor some months past amused the occupants of the ante-chambers in thehouse of the king's attorney. Meanwhile an unexpected scene was passingin the room which had been so carefully locked. Ten minutes had elapsedsince the nurse had left; Valentine, who for the last hour hadbeen suffering from the fever which returned nightly, incapable ofcontrolling her ideas, was forced to yield to the excitement whichexhausted itself in producing and reproducing a succession andrecurrence of the same fancies and images. The night-lamp threw outcountless rays, each resolving itself into some strange form to herdisordered imagination, when suddenly by its flickering light Valentinethought she saw the door of her library, which was in the recess by thechimney-piece, open slowly, though she in vain listened for the sound ofthe hinges on which it turned.

At any other time Valentine would have seized the silken bell-pulland summoned assistance, but nothing astonished her in her presentsituation. Her reason told her that all the visions she beheld were butthe children of her imagination, and the conviction was strengthenedby the fact that in the morning no traces remained of the nocturnalphantoms, who disappeared with the coming of daylight. From behind thedoor a human figure appeared, but the girl was too familiar withsuch apparitions to be alarmed, and therefore only stared, hoping torecognize Morrel. The figure advanced towards the bed and appeared tolisten with profound attention. At this moment a ray of light glancedacross the face of the midnight visitor.



"It is not he, " she murmured, and waited, in the assurance that this wasbut a dream, for the man to disappear or assume some other form. Still, she felt her pulse, and finding it throb violently she remembered thatthe best method of dispelling such illusions was to drink, for a draughtof the beverage prepared by the doctor to allay her fever seemed tocause a reaction of the brain, and for a short time she suffered less. Valentine therefore reached her hand towards the glass, but as soonas her trembling arm left the bed the apparition advanced more quicklytowards her, and approached the young girl so closely that she fanciedshe heard his breath, and felt the pressure of his hand.

This time the illusion, or rather the reality, surpassed anythingValentine had before experienced; she began to believe herself reallyalive and awake, and the belief that her reason was this time notdeceived made her shudder. The pressure she felt was evidently intendedto arrest her arm, and she slowly withdrew it. Then the figure, fromwhom she could not detach her eyes, and who appeared more protectingthan menacing, took the glass, and walking towards the night-light heldit up, as if to test its transparency. This did not seem sufficient;the man, or rather the ghost--for he trod so softly that no sound washeard--then poured out about a spoonful into the glass, and drank it. Valentine witnessed this scene with a sentiment of stupefaction. Everyminute she had expected that it would vanish and give place to anothervision; but the man, instead of dissolving like a shadow, againapproached her, and said in an agitated voice, "Now you may drink. "

Valentine shuddered. It was the first time one of these visions hadever addressed her in a living voice, and she was about to utter anexclamation. The man placed his finger on her lips. "The Count of MonteCristo!" she murmured.

It was easy to see that no doubt now remained in the young girl's mindas to the reality of the scene; her eyes started with terror, her handstrembled, and she rapidly drew the bedclothes closer to her. Still, thepresence of Monte Cristo at such an hour, his mysterious, fanciful, andextraordinary entrance into her room through the wall, might well seemimpossibilities to her shattered reason. "Do not call any one--do not bealarmed, " said the Count; "do not let a shade of suspicion or uneasinessremain in your breast; the man standing before you, Valentine (for thistime it is no ghost), is nothing more than the tenderest father and themost respectful friend you could dream of. "

Valentine could not reply; the voice which indicated the real presenceof a being in the room, alarmed her so much that she feared to utter asyllable; still the expression of her eyes seemed to inquire, "If yourintentions are pure, why are you here?" The count's marvellous sagacityunderstood all that was passing in the young girl's mind.

"Listen to me, " he said, "or, rather, look upon me; look at my face, paler even than usual, and my eyes, red with weariness--for four daysI have not closed them, for I have been constantly watching you, toprotect and preserve you for Maximilian. " The blood mounted rapidlyto the cheeks of Valentine, for the name just announced by the countdispelled all the fear with which his presence had inspired her. "Maximilian!" she exclaimed, and so sweet did the sound appear to her, that she repeated it--"Maximilian!--has he then owned all to you?"

"Everything. He told me your life was his, and I have promised him thatyou shall live. "

"You have promised him that I shall live?"

"Yes. "

"But, sir, you spoke of vigilance and protection. Are you a doctor?"

"Yes; the best you could have at the present time, believe me. "

"But you say you have watched?" said Valentine uneasily; "where haveyou been?--I have not seen you. " The count extended his hand towards thelibrary. "I was hidden behind that door, " he said, "which leads into thenext house, which I have rented. " Valentine turned her eyes away, and, with an indignant expression of pride and modest fear, exclaimed: "Sir, I think you have been guilty of an unparalleled intrusion, and that whatyou call protection is more like an insult. "

"Valentine, " he answered, "during my long watch over you, all Ihave observed has been what people visited you, what nourishment wasprepared, and what beverage was served; then, when the latter appeareddangerous to me, I entered, as I have now done, and substituted, in theplace of the poison, a healthful draught; which, instead of producingthe death intended, caused life to circulate in your veins. "

"Poison--death!" exclaimed Valentine, half believing herself under theinfluence of some feverish hallucination; "what are you saying, sir?"

"Hush, my child, " said Monte Cristo, again placing his finger upon herlips, "I did say poison and death. But drink some of this;" and thecount took a bottle from his pocket, containing a red liquid, of whichhe poured a few drops into the glass. "Drink this, and then take nothingmore to-night. " Valentine stretched out her hand, but scarcely had shetouched the glass when she drew back in fear. Monte Cristo took theglass, drank half its contents, and then presented it to Valentine, whosmiled and swallowed the rest. "Oh, yes, " she exclaimed, "I recognizethe flavor of my nocturnal beverage which refreshed me so much, andseemed to ease my aching brain. Thank you, sir, thank you!"

"This is how you have lived during the last four nights, Valentine, "said the count. "But, oh, how I passed that time! Oh, the wretched hoursI have endured--the torture to which I have submitted when I saw thedeadly poison poured into your glass, and how I trembled lest you shoulddrink it before I could find time to throw it away!"

"Sir, " said Valentine, at the height of her terror, "you say you enduredtortures when you saw the deadly poison poured into my glass; but if yousaw this, you must also have seen the person who poured it?"

"Yes. " Valentine raised herself in bed, and drew over her chest, whichappeared whiter than snow, the embroidered cambric, still moist with thecold dews of delirium, to which were now added those of terror. "You sawthe person?" repeated the young girl. "Yes, " repeated the count.

"What you tell me is horrible, sir. You wish to make me believesomething too dreadful. What?--attempt to murder me in my father'shouse, in my room, on my bed of sickness? Oh, leave me, sir; youare tempting me--you make me doubt the goodness of providence--it isimpossible, it cannot be!"

"Are you the first that this hand has stricken? Have you not seenM. De Saint-Meran, Madame de Saint-Meran, Barrois, all fall? Would notM. Noirtier also have fallen a victim, had not the treatment he hasbeen pursuing for the last three years neutralized the effects of thepoison?"

"Oh, heaven, " said Valentine; "is this the reason why grandpapa has mademe share all his beverages during the last month?"

"And have they all tasted of a slightly bitter flavor, like that ofdried orange-peel?"

"Oh, yes, yes!"

"Then that explains all, " said Monte Cristo. "Your grandfather knows, then, that a poisoner lives here; perhaps he even suspects the person. He has been fortifying you, his beloved child, against the fataleffects of the poison, which has failed because your system was alreadyimpregnated with it. But even this would have availed little against amore deadly medium of death employed four days ago, which is generallybut too fatal. "

"But who, then, is this assassin, this murderer?"

"Let me also ask you a question. Have you never seen any one enter yourroom at night?"

"Oh, yes; I have frequently seen shadows pass close to me, approach, and disappear; but I took them for visions raised by my feverishimagination, and indeed when you entered I thought I was under theinfluence of delirium. "

"Then you do not know who it is that attempts your life?"

"No, " said Valentine; "who could desire my death?"

"You shall know it now, then, " said Monte Cristo, listening.

"How do you mean?" said Valentine, looking anxiously around.

"Because you are not feverish or delirious to-night, but thoroughlyawake; midnight is striking, which is the hour murderers choose. "

"Oh, heavens, " exclaimed Valentine, wiping off the drops which ran downher forehead. Midnight struck slowly and sadly; every hour seemed tostrike with leaden weight upon the heart of the poor girl. "Valentine, "said the count, "summon up all your courage; still the beatings of yourheart; do not let a sound escape you, and feign to be asleep; then youwill see. " Valentine seized the count's hand. "I think I hear a noise, "she said; "leave me. "

"Good-by, for the present, " replied the count, walking upon tiptoetowards the library door, and smiling with an expression so sad andpaternal that the young girl's heart was filled with gratitude. Before closing the door he turned around once more, and said, "Not amovement--not a word; let them think you asleep, or perhaps you may bekilled before I have the power of helping you. " And with this fearfulinjunction the count disappeared through the door, which noiselesslyclosed after him.

Chapter 101. Locusta.

Valentine was alone; two other clocks, slower than that ofSaint-Philippe du Roule, struck the hour of midnight from differentdirections, and excepting the rumbling of a few carriages all wassilent. Then Valentine's attention was engrossed by the clock in herroom, which marked the seconds. She began counting them, remarking thatthey were much slower than the beatings of her heart; and still shedoubted, --the inoffensive Valentine could not imagine that any oneshould desire her death. Why should they? To what end? What had shedone to excite the malice of an enemy? There was no fear of her fallingasleep. One terrible idea pressed upon her mind, --that some one existedin the world who had attempted to assassinate her, and who was aboutto endeavor to do so again. Supposing this person, wearied at theinefficacy of the poison, should, as Monte Cristo intimated, haverecourse to steel!--What if the count should have no time to run to herrescue!--What if her last moments were approaching, and she should neveragain see Morrel! When this terrible chain of ideas presented itself, Valentine was nearly persuaded to ring the bell, and call for help. Butthrough the door she fancied she saw the luminous eye of the count--thateye which lived in her memory, and the recollection overwhelmed her withso much shame that she asked herself whether any amount of gratitudecould ever repay his adventurous and devoted friendship.

Twenty minutes, twenty tedious minutes, passed thus, then ten more, and at last the clock struck the half-hour. Just then the sound offinger-nails slightly grating against the door of the library informedValentine that the count was still watching, and recommended her todo the same; at the same time, on the opposite side, that is towardsEdward's room, Valentine fancied that she heard the creaking of thefloor; she listened attentively, holding her breath till she was nearlysuffocated; the lock turned, and the door slowly opened. Valentine hadraised herself upon her elbow, and had scarcely time to throw herselfdown on the bed and shade her eyes with her arm; then, trembling, agitated, and her heart beating with indescribable terror, she awaitedthe event.

Some one approached the bed and drew back the curtains. Valentinesummoned every effort, and breathed with that regular respiration whichannounces tranquil sleep. "Valentine!" said a low voice. Still silent:Valentine had promised not to awake. Then everything was still, excepting that Valentine heard the almost noiseless sound of some liquidbeing poured into the glass she had just emptied. Then she ventured toopen her eyelids, and glance over her extended arm. She saw a woman in awhite dressing-gown pouring a liquor from a phial into her glass. Duringthis short time Valentine must have held her breath, or moved in someslight degree, for the woman, disturbed, stopped and leaned over thebed, in order the better to ascertain whether Valentine slept--it wasMadame de Villefort.

On recognizing her step-mother, Valentine could not repress a shudder, which caused a vibration in the bed. Madame de Villefort instantlystepped back close to the wall, and there, shaded by the bed-curtains, she silently and attentively watched the slightest movement ofValentine. The latter recollected the terrible caution of Monte Cristo;she fancied that the hand not holding the phial clasped a long sharpknife. Then collecting all her remaining strength, she forced herself toclose her eyes; but this simple operation upon the most delicate organsof our frame, generally so easy to accomplish, became almost impossibleat this moment, so much did curiosity struggle to retain the eyelidopen and learn the truth. Madame de Villefort, however, reassured bythe silence, which was alone disturbed by the regular breathing ofValentine, again extended her hand, and half hidden by the curtainssucceeded in emptying the contents of the phial into the glass. Then sheretired so gently that Valentine did not know she had left the room. Sheonly witnessed the withdrawal of the arm--the fair round arm of a womanbut twenty-five years old, and who yet spread death around her.

It is impossible to describe the sensations experienced by Valentineduring the minute and a half Madame de Villefort remained in the room. The grating against the library-door aroused the young girl fromthe stupor in which she was plunged, and which almost amounted toinsensibility. She raised her head with an effort. The noiseless dooragain turned on its hinges, and the Count of Monte Cristo reappeared. "Well, " said he, "do you still doubt?"

"Oh, " murmured the young girl.

"Have you seen?"

"Alas!"

"Did you recognize?" Valentine groaned. "Oh, yes;" she said, "I saw, butI cannot believe!"

"Would you rather die, then, and cause Maximilian's death?"

"Oh, " repeated the young girl, almost bewildered, "can I not leave thehouse?--can I not escape?"

"Valentine, the hand which now threatens you will pursue you everywhere;your servants will be seduced with gold, and death will be offered toyou disguised in every shape. You will find it in the water you drinkfrom the spring, in the fruit you pluck from the tree. "

"But did you not say that my kind grandfather's precaution hadneutralized the poison?"

"Yes, but not against a strong dose; the poison will be changed, and thequantity increased. " He took the glass and raised it to his lips. "Itis already done, " he said; "brucine is no longer employed, but a simplenarcotic! I can recognize the flavor of the alcohol in which it has beendissolved. If you had taken what Madame de Villefort has poured intoyour glass, Valentine--Valentine--you would have been doomed!"

"But, " exclaimed the young girl, "why am I thus pursued?"

"Why?--are you so kind--so good--so unsuspicious of ill, that you cannotunderstand, Valentine?"

"No, I have never injured her. "

"But you are rich, Valentine; you have 200, 000 livres a year, and youprevent her son from enjoying these 200, 000. Livres. "

"How so? The fortune is not her gift, but is inherited from myrelations. "

"Certainly; and that is why M. And Madame de Saint-Meran have died; thatis why M. Noirtier was sentenced the day he made you his heir; thatis why you, in your turn, are to die--it is because your father wouldinherit your property, and your brother, his only son, succeed to his. "

"Edward? Poor child! Are all these crimes committed on his account?"

"Ah, then you at length understand?"

"Heaven grant that this may not be visited upon him!"

"Valentine, you are an angel!"

"But why is my grandfather allowed to live?"

"It was considered, that you dead, the fortune would naturally revertto your brother, unless he were disinherited; and besides, the crimeappearing useless, it would be folly to commit it. "

"And is it possible that this frightful combination of crimes has beeninvented by a woman?"

"Do you recollect in the arbor of the Hotel des Postes, at Perugia, seeing a man in a brown cloak, whom your stepmother was questioningupon aqua tofana? Well, ever since then, the infernal project has beenripening in her brain. "

"Ah, then, indeed, sir, " said the sweet girl, bathed in tears, "I seethat I am condemned to die!"

"No, Valentine, for I have foreseen all their plots; no, your enemy isconquered since we know her, and you will live, Valentine--live tobe happy yourself, and to confer happiness upon a noble heart; but toinsure this you must rely on me. "

"Command me, sir--what am I to do?"

"You must blindly take what I give you. "

"Alas, were it only for my own sake, I should prefer to die!"

"You must not confide in any one--not even in your father. "

"My father is not engaged in this fearful plot, is he, sir?" askedValentine, clasping her hands.

"No; and yet your father, a man accustomed to judicial accusations, ought to have known that all these deaths have not happened naturally;it is he who should have watched over you--he should have occupied myplace--he should have emptied that glass--he should have risen againstthe assassin. Spectre against spectre!" he murmured in a low voice, ashe concluded his sentence.

"Sir, " said Valentine, "I will do all I can to live, for there aretwo beings whose existence depends upon mine--my grandfather andMaximilian. "

"I will watch over them as I have over you. "

"Well, sir, do as you will with me;" and then she added, in a low voice, "oh, heavens, what will befall me?"

"Whatever may happen, Valentine, do not be alarmed; though you suffer;though you lose sight, hearing, consciousness, fear nothing; thoughyou should awake and be ignorant where you are, still do not fear;even though you should find yourself in a sepulchral vault or coffin. Reassure yourself, then, and say to yourself: 'At this moment, a friend, a father, who lives for my happiness and that of Maximilian, watchesover me!'"

"Alas, alas, what a fearful extremity!"

"Valentine, would you rather denounce your stepmother?"

"I would rather die a hundred times--oh, yes, die!"

"No, you will not die; but will you promise me, whatever happens, thatyou will not complain, but hope?"

"I will think of Maximilian!"

"You are my own darling child, Valentine! I alone can save you, and Iwill. " Valentine in the extremity of her terror joined her hands, --forshe felt that the moment had arrived to ask for courage, --and began topray, and while uttering little more than incoherent words, she forgotthat her white shoulders had no other covering than her long hair, andthat the pulsations of her heart could be seen through the lace of hernightdress. Monte Cristo gently laid his hand on the young girl's arm, drew the velvet coverlet close to her throat, and said with a paternalsmile, --"My child, believe in my devotion to you as you believe in thegoodness of providence and the love of Maximilian. "

Then he drew from his waistcoat-pocket the little emerald box, raisedthe golden lid, and took from it a pastille about the size of a pea, which he placed in her hand. She took it, and looked attentively on thecount; there was an expression on the face of her intrepid protectorwhich commanded her veneration. She evidently interrogated him by herlook. "Yes, " said he. Valentine carried the pastille to her mouth, andswallowed it. "And now, my dear child, adieu for the present. I will tryand gain a little sleep, for you are saved. "

"Go, " said Valentine, "whatever happens, I promise you not to fear. "

Monte Cristo for some time kept his eyes fixed on the young girl, whogradually fell asleep, yielding to the effects of the narcotic thecount had given her. Then he took the glass, emptied three parts of thecontents in the fireplace, that it might be supposed Valentine had takenit, and replaced it on the table; then he disappeared, after throwinga farewell glance on Valentine, who slept with the confidence andinnocence of an angel.

Chapter 102. Valentine.

The night-light continued to burn on the chimney-piece, exhausting thelast drops of oil which floated on the surface of the water. The globeof the lamp appeared of a reddish hue, and the flame, brightening beforeit expired, threw out the last flickerings which in an inanimate objecthave been so often compared with the convulsions of a human creature inits final agonies. A dull and dismal light was shed over the bedclothesand curtains surrounding the young girl. All noise in the streets hadceased, and the silence was frightful. It was then that the door ofEdward's room opened, and a head we have before noticed appeared inthe glass opposite; it was Madame de Villefort, who came to witnessthe effects of the drink she had prepared. She stopped in the doorway, listened for a moment to the flickering of the lamp, the only sound inthat deserted room, and then advanced to the table to see if Valentine'sglass were empty. It was still about a quarter full, as we beforestated. Madame de Villefort emptied the contents into the ashes, whichshe disturbed that they might the more readily absorb the liquid; thenshe carefully rinsed the glass, and wiping it with her handkerchiefreplaced it on the table.

If any one could have looked into the room just then he would havenoticed the hesitation with which Madame de Villefort approached the bedand looked fixedly on Valentine. The dim light, the profound silence, and the gloomy thoughts inspired by the hour, and still more by her ownconscience, all combined to produce a sensation of fear; the poisonerwas terrified at the contemplation of her own work. At length sherallied, drew aside the curtain, and leaning over the pillow gazedintently on Valentine. The young girl no longer breathed, no breathissued through the half-closed teeth; the white lips no longerquivered--the eyes were suffused with a bluish vapor, and the long blacklashes rested on a cheek white as wax. Madame de Villefort gazed uponthe face so expressive even in its stillness; then she ventured to raisethe coverlet and press her hand upon the young girl's heart. It wascold and motionless. She only felt the pulsation in her own fingers, andwithdrew her hand with a shudder. One arm was hanging out of the bed;from shoulder to elbow it was moulded after the arms of GermainPillon's "Graces, " [*] but the fore-arm seemed to be slightly distortedby convulsion, and the hand, so delicately formed, was resting withstiff outstretched fingers on the framework of the bed. The nails, too, were turning blue.

* Germain Pillon was a famous French sculptor (1535-1598). His best known work is "The Three Graces, " now in the Louvre.

Madame de Villefort had no longer any doubt; all was over--she hadconsummated the last terrible work she had to accomplish. There was nomore to do in the room, so the poisoner retired stealthily, as thoughfearing to hear the sound of her own footsteps; but as she withdrew shestill held aside the curtain, absorbed in the irresistible attractionalways exerted by the picture of death, so long as it is merelymysterious and does not excite disgust. Just then the lamp againflickered; the noise startled Madame de Villefort, who shuddered anddropped the curtain. Immediately afterwards the light expired, and theroom was plunged in frightful obscurity, while the clock at thatminute struck half-past four. Overpowered with agitation, the poisonersucceeded in groping her way to the door, and reached her room in anagony of fear.

The darkness lasted two hours longer; then by degrees a cold light creptthrough the Venetian blinds, until at length it revealed the objects inthe room. About this time the nurse's cough was heard on the stairs andthe woman entered the room with a cup in her hand. To the tender eyeof a father or a lover, the first glance would have sufficed to revealValentine's condition; but to this hireling, Valentine only appeared tosleep. "Good, " she exclaimed, approaching the table, "she has taken partof her draught; the glass is three-quarters empty. "

Then she went to the fireplace and lit the fire, and although shehad just left her bed, she could not resist the temptation offered byValentine's sleep, so she threw herself into an arm-chair to snatch alittle more rest. The clock striking eight awoke her. Astonished at theprolonged slumber of the patient, and frightened to see that the arm wasstill hanging out of the bed, she advanced towards Valentine, and forthe first time noticed the white lips. She tried to replace the arm, butit moved with a frightful rigidity which could not deceive a sick-nurse. She screamed aloud; then running to the door exclaimed, --"Help, help!"

"What is the matter?" asked M. D'Avrigny, at the foot of the stairs, itbeing the hour he usually visited her.

"What is it?" asked Villefort, rushing from his room. "Doctor, do youhear them call for help?"

"Yes, yes; let us hasten up; it was in Valentine's room. " But before thedoctor and the father could reach the room, the servants who were on thesame floor had entered, and seeing Valentine pale and motionless on herbed, they lifted up their hands towards heaven and stood transfixed, asthough struck by lightening. "Call Madame de Villefort!--Wake Madamede Villefort!" cried the procureur from the door of his chamber, whichapparently he scarcely dared to leave. But instead of obeying him, theservants stood watching M. D'Avrigny, who ran to Valentine, and raisedher in his arms. "What?--this one, too?" he exclaimed. "Oh, where willbe the end?" Villefort rushed into the room. "What are you saying, doctor?" he exclaimed, raising his hands to heaven.

"I say that Valentine is dead!" replied d'Avrigny, in a voice terriblein its solemn calm.

M. De Villefort staggered and buried his head in the bed. On theexclamation of the doctor and the cry of the father, the servants allfled with muttered imprecations; they were heard running down the stairsand through the long passages, then there was a rush in the court, afterwards all was still; they had, one and all, deserted the accursedhouse. Just then, Madame de Villefort, in the act of slipping onher dressing-gown, threw aside the drapery and for a moment stoodmotionless, as though interrogating the occupants of the room, while sheendeavored to call up some rebellious tears. On a sudden she stepped, or rather bounded, with outstretched arms, towards the table. She sawd'Avrigny curiously examining the glass, which she felt certain ofhaving emptied during the night. It was now a third full, just as itwas when she threw the contents into the ashes. The spectre of Valentinerising before the poisoner would have alarmed her less. It was, indeed, the same color as the draught she had poured into the glass, and whichValentine had drunk}; it was indeed the poison, which could not deceiveM. D'Avrigny, which he now examined so closely; it was doubtless amiracle from heaven, that, notwithstanding her precautions, there shouldbe some trace, some proof remaining to reveal the crime. While Madamede Villefort remained rooted to the spot like a statue of terror, andVillefort, with his head hidden in the bedclothes, saw nothing aroundhim, d'Avrigny approached the window, that he might the better examinethe contents of the glass, and dipping the tip of his finger in, tastedit. "Ah, " he exclaimed, "it is no longer brucine that is used; let mesee what it is!"

Then he ran to one of the cupboards in Valentine's room, which had beentransformed into a medicine closet, and taking from its silver case asmall bottle of nitric acid, dropped a little of it into the liquor, which immediately changed to a blood-red color. "Ah, " exclaimedd'Avrigny, in a voice in which the horror of a judge unveiling the truthwas mingled with the delight of a student making a discovery. Madamede Villefort was overpowered, her eyes first flashed and then swam, she staggered towards the door and disappeared. Directly afterwards thedistant sound of a heavy weight falling on the ground was heard, butno one paid any attention to it; the nurse was engaged in watchingthe chemical analysis, and Villefort was still absorbed in grief. M. D'Avrigny alone had followed Madame de Villefort with his eyes, andwatched her hurried retreat. He lifted up the drapery over the entranceto Edward's room, and his eye reaching as far as Madame de Villefort'sapartment, he beheld her extended lifeless on the floor. "Go to theassistance of Madame de Villefort, " he said to the nurse. "Madame deVillefort is ill. "

"But Mademoiselle de Villefort"--stammered the nurse.

"Mademoiselle de Villefort no longer requires help, " said d'Avrigny, "since she is dead. "

"Dead, --dead!" groaned forth Villefort, in a paroxysm of grief, whichwas the more terrible from the novelty of the sensation in the ironheart of that man.

"Dead!" repeated a third voice. "Who said Valentine was dead?"

The two men turned round, and saw Morrel standing at the door, pale andterror-stricken. This is what had happened. At the usual time, Morrelhad presented himself at the little door leading to Noirtier's room. Contrary to custom, the door was open, and having no occasion to ring heentered. He waited for a moment in the hall and called for a servant toconduct him to M. Noirtier; but no one answered, the servants having, as we know, deserted the house. Morrel had no particular reason foruneasiness; Monte Cristo had promised him that Valentine should live, and so far he had always fulfilled his word. Every night the count hadgiven him news, which was the next morning confirmed by Noirtier. Stillthis extraordinary silence appeared strange to him, and he called asecond and third time; still no answer. Then he determined to go up. Noirtier's room was opened, like all the rest. The first thing he sawwas the old man sitting in his arm-chair in his usual place, but hiseyes expressed alarm, which was confirmed by the pallor which overspreadhis features.

"How are you, sir?" asked Morrel, with a sickness of heart.

"Well, " answered the old man, by closing his eyes; but his appearancemanifested increasing uneasiness.

"You are thoughtful, sir, " continued Morrel; "you want something; shallI call one of the servants?"

"Yes, " replied Noirtier.

Morrel pulled the bell, but though he nearly broke the cord no oneanswered. He turned towards Noirtier; the pallor and anguish expressedon his countenance momentarily increased.

"Oh, " exclaimed Morrel, "why do they not come? Is any one ill in thehouse?" The eyes of Noirtier seemed as though they would start fromtheir sockets. "What is the matter? You alarm me. Valentine? Valentine?"

"Yes, yes, " signed Noirtier. Maximilian tried to speak, but he couldarticulate nothing; he staggered, and supported himself against thewainscot. Then he pointed to the door.

"Yes, yes, yes!" continued the old man. Maximilian rushed up the littlestaircase, while Noirtier's eyes seemed to say, --"Quicker, quicker!"

In a minute the young man darted through several rooms, till at lengthhe reached Valentine's. There was no occasion to push the door, it waswide open. A sob was the only sound he heard. He saw as though in amist, a black figure kneeling and buried in a confused mass of whitedrapery. A terrible fear transfixed him. It was then he heard a voiceexclaim "Valentine is dead!" and another voice which, like an echorepeated, --"Dead, --dead!"

Chapter 103. Maximilian.

Villefort rose, half ashamed of being surprised in such a paroxysmof grief. The terrible office he had held for twenty-five years hadsucceeded in making him more or less than man. His glance, at firstwandering, fixed itself upon Morrel. "Who are you, sir, " he asked, "thatforget that this is not the manner to enter a house stricken with death?Go, sir, go!" But Morrel remained motionless; he could not detach hiseyes from that disordered bed, and the pale corpse of the young girlwho was lying on it. "Go!--do you hear?" said Villefort, while d'Avrignyadvanced to lead Morrel out. Maximilian stared for a moment at thecorpse, gazed all around the room, then upon the two men; he openedhis mouth to speak, but finding it impossible to give utterance to theinnumerable ideas that occupied his brain, he went out, thrusting hishands through his hair in such a manner that Villefort and d'Avrigny, for a moment diverted from the engrossing topic, exchanged glances, which seemed to say, --"He is mad!"

But in less than five minutes the staircase groaned beneath anextraordinary weight. Morrel was seen carrying, with superhumanstrength, the arm-chair containing Noirtier up-stairs. When he reachedthe landing he placed the arm-chair on the floor and rapidly rolled itinto Valentine's room. This could only have been accomplished by meansof unnatural strength supplied by powerful excitement. But the mostfearful spectacle was Noirtier being pushed towards the bed, his faceexpressing all his meaning, and his eyes supplying the want of everyother faculty. That pale face and flaming glance appeared to Villefortlike a frightful apparition. Each time he had been brought into contactwith his father, something terrible had happened. "See what they havedone!" cried Morrel, with one hand leaning on the back of the chair, andthe other extended towards Valentine. "See, my father, see!"

Villefort drew back and looked with astonishment on the young man, who, almost a stranger to him, called Noirtier his father. At this momentthe whole soul of the old man seemed centred in his eyes which becamebloodshot; the veins of the throat swelled; his cheeks and templesbecame purple, as though he was struck with epilepsy; nothing waswanting to complete this but the utterance of a cry. And the cry issuedfrom his pores, if we may thus speak--a cry frightful in its silence. D'Avrigny rushed towards the old man and made him inhale a powerfulrestorative.

"Sir, " cried Morrel, seizing the moist hand of the paralytic, "they askme who I am, and what right I have to be here. Oh, you know it, tellthem, tell them!" And the young man's voice was choked by sobs. As forthe old man, his chest heaved with his panting respiration. One couldhave thought that he was undergoing the agonies preceding death. Atlength, happier than the young man, who sobbed without weeping, tearsglistened in the eyes of Noirtier. "Tell them, " said Morrel in a hoarsevoice, "tell them that I am her betrothed. Tell them she was my beloved, my noble girl, my only blessing in the world. Tell them--oh, tell them, that corpse belongs to me!"

The young man overwhelmed by the weight of his anguish, fell heavilyon his knees before the bed, which his fingers grasped with convulsiveenergy. D'Avrigny, unable to bear the sight of this touching emotion, turned away; and Villefort, without seeking any further explanation, and attracted towards him by the irresistible magnetism which draws ustowards those who have loved the people for whom we mourn, extended hishand towards the young man. But Morrel saw nothing; he had grasped thehand of Valentine, and unable to weep vented his agony in groans ashe bit the sheets. For some time nothing was heard in that chamber butsobs, exclamations, and prayers. At length Villefort, the most composedof all, spoke: "Sir, " said he to Maximilian, "you say you lovedValentine, that you were betrothed to her. I knew nothing of thisengagement, of this love, yet I, her father, forgive you, for I see thatyour grief is real and deep; and besides my own sorrow is too great foranger to find a place in my heart. But you see that the angel whomyou hoped for has left this earth--she has nothing more to do with theadoration of men. Take a last farewell, sir, of her sad remains; takethe hand you expected to possess once more within your own, and thenseparate yourself from her forever. Valentine now requires only theministrations of the priest. "

"You are mistaken, sir, " exclaimed Morrel, raising himself on one knee, his heart pierced by a more acute pang than any he had yet felt--"youare mistaken; Valentine, dying as she has, not only requires a priest, but an avenger. You, M. De Villefort, send for the priest; I will be theavenger. "



"What do you mean, sir?" asked Villefort, trembling at the new ideainspired by the delirium of Morrel.

"I tell you, sir, that two persons exist in you; the father has mournedsufficiently, now let the procureur fulfil his office. "

The eyes of Noirtier glistened, and d'Avrigny approached.

"Gentlemen, " said Morrel, reading all that passed through the minds ofthe witnesses to the scene, "I know what I am saying, and you know aswell as I do what I am about to say--Valentine has been assassinated!"Villefort hung his head, d'Avrigny approached nearer, and Noirtier said"Yes" with his eyes. "Now, sir, " continued Morrel, "in these days no onecan disappear by violent means without some inquiries being made as tothe cause of her disappearance, even were she not a young, beautiful, and adorable creature like Valentine. Mr. Procureur, " said Morrel withincreasing vehemence, "no mercy is allowed; I denounce the crime; itis your place to seek the assassin. " The young man's implacable eyesinterrogated Villefort, who, on his side, glanced from Noirtier tod'Avrigny. But instead of finding sympathy in the eyes of the doctorand his father, he only saw an expression as inflexible as that ofMaximilian. "Yes, " indicated the old man.

"Assuredly, " said d'Avrigny.

"Sir, " said Villefort, striving to struggle against this triple forceand his own emotion, --"sir, you are deceived; no one commits crimeshere. I am stricken by fate. It is horrible, indeed, but no oneassassinates. "

The eyes of Noirtier lighted up with rage, and d'Avrigny prepared tospeak. Morrel, however, extended his arm, and commanded silence. "And Isay that murders are committed here, " said Morrel, whose voice, thoughlower in tone, lost none of its terrible distinctness: "I tell youthat this is the fourth victim within the last four months. I tellyou, Valentine's life was attempted by poison four days ago, though sheescaped, owing to the precautions of M. Noirtier. I tell you that thedose has been double, the poison changed, and that this time it hassucceeded. I tell you that you know these things as well as I do, sincethis gentleman has forewarned you, both as a doctor and as a friend. "

"Oh, you rave, sir, " exclaimed Villefort, in vain endeavoring to escapethe net in which he was taken.

"I rave?" said Morrel; "well, then, I appeal to M. D'Avrigny himself. Ask him, sir, if he recollects the words he uttered in the garden ofthis house on the night of Madame de Saint-Meran's death. You thoughtyourselves alone, and talked about that tragical death, and thefatality you mentioned then is the same which has caused the murderof Valentine. " Villefort and d'Avrigny exchanged looks. "Yes, yes, "continued Morrel; "recall the scene, for the words you thought wereonly given to silence and solitude fell into my ears. Certainly, afterwitnessing the culpable indolence manifested by M. De Villefort towardshis own relations, I ought to have denounced him to the authorities;then I should not have been an accomplice to thy death, as I now am, sweet, beloved Valentine; but the accomplice shall become the avenger. This fourth murder is apparent to all, and if thy father abandon thee, Valentine, it is I, and I swear it, that shall pursue the assassin. "And this time, as though nature had at least taken compassion on thevigorous frame, nearly bursting with its own strength, the words ofMorrel were stifled in his throat; his breast heaved; the tears, so longrebellious, gushed from his eyes; and he threw himself weeping on hisknees by the side of the bed.

