English
InaveryfewminutesthecountreachedNo.7intheRueMeslay.
Thehousewasofwhitestone,andinasmallcourtbeforeitweretwosmallbedsfullofbeautifulflowers.
IntheconciergethatopenedthegatethecountrecognizedCocles;butashehadbutoneeye,andthateyehadbecomesomewhatdiminthecourseofnineyears,Coclesdidnotrecognizethecount.
Thecarriagesthatdroveuptothedoorwerecompelledtoturn,toavoidafountainthatplayedinabasinofrockwork,—anornamentthathadexcitedthejealousyofthewholequarter,andhadgainedfortheplacetheappellationof“TheLittleVersailles.”
Itisneedlesstoaddthatthereweregoldandsilverfishinthebasin.
Thehouse,withkitchensandcellarsbelow,hadabovetheground–floor,twostoriesandattics.
Thewholeoftheproperty,consistingofanimmenseworkshop,twopavilionsatthebottomofthegarden,andthegardenitself,hadbeenpurchasedbyEmmanuel,whohadseenataglancethathecouldmakeofitaprofitablespeculation.
Hehadreservedthehouseandhalfthegarden,andbuildingawallbetweenthegardenandtheworkshops,hadletthemuponleasewiththepavilionsatthebottomofthegarden.
Sothatforatriflingsumhewasaswelllodged,andasperfectlyshutoutfromobservation,astheinhabitantsofthefinestmansionintheFaubourgSt.Germain.
Thebreakfast–roomwasfinishedinoak;thesaloninmahogany,andthefurnishingswereofbluevelvet;thebedroomwasincitronwoodandgreendamask.
TherewasastudyforEmmanuel,whoneverstudied,andamusic–roomforJulie,whoneverplayed.
ThewholeofthesecondstorywassetapartforMaximilian;itwaspreciselysimilartohissister’sapartments,exceptthatforthebreakfast–parlorhehadabilliard–room,wherehereceivedhisfriends.
Hewassuperintendingthegroomingofhishorse,andsmokinghiscigarattheentranceofthegarden,whenthecount’scarriagestoppedatthegate.
Coclesopenedthegate,andBaptistin,springingfromthebox,inquiredwhetherMonsieurandMadameHerbaultandMonsieurMaximilianMorrelwouldseehisexcellencytheCountofMonteCristo.“TheCountofMonteCristo?”
criedMorrel,throwingawayhiscigarandhasteningtothecarriage;“Ishouldthinkwewouldseehim.
Ah,athousandthanks,count,fornothavingforgottenyourpromise.”
Andtheyoungofficershookthecount’shandsowarmly,thatMonteCristocouldnotbemistakenastothesincerityofhisjoy,andhesawthathehadbeenexpectedwithimpatience,andwasreceivedwithpleasure.
“Come,come,”saidMaximilian,“Iwillserveasyourguide;suchamanasyouareoughtnottobeintroducedbyaservant.
Mysisterisinthegardenpluckingthedeadroses;mybrotherisreadinghistwopapers,thePresseandtheDebats,withinsixstepsofher;forwhereveryouseeMadameHerbault,youhaveonlytolookwithinacircleoffouryardsandyouwillfindM.Emmanuel,and‘reciprocally,’astheysayatthePolytechnicSchool.”
Atthesoundoftheirstepsayoungwomanoftwentytofiveandtwenty,dressedinasilkmorninggown,andbusilyengagedinpluckingthedeadleavesoffanoisetterose–tree,raisedherhead.
ThiswasJulie,whohadbecome,astheclerkofthehouseofThomson&Frenchhadpredicted,MadameEmmanuelHerbault.
Sheutteredacryofsurpriseatthesightofastranger,andMaximilianbegantolaugh.
“Don’tdisturbyourself,Julie,”saidhe.
“ThecounthasonlybeentwoorthreedaysinParis,buthealreadyknowswhatafashionablewomanoftheMaraisis,andifhedoesnot,youwillshowhim.”
“Ah,monsieur,”returnedJulie,“itistreasoninmybrothertobringyouthus,butheneverhasanyregardforhispoorsister.Penelon,Penelon!”
Anoldman,whowasdiggingbusilyatoneofthebeds,stuckhisspadeintheearth,andapproached,capinhand,strivingtoconcealaquidoftobaccohehadjustthrustintohischeek.
