English
Notonthesamenight,ashehadintended,butthenextmorning,theCountofMonteCristowentoutbytheBarrierd’Enfer,takingtheroadtoOrleans.
LeavingthevillageofLinas,withoutstoppingatthetelegraph,whichflourisheditsgreatbonyarmsashepassed,thecountreachedthetowerofMontlhery,situated,aseveryoneknows,uponthehighestpointoftheplainofthatname.
Atthefootofthehillthecountdismountedandbegantoascendbyalittlewindingpath,abouteighteenincheswide;whenhereachedthesummithefoundhimselfstoppedbyahedge,uponwhichgreenfruithadsucceededtoredandwhiteflowers.
MonteCristolookedfortheentrancetotheenclosure,andwasnotlonginfindingalittlewoodengate,workingonwillowhinges,andfastenedwithanailandstring.
Thecountsoonmasteredthemechanism,thegateopened,andhethenfoundhimselfinalittlegarden,abouttwentyfeetlongbytwelvewide,boundedononesidebypartofthehedge,whichcontainedtheingeniouscontrivancewehavecalledagate,andontheotherbytheoldtower,coveredwithivyandstuddedwithwall–flowers.
Noonewouldhavethoughtinlookingatthisold,weather–beaten,floral–deckedtower(whichmightbelikenedtoanelderlydamedresseduptoreceivehergrandchildrenatabirthdayfeast)thatitwouldhavebeencapableoftellingstrangethings,if,—inadditiontothemenacingearswhichtheproverbsaysallwallsareprovidedwith,—ithadalsoavoice.
Thegardenwascrossedbyapathofredgravel,edgedbyaborderofthickbox,ofmanyyears’growth,andofatoneandcolorthatwouldhavedelightedtheheartofDelacroix,ourmodernRubens.
Thispathwasformedintheshapeofthefigureof8,thus,initswindings,makingawalkofsixtyfeetinagardenofonlytwenty.
NeverhadFlora,thefreshandsmilinggoddessofgardeners,beenhonoredwithapurerormorescrupulousworshipthanthatwhichwaspaidtoherinthislittleenclosure.
Infact,ofthetwentyrose–treeswhichformedtheparterre,notoneborethemarkoftheslug,norwerethereevidencesanywhereoftheclusteringaphiswhichissodestructivetoplantsgrowinginadampsoil.
Andyetitwasnotbecausethedamphadbeenexcludedfromthegarden;theearth,blackassoot,thethickfoliageofthetreesbetrayeditspresence;besides,hadnaturalhumiditybeenwanting,itcouldhavebeenimmediatelysuppliedbyartificialmeans,thankstoatankofwater,sunkinoneofthecornersofthegarden,anduponwhichwerestationedafrogandatoad,who,fromantipathy,nodoubt,alwaysremainedonthetwooppositesidesofthebasin.
Therewasnotabladeofgrasstobeseeninthepaths,oraweedintheflower–beds;nofineladyevertrainedandwateredhergeraniums,hercacti,andherrhododendrons,withmorepainsthanthishithertounseengardenerbestoweduponhislittleenclosure.
MonteCristostoppedafterhavingclosedthegateandfastenedthestringtothenail,andcastalookaround.
“Themanatthetelegraph,”saidhe,“musteitherengageagardenerordevotehimselfpassionatelytoagriculture.”
Suddenlyhestruckagainstsomethingcrouchingbehindawheelbarrowfilledwithleaves;thesomethingrose,utteringanexclamationofastonishment,andMonteCristofoundhimselffacingamanaboutfiftyyearsold,whowaspluckingstrawberries,whichhewasplacingupongrapeleaves.
Hehadtwelveleavesandaboutasmanystrawberries,which,onrisingsuddenly,heletfallfromhishand.“Youaregatheringyourcrop,sir?”saidMonteCristo,smiling.
“Excuseme,sir,”repliedtheman,raisinghishandtohiscap;“Iamnotupthere,Iknow,butIhaveonlyjustcomedown.”
“Donotletmeinterferewithyouinanything,myfriend,”saidthecount;“gatheryourstrawberries,if,indeed,thereareanyleft.”
“Ihavetenleft,”saidtheman,“forhereareeleven,andIhadtwenty–one,fivemorethanlastyear.
ButIamnotsurprised;thespringhasbeenwarmthisyear,andstrawberriesrequireheat,sir.
Thisisthereasonthat,insteadofthesixteenIhadlastyear,Ihavethisyear,yousee,eleven,alreadyplucked—twelve,thirteen,fourteen,fifteen,sixteen,seventeen,eighteen.
Ah,Imissthree,theywereherelastnight,sir—Iamsuretheywerehere—Icountedthem.