Then d'Avrigny spoke. "And I, too, " he exclaimed in a low voice, "Iunite with M. Morrel in demanding justice for crime; my blood boils atthe idea of having encouraged a murderer by my cowardly concession. "

"Oh, merciful heavens!" murmured Villefort. Morrel raised his head, and reading the eyes of the old man, which gleamed with unnaturallustre, --"Stay, " he said, "M. Noirtier wishes to speak. "

"Yes, " indicated Noirtier, with an expression the more terrible, fromall his faculties being centred in his glance.

"Do you know the assassin?" asked Morrel.

"Yes, " replied Noirtier.

"And will you direct us?" exclaimed the young man. "Listen, M. D'Avrigny, listen!" Noirtier looked upon Morrel with one of thosemelancholy smiles which had so often made Valentine happy, and thusfixed his attention. Then, having riveted the eyes of his interlocutoron his own, he glanced towards the door.

"Do you wish me to leave?" said Morrel, sadly.

"Yes, " replied Noirtier.

"Alas, alas, sir, have pity on me!"

The old man's eyes remained fixed on the door.

"May I, at least, return?" asked Morrel.

"Yes. "

"Must I leave alone?"

"No. "

"Whom am I to take with me? The procureur?"

"No. "

"The doctor?"

"Yes. "

"You wish to remain alone with M. De Villefort?"

"Yes. "

"But can he understand you?"

"Yes. "

"Oh, " said Villefort, inexpressibly delighted to think that theinquiries were to be made by him alone, --"oh, be satisfied, I canunderstand my father. " D'Avrigny took the young man's arm, and ledhim out of the room. A more than deathlike silence then reigned inthe house. At the end of a quarter of an hour a faltering footstepwas heard, and Villefort appeared at the door of the apartment whered'Avrigny and Morrel had been staying, one absorbed in meditation, theother in grief. "You can come, " he said, and led them back to Noirtier. Morrel looked attentively on Villefort. His face was livid, large dropsrolled down his face, and in his fingers he held the fragments of aquill pen which he had torn to atoms.

"Gentlemen, " he said in a hoarse voice, "give me your word of honor thatthis horrible secret shall forever remain buried amongst ourselves!" Thetwo men drew back.

"I entreat you. "--continued Villefort.

"But, " said Morrel, "the culprit--the murderer--the assassin. "

"Do not alarm yourself, sir; justice will be done, " said Villefort. "Myfather has revealed the culprit's name; my father thirsts for revenge asmuch as you do, yet even he conjures you as I do to keep this secret. Doyou not, father?"

"Yes, " resolutely replied Noirtier. Morrel suffered an exclamation ofhorror and surprise to escape him. "Oh, sir, " said Villefort, arrestingMaximilian by the arm, "if my father, the inflexible man, makes thisrequest, it is because he knows, be assured, that Valentine will beterribly revenged. Is it not so, father?" The old man made a sign in theaffirmative. Villefort continued: "He knows me, and I have pledged myword to him. Rest assured, gentlemen, that within three days, in a lesstime than justice would demand, the revenge I shall have taken for themurder of my child will be such as to make the boldest heart tremble;"and as he spoke these words he ground his teeth, and grasped the oldman's senseless hand.

"Will this promise be fulfilled, M. Noirtier?" asked Morrel, whiled'Avrigny looked inquiringly.

"Yes, " replied Noirtier with an expression of sinister joy.

"Swear, then, " said Villefort, joining the hands of Morrel andd'Avrigny, "swear that you will spare the honor of my house, and leaveme to avenge my child. " D'Avrigny turned round and uttered a very feeble"Yes, " but Morrel, disengaging his hand, rushed to the bed, and afterhaving pressed the cold lips of Valentine with his own, hurriedly left, uttering a long, deep groan of despair and anguish. We have beforestated that all the servants had fled. M. De Villefort was thereforeobliged to request M. D'Avrigny to superintend all the arrangementsconsequent upon a death in a large city, more especially a death undersuch suspicious circumstances.

It was something terrible to witness the silent agony, the mute despairof Noirtier, whose tears silently rolled down his cheeks. Villefortretired to his study, and d'Avrigny left to summon the doctor of themayoralty, whose office it is to examine bodies after decease, and whois expressly named "the doctor of the dead. " M. Noirtier could not bepersuaded to quit his grandchild. At the end of a quarter of an hour M. D'Avrigny returned with his associate; they found the outer gate closed, and not a servant remaining in the house; Villefort himself was obligedto open to them. But he stopped on the landing; he had not the courageto again visit the death chamber. The two doctors, therefore, enteredthe room alone. Noirtier was near the bed, pale, motionless, and silentas the corpse. The district doctor approached with the indifference ofa man accustomed to spend half his time amongst the dead; he then liftedthe sheet which was placed over the face, and just unclosed the lips.

"Alas, " said d'Avrigny, "she is indeed dead, poor child!"

"Yes, " answered the doctor laconically, dropping the sheet he hadraised. Noirtier uttered a kind of hoarse, rattling sound; the old man'seyes sparkled, and the good doctor understood that he wished to beholdhis child. He therefore approached the bed, and while his companion wasdipping the fingers with which he had touched the lips of the corpse inchloride of lime, he uncovered the calm and pale face, which looked likethat of a sleeping angel. A tear, which appeared in the old man's eye, expressed his thanks to the doctor. The doctor of the dead then laid hispermit on the corner of the table, and having fulfilled his duty, wasconducted out by d'Avrigny. Villefort met them at the door of hisstudy; having in a few words thanked the district doctor, he turned tod'Avrigny, and said, --"And now the priest. "

"Is there any particular priest you wish to pray with Valentine?" askedd'Avrigny.

"No. " said Villefort; "fetch the nearest. "

"The nearest, " said the district doctor, "is a good Italian abbe, wholives next door to you. Shall I call on him as I pass?"

"D'Avrigny, " said Villefort, "be so kind, I beseech you, as to accompanythis gentleman. Here is the key of the door, so that you can go in andout as you please; you will bring the priest with you, and will obligeme by introducing him into my child's room. "

"Do you wish to see him?"

"I only wish to be alone. You will excuse me, will you not? A priestcan understand a father's grief. " And M. De Villefort, giving the key tod'Avrigny, again bade farewell to the strange doctor, and retired to hisstudy, where he began to work. For some temperaments work is a remedyfor all afflictions. As the doctors entered the street, they saw a manin a cassock standing on the threshold of the next door. "This is theabbe of whom I spoke, " said the doctor to d'Avrigny. D'Avrigny accostedthe priest. "Sir, " he said, "are you disposed to confer a greatobligation on an unhappy father who has just lost his daughter? I meanM. De Villefort, the king's attorney. "

"Ah, " said the priest, in a marked Italian accent; "yes, I have heardthat death is in that house. "

"Then I need not tell you what kind of service he requires of you. "

"I was about to offer myself, sir, " said the priest; "it is our missionto forestall our duties. "

"It is a young girl. "

"I know it, sir; the servants who fled from the house informed me. Ialso know that her name is Valentine, and I have already prayed forher. "

"Thank you, sir, " said d'Avrigny; "since you have commenced your sacredoffice, deign to continue it. Come and watch by the dead, and all thewretched family will be grateful to you. "

"I am going, sir; and I do not hesitate to say that no prayers will bemore fervent than mine. " D'Avrigny took the priest's hand, andwithout meeting Villefort, who was engaged in his study, they reachedValentine's room, which on the following night was to be occupied bythe undertakers. On entering the room, Noirtier's eyes met those of theabbe, and no doubt he read some particular expression in them, for heremained in the room. D'Avrigny recommended the attention of the priestto the living as well as to the dead, and the abbe promised to devotehis prayers to Valentine and his attentions to Noirtier. In order, doubtless, that he might not be disturbed while fulfilling his sacredmission, the priest rose as soon as d'Avrigny departed, and not onlybolted the door through which the doctor had just left, but also thatleading to Madame de Villefort's room.

Chapter 104. Danglars Signature.

The next morning dawned dull and cloudy. During the night theundertakers had executed their melancholy office, and wrapped the corpsein the winding-sheet, which, whatever may be said about the equality ofdeath, is at least a last proof of the luxury so pleasing in life. Thiswinding-sheet was nothing more than a beautiful piece of cambric, whichthe young girl had bought a fortnight before. During the evening twomen, engaged for the purpose, had carried Noirtier from Valentine's roominto his own, and contrary to all expectation there was no difficultyin withdrawing him from his child. The Abbe Busoni had watched tilldaylight, and then left without calling any one. D'Avrigny returnedabout eight o'clock in the morning; he met Villefort on his way toNoirtier's room, and accompanied him to see how the old man had slept. They found him in the large arm-chair, which served him for a bed, enjoying a calm, nay, almost a smiling sleep. They both stood inamazement at the door.

"See, " said d'Avrigny to Villefort, "nature knows how to alleviate thedeepest sorrow. No one can say that M. Noirtier did not love his child, and yet he sleeps. "

"Yes, you are right, " replied Villefort, surprised; "he sleeps, indeed!And this is the more strange, since the least contradiction keeps himawake all night. "

"Grief has stunned him, " replied d'Avrigny; and they both returnedthoughtfully to the procureur's study.

"See, I have not slept, " said Villefort, showing his undisturbed bed;"grief does not stun me. I have not been in bed for two nights; butthen look at my desk; see what I have written during these two days andnights. I have filled those papers, and have made out the accusationagainst the assassin Benedetto. Oh, work, work, --my passion, my joy, mydelight, --it is for thee to alleviate my sorrows!" and he convulsivelygrasped the hand of d'Avrigny.

"Do you require my services now?" asked d'Avrigny.

"No, " said Villefort; "only return again at eleven o'clock; at twelvethe--the--oh, heavens, my poor, poor child!" and the procureur againbecoming a man, lifted up his eyes and groaned.

"Shall you be present in the reception room?"

"No; I have a cousin who has undertaken this sad office. I shall work, doctor--when I work I forget everything. " And, indeed, no sooner hadthe doctor left the room, than he was again absorbed in study. On thedoorsteps d'Avrigny met the cousin whom Villefort had mentioned, apersonage as insignificant in our story as in the world he occupied--oneof those beings designed from their birth to make themselves useful toothers. He was punctual, dressed in black, with crape around his hat, and presented himself at his cousin's with a face made up for theoccasion, and which he could alter as might be required. At twelveo'clock the mourning-coaches rolled into the paved court, and the Rue duFaubourg Saint-Honore was filled with a crowd of idlers, equally pleasedto witness the festivities or the mourning of the rich, and who rushwith the same avidity to a funeral procession as to the marriage of aduchess.

Gradually the reception-room filled, and some of our old friendsmade their appearance--we mean Debray, Chateau-Renaud, and Beauchamp, accompanied by all the leading men of the day at the bar, in literature, or the army, for M. De Villefort moved in the first Parisian circles, less owing to his social position than to his personal merit. The cousinstanding at the door ushered in the guests, and it was rather a reliefto the indifferent to see a person as unmoved as themselves, and who didnot exact a mournful face or force tears, as would have been the casewith a father, a brother, or a lover. Those who were acquaintedsoon formed into little groups. One of them was made of Debray, Chateau-Renaud, and Beauchamp.

"Poor girl, " said Debray, like the rest, paying an involuntary tributeto the sad event, --"poor girl, so young, so rich, so beautiful! Couldyou have imagined this scene, Chateau-Renaud, when we saw her, at themost three weeks ago, about to sign that contract?"

"Indeed, no, " said Chateau-Renaud--"Did you know her?"

"I spoke to her once or twice at Madame de Morcerf's, among the rest;she appeared to me charming, though rather melancholy. Where is herstepmother? Do you know?"

"She is spending the day with the wife of the worthy gentleman who isreceiving us. "

"Who is he?"

"Whom do you mean?"

"The gentleman who receives us? Is he a deputy?"

"Oh, no. I am condemned to witness those gentlemen every day, " saidBeauchamp; "but he is perfectly unknown to me. "

"Have you mentioned this death in your paper?"

"It has been mentioned, but the article is not mine; indeed, I doubt ifit will please M. Villefort, for it says that if four successive deathshad happened anywhere else than in the house of the king's attorney, hewould have interested himself somewhat more about it. "

"Still, " said Chateau-Renaud, "Dr. D'Avrigny, who attends my mother, declares he is in despair about it. But whom are you seeking, Debray?"

"I am seeking the Count of Monte Cristo" said the young man.

"I met him on the boulevard, on my way here, " said Beauchamp. "I thinkhe is about to leave Paris; he was going to his banker. "

"His banker? Danglars is his banker, is he not?" asked Chateau-Renaud ofDebray.

"I believe so, " replied the secretary with slight uneasiness. "But MonteCristo is not the only one I miss here; I do not see Morrel. "

"Morrel? Do they know him?" asked Chateau-Renaud. "I think he has onlybeen introduced to Madame de Villefort. "

"Still, he ought to have been here, " said Debray; "I wonder what willbe talked about to-night; this funeral is the news of the day. But hush, here comes our minister of justice; he will feel obliged to make somelittle speech to the cousin, " and the three young men drew near tolisten. Beauchamp told the truth when he said that on his way to thefuneral he had met Monte Cristo, who was directing his steps towards theRue de la Chausse d'Antin, to M. Danglars'.

The banker saw the carriage of the count enter the court yard, andadvanced to meet him with a sad, though affable smile. "Well, " saidhe, extending his hand to Monte Cristo, "I suppose you have come tosympathize with me, for indeed misfortune has taken possession of myhouse. When I perceived you, I was just asking myself whether I had notwished harm towards those poor Morcerfs, which would have justified theproverb of 'He who wishes misfortunes to happen to others experiencesthem himself. ' Well, on my word of honor, I answered, 'No!' I wishedno ill to Morcerf; he was a little proud, perhaps, for a man who likemyself has risen from nothing; but we all have our faults. Do you know, count, that persons of our time of life--not that you belong to theclass, you are still a young man, --but as I was saying, persons of ourtime of life have been very unfortunate this year. For example, look atthe puritanical procureur, who has just lost his daughter, and in factnearly all his family, in so singular a manner; Morcerf dishonoredand dead; and then myself covered with ridicule through the villany ofBenedetto; besides"--

"Besides what?" asked the Count.

"Alas, do you not know?"

"What new calamity?"

"My daughter"--

"Mademoiselle Danglars?"

"Eugenie has left us!"

"Good heavens, what are you telling me?"

"The truth, my dear count. Oh, how happy you must be in not havingeither wife or children!"

"Do you think so?"

"Indeed I do. "

"And so Mademoiselle Danglars"--

"She could not endure the insult offered to us by that wretch, so sheasked permission to travel. "

"And is she gone?"

"The other night she left. "

"With Madame Danglars?"

"No, with a relation. But still, we have quite lost our dear Eugenie;for I doubt whether her pride will ever allow her to return to France. "

"Still, baron, " said Monte Cristo, "family griefs, or indeed any otheraffliction which would crush a man whose child was his only treasure, are endurable to a millionaire. Philosophers may well say, and practicalmen will always support the opinion, that money mitigates many trials;and if you admit the efficacy of this sovereign balm, you ought tobe very easily consoled--you, the king of finance, the focus ofimmeasurable power. "

Danglars looked at him askance, as though to ascertain whether he spokeseriously. "Yes, " he answered, "if a fortune brings consolation, I oughtto be consoled; I am rich. "

"So rich, dear sir, that your fortune resembles the pyramids; if youwished to demolish them you could not, and if it were possible, youwould not dare!" Danglars smiled at the good-natured pleasantry of thecount. "That reminds me, " he said, "that when you entered I was on thepoint of signing five little bonds; I have already signed two: will youallow me to do the same to the others?"

"Pray do so. "

There was a moment's silence, during which the noise of the banker's penwas alone heard, while Monte Cristo examined the gilt mouldings on theceiling. "Are they Spanish, Haitian, or Neapolitan bonds?" said MonteCristo. "No, " said Danglars, smiling, "they are bonds on the bank ofFrance, payable to bearer. Stay, count, " he added, "you, who may becalled the emperor, if I claim the title of king of finance, have youmany pieces of paper of this size, each worth a million?" The count tookinto his hands the papers, which Danglars had so proudly presented tohim, and read:--

"To the Governor of the Bank. Please pay to my order, from the funddeposited by me, the sum of a million, and charge the same to myaccount.

"Baron Danglars. "

"One, two, three, four, five, " said Monte Cristo; "five millions--whywhat a Croesus you are!"

"This is how I transact business, " said Danglars.

"It is really wonderful, " said the count; "above all, if, as I suppose, it is payable at sight. "

"It is, indeed, said Danglars.

"It is a fine thing to have such credit; really, it is only in Francethese things are done. Five millions on five little scraps of paper!--itmust be seen to be believed. "

"You do not doubt it?"

"No!"

"You say so with an accent--stay, you shall be convinced; take my clerkto the bank, and you will see him leave it with an order on the Treasuryfor the same sum. "

"No, " said Monte Cristo folding the five notes, "most decidedly not; thething is so curious, I will make the experiment myself. I am creditedon you for six millions. I have drawn nine hundred thousand francs, youtherefore still owe me five millions and a hundred thousand francs. Iwill take the five scraps of paper that I now hold as bonds, with yoursignature alone, and here is a receipt in full for the six millionsbetween us. I had prepared it beforehand, for I am much in want of moneyto-day. " And Monte Cristo placed the bonds in his pocket with onehand, while with the other he held out the receipt to Danglars. Ifa thunderbolt had fallen at the banker's feet, he could not haveexperienced greater terror.

"What, " he stammered, "do you mean to keep that money? Excuse me, excuse me, but I owe this money to the charity fund, --a deposit which Ipromised to pay this morning. "

"Oh, well, then, " said Monte Cristo, "I am not particular about thesefive notes, pay me in a different form; I wished, from curiosity, totake these, that I might be able to say that without any advice orpreparation the house of Danglars had paid me five millions without aminute's delay; it would have been remarkable. But here are your bonds;pay me differently;" and he held the bonds towards Danglars, who seizedthem like a vulture extending its claws to withhold the food that isbeing wrested from its grasp. Suddenly he rallied, made a violent effortto restrain himself, and then a smile gradually widened the features ofhis disturbed countenance.

"Certainly, " he said, "your receipt is money. "

"Oh dear, yes; and if you were at Rome, the house of Thomson & Frenchwould make no more difficulty about paying the money on my receipt thanyou have just done. "

"Pardon me, count, pardon me. "

"Then I may keep this money?"

"Yes, " said Danglars, while the perspiration started from the roots ofhis hair. "Yes, keep it--keep it. "

Monte Cristo replaced the notes in his pocket with that indescribableexpression which seemed to say, "Come, reflect; if you repent there isstill time. "

"No, " said Danglars, "no, decidedly no; keep my signatures. But you knownone are so formal as bankers in transacting business; I intended thismoney for the charity fund, and I seemed to be robbing them if I did notpay them with these precise bonds. How absurd--as if one crown werenot as good as another. Excuse me;" and he began to laugh loudly, butnervously.

"Certainly, I excuse you, " said Monte Cristo graciously, "and pocketthem. " And he placed the bonds in his pocket-book.

"But, " said Danglars, "there is still a sum of one hundred thousandfrancs?"

"Oh, a mere nothing, " said Monte Cristo. "The balance would come toabout that sum; but keep it, and we shall be quits. "

"Count, " said Danglars, "are you speaking seriously?"

"I never joke with bankers, " said Monte Cristo in a freezing manner, which repelled impertinence; and he turned to the door, just as thevalet de chambre announced, --"M. De Boville, receiver-general of thecharities. "

"Ma foi, " said Monte Cristo; "I think I arrived just in time to obtainyour signatures, or they would have been disputed with me. "

Danglars again became pale, and hastened to conduct the count out. MonteCristo exchanged a ceremonious bow with M. De Boville, who was standingin the waiting-room, and who was introduced into Danglars' room as soonas the count had left. The count's sad face was illumined by a faintsmile, as he noticed the portfolio which the receiver-general held inhis hand. At the door he found his carriage, and was immediately drivento the bank. Meanwhile Danglars, repressing all emotion, advanced tomeet the receiver-general. We need not say that a smile of condescensionwas stamped upon his lips. "Good-morning, creditor, " said he; "for Iwager anything it is the creditor who visits me. "

"You are right, baron, " answered M. De Boville; "the charities presentthemselves to you through me: the widows and orphans depute me toreceive alms to the amount of five millions from you. "

"And yet they say orphans are to be pitied, " said Danglars, wishing toprolong the jest. "Poor things!"

"Here I am in their name, " said M. De Boville; "but did you receive myletter yesterday?"

"Yes. "

"I have brought my receipt. "

"My dear M. De Boville, your widows and orphans must oblige me bywaiting twenty-four hours, since M. De Monte Cristo whom you just sawleaving here--you did see him, I think?"

"Yes; well?"

"Well, M. De Monte Cristo has just carried off their five millions. "

"How so?"

"The count has an unlimited credit upon me; a credit opened by Thomson& French, of Rome; he came to demand five millions at once, which I paidhim with checks on the bank. My funds are deposited there, and youcan understand that if I draw out ten millions on the same day it willappear rather strange to the governor. Two days will be a differentthing, " said Danglars, smiling.

"Come, " said Boville, with a tone of entire incredulity, "five millionsto that gentleman who just left, and who bowed to me as though he knewme?"

"Perhaps he knows you, though you do not know him; M. De Monte Cristoknows everybody. "

"Five millions!"

"Here is his receipt. Believe your own eyes. " M. De Boville took thepaper Danglars presented him, and read:--

"Received of Baron Danglars the sum of five million one hundred thousandfrancs, to be repaid on demand by the house of Thomson & French ofRome. "

"It is really true, " said M. De Boville.

"Do you know the house of Thomson & French?"

"Yes, I once had business to transact with it to the amount of 200, 000francs; but since then I have not heard it mentioned. "

"It is one of the best houses in Europe, " said Danglars, carelesslythrowing down the receipt on his desk.

"And he had five millions in your hands alone! Why, this Count of MonteCristo must be a nabob?"

"Indeed I do not know what he is; he has three unlimited credits--oneon me, one on Rothschild, one on Lafitte; and, you see, " he addedcarelessly, "he has given me the preference, by leaving a balanceof 100, 000 francs. " M. De Boville manifested signs of extraordinaryadmiration. "I must visit him, " he said, "and obtain some pious grantfrom him. "

"Oh, you may make sure of him; his charities alone amount to 20, 000francs a month. "

"It is magnificent! I will set before him the example of Madame deMorcerf and her son. "

"What example?"

"They gave all their fortune to the hospitals. "

"What fortune?"

"Their own--M. De Morcerf's, who is deceased. "

"For what reason?"

"Because they would not spend money so guiltily acquired. "

"And what are they to live upon?"

"The mother retires into the country, and the son enters the army. "

"Well, I must confess, these are scruples. "

"I registered their deed of gift yesterday. "

"And how much did they possess?"

"Oh, not much--from twelve to thirteen hundred thousand francs. But toreturn to our millions. "

"Certainly, " said Danglars, in the most natural tone in the world. "Areyou then pressed for this money?"

"Yes; for the examination of our cash takes place to-morrow. "

"To-morrow? Why did you not tell me so before? Why, it is as good as acentury! At what hour does the examination take place?"

"At two o'clock. "

"Send at twelve, " said Danglars, smiling. M. De Boville said nothing, but nodded his head, and took up the portfolio. "Now I think of it, youcan do better, " said Danglars.

"How do you mean?"

"The receipt of M. De Monte Cristo is as good as money; take it toRothschild's or Lafitte's, and they will take it off your hands atonce. "

"What, though payable at Rome?"

"Certainly; it will only cost you a discount of 5, 000 or 6, 000 francs. "The receiver started back. "Ma foi, " he said, "I prefer waiting tillto-morrow. What a proposition!"

"I thought, perhaps, " said Danglars with supreme impertinence, "that youhad a deficiency to make up?"

"Indeed, " said the receiver.

"And if that were the case it would be worth while to make somesacrifice. "

"Thank you, no, sir. "

"Then it will be to-morrow. "

"Yes; but without fail. "

"Ah, you are laughing at me; send to-morrow at twelve, and the bankshall be notified. "

"I will come myself. "

"Better still, since it will afford me the pleasure of seeing you. " Theyshook hands. "By the way, " said M. De Boville, "are you not going to thefuneral of poor Mademoiselle de Villefort, which I met on my road here?"

"No, " said the banker; "I have appeared rather ridiculous since thataffair of Benedetto, so I remain in the background. "

"Bah, you are wrong. How were you to blame in that affair?"

"Listen--when one bears an irreproachable name, as I do, one is rathersensitive. "

"Everybody pities you, sir; and, above all, Mademoiselle Danglars!"

"Poor Eugenie!" said Danglars; "do you know she is going to embrace areligious life?"

"No. "

"Alas, it is unhappily but too true. The day after the event, shedecided on leaving Paris with a nun of her acquaintance; they are goneto seek a very strict convent in Italy or Spain. "

"Oh, it is terrible!" and M. De Boville retired with this exclamation, after expressing acute sympathy with the father. But he had scarcelyleft before Danglars, with an energy of action those can aloneunderstand who have seen Robert Macaire represented by Frederic, [*]exclaimed, --"Fool!" Then enclosing Monte Cristo's receipt in a littlepocket-book, he added:--"Yes, come at twelve o'clock; I shall then befar away. " Then he double-locked his door, emptied all his drawers, collected about fifty thousand francs in bank-notes, burned severalpapers, left others exposed to view, and then commenced writing a letterwhich he addressed:

"To Madame la Baronne Danglars. "

* Frederic Lemaitre--French actor (1800-1876). Robert Macaire is the hero of two favorite melodramas--"Chien de Montargis" and "Chien d'Aubry"--and the name is applied to bold criminals as a term of derision.

"I will place it on her table myself to-night, " he murmured. Then takinga passport from his drawer he said, --"Good, it is available for twomonths longer. "

Chapter 105. The Cemetery of Pere-la-Chaise.

M. De Boville had indeed met the funeral procession which was takingValentine to her last home on earth. The weather was dull and stormy, acold wind shook the few remaining yellow leaves from the boughs of thetrees, and scattered them among the crowd which filled the boulevards. M. De Villefort, a true Parisian, considered the cemetery ofPere-la-Chaise alone worthy of receiving the mortal remains of aParisian family; there alone the corpses belonging to him would besurrounded by worthy associates. He had therefore purchased a vault, which was quickly occupied by members of his family. On the front of themonument was inscribed: "The families of Saint-Meran and Villefort, " forsuch had been the last wish expressed by poor Renee, Valentine's mother. The pompous procession therefore wended its way towards Pere-la-Chaisefrom the Faubourg Saint-Honore. Having crossed Paris, it passed throughthe Faubourg du Temple, then leaving the exterior boulevards, it reachedthe cemetery. More than fifty private carriages followed the twentymourning-coaches, and behind them more than five hundred persons joinedin the procession on foot.

These last consisted of all the young people whom Valentine's death hadstruck like a thunderbolt, and who, notwithstanding the raw chillinessof the season, could not refrain from paying a last tribute to thememory of the beautiful, chaste, and adorable girl, thus cut off in theflower of her youth. As they left Paris, an equipage with four horses, at full speed, was seen to draw up suddenly; it contained Monte Cristo. The count left the carriage and mingled in the crowd who followed onfoot. Chateau-Renaud perceived him and immediately alighting from hiscoupe, joined him.

The count looked attentively through every opening in the crowd; he wasevidently watching for some one, but his search ended in disappointment. "Where is Morrel?" he asked; "do either of these gentlemen know where heis?"

"We have already asked that question, " said Chateau-Renaud, "for noneof us has seen him. " The count was silent, but continued to gaze aroundhim. At length they arrived at the cemetery. The piercing eye of MonteCristo glanced through clusters of bushes and trees, and was soonrelieved from all anxiety, for seeing a shadow glide between theyew-trees, Monte Cristo recognized him whom he sought. One funeral isgenerally very much like another in this magnificent metropolis. Blackfigures are seen scattered over the long white avenues; the silenceof earth and heaven is alone broken by the noise made by the cracklingbranches of hedges planted around the monuments; then follows themelancholy chant of the priests, mingled now and then with a sob ofanguish, escaping from some woman concealed behind a mass of flowers.



The shadow Monte Cristo had noticed passed rapidly behind the tomb ofAbelard and Heloise, placed itself close to the heads of the horsesbelonging to the hearse, and following the undertaker's men, arrivedwith them at the spot appointed for the burial. Each person's attentionwas occupied. Monte Cristo saw nothing but the shadow, which no one elseobserved. Twice the count left the ranks to see whether the object ofhis interest had any concealed weapon beneath his clothes. When theprocession stopped, this shadow was recognized as Morrel, who, withhis coat buttoned up to his throat, his face livid, and convulsivelycrushing his hat between his fingers, leaned against a tree, situatedon an elevation commanding the mausoleum, so that none of the funeraldetails could escape his observation. Everything was conducted inthe usual manner. A few men, the least impressed of all by the scene, pronounced a discourse, some deploring this premature death, othersexpatiating on the grief of the father, and one very ingenious personquoting the fact that Valentine had solicited pardon of her father forcriminals on whom the arm of justice was ready to fall--until at lengththey exhausted their stores of metaphor and mournful speeches.

Monte Cristo heard and saw nothing, or rather he only saw Morrel, whosecalmness had a frightful effect on those who knew what was passing inhis heart. "See, " said Beauchamp, pointing out Morrel to Debray. "Whatis he doing up there?" And they called Chateau-Renaud's attention tohim.

"How pale he is!" said Chateau-Renaud, shuddering.

"He is cold, " said Debray.

"Not at all, " said Chateau-Renaud, slowly; "I think he is violentlyagitated. He is very susceptible. "

"Bah, " said Debray; "he scarcely knew Mademoiselle de Villefort; yousaid so yourself. "

"True. Still I remember he danced three times with her at Madame deMorcerf's. Do you recollect that ball, count, where you produced such aneffect?"

"No, I do not, " replied Monte Cristo, without even knowing of what orto whom he was speaking, so much was he occupied in watching Morrel, whowas holding his breath with emotion. "The discourse is over; farewell, gentlemen, " said the count. And he disappeared without anyone seeingwhither he went. The funeral being over, the guests returned to Paris. Chateau-Renaud looked for a moment for Morrel; but while they werewatching the departure of the count, Morrel had quitted his post, andChateau-Renaud, failing in his search, joined Debray and Beauchamp.

Monte Cristo concealed himself behind a large tomb and awaited thearrival of Morrel, who by degrees approached the tomb now abandonedby spectators and workmen. Morrel threw a glance around, but before itreached the spot occupied by Monte Cristo the latter had advanced yetnearer, still unperceived. The young man knelt down. The count, withoutstretched neck and glaring eyes, stood in an attitude ready topounce upon Morrel upon the first occasion. Morrel bent his head tillit touched the stone, then clutching the grating with both hands, he murmured, --"Oh, Valentine!" The count's heart was pierced by theutterance of these two words; he stepped forward, and touching the youngman's shoulder, said, --"I was looking for you, my friend. " Monte Cristoexpected a burst of passion, but he was deceived, for Morrel turninground, said calmly, --

"You see I was praying. " The scrutinizing glance of the count searchedthe young man from head to foot. He then seemed more easy.

"Shall I drive you back to Paris?" he asked.

"No, thank you. "

"Do you wish anything?"

"Leave me to pray. " The count withdrew without opposition, but it wasonly to place himself in a situation where he could watch every movementof Morrel, who at length arose, brushed the dust from his knees, andturned towards Paris, without once looking back. He walked slowly downthe Rue de la Roquette. The count, dismissing his carriage, followed himabout a hundred paces behind. Maximilian crossed the canal and enteredthe Rue Meslay by the boulevards. Five minutes after the door had beenclosed on Morrel's entrance, it was again opened for the count. Juliewas at the entrance of the garden, where she was attentively watchingPenelon, who, entering with zeal into his profession of gardener, wasvery busy grafting some Bengal roses. "Ah, count, " she exclaimed, withthe delight manifested by every member of the family whenever he visitedthe Rue Meslay.

"Maximilian has just returned, has he not, madame?" asked the count.

"Yes, I think I saw him pass; but pray, call Emmanuel. "

"Excuse me, madame, but I must go up to Maximilian's room this instant, "replied Monte Cristo, "I have something of the greatest importance totell him. "

"Go, then, " she said with a charming smile, which accompanied him untilhe had disappeared. Monte Cristo soon ran up the staircase conductingfrom the ground-floor to Maximilian's room; when he reached the landinghe listened attentively, but all was still. Like many old housesoccupied by a single family, the room door was panelled with glass; butit was locked, Maximilian was shut in, and it was impossible to seewhat was passing in the room, because a red curtain was drawn before theglass. The count's anxiety was manifested by a bright color which seldomappeared on the face of that imperturbable man.

"What shall I do!" he uttered, and reflected for a moment; "shall Iring? No, the sound of a bell, announcing a visitor, will but acceleratethe resolution of one in Maximilian's situation, and then the bell wouldbe followed by a louder noise. " Monte Cristo trembled from head tofoot and as if his determination had been taken with the rapidity oflightning, he struck one of the panes of glass with his elbow; the glasswas shivered to atoms, then withdrawing the curtain he saw Morrel, whohad been writing at his desk, bound from his seat at the noise of thebroken window.

"I beg a thousand pardons, " said the count, "there is nothing thematter, but I slipped down and broke one of your panes of glass withmy elbow. Since it is opened, I will take advantage of it to enter yourroom; do not disturb yourself--do not disturb yourself!" And passinghis hand through the broken glass, the count opened the door. Morrel, evidently discomposed, came to meet Monte Cristo less with the intentionof receiving him than to exclude his entry. "Ma foi, " said Monte Cristo, rubbing his elbow, "it's all your servant's fault; your stairs are sopolished, it is like walking on glass. "

"Are you hurt, sir?" coldly asked Morrel.

"I believe not. But what are you about there? You were writing. "

"I?"

"Your fingers are stained with ink. "

"Ah, true, I was writing. I do sometimes, soldier though I am. "

Monte Cristo advanced into the room; Maximilian was obliged to let himpass, but he followed him. "You were writing?" said Monte Cristo with asearching look.

"I have already had the honor of telling you I was, " said Morrel.

The count looked around him. "Your pistols are beside your desk, " saidMonte Cristo, pointing with his finger to the pistols on the table.

"I am on the point of starting on a journey, " replied Morreldisdainfully.

"My friend, " exclaimed Monte Cristo in a tone of exquisite sweetness.

"Sir?"

"My friend, my dear Maximilian, do not make a hasty resolution, Ientreat you. "

"I make a hasty resolution?" said Morrel, shrugging his shoulders; "isthere anything extraordinary in a journey?"