Afewlocksofgraymingledwithhishair,whichwasstillthickandmatted,whilehisbronzedfeaturesanddeterminedglancewellsuitedanoldsailorwhohadbravedtheheatoftheequatorandthestormsofthetropics.
“Ithinkyouhailedme,MademoiselleJulie?”saidhe.
Penelonhadstillpreservedthehabitofcallinghismaster’sdaughter“MademoiselleJulie,”andhadneverbeenabletochangethenametoMadameHerbault.
“Penelon,”repliedJulie,“goandinformM.Emmanuelofthisgentleman’svisit,andMaximilianwillconducthimtothesalon.”
Then,turningtoMonteCristo,—”Ihopeyouwillpermitmetoleaveyouforafewminutes,”continuedshe;andwithoutawaitinganyreply,disappearedbehindaclumpoftrees,andescapedtothehousebyalateralalley.
“Iamsorrytosee,”observedMonteCristotoMorrel,“thatIcausenosmalldisturbanceinyourhouse.”
“Lookthere,”saidMaximilian,laughing;“thereisherhusbandchanginghisjacketforacoat.Iassureyou,youarewellknownintheRueMeslay.”
“Yourfamilyappearstobeaveryhappyone,”saidthecount,asifspeakingtohimself.
“Oh,yes,Iassureyou,count,theywantnothingthatcanrenderthemhappy;theyareyoungandcheerful,theyaretenderlyattachedtoeachother,andwithtwenty–fivethousandfrancsayeartheyfancythemselvesasrichasRothschild.”
“Fiveandtwentythousandfrancsisnotalargesum,however,”repliedMonteCristo,withatonesosweetandgentle,thatitwenttoMaximilian’sheartlikethevoiceofafather;“buttheywillnotbecontentwiththat.Yourbrother–in–lawisabarrister?adoctor?”
“Hewasamerchant,monsieur,andhadsucceededtothebusinessofmypoorfather.
M.Morrel,athisdeath,left500,000francs,whichweredividedbetweenmysisterandmyself,forwewerehisonlychildren.
Herhusband,who,whenhemarriedher,hadnootherpatrimonythanhisnobleprobity,hisfirst–rateability,andhisspotlessreputation,wishedtopossessasmuchashiswife.
Helaboredandtoileduntilhehadamassed250,000francs;sixyearssufficedtoachievethisobject.
Oh,Iassureyou,sir,itwasatouchingspectacletoseetheseyoungcreatures,destinedbytheirtalentsforhigherstations,toilingtogether,andthroughtheirunwillingnesstochangeanyofthecustomsoftheirpaternalhouse,takingsixyearstoaccomplishwhatlessscrupulouspeoplewouldhaveeffectedintwoorthree.
Marseillesresoundedwiththeirwell–earnedpraises.
Atlast,oneday,Emmanuelcametohiswife,whohadjustfinishedmakinguptheaccounts.
‘Julie,’saidhetoher,‘Cocleshasjustgivenmethelastrouleauofahundredfrancs;thatcompletesthe250,000francswehadfixedasthelimitsofourgains.
Canyoucontentyourselfwiththesmallfortunewhichweshallpossessforthefuture?Listentome.
Ourhousetransactsbusinesstotheamountofamillionayear,fromwhichwederiveanincomeof40,000francs.
Wecandisposeofthebusiness,ifweplease,inanhour,forIhavereceivedaletterfromM.Delaunay,inwhichheofferstopurchasethegood–willofthehouse,tounitewithhisown,for300,000francs.AdvisemewhatIhadbetterdo.’
—’Emmanuel,’returnedmysister,‘thehouseofMorrelcanonlybecarriedonbyaMorrel.
Isitnotworth300,000francstosaveourfather’snamefromthechancesofevilfortuneandfailure?’
—’Ithoughtso,’repliedEmmanuel;‘butIwishedtohaveyouradvice.’
—’Thisismycounsel:—Ouraccountsaremadeupandourbillspaid;allwehavetodoistostoptheissueofanymore,andcloseouroffice.’Thiswasdoneinstantly.
Itwasthreeo’clock;ataquarterpast,amerchantpresentedhimselftoinsuretwoships;itwasaclearprofitof15,000.francs.