ItmustbetheMereSimon’ssonwhohasstolenthem;Isawhimstrollingaboutherethismorning.
Ah,theyoungrascal—stealinginagarden—hedoesnotknowwherethatmayleadhimto.”
“Certainly,itiswrong,”saidMonteCristo,“butyoushouldtakeintoconsiderationtheyouthandgreedinessofthedelinquent.”
“Ofcourse,”saidthegardener,“butthatdoesnotmakeitthelessunpleasant.
But,sir,oncemoreIbegpardon;perhapsyouareanofficerthatIamdetaininghere.”
Andheglancedtimidlyatthecount’sbluecoat.
“Calmyourself,myfriend,”saidthecount,withthesmilewhichhemadeatwilleitherterribleorbenevolent,andwhichnowexpressedonlythekindliestfeeling;“Iamnotaninspector,butatraveller,broughtherebyacuriosityhehalfrepentsof,sincehecausesyoutoloseyourtime.”
“Ah,mytimeisnotvaluable,”repliedthemanwithamelancholysmile.
“Stillitbelongstogovernment,andIoughtnottowasteit;but,havingreceivedthesignalthatImightrestforanhour”(hereheglancedatthesun–dial,fortherewaseverythingintheenclosureofMontlhery,evenasun–dial),“andhavingtenminutesbeforeme,andmystrawberriesbeingripe,whenadaylonger—by–the–by,sir,doyouthinkdormiceeatthem?”
“Indeed,Ishouldthinknot,”repliedMonteCristo;“dormicearebadneighborsforuswhodonoteatthempreserved,astheRomansdid.”
“What?DidtheRomanseatthem?”saidthegardener—”atedormice?”
“IhavereadsoinPetronius,”saidthecount.
“Really?Theycan’tbenice,thoughtheydosay‘asfatasadormouse.’
Itisnotawondertheyarefat,sleepingallday,andonlywakingtoeatallnight.Listen.
LastyearIhadfourapricots—theystoleone,Ihadonenectarine,onlyone—well,sir,theyatehalfofitonthewall;asplendidnectarine—Ineverateabetter.”
“Youateit?”
“Thatistosay,thehalfthatwasleft—youunderstand;itwasexquisite,sir.
Ah,thosegentlemenneverchoosetheworstmorsels;likeMereSimon’sson,whohasnotchosentheworststrawberries.
Butthisyear,”continuedthehorticulturist,“I’lltakecareitshallnothappen,evenifIshouldbeforcedtositbythewholenighttowatchwhenthestrawberriesareripe.”MonteCristohadseenenough.
Everymanhasadevouringpassioninhisheart,aseveryfruithasitsworm;thatofthetelegraphmanwashorticulture.
Hebegangatheringthegrape–leaveswhichscreenedthesunfromthegrapes,andwontheheartofthegardener.
“Didyoucomehere,sir,toseethetelegraph?”hesaid.
“Yes,ifitisn’tcontrarytotherules.”
“Oh,no,”saidthegardener;“notintheleast,sincethereisnodangerthatanyonecanpossiblyunderstandwhatwearesaying.”
“Ihavebeentold,”saidthecount,“thatyoudonotalwaysyourselvesunderstandthesignalsyourepeat.”
“Thatistrue,sir,andthatiswhatIlikebest,”saidtheman,smiling.
“Whydoyoulikethatbest?”
“BecausethenIhavenoresponsibility.Iamamachinethen,andnothingelse,andsolongasIwork,nothingmoreisrequiredofme.”
“Isitpossible,”saidMonteCristotohimself,“thatIcanhavemetwithamanthathasnoambition?Thatwouldspoilmyplans.”
“Sir,”saidthegardener,glancingatthesun–dial,“thetenminutesarealmostup;Imustreturntomypost.Willyougoupwithme?”
“Ifollowyou.”MonteCristoenteredthetower,whichwasdividedintothreestories.
Thetowercontainedimplements,suchasspades,rakes,watering–pots,hungagainstthewall;thiswasallthefurniture.
Thesecondwastheman’sconventionalabode,orrathersleeping–place;itcontainedafewpoorarticlesofhouseholdfurniture—abed,atable,twochairs,astonepitcher—andsomedryherbs,hunguptotheceiling,whichthecountrecognizedassweetpease,andofwhichthegoodmanwaspreservingtheseeds;hehadlabelledthemwithasmuchcareasifhehadbeenmasterbotanistintheJardindesPlantes.
“Doesitrequiremuchstudytolearntheartoftelegraphing?”askedMonteCristo.
“Thestudydoesnottakelong;itwasactingasasupernumerarythatwassotedious.”
“Andwhatisthepay?”
“Athousandfrancs,sir.”
“Itisnothing.”
“No;butthenwearelodged,asyouperceive.”