"Maximilian, " said the count, "let us both lay aside the mask we haveassumed. You no more deceive me with that false calmness than I imposeupon you with my frivolous solicitude. You can understand, can you not, that to have acted as I have done, to have broken that glass, to haveintruded on the solitude of a friend--you can understand that, to havedone all this, I must have been actuated by real uneasiness, or ratherby a terrible conviction. Morrel, you are going to destroy yourself!"

"Indeed, count, " said Morrel, shuddering; "what has put this into yourhead?"

"I tell you that you are about to destroy yourself, " continued thecount, "and here is proof of what I say;" and, approaching the desk, heremoved the sheet of paper which Morrel had placed over the letter hehad begun, and took the latter in his hands.

Morrel rushed forward to tear it from him, but Monte Cristo perceivinghis intention, seized his wrist with his iron grasp. "You wish todestroy yourself, " said the count; "you have written it. "

"Well, " said Morrel, changing his expression of calmness for one ofviolence--"well, and if I do intend to turn this pistol against myself, who shall prevent me--who will dare prevent me? All my hopes areblighted, my heart is broken, my life a burden, everything around me issad and mournful; earth has become distasteful to me, and human voicesdistract me. It is a mercy to let me die, for if I live I shall losemy reason and become mad. When, sir, I tell you all this with tears ofheartfelt anguish, can you reply that I am wrong, can you prevent myputting an end to my miserable existence? Tell me, sir, could you havethe courage to do so?"

"Yes, Morrel, " said Monte Cristo, with a calmness which contrastedstrangely with the young man's excitement; "yes, I would do so. "

"You?" exclaimed Morrel, with increasing anger and reproach--"you, whohave deceived me with false hopes, who have cheered and soothed me withvain promises, when I might, if not have saved her, at least have seenher die in my arms! You, who pretend to understand everything, even thehidden sources of knowledge, --and who enact the part of a guardian angelupon earth, and could not even find an antidote to a poison administeredto a young girl! Ah, sir, indeed you would inspire me with pity, wereyou not hateful in my eyes. "

"Morrel"--

"Yes; you tell me to lay aside the mask, and I will do so, be satisfied!When you spoke to me at the cemetery, I answered you--my heart wassoftened; when you arrived here, I allowed you to enter. But sinceyou abuse my confidence, since you have devised a new torture afterI thought I had exhausted them all, then, Count of Monte Cristo mypretended benefactor--then, Count of Monte Cristo, the universalguardian, be satisfied, you shall witness the death of your friend;" andMorrel, with a maniacal laugh, again rushed towards the pistols.

"And I again repeat, you shall not commit suicide. "

"Prevent me, then!" replied Morrel, with another struggle, which, likethe first, failed in releasing him from the count's iron grasp.

"I will prevent you. "

"And who are you, then, that arrogate to yourself this tyrannical rightover free and rational beings?"

"Who am I?" repeated Monte Cristo. "Listen; I am the only man in theworld having the right to say to you, 'Morrel, your father's son shallnot die to-day;'" and Monte Cristo, with an expression of majestyand sublimity, advanced with arms folded toward the young man, who, involuntarily overcome by the commanding manner of this man, recoiled astep.

"Why do you mention my father?" stammered he; "why do you mingle arecollection of him with the affairs of today?"

"Because I am he who saved your father's life when he wished to destroyhimself, as you do to-day--because I am the man who sent the purseto your young sister, and the Pharaon to old Morrel--because I am theEdmond Dantes who nursed you, a child, on my knees. " Morrel made anotherstep back, staggering, breathless, crushed; then all his strengthgive way, and he fell prostrate at the feet of Monte Cristo. Then hisadmirable nature underwent a complete and sudden revulsion; he arose, rushed out of the room and to the stairs, exclaiming energetically, "Julie, Julie--Emmanuel, Emmanuel!"

Monte Cristo endeavored also to leave, but Maximilian would have diedrather than relax his hold of the handle of the door, which he closedupon the count. Julie, Emmanuel, and some of the servants, ran up inalarm on hearing the cries of Maximilian. Morrel seized their hands, and opening the door exclaimed in a voice choked with sobs, "On yourknees--on your knees--he is our benefactor--the saviour of our father!He is"--

He would have added "Edmond Dantes, " but the count seized his arm andprevented him. Julie threw herself into the arms of the count; Emmanuelembraced him as a guardian angel; Morrel again fell on his knees, andstruck the ground with his forehead. Then the iron-hearted man felt hisheart swell in his breast; a flame seemed to rush from his throat to hiseyes, he bent his head and wept. For a while nothing was heard in theroom but a succession of sobs, while the incense from their gratefulhearts mounted to heaven. Julie had scarcely recovered from her deepemotion when she rushed out of the room, descended to the next floor, ran into the drawing-room with childlike joy and raised the crystalglobe which covered the purse given by the unknown of the Allees deMeillan. Meanwhile, Emmanuel in a broken voice said to the count, "Oh, count, how could you, hearing us so often speak of our unknownbenefactor, seeing us pay such homage of gratitude and adoration to hismemory, --how could you continue so long without discovering yourself tous? Oh, it was cruel to us, and--dare I say it?--to you also. "

"Listen, my friends, " said the count--"I may call you so since we havereally been friends for the last eleven years--the discovery of thissecret has been occasioned by a great event which you must never know. I wished to bury it during my whole life in my own bosom, but your brotherMaximilian wrested it from me by a violence he repents of now, I amsure. " Then turning around, and seeing that Morrel, still on his knees, had thrown himself into an arm-chair, he added in a low voice, pressingEmmanuel's hand significantly, "Watch over him. "

"Why so?" asked the young man, surprised.

"I cannot explain myself; but watch over him. " Emmanuel looked aroundthe room and caught sight of the pistols; his eyes rested on theweapons, and he pointed to them. Monte Cristo bent his head. Emmanuelwent towards the pistols. "Leave them, " said Monte Cristo. Then walkingtowards Morrel, he took his hand; the tumultuous agitation of the youngman was succeeded by a profound stupor. Julie returned, holding thesilken purse in her hands, while tears of joy rolled down her cheeks, like dewdrops on the rose.

"Here is the relic, " she said; "do not think it will be less dear to usnow we are acquainted with our benefactor!"

"My child, " said Monte Cristo, coloring, "allow me to take back thatpurse? Since you now know my face, I wish to be remembered alone throughthe affection I hope you will grant me.

"Oh, " said Julie, pressing the purse to her heart, "no, no, I beseechyou do not take it, for some unhappy day you will leave us, will younot?"

"You have guessed rightly, madame, " replied Monte Cristo, smiling; "in aweek I shall have left this country, where so many persons who merit thevengeance of heaven lived happily, while my father perished of hungerand grief. " While announcing his departure, the count fixed his eyes onMorrel, and remarked that the words, "I shall have left this country, "had failed to rouse him from his lethargy. He then saw that he must makeanother struggle against the grief of his friend, and taking the handsof Emmanuel and Julie, which he pressed within his own, he said withthe mild authority of a father, "My kind friends, leave me alone withMaximilian. " Julie saw the means offered of carrying off her preciousrelic, which Monte Cristo had forgotten. She drew her husband to thedoor. "Let us leave them, " she said. The count was alone with Morrel, who remained motionless as a statue.

"Come, " said Monte-Cristo, touching his shoulder with his finger, "areyou a man again, Maximilian?"

"Yes; for I begin to suffer again. "

The count frowned, apparently in gloomy hesitation.

"Maximilian, Maximilian, " he said, "the ideas you yield to are unworthyof a Christian. "

"Oh, do not fear, my friend, " said Morrel, raising his head, and smilingwith a sweet expression on the count; "I shall no longer attempt mylife. "

"Then we are to have no more pistols--no more despair?"

"No; I have found a better remedy for my grief than either a bullet or aknife. "

"Poor fellow, what is it?"

"My grief will kill me of itself. "

"My friend, " said Monte Cristo, with an expression of melancholy equalto his own, "listen to me. One day, in a moment of despair like yours, since it led to a similar resolution, I also wished to kill myself; oneday your father, equally desperate, wished to kill himself too. If anyone had said to your father, at the moment he raised the pistol to hishead--if any one had told me, when in my prison I pushed back the food Ihad not tasted for three days--if anyone had said to either of usthen, 'Live--the day will come when you will be happy, and will blesslife!'--no matter whose voice had spoken, we should have heard him withthe smile of doubt, or the anguish of incredulity, --and yet how manytimes has your father blessed life while embracing you--how often have Imyself"--

"Ah, " exclaimed Morrel, interrupting the count, "you had only lostyour liberty, my father had only lost his fortune, but I have lostValentine. "

"Look at me, " said Monte Cristo, with that expression which sometimesmade him so eloquent and persuasive--"look at me. There are no tearsin my eyes, nor is there fever in my veins, yet I see you suffer--you, Maximilian, whom I love as my own son. Well, does not this tell youthat in grief, as in life, there is always something to look forward tobeyond? Now, if I entreat, if I order you to live, Morrel, it is inthe conviction that one day you will thank me for having preserved yourlife. "

"Oh, heavens, " said the young man, "oh, heavens--what are you saying, count? Take care. But perhaps you have never loved!"

"Child!" replied the count.

"I mean, as I love. You see, I have been a soldier ever since I attainedmanhood. I reached the age of twenty-nine without loving, for none ofthe feelings I before then experienced merit the appellation of love. Well, at twenty-nine I saw Valentine; for two years I have loved her, for two years I have seen written in her heart, as in a book, all thevirtues of a daughter and wife. Count, to possess Valentine would havebeen a happiness too infinite, too ecstatic, too complete, too divinefor this world, since it has been denied me; but without Valentine theearth is desolate. "

"I have told you to hope, " said the count.

"Then have a care, I repeat, for you seek to persuade me, and if yousucceed I should lose my reason, for I should hope that I could againbehold Valentine. " The count smiled. "My friend, my father, " said Morrelwith excitement, "have a care, I again repeat, for the power you wieldover me alarms me. Weigh your words before you speak, for my eyes havealready become brighter, and my heart beats strongly; be cautious, oryou will make me believe in supernatural agencies. I must obey you, though you bade me call forth the dead or walk upon the water. "

"Hope, my friend, " repeated the count.

"Ah, " said Morrel, falling from the height of excitement to the abyssof despair--"ah, you are playing with me, like those good, or ratherselfish mothers who soothe their children with honeyed words, becausetheir screams annoy them. No, my friend, I was wrong to caution you; donot fear, I will bury my grief so deep in my heart, I will disguiseit so, that you shall not even care to sympathize with me. Adieu, myfriend, adieu!"

"On the contrary, " said the count, "after this time you must live withme--you must not leave me, and in a week we shall have left Francebehind us. "

"And you still bid me hope?"

"I tell you to hope, because I have a method of curing you. "

"Count, you render me sadder than before, if it be possible. You thinkthe result of this blow has been to produce an ordinary grief, andyou would cure it by an ordinary remedy--change of scene. " And Morreldropped his head with disdainful incredulity. "What can I say more?"asked Monte Cristo. "I have confidence in the remedy I propose, and onlyask you to permit me to assure you of its efficacy. "

"Count, you prolong my agony. "

"Then, " said the count, "your feeble spirit will not even grant me thetrial I request? Come--do you know of what the Count of Monte Cristo iscapable? do you know that he holds terrestrial beings under his control?nay, that he can almost work a miracle? Well, wait for the miracle Ihope to accomplish, or"--

"Or?" repeated Morrel.

"Or, take care, Morrel, lest I call you ungrateful. "

"Have pity on me, count!"

"I feel so much pity towards you, Maximilian, that--listen to meattentively--if I do not cure you in a month, to the day, to the veryhour, mark my words, Morrel, I will place loaded pistols before you, and a cup of the deadliest Italian poison--a poison more sure and promptthan that which has killed Valentine. "

"Will you promise me?"

"Yes; for I am a man, and have suffered like yourself, and alsocontemplated suicide; indeed, often since misfortune has left me I havelonged for the delights of an eternal sleep. "

"But you are sure you will promise me this?" said Morrel, intoxicated. "I not only promise, but swear it!" said Monte Cristo extending hishand.

"In a month, then, on your honor, if I am not consoled, you will letme take my life into my own hands, and whatever may happen you will notcall me ungrateful?"

"In a month, to the day, the very hour and the date are sacred, Maximilian. I do not know whether you remember that this is the 5th ofSeptember; it is ten years to-day since I saved your father's life, whowished to die. " Morrel seized the count's hand and kissed it; the countallowed him to pay the homage he felt due to him. "In a month you willfind on the table, at which we shall be then sitting, good pistols anda delicious draught; but, on the other hand, you must promise me not toattempt your life before that time. "

"Oh, I also swear it!" Monte Cristo drew the young man towards him, and pressed him for some time to his heart. "And now, " he said, "after to-day, you will come and live with me; you can occupy Haidee'sapartment, and my daughter will at least be replaced by my son. "

"Haidee?" said Morrel, "what has become of her?"

"She departed last night. "

"To leave you?"

"To wait for me. Hold yourself ready then to join me at the ChampsElysees, and lead me out of this house without any one seeing mydeparture. " Maximilian hung his head, and obeyed with childlikereverence.

Chapter 106. Dividing the Proceeds.

The apartment on the second floor of the house in the RueSaint-Germain-des-Pres, where Albert de Morcerf had selected a home forhis mother, was let to a very mysterious person. This was a man whoseface the concierge himself had never seen, for in the winter his chinwas buried in one of the large red handkerchiefs worn by gentlemen'scoachmen on a cold night, and in the summer he made a point of alwaysblowing his nose just as he approached the door. Contrary to custom, this gentleman had not been watched, for as the report ran that he wasa person of high rank, and one who would allow no impertinentinterference, his incognito was strictly respected.

His visits were tolerably regular, though occasionally he appeareda little before or after his time, but generally, both in summer andwinter, he took possession of his apartment about four o'clock, thoughhe never spent the night there. At half-past three in the winter thefire was lighted by the discreet servant, who had the superintendence ofthe little apartment, and in the summer ices were placed on the tableat the same hour. At four o'clock, as we have already stated, themysterious personage arrived. Twenty minutes afterwards a carriagestopped at the house, a lady alighted in a black or dark blue dress, andalways thickly veiled; she passed like a shadow through the lodge, andran up-stairs without a sound escaping under the touch of her lightfoot. No one ever asked her where she was going. Her face, therefore, like that of the gentleman, was perfectly unknown to the two concierges, who were perhaps unequalled throughout the capital for discretion. We need not say she stopped at the second floor. Then she tapped in apeculiar manner at a door, which after being opened to admit her wasagain fastened, and curiosity penetrated no farther. They used the sameprecautions in leaving as in entering the house. The lady always leftfirst, and as soon as she had stepped into her carriage, it drove away, sometimes towards the right hand, sometimes to the left; then abouttwenty minutes afterwards the gentleman would also leave, buried in hiscravat or concealed by his handkerchief.

The day after Monte Cristo had called upon Danglars, the mysteriouslodger entered at ten o'clock in the morning instead of four in theafternoon. Almost directly afterwards, without the usual interval oftime, a cab arrived, and the veiled lady ran hastily up-stairs. Thedoor opened, but before it could be closed, the lady exclaimed: "Oh, Lucien--oh, my friend!" The concierge therefore heard for the first timethat the lodger's name was Lucien; still, as he was the very perfectionof a door-keeper, he made up his mind not to tell his wife. "Well, what is the matter, my dear?" asked the gentleman whose name the lady'sagitation revealed; "tell me what is the matter. "

"Oh, Lucien, can I confide in you?"

"Of course, you know you can do so. But what can be the matter?Your note of this morning has completely bewildered me. Thisprecipitation--this unusual appointment. Come, ease me of my anxiety, orelse frighten me at once. "

"Lucien, a great event has happened!" said the lady, glancinginquiringly at Lucien, --"M. Danglars left last night!"

"Left?--M. Danglars left? Where has he gone?"

"I do not know. "

"What do you mean? Has he gone intending not to return?"

"Undoubtedly;--at ten o'clock at night his horses took him to thebarrier of Charenton; there a post-chaise was waiting for him--heentered it with his valet de chambre, saying that he was going toFontainebleau. "

"Then what did you mean"--

"Stay--he left a letter for me. "

"A letter?"

"Yes; read it. " And the baroness took from her pocket a letter which shegave to Debray. Debray paused a moment before reading, as if tryingto guess its contents, or perhaps while making up his mind how to act, whatever it might contain. No doubt his ideas were arranged in a fewminutes, for he began reading the letter which caused so much uneasinessin the heart of the baroness, and which ran as follows:--

"Madame and most faithful wife. "

Debray mechanically stopped and looked at the baroness, whose facebecame covered with blushes. "Read, " she said.

Debray continued:--

"When you receive this, you will no longer have a husband. Oh, youneed not be alarmed, you will only have lost him as you have lost yourdaughter; I mean that I shall be travelling on one of the thirty orforty roads leading out of France. I owe you some explanations for myconduct, and as you are a woman that can perfectly understand me, I willgive them. Listen, then. I received this morning five millions which Ipaid away; almost directly afterwards another demand for the same sumwas presented to me; I put this creditor off till to-morrow and I intendleaving to-day, to escape that to-morrow, which would be rather toounpleasant for me to endure. You understand this, do you not, my mostprecious wife? I say you understand this, because you are as conversantwith my affairs as I am; indeed, I think you understand them better, since I am ignorant of what has become of a considerable portion of myfortune, once very tolerable, while I am sure, madame, that you knowperfectly well. For women have infallible instincts; they can evenexplain the marvellous by an algebraic calculation they have invented;but I, who only understand my own figures, know nothing more than thatone day these figures deceived me. Have you admired the rapidity of myfall? Have you been slightly dazzled at the sudden fusion of my ingots?I confess I have seen nothing but the fire; let us hope you have foundsome gold among the ashes. With this consoling idea, I leave you, madame, and most prudent wife, without any conscientious reproach forabandoning you; you have friends left, and the ashes I have alreadymentioned, and above all the liberty I hasten to restore to you. Andhere, madame, I must add another word of explanation. So long as I hopedyou were working for the good of our house and for the fortune of ourdaughter, I philosophically closed my eyes; but as you have transformedthat house into a vast ruin I will not be the foundation of anotherman's fortune. You were rich when I married you, but little respected. Excuse me for speaking so very candidly, but as this is intendedonly for ourselves, I do not see why I should weigh my words. I haveaugmented our fortune, and it has continued to increase during thelast fifteen years, till extraordinary and unexpected catastropheshave suddenly overturned it, --without any fault of mine, I can honestlydeclare. You, madame, have only sought to increase your own, and I amconvinced that you have succeeded. I leave you, therefore, as I tookyou, --rich, but little respected. Adieu! I also intend from this timeto work on my own account. Accept my acknowledgments for the example youhave set me, and which I intend following.

"Your very devoted husband, "Baron Danglars. "

The baroness had watched Debray while he read this long and painfulletter, and saw him, notwithstanding his self-control, change coloronce or twice. When he had ended the perusal, he folded the letter andresumed his pensive attitude. "Well?" asked Madame Danglars, with ananxiety easy to be understood.

"Well, madame?" unhesitatingly repeated Debray.

"With what ideas does that letter inspire you?"

"Oh, it is simple enough, madame; it inspires me with the idea that M. Danglars has left suspiciously. "

"Certainly; but is this all you have to say to me?"

"I do not understand you, " said Debray with freezing coldness.

"He is gone! Gone, never to return!"

"Oh, madame, do not think that!"

"I tell you he will never return. I know his character; he is inflexiblein any resolutions formed for his own interests. If he could have madeany use of me, he would have taken me with him; he leaves me in Paris, as our separation will conduce to his benefit;--therefore he has gone, and I am free forever, " added Madame Danglars, in the same supplicatingtone. Debray, instead of answering, allowed her to remain in an attitudeof nervous inquiry. "Well?" she said at length, "do you not answer me?"

"I have but one question to ask you, --what do you intend to do?"

"I was going to ask you, " replied the baroness with a beating heart.

"Ah, then, you wish to ask advice of me?"

"Yes; I do wish to ask your advice, " said Madame Danglars with anxiousexpectation.

"Then if you wish to take my advice, " said the young man coldly, "Iwould recommend you to travel. "

"To travel!" she murmured.

"Certainly; as M. Danglars says, you are rich, and perfectly free. Inmy opinion, a withdrawal from Paris is absolutely necessary after thedouble catastrophe of Mademoiselle Danglars' broken contract and M. Danglars' disappearance. The world will think you abandoned and poor, for the wife of a bankrupt would never be forgiven, were she to keep upan appearance of opulence. You have only to remain in Paris for about afortnight, telling the world you are abandoned, and relating the detailsof this desertion to your best friends, who will soon spread the report. Then you can quit your house, leaving your jewels and giving up yourjointure, and every one's mouth will be filled with praises of yourdisinterestedness. They will know you are deserted, and think you alsopoor, for I alone know your real financial position, and am quite readyto give up my accounts as an honest partner. " The dread with which thepale and motionless baroness listened to this, was equalled by the calmindifference with which Debray had spoken. "Deserted?" she repeated;"ah, yes, I am, indeed, deserted! You are right, sir, and no one candoubt my position. " These were the only words that this proud andviolently enamoured woman could utter in response to Debray.

"But then you are rich, --very rich, indeed, " continued Debray, takingout some papers from his pocket-book, which he spread upon the table. Madame Danglars did not see them; she was engaged in stilling thebeatings of her heart, and restraining the tears which were ready togush forth. At length a sense of dignity prevailed, and if she did notentirely master her agitation, she at least succeeded in preventing thefall of a single tear. "Madame, " said Debray, "it is nearly six monthssince we have been associated. You furnished a principal of 100, 000francs. Our partnership began in the month of April. In May we commencedoperations, and in the course of the month gained 450, 000 francs. In June the profit amounted to 900, 000. In July we added 1, 700, 000francs, --it was, you know, the month of the Spanish bonds. In August welost 300, 000 francs at the beginning of the month, but on the 13th wemade up for it, and we now find that our accounts, reckoning from thefirst day of partnership up to yesterday, when I closed them, showeda capital of 2, 400, 000 francs, that is, 1, 200, 000 for each of us. Now, madame, " said Debray, delivering up his accounts in the methodicalmanner of a stockbroker, "there are still 80, 000 francs, the interest ofthis money, in my hands. "

"But, " said the baroness, "I thought you never put the money out tointerest. "

"Excuse me, madame, " said Debray coldly, "I had your permission to doso, and I have made use of it. There are, then, 40, 000 francs for yourshare, besides the 100, 000 you furnished me to begin with, making in all1, 340, 000 francs for your portion. Now, madame, I took the precaution ofdrawing out your money the day before yesterday; it is not long ago, yousee, and I was in continual expectation of being called on to deliver upmy accounts. There is your money, --half in bank-notes, the other halfin checks payable to bearer. I say there, for as I did not considermy house safe enough, or lawyers sufficiently discreet, and as landedproperty carries evidence with it, and moreover since you have no rightto possess anything independent of your husband, I have kept this sum, now your whole fortune, in a chest concealed under that closet, and forgreater security I myself concealed it there.

"Now, madame, " continued Debray, first opening the closet, thenthe chest;--"now, madame, here are 800 notes of 1, 000. Francs each, resembling, as you see, a large book bound in iron; to this I add acertificate in the funds of 25, 000. Francs; then, for the odd cash, making I think about 110, 000. Francs, here is a check upon my banker, who, not being M. Danglars, will pay you the amount, you may restassured. " Madame Danglars mechanically took the check, the bond, and theheap of bank-notes. This enormous fortune made no great appearance onthe table. Madame Danglars, with tearless eyes, but with her breastheaving with concealed emotion, placed the bank-notes in her bag, putthe certificate and check into her pocket-book, and then, standing paleand mute, awaited one kind word of consolation. But she waited in vain.

"Now, madame, " said Debray, "you have a splendid fortune, an income ofabout 60, 000 livres a year, which is enormous for a woman who cannotkeep an establishment here for a year, at least. You will be ableto indulge all your fancies; besides, should you find your incomeinsufficient, you can, for the sake of the past, madame, make use ofmine; and I am ready to offer you all I possess, on loan. "

"Thank you, sir--thank you, " replied the baroness; "you forget thatwhat you have just paid me is much more than a poor woman requires, whointends for some time, at least, to retire from the world. "



Debray was, for a moment, surprised, but immediately recovering himself, he bowed with an air which seemed to say, "As you please, madame. "

Madame Danglars had until then, perhaps, hoped for something; but whenshe saw the careless bow of Debray, and the glance by which it wasaccompanied, together with his significant silence, she raised her head, and without passion or violence or even hesitation, ran down-stairs, disdaining to address a last farewell to one who could thus part fromher. "Bah, " said Debray, when she had left, "these are fine projects!She will remain at home, read novels, and speculate at cards, since shecan no longer do so on the Bourse. " Then taking up his account book, hecancelled with the greatest care all the entries of the amounts he hadjust paid away. "I have 1, 060, 000 francs remaining, " he said. "What apity Mademoiselle de Villefort is dead! She suited me in every respect, and I would have married her. " And he calmly waited until the twentyminutes had elapsed after Madame Danglars' departure before he left thehouse. During this time he occupied himself in making figures, with hiswatch by his side.

Asmodeus--that diabolical personage, who would have been created byevery fertile imagination if Le Sage had not acquired the priority inhis great masterpiece--would have enjoyed a singular spectacle, ifhe had lifted up the roof of the little house in the RueSaint-Germain-des-Pres, while Debray was casting up his figures. Abovethe room in which Debray had been dividing two millions and a half withMadame Danglars was another, inhabited by persons who have played tooprominent a part in the incidents we have related for their appearancenot to create some interest. Mercedes and Albert were in that room. Mercedes was much changed within the last few days; not that even in herdays of fortune she had ever dressed with the magnificent display whichmakes us no longer able to recognize a woman when she appears in aplain and simple attire; nor indeed, had she fallen into that state ofdepression where it is impossible to conceal the garb of misery; no, the change in Mercedes was that her eye no longer sparkled, her lipsno longer smiled, and there was now a hesitation in uttering the wordswhich formerly sprang so fluently from her ready wit.

It was not poverty which had broken her spirit; it was not a wantof courage which rendered her poverty burdensome. Mercedes, althoughdeposed from the exalted position she had occupied, lost in the sphereshe had now chosen, like a person passing from a room splendidly lightedinto utter darkness, appeared like a queen, fallen from her palace toa hovel, and who, reduced to strict necessity, could neither becomereconciled to the earthen vessels she was herself forced to placeupon the table, nor to the humble pallet which had become her bed. Thebeautiful Catalane and noble countess had lost both her proud glance andcharming smile, because she saw nothing but misery around her; the wallswere hung with one of the gray papers which economical landlords chooseas not likely to show the dirt; the floor was uncarpeted; the furnitureattracted the attention to the poor attempt at luxury; indeed, everything offended eyes accustomed to refinement and elegance.

Madame de Morcerf had lived there since leaving her house; the continualsilence of the spot oppressed her; still, seeing that Albert continuallywatched her countenance to judge the state of her feelings, sheconstrained herself to assume a monotonous smile of the lips alone, which, contrasted with the sweet and beaming expression that usuallyshone from her eyes, seemed like "moonlight on a statue, "--yieldinglight without warmth. Albert, too, was ill at ease; the remains ofluxury prevented him from sinking into his actual position. If he wishedto go out without gloves, his hands appeared too white; if he wished towalk through the town, his boots seemed too highly polished. Yet thesetwo noble and intelligent creatures, united by the indissoluble tiesof maternal and filial love, had succeeded in tacitly understanding oneanother, and economizing their stores, and Albert had been able to tellhis mother without extorting a change of countenance, --"Mother, we haveno more money. "

Mercedes had never known misery; she had often, in her youth, spoken ofpoverty, but between want and necessity, those synonymous words, thereis a wide difference. Amongst the Catalans, Mercedes wished for athousand things, but still she never really wanted any. So long as thenets were good, they caught fish; and so long as they sold their fish, they were able to buy twine for new nets. And then, shut out fromfriendship, having but one affection, which could not be mixed up withher ordinary pursuits, she thought of herself--of no one but herself. Upon the little she earned she lived as well as she could; now therewere two to be supported, and nothing to live upon.

Winter approached. Mercedes had no fire in that cold and nakedroom--she, who was accustomed to stoves which heated the house fromthe hall to the boudoir; she had not even one little flower--she whoseapartment had been a conservatory of costly exotics. But she had herson. Hitherto the excitement of fulfilling a duty had sustained them. Excitement, like enthusiasm, sometimes renders us unconscious to thethings of earth. But the excitement had calmed down, and they feltthemselves obliged to descend from dreams to reality; after havingexhausted the ideal, they found they must talk of the actual.

"Mother, " exclaimed Albert, just as Madame Danglars was descending thestairs, "let us reckon our riches, if you please; I want capital tobuild my plans upon. "

"Capital--nothing!" replied Mercedes with a mournful smile.

"No, mother, --capital 3, 000 francs. And I have an idea of our leading adelightful life upon this 3, 000 francs. "

"Child!" sighed Mercedes.

"Alas, dear mother, " said the young man, "I have unhappily spent toomuch of your money not to know the value of it. These 3, 000 francsare enormous, and I intend building upon this foundation a miraculouscertainty for the future. "

"You say this, my dear boy; but do you think we ought to accept these3, 000 francs?" said Mercedes, coloring.

"I think so, " answered Albert in a firm tone. "We will accept them themore readily, since we have them not here; you know they are buried inthe garden of the little house in the Allees de Meillan, at Marseilles. With 200 francs we can reach Marseilles. "

"With 200 francs?--are you sure, Albert?"

"Oh, as for that, I have made inquiries respecting the diligences andsteamboats, and my calculations are made. You will take your placein the coupe to Chalons. You see, mother, I treat you handsomely forthirty-five francs. " Albert then took a pen, and wrote:--

Frs. Coupe, thirty-five francs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35. From Chalons to Lyons you will go on by the steamboat. . 6. From Lyons to Avignon (still by steamboat). . . . . . . . . . . . . 16. From Avignon to Marseilles, seven francs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7. Expenses on the road, about fifty francs. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 50. Total. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 114 frs.

"Let us put down 120, " added Albert, smiling. "You see I am generous, amI not, mother?"

"But you, my poor child?"

"I? do you not see that I reserve eighty francs for myself? A young mandoes not require luxuries; besides, I know what travelling is. "

"With a post-chaise and valet de chambre?"

"Any way, mother. "

"Well, be it so. But these 200 francs?"

"Here they are, and 200 more besides. See, I have sold my watch for100 francs, and the guard and seals for 300. How fortunate that theornaments were worth more than the watch. Still the same story ofsuperfluities! Now I think we are rich, since instead of the 114 francswe require for the journey we find ourselves in possession of 250. "

"But we owe something in this house?"

"Thirty francs; but I pay that out of my 150 francs, --that isunderstood, --and as I require only eighty francs for my journey, you seeI am overwhelmed with luxury. But that is not all. What do you say tothis, mother?"

And Albert took out of a little pocket-book with golden clasps, aremnant of his old fancies, or perhaps a tender souvenir from one ofthe mysterious and veiled ladies who used to knock at his littledoor, --Albert took out of this pocket-book a note of 1, 000 francs.

"What is this?" asked Mercedes.

"A thousand francs. "

"But whence have you obtained them?"

"Listen to me, mother, and do not yield too much to agitation. " AndAlbert, rising, kissed his mother on both cheeks, then stood looking ather. "You cannot imagine, mother, how beautiful I think you!" said theyoung man, impressed with a profound feeling of filial love. "You are, indeed, the most beautiful and most noble woman I ever saw!"

"Dear child!" said Mercedes, endeavoring in vain to restrain a tearwhich glistened in the corner of her eye. "Indeed, you only wantedmisfortune to change my love for you to admiration. I am not unhappywhile I possess my son!"

"Ah, just so, " said Albert; "here begins the trial. Do you know thedecision we have come to, mother?"

"Have we come to any?"

"Yes; it is decided that you are to live at Marseilles, and that I am toleave for Africa, where I will earn for myself the right to use the nameI now bear, instead of the one I have thrown aside. " Mercedes sighed. "Well, mother, I yesterday engaged myself as substitute in the Spahis, "[*] added the young man, lowering his eyes with a certain feeling ofshame, for even he was unconscious of the sublimity of his self-abasement. "I thought my body was my own, and that I might sell it. Iyesterday took the place of another. I sold myself for more than Ithought I was worth, " he added, attempting to smile; "I fetched 2, 000francs. "

* The Spahis are French cavalry reserved for service in Africa.

"Then these 1, 000 francs"--said Mercedes, shuddering--

"Are the half of the sum, mother; the other will be paid in a year. "

Mercedes raised her eyes to heaven with an expression it would beimpossible to describe, and tears, which had hitherto been restrained, now yielded to her emotion, and ran down her cheeks.

"The price of his blood!" she murmured.

"Yes, if I am killed, " said Albert, laughing. "But I assure you, mother, I have a strong intention of defending my person, and I never felt halfso strong an inclination to live as I do now. "

"Merciful heavens!"

"Besides, mother, why should you make up your mind that I am to bekilled? Has Lamoriciere, that Ney of the South, been killed? HasChangarnier been killed? Has Bedeau been killed? Has Morrel, whom weknow, been killed? Think of your joy, mother, when you see me returnwith an embroidered uniform! I declare, I expect to look magnificentin it, and chose that regiment only from vanity. " Mercedes sighed whileendeavoring to smile; the devoted mother felt that she ought not toallow the whole weight of the sacrifice to fall upon her son. "Well, now you understand, mother!" continued Albert; "here are more than 4, 000francs settled on you; upon these you can live at least two years. "

"Do you think so?" said Mercedes. These words were uttered in somournful a tone that their real meaning did not escape Albert; he felthis heart beat, and taking his mother's hand within his own he said, tenderly, --

"Yes, you will live!"

"I shall live!--then you will not leave me, Albert?"

"Mother, I must go, " said Albert in a firm, calm voice; "you love metoo well to wish me to remain useless and idle with you; besides, I havesigned. "

"You will obey your own wish and the will of heaven!"