‘Monsieur,’saidEmmanuel,‘havethegoodnesstoaddressyourselftoM.Delaunay.Wehavequittedbusiness.’—’Howlong?’inquiredtheastonishedmerchant.‘Aquarterofanhour,’wasthereply.
Andthisisthereason,monsieur,”continuedMaximilian,“ofmysisterandbrother–in–lawhavingonly25,000francsayear.”
Maximilianhadscarcelyfinishedhisstory,duringwhichthecount’shearthadswelledwithinhim,whenEmmanuelenteredwearingahatandcoat.
Hesalutedthecountwiththeairofamanwhoisawareoftherankofhisguest;then,afterhavingledMonteCristoaroundthelittlegarden,hereturnedtothehouse.
AlargevaseofJapanporcelain,filledwithflowersthatloadedtheairwiththeirperfume,stoodinthesalon.
Julie,suitablydressed,andherhairarranged(shehadaccomplishedthisfeatinlessthantenminutes),receivedthecountonhisentrance.
Thesongsofthebirdswereheardinanaviaryhardby,andthebranchesoflaburnumsandroseacaciasformedanexquisiteframeworktothebluevelvetcurtains.
Everythinginthischarmingretreat,fromthewarbleofthebirdstothesmileofthemistress,breathedtranquillityandrepose.
Thecounthadfelttheinfluenceofthishappinessfromthemomentheenteredthehouse,andheremainedsilentandpensive,forgettingthathewasexpectedtorenewtheconversation,whichhadceasedafterthefirstsalutationshadbeenexchanged.
Thesilencebecamealmostpainfulwhen,byaviolenteffort,tearinghimselffromhispleasingreverie—”Madame,”saidheatlength,“Iprayyoutoexcusemyemotion,whichmustastonishyouwhoareonlyaccustomedtothehappinessImeethere;butcontentmentissonewasighttome,thatIcouldneverbewearyoflookingatyourselfandyourhusband.”
“Weareveryhappy,monsieur,”repliedJulie;“butwehavealsoknownunhappiness,andfewhaveeverundergonemorebittersufferingsthanourselves.”
TheCount’sfeaturesdisplayedanexpressionofthemostintensecuriosity.
“Oh,allthisisafamilyhistory,asChateau–Renaudtoldyoutheotherday,”observedMaximilian.
“Thishumblepicturewouldhavebutlittleinterestforyou,accustomedasyouaretobeholdthepleasuresandthemisfortunesofthewealthyandindustrious;butsuchasweare,wehaveexperiencedbittersorrows.”
“AndGodhaspouredbalmintoyourwounds,ashedoesintothoseofallwhoareinaffliction?”saidMonteCristoinquiringly.
“Yes,count,”returnedJulie,“wemayindeedsayhehas,forhehasdoneforuswhathegrantsonlytohischosen;hesentusoneofhisangels.”
Thecount’scheeksbecamescarlet,andhecoughed,inordertohaveanexcuseforputtinghishandkerchieftohismouth.
“Thoseborntowealth,andwhohavethemeansofgratifyingeverywish,”saidEmmanuel,“knownotwhatistherealhappinessoflife,justasthosewhohavebeentossedonthestormywatersoftheoceanonafewfrailplankscanalonerealizetheblessingsoffairweather.”
MonteCristorose,andwithoutmakinganyanswer(forthetremulousnessofhisvoicewouldhavebetrayedhisemotion)walkedupanddowntheapartmentwithaslowstep.
“Ourmagnificencemakesyousmile,count,”saidMaximilian,whohadfollowedhimwithhiseyes.
“No,no,”returnedMonteCristo,paleasdeath,pressingonehandonhishearttostillitsthrobbings,whilewiththeotherhepointedtoacrystalcover,beneathwhichasilkenpurselayonablackvelvetcushion.
“Iwaswonderingwhatcouldbethesignificanceofthispurse,withthepaperatoneendandthelargediamondattheother.”
“Count,”repliedMaximilian,withanairofgravity,“thoseareourmostpreciousfamilytreasures.”
“Thestoneseemsverybrilliant,”answeredthecount.
“Oh,mybrotherdoesnotalludetoitsvalue,althoughithasbeenestimatedat100,000francs;hemeans,thatthearticlescontainedinthispursearetherelicsoftheangelIspokeofjustnow.”
“ThisIdonotcomprehend;andyetImaynotaskforanexplanation,madame,”repliedMonteCristobowing.“Pardonme,Ihadnointentionofcommittinganindiscretion.”