MonteCristolookedattheroom.Theypassedtothethirdstory;itwasthetelegraphroom.
MonteCristolookedinturnatthetwoironhandlesbywhichthemachinewasworked.
“Itisveryinteresting,”hesaid,“butitmustbeverytediousforalifetime.”
“Yes.Atfirstmyneckwascrampedwithlookingatit,butattheendofayearIbecameusedtoit;andthenwehaveourhoursofrecreation,andourholidays.”
“Holidays?”
“Yes.”
“When?”
“Whenwehaveafog.”
“Ah,tobesure.”
“Thoseareindeedholidaystome;Igointothegarden,Iplant,Iprune,Itrim,Ikilltheinsectsalldaylong.”
“Howlonghaveyoubeenhere?”
“Tenyears,andfiveasasupernumerarymakefifteen.”
“Youare—”
“Fifty–fiveyearsold.”
“Howlongmustyouhaveservedtoclaimthepension?”
“Oh,sir,twenty–fiveyears.”
“Andhowmuchisthepension?”
“Ahundredcrowns.”
“Poorhumanity!”murmuredMonteCristo.
“Whatdidyousay,sir?”askedtheman.
“Iwassayingitwasveryinteresting.”
“Whatwas?”
“Allyouwereshowingme.Andyoureallyunderstandnoneofthesesignals?”
“Noneatall.”
“Andhaveyounevertriedtounderstandthem?”
“Never.WhyshouldI?”
“Butstilltherearesomesignalsonlyaddressedtoyou.”
“Certainly.”
“Anddoyouunderstandthem?”
“Theyarealwaysthesame.”
“Andtheymean—”
“Nothingnew;Youhaveanhour;orTo–morrow.”
“Thisissimpleenough,”saidthecount;“butlook,isnotyourcorrespondentputtingitselfinmotion?”
“Ah,yes;thankyou,sir.”
“Andwhatisitsaying—anythingyouunderstand?”
“Yes;itasksifIamready.”
“Andyoureply?”
“Bythesamesign,which,atthesametime,tellsmyright–handcorrespondentthatIamready,whileitgivesnoticetomyleft–handcorrespondenttoprepareinhisturn.”
“Itisveryingenious,”saidthecount.
“Youwillsee,”saidthemanproudly;“infiveminuteshewillspeak.”
“Ihave,then,fiveminutes,”saidMonteCristotohimself;“itismoretimethanIrequire.Mydearsir,willyouallowmetoaskyouaquestion?”
“Whatisit,sir?”
“Youarefondofgardening?”
“Passionately.”
“Andyouwouldbepleasedtohave,insteadofthisterraceoftwentyfeet,anenclosureoftwoacres?”
“Sir,Ishouldmakeaterrestrialparadiseofit.”
“Youlivebadlyonyourthousandfrancs?”
“Badlyenough;butyetIdolive.”
“Yes;butyouhaveawretchedlysmallgarden.”
“True,thegardenisnotlarge.”
“And,then,suchasitis,itisfilledwithdormice,whoeateverything.”
“Ah,theyaremyscourges.”
“Tellme,shouldyouhavethemisfortunetoturnyourheadwhileyourright–handcorrespondentwastelegraphing”—
“Ishouldnotseehim.”
“Thenwhatwouldhappen?”
“Icouldnotrepeatthesignals.”
“Andthen?”
“Nothavingrepeatedthem,throughnegligence,Ishouldbefined.”
“Howmuch?”
“Ahundredfrancs.”
“Thetenthofyourincome—thatwouldbefinework.”
“Ah,”saidtheman.
“Hasiteverhappenedtoyou?”saidMonteCristo.
“Once,sir,whenIwasgraftingarose–tree.”
“Well,supposeyouweretoalterasignal,andsubstituteanother?”
“Ah,thatisanothercase;Ishouldbeturnedoff,andlosemypension.”
“Threehundredfrancs?”
“Ahundredcrowns,yes,sir;soyouseethatIamnotlikelytodoanyofthesethings.”
“Notevenforfifteenyears’wages?Come,itisworththinkingabout?”
“Forfifteenthousandfrancs?”
“Yes.”
“Sir,youalarmme.”
“Nonsense.”
“Sir,youaretemptingme?”
“Justso;fifteenthousandfrancs,doyouunderstand?”
“Sir,letmeseemyright–handcorrespondent.”
“Onthecontrary,donotlookathim,butatthis.”
“Whatisit?”
“What?Doyounotknowthesebitsofpaper?”
“Bank–notes!”
“Exactly;therearefifteenofthem.”
“Andwhosearethey?”
“Yours,ifyoulike.”
“Mine?”exclaimedtheman,half–suffocated.
“Yes;yours—yourownproperty.”
“Sir,myright–handcorrespondentissignalling.”