"Not my own wish, mother, but reason--necessity. Are we not twodespairing creatures? What is life to you?--Nothing. What is life tome?--Very little without you, mother; for believe me, but for you Ishould have ceased to live on the day I doubted my father and renouncedhis name. Well, I will live, if you promise me still to hope; and ifyou grant me the care of your future prospects, you will redouble mystrength. Then I will go to the governor of Algeria; he has a royalheart, and is essentially a soldier; I will tell him my gloomy story. I will beg him to turn his eyes now and then towards me, and if hekeep his word and interest himself for me, in six months I shall be anofficer, or dead. If I am an officer, your fortune is certain, for Ishall have money enough for both, and, moreover, a name we shall bothbe proud of, since it will be our own. If I am killed--well then mother, you can also die, and there will be an end of our misfortunes. "

"It is well, " replied Mercedes, with her eloquent glance; "you areright, my love; let us prove to those who are watching our actions thatwe are worthy of compassion. "

"But let us not yield to gloomy apprehensions, " said the young man; "Iassure you we are, or rather we shall be, very happy. You are a woman atonce full of spirit and resignation; I have become simple in my tastes, and am without passion, I hope. Once in service, I shall be rich--oncein M. Dantes' house, you will be at rest. Let us strive, I beseechyou, --let us strive to be cheerful. "

"Yes, let us strive, for you ought to live, and to be happy, Albert. "

"And so our division is made, mother, " said the young man, affectingease of mind. "We can now part; come, I shall engage your passage. "

"And you, my dear boy?"

"I shall stay here for a few days longer; we must accustom ourselves toparting. I want recommendations and some information relative to Africa. I will join you again at Marseilles. "

"Well, be it so--let us part, " said Mercedes, folding around hershoulders the only shawl she had taken away, and which accidentallyhappened to be a valuable black cashmere. Albert gathered up his papershastily, rang the bell to pay the thirty francs he owed to the landlord, and offering his arm to his mother, they descended the stairs. Some onewas walking down before them, and this person, hearing the rustling of asilk dress, turned around. "Debray!" muttered Albert.

"You, Morcerf?" replied the secretary, resting on the stairs. Curiosityhad vanquished the desire of preserving his incognito, and he wasrecognized. It was, indeed, strange in this unknown spot to find theyoung man whose misfortunes had made so much noise in Paris.

"Morcerf!" repeated Debray. Then noticing in the dim light the stillyouthful and veiled figure of Madame de Morcerf:--"Pardon me, " he addedwith a smile, "I leave you, Albert. " Albert understood his thoughts. "Mother, " he said, turning towards Mercedes, "this is M. Debray, secretary of the minister for the interior, once a friend of mine. "

"How once?" stammered Debray; "what do you mean?"

"I say so, M. Debray, because I have no friends now, and I ought notto have any. I thank you for having recognized me, sir. " Debray steppedforward, and cordially pressed the hand of his interlocutor. "Believeme, dear Albert, " he said, with all the emotion he was capable offeeling, --"believe me, I feel deeply for your misfortunes, and if in anyway I can serve you, I am yours. "

"Thank you, sir, " said Albert, smiling. "In the midst of ourmisfortunes, we are still rich enough not to require assistance from anyone. We are leaving Paris, and when our journey is paid, we shall have5, 000 francs left. " The blood mounted to the temples of Debray, who helda million in his pocket-book, and unimaginative as he was he could nothelp reflecting that the same house had contained two women, one ofwhom, justly dishonored, had left it poor with 1, 500, 000. Francs underher cloak, while the other, unjustly stricken, but sublime in hermisfortune, was yet rich with a few deniers. This parallel disturbed hisusual politeness, the philosophy he witnessed appalled him, he muttereda few words of general civility and ran down-stairs.

That day the minister's clerks and the subordinates had a great deal toput up with from his ill-humor. But that same night, he found himselfthe possessor of a fine house, situated on the Boulevard de laMadeleine, and an income of 50, 000 livres. The next day, just as Debraywas signing the deed, that is about five o'clock in the afternoon, Madame de Morcerf, after having affectionately embraced her son, enteredthe coupe of the diligence, which closed upon her. A man was hidden inLafitte's banking-house, behind one of the little arched windows whichare placed above each desk; he saw Mercedes enter the diligence, and healso saw Albert withdraw. Then he passed his hand across his forehead, which was clouded with doubt. "Alas, " he exclaimed, "how can I restorethe happiness I have taken away from these poor innocent creatures? Godhelp me!"

Chapter 107. The Lions' Den.

One division of La Force, in which the most dangerous and desperateprisoners are confined, is called the court of Saint-Bernard. Theprisoners, in their expressive language, have named it the "Lions' Den, "probably because the captives possess teeth which frequently gnaw thebars, and sometimes the keepers also. It is a prison within a prison;the walls are double the thickness of the rest. The gratings are everyday carefully examined by jailers, whose herculean proportions and coldpitiless expression prove them to have been chosen to reign over theirsubjects for their superior activity and intelligence. The court-yard ofthis quarter is enclosed by enormous walls, over which the sun glancesobliquely, when it deigns to penetrate into this gulf of moral andphysical deformity. On this paved yard are to be seen, --pacing to andfro from morning till night, pale, careworn, and haggard, like somany shadows, --the men whom justice holds beneath the steel she issharpening. There, crouched against the side of the wall which attractsand retains the most heat, they may be seen sometimes talking to oneanother, but more frequently alone, watching the door, which sometimesopens to call forth one from the gloomy assemblage, or to throw inanother outcast from society.

The court of Saint-Bernard has its own particular apartment for thereception of guests; it is a long rectangle, divided by two uprightgratings placed at a distance of three feet from one another to preventa visitor from shaking hands with or passing anything to the prisoners. It is a wretched, damp, nay, even horrible spot, more especially when weconsider the agonizing conferences which have taken place between thoseiron bars. And yet, frightful though this spot may be, it is looked uponas a kind of paradise by the men whose days are numbered; it is so rarefor them to leave the Lions' Den for any other place than the barrierSaint-Jacques or the galleys!

In the court which we have attempted to describe, and from which a dampvapor was rising, a young man with his hands in his pockets, who hadexcited much curiosity among the inhabitants of the "Den, " might be seenwalking. The cut of his clothes would have made him pass for an elegantman, if those clothes had not been torn to shreds; still they did notshow signs of wear, and the fine cloth, beneath the careful hands ofthe prisoner, soon recovered its gloss in the parts which were stillperfect, for the wearer tried his best to make it assume the appearanceof a new coat. He bestowed the same attention upon the cambric front ofa shirt, which had considerably changed in color since his entrance intothe prison, and he polished his varnished boots with the corner of ahandkerchief embroidered with initials surmounted by a coronet. Someof the inmates of the "Lions' Den" were watching the operations ofthe prisoner's toilet with considerable interest. "See, the prince ispluming himself, " said one of the thieves. "He's a fine looking fellow, "said another; "if he had only a comb and hair-grease, he'd take theshine off the gentlemen in white kids. "

"His coat looks almost new, and his boots shine like a nigger's face. It's pleasant to have such well-dressed comrades; but didn't thosegendarmes behave shameful?--must 'a been jealous, to tear such clothes!"

"He looks like a big-bug, " said another; "dresses in fine style. And, then, to be here so young! Oh, what larks!" Meanwhile the object ofthis hideous admiration approached the wicket, against which one of thekeepers was leaning. "Come, sir, " he said, "lend me twenty francs; youwill soon be paid; you run no risks with me. Remember, I have relationswho possess more millions than you have deniers. Come, I beseechyou, lend me twenty francs, so that I may buy a dressing-gown; it isintolerable always to be in a coat and boots! And what a coat, sir, fora prince of the Cavalcanti!" The keeper turned his back, and shruggedhis shoulders; he did not even laugh at what would have caused any oneelse to do so; he had heard so many utter the same things, --indeed, heheard nothing else.

"Come, " said Andrea, "you are a man void of compassion; I'll have youturned out. " This made the keeper turn around, and he burst into a loudlaugh. The prisoners then approached and formed a circle. "I tell youthat with that wretched sum, " continued Andrea, "I could obtain acoat, and a room in which to receive the illustrious visitor I am dailyexpecting. "

"Of course--of course, " said the prisoners;--"any one can see he's agentleman!"

"Well, then, lend him the twenty francs, " said the keeper, leaning onthe other shoulder; "surely you will not refuse a comrade!"

"I am no comrade of these people, " said the young man, proudly, "youhave no right to insult me thus. "

The thieves looked at one another with low murmurs, and a storm gatheredover the head of the aristocratic prisoner, raised less by his ownwords than by the manner of the keeper. The latter, sure of quellingthe tempest when the waves became too violent, allowed them to rise toa certain pitch that he might be revenged on the importunate Andrea, and besides it would afford him some recreation during the long day. Thethieves had already approached Andrea, some screaming, "La savate--Lasavate!" [*] a cruel operation, which consists in cuffing a comrade whomay have fallen into disgrace, not with an old shoe, but with aniron-heeled one. Others proposed the "anguille, " another kind ofrecreation, in which a handkerchief is filled with sand, pebbles, andtwo-sous pieces, when they have them, which the wretches beat like aflail over the head and shoulders of the unhappy sufferer. "Let ushorsewhip the fine gentleman!" said others.

* Savate: an old shoe.

But Andrea, turning towards them, winked his eyes, rolled his tonguearound his cheeks, and smacked his lips in a manner equivalent to ahundred words among the bandits when forced to be silent. It was aMasonic sign Caderousse had taught him. He was immediately recognized asone of them; the handkerchief was thrown down, and the iron-heeled shoereplaced on the foot of the wretch to whom it belonged. Some voices wereheard to say that the gentleman was right; that he intended to becivil, in his way, and that they would set the example of liberty ofconscience, --and the mob retired. The keeper was so stupefied at thisscene that he took Andrea by the hands and began examining his person, attributing the sudden submission of the inmates of the Lions' Dento something more substantial than mere fascination. Andrea made noresistance, although he protested against it. Suddenly a voice was heardat the wicket. "Benedetto!" exclaimed an inspector. The keeper relaxedhis hold. "I am called, " said Andrea. "To the visitors' room!" said thesame voice.

"You see some one pays me a visit. Ah, my dear sir, you will see whethera Cavalcanti is to be treated like a common person!" And Andrea, glidingthrough the court like a black shadow, rushed out through the wicket, leaving his comrades, and even the keeper, lost in wonder. Certainlya call to the visitors' room had scarcely astonished Andrea less thanthemselves, for the wily youth, instead of making use of his privilegeof waiting to be claimed on his entry into La Force, had maintaineda rigid silence. "Everything, " he said, "proves me to be under theprotection of some powerful person, --this sudden fortune, the facilitywith which I have overcome all obstacles, an unexpected family and anillustrious name awarded to me, gold showered down upon me, and the mostsplendid alliances about to be entered into. An unhappy lapse of fortuneand the absence of my protector have cast me down, certainly, butnot forever. The hand which has retreated for a while will be againstretched forth to save me at the very moment when I shall think myselfsinking into the abyss. Why should I risk an imprudent step? It mightalienate my protector. He has two means of extricating me from thisdilemma, --the one by a mysterious escape, managed through bribery; theother by buying off my judges with gold. I will say and do nothing untilI am convinced that he has quite abandoned me, and then"--

Andrea had formed a plan which was tolerably clever. The unfortunateyouth was intrepid in the attack, and rude in the defence. He had bornewith the public prison, and with privations of all sorts; still, bydegrees nature, or rather custom, had prevailed, and he suffered frombeing naked, dirty, and hungry. It was at this moment of discomfort thatthe inspector's voice called him to the visiting-room. Andrea felt hisheart leap with joy. It was too soon for a visit from the examiningmagistrate, and too late for one from the director of the prison, or thedoctor; it must, then, be the visitor he hoped for. Behind the gratingof the room into which Andrea had been led, he saw, while his eyesdilated with surprise, the dark and intelligent face of M. Bertuccio, who was also gazing with sad astonishment upon the iron bars, the bolteddoors, and the shadow which moved behind the other grating.

"Ah, " said Andrea, deeply affected.

"Good morning, Benedetto, " said Bertuccio, with his deep, hollow voice.

"You--you?" said the young man, looking fearfully around him.

"Do you not recognize me, unhappy child?"

"Silence, --be silent!" said Andrea, who knew the delicate sense ofhearing possessed by the walls; "for heaven's sake, do not speak soloud!"

"You wish to speak with me alone, do you not?" said Bertuccio.

"Oh, yes. "

"That is well. " And Bertuccio, feeling in his pocket, signed to a keeperwhom he saw through the window of the wicket.

"Read?" he said.

"What is that?" asked Andrea.

"An order to conduct you to a room, and to leave you there to talk tome. "

"Oh, " cried Andrea, leaping with joy. Then he mentally added, --"Still myunknown protector! I am not forgotten. They wish for secrecy, since weare to converse in a private room. I understand, Bertuccio has been sentby my protector. "

The keeper spoke for a moment with an official, then opened the irongates and conducted Andrea to a room on the first floor. The room waswhitewashed, as is the custom in prisons, but it looked quite brilliantto a prisoner, though a stove, a bed, a chair, and a table formed thewhole of its sumptuous furniture. Bertuccio sat down upon the chair, Andrea threw himself upon the bed; the keeper retired.

"Now, " said the steward, "what have you to tell me?"

"And you?" said Andrea.

"You speak first. "

"Oh, no. You must have much to tell me, since you have come to seek me. "

"Well, be it so. You have continued your course of villany; you haverobbed--you have assassinated. "

"Well, I should say! If you had me taken to a private room only to tellme this, you might have saved yourself the trouble. I know all thesethings. But there are some with which, on the contrary, I am notacquainted. Let us talk of those, if you please. Who sent you?"

"Come, come, you are going on quickly, M. Benedetto!"

"Yes, and to the point. Let us dispense with useless words. Who sendsyou?"

"No one. "

"How did you know I was in prison?"

"I recognized you, some time since, as the insolent dandy who sogracefully mounted his horse in the Champs Elysees. "

"Oh, the Champs Elysees? Ah, yes; we burn, as they say at the gameof pincette. The Champs Elysees? Come, let us talk a little about myfather. "

"Who, then, am I?"

"You, sir?--you are my adopted father. But it was not you, I presume, who placed at my disposal 100, 000 francs, which I spent in four or fivemonths; it was not you who manufactured an Italian gentleman for myfather; it was not you who introduced me into the world, and had meinvited to a certain dinner at Auteuil, which I fancy I am eatingat this moment, in company with the most distinguished people inParis--amongst the rest with a certain procureur, whose acquaintance Idid very wrong not to cultivate, for he would have been very usefulto me just now;--it was not you, in fact, who bailed me for one or twomillions, when the fatal discovery of my little secret took place. Come, speak, my worthy Corsican, speak!"

"What do you wish me to say?"

"I will help you. You were speaking of the Champs Elysees just now, worthy foster-father. "

"Well?"

"Well, in the Champs Elysees there resides a very rich gentleman. "

"At whose house you robbed and murdered, did you not?"

"I believe I did. "

"The Count of Monte Cristo?"

"'Tis you who have named him, as M. Racine says. Well, am I to rush intohis arms, and strain him to my heart, crying, 'My father, my father!'like Monsieur Pixerecourt. " [*]

"Do not let us jest, " gravely replied Bertuccio, "and dare not to utterthat name again as you have pronounced it. "

* Guilbert de Pixerecourt, French dramatist (1775-1844).

"Bah, " said Andrea, a little overcome, by the solemnity of Bertuccio'smanner, "why not?"

"Because the person who bears it is too highly favored by heaven to bethe father of such a wretch as you. "

"Oh, these are fine words. "

"And there will be fine doings, if you do not take care. "

"Menaces--I do not fear them. I will say"--

"Do you think you are engaged with a pygmy like yourself?" saidBertuccio, in so calm a tone, and with so steadfast a look, thatAndrea was moved to the very soul. "Do you think you have to do withgalley-slaves, or novices in the world? Benedetto, you are fallen intoterrible hands; they are ready to open for you--make use of them. Do notplay with the thunderbolt they have laid aside for a moment, but whichthey can take up again instantly, if you attempt to intercept theirmovements. "

"My father--I will know who my father is, " said the obstinate youth; "Iwill perish if I must, but I will know it. What does scandal signifyto me? What possessions, what reputation, what 'pull, ' as Beauchampsays, --have I? You great people always lose something by scandal, notwithstanding your millions. Come, who is my father?"

"I came to tell you. "

"Ah, " cried Benedetto, his eyes sparkling with joy. Just then the dooropened, and the jailer, addressing himself to Bertuccio, said, --"Excuseme, sir, but the examining magistrate is waiting for the prisoner. "

"And so closes our interview, " said Andrea to the worthy steward; "Iwish the troublesome fellow were at the devil!"

"I will return to-morrow, " said Bertuccio.

"Good! Gendarmes, I am at your service. Ah, sir, do leave a few crownsfor me at the gate that I may have some things I am in need of!"

"It shall be done, " replied Bertuccio. Andrea extended his hand;Bertuccio kept his own in his pocket, and merely jingled a few piecesof money. "That's what I mean, " said Andrea, endeavoring to smile, quiteovercome by the strange tranquillity of Bertuccio. "Can I be deceived?"he murmured, as he stepped into the oblong and grated vehicle which theycall "the salad basket. " "Never mind, we shall see! To-morrow, then!" headded, turning towards Bertuccio.

"To-morrow!" replied the steward.

Chapter 108. The Judge.

We remember that the Abbe Busoni remained alone with Noirtier in thechamber of death, and that the old man and the priest were the soleguardians of the young girl's body. Perhaps it was the Christianexhortations of the abbe, perhaps his kind charity, perhaps hispersuasive words, which had restored the courage of Noirtier, for eversince he had conversed with the priest his violent despair had yieldedto a calm resignation which surprised all who knew his excessiveaffection for Valentine. M. De Villefort had not seen his father sincethe morning of the death. The whole establishment had been changed;another valet was engaged for himself, a new servant for Noirtier, twowomen had entered Madame de Villefort's service, --in fact, everywhere, to the concierge and coachmen, new faces were presented to the differentmasters of the house, thus widening the division which had alwaysexisted between the members of the same family.

The assizes, also, were about to begin, and Villefort, shut up in hisroom, exerted himself with feverish anxiety in drawing up the caseagainst the murderer of Caderousse. This affair, like all those in whichthe Count of Monte Cristo had interfered, caused a great sensation inParis. The proofs were certainly not convincing, since they rested upona few words written by an escaped galley-slave on his death-bed, and whomight have been actuated by hatred or revenge in accusing his companion. But the mind of the procureur was made up; he felt assured thatBenedetto was guilty, and he hoped by his skill in conducting thisaggravated case to flatter his self-love, which was about the onlyvulnerable point left in his frozen heart.

The case was therefore prepared owing to the incessant labor ofVillefort, who wished it to be the first on the list in the comingassizes. He had been obliged to seclude himself more than ever, to evadethe enormous number of applications presented to him for the purposeof obtaining tickets of admission to the court on the day of trial. Andthen so short a time had elapsed since the death of poor Valentine, and the gloom which overshadowed the house was so recent, that no onewondered to see the father so absorbed in his professional duties, whichwere the only means he had of dissipating his grief.

Once only had Villefort seen his father; it was the day after that uponwhich Bertuccio had paid his second visit to Benedetto, when the latterwas to learn his father's name. The magistrate, harassed and fatigued, had descended to the garden of his house, and in a gloomy mood, similarto that in which Tarquin lopped off the tallest poppies, he beganknocking off with his cane the long and dying branches of therose-trees, which, placed along the avenue, seemed like the spectres ofthe brilliant flowers which had bloomed in the past season. More thanonce he had reached that part of the garden where the famous boardedgate stood overlooking the deserted enclosure, always returning by thesame path, to begin his walk again, at the same pace and with the samegesture, when he accidentally turned his eyes towards the house, whencehe heard the noisy play of his son, who had returned from school tospend the Sunday and Monday with his mother. While doing so, he observedM. Noirtier at one of the open windows, where the old man had beenplaced that he might enjoy the last rays of the sun which yet yieldedsome heat, and was now shining upon the dying flowers and red leaves ofthe creeper which twined around the balcony.

The eye of the old man was riveted upon a spot which Villefort couldscarcely distinguish. His glance was so full of hate, of ferocity, andsavage impatience, that Villefort turned out of the path he had beenpursuing, to see upon what person this dark look was directed. Then hesaw beneath a thick clump of linden-trees, which were nearly divestedof foliage, Madame de Villefort sitting with a book in her hand, theperusal of which she frequently interrupted to smile upon her son, orto throw back his elastic ball, which he obstinately threw from thedrawing-room into the garden. Villefort became pale; he understood theold man's meaning. Noirtier continued to look at the same object, butsuddenly his glance was transferred from the wife to the husband, andVillefort himself had to submit to the searching investigation of eyes, which, while changing their direction and even their language, had lostnone of their menacing expression. Madame de Villefort, unconscious ofthe passions that exhausted their fire over her head, at that momentheld her son's ball, and was making signs to him to reclaim it with akiss. Edward begged for a long while, the maternal kiss probably notoffering sufficient recompense for the trouble he must take to obtainit; however at length he decided, leaped out of the window into acluster of heliotropes and daisies, and ran to his mother, his foreheadstreaming with perspiration. Madame de Villefort wiped his forehead, pressed her lips upon it, and sent him back with the ball in one handand some bonbons in the other.



Villefort, drawn by an irresistible attraction, like that of the bird tothe serpent, walked towards the house. As he approached it, Noirtier'sgaze followed him, and his eyes appeared of such a fiery brightness thatVillefort felt them pierce to the depths of his heart. In that earnestlook might be read a deep reproach, as well as a terrible menace. ThenNoirtier raised his eyes to heaven, as though to remind his son of aforgotten oath. "It is well, sir, " replied Villefort from below, --"itis well; have patience but one day longer; what I have said I will do. "Noirtier seemed to be calmed by these words, and turned his eyes withindifference to the other side. Villefort violently unbuttoned hisgreat-coat, which seemed to strangle him, and passing his livid handacross his forehead, entered his study.

The night was cold and still; the family had all retired to rest butVillefort, who alone remained up, and worked till five o'clock in themorning, reviewing the last interrogatories made the night before by theexamining magistrates, compiling the depositions of the witnesses, andputting the finishing stroke to the deed of accusation, which was one ofthe most energetic and best conceived of any he had yet delivered.

The next day, Monday, was the first sitting of the assizes. The morningdawned dull and gloomy, and Villefort saw the dim gray light shine uponthe lines he had traced in red ink. The magistrate had slept for a shorttime while the lamp sent forth its final struggles; its flickeringsawoke him, and he found his fingers as damp and purple as though theyhad been dipped in blood. He opened the window; a bright yellow streakcrossed the sky, and seemed to divide in half the poplars, which stoodout in black relief on the horizon. In the clover-fields beyond thechestnut-trees, a lark was mounting up to heaven, while pouring out herclear morning song. The damps of the dew bathed the head of Villefort, and refreshed his memory. "To-day, " he said with an effort, --"to-day theman who holds the blade of justice must strike wherever there is guilt. "Involuntarily his eyes wandered towards the window of Noirtier's room, where he had seen him the preceding night. The curtain was drawn, andyet the image of his father was so vivid to his mind that he addressedthe closed window as though it had been open, and as if through theopening he had beheld the menacing old man. "Yes, " he murmured, --"yes, be satisfied. "

His head dropped upon his chest, and in this position he paced hisstudy; then he threw himself, dressed as he was, upon a sofa, less tosleep than to rest his limbs, cramped with cold and study. By degreesevery one awoke. Villefort, from his study, heard the successive noiseswhich accompany the life of a house, --the opening and shutting of doors, the ringing of Madame de Villefort's bell, to summon the waiting-maid, mingled with the first shouts of the child, who rose full of theenjoyment of his age. Villefort also rang; his new valet brought him thepapers, and with them a cup of chocolate.

"What are you bringing me?" said he.

"A cup of chocolate. "

"I did not ask for it. Who has paid me this attention?"

"My mistress, sir. She said you would have to speak a great deal inthe murder case, and that you should take something to keep up yourstrength;" and the valet placed the cup on the table nearest to thesofa, which was, like all the rest, covered with papers. The valet thenleft the room. Villefort looked for an instant with a gloomy expression, then, suddenly, taking it up with a nervous motion, he swallowed itscontents at one draught. It might have been thought that he hoped thebeverage would be mortal, and that he sought for death to deliver himfrom a duty which he would rather die than fulfil. He then rose, andpaced his room with a smile it would have been terrible to witness. The chocolate was inoffensive, for M. De Villefort felt no effects. Thebreakfast-hour arrived, but M. De Villefort was not at table. The valetre-entered.

"Madame de Villefort wishes to remind you, sir, " he said, "that eleveno'clock has just struck, and that the trial commences at twelve. "

"Well, " said Villefort, "what then?"

"Madame de Villefort is dressed; she is quite ready, and wishes to knowif she is to accompany you, sir?"

"Where to?"

"To the Palais. "

"What to do?"

"My mistress wishes much to be present at the trial. "

"Ah, " said Villefort, with a startling accent; "does she wishthat?"--The man drew back and said, "If you wish to go alone, sir, Iwill go and tell my mistress. " Villefort remained silent for a moment, and dented his pale cheeks with his nails. "Tell your mistress, " he atlength answered, "that I wish to speak to her, and I beg she will waitfor me in her own room. "

"Yes, sir. "

"Then come to dress and shave me. "

"Directly, sir. " The valet re-appeared almost instantly, and, havingshaved his master, assisted him to dress entirely in black. When he hadfinished, he said, --

"My mistress said she should expect you, sir, as soon as you hadfinished dressing. "

"I am going to her. " And Villefort, with his papers under his arm andhat in hand, directed his steps toward the apartment of his wife. At thedoor he paused for a moment to wipe his damp, pale brow. He then enteredthe room. Madame de Villefort was sitting on an ottoman and impatientlyturning over the leaves of some newspapers and pamphlets which youngEdward, by way of amusing himself, was tearing to pieces before hismother could finish reading them. She was dressed to go out, her bonnetwas placed beside her on a chair, and her gloves were on her hands.

"Ah, here you are, monsieur, " she said in her naturally calm voice; "buthow pale you are! Have you been working all night? Why did you not comedown to breakfast? Well, will you take me, or shall I take Edward?"Madame de Villefort had multiplied her questions in order to gain oneanswer, but to all her inquiries M. De Villefort remained mute and coldas a statue. "Edward, " said Villefort, fixing an imperious glance onthe child, "go and play in the drawing-room, my dear; I wish to speakto your mamma. " Madame de Villefort shuddered at the sight of that coldcountenance, that resolute tone, and the awfully strange preliminaries. Edward raised his head, looked at his mother, and then, finding thatshe did not confirm the order, began cutting off the heads of his leadensoldiers.

"Edward, " cried M. De Villefort, so harshly that the child started upfrom the floor, "do you hear me?--Go!" The child, unaccustomed to suchtreatment, arose, pale and trembling; it would be difficult to saywhether his emotion were caused by fear or passion. His father went upto him, took him in his arms, and kissed his forehead. "Go, " he said:"go, my child. " Edward ran out. M. De Villefort went to the door, whichhe closed behind the child, and bolted. "Dear me!" said the young woman, endeavoring to read her husband's inmost thoughts, while a smile passedover her countenance which froze the impassibility of Villefort; "whatis the matter?"

"Madame, where do you keep the poison you generally use?" said themagistrate, without any introduction, placing himself between his wifeand the door.

Madame de Villefort must have experienced something of the sensation ofa bird which, looking up, sees the murderous trap closing over its head. A hoarse, broken tone, which was neither a cry nor a sigh, escaped fromher, while she became deadly pale. "Monsieur, " she said, "I--I do notunderstand you. " And, in her first paroxysm of terror, she had raisedherself from the sofa, in the next, stronger very likely than the other, she fell down again on the cushions. "I asked you, " continued Villefort, in a perfectly calm tone, "where you conceal the poison by the aidof which you have killed my father-in-law, M. De Saint-Meran, mymother-in-law, Madame de Saint-Meran, Barrois, and my daughterValentine. "

"Ah, sir, " exclaimed Madame de Villefort, clasping her hands, "what doyou say?"

"It is not for you to interrogate, but to answer. "

"Is it to the judge or to the husband?" stammered Madame de Villefort. "To the judge--to the judge, madame!" It was terrible to behold thefrightful pallor of that woman, the anguish of her look, the tremblingof her whole frame. "Ah, sir, " she muttered, "ah, sir, " and this wasall.

"You do not answer, madame!" exclaimed the terrible interrogator. Thenhe added, with a smile yet more terrible than his anger, "It is true, then; you do not deny it!" She moved forward. "And you cannot deny it!"added Villefort, extending his hand toward her, as though to seize herin the name of justice. "You have accomplished these different crimeswith impudent address, but which could only deceive those whoseaffections for you blinded them. Since the death of Madame deSaint-Meran, I have known that a poisoner lived in my house. M. D'Avrigny warned me of it. After the death of Barrois my suspicions weredirected towards an angel, --those suspicions which, even when thereis no crime, are always alive in my heart; but after the death ofValentine, there has been no doubt in my mind, madame, and not only inmine, but in those of others; thus your crime, known by two persons, suspected by many, will soon become public, and, as I told you just now, you no longer speak to the husband, but to the judge. "

The young woman hid her face in her hands. "Oh, sir, " she stammered, "Ibeseech you, do not believe appearances. "

"Are you, then, a coward?" cried Villefort, in a contemptuous voice. "But I have always observed that poisoners were cowards. Can you be acoward, --you who have had the courage to witness the death of two oldmen and a young girl murdered by you?"

"Sir! sir!"

"Can you be a coward?" continued Villefort, with increasing excitement, "you, who could count, one by one, the minutes of four death agonies?You, who have arranged your infernal plans, and removed the beverageswith a talent and precision almost miraculous? Have you, then, who havecalculated everything with such nicety, have you forgotten to calculateone thing--I mean where the revelation of your crimes will lead you to?Oh, it is impossible--you must have saved some surer, more subtle anddeadly poison than any other, that you might escape the punishmentthat you deserve. You have done this--I hope so, at least. " Madame deVillefort stretched out her hands, and fell on her knees.

"I understand, " he said, "you confess; but a confession made to thejudges, a confession made at the last moment, extorted when the crimecannot be denied, diminishes not the punishment inflicted on theguilty!"

"The punishment?" exclaimed Madame de Villefort, "the punishment, monsieur? Twice you have pronounced that word!"

"Certainly. Did you hope to escape it because you were four timesguilty? Did you think the punishment would be withheld because you arethe wife of him who pronounces it?--No, madame, no; the scaffold awaitsthe poisoner, whoever she may be, unless, as I just said, the poisonerhas taken the precaution of keeping for herself a few drops of herdeadliest potion. " Madame de Villefort uttered a wild cry, and a hideousand uncontrollable terror spread over her distorted features. "Oh, do not fear the scaffold, madame, " said the magistrate; "I will notdishonor you, since that would be dishonor to myself; no, if you haveheard me distinctly, you will understand that you are not to die on thescaffold. "

"No, I do not understand; what do you mean?" stammered the unhappywoman, completely overwhelmed. "I mean that the wife of the firstmagistrate in the capital shall not, by her infamy, soil an unblemishedname; that she shall not, with one blow, dishonor her husband and herchild. "

"No, no--oh, no!"

"Well, madame, it will be a laudable action on your part, and I willthank you for it!"

"You will thank me--for what?"

"For what you have just said. "

"What did I say? Oh, my brain whirls; I no longer understand anything. Oh, my God, my God!" And she rose, with her hair dishevelled, and herlips foaming.

"Have you answered the question I put to you on entering theroom?--where do you keep the poison you generally use, madame?" Madamede Villefort raised her arms to heaven, and convulsively struck onehand against the other. "No, no, " she vociferated, "no, you cannot wishthat!"

"What I do not wish, madame, is that you should perish on the scaffold. Do you understand?" asked Villefort.

"Oh, mercy, mercy, monsieur!"

"What I require is, that justice be done. I am on the earth to punish, madame, " he added, with a flaming glance; "any other woman, were it thequeen herself, I would send to the executioner; but to you I shall bemerciful. To you I will say, 'Have you not, madame, put aside some ofthe surest, deadliest, most speedy poison?'"

"Oh, pardon me, sir; let me live!"

"She is cowardly, " said Villefort.

"Reflect that I am your wife!"

"You are a poisoner. "

"In the name of heaven!"

"No!"

"In the name of the love you once bore me!"

"No, no!"

"In the name of our child! Ah, for the sake of our child, let me live!"

"No, no, no, I tell you; one day, if I allow you to live, you willperhaps kill him, as you have the others!"

"I?--I kill my boy?" cried the distracted mother, rushing towardVillefort; "I kill my son? Ha, ha, ha!" and a frightful, demoniac laughfinished the sentence, which was lost in a hoarse rattle. Madame deVillefort fell at her husband's feet. He approached her. "Think of it, madame, " he said; "if, on my return, justice his not been satisfied, Iwill denounce you with my own mouth, and arrest you with my own hands!"She listened, panting, overwhelmed, crushed; her eye alone lived, andglared horribly. "Do you understand me?" he said. "I am going down thereto pronounce the sentence of death against a murderer. If I find youalive on my return, you shall sleep to-night in the conciergerie. "Madame de Villefort sighed; her nerves gave way, and she sunk on thecarpet. The king's attorney seemed to experience a sensation of pity;he looked upon her less severely, and, bowing to her, said slowly, "Farewell, madame, farewell!" That farewell struck Madame de Villefortlike the executioner's knife. She fainted. The procureur went out, afterhaving double-locked the door.

Chapter 109. The Assizes.

The Benedetto affair, as it was called at the Palais, and by people ingeneral, had produced a tremendous sensation. Frequenting the Cafe deParis, the Boulevard de Gand, and the Bois de Boulogne, during hisbrief career of splendor, the false Cavalcanti had formed a host ofacquaintances. The papers had related his various adventures, both asthe man of fashion and the galley-slave; and as every one who had beenpersonally acquainted with Prince Andrea Cavalcanti experienced alively curiosity in his fate, they all determined to spare no trouble inendeavoring to witness the trial of M. Benedetto for the murder of hiscomrade in chains. In the eyes of many, Benedetto appeared, if nota victim to, at least an instance of, the fallibility of the law. M. Cavalcanti, his father, had been seen in Paris, and it was expected thathe would re-appear to claim the illustrious outcast. Many, also, whowere not aware of the circumstances attending his withdrawal from Paris, were struck with the worthy appearance, the gentlemanly bearing, andthe knowledge of the world displayed by the old patrician, who certainlyplayed the nobleman very well, so long as he said nothing, and made noarithmetical calculations. As for the accused himself, many rememberedhim as being so amiable, so handsome, and so liberal, that they choseto think him the victim of some conspiracy, since in this world largefortunes frequently excite the malevolence and jealousy of some unknownenemy. Every one, therefore, ran to the court; some to witness thesight, others to comment upon it. From seven o'clock in the morninga crowd was stationed at the iron gates, and an hour before the trialcommenced the hall was full of the privileged. Before the entrance ofthe magistrates, and indeed frequently afterwards, a court of justice, on days when some especial trial is to take place, resembles adrawing-room where many persons recognize each other and converse ifthey can do so without losing their seats; or, if they are separated bytoo great a number of lawyers, communicate by signs.