“Indiscretion,—oh,youmakeushappybygivingusanexcuseforexpatiatingonthissubject.
Ifwewantedtoconcealthenobleactionthispursecommemorates,weshouldnotexposeitthustoview.
Oh,wouldwecouldrelateiteverywhere,andtoeveryone,sothattheemotionofourunknownbenefactormightrevealhispresence.”
“Ah,really,”saidMonteCristoinahalf–stifledvoice.
“Monsieur,”returnedMaximilian,raisingtheglasscover,andrespectfullykissingthesilkenpurse,“thishastouchedthehandofamanwhosavedmyfatherfromsuicide,usfromruin,andournamefromshameanddisgrace,—amanbywhosematchlessbenevolencewepoorchildren,doomedtowantandwretchedness,canatpresentheareveryoneenvyingourhappylot.
Thisletter”(ashespoke,Maximiliandrewaletterfromthepurseandgaveittothecount)—”thisletterwaswrittenbyhimthedaythatmyfatherhadtakenadesperateresolution,andthisdiamondwasgivenbythegenerousunknowntomysisterasherdowry.”
MonteCristoopenedtheletter,andreaditwithanindescribablefeelingofdelight.
Itwastheletterwritten(asourreadersknow)toJulie,andsigned“SinbadtheSailor.”
“Unknownyousay,isthemanwhorenderedyouthisservice—unknowntoyou?”
“Yes;wehaveneverhadthehappinessofpressinghishand,”continuedMaximilian.
“Wehavesupplicatedheaveninvaintograntusthisfavor,butthewholeaffairhashadamysteriousmeaningthatwecannotcomprehend—wehavebeenguidedbyaninvisiblehand,—ahandaspowerfulasthatofanenchanter.”
“Oh,”criedJulie,“Ihavenotlostallhopeofsomedaykissingthathand,asInowkissthepursewhichhehastouched.
Fouryearsago,PenelonwasatTrieste—Penelon,count,istheoldsailoryousawinthegarden,andwho,fromquartermaster,hasbecomegardener—Penelon,whenhewasatTrieste,sawonthequayanEnglishman,whowasonthepointofembarkingonboardayacht,andherecognizedhimasthepersonwhocalledonmyfatherthefifthofJune,1829,andwhowrotemethisletteronthefifthofSeptember.
Hefeltconvincedofhisidentity,buthedidnotventuretoaddresshim.”
“AnEnglishman,”saidMonteCristo,whogrewuneasyattheattentionwithwhichJulielookedathim.“AnEnglishmanyousay?”
“Yes,”repliedMaximilian,“anEnglishman,whorepresentedhimselfastheconfidentialclerkofthehouseofThomson&French,atRome.
Itwasthisthatmademestartwhenyousaidtheotherday,atM.deMorcerf’s,thatMessrs.Thomson&Frenchwereyourbankers.Thathappened,asItoldyou,in1829.
ForGod’ssake,tellme,didyouknowthisEnglishman?”
“Butyoutellme,also,thatthehouseofThomson&Frenchhaveconstantlydeniedhavingrenderedyouthisservice?”
“Yes.”
“ThenisitnotprobablethatthisEnglishmanmaybesomeonewho,gratefulforakindnessyourfatherhadshownhim,andwhichhehimselfhadforgotten,hastakenthismethodofrequitingtheobligation?”
“Everythingispossibleinthisaffair,evenamiracle.”
“Whatwashisname?”askedMonteCristo.
“Hegavenoothername,”answeredJulie,lookingearnestlyatthecount,“thanthatattheendofhisletter—’SinbadtheSailor.’”
“Whichisevidentlynothisrealname,butafictitiousone.”
Then,noticingthatJuliewasstruckwiththesoundofhisvoice,—
“Tellme,”continuedhe,“washenotaboutmyheight,perhapsalittletaller,withhischinimprisoned,asitwere,inahighcravat;hiscoatcloselybuttonedup,andconstantlytakingouthispencil?”
“Oh,doyouthenknowhim?”criedJulie,whoseeyessparkledwithjoy.
“No,”returnedMonteCristo“Ionlyguessed.IknewaLordWilmore,whowasconstantlydoingactionsofthiskind.”
“Withoutrevealinghimself?”