It was one of the magnificent autumn days which make amends for a shortsummer; the clouds which M. De Villefort had perceived at sunrisehad all disappeared as if by magic, and one of the softest and mostbrilliant days of September shone forth in all its splendor.

Beauchamp, one of the kings of the press, and therefore claiming theright of a throne everywhere, was eying everybody through his monocle. He perceived Chateau-Renaud and Debray, who had just gained the goodgraces of a sergeant-at-arms, and who had persuaded the latter to letthem stand before, instead of behind him, as they ought to have done. The worthy sergeant had recognized the minister's secretary and themillionnaire, and, by way of paying extra attention to his nobleneighbors, promised to keep their places while they paid a visit toBeauchamp.

"Well, " said Beauchamp, "we shall see our friend!"

"Yes, indeed!" replied Debray. "That worthy prince. Deuce take thoseItalian princes!"

"A man, too, who could boast of Dante for a genealogist, and couldreckon back to the 'Divine Comedy. '"

"A nobility of the rope!" said Chateau-Renaud phlegmatically.

"He will be condemned, will he not?" asked Debray of Beauchamp.

"My dear fellow, I think we should ask you that question; you know suchnews much better than we do. Did you see the president at the minister'slast night?"

"Yes. "

"What did he say?"

"Something which will surprise you. "

"Oh, make haste and tell me, then; it is a long time since that hashappened. "

"Well, he told me that Benedetto, who is considered a serpent ofsubtlety and a giant of cunning, is really but a very commonplace, sillyrascal, and altogether unworthy of the experiments that will be made onhis phrenological organs after his death. "

"Bah, " said Beauchamp, "he played the prince very well. "

"Yes, for you who detest those unhappy princes, Beauchamp, and arealways delighted to find fault with them; but not for me, who discovera gentleman by instinct, and who scent out an aristocratic family like avery bloodhound of heraldry. "

"Then you never believed in the principality?"

"Yes. --in the principality, but not in the prince. "

"Not so bad, " said Beauchamp; "still, I assure you, he passed very wellwith many people; I saw him at the ministers' houses. "

"Ah, yes, " said Chateau-Renaud. "The idea of thinking ministersunderstand anything about princes!"

"There is something in what you have just said, " said Beauchamp, laughing.

"But, " said Debray to Beauchamp, "if I spoke to the president, you musthave been with the procureur. "

"It was an impossibility; for the last week M. De Villefort hassecluded himself. It is natural enough; this strange chain of domesticafflictions, followed by the no less strange death of his daughter"--

"Strange? What do you mean, Beauchamp?"

"Oh, yes; do you pretend that all this has been unobserved at theminister's?" said Beauchamp, placing his eye-glass in his eye, where hetried to make it remain.

"My dear sir, " said Chateau-Renaud, "allow me to tell you that you donot understand that manoeuvre with the eye-glass half so well as Debray. Give him a lesson, Debray. "

"Stay, " said Beauchamp, "surely I am not deceived. "

"What is it?"

"It is she!"

"Whom do you mean?"

"They said she had left. "

"Mademoiselle Eugenie?" said Chateau-Renaud; "has she returned?"

"No, but her mother. "

"Madame Danglars? Nonsense! Impossible!" said Chateau-Renaud; "onlyten days after the flight of her daughter, and three days from thebankruptcy of her husband?"

Debray colored slightly, and followed with his eyes the direction ofBeauchamp's glance. "Come, " he said, "it is only a veiled lady, someforeign princess, perhaps the mother of Cavalcanti. But you were justspeaking on a very interesting topic, Beauchamp. "

"I?"

"Yes; you were telling us about the extraordinary death of Valentine. "

"Ah, yes, so I was. But how is it that Madame de Villefort is not here?"

"Poor, dear woman, " said Debray, "she is no doubt occupied in distillingbalm for the hospitals, or in making cosmetics for herself or friends. Do you know she spends two or three thousand crowns a year in thisamusement? But I wonder she is not here. I should have been pleased tosee her, for I like her very much. "

"And I hate her, " said Chateau-Renaud.

"Why?"

"I do not know. Why do we love? Why do we hate? I detest her, fromantipathy. "

"Or, rather, by instinct. "

"Perhaps so. But to return to what you were saying, Beauchamp. "

"Well, do you know why they die so multitudinously at M. DeVillefort's?"

"'Multitudinously' is good, " said Chateau-Renaud.

"My good fellow, you'll find the word in Saint-Simon. "

"But the thing itself is at M. De Villefort's; but let's get back to thesubject. "

"Talking of that, " said Debray, "Madame was making inquiries about thathouse, which for the last three months has been hung with black. "

"Who is Madame?" asked Chateau-Renaud.

"The minister's wife, pardieu!"

"Oh, your pardon! I never visit ministers; I leave that to the princes. "

"Really, You were only before sparkling, but now you are brilliant; takecompassion on us, or, like Jupiter, you will wither us up. "

"I will not speak again, " said Chateau-Renaud; "pray have compassionupon me, and do not take up every word I say. "

"Come, let us endeavor to get to the end of our story, Beauchamp; Itold you that yesterday Madame made inquiries of me upon the subject;enlighten me, and I will then communicate my information to her. "

"Well, gentlemen, the reason people die so multitudinously (I like theword) at M. De Villefort's is that there is an assassin in the house!"The two young men shuddered, for the same idea had more than onceoccurred to them. "And who is the assassin;" they asked together.

"Young Edward!" A burst of laughter from the auditors did not in theleast disconcert the speaker, who continued, --"Yes, gentlemen; Edward, the infant phenomenon, who is quite an adept in the art of killing. "

"You are jesting. "

"Not at all. I yesterday engaged a servant, who had just left M. De Villefort--I intend sending him away to-morrow, for he eats soenormously, to make up for the fast imposed upon him by his terror inthat house. Well, now listen. "

"We are listening. "

"It appears the dear child has obtained possession of a bottlecontaining some drug, which he every now and then uses against those whohave displeased him. First, M. And Madame de Saint-Meran incurred hisdispleasure, so he poured out three drops of his elixir--three dropswere sufficient; then followed Barrois, the old servant of M. Noirtier, who sometimes rebuffed this little wretch--he therefore received thesame quantity of the elixir; the same happened to Valentine, of whom hewas jealous; he gave her the same dose as the others, and all was overfor her as well as the rest. "

"Why, what nonsense are you telling us?" said Chateau-Renaud.

"Yes, it is an extraordinary story, " said Beauchamp; "is it not?"

"It is absurd, " said Debray.

"Ah, " said Beauchamp, "you doubt me? Well, you can ask my servant, orrather him who will no longer be my servant to-morrow, it was the talkof the house. "

"And this elixir, where is it? what is it?"

"The child conceals it. "

"But where did he find it?"

"In his mother's laboratory. "

"Does his mother then, keep poisons in her laboratory?"

"How can I tell? You are questioning me like a king's attorney. I onlyrepeat what I have been told, and like my informant I can do no more. The poor devil would eat nothing, from fear. "

"It is incredible!"

"No, my dear fellow, it is not at all incredible. You saw the child passthrough the Rue Richelieu last year, who amused himself with killing hisbrothers and sisters by sticking pins in their ears while they slept. The generation who follow us are very precocious. "

"Come, Beauchamp, " said Chateau-Renaud, "I will bet anything you do notbelieve a word of all you have been telling us. "

"I do not see the Count of Monte Cristo here. "

"He is worn out, " said Debray; "besides, he could not well appear inpublic, since he has been the dupe of the Cavalcanti, who, it appears, presented themselves to him with false letters of credit, and cheatedhim out of 100, 000. Francs upon the hypothesis of this principality. "

"By the way, M. De Chateau-Renaud, " asked Beauchamp, "how is Morrel?"

"Ma foi, I have called three times without once seeing him. Still, hissister did not seem uneasy, and told me that though she had not seen himfor two or three days, she was sure he was well. "

"Ah, now I think of it, the Count of Monte Cristo cannot appear in thehall, " said Beauchamp.

"Why not?"

"Because he is an actor in the drama. "

"Has he assassinated any one, then?"

"No, on the contrary, they wished to assassinate him. You know thatit was in leaving his house that M. De Caderousse was murdered by hisfriend Benedetto. You know that the famous waistcoat was found inhis house, containing the letter which stopped the signature ofthe marriage-contract. Do you see the waistcoat? There it is, allblood-stained, on the desk, as a testimony of the crime. "

"Ah, very good. "

"Hush, gentlemen, here is the court; let us go back to our places. " Anoise was heard in the hall; the sergeant called his two patrons withan energetic "hem!" and the door-keeper appearing, called out with thatshrill voice peculiar to his order, ever since the days of Beaumarchais, "The court, gentlemen!"

Chapter 110. The Indictment.

The judges took their places in the midst of the most profound silence;the jury took their seats; M. De Villefort, the object of unusualattention, and we had almost said of general admiration, sat in thearm-chair and cast a tranquil glance around him. Every one lookedwith astonishment on that grave and severe face, whose calm expressionpersonal griefs had been unable to disturb, and the aspect of a man whowas a stranger to all human emotions excited something very like terror.

"Gendarmes, " said the president, "lead in the accused. "

At these words the public attention became more intense, and all eyeswere turned towards the door through which Benedetto was to enter. The door soon opened and the accused appeared. The same impression wasexperienced by all present, and no one was deceived by the expressionof his countenance. His features bore no sign of that deep emotionwhich stops the beating of the heart and blanches the cheek. His hands, gracefully placed, one upon his hat, the other in the opening of hiswhite waistcoat, were not at all tremulous; his eye was calm and evenbrilliant. Scarcely had he entered the hall when he glanced at thewhole body of magistrates and assistants; his eye rested longer on thepresident, and still more so on the king's attorney. By the side ofAndrea was stationed the lawyer who was to conduct his defence, andwho had been appointed by the court, for Andrea disdained to payany attention to those details, to which he appeared to attach noimportance. The lawyer was a young man with light hair whose faceexpressed a hundred times more emotion than that which characterized theprisoner.

The president called for the indictment, revised as we know, by theclever and implacable pen of Villefort. During the reading of this, which was long, the public attention was continually drawn towardsAndrea, who bore the inspection with Spartan unconcern. Villefort hadnever been so concise and eloquent. The crime was depicted in the mostvivid colors; the former life of the prisoner, his transformation, areview of his life from the earliest period, were set forth with all thetalent that a knowledge of human life could furnish to a mind like thatof the procureur. Benedetto was thus forever condemned in public opinionbefore the sentence of the law could be pronounced. Andrea paid noattention to the successive charges which were brought against him. M. De Villefort, who examined him attentively, and who no doubt practicedupon him all the psychological studies he was accustomed to use, in vainendeavored to make him lower his eyes, notwithstanding the depth andprofundity of his gaze. At length the reading of the indictment wasended.

"Accused, " said the president, "your name and surname?" Andrea arose. "Excuse me, Mr. President, " he said, in a clear voice, "but I see youare going to adopt a course of questions through which I cannot followyou. I have an idea, which I will explain by and by, of making anexception to the usual form of accusation. Allow me, then, if youplease, to answer in different order, or I will not do so at all. "The astonished president looked at the jury, who in turn looked atVillefort. The whole assembly manifested great surprise, but Andreaappeared quite unmoved. "Your age?" said the president; "will you answerthat question?"

"I will answer that question, as well as the rest, Mr. President, but inits turn. "

"Your age?" repeated the president.

"I am twenty-one years old, or rather I shall be in a few days, as I wasborn the night of the 27th of September, 1817. " M. De Villefort, whowas busy taking down some notes, raised his head at the mention of thisdate. "Where were you born?" continued the president.

"At Auteuil, near Paris. " M. De Villefort a second time raised his head, looked at Benedetto as if he had been gazing at the head of Medusa, andbecame livid. As for Benedetto, he gracefully wiped his lips with a finecambric pocket-handkerchief. "Your profession?"

"First I was a forger, " answered Andrea, as calmly as possible; "then Ibecame a thief, and lately have become an assassin. " A murmur, or ratherstorm, of indignation burst from all parts of the assembly. The judgesthemselves appeared to be stupefied, and the jury manifested tokens ofdisgust for cynicism so unexpected in a man of fashion. M. De Villefortpressed his hand upon his brow, which, at first pale, had become red andburning; then he suddenly arose and looked around as though he had losthis senses--he wanted air.

"Are you looking for anything, Mr. Procureur?" asked Benedetto, with hismost ingratiating smile. M. De Villefort answered nothing, but sat, orrather threw himself down again upon his chair. "And now, prisoner, will you consent to tell your name?" said the president. "The brutalaffectation with which you have enumerated and classified your crimescalls for a severe reprimand on the part of the court, both in the nameof morality, and for the respect due to humanity. You appear to considerthis a point of honor, and it may be for this reason, that you havedelayed acknowledging your name. You wished it to be preceded by allthese titles. "

"It is quite wonderful, Mr. President, how entirely you have read mythoughts, " said Benedetto, in his softest voice and most polite manner. "This is, indeed, the reason why I begged you to alter the order of thequestions. " The public astonishment had reached its height. There was nolonger any deceit or bravado in the manner of the accused. The audiencefelt that a startling revelation was to follow this ominous prelude.

"Well, " said the president; "your name?"

"I cannot tell you my name, since I do not know it; but I know myfather's, and can tell it to you. "

A painful giddiness overwhelmed Villefort; great drops of acrid sweatfell from his face upon the papers which he held in his convulsed hand.

"Repeat your father's name, " said the president. Not a whisper, not abreath, was heard in that vast assembly; every one waited anxiously.

"My father is king's attorney, " replied Andrea calmly.

"King's attorney?" said the president, stupefied, and without noticingthe agitation which spread over the face of M. De Villefort; "king'sattorney?"

"Yes; and if you wish to know his name, I will tell it, --he is namedVillefort. " The explosion, which had been so long restrained from afeeling of respect to the court of justice, now burst forth like thunderfrom the breasts of all present; the court itself did not seek torestrain the feelings of the audience. The exclamations, the insultsaddressed to Benedetto, who remained perfectly unconcerned, theenergetic gestures, the movement of the gendarmes, the sneers of thescum of the crowd always sure to rise to the surface in case of anydisturbance--all this lasted five minutes, before the door-keepers andmagistrates were able to restore silence. In the midst of this tumultthe voice of the president was heard to exclaim, --"Are you playing withjustice, accused, and do you dare set your fellow-citizens an example ofdisorder which even in these times has never been equalled?"

Several persons hurried up to M. De Villefort, who sat half bowed overin his chair, offering him consolation, encouragement, and protestationsof zeal and sympathy. Order was re-established in the hall, except thata few people still moved about and whispered to one another. A lady, it was said, had just fainted; they had supplied her with asmelling-bottle, and she had recovered. During the scene of tumult, Andrea had turned his smiling face towards the assembly; then, leaningwith one hand on the oaken rail of the dock, in the most gracefulattitude possible, he said: "Gentlemen, I assure you I had no idea ofinsulting the court, or of making a useless disturbance in the presenceof this honorable assembly. They ask my age; I tell it. They ask where Iwas born; I answer. They ask my name, I cannot give it, since my parentsabandoned me. But though I cannot give my own name, not possessing one, I can tell them my father's. Now I repeat, my father is named M. DeVillefort, and I am ready to prove it. "

There was an energy, a conviction, and a sincerity in the manner of theyoung man, which silenced the tumult. All eyes were turned for a momenttowards the procureur, who sat as motionless as though a thunderbolt hadchanged him into a corpse. "Gentlemen, " said Andrea, commanding silenceby his voice and manner; "I owe you the proofs and explanations of whatI have said. "

"But, " said the irritated president, "you called yourself Benedetto, declared yourself an orphan, and claimed Corsica as your country. "

"I said anything I pleased, in order that the solemn declaration I havejust made should not be withheld, which otherwise would certainly havebeen the case. I now repeat that I was born at Auteuil on the night ofthe 27th of September, 1817, and that I am the son of the procureur, M. De Villefort. Do you wish for any further details? I will give them. Iwas born in No. 28, Rue de la Fontaine, in a room hung with red damask;my father took me in his arms, telling my mother I was dead, wrappedme in a napkin marked with an H and an N, and carried me into a garden, where he buried me alive. "

A shudder ran through the assembly when they saw that the confidence ofthe prisoner increased in proportion to the terror of M. De Villefort. "But how have you become acquainted with all these details?" asked thepresident.

"I will tell you, Mr. President. A man who had sworn vengeance againstmy father, and had long watched his opportunity to kill him, hadintroduced himself that night into the garden in which my father buriedme. He was concealed in a thicket; he saw my father bury something inthe ground, and stabbed him; then thinking the deposit might containsome treasure he turned up the ground, and found me still living. Theman carried me to the foundling asylum, where I was registered under thenumber 37. Three months afterwards, a woman travelled from Rogliano toParis to fetch me, and having claimed me as her son, carried me away. Thus, you see, though born in Paris, I was brought up in Corsica. "



There was a moment's silence, during which one could have fanciedthe hall empty, so profound was the stillness. "Proceed, " said thepresident.

"Certainly, I might have lived happily amongst those good people, whoadored me, but my perverse disposition prevailed over the virtues whichmy adopted mother endeavored to instil into my heart. I increased inwickedness till I committed crime. One day when I cursed Providence formaking me so wicked, and ordaining me to such a fate, my adopted fathersaid to me, 'Do not blaspheme, unhappy child, the crime is that of yourfather, not yours, --of your father, who consigned you to hell if youdied, and to misery if a miracle preserved you alive. ' After that Iceased to blaspheme, but I cursed my father. That is why I have utteredthe words for which you blame me; that is why I have filled this wholeassembly with horror. If I have committed an additional crime, punishme, but if you will allow that ever since the day of my birth my fatehas been sad, bitter, and lamentable, then pity me. "

"But your mother?" asked the president.

"My mother thought me dead; she is not guilty. I did not even wish toknow her name, nor do I know it. " Just then a piercing cry, ending in asob, burst from the centre of the crowd, who encircled the lady who hadbefore fainted, and who now fell into a violent fit of hysterics. Shewas carried out of the hall, the thick veil which concealed her facedropped off, and Madame Danglars was recognized. Notwithstanding hisshattered nerves, the ringing sensation in his ears, and the madnesswhich turned his brain, Villefort rose as he perceived her. "The proofs, the proofs!" said the president; "remember this tissue of horrors mustbe supported by the clearest proofs. "

"The proofs?" said Benedetto, laughing; "do you want proofs?"

"Yes. "

"Well, then, look at M. De Villefort, and then ask me for proofs. "

Every one turned towards the procureur, who, unable to bear theuniversal gaze now riveted on him alone, advanced staggering into themidst of the tribunal, with his hair dishevelled and his face indentedwith the mark of his nails. The whole assembly uttered a long murmur ofastonishment. "Father, " said Benedetto, "I am asked for proofs, do youwish me to give them?"

"No, no, it is useless, " stammered M. De Villefort in a hoarse voice;"no, it is useless!"

"How useless?" cried the president, "what do you mean?"

"I mean that I feel it impossible to struggle against this deadly weightwhich crushes me. Gentlemen, I know I am in the hands of an avengingGod! We need no proofs; everything relating to this young man is true. "A dull, gloomy silence, like that which precedes some awful phenomenonof nature, pervaded the assembly, who shuddered in dismay. "What, M. De Villefort, " cried the president, "do you yield to an hallucination?What, are you no longer in possession of your senses? This strange, unexpected, terrible accusation has disordered your reason. Come, recover. "

The procureur dropped his head; his teeth chattered like those of a manunder a violent attack of fever, and yet he was deadly pale.

"I am in possession of all my senses, sir, " he said; "my body alonesuffers, as you may suppose. I acknowledge myself guilty of all theyoung man has brought against me, and from this hour hold myself underthe authority of the procureur who will succeed me. "

And as he spoke these words with a hoarse, choking voice, he staggeredtowards the door, which was mechanically opened by a door-keeper. The whole assembly were dumb with astonishment at the revelation andconfession which had produced a catastrophe so different from that whichhad been expected during the last fortnight by the Parisian world.

"Well, " said Beauchamp, "let them now say that drama is unnatural!"

"Ma foi!" said Chateau-Renaud, "I would rather end my career like M. De Morcerf; a pistol-shot seems quite delightful compared with thiscatastrophe. "

"And moreover, it kills, " said Beauchamp.

"And to think that I had an idea of marrying his daughter, " said Debray. "She did well to die, poor girl!"

"The sitting is adjourned, gentlemen, " said the president; "freshinquiries will be made, and the case will be tried next session byanother magistrate. " As for Andrea, who was calm and more interestingthan ever, he left the hall, escorted by gendarmes, who involuntarilypaid him some attention. "Well, what do you think of this, my finefellow?" asked Debray of the sergeant-at-arms, slipping a louis into hishand. "There will be extenuating circumstances, " he replied.

Chapter 111. Expiation.

Notwithstanding the density of the crowd, M. De Villefort saw it openbefore him. There is something so awe-inspiring in great afflictionsthat even in the worst times the first emotion of a crowd has generallybeen to sympathize with the sufferer in a great catastrophe. Many peoplehave been assassinated in a tumult, but even criminals have rarelybeen insulted during trial. Thus Villefort passed through the massof spectators and officers of the Palais, and withdrew. Though he hadacknowledged his guilt, he was protected by his grief. There aresome situations which men understand by instinct, but which reason ispowerless to explain; in such cases the greatest poet is he who givesutterance to the most natural and vehement outburst of sorrow. Thosewho hear the bitter cry are as much impressed as if they listened toan entire poem, and when the sufferer is sincere they are right inregarding his outburst as sublime.

It would be difficult to describe the state of stupor in which Villefortleft the Palais. Every pulse beat with feverish excitement, every nervewas strained, every vein swollen, and every part of his body seemedto suffer distinctly from the rest, thus multiplying his agony athousand-fold. He made his way along the corridors through force ofhabit; he threw aside his magisterial robe, not out of deference toetiquette, but because it was an unbearable burden, a veritable garbof Nessus, insatiate in torture. Having staggered as far as the RueDauphine, he perceived his carriage, awoke his sleeping coachman byopening the door himself, threw himself on the cushions, and pointedtowards the Faubourg Saint-Honore; the carriage drove on. The weight ofhis fallen fortunes seemed suddenly to crush him; he could notforesee the consequences; he could not contemplate the future with theindifference of the hardened criminal who merely faces a contingencyalready familiar. God was still in his heart. "God, " he murmured, notknowing what he said, --"God--God!" Behind the event that had overwhelmedhim he saw the hand of God. The carriage rolled rapidly onward. Villefort, while turning restlessly on the cushions, felt somethingpress against him. He put out his hand to remove the object; it wasa fan which Madame de Villefort had left in the carriage; this fanawakened a recollection which darted through his mind like lightning. Hethought of his wife.

"Oh!" he exclaimed, as though a redhot iron were piercing his heart. During the last hour his own crime had alone been presented to his mind;now another object, not less terrible, suddenly presented itself. Hiswife! He had just acted the inexorable judge with her, he had condemnedher to death, and she, crushed by remorse, struck with terror, covered with the shame inspired by the eloquence of his irreproachablevirtue, --she, a poor, weak woman, without help or the power of defendingherself against his absolute and supreme will, --she might at that verymoment, perhaps, be preparing to die! An hour had elapsed since hercondemnation; at that moment, doubtless, she was recalling all hercrimes to her memory; she was asking pardon for her sins; perhapsshe was even writing a letter imploring forgiveness from her virtuoushusband--a forgiveness she was purchasing with her death! Villefortagain groaned with anguish and despair. "Ah, " he exclaimed, "that womanbecame criminal only from associating with me! I carried the infectionof crime with me, and she has caught it as she would the typhus fever, the cholera, the plague! And yet I have punished her--I have dared totell her--I have--'Repent and die!' But no, she must not die; she shalllive, and with me. We will flee from Paris and go as far as the earthreaches. I told her of the scaffold; oh, heavens, I forgot that itawaits me also! How could I pronounce that word? Yes, we will fly;I will confess all to her, --I will tell her daily that I also havecommitted a crime!--Oh, what an alliance--the tiger and the serpent;worthy wife of such as I am! She must live that my infamy may diminishhers. " And Villefort dashed open the window in front of the carriage.

"Faster, faster!" he cried, in a tone which electrified the coachman. The horses, impelled by fear, flew towards the house.

"Yes, yes, " repeated Villefort, as he approached his home--"yes, thatwoman must live; she must repent, and educate my son, the sole survivor, with the exception of the indestructible old man, of the wreck ofmy house. She loves him; it was for his sake she has committed thesecrimes. We ought never to despair of softening the heart of a mother wholoves her child. She will repent, and no one will know that she has beenguilty. The events which have taken place in my house, though they nowoccupy the public mind, will be forgotten in time, or if, indeed, a fewenemies should persist in remembering them, why then I will add them tomy list of crimes. What will it signify if one, two, or three more areadded? My wife and child shall escape from this gulf, carrying treasureswith them; she will live and may yet be happy, since her child, in whomall her love is centred, will be with her. I shall have performed a goodaction, and my heart will be lighter. " And the procureur breathed morefreely than he had done for some time.

The carriage stopped at the door of the house. Villefort leaped outof the carriage, and saw that his servants were surprised at his earlyreturn; he could read no other expression on their features. Neither ofthem spoke to him; they merely stood aside to let him pass by, as usual, nothing more. As he passed by M. Noirtier's room, he perceived twofigures through the half-open door; but he experienced no curiosity toknow who was visiting his father: anxiety carried him on further.

"Come, " he said, as he ascended the stairs leading to his wife's room, "nothing is changed here. " He then closed the door of the landing. "No one must disturb us, " he said; "I must speak freely to her, accusemyself, and say"--he approached the door, touched the crystal handle, which yielded to his hand. "Not locked, " he cried; "that is well. " Andhe entered the little room in which Edward slept; for though the childwent to school during the day, his mother could not allow him to beseparated from her at night. With a single glance Villefort's eyeran through the room. "Not here, " he said; "doubtless she is in herbedroom. " He rushed towards the door, found it bolted, and stopped, shuddering. "Heloise!" he cried. He fancied he heard the sound of apiece of furniture being removed. "Heloise!" he repeated.

"Who is there?" answered the voice of her he sought. He thought thatvoice more feeble than usual.

"Open the door!" cried Villefort. "Open; it is I. " But notwithstandingthis request, notwithstanding the tone of anguish in which it wasuttered, the door remained closed. Villefort burst it open with aviolent blow. At the entrance of the room which led to her boudoir, Madame de Villefort was standing erect, pale, her features contracted, and her eyes glaring horribly. "Heloise, Heloise!" he said, "what is thematter? Speak!" The young woman extended her stiff white hands towardshim. "It is done, monsieur, " she said with a rattling noise which seemedto tear her throat. "What more do you want?" and she fell full length onthe floor. Villefort ran to her and seized her hand, which convulsivelyclasped a crystal bottle with a golden stopper. Madame de Villefort wasdead. Villefort, maddened with horror, stepped back to the threshholdof the door, fixing his eyes on the corpse: "My son!" he exclaimedsuddenly, "where is my son?--Edward, Edward!" and he rushed out of theroom, still crying, "Edward, Edward!" The name was pronounced in such atone of anguish that the servants ran up.

"Where is my son?" asked Villefort; "let him be removed from the house, that he may not see"--

"Master Edward is not down-stairs, sir, " replied the valet.

"Then he must be playing in the garden; go and see. "

"No, sir; Madame de Villefort sent for him half an hour ago; he wentinto her room, and has not been down-stairs since. " A cold perspirationburst out on Villefort's brow; his legs trembled, and his thoughts flewabout madly in his brain like the wheels of a disordered watch. "InMadame de Villefort's room?" he murmured and slowly returned, with onehand wiping his forehead, and with the other supporting himselfagainst the wall. To enter the room he must again see the body of hisunfortunate wife. To call Edward he must reawaken the echo of that roomwhich now appeared like a sepulchre; to speak seemed like violating thesilence of the tomb. His tongue was paralyzed in his mouth.

"Edward!" he stammered--"Edward!" The child did not answer. Where, then, could he be, if he had entered his mother's room and not since returned?He stepped forward. The corpse of Madame de Villefort was stretchedacross the doorway leading to the room in which Edward must be; thoseglaring eyes seemed to watch over the threshold, and the lips bore thestamp of a terrible and mysterious irony. Through the open door wasvisible a portion of the boudoir, containing an upright piano and a bluesatin couch. Villefort stepped forward two or three paces, and beheldhis child lying--no doubt asleep--on the sofa. The unhappy man utteredan exclamation of joy; a ray of light seemed to penetrate the abyss ofdespair and darkness. He had only to step over the corpse, enter theboudoir, take the child in his arms, and flee far, far away.

Villefort was no longer the civilized man; he was a tiger hurt untodeath, gnashing his teeth in his wound. He no longer feared realities, but phantoms. He leaped over the corpse as if it had been a burningbrazier. He took the child in his arms, embraced him, shook him, calledhim, but the child made no response. He pressed his burning lips to thecheeks, but they were icy cold and pale; he felt the stiffened limbs; hepressed his hand upon the heart, but it no longer beat, --the childwas dead. A folded paper fell from Edward's breast. Villefort, thunderstruck, fell upon his knees; the child dropped from his arms, androlled on the floor by the side of its mother. He picked up the paper, and, recognizing his wife's writing, ran his eyes rapidly over itscontents; it ran as follows:--

"You know that I was a good mother, since it was for my son's sake Ibecame criminal. A good mother cannot depart without her son. "

Villefort could not believe his eyes, --he could not believe his reason;he dragged himself towards the child's body, and examined it as alioness contemplates its dead cub. Then a piercing cry escaped from hisbreast, and he cried, "Still the hand of God. " The presence of thetwo victims alarmed him; he could not bear solitude shared only by twocorpses. Until then he had been sustained by rage, by his strength ofmind, by despair, by the supreme agony which led the Titans to scale theheavens, and Ajax to defy the gods. He now arose, his head bowed beneaththe weight of grief, and, shaking his damp, dishevelled hair, he who hadnever felt compassion for any one determined to seek his father, that hemight have some one to whom he could relate his misfortunes, --some oneby whose side he might weep. He descended the little staircase withwhich we are acquainted, and entered Noirtier's room. The old manappeared to be listening attentively and as affectionately as hisinfirmities would allow to the Abbe Busoni, who looked cold and calm, asusual. Villefort, perceiving the abbe, passed his hand across hisbrow. He recollected the call he had made upon him after the dinner atAuteuil, and then the visit the abbe had himself paid to his house onthe day of Valentine's death. "You here, sir!" he exclaimed; "do you, then, never appear but to act as an escort to death?"

Busoni turned around, and, perceiving the excitement depicted on themagistrate's face, the savage lustre of his eyes, he understood thatthe revelation had been made at the assizes; but beyond this he wasignorant. "I came to pray over the body of your daughter. "

"And now why are you here?"

"I come to tell you that you have sufficiently repaid your debt, andthat from this moment I will pray to God to forgive you, as I do. "

"Good heavens!" exclaimed Villefort, stepping back fearfully, "surelythat is not the voice of the Abbe Busoni!"

"No!" The abbe threw off his wig, shook his head, and his hair, nolonger confined, fell in black masses around his manly face.

"It is the face of the Count of Monte Cristo!" exclaimed the procureur, with a haggard expression.

"You are not exactly right, M. Procureur; you must go farther back. "

"That voice, that voice!--where did I first hear it?"

"You heard it for the first time at Marseilles, twenty-three years ago, the day of your marriage with Mademoiselle de Saint-Meran. Refer to yourpapers. "

"You are not Busoni?--you are not Monte Cristo? Oh, heavens--you are, then, some secret, implacable, and mortal enemy! I must have wronged youin some way at Marseilles. Oh, woe to me!"

"Yes; you are now on the right path, " said the count, crossing his armsover his broad chest; "search--search!"

"But what have I done to you?" exclaimed Villefort, whose mind wasbalancing between reason and insanity, in that cloud which is neither adream nor reality; "what have I done to you? Tell me, then! Speak!"

"You condemned me to a horrible, tedious death; you killed my father;you deprived me of liberty, of love, and happiness. "

"Who are you, then? Who are you?"

"I am the spectre of a wretch you buried in the dungeons of the Chateaud'If. God gave that spectre the form of the Count of Monte Cristo whenhe at length issued from his tomb, enriched him with gold and diamonds, and led him to you!"

"Ah, I recognize you--I recognize you!" exclaimed the king's attorney;"you are"--

"I am Edmond Dantes!"

"You are Edmond Dantes, " cried Villefort, seizing the count by thewrist; "then come here!" And up the stairs he dragged Monte Cristo; who, ignorant of what had happened, followed him in astonishment, foreseeingsome new catastrophe. "There, Edmond Dantes!" he said, pointing to thebodies of his wife and child, "see, are you well avenged?" Monte Cristobecame pale at this horrible sight; he felt that he had passed beyondthe bounds of vengeance, and that he could no longer say, "God is forand with me. " With an expression of indescribable anguish he threwhimself upon the body of the child, reopened its eyes, felt itspulse, and then rushed with him into Valentine's room, of which hedouble-locked the door. "My child, " cried Villefort, "he carries awaythe body of my child! Oh, curses, woe, death to you!" and he tried tofollow Monte Cristo; but as though in a dream he was transfixed to thespot, --his eyes glared as though they were starting through the sockets;he griped the flesh on his chest until his nails were stained withblood; the veins of his temples swelled and boiled as though they wouldburst their narrow boundary, and deluge his brain with living fire. This lasted several minutes, until the frightful overturn of reason wasaccomplished; then uttering a loud cry followed by a burst of laughter, he rushed down the stairs.

A quarter of an hour afterwards the door of Valentine's room opened, andMonte Cristo reappeared. Pale, with a dull eye and heavy heart, all thenoble features of that face, usually so calm and serene, were overcastby grief. In his arms he held the child, whom no skill had been able torecall to life. Bending on one knee, he placed it reverently by the sideof its mother, with its head upon her breast. Then, rising, he wentout, and meeting a servant on the stairs, he asked, "Where is M. DeVillefort?"

The servant, instead of answering, pointed to the garden. Monte Cristoran down the steps, and advancing towards the spot designated beheldVillefort, encircled by his servants, with a spade in his hand, anddigging the earth with fury. "It is not here!" he cried. "It is nothere!" And then he moved farther on, and began again to dig.

Monte Cristo approached him, and said in a low voice, with an expressionalmost humble, "Sir, you have indeed lost a son; but"--

Villefort interrupted him; he had neither listened nor heard. "Oh, Iwill find it, " he cried; "you may pretend he is not here, but I willfind him, though I dig forever!" Monte Cristo drew back in horror. "Oh, "he said, "he is mad!" And as though he feared that the walls of theaccursed house would crumble around him, he rushed into the street, forthe first time doubting whether he had the right to do as he had done. "Oh, enough of this, --enough of this, " he cried; "let me save the last. "On entering his house, he met Morrel, who wandered about like a ghostawaiting the heavenly mandate for return to the tomb. "Prepare yourself, Maximilian, " he said with a smile; "we leave Paris to-morrow. "

"Have you nothing more to do there?" asked Morrel.

"No, " replied Monte Cristo; "God grant I may not have done too muchalready. "

The next day they indeed left, accompanied only by Baptistin. Haidee hadtaken away Ali, and Bertuccio remained with Noirtier.

Chapter 112. The Departure.

The recent event formed the theme of conversation throughout all Paris. Emmanuel and his wife conversed with natural astonishment in theirlittle apartment in the Rue Meslay upon the three successive, sudden, and most unexpected catastrophes of Morcerf, Danglars, and Villefort. Maximilian, who was paying them a visit, listened to their conversation, or rather was present at it, plunged in his accustomed state of apathy. "Indeed, " said Julie, "might we not almost fancy, Emmanuel, thatthose people, so rich, so happy but yesterday, had forgotten in theirprosperity that an evil genius--like the wicked fairies in Perrault'sstories who present themselves unbidden at a wedding or baptism--hoveredover them, and appeared all at once to revenge himself for their fatalneglect?"

"What a dire misfortune!" said Emmanuel, thinking of Morcerf andDanglars.

"What dreadful sufferings!" said Julie, remembering Valentine, but whom, with a delicacy natural to women, she did not name before her brother.

"If the Supreme Being has directed the fatal blow, " said Emmanuel, "itmust be that he in his great goodness has perceived nothing in the pastlives of these people to merit mitigation of their awful punishment. "

"Do you not form a very rash judgment, Emmanuel?" said Julie. "When myfather, with a pistol in his hand, was once on the point of committingsuicide, had any one then said, 'This man deserves his misery, ' wouldnot that person have been deceived?"

"Yes; but your father was not allowed to fall. A being was commissionedto arrest the fatal hand of death about to descend on him. "

Emmanuel had scarcely uttered these words when the sound of the bellwas heard, the well-known signal given by the porter that a visitor hadarrived. Nearly at the same instant the door was opened and the Count ofMonte Cristo appeared on the threshold. The young people uttered acry of joy, while Maximilian raised his head, but let it fall againimmediately. "Maximilian, " said the count, without appearing to noticethe different impressions which his presence produced on the littlecircle, "I come to seek you. "

"To seek me?" repeated Morrel, as if awakening from a dream.

"Yes, " said Monte Cristo; "has it not been agreed that I should take youwith me, and did I not tell you yesterday to prepare for departure?"

"I am ready, " said Maximilian; "I came expressly to wish them farewell. "

"Whither are you going, count?" asked Julie.

"In the first instance to Marseilles, madame. "

"To Marseilles!" exclaimed the young couple.

"Yes, and I take your brother with me. "

"Oh, count. " said Julie, "will you restore him to us cured of hismelancholy?"--Morrel turned away to conceal the confusion of hiscountenance.

"You perceive, then, that he is not happy?" said the count. "Yes, "replied the young woman; "and fear much that he finds our home but adull one. "

"I will undertake to divert him, " replied the count.

"I am ready to accompany you, sir, " said Maximilian. "Adieu, my kindfriends! Emmanuel--Julie--farewell!"

"How farewell?" exclaimed Julie; "do you leave us thus, so suddenly, without any preparations for your journey, without even a passport?"

"Needless delays but increase the grief of parting, " said MonteCristo, "and Maximilian has doubtless provided himself with everythingrequisite; at least, I advised him to do so. "

"I have a passport, and my clothes are ready packed, " said Morrel in histranquil but mournful manner.

"Good, " said Monte Cristo, smiling; "in these prompt arrangements werecognize the order of a well-disciplined soldier. "

"And you leave us, " said Julie, "at a moment's warning? you do not giveus a day--no, not even an hour before your departure?"

"My carriage is at the door, madame, and I must be in Rome in fivedays. "

"But does Maximilian go to Rome?" exclaimed Emmanuel.

"I am going wherever it may please the count to take me, " said Morrel, with a smile full of grief; "I am under his orders for the next month. "

"Oh, heavens, how strangely he expresses himself, count!" said Julie.

"Maximilian goes with me, " said the count, in his kindest and mostpersuasive manner; "therefore do not make yourself uneasy on yourbrother's account. "

"Once more farewell, my dear sister; Emmanuel, adieu!" Morrel repeated.

"His carelessness and indifference touch me to the heart, " said Julie. "Oh, Maximilian, Maximilian, you are certainly concealing something fromus. "

"Pshaw!" said Monte Cristo, "you will see him return to you gay, smiling, and joyful. "

Maximilian cast a look of disdain, almost of anger, on the count.

"We must leave you, " said Monte Cristo.

"Before you quit us, count, " said Julie, "will you permit us to expressto you all that the other day"--

"Madame, " interrupted the count, taking her two hands in his, "all thatyou could say in words would never express what I read in your eyes; thethoughts of your heart are fully understood by mine. Like benefactorsin romances, I should have left you without seeing you again, but thatwould have been a virtue beyond my strength, because I am a weakand vain man, fond of the tender, kind, and thankful glances of myfellow-creatures. On the eve of departure I carry my egotism so far asto say, 'Do not forget me, my kind friends, for probably you will neversee me again. '"

"Never see you again?" exclaimed Emmanuel, while two large tears rolleddown Julie's cheeks, "never behold you again? It is not a man, then, butsome angel that leaves us, and this angel is on the point of returningto heaven after having appeared on earth to do good. "

"Say not so, " quickly returned Monte Cristo--"say not so, my friends;angels never err, celestial beings remain where they wish to be. Fate isnot more powerful than they; it is they who, on the contrary, overcomefate. No, Emmanuel, I am but a man, and your admiration is as unmeritedas your words are sacrilegious. " And pressing his lips on the hand ofJulie, who rushed into his arms, he extended his other hand to Emmanuel;then tearing himself from this abode of peace and happiness, he made asign to Maximilian, who followed him passively, with the indifferencewhich had been perceptible in him ever since the death of Valentine hadso stunned him. "Restore my brother to peace and happiness, " whisperedJulie to Monte Cristo. And the count pressed her hand in reply, as hehad done eleven years before on the staircase leading to Morrel's study.

"You still confide, then, in Sinbad the Sailor?" asked he, smiling.

"Oh, yes, " was the ready answer.

"Well, then, sleep in peace, and put your trust in heaven. " As we havebefore said, the postchaise was waiting; four powerful horses werealready pawing the ground with impatience, while Ali, apparently justarrived from a long walk, was standing at the foot of the steps, hisface bathed in perspiration. "Well, " asked the count in Arabic, "haveyou been to see the old man?" Ali made a sign in the affirmative.

"And have you placed the letter before him, as I ordered you to do?"

The slave respectfully signalized that he had. "And what did he say, orrather do?" Ali placed himself in the light, so that his master mightsee him distinctly, and then imitating in his intelligent manner thecountenance of the old man, he closed his eyes, as Noirtier was in thecustom of doing when saying "Yes. "

"Good; he accepts, " said Monte Cristo. "Now let us go. "

These words had scarcely escaped him, when the carriage was on its way, and the feet of the horses struck a shower of sparks from the pavement. Maximilian settled himself in his corner without uttering a word. Halfan hour had passed when the carriage stopped suddenly; the count hadjust pulled the silken check-string, which was fastened to Ali's finger. The Nubian immediately descended and opened the carriage door. It wasa lovely starlight night--they had just reached the top of the hillVillejuif, from whence Paris appears like a sombre sea tossing itsmillions of phosphoric waves into light--waves indeed more noisy, morepassionate, more changeable, more furious, more greedy, than thoseof the tempestuous ocean, --waves which never rest as those of the seasometimes do, --waves ever dashing, ever foaming, ever ingulfing whatfalls within their grasp. The count stood alone, and at a sign from hishand, the carriage went on for a short distance. With folded arms, hegazed for some time upon the great city. When he had fixed his piercinglook on this modern Babylon, which equally engages the contemplationof the religious enthusiast, the materialist, and the scoffer, --"Greatcity, " murmured he, inclining his head, and joining his hands as if inprayer, "less than six months have elapsed since first I entered thygates. I believe that the Spirit of God led my steps to thee and that healso enables me to quit thee in triumph; the secret cause of my presencewithin thy walls I have confided alone to him who only has had the powerto read my heart. God only knows that I retire from thee without prideor hatred, but not without many regrets; he only knows that the powerconfided to me has never been made subservient to my personal good or toany useless cause. Oh, great city, it is in thy palpitating bosom thatI have found that which I sought; like a patient miner, I have dugdeep into thy very entrails to root out evil thence. Now my work isaccomplished, my mission is terminated, now thou canst neither afford mepain nor pleasure. Adieu, Paris, adieu!"

His look wandered over the vast plain like that of some genius of thenight; he passed his hand over his brow, got into the carriage, the doorwas closed on him, and the vehicle quickly disappeared down the otherside of the hill in a whirlwind of noise and dust.

Ten leagues were passed and not a single word was uttered.

Morrel was dreaming, and Monte Cristo was looking at the dreamer.

"Morrel, " said the count to him at length, "do you repent havingfollowed me?"

"No, count; but to leave Paris"--

"If I thought happiness might await you in Paris, Morrel, I would haveleft you there. "

"Valentine reposes within the walls of Paris, and to leave Paris is likelosing her a second time. "

"Maximilian, " said the count, "the friends that we have lost do notrepose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deep in our hearts, andit has been thus ordained that we may always be accompanied by them. Ihave two friends, who in this way never depart from me; the one who gaveme being, and the other who conferred knowledge and intelligence on me. Their spirits live in me. I consult them when doubtful, and if I ever doany good, it is due to their beneficent counsels. Listen to the voiceof your heart, Morrel, and ask it whether you ought to preserve thismelancholy exterior towards me. "

"My friend, " said Maximilian, "the voice of my heart is very sorrowful, and promises me nothing but misfortune. "

"It is the way of weakened minds to see everything through a blackcloud. The soul forms its own horizons; your soul is darkened, andconsequently the sky of the future appears stormy and unpromising. "

"That may possibly be true, " said Maximilian, and he again subsided intohis thoughtful mood.

The journey was performed with that marvellous rapidity which theunlimited power of the count ever commanded. Towns fled from them likeshadows on their path, and trees shaken by the first winds of autumnseemed like giants madly rushing on to meet them, and retreatingas rapidly when once reached. The following morning they arrived atChalons, where the count's steamboat waited for them. Without the lossof an instant, the carriage was placed on board and the two travellersembarked without delay. The boat was built for speed; her twopaddle-wheels were like two wings with which she skimmed the water likea bird. Morrel was not insensible to that sensation of delight which isgenerally experienced in passing rapidly through the air, and the windwhich occasionally raised the hair from his forehead seemed on the pointof dispelling momentarily the clouds collected there.

As the distance increased between the travellers and Paris, almostsuperhuman serenity appeared to surround the count; he might have beentaken for an exile about to revisit his native land. Ere long Marseillespresented herself to view, --Marseilles, white, fervid, full of lifeand energy, --Marseilles, the younger sister of Tyre and Carthage, thesuccessor to them in the empire of the Mediterranean, --Marseilles, old, yet always young. Powerful memories were stirred within them by thesight of the round tower, Fort Saint-Nicolas, the City Hall designedby Puget, [*] the port with its brick quays, where they had both playedin childhood, and it was with one accord that they stopped on theCannebiere. A vessel was setting sail for Algiers, on board of which thebustle usually attending departure prevailed. The passengers and theirrelations crowded on the deck, friends taking a tender but sorrowfulleave of each other, some weeping, others noisy in their grief, thewhole forming a spectacle that might be exciting even to those whowitnessed similar sights daily, but which had no power to disturb thecurrent of thought that had taken possession of the mind of Maximilianfrom the moment he had set foot on the broad pavement of the quay.

* Pierre Puget, the sculptor-architect, was born at Marseilles in 1622.

"Here, " said he, leaning heavily on the arm of Monte Cristo, --"here isthe spot where my father stopped, when the Pharaon entered the port; itwas here that the good old man, whom you saved from death and dishonor, threw himself into my arms. I yet feel his warm tears on my face, andhis were not the only tears shed, for many who witnessed our meetingwept also. " Monte Cristo gently smiled and said, --"I was there;" at thesame time pointing to the corner of a street. As he spoke, and in thevery direction he indicated, a groan, expressive of bitter grief, washeard, and a woman was seen waving her hand to a passenger on board thevessel about to sail. Monte Cristo looked at her with an emotion thatmust have been remarked by Morrel had not his eyes been fixed on thevessel.

"Oh, heavens!" exclaimed Morrel, "I do not deceive myself--that youngman who is waving his hat, that youth in the uniform of a lieutenant, isAlbert de Morcerf!"



"Yes, " said Monte Cristo, "I recognized him. "

"How so?--you were looking the other way. " the Count smiled, as he wasin the habit of doing when he did not want to make any reply, and heagain turned towards the veiled woman, who soon disappeared at thecorner of the street. Turning to his friend, --"Dear Maximilian, " saidthe count, "have you nothing to do in this land?"

"I have to weep over the grave of my father, " replied Morrel in a brokenvoice.

"Well, then, go, --wait for me there, and I will soon join you. "

"You leave me, then?"

"Yes; I also have a pious visit to pay. "

Morrel allowed his hand to fall into that which the count extended tohim; then with an inexpressibly sorrowful inclination of the head hequitted the count and bent his steps to the east of the city. MonteCristo remained on the same spot until Maximilian was out of sight; hethen walked slowly towards the Allees de Meillan to seek out a smallhouse with which our readers were made familiar at the beginning of thisstory. It yet stood, under the shade of the fine avenue of lime-trees, which forms one of the most frequent walks of the idlers of Marseilles, covered by an immense vine, which spreads its aged and blackenedbranches over the stone front, burnt yellow by the ardent sun of thesouth. Two stone steps worn away by the friction of many feet led to thedoor, which was made of three planks; the door had never been painted orvarnished, so great cracks yawned in it during the dry season toclose again when the rains came on. The house, with all its crumblingantiquity and apparent misery, was yet cheerful and picturesque, and wasthe same that old Dantes formerly inhabited--the only difference beingthat the old man occupied merely the garret, while the whole house wasnow placed at the command of Mercedes by the count.

The woman whom the count had seen leave the ship with so much regretentered this house; she had scarcely closed the door after her whenMonte Cristo appeared at the corner of a street, so that he found andlost her again almost at the same instant. The worn out steps were oldacquaintances of his; he knew better than any one else how to open thatweather-beaten door with the large headed nail which served to raisethe latch within. He entered without knocking, or giving any otherintimation of his presence, as if he had been a friend or the masterof the place. At the end of a passage paved with bricks, was a littlegarden, bathed in sunshine, and rich in warmth and light. In this gardenMercedes had found, at the place indicated by the count, the sum ofmoney which he, through a sense of delicacy, had described as havingbeen placed there twenty-four years previously. The trees of the gardenwere easily seen from the steps of the street-door. Monte Cristo, onstepping into the house, heard a sigh that was almost a deep sob; helooked in the direction whence it came, and there under an arbor ofVirginia jessamine, [*] with its thick foliage and beautiful long purpleflowers, he saw Mercedes seated, with her head bowed, and weepingbitterly. She had raised her veil, and with her face hidden by her handswas giving free scope to the sighs and tears which had been so longrestrained by the presence of her son. Monte Cristo advanced a fewsteps, which were heard on the gravel. Mercedes raised her head, anduttered a cry of terror on beholding a man before her.

* The Carolina--not Virginia--jessamine, gelsemium sempervirens (properly speaking not a jessamine at all) has yellow blossoms. The reference is no doubt to the Wistaria frutescens. --Ed.

"Madame, " said the count, "it is no longer in my power to restore you tohappiness, but I offer you consolation; will you deign to accept it ascoming from a friend?"

"I am, indeed, most wretched, " replied Mercedes. "Alone in the world, Ihad but my son, and he has left me!"

"He possesses a noble heart, madame, " replied the count, "and he hasacted rightly. He feels that every man owes a tribute to his country;some contribute their talents, others their industry; these devote theirblood, those their nightly labors, to the same cause. Had he remainedwith you, his life must have become a hateful burden, nor would he haveparticipated in your griefs. He will increase in strength and honor bystruggling with adversity, which he will convert into prosperity. Leave him to build up the future for you, and I venture to say you willconfide it to safe hands. "

"Oh, " replied the wretched woman, mournfully shaking her head, "theprosperity of which you speak, and which, from the bottom of my heart, Ipray God in his mercy to grant him, I can never enjoy. The bitter cup ofadversity has been drained by me to the very dregs, and I feel that thegrave is not far distant. You have acted kindly, count, in bringing meback to the place where I have enjoyed so much bliss. I ought to meetdeath on the same spot where happiness was once all my own. "

"Alas, " said Monte Cristo, "your words sear and embitter my heart, themore so as you have every reason to hate me. I have been the cause ofall your misfortunes; but why do you pity, instead of blaming me? Yourender me still more unhappy"--

"Hate you, blame you--you, Edmond! Hate, reproach, the man that hasspared my son's life! For was it not your fatal and sanguinary intentionto destroy that son of whom M. De Morcerf was so proud? Oh, look at meclosely, and discover if you can even the semblance of a reproach inme. " The count looked up and fixed his eyes on Mercedes, who arosepartly from her seat and extended both her hands towards him. "Oh, lookat me, " continued she, with a feeling of profound melancholy, "my eyesno longer dazzle by their brilliancy, for the time has long fled since Iused to smile on Edmond Dantes, who anxiously looked out for me fromthe window of yonder garret, then inhabited by his old father. Yearsof grief have created an abyss between those days and the present. Ineither reproach you nor hate you, my friend. Oh, no, Edmond, it ismyself that I blame, myself that I hate! Oh, miserable creature that Iam!" cried she, clasping her hands, and raising her eyes to heaven. "Ionce possessed piety, innocence, and love, the three ingredients of thehappiness of angels, and now what am I?" Monte Cristo approached her, and silently took her hand. "No, " said she, withdrawing it gently--"no, my friend, touch me not. You have spared me, yet of all those who havefallen under your vengeance I was the most guilty. They were influencedby hatred, by avarice, and by self-love; but I was base, and for wantof courage acted against my judgment. Nay, do not press my hand, Edmond;you are thinking, I am sure, of some kind speech to console me, but donot utter it to me, reserve it for others more worthy of your kindness. See" (and she exposed her face completely to view)--"see, misfortunehas silvered my hair, my eyes have shed so many tears that they areencircled by a rim of purple, and my brow is wrinkled. You, Edmond, onthe contrary, --you are still young, handsome, dignified; it is becauseyou have had faith; because you have had strength, because you have hadtrust in God, and God has sustained you. But as for me, I have been acoward; I have denied God and he has abandoned me. "

Mercedes burst into tears; her woman's heart was breaking under its loadof memories. Monte Cristo took her hand and imprinted a kiss on it; butshe herself felt that it was a kiss of no greater warmth than he wouldhave bestowed on the hand of some marble statue of a saint. "It oftenhappens, " continued she, "that a first fault destroys the prospects of awhole life. I believed you dead; why did I survive you? What good hasit done me to mourn for you eternally in the secret recesses of myheart?--only to make a woman of thirty-nine look like a woman of fifty. Why, having recognized you, and I the only one to do so--why was I ableto save my son alone? Ought I not also to have rescued the man that Ihad accepted for a husband, guilty though he were? Yet I let him die!What do I say? Oh, merciful heavens, was I not accessory to his death bymy supine insensibility, by my contempt for him, not remembering, or notwilling to remember, that it was for my sake he had become a traitor anda perjurer? In what am I benefited by accompanying my son so far, sinceI now abandon him, and allow him to depart alone to the baneful climateof Africa? Oh, I have been base, cowardly, I tell you; I have abjuredmy affections, and like all renegades I am of evil omen to those whosurround me!"

"No, Mercedes, " said Monte Cristo, "no; you judge yourself with toomuch severity. You are a noble-minded woman, and it was your griefthat disarmed me. Still I was but an agent, led on by an invisible andoffended Deity, who chose not to withhold the fatal blow that I wasdestined to hurl. I take that God to witness, at whose feet I haveprostrated myself daily for the last ten years, that I would havesacrificed my life to you, and with my life the projects that wereindissolubly linked with it. But--and I say it with some pride, Mercedes--God needed me, and I lived. Examine the past and the present, and endeavor to dive into futurity, and then say whether I am not adivine instrument. The most dreadful misfortunes, the most frightfulsufferings, the abandonment of all those who loved me, the persecutionof those who did not know me, formed the trials of my youth; whensuddenly, from captivity, solitude, misery, I was restored to lightand liberty, and became the possessor of a fortune so brilliant, so unbounded, so unheard-of, that I must have been blind not to beconscious that God had endowed me with it to work out his own greatdesigns. From that time I looked upon this fortune as something confidedto me for an especial purpose. Not a thought was given to a life whichyou once, Mercedes, had the power to render blissful; not one hourof peaceful calm was mine; but I felt myself driven on like anexterminating angel. Like adventurous captains about to embark on someenterprise full of danger, I laid in my provisions, I loaded my weapons, I collected every means of attack and defence; I inured my body to themost violent exercises, my soul to the bitterest trials; I taught myarm to slay, my eyes to behold excruciating sufferings, and my mouthto smile at the most horrid spectacles. Good-natured, confiding, andforgiving as I had been, I became revengeful, cunning, and wicked, orrather, immovable as fate. Then I launched out into the path that wasopened to me. I overcame every obstacle, and reached the goal; but woeto those who stood in my pathway!"

"Enough, " said Mercedes; "enough, Edmond! Believe me, that she who alonerecognized you has been the only one to comprehend you; and had shecrossed your path, and you had crushed her like glass, still, Edmond, still she must have admired you! Like the gulf between me and the past, there is an abyss between you, Edmond, and the rest of mankind; and Itell you freely that the comparison I draw between you and other menwill ever be one of my greatest tortures. No, there is nothing in theworld to resemble you in worth and goodness! But we must say farewell, Edmond, and let us part. "

"Before I leave you, Mercedes, have you no request to make?" said thecount.

"I desire but one thing in this world, Edmond, --the happiness of myson. "

"Pray to the Almighty to spare his life, and I will take upon myself topromote his happiness. "

"Thank you, Edmond. "

"But have you no request to make for yourself, Mercedes?"

"For myself I want nothing. I live, as it were, between two graves. Oneis that of Edmond Dantes, lost to me long, long since. He had my love!That word ill becomes my faded lip now, but it is a memory dear to myheart, and one that I would not lose for all that the world contains. The other grave is that of the man who met his death from the hand ofEdmond Dantes. I approve of the deed, but I must pray for the dead. "

"Your son shall be happy, Mercedes, " repeated the count.

"Then I shall enjoy as much happiness as this world can possiblyconfer. "

"But what are your intentions?"

"To say that I shall live here, like the Mercedes of other times, gaining my bread by labor, would not be true, nor would you believe me. I have no longer the strength to do anything but to spend my days inprayer. However, I shall have no occasion to work, for the little sum ofmoney buried by you, and which I found in the place you mentioned, willbe sufficient to maintain me. Rumor will probably be busy respecting me, my occupations, my manner of living--that will signify but little. "

"Mercedes, " said the count, "I do not say it to blame you, but youmade an unnecessary sacrifice in relinquishing the whole of the fortuneamassed by M. De Morcerf; half of it at least by right belonged to you, in virtue of your vigilance and economy. "

"I perceive what you are intending to propose to me; but I cannot acceptit, Edmond--my son would not permit it. "

"Nothing shall be done without the full approbation of Albert deMorcerf. I will make myself acquainted with his intentions and willsubmit to them. But if he be willing to accept my offers, will youoppose them?"

"You well know, Edmond, that I am no longer a reasoning creature; Ihave no will, unless it be the will never to decide. I have been sooverwhelmed by the many storms that have broken over my head, that Iam become passive in the hands of the Almighty, like a sparrow in thetalons of an eagle. I live, because it is not ordained for me to die. Ifsuccor be sent to me, I will accept it. "

"Ah, madame, " said Monte Cristo, "you should not talk thus! It is not sowe should evince our resignation to the will of heaven; on the contrary, we are all free agents. "

"Alas!" exclaimed Mercedes, "if it were so, if I possessed free-will, but without the power to render that will efficacious, it would drive meto despair. " Monte Cristo dropped his head and shrank from the vehemenceof her grief. "Will you not even say you will see me again?" he asked.

"On the contrary, we shall meet again, " said Mercedes, pointing toheaven with solemnity. "I tell you so to prove to you that I stillhope. " And after pressing her own trembling hand upon that of the count, Mercedes rushed up the stairs and disappeared. Monte Cristo slowly leftthe house and turned towards the quay. But Mercedes did not witnesshis departure, although she was seated at the little window of the roomwhich had been occupied by old Dantes. Her eyes were straining to seethe ship which was carrying her son over the vast sea; but still hervoice involuntarily murmured softly, "Edmond, Edmond, Edmond!"

Chapter 113. The Past.

The count departed with a sad heart from the house in which he had leftMercedes, probably never to behold her again. Since the death of littleEdward a great change had taken place in Monte Cristo. Having reachedthe summit of his vengeance by a long and tortuous path, he saw an abyssof doubt yawning before him. More than this, the conversation whichhad just taken place between Mercedes and himself had awakened so manyrecollections in his heart that he felt it necessary to combat withthem. A man of the count's temperament could not long indulge in thatmelancholy which can exist in common minds, but which destroys superiorones. He thought he must have made an error in his calculations if henow found cause to blame himself.

"I cannot have deceived myself, " he said; "I must look upon the past ina false light. What!" he continued, "can I have been following a falsepath?--can the end which I proposed be a mistaken end?--can one hourhave sufficed to prove to an architect that the work upon whichhe founded all his hopes was an impossible, if not a sacrilegious, undertaking? I cannot reconcile myself to this idea--it would maddenme. The reason why I am now dissatisfied is that I have not a clearappreciation of the past. The past, like the country through which wewalk, becomes indistinct as we advance. My position is like that ofa person wounded in a dream; he feels the wound, though he cannotrecollect when he received it. Come, then, thou regenerate man, thou extravagant prodigal, thou awakened sleeper, thou all-powerfulvisionary, thou invincible millionaire, --once again review thy pastlife of starvation and wretchedness, revisit the scenes where fateand misfortune conducted, and where despair received thee. Too manydiamonds, too much gold and splendor, are now reflected by the mirror inwhich Monte Cristo seeks to behold Dantes. Hide thy diamonds, bury thygold, shroud thy splendor, exchange riches for poverty, liberty for aprison, a living body for a corpse!" As he thus reasoned, Monte Cristowalked down the Rue de la Caisserie. It was the same through which, twenty-four years ago, he had been conducted by a silent and nocturnalguard; the houses, to-day so smiling and animated, were on that nightdark, mute, and closed. "And yet they were the same, " murmured MonteCristo, "only now it is broad daylight instead of night; it is the sunwhich brightens the place, and makes it appear so cheerful. "

He proceeded towards the quay by the Rue Saint-Laurent, and advanced tothe Consigne; it was the point where he had embarked. A pleasure-boatwith striped awning was going by. Monte Cristo called the owner, whoimmediately rowed up to him with the eagerness of a boatman hoping for agood fare. The weather was magnificent, and the excursion a treat.

The sun, red and flaming, was sinking into the embrace of the welcomingocean. The sea, smooth as crystal, was now and then disturbed by theleaping of fish, which were pursued by some unseen enemy and sought forsafety in another element; while on the extreme verge of the horizonmight be seen the fishermen's boats, white and graceful as the sea-gull, or the merchant vessels bound for Corsica or Spain.

But notwithstanding the serene sky, the gracefully formed boats, andthe golden light in which the whole scene was bathed, the Count of MonteCristo, wrapped in his cloak, could think only of this terrible voyage, the details of which were one by one recalled to his memory. Thesolitary light burning at the Catalans; that first sight of the Chateaud'If, which told him whither they were leading him; the struggle withthe gendarmes when he wished to throw himself overboard; his despairwhen he found himself vanquished, and the sensation when the muzzle ofthe carbine touched his forehead--all these were brought before himin vivid and frightful reality. Like the streams which the heat of thesummer has dried up, and which after the autumnal storms gradually beginoozing drop by drop, so did the count feel his heart gradually fill withthe bitterness which formerly nearly overwhelmed Edmond Dantes. Clearsky, swift-flitting boats, and brilliant sunshine disappeared; theheavens were hung with black, and the gigantic structure of the Chateaud'If seemed like the phantom of a mortal enemy. As they reached theshore, the count instinctively shrunk to the extreme end of the boat, and the owner was obliged to call out, in his sweetest tone of voice, "Sir, we are at the landing. "

Monte Cristo remembered that on that very spot, on the same rock, he hadbeen violently dragged by the guards, who forced him to ascend the slopeat the points of their bayonets. The journey had seemed very long toDantes, but Monte Cristo found it equally short. Each stroke of the oarseemed to awaken a new throng of ideas, which sprang up with the flyingspray of the sea.

There had been no prisoners confined in the Chateau d'If since therevolution of July; it was only inhabited by a guard, kept there for theprevention of smuggling. A concierge waited at the door to exhibit tovisitors this monument of curiosity, once a scene of terror. The countinquired whether any of the ancient jailers were still there; but theyhad all been pensioned, or had passed on to some other employment. Theconcierge who attended him had only been there since 1830. He visitedhis own dungeon. He again beheld the dull light vainly endeavoring topenetrate the narrow opening. His eyes rested upon the spot where hadstood his bed, since then removed, and behind the bed the new stonesindicated where the breach made by the Abbe Faria had been. Monte Cristofelt his limbs tremble; he seated himself upon a log of wood.

"Are there any stories connected with this prison besides the onerelating to the poisoning of Mirabeau?" asked the count; "are there anytraditions respecting these dismal abodes, --in which it is difficult tobelieve men can ever have imprisoned their fellow-creatures?"

"Yes, sir; indeed, the jailer Antoine told me one connected with thisvery dungeon. "

Monte Cristo shuddered; Antoine had been his jailer. He had almostforgotten his name and face, but at the mention of the name he recalledhis person as he used to see it, the face encircled by a beard, wearingthe brown jacket, the bunch of keys, the jingling of which he stillseemed to hear. The count turned around, and fancied he saw him in thecorridor, rendered still darker by the torch carried by the concierge. "Would you like to hear the story, sir?"

"Yes; relate it, " said Monte Cristo, pressing his hand to his heart tostill its violent beatings; he felt afraid of hearing his own history.

"This dungeon, " said the concierge, "was, it appears, some time agooccupied by a very dangerous prisoner, the more so since he was full ofindustry. Another person was confined in the Chateau at the same time, but he was not wicked, he was only a poor mad priest. "

"Ah, indeed?--mad!" repeated Monte Cristo; "and what was his mania?"

"He offered millions to any one who would set him at liberty. "

Monte Cristo raised his eyes, but he could not see the heavens; therewas a stone veil between him and the firmament. He thought that therehad been no less thick a veil before the eyes of those to whom Fariaoffered the treasures. "Could the prisoners see each other?" he asked.

"Oh, no, sir, it was expressly forbidden; but they eluded the vigilanceof the guards, and made a passage from one dungeon to the other. "

"And which of them made this passage?"

"Oh, it must have been the young man, certainly, for he was strong andindustrious, while the abbe was aged and weak; besides, his mind was toovacillating to allow him to carry out an idea. "

"Blind fools!" murmured the count.

"However, be that as it may, the young man made a tunnel, how or bywhat means no one knows; but he made it, and there is the evidence yetremaining of his work. Do you see it?" and the man held the torch to thewall.

"Ah, yes; I see, " said the count, in a voice hoarse from emotion.

"The result was that the two men communicated with one another; how longthey did so, nobody knows. One day the old man fell ill and died. Nowguess what the young one did?"

"Tell me. "

"He carried off the corpse, which he placed in his own bed with its faceto the wall; then he entered the empty dungeon, closed the entrance, andslipped into the sack which had contained the dead body. Did you everhear of such an idea?" Monte Cristo closed his eyes, and seemed againto experience all the sensations he had felt when the coarse canvas, yet moist with the cold dews of death, had touched his face. The jailercontinued: "Now this was his project. He fancied that they buried thedead at the Chateau d'If, and imagining they would not expend much laboron the grave of a prisoner, he calculated on raising the earth withhis shoulders, but unfortunately their arrangements at the Chateaufrustrated his projects. They never buried the dead; they merelyattached a heavy cannon-ball to the feet, and then threw them into thesea. This is what was done. The young man was thrown from the top of therock; the corpse was found on the bed next day, and the whole truth wasguessed, for the men who performed the office then mentioned what theyhad not dared to speak of before, that at the moment the corpse wasthrown into the deep, they heard a shriek, which was almost immediatelystifled by the water in which it disappeared. " The count breathed withdifficulty; the cold drops ran down his forehead, and his heart was fullof anguish.

"No, " he muttered, "the doubt I felt was but the commencement offorgetfulness; but here the wound reopens, and the heart again thirstsfor vengeance. And the prisoner, " he continued aloud, "was he ever heardof afterwards?"

"Oh, no; of course not. You can understand that one of two things musthave happened; he must either have fallen flat, in which case the blow, from a height of ninety feet, must have killed him instantly, or he musthave fallen upright, and then the weight would have dragged him to thebottom, where he remained--poor fellow!"

"Then you pity him?" said the count.

"Ma foi, yes; though he was in his own element. "

"What do you mean?"

"The report was that he had been a naval officer, who had been confinedfor plotting with the Bonapartists. "

"Great is truth, " muttered the count, "fire cannot burn, nor water drownit! Thus the poor sailor lives in the recollection of those who narratehis history; his terrible story is recited in the chimney-corner, and ashudder is felt at the description of his transit through the air to beswallowed by the deep. " Then, the count added aloud, "Was his name everknown?"

"Oh, yes; but only as No. 34. "

"Oh, Villefort, Villefort, " murmured the count, "this scene must oftenhave haunted thy sleepless hours!"

"Do you wish to see anything more, sir?" said the concierge.

"Yes, especially if you will show me the poor abbe's room. "

"Ah--No. 27. "

"Yes; No. 27. " repeated the count, who seemed to hear the voice of theabbe answering him in those very words through the wall when asked hisname.

"Come, sir. "

"Wait, " said Monte Cristo, "I wish to take one final glance around thisroom. "

"This is fortunate, " said the guide; "I have forgotten the other key. "

"Go and fetch it. "

"I will leave you the torch, sir. "

"No, take it away; I can see in the dark. "

"Why, you are like No. 34. They said he was so accustomed to darknessthat he could see a pin in the darkest corner of his dungeon. "

"He spent fourteen years to arrive at that, " muttered the count.

The guide carried away the torch. The count had spoken correctly. Scarcely had a few seconds elapsed, ere he saw everything as distinctlyas by daylight. Then he looked around him, and really recognized hisdungeon.