“Hewasaneccentricbeing,anddidnotbelieveintheexistenceofgratitude.”
“Oh,heaven,”exclaimedJulie,claspingherhands,“inwhatdidhebelieve,then?”
“HedidnotcredititattheperiodwhichIknewhim,”saidMonteCristo,touchedtotheheartbytheaccentsofJulie’svoice;“but,perhaps,sincethenhehashadproofsthatgratitudedoesexist.”
“Anddoyouknowthisgentleman,monsieur?”inquiredEmmanuel.
“Oh,ifyoudoknowhim,”criedJulie,“canyoutelluswhereheis—wherewecanfindhim?
Maximilian—Emmanuel—ifwedobutdiscoverhim,hemustbelieveinthegratitudeoftheheart!”
MonteCristofelttearsstartintohiseyes,andheagainwalkedhastilyupanddowntheroom.
“Inthenameofheaven,”saidMaximilian,“ifyouknowanythingofhim,telluswhatitis.”
“Alas,”criedMonteCristo,strivingtorepresshisemotion,“ifLordWilmorewasyourunknownbenefactor,Ifearyouwillneverseehimagain.
IpartedfromhimtwoyearsagoatPalermo,andhewasthenonthepointofsettingoutforthemostremoteregions;sothatIfearhewillneverreturn.”
“Oh,monsieur,thisiscruelofyou,”saidJulie,muchaffected;andtheyounglady’seyesswamwithtears.
“Madame,”repliedMonteCristogravely,andgazingearnestlyonthetwoliquidpearlsthattrickleddownJulie’scheeks,“hadLordWilmoreseenwhatInowsee,hewouldbecomeattachedtolife,forthetearsyoushedwouldreconcilehimtomankind;”andheheldouthishandtoJulie,whogavehimhers,carriedawaybythelookandaccentofthecount.
“But,”continuedshe,“LordWilmorehadafamilyorfriends,hemusthaveknownsomeone,canwenot—”
“Oh,itisuselesstoinquire,”returnedthecount;“perhaps,afterall,hewasnotthemanyouseekfor.
Hewasmyfriend:hehadnosecretsfromme,andifthishadbeensohewouldhaveconfidedinme.”
“Andhetoldyounothing?”
“Notaword.”
“Nothingthatwouldleadyoutosuppose?”
“Nothing.”
“Andyetyouspokeofhimatonce.”
“Ah,insuchacaseonesupposes”—
“Sister,sister,”saidMaximilian,comingtothecount’said,“monsieurisquiteright.
Recollectwhatourexcellentfathersooftentoldus,‘ItwasnoEnglishmanthatthussavedus.’”MonteCristostarted.
“Whatdidyourfathertellyou,M.Morrel?”saidheeagerly.
“Myfatherthoughtthatthisactionhadbeenmiraculouslyperformed—hebelievedthatabenefactorhadarisenfromthegravetosaveus.
Oh,itwasatouchingsuperstition,monsieur,andalthoughIdidnotmyselfbelieveit,Iwouldnotfortheworldhavedestroyedmyfather’sfaith.
Howoftendidhemuseoveritandpronouncethenameofadearfriend—afriendlosttohimforever;andonhisdeath–bed,whenthenearapproachofeternityseemedtohaveilluminedhismindwithsupernaturallight,thisthought,whichhaduntilthenbeenbutadoubt,becameaconviction,andhislastwordswere,‘Maximilian,itwasEdmondDantes!
’”Atthesewordsthecount’spaleness,whichhadforsometimebeenincreasing,becamealarming;hecouldnotspeak;helookedathiswatchlikeamanwhohasforgottenthehour,saidafewhurriedwordstoMadameHerbault,andpressingthehandsofEmmanuelandMaximilian,—”Madame,”saidhe,“Itrustyouwillallowmetovisityouoccasionally;Ivalueyourfriendship,andfeelgratefultoyouforyourwelcome,forthisisthefirsttimeformanyyearsthatIhavethusyieldedtomyfeelings;”andhehastilyquittedtheapartment.
“ThisCountofMonteCristoisastrangeman,”saidEmmanuel.
“Yes,”answeredMaximilian,“butIfeelsurehehasanexcellentheart,andthathelikesus.”
“Hisvoicewenttomyheart,”observedJulie;“andtwoorthreetimesIfanciedthatIhadhearditbefore.”
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