"Yes, " he said, "there is the stone upon which I used to sit; there isthe impression made by my shoulders on the wall; there is the mark ofmy blood made when one day I dashed my head against the wall. Oh, thosefigures, how well I remember them! I made them one day to calculatethe age of my father, that I might know whether I should find him stillliving, and that of Mercedes, to know if I should find her still free. After finishing that calculation, I had a minute's hope. I did notreckon upon hunger and infidelity!" and a bitter laugh escaped thecount. He saw in fancy the burial of his father, and the marriage ofMercedes. On the other side of the dungeon he perceived an inscription, the white letters of which were still visible on the green wall. "'OGod, '" he read, "'preserve my memory!' Oh, yes, " he cried, "that wasmy only prayer at last; I no longer begged for liberty, but memory;I dreaded to become mad and forgetful. O God, thou hast preserved mymemory; I thank thee, I thank thee!" At this moment the light of thetorch was reflected on the wall; the guide was coming; Monte Cristo wentto meet him.

"Follow me, sir;" and without ascending the stairs the guide conductedhim by a subterraneous passage to another entrance. There, again, MonteCristo was assailed by a multitude of thoughts. The first thing thatmet his eye was the meridian, drawn by the abbe on the wall, by whichhe calculated the time; then he saw the remains of the bed on whichthe poor prisoner had died. The sight of this, instead of exciting theanguish experienced by the count in the dungeon, filled his heart with asoft and grateful sentiment, and tears fell from his eyes.

"This is where the mad abbe was kept, sir, and that is where the youngman entered;" and the guide pointed to the opening, which had remainedunclosed. "From the appearance of the stone, " he continued, "a learnedgentleman discovered that the prisoners might have communicated togetherfor ten years. Poor things! Those must have been ten weary years. "

Dantes took some louis from his pocket, and gave them to the man whohad twice unconsciously pitied him. The guide took them, thinking themmerely a few pieces of little value; but the light of the torch revealedtheir true worth. "Sir, " he said, "you have made a mistake; you havegiven me gold. "

"I know it. " The concierge looked upon the count with surprise. "Sir, "he cried, scarcely able to believe his good fortune--"sir, I cannotunderstand your generosity!"

"Oh, it is very simple, my good fellow; I have been a sailor, and yourstory touched me more than it would others. "

"Then, sir, since you are so liberal, I ought to offer you something. "

"What have you to offer to me, my friend? Shells? Straw-work? Thankyou!"

"No, sir, neither of those; something connected with this story. "

"Really? What is it?"

"Listen, " said the guide; "I said to myself, 'Something is always leftin a cell inhabited by one prisoner for fifteen years, ' so I began tosound the wall. "

"Ah, " cried Monte Cristo, remembering the abbe's two hiding-places.

"After some search, I found that the floor gave a hollow sound near thehead of the bed, and at the hearth. "

"Yes, " said the count, "yes. "

"I raised the stones, and found"--

"A rope-ladder and some tools?"

"How do you know that?" asked the guide in astonishment.

"I do not know--I only guess it, because that sort of thing is generallyfound in prisoners' cells. "

"Yes, sir, a rope-ladder and tools. "

"And have you them yet?"

"No, sir; I sold them to visitors, who considered them greatcuriosities; but I have still something left. "

"What is it?" asked the count, impatiently.

"A sort of book, written upon strips of cloth. "

"Go and fetch it, my good fellow; and if it be what I hope, you will dowell. "

"I will run for it, sir;" and the guide went out. Then the count kneltdown by the side of the bed, which death had converted into an altar. "Oh, second father, " he exclaimed, "thou who hast given me liberty, knowledge, riches; thou who, like beings of a superior order toourselves, couldst understand the science of good and evil; if in thedepths of the tomb there still remain something within us which canrespond to the voice of those who are left on earth; if after death thesoul ever revisit the places where we have lived and suffered, --then, noble heart, sublime soul, then I conjure thee by the paternal love thoudidst bear me, by the filial obedience I vowed to thee, grant me somesign, some revelation! Remove from me the remains of doubt, which, ifit change not to conviction, must become remorse!" The count bowed hishead, and clasped his hands together.

"Here, sir, " said a voice behind him.

Monte Cristo shuddered, and arose. The concierge held out the strips ofcloth upon which the Abbe Faria had spread the riches of his mind. Themanuscript was the great work by the Abbe Faria upon the kingdoms ofItaly. The count seized it hastily, his eyes immediately fell upon theepigraph, and he read, "'Thou shalt tear out the dragons' teeth, andshall trample the lions under foot, saith the Lord. '"

"Ah, " he exclaimed, "here is my answer. Thanks, father, thanks. "And feeling in his pocket, he took thence a small pocket-book, whichcontained ten bank-notes, each of 1, 000. Francs.

"Here, " he said, "take this pocket-book. "

"Do you give it to me?"

"Yes; but only on condition that you will not open it till I am gone;"and placing in his breast the treasure he had just found, which was morevaluable to him than the richest jewel, he rushed out of the corridor, and reaching his boat, cried, "To Marseilles!" Then, as he departed, hefixed his eyes upon the gloomy prison. "Woe, " he cried, "to those whoconfined me in that wretched prison; and woe to those who forgot thatI was there!" As he repassed the Catalans, the count turned around andburying his head in his cloak murmured the name of a woman. The victorywas complete; twice he had overcome his doubts. The name he pronounced, in a voice of tenderness, amounting almost to love, was that of Haidee.

On landing, the count turned towards the cemetery, where he felt sure offinding Morrel. He, too, ten years ago, had piously sought out a tomb, and sought it vainly. He, who returned to France with millions, had beenunable to find the grave of his father, who had perished from hunger. Morrel had indeed placed a cross over the spot, but it had fallen downand the grave-digger had burnt it, as he did all the old wood in thechurchyard. The worthy merchant had been more fortunate. Dying in thearms of his children, he had been by them laid by the side of hiswife, who had preceded him in eternity by two years. Two large slabs ofmarble, on which were inscribed their names, were placed on either sideof a little enclosure, railed in, and shaded by four cypress-trees. Morrel was leaning against one of these, mechanically fixing his eyeson the graves. His grief was so profound that he was nearly unconscious. "Maximilian, " said the count, "you should not look on the graves, butthere;" and he pointed upwards.

"The dead are everywhere, " said Morrel; "did you not yourself tell me soas we left Paris?"

"Maximilian, " said the count, "you asked me during the journey to allowyou to remain some days at Marseilles. Do you still wish to do so?"

"I have no wishes, count; only I fancy I could pass the time lesspainfully here than anywhere else. "

"So much the better, for I must leave you; but I carry your word withme, do I not?"

"Ah, count, I shall forget it. "

"No, you will not forget it, because you are a man of honor, Morrel, because you have taken an oath, and are about to do so again. "

"Oh, count, have pity upon me. I am so unhappy. "

"I have known a man much more unfortunate than you, Morrel. "

"Impossible!"

"Alas, " said Monte Cristo, "it is the infirmity of our nature always tobelieve ourselves much more unhappy than those who groan by our sides!"

"What can be more wretched than the man who has lost all he loved anddesired in the world?"

"Listen, Morrel, and pay attention to what I am about to tell you. Iknew a man who like you had fixed all his hopes of happiness upon awoman. He was young, he had an old father whom he loved, a betrothedbride whom he adored. He was about to marry her, when one of thecaprices of fate, --which would almost make us doubt the goodness ofprovidence, if that providence did not afterwards reveal itself byproving that all is but a means of conducting to an end, --one of thosecaprices deprived him of his mistress, of the future of which he haddreamed (for in his blindness he forgot he could only read the present), and cast him into a dungeon. "

"Ah, " said Morrel, "one quits a dungeon in a week, a month, or a year. "

"He remained there fourteen years, Morrel, " said the count, placing hishand on the young man's shoulder. Maximilian shuddered.

"Fourteen years!" he muttered--"Fourteen years!" repeated the count. "During that time he had many moments of despair. He also, Morrel, likeyou, considered himself the unhappiest of men. "

"Well?" asked Morrel.

"Well, at the height of his despair God assisted him through humanmeans. At first, perhaps, he did not recognize the infinite mercy of theLord, but at last he took patience and waited. One day he miraculouslyleft the prison, transformed, rich, powerful. His first cry was for hisfather; but that father was dead. "

"My father, too, is dead, " said Morrel.

"Yes; but your father died in your arms, happy, respected, rich, andfull of years; his father died poor, despairing, almost doubtful ofprovidence; and when his son sought his grave ten years afterwards, histomb had disappeared, and no one could say, 'There sleeps the father youso well loved. '"



"Oh!" exclaimed Morrel.

"He was, then, a more unhappy son than you, Morrel, for he could noteven find his father's grave. "

"But then he had the woman he loved still remaining?"

"You are deceived, Morrel, that woman"--

"She was dead?"

"Worse than that, she was faithless, and had married one of thepersecutors of her betrothed. You see, then, Morrel, that he was a moreunhappy lover than you. "

"And has he found consolation?"

"He has at least found peace. "

"And does he ever expect to be happy?"

"He hopes so, Maximilian. " The young man's head fell on his breast.

"You have my promise, " he said, after a minute's pause, extending hishand to Monte Cristo. "Only remember"--

"On the 5th of October, Morrel, I shall expect you at the Island ofMonte Cristo. On the 4th a yacht will wait for you in the port ofBastia, it will be called the Eurus. You will give your name to thecaptain, who will bring you to me. It is understood--is it not?"

"But, count, do you remember that the 5th of October"--

"Child, " replied the count, "not to know the value of a man's word! Ihave told you twenty times that if you wish to die on that day, I willassist you. Morrel, farewell!"

"Do you leave me?"

"Yes; I have business in Italy. I leave you alone with your misfortunes, and with hope, Maximilian. "

"When do you leave?"

"Immediately; the steamer waits, and in an hour I shall be far from you. Will you accompany me to the harbor, Maximilian?"

"I am entirely yours, count. " Morrel accompanied the count to theharbor. The white steam was ascending like a plume of feathers from theblack chimney. The steamer soon disappeared, and in an hour afterwards, as the count had said, was scarcely distinguishable in the horizonamidst the fogs of the night.

Chapter 114. Peppino.

At the same time that the steamer disappeared behind Cape Morgion, a mantravelling post on the road from Florence to Rome had just passed thelittle town of Aquapendente. He was travelling fast enough to cover agreat deal of ground without exciting suspicion. This man was dressedin a greatcoat, or rather a surtout, a little worse for the journey, but which exhibited the ribbon of the Legion of Honor still fresh andbrilliant, a decoration which also ornamented the under coat. He mightbe recognized, not only by these signs, but also from the accent withwhich he spoke to the postilion, as a Frenchman. Another proof that hewas a native of the universal country was apparent in the fact of hisknowing no other Italian words than the terms used in music, andwhich like the "goddam" of Figaro, served all possible linguisticrequirements. "Allegro!" he called out to the postilions at everyascent. "Moderato!" he cried as they descended. And heaven knows thereare hills enough between Rome and Florence by the way of Aquapendente!These two words greatly amused the men to whom they were addressed. Onreaching La Storta, the point from whence Rome is first visible, thetraveller evinced none of the enthusiastic curiosity which usually leadsstrangers to stand up and endeavor to catch sight of the dome ofSt. Peter's, which may be seen long before any other object isdistinguishable. No, he merely drew a pocketbook from his pocket, andtook from it a paper folded in four, and after having examined it in amanner almost reverential, he said--"Good! I have it still!"

The carriage entered by the Porto del Popolo, turned to the left, andstopped at the Hotel d'Espagne. Old Pastrini, our former acquaintance, received the traveller at the door, hat in hand. The traveller alighted, ordered a good dinner, and inquired the address of the house of Thomson& French, which was immediately given to him, as it was one of the mostcelebrated in Rome. It was situated in the Via dei Banchi, near St. Peter's. In Rome, as everywhere else, the arrival of a post-chaise is anevent. Ten young descendants of Marius and the Gracchi, barefooted andout at elbows, with one hand resting on the hip and the other gracefullycurved above the head, stared at the traveller, the post-chaise, and thehorses; to these were added about fifty little vagabonds from the PapalStates, who earned a pittance by diving into the Tiber at high waterfrom the bridge of St. Angelo. Now, as these street Arabs of Rome, more fortunate than those of Paris, understand every language, moreespecially the French, they heard the traveller order an apartment, adinner, and finally inquire the way to the house of Thomson & French. The result was that when the new-comer left the hotel with the cicerone, a man detached himself from the rest of the idlers, and without havingbeen seen by the traveller, and appearing to excite no attention fromthe guide, followed the stranger with as much skill as a Parisian policeagent would have used.

The Frenchman had been so impatient to reach the house of Thomson &French that he would not wait for the horses to be harnessed, but leftword for the carriage to overtake him on the road, or to wait for himat the bankers' door. He reached it before the carriage arrived. TheFrenchman entered, leaving in the anteroom his guide, who immediatelyentered into conversation with two or three of the industrious idlerswho are always to be found in Rome at the doors of banking-houses, churches, museums, or theatres. With the Frenchman, the man who hadfollowed him entered too; the Frenchman knocked at the inner door, andentered the first room; his shadow did the same.

"Messrs. Thomson & French?" inquired the stranger.

An attendant arose at a sign from a confidential clerk at the firstdesk. "Whom shall I announce?" said the attendant.

"Baron Danglars. "

"Follow me, " said the man. A door opened, through which the attendantand the baron disappeared. The man who had followed Danglars sat down ona bench. The clerk continued to write for the next five minutes; the manpreserved profound silence, and remained perfectly motionless. Then thepen of the clerk ceased to move over the paper; he raised his head, andappearing to be perfectly sure of privacy, --"Ah, ha, " he said, "here youare, Peppino!"

"Yes, " was the laconic reply. "You have found out that there issomething worth having about this large gentleman?"

"There is no great merit due to me, for we were informed of it. "

"You know his business here, then. "

"Pardieu, he has come to draw, but I don't know how much!"

"You will know presently, my friend. "

"Very well, only do not give me false information as you did the otherday. "

"What do you mean?--of whom do you speak? Was it the Englishman whocarried off 3, 000 crowns from here the other day?"

"No; he really had 3, 000 crowns, and we found them. I mean the Russianprince, who you said had 30, 000 livres, and we only found 22, 000. "

"You must have searched badly. "

"Luigi Vampa himself searched. "

"Indeed? But you must let me make my observations, or the Frenchman willtransact his business without my knowing the sum. " Peppino nodded, andtaking a rosary from his pocket began to mutter a few prayers whilethe clerk disappeared through the same door by which Danglars and theattendant had gone out. At the expiration of ten minutes the clerkreturned with a beaming countenance. "Well?" asked Peppino of hisfriend.

"Joy, joy--the sum is large!"

"Five or six millions, is it not?"

"Yes, you know the amount. "

"On the receipt of the Count of Monte Cristo?"

"Why, how came you to be so well acquainted with all this?"

"I told you we were informed beforehand. "

"Then why do you apply to me?"

"That I may be sure I have the right man. "

"Yes, it is indeed he. Five millions--a pretty sum, eh, Peppino?"

"Hush--here is our man!" The clerk seized his pen, and Peppino hisbeads; one was writing and the other praying when the door opened. Danglars looked radiant with joy; the banker accompanied him to thedoor. Peppino followed Danglars.

According to the arrangements, the carriage was waiting at the door. Theguide held the door open. Guides are useful people, who will turn theirhands to anything. Danglars leaped into the carriage like a young man oftwenty. The cicerone reclosed the door, and sprang up by the side of thecoachman. Peppino mounted the seat behind.

"Will your excellency visit St. Peter's?" asked the cicerone.

"I did not come to Rome to see, " said Danglars aloud; then he addedsoftly, with an avaricious smile, "I came to touch!" and he rapped hispocket-book, in which he had just placed a letter.

"Then your excellency is going"--

"To the hotel. "

"Casa Pastrini!" said the cicerone to the coachman, and the carriagedrove rapidly on. Ten minutes afterwards the baron entered hisapartment, and Peppino stationed himself on the bench outside the doorof the hotel, after having whispered something in the ear of one of thedescendants of Marius and the Gracchi whom we noticed at the beginningof the chapter, who immediately ran down the road leading to the Capitolat his fullest speed. Danglars was tired and sleepy; he therefore wentto bed, placing his pocketbook under his pillow. Peppino had a littlespare time, so he had a game of mora with the facchini, lost threecrowns, and then to console himself drank a bottle of Orvieto.

The next morning Danglars awoke late, though he went to bed so early; hehad not slept well for five or six nights, even if he had slept at all. He breakfasted heartily, and caring little, as he said, for the beautiesof the Eternal City, ordered post-horses at noon. But Danglars had notreckoned upon the formalities of the police and the idleness of theposting-master. The horses only arrived at two o'clock, and the ciceronedid not bring the passport till three. All these preparations hadcollected a number of idlers round the door of Signor Pastrini's; thedescendants of Marius and the Gracchi were also not wanting. The baronwalked triumphantly through the crowd, who for the sake of gain styledhim "your excellency. " As Danglars had hitherto contented himselfwith being called a baron, he felt rather flattered at the title ofexcellency, and distributed a dozen silver coins among the beggars, whowere ready, for twelve more, to call him "your highness. "

"Which road?" asked the postilion in Italian. "The Ancona road, " repliedthe baron. Signor Pastrini interpreted the question and answer, and thehorses galloped off. Danglars intended travelling to Venice, where hewould receive one part of his fortune, and then proceeding to Vienna, where he would find the rest, he meant to take up his residence in thelatter town, which he had been told was a city of pleasure.

He had scarcely advanced three leagues out of Rome when daylight beganto disappear. Danglars had not intended starting so late, or he wouldhave remained; he put his head out and asked the postilion how longit would be before they reached the next town. "Non capisco" (do notunderstand), was the reply. Danglars bent his head, which he meant toimply, "Very well. " The carriage again moved on. "I will stop at thefirst posting-house, " said Danglars to himself.

He still felt the same self-satisfaction which he had experienced theprevious evening, and which had procured him so good a night's rest. Hewas luxuriously stretched in a good English calash, with double springs;he was drawn by four good horses, at full gallop; he knew the relayto be at a distance of seven leagues. What subject of meditation couldpresent itself to the banker, so fortunately become bankrupt?

Danglars thought for ten minutes about his wife in Paris; another tenminutes about his daughter travelling with Mademoiselle d'Armilly;the same period was given to his creditors, and the manner in whichhe intended spending their money; and then, having no subject left forcontemplation, he shut his eyes, and fell asleep. Now and then a joltmore violent than the rest caused him to open his eyes; then he feltthat he was still being carried with great rapidity over the samecountry, thickly strewn with broken aqueducts, which looked like granitegiants petrified while running a race. But the night was cold, dull, andrainy, and it was much more pleasant for a traveller to remain in thewarm carriage than to put his head out of the window to make inquiriesof a postilion whose only answer was "Non capisco. "

Danglars therefore continued to sleep, saying to himself that he wouldbe sure to awake at the posting-house. The carriage stopped. Danglarsfancied that they had reached the long-desired point; he opened his eyesand looked through the window, expecting to find himself in the midstof some town, or at least village; but he saw nothing except whatseemed like a ruin, where three or four men went and came like shadows. Danglars waited a moment, expecting the postilion to come and demandpayment with the termination of his stage. He intended taking advantageof the opportunity to make fresh inquiries of the new conductor; but thehorses were unharnessed, and others put in their places, without anyone claiming money from the traveller. Danglars, astonished, opened thedoor; but a strong hand pushed him back, and the carriage rolled on. Thebaron was completely roused. "Eh?" he said to the postilion, "eh, miocaro?"

This was another little piece of Italian the baron had learned fromhearing his daughter sing Italian duets with Cavalcanti. But mio carodid not reply. Danglars then opened the window.

"Come, my friend, " he said, thrusting his hand through the opening, "where are we going?"

"Dentro la testa!" answered a solemn and imperious voice, accompanied bya menacing gesture. Danglars thought dentro la testa meant, "Put in yourhead!" He was making rapid progress in Italian. He obeyed, not withoutsome uneasiness, which, momentarily increasing, caused his mind, insteadof being as unoccupied as it was when he began his journey, to fill withideas which were very likely to keep a traveller awake, more especiallyone in such a situation as Danglars. His eyes acquired that qualitywhich in the first moment of strong emotion enables them to seedistinctly, and which afterwards fails from being too much taxed. Beforewe are alarmed, we see correctly; when we are alarmed, we see double;and when we have been alarmed, we see nothing but trouble. Danglarsobserved a man in a cloak galloping at the right hand of the carriage.

"Some gendarme!" he exclaimed. "Can I have been intercepted by Frenchtelegrams to the pontifical authorities?" He resolved to end hisanxiety. "Where are you taking me?" he asked. "Dentro la testa, " repliedthe same voice, with the same menacing accent.

Danglars turned to the left; another man on horseback was gallopingon that side. "Decidedly, " said Danglars, with the perspiration on hisforehead, "I must be under arrest. " And he threw himself back in thecalash, not this time to sleep, but to think. Directly afterwards themoon rose. He then saw the great aqueducts, those stone phantoms whichhe had before remarked, only then they were on the right hand, now theywere on the left. He understood that they had described a circle, andwere bringing him back to Rome. "Oh, unfortunate!" he cried, "theymust have obtained my arrest. " The carriage continued to roll on withfrightful speed. An hour of terror elapsed, for every spot they passedshowed that they were on the road back. At length he saw a dark mass, against which it seemed as if the carriage was about to dash; but thevehicle turned to one side, leaving the barrier behind and Danglars sawthat it was one of the ramparts encircling Rome.

"Mon dieu!" cried Danglars, "we are not returning to Rome; then itis not justice which is pursuing me! Gracious heavens; another ideapresents itself--what if they should be"--

His hair stood on end. He remembered those interesting stories, solittle believed in Paris, respecting Roman bandits; he remembered theadventures that Albert de Morcerf had related when it was intended thathe should marry Mademoiselle Eugenie. "They are robbers, perhaps, " hemuttered. Just then the carriage rolled on something harder than gravelroad. Danglars hazarded a look on both sides of the road, and perceivedmonuments of a singular form, and his mind now recalled all the detailsMorcerf had related, and comparing them with his own situation, hefelt sure that he must be on the Appian Way. On the left, in a sort ofvalley, he perceived a circular excavation. It was Caracalla's circus. On a word from the man who rode at the side of the carriage, it stopped. At the same time the door was opened. "Scendi!" exclaimed a commandingvoice. Danglars instantly descended; although he did not yet speakItalian, he understood it very well. More dead than alive, he lookedaround him. Four men surrounded him, besides the postilion.

"Di qua, " said one of the men, descending a little path leading out ofthe Appian Way. Danglars followed his guide without opposition, andhad no occasion to turn around to see whether the three others werefollowing him. Still it appeared as though they were stationed at equaldistances from one another, like sentinels. After walking for about tenminutes, during which Danglars did not exchange a single word with hisguide, he found himself between a hillock and a clump of high weeds;three men, standing silent, formed a triangle, of which he was thecentre. He wished to speak, but his tongue refused to move. "Avanti!"said the same sharp and imperative voice.

This time Danglars had double reason to understand, for if the wordand gesture had not explained the speaker's meaning, it was clearlyexpressed by the man walking behind him, who pushed him so rudely thathe struck against the guide. This guide was our friend Peppino, whodashed into the thicket of high weeds, through a path which none butlizards or polecats could have imagined to be an open road. Peppinostopped before a pit overhung by thick hedges; the pit, half open, afforded a passage to the young man, who disappeared like the evilspirits in the fairy tales. The voice and gesture of the man whofollowed Danglars ordered him to do the same. There was no longerany doubt, the bankrupt was in the hands of Roman banditti. Danglarsacquitted himself like a man placed between two dangerous positions, and who is rendered brave by fear. Notwithstanding his large stomach, certainly not intended to penetrate the fissures of the Campagna, heslid down like Peppino, and closing his eyes fell upon his feet. As hetouched the ground, he opened his eyes. The path was wide, but dark. Peppino, who cared little for being recognized now that he was in hisown territories, struck a light and lit a torch. Two other men descendedafter Danglars forming the rearguard, and pushing Danglars whenever hehappened to stop, they came by a gentle declivity to the intersection oftwo corridors. The walls were hollowed out in sepulchres, one above theother, and which seemed in contrast with the white stones to open theirlarge dark eyes, like those which we see on the faces of the dead. Asentinel struck the rings of his carbine against his left hand. "Whocomes there?" he cried.

"A friend, a friend!" said Peppino; "but where is the captain?"

"There, " said the sentinel, pointing over his shoulder to a spaciouscrypt, hollowed out of the rock, the lights from which shone into thepassage through the large arched openings. "Fine spoil, captain, finespoil!" said Peppino in Italian, and taking Danglars by the collar ofhis coat he dragged him to an opening resembling a door, through whichthey entered the apartment which the captain appeared to have made hisdwelling-place.

"Is this the man?" asked the captain, who was attentively readingPlutarch's "Life of Alexander. "

"Himself, captain--himself. "

"Very well, show him to me. " At this rather impertinent order, Peppinoraised his torch to the face of Danglars, who hastily withdrew that hemight not have his eyelashes burnt. His agitated features presentedthe appearance of pale and hideous terror. "The man is tired, " said thecaptain, "conduct him to his bed. "

"Oh, " murmured Danglars, "that bed is probably one of the coffinshollowed in the wall, and the sleep I shall enjoy will be death from oneof the poniards I see glistening in the darkness. "

From their beds of dried leaves or wolf-skins at the back of the chambernow arose the companions of the man who had been found by Albert deMorcerf reading "Caesar's Commentaries, " and by Danglars studying the"Life of Alexander. " The banker uttered a groan and followed his guide;he neither supplicated nor exclaimed. He no longer possessed strength, will, power, or feeling; he followed where they led him. At length hefound himself at the foot of a staircase, and he mechanically liftedhis foot five or six times. Then a low door was opened before him, andbending his head to avoid striking his forehead he entered a small roomcut out of the rock. The cell was clean, though empty, and dry, thoughsituated at an immeasurable distance under the earth. A bed of driedgrass covered with goat-skins was placed in one corner. Danglarsbrightened up on beholding it, fancying that it gave some promise ofsafety. "Oh, God be praised, " he said; "it is a real bed!"

"Ecco!" said the guide, and pushing Danglars into the cell, he closedthe door upon him. A bolt grated and Danglars was a prisoner. If therehad been no bolt, it would have been impossible for him to pass throughthe midst of the garrison who held the catacombs of St. Sebastian, encamped round a master whom our readers must have recognized as thefamous Luigi Vampa. Danglars, too, had recognized the bandit, whoseexistence he would not believe when Albert de Morcerf mentioned him inParis; and not only did he recognize him, but the cell in which Alberthad been confined, and which was probably kept for the accommodationof strangers. These recollections were dwelt upon with some pleasureby Danglars, and restored him to some degree of tranquillity. Since thebandits had not despatched him at once, he felt that they would not killhim at all. They had arrested him for the purpose of robbery, and as hehad only a few louis about him, he doubted not he would be ransomed. He remembered that Morcerf had been taxed at 4, 000 crowns, and as heconsidered himself of much greater importance than Morcerf he fixedhis own price at 8, 000 crowns. Eight thousand crowns amounted to 48, 000livres; he would then have about 5, 050, 000 francs left. With this sum hecould manage to keep out of difficulties. Therefore, tolerably secure inbeing able to extricate himself from his position, provided he were notrated at the unreasonable sum of 5, 050, 000 francs, he stretched himselfon his bed, and after turning over two or three times, fell asleep withthe tranquillity of the hero whose life Luigi Vampa was studying.

Chapter 115. Luigi Vampa's Bill of Fare.

We awake from every sleep except the one dreaded by Danglars. He awoke. To a Parisian accustomed to silken curtains, walls hung with velvetdrapery, and the soft perfume of burning wood, the white smoke of whichdiffuses itself in graceful curves around the room, the appearance ofthe whitewashed cell which greeted his eyes on awakening seemed likethe continuation of some disagreeable dream. But in such a situationa single moment suffices to change the strongest doubt into certainty. "Yes, yes, " he murmured, "I am in the hands of the brigands of whomAlbert de Morcerf spoke. " His first idea was to breathe, that he mightknow whether he was wounded. He borrowed this from "Don Quixote, " theonly book he had ever read, but which he still slightly remembered.

"No, " he cried, "they have not wounded, but perhaps they have robbedme!" and he thrust his hands into his pockets. They were untouched; thehundred louis he had reserved for his journey from Rome to Venice werein his trousers pocket, and in that of his great-coat he found thelittle note-case containing his letter of credit for 5, 050, 000 francs. "Singular bandits!" he exclaimed; "they have left me my purse andpocket-book. As I was saying last night, they intend me to be ransomed. Hallo, here is my watch! Let me see what time it is. " Danglars' watch, one of Breguet's repeaters, which he had carefully wound up on theprevious night, struck half past five. Without this, Danglars would havebeen quite ignorant of the time, for daylight did not reach his cell. Should he demand an explanation from the bandits, or should he waitpatiently for them to propose it? The last alternative seemed the mostprudent, so he waited until twelve o'clock. During all this time asentinel, who had been relieved at eight o'clock, had been watching hisdoor. Danglars suddenly felt a strong inclination to see the person whokept watch over him. He had noticed that a few rays, not of daylight, but from a lamp, penetrated through the ill-joined planks of the door;he approached just as the brigand was refreshing himself with a mouthfulof brandy, which, owing to the leathern bottle containing it, sentforth an odor which was extremely unpleasant to Danglars. "Faugh!" heexclaimed, retreating to the farther corner of his cell.

At twelve this man was replaced by another functionary, and Danglars, wishing to catch sight of his new guardian, approached the door again. He was an athletic, gigantic bandit, with large eyes, thick lips, anda flat nose; his red hair fell in dishevelled masses like snakes aroundhis shoulders. "Ah, ha, " cried Danglars, "this fellow is more like anogre than anything else; however, I am rather too old and tough to bevery good eating!" We see that Danglars was collected enough to jest; atthe same time, as though to disprove the ogreish propensities, the mantook some black bread, cheese, and onions from his wallet, which hebegan devouring voraciously. "May I be hanged, " said Danglars, glancingat the bandit's dinner through the crevices of the door, --"may I behanged if I can understand how people can eat such filth!" and hewithdrew to seat himself upon his goat-skin, which reminded him of thesmell of the brandy.

But the mysteries of nature are incomprehensible, and there are certaininvitations contained in even the coarsest food which appeal veryirresistibly to a fasting stomach. Danglars felt his own not to be verywell supplied just then, and gradually the man appeared less ugly, thebread less black, and the cheese more fresh, while those dreadful vulgaronions recalled to his mind certain sauces and side-dishes, which hiscook prepared in a very superior manner whenever he said, "MonsieurDeniseau, let me have a nice little fricassee to-day. " He got up andknocked on the door; the bandit raised his head. Danglars knew thathe was heard, so he redoubled his blows. "Che cosa?" asked the bandit. "Come, come, " said Danglars, tapping his fingers against the door, "Ithink it is quite time to think of giving me something to eat!" Butwhether he did not understand him, or whether he had received no ordersrespecting the nourishment of Danglars, the giant, without answering, went on with his dinner. Danglars' feelings were hurt, and not wishingto put himself under obligations to the brute, the banker threw himselfdown again on his goat-skin and did not breathe another word.

Four hours passed by and the giant was replaced by another bandit. Danglars, who really began to experience sundry gnawings at the stomach, arose softly, again applied his eye to the crack of the door, andrecognized the intelligent countenance of his guide. It was, indeed, Peppino who was preparing to mount guard as comfortably as possible byseating himself opposite to the door, and placing between his legs anearthen pan, containing chick-pease stewed with bacon. Near the pan healso placed a pretty little basket of Villetri grapes and a flaskof Orvieto. Peppino was decidedly an epicure. Danglars watched thesepreparations and his mouth watered. "Come, " he said to himself, "let metry if he will be more tractable than the other;" and he tapped gentlyat the door. "On y va, " (coming) exclaimed Peppino, who from frequentingthe house of Signor Pastrini understood French perfectly in all itsidioms.

Danglars immediately recognized him as the man who had called out insuch a furious manner, "Put in your head!" But this was not the time forrecrimination, so he assumed his most agreeable manner and said with agracious smile, --"Excuse me, sir, but are they not going to give me anydinner?"

"Does your excellency happen to be hungry?"

"Happen to be hungry, --that's pretty good, when I haven't eaten fortwenty-four hours!" muttered Danglars. Then he added aloud, "Yes, sir, Iam hungry--very hungry. "

"What would your excellency like?" and Peppino placed his pan on theground, so that the steam rose directly under the nostrils of Danglars. "Give your orders. "

"Have you kitchens here?"

"Kitchens?--of course--complete ones. "

"And cooks?"

"Excellent!"

"Well, a fowl, fish, game, --it signifies little, so that I eat. "

"As your excellency pleases. You mentioned a fowl, I think?"

"Yes, a fowl. " Peppino, turning around, shouted, "A fowl for hisexcellency!" His voice yet echoed in the archway when a handsome, graceful, and half-naked young man appeared, bearing a fowl in a silverdish on his head, without the assistance of his hands. "I could almostbelieve myself at the Cafe de Paris, " murmured Danglars.

"Here, your excellency, " said Peppino, taking the fowl from the youngbandit and placing it on the worm-eaten table, which with the stooland the goat-skin bed formed the entire furniture of the cell. Danglarsasked for a knife and fork. "Here, excellency, " said Peppino, offeringhim a little blunt knife and a boxwood fork. Danglars took the knife inone hand and the fork in the other, and was about to cut up the fowl. "Pardon me, excellency, " said Peppino, placing his hand on the banker'sshoulder; "people pay here before they eat. They might not be satisfied, and"--

"Ah, ha, " thought Danglars, "this is not so much like Paris, except thatI shall probably be skinned! Never mind, I'll fix that all right. I havealways heard how cheap poultry is in Italy; I should think a fowl isworth about twelve sous at Rome. --There, " he said, throwing a louisdown. Peppino picked up the louis, and Danglars again prepared to carvethe fowl. "Stay a moment, your excellency, " said Peppino, rising; "youstill owe me something. "

"I said they would skin me, " thought Danglars; but resolving to resistthe extortion, he said, "Come, how much do I owe you for this fowl?"

"Your excellency has given me a louis on account. "

"A louis on account for a fowl?"

"Certainly; and your excellency now owes me 4, 999 louis. " Danglarsopened his enormous eyes on hearing this gigantic joke. "Come, come, this is very droll--very amusing--I allow; but, as I am very hungry, pray allow me to eat. Stay, here is another louis for you. "

"Then that will make only 4, 998 louis more, " said Peppino with the sameindifference. "I shall get them all in time. "

"Oh, as for that, " said Danglars, angry at this prolongation of thejest, --"as for that you won't get them at all. Go to the devil! You donot know with whom you have to deal!" Peppino made a sign, and the youthhastily removed the fowl. Danglars threw himself upon his goat-skin, and Peppino, reclosing the door, again began eating his pease and bacon. Though Danglars could not see Peppino, the noise of his teeth allowedno doubt as to his occupation. He was certainly eating, and noisily too, like an ill-bred man. "Brute!" said Danglars. Peppino pretended not tohear him, and without even turning his head continued to eat slowly. Danglars' stomach felt so empty, that it seemed as if it would beimpossible ever to fill it again; still he had patience for anotherhalf-hour, which appeared to him like a century. He again arose and wentto the door. "Come, sir, do not keep me starving here any longer, buttell me what they want. "

"Nay, your excellency, it is you who should tell us what you want. Giveyour orders, and we will execute them. "

"Then open the door directly. " Peppino obeyed. "Now look here, I wantsomething to eat! To eat--do you hear?"

"Are you hungry?"

"Come, you understand me. "

"What would your excellency like to eat?"

"A piece of dry bread, since the fowls are beyond all price in thisaccursed place. "

"Bread? Very well. Hallo, there, some bread!" he called. The youthbrought a small loaf. "How much?" asked Danglars.

"Four thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight louis, " said Peppino; "Youhave paid two louis in advance. "

"What? One hundred thousand francs for a loaf?"

"One hundred thousand francs, " repeated Peppino.

"But you only asked 100, 000 francs for a fowl!"

"We have a fixed price for all our provisions. It signifies nothingwhether you eat much or little--whether you have ten dishes or one--itis always the same price. "

"What, still keeping up this silly jest? My dear fellow, it is perfectlyridiculous--stupid! You had better tell me at once that you intendstarving me to death. "

"Oh, dear, no, your excellency, unless you intend to commit suicide. Payand eat. "

"And what am I to pay with, brute?" said Danglars, enraged. "Do yousuppose I carry 100, 000 francs in my pocket?"

"Your excellency has 5, 050, 000 francs in your pocket; that will be fiftyfowls at 100, 000 francs apiece, and half a fowl for the 50, 000. "

Danglars shuddered. The bandage fell from his eyes, and he understoodthe joke, which he did not think quite so stupid as he had done justbefore. "Come, " he said, "if I pay you the 100, 000 francs, will you besatisfied, and allow me to eat at my ease?"

"Certainly, " said Peppino.

"But how can I pay them?"

"Oh, nothing easier; you have an account open with Messrs. Thomson &French, Via dei Banchi, Rome; give me a draft for 4, 998 louis on thesegentlemen, and our banker shall take it. " Danglars thought it as wellto comply with a good grace, so he took the pen, ink, and paper Peppinooffered him, wrote the draft, and signed it. "Here, " he said, "here is adraft at sight. "

"And here is your fowl. " Danglars sighed while he carved the fowl;it appeared very thin for the price it had cost. As for Peppino, heexamined the paper attentively, put it into his pocket, and continuedeating his pease.

Chapter 116. The Pardon.

The next day Danglars was again hungry; certainly the air of thatdungeon was very provocative of appetite. The prisoner expected thathe would be at no expense that day, for like an economical man he hadconcealed half of his fowl and a piece of the bread in the corner of hiscell. But he had no sooner eaten than he felt thirsty; he had forgottenthat. He struggled against his thirst till his tongue clave to theroof of his mouth; then, no longer able to resist, he called out. Thesentinel opened the door; it was a new face. He thought it would bebetter to transact business with his old acquaintance, so he sent forPeppino. "Here I am, your excellency, " said Peppino, with an eagernesswhich Danglars thought favorable to him. "What do you want?"

"Something to drink. "

"Your excellency knows that wine is beyond all price near Rome. "

"Then give me water, " cried Danglars, endeavoring to parry the blow.

"Oh, water is even more scarce than wine, your excellency, --there hasbeen such a drought. "

"Come, " thought Danglars, "it is the same old story. " And while hesmiled as he attempted to regard the affair as a joke, he felt histemples get moist with perspiration.

"Come, my friend, " said Danglars, seeing that he made no impression onPeppino, "you will not refuse me a glass of wine?"

"I have already told you that we do not sell at retail. "

"Well, then, let me have a bottle of the least expensive. "

"They are all the same price. "

"And what is that?"

"Twenty-five thousand francs a bottle. "

"Tell me, " cried Danglars, in a tone whose bitterness Harpagon [*] alonehas been capable of revealing--"tell me that you wish to despoil me ofall; it will be sooner over than devouring me piecemeal. "



* The miser in Moliere's comedy of "L'Avare. "--Ed.

"It is possible such may be the master's intention. "

"The master?--who is he?"

"The person to whom you were conducted yesterday. "

"Where is he?"

"Here. "

"Let me see him. "

"Certainly. " And the next moment Luigi Vampa appeared before Danglars.

"You sent for me?" he said to the prisoner.

"Are you, sir, the chief of the people who brought me here?"

"Yes, your excellency. What then?"

"How much do you require for my ransom?"

"Merely the 5, 000, 000 you have about you. " Danglars felt a dreadfulspasm dart through his heart. "But this is all I have left in theworld, " he said, "out of an immense fortune. If you deprive me of that, take away my life also. "

"We are forbidden to shed your blood. "

"And by whom are you forbidden?"

"By him we obey. "

"You do, then, obey some one?"

"Yes, a chief. "

"I thought you said you were the chief?"

"So I am of these men; but there is another over me. "

"And did your superior order you to treat me in this way?"

"Yes. "

"But my purse will be exhausted. "

"Probably. "

"Come, " said Danglars, "will you take a million?"

"No. "

"Two millions?--three?--four? Come, four? I will give them to you oncondition that you let me go. "

"Why do you offer me 4, 000, 000 for what is worth 5, 000, 000? This is akind of usury, banker, that I do not understand. "

"Take all, then--take all, I tell you, and kill me!"

"Come, come, calm yourself. You will excite your blood, and that wouldproduce an appetite it would require a million a day to satisfy. Be moreeconomical. "

"But when I have no more money left to pay you?" asked the infuriatedDanglars.

"Then you must suffer hunger. "

"Suffer hunger?" said Danglars, becoming pale.

"Most likely, " replied Vampa coolly.

"But you say you do not wish to kill me?"

"No. "

"And yet you will let me perish with hunger?"

"Ah, that is a different thing. "

"Well, then, wretches, " cried Danglars, "I will defy your infamouscalculations--I would rather die at once! You may torture, torment, killme, but you shall not have my signature again!"

"As your excellency pleases, " said Vampa, as he left the cell. Danglars, raving, threw himself on the goat-skin. Who could these men be? Who wasthe invisible chief? What could be his intentions towards him? And why, when every one else was allowed to be ransomed, might he not also be?Oh, yes; certainly a speedy, violent death would be a fine means ofdeceiving these remorseless enemies, who appeared to pursue him withsuch incomprehensible vengeance. But to die? For the first time in hislife, Danglars contemplated death with a mixture of dread and desire;the time had come when the implacable spectre, which exists in the mindof every human creature, arrested his attention and called out withevery pulsation of his heart, "Thou shalt die!"

Danglars resembled a timid animal excited in the chase; first it flies, then despairs, and at last, by the very force of desperation, sometimessucceeds in eluding its pursuers. Danglars meditated an escape; but thewalls were solid rock, a man was sitting reading at the only outlet tothe cell, and behind that man shapes armed with guns continually passed. His resolution not to sign lasted two days, after which he offered amillion for some food. They sent him a magnificent supper, and took hismillion.

From this time the prisoner resolved to suffer no longer, but to haveeverything he wanted. At the end of twelve days, after having made asplendid dinner, he reckoned his accounts, and found that he had only50, 000 francs left. Then a strange reaction took place; he who had justabandoned 5, 000, 000 endeavored to save the 50, 000 francs he had left, and sooner than give them up he resolved to enter again upon a life ofprivation--he was deluded by the hopefulness that is a premonition ofmadness. He who for so long a time had forgotten God, began tothink that miracles were possible--that the accursed cavern might bediscovered by the officers of the Papal States, who would release him;that then he would have 50, 000 remaining, which would be sufficient tosave him from starvation; and finally he prayed that this sum mightbe preserved to him, and as he prayed he wept. Three days passed thus, during which his prayers were frequent, if not heartfelt. Sometimes hewas delirious, and fancied he saw an old man stretched on a pallet; he, also, was dying of hunger.

On the fourth, he was no longer a man, but a living corpse. He hadpicked up every crumb that had been left from his former meals, and wasbeginning to eat the matting which covered the floor of his cell. Thenhe entreated Peppino, as he would a guardian angel, to give him food;he offered him 1, 000 francs for a mouthful of bread. But Peppino did notanswer. On the fifth day he dragged himself to the door of the cell.

"Are you not a Christian?" he said, falling on his knees. "Do you wishto assassinate a man who, in the eyes of heaven, is a brother? Oh, myformer friends, my former friends!" he murmured, and fell with his faceto the ground. Then rising in despair, he exclaimed, "The chief, thechief!"

"Here I am, " said Vampa, instantly appearing; "what do you want?"

"Take my last gold, " muttered Danglars, holding out his pocket-book, "and let me live here; I ask no more for liberty--I only ask to live!"

"Then you suffer a great deal?"

"Oh, yes, yes, cruelly!"

"Still, there have been men who suffered more than you. "

"I do not think so. "

"Yes; those who have died of hunger. "

Danglars thought of the old man whom, in his hours of delirium, hehad seen groaning on his bed. He struck his forehead on the ground andgroaned. "Yes, " he said, "there have been some who have suffered morethan I have, but then they must have been martyrs at least. "

"Do you repent?" asked a deep, solemn voice, which caused Danglars' hairto stand on end. His feeble eyes endeavored to distinguish objects, andbehind the bandit he saw a man enveloped in a cloak, half lost in theshadow of a stone column.

"Of what must I repent?" stammered Danglars.

"Of the evil you have done, " said the voice.

"Oh, yes; oh, yes, I do indeed repent. " And he struck his breast withhis emaciated fist.

"Then I forgive you, " said the man, dropping his cloak, and advancing tothe light.

"The Count of Monte Cristo!" said Danglars, more pale from terror thanhe had been just before from hunger and misery.

"You are mistaken--I am not the Count of Monte Cristo. "

"Then who are you?"

"I am he whom you sold and dishonored--I am he whose betrothed youprostituted--I am he upon whom you trampled that you might raiseyourself to fortune--I am he whose father you condemned to die ofhunger--I am he whom you also condemned to starvation, and who yetforgives you, because he hopes to be forgiven--I am Edmond Dantes!"Danglars uttered a cry, and fell prostrate. "Rise, " said the count, "your life is safe; the same good fortune has not happened to youraccomplices--one is mad, the other dead. Keep the 50, 000 francs you haveleft--I give them to you. The 5, 000, 000 you stole from the hospitals hasbeen restored to them by an unknown hand. And now eat and drink; I willentertain you to-night. Vampa, when this man is satisfied, let him befree. " Danglars remained prostrate while the count withdrew; when heraised his head he saw disappearing down the passage nothing buta shadow, before which the bandits bowed. According to the count'sdirections, Danglars was waited on by Vampa, who brought him the bestwine and fruits of Italy; then, having conducted him to the road, andpointed to the post-chaise, left him leaning against a tree. He remainedthere all night, not knowing where he was. When daylight dawned he sawthat he was near a stream; he was thirsty, and dragged himself towardsit. As he stooped down to drink, he saw that his hair had becomeentirely white.

Chapter 117. The Fifth of October.

It was about six o'clock in the evening; an opal-colored light, throughwhich an autumnal sun shed its golden rays, descended on the blue ocean. The heat of the day had gradually decreased, and a light breeze arose, seeming like the respiration of nature on awakening from the burningsiesta of the south. A delicious zephyr played along the coasts ofthe Mediterranean, and wafted from shore to shore the sweet perfume ofplants, mingled with the fresh smell of the sea.

A light yacht, chaste and elegant in its form, was gliding amidst thefirst dews of night over the immense lake, extending from Gibraltar tothe Dardanelles, and from Tunis to Venice. The vessel resembled aswan with its wings opened towards the wind, gliding on the water. Itadvanced swiftly and gracefully, leaving behind it a glittering stretchof foam. By degrees the sun disappeared behind the western horizon; butas though to prove the truth of the fanciful ideas in heathen mythology, its indiscreet rays reappeared on the summit of every wave, as if thegod of fire had just sunk upon the bosom of Amphitrite, who in vainendeavored to hide her lover beneath her azure mantle. The yacht movedrapidly on, though there did not appear to be sufficient wind to rufflethe curls on the head of a young girl. Standing on the prow was a tallman, of a dark complexion, who saw with dilating eyes that they wereapproaching a dark mass of land in the shape of a cone, which rosefrom the midst of the waves like the hat of a Catalan. "Is that MonteCristo?" asked the traveller, to whose orders the yacht was for the timesubmitted, in a melancholy voice.

"Yes, your excellency, " said the captain, "we have reached it. "

"We have reached it!" repeated the traveller in an accent ofindescribable sadness. Then he added, in a low tone, "Yes; that is thehaven. " And then he again plunged into a train of thought, the characterof which was better revealed by a sad smile, than it would have been bytears. A few minutes afterwards a flash of light, which was extinguishedinstantly, was seen on the land, and the sound of firearms reached theyacht.

"Your excellency, " said the captain, "that was the land signal, will youanswer yourself?"

"What signal?" The captain pointed towards the island, up the side ofwhich ascended a volume of smoke, increasing as it rose. "Ah, yes, " hesaid, as if awaking from a dream. "Give it to me. "

The captain gave him a loaded carbine; the traveller slowly raised it, and fired in the air. Ten minutes afterwards, the sails were furled, andthey cast anchor about a hundred fathoms from the little harbor. Thegig was already lowered, and in it were four oarsmen and a coxswain. The traveller descended, and instead of sitting down at the stern of theboat, which had been decorated with a blue carpet for his accommodation, stood up with his arms crossed. The rowers waited, their oars halflifted out of the water, like birds drying their wings.

"Give way, " said the traveller. The eight oars fell into the seasimultaneously without splashing a drop of water, and the boat, yieldingto the impulsion, glided forward. In an instant they found themselvesin a little harbor, formed in a natural creek; the boat grounded on thefine sand.

"Will your excellency be so good as to mount the shoulders of two of ourmen, they will carry you ashore?" The young man answered this invitationwith a gesture of indifference, and stepped out of the boat; the seaimmediately rose to his waist. "Ah, your excellency, " murmured thepilot, "you should not have done so; our master will scold us for it. "The young man continued to advance, following the sailors, who chosea firm footing. Thirty strides brought them to dry land; the young manstamped on the ground to shake off the wet, and looked around for someone to show him his road, for it was quite dark. Just as he turned, a hand rested on his shoulder, and a voice which made him shudderexclaimed, --"Good-evening, Maximilian; you are punctual, thank you!"

"Ah, is it you, count?" said the young man, in an almost joyful accent, pressing Monte Cristo's hand with both his own.

"Yes; you see I am as exact as you are. But you are dripping, my dearfellow; you must change your clothes, as Calypso said to Telemachus. Come, I have a habitation prepared for you in which you will soon forgetfatigue and cold. " Monte Cristo perceived that the young man had turnedaround; indeed, Morrel saw with surprise that the men who had broughthim had left without being paid, or uttering a word. Already the soundof their oars might be heard as they returned to the yacht.

"Oh, yes, " said the count, "you are looking for the sailors. "

"Yes, I paid them nothing, and yet they are gone. "

"Never mind that, Maximilian, " said Monte Cristo, smiling. "I have madean agreement with the navy, that the access to my island shall be freeof all charge. I have made a bargain. " Morrel looked at the count withsurprise. "Count, " he said, "you are not the same here as in Paris. "

"How so?"

"Here you laugh. " The count's brow became clouded. "You are right torecall me to myself, Maximilian, " he said; "I was delighted to see youagain, and forgot for the moment that all happiness is fleeting. "

"Oh, no, no, count, " cried Maximilian, seizing the count's hands, "praylaugh; be happy, and prove to me, by your indifference, that life isendurable to sufferers. Oh, how charitable, kind, and good you are; youaffect this gayety to inspire me with courage. "

"You are wrong, Morrel; I was really happy. "

"Then you forget me, so much the better. "

"How so?"

"Yes; for as the gladiator said to the emperor, when he entered thearena, 'He who is about to die salutes you. '"

"Then you are not consoled?" asked the count, surprised.

"Oh, " exclaimed Morrel, with a glance full of bitter reproach, "do youthink it possible that I could be?"

"Listen, " said the count. "Do you understand the meaning of my words?You cannot take me for a commonplace man, a mere rattle, emitting avague and senseless noise. When I ask you if you are consoled, I speakto you as a man for whom the human heart has no secrets. Well, Morrel, let us both examine the depths of your heart. Do you still feel the samefeverish impatience of grief which made you start like a wounded lion?Have you still that devouring thirst which can only be appeased in thegrave? Are you still actuated by the regret which drags the living tothe pursuit of death; or are you only suffering from the prostrationof fatigue and the weariness of hope deferred? Has the loss of memoryrendered it impossible for you to weep? Oh, my dear friend, if this bethe case, --if you can no longer weep, if your frozen heart be dead, ifyou put all your trust in God, then, Maximilian, you are consoled--donot complain. "

"Count, " said Morrel, in a firm and at the same time soft voice, "listento me, as to a man whose thoughts are raised to heaven, though heremains on earth; I come to die in the arms of a friend. Certainly, there are people whom I love. I love my sister Julie, --I love herhusband Emmanuel; but I require a strong mind to smile on my lastmoments. My sister would be bathed in tears and fainting; I could notbear to see her suffer. Emmanuel would tear the weapon from my hand, andalarm the house with his cries. You, count, who are more than mortal, will, I am sure, lead me to death by a pleasant path, will you not?"

"My friend, " said the count, "I have still one doubt, --are you weakenough to pride yourself upon your sufferings?"

"No, indeed, --I am calm, " said Morrel, giving his hand to the count; "mypulse does not beat slower or faster than usual. No, I feel that I havereached the goal, and I will go no farther. You told me to wait andhope; do you know what you did, unfortunate adviser? I waited a month, or rather I suffered for a month! I did hope (man is a poor wretchedcreature), I did hope. What I cannot tell, --something wonderful, anabsurdity, a miracle, --of what nature he alone can tell who has mingledwith our reason that folly we call hope. Yes, I did wait--yes, I didhope, count, and during this quarter of an hour we have been talkingtogether, you have unconsciously wounded, tortured my heart, for everyword you have uttered proved that there was no hope for me. Oh, count, I shall sleep calmly, deliciously in the arms of death. " Morrel utteredthese words with an energy which made the count shudder. "My friend, "continued Morrel, "you named the fifth of October as the end of theperiod of waiting, --to-day is the fifth of October, " he took out hiswatch, "it is now nine o'clock, --I have yet three hours to live. "

"Be it so, " said the count, "come. " Morrel mechanically followed thecount, and they had entered the grotto before he perceived it. He felta carpet under his feet, a door opened, perfumes surrounded him, anda brilliant light dazzled his eyes. Morrel hesitated to advance; hedreaded the enervating effect of all that he saw. Monte Cristo drew himin gently. "Why should we not spend the last three hours remaining tous of life, like those ancient Romans, who when condemned by Nero, theiremperor and heir, sat down at a table covered with flowers, and gentlyglided into death, amid the perfume of heliotropes and roses?" Morrelsmiled. "As you please, " he said; "death is always death, --that isforgetfulness, repose, exclusion from life, and therefore from grief. "He sat down, and Monte Cristo placed himself opposite to him. They werein the marvellous dining-room before described, where the statues hadbaskets on their heads always filled with fruits and flowers. Morrel hadlooked carelessly around, and had probably noticed nothing.

"Let us talk like men, " he said, looking at the count.

"Go on!"

"Count, " said Morrel, "you are the epitome of all human knowledge, andyou seem like a being descended from a wiser and more advanced worldthan ours. "

"There is something true in what you say, " said the count, with thatsmile which made him so handsome; "I have descended from a planet calledgrief. "

"I believe all you tell me without questioning its meaning; forinstance, you told me to live, and I did live; you told me to hope, and I almost did so. I am almost inclined to ask you, as though you hadexperienced death, 'is it painful to die?'"

Monte Cristo looked upon Morrel with indescribable tenderness. "Yes, "he said, "yes, doubtless it is painful, if you violently break the outercovering which obstinately begs for life. If you plunge a dagger intoyour flesh, if you insinuate a bullet into your brain, which the leastshock disorders, --then certainly, you will suffer pain, and you willrepent quitting a life for a repose you have bought at so dear a price. "

"Yes; I know that there is a secret of luxury and pain in death, as wellas in life; the only thing is to understand it. "

"You have spoken truly, Maximilian; according to the care we bestow uponit, death is either a friend who rocks us gently as a nurse, or an enemywho violently drags the soul from the body. Some day, when the worldis much older, and when mankind will be masters of all the destructivepowers in nature, to serve for the general good of humanity; whenmankind, as you were just saying, have discovered the secrets of death, then that death will become as sweet and voluptuous as a slumber in thearms of your beloved. "

"And if you wished to die, you would choose this death, count?"

"Yes. "

Morrel extended his hand. "Now I understand, " he said, "why you had mebrought here to this desolate spot, in the midst of the ocean, to thissubterranean palace; it was because you loved me, was it not, count? Itwas because you loved me well enough to give me one of those sweet meansof death of which we were speaking; a death without agony, a death whichallows me to fade away while pronouncing Valentine's name and pressingyour hand. "

"Yes, you have guessed rightly, Morrel, " said the count, "that is what Iintended. "

"Thanks; the idea that tomorrow I shall no longer suffer, is sweet to myheart. "

"Do you then regret nothing?"

"No, " replied Morrel.

"Not even me?" asked the count with deep emotion. Morrel's clear eye wasfor the moment clouded, then it shone with unusual lustre, and a largetear rolled down his cheek.

"What, " said the count, "do you still regret anything in the world, andyet die?"

"Oh, I entreat you, " exclaimed Morrel in a low voice, "do not speakanother word, count; do not prolong my punishment. " The count fanciedthat he was yielding, and this belief revived the horrible doubt thathad overwhelmed him at the Chateau d'If. "I am endeavoring, " he thought, "to make this man happy; I look upon this restitution as a weight throwninto the scale to balance the evil I have wrought. Now, supposing Iam deceived, supposing this man has not been unhappy enough to merithappiness. Alas, what would become of me who can only atone for evil bydoing good?" Then he said aloud: "Listen, Morrel, I see your griefis great, but still you do not like to risk your soul. " Morrel smiledsadly. "Count, " he said, "I swear to you my soul is no longer my own. "

"Maximilian, you know I have no relation in the world. I have accustomedmyself to regard you as my son: well, then, to save my son, I willsacrifice my life, nay, even my fortune. "

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, that you wish to quit life because you do not understandall the enjoyments which are the fruits of a large fortune. Morrel, Ipossess nearly a hundred millions and I give them to you; with such afortune you can attain every wish. Are you ambitious? Every career isopen to you. Overturn the world, change its character, yield to madideas, be even criminal--but live. "

"Count, I have your word, " said Morrel coldly; then taking out hiswatch, he added, "It is half-past eleven. "

"Morrel, can you intend it in my house, under my very eyes?"

"Then let me go, " said Maximilian, "or I shall think you did not love mefor my own sake, but for yours;" and he arose.

"It is well, " said Monte Cristo whose countenance brightened at thesewords; "you wish--you are inflexible. Yes, as you said, you are indeedwretched and a miracle alone can cure you. Sit down, Morrel, and wait. "

Morrel obeyed; the count arose, and unlocking a closet with a keysuspended from his gold chain, took from it a little silver casket, beautifully carved and chased, the corners of which represented fourbending figures, similar to the Caryatides, the forms of women, symbolsof the angels aspiring to heaven. He placed the casket on the table;then opening it took out a little golden box, the top of which flewopen when touched by a secret spring. This box contained an unctuoussubstance partly solid, of which it was impossible to discover thecolor, owing to the reflection of the polished gold, sapphires, rubies, emeralds, which ornamented the box. It was a mixed mass of blue, red, and gold. The count took out a small quantity of this with a gilt spoon, and offered it to Morrel, fixing a long steadfast glance upon him. Itwas then observable that the substance was greenish.

"This is what you asked for, " he said, "and what I promised to giveyou. "

"I thank you from the depths of my heart, " said the young man, takingthe spoon from the hands of Monte Cristo. The count took another spoon, and again dipped it into the golden box. "What are you going to do, myfriend?" asked Morrel, arresting his hand.

"Well, the fact is, Morrel, I was thinking that I too am weary of life, and since an opportunity presents itself"--

"Stay!" said the young man. "You who love, and are beloved; you, whohave faith and hope, --oh, do not follow my example. In your case itwould be a crime. Adieu, my noble and generous friend, adieu; I willgo and tell Valentine what you have done for me. " And slowly, thoughwithout any hesitation, only waiting to press the count's handfervently, he swallowed the mysterious substance offered by MonteCristo. Then they were both silent. Ali, mute and attentive, brought thepipes and coffee, and disappeared. By degrees, the light of the lampsgradually faded in the hands of the marble statues which held them, andthe perfumes appeared less powerful to Morrel. Seated opposite to him, Monte Cristo watched him in the shadow, and Morrel saw nothing but thebright eyes of the count. An overpowering sadness took possession ofthe young man, his hands relaxed their hold, the objects in the roomgradually lost their form and color, and his disturbed vision seemed toperceive doors and curtains open in the walls.

"Friend, " he cried, "I feel that I am dying; thanks!" He made a lasteffort to extend his hand, but it fell powerless beside him. Then itappeared to him that Monte Cristo smiled, not with the strange andfearful expression which had sometimes revealed to him the secrets ofhis heart, but with the benevolent kindness of a father for a child. At the same time the count appeared to increase in stature, his form, nearly double its usual height, stood out in relief against the redtapestry, his black hair was thrown back, and he stood in the attitudeof an avenging angel. Morrel, overpowered, turned around in thearm-chair; a delicious torpor permeated every vein. A change ofideas presented themselves to his brain, like a new design onthe kaleidoscope. Enervated, prostrate, and breathless, he becameunconscious of outward objects; he seemed to be entering that vaguedelirium preceding death. He wished once again to press the count'shand, but his own was immovable. He wished to articulate a lastfarewell, but his tongue lay motionless and heavy in his throat, likea stone at the mouth of a sepulchre. Involuntarily his languid eyesclosed, and still through his eyelashes a well-known form seemed to moveamid the obscurity with which he thought himself enveloped.

The count had just opened a door. Immediately a brilliant light from thenext room, or rather from the palace adjoining, shone upon the room inwhich he was gently gliding into his last sleep. Then he saw a woman ofmarvellous beauty appear on the threshold of the door separating thetwo rooms. Pale, and sweetly smiling, she looked like an angel of mercyconjuring the angel of vengeance. "Is it heaven that opens before me?"thought the dying man; "that angel resembles the one I have lost. " MonteCristo pointed out Morrel to the young woman, who advanced towards himwith clasped hands and a smile upon her lips.

"Valentine, Valentine!" he mentally ejaculated; but his lips utteredno sound, and as though all his strength were centred in that internalemotion, he sighed and closed his eyes. Valentine rushed towards him;his lips again moved.

"He is calling you, " said the count; "he to whom you have confided yourdestiny--he from whom death would have separated you, calls you to him. Happily, I vanquished death. Henceforth, Valentine, you will neveragain be separated on earth, since he has rushed into death to find you. Without me, you would both have died. May God accept my atonement in thepreservation of these two existences!"

Valentine seized the count's hand, and in her irresistible impulse ofjoy carried it to her lips.

"Oh, thank me again!" said the count; "tell me till you are weary, thatI have restored you to happiness; you do not know how much I requirethis assurance. "

"Oh, yes, yes, I thank you with all my heart, " said Valentine; "and ifyou doubt the sincerity of my gratitude, oh, then, ask Haidee! ask mybeloved sister Haidee, who ever since our departure from France, hascaused me to wait patiently for this happy day, while talking to me ofyou. "

"You then love Haidee?" asked Monte Cristo with an emotion he in vainendeavored to dissimulate.

"Oh, yes, with all my soul. "

"Well, then, listen, Valentine, " said the count; "I have a favor to askof you. "

"Of me? Oh, am I happy enough for that?"

"Yes; you have called Haidee your sister, --let her become so indeed, Valentine; render her all the gratitude you fancy that you owe to me;protect her, for" (the count's voice was thick with emotion) "henceforthshe will be alone in the world. "

"Alone in the world!" repeated a voice behind the count, "and why?"

Monte Cristo turned around; Haidee was standing pale, motionless, looking at the count with an expression of fearful amazement.

"Because to-morrow, Haidee, you will be free; you will then assumeyour proper position in society, for I will not allow my destiny toovershadow yours. Daughter of a prince, I restore to you the riches andname of your father. "

Haidee became pale, and lifting her transparent hands to heaven, exclaimed in a voice stifled with tears, "Then you leave me, my lord?"

"Haidee, Haidee, you are young and beautiful; forget even my name, andbe happy. "

"It is well, " said Haidee; "your order shall be executed, my lord;I will forget even your name, and be happy. " And she stepped back toretire.

"Oh, heavens, " exclaimed Valentine, who was supporting the head ofMorrel on her shoulder, "do you not see how pale she is? Do you not seehow she suffers?"

Haidee answered with a heartrending expression, "Why should heunderstand this, my sister? He is my master, and I am his slave; he hasthe right to notice nothing. "

The count shuddered at the tones of a voice which penetrated the inmostrecesses of his heart; his eyes met those of the young girl and he couldnot bear their brilliancy. "Oh, heavens, " exclaimed Monte Cristo, "canmy suspicions be correct? Haidee, would it please you not to leave me?"

"I am young, " gently replied Haidee; "I love the life you have made sosweet to me, and I should be sorry to die. "

"You mean, then, that if I leave you, Haidee"--

"I should die; yes, my lord. "

"Do you then love me?"

"Oh, Valentine, he asks if I love him. Valentine, tell him if you loveMaximilian. " The count felt his heart dilate and throb; he opened hisarms, and Haidee, uttering a cry, sprang into them. "Oh, yes, " shecried, "I do love you! I love you as one loves a father, brother, husband! I love you as my life, for you are the best, the noblest ofcreated beings!"

"Let it be, then, as you wish, sweet angel; God has sustained me in mystruggle with my enemies, and has given me this reward; he will not letme end my triumph in suffering; I wished to punish myself, but he haspardoned me. Love me then, Haidee! Who knows? perhaps your love willmake me forget all that I do not wish to remember. "

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"I mean that one word from you has enlightened me more than twenty yearsof slow experience; I have but you in the world, Haidee; through youI again take hold on life, through you I shall suffer, through yourejoice. "

"Do you hear him, Valentine?" exclaimed Haidee; "he says that through mehe will suffer--through me, who would yield my life for his. " The countwithdrew for a moment. "Have I discovered the truth?" he said; "butwhether it be for recompense or punishment, I accept my fate. Come, Haidee, come!" and throwing his arm around the young girl's waist, hepressed the hand of Valentine, and disappeared.

An hour had nearly passed, during which Valentine, breathless andmotionless, watched steadfastly over Morrel. At length she felt hisheart beat, a faint breath played upon his lips, a slight shudder, announcing the return of life, passed through the young man's frame. Atlength his eyes opened, but they were at first fixed and expressionless;then sight returned, and with it feeling and grief. "Oh, " he cried, inan accent of despair, "the count has deceived me; I am yet living;" andextending his hand towards the table, he seized a knife.

"Dearest, " exclaimed Valentine, with her adorable smile, "awake, andlook at me!" Morrel uttered a loud exclamation, and frantic, doubtful, dazzled, as though by a celestial vision, he fell upon his knees.

The next morning at daybreak, Valentine and Morrel were walkingarm-in-arm on the sea-shore, Valentine relating how Monte Cristo hadappeared in her room, explained everything, revealed the crime, and, finally, how he had saved her life by enabling her to simulate death. They had found the door of the grotto opened, and gone forth; on theazure dome of heaven still glittered a few remaining stars. Morrel soonperceived a man standing among the rocks, apparently awaiting a signfrom them to advance, and pointed him out to Valentine. "Ah, it isJacopo, " she said, "the captain of the yacht;" and she beckoned himtowards them.

"Do you wish to speak to us?" asked Morrel.

"I have a letter to give you from the count. "

"From the count!" murmured the two young people.

"Yes; read it. " Morrel opened the letter, and read:--

"My Dear Maximilian, --

"There is a felucca for you at anchor. Jacopo will carry you to Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier awaits his granddaughter, whom he wishes tobless before you lead her to the altar. All that is in this grotto, myfriend, my house in the Champs Elysees, and my chateau at Treport, arethe marriage gifts bestowed by Edmond Dantes upon the son of his oldmaster, Morrel. Mademoiselle de Villefort will share them with you; forI entreat her to give to the poor the immense fortune reverting to herfrom her father, now a madman, and her brother who died last Septemberwith his mother. Tell the angel who will watch over your future destiny, Morrel, to pray sometimes for a man, who like Satan thought himselffor an instant equal to God, but who now acknowledges with Christianhumility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite wisdom. Perhaps those prayers may soften the remorse he feels in his heart. Asfor you, Morrel, this is the secret of my conduct towards you. There isneither happiness nor misery in the world; there is only the comparisonof one state with another, nothing more. He who has felt the deepestgrief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have feltwhat it is to die, Morrel, that we may appreciate the enjoyments ofliving.

"Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and neverforget that until the day when God shall deign to reveal the futureto man, all human wisdom is summed up in these two words, --'_Wait andhope_. '--Your friend, "Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte Cristo. "

During the perusal of this letter, which informed Valentine for thefirst time of the madness of her father and the death of her brother, she became pale, a heavy sigh escaped from her bosom, and tears, notthe less painful because they were silent, ran down her cheeks; herhappiness cost her very dear. Morrel looked around uneasily. "But, " hesaid, "the count's generosity is too overwhelming; Valentine will besatisfied with my humble fortune. Where is the count, friend? Lead meto him. " Jacopo pointed towards the horizon. "What do you mean?" askedValentine. "Where is the count?--where is Haidee?"

"Look!" said Jacopo.

The eyes of both were fixed upon the spot indicated by the sailor, andon the blue line separating the sky from the Mediterranean Sea, theyperceived a large white sail. "Gone, " said Morrel; "gone!--adieu, myfriend--adieu, my father!"

"Gone, " murmured Valentine; "adieu, my sweet Haidee--adieu, my sister!"

"Who can say whether we shall ever see them again?" said Morrel withtearful eyes.

"Darling, " replied Valentine, "has not the count just told us that allhuman wisdom is summed up in two words?--'_Wait and hope_. '"