“Lethimsignal.”
“Sir,youhavedistractedme;Ishallbefined.”
“Thatwillcostyouahundredfrancs;youseeitisyourinteresttotakemybank–notes.”
“Sir,myright–handcorrespondentredoubleshissignals;heisimpatient.”
“Nevermind—takethese;”andthecountplacedthepacketintheman’shands.“Nowthisisnotall,”hesaid;“youcannotliveuponyourfifteenthousandfrancs.”
“Ishallstillhavemyplace.”
“No,youwillloseit,foryouaregoingtoalteryourcorrespondent’smessage.”
“Oh,sir,whatareyouproposing?”
“Ajest.”
“Sir,unlessyouforceme”—
“IthinkIcaneffectuallyforceyou;”andMonteCristodrewanotherpacketfromhispocket.
“Herearetenthousandmorefrancs,”hesaid,“withthefifteenthousandalreadyinyourpocket,theywillmaketwenty–fivethousand.
Withfivethousandyoucanbuyaprettylittlehousewithtwoacresofland;theremainingtwentythousandwillbringyouinathousandfrancsayear.”
“Agardenwithtwoacresofland!”
“Andathousandfrancsayear.”
“Oh,heavens!”
“Come,takethem,”andMonteCristoforcedthebank–notesintohishand.
“WhatamItodo?”
“Nothingverydifficult.”
“Butwhatisit?”
“Torepeatthesesigns.”MonteCristotookapaperfromhispocket,uponwhichweredrawnthreesigns,withnumberstoindicatetheorderinwhichtheyweretobeworked.
“There,youseeitwillnottakelong.”
“Yes;but”—
“Dothis,andyouwillhavenectarinesandalltherest.”
Theshottold;redwithfever,whilethelargedropsfellfromhisbrow,themanexecuted,oneaftertheother,thethreesignsgivenbythecount,inspiteofthefrightfulcontortionsoftheright–handcorrespondent,who,notunderstandingthechange,begantothinkthegardenerhadgonemad.
Astotheleft–handone,heconscientiouslyrepeatedthesamesignals,whichwerefinallytransmittedtotheMinisteroftheInterior.“Nowyouarerich,”saidMonteCristo.
“Yes,”repliedtheman,“butatwhataprice!”
“Listen,friend,”saidMonteCristo.“Idonotwishtocauseyouanyremorse;believeme,then,whenIsweartoyouthatyouhavewrongednoman,butonthecontraryhavebenefitedmankind.”
Themanlookedatthebank–notes,feltthem,countedthem,turnedpale,thenred,thenrushedintohisroomtodrinkaglassofwater,buthehadnotimetoreachthewater–jug,andfaintedinthemidstofhisdriedherbs.
Fiveminutesafterthenewtelegramreachedtheminister,Debrayhadthehorsesputtohiscarriage,anddrovetoDanglars’house.
“HasyourhusbandanySpanishbonds?”heaskedofthebaroness.
“Ithinkso,indeed!Hehassixmillions’worth.”
“Hemustsellthematwhateverprice.”
“Why?”
“BecauseDonCarloshasfledfromBourges,andhasreturnedtoSpain.”
“Howdoyouknow?”Debrayshruggedhisshoulders.
“TheideaofaskinghowIhearthenews,”hesaid.
Thebaronessdidnotwaitforarepetition;sherantoherhusband,whoimmediatelyhastenedtohisagent,andorderedhimtosellatanyprice.
WhenitwasseenthatDanglarssold,theSpanishfundsfelldirectly.
Danglarslostfivehundredthousandfrancs;butheridhimselfofallhisSpanishshares.
ThesameeveningthefollowingwasreadinLeMessager:
“[Bytelegraph.]Theking,DonCarlos,hasescapedthevigilanceofhisguardiansatBourges,andhasreturnedtoSpainbytheCatalonianfrontier.Barcelonahasriseninhisfavor.”
AllthateveningnothingwasspokenofbuttheforesightofDanglars,whohadsoldhisshares,andoftheluckofthestock–jobber,whoonlylostfivehundredthousandfrancsbysuchablow.
Thosewhohadkepttheirshares,orboughtthoseofDanglars,lookeduponthemselvesasruined,andpassedaverybadnight.
NextmorningLeMoniteurcontainedthefollowing:
“ItwaswithoutanyfoundationthatLeMessageryesterdayannouncedtheflightofDonCarlosandtherevoltofBarcelona.
Theking(DonCarlos)hasnotleftBourges,andthepeninsulaisintheenjoymentofprofoundpeace.
Atelegraphicsignal,improperlyinterpreted,owingtothefog,wasthecauseofthiserror.”
Thefundsroseonepercenthigherthanbeforetheyhadfallen.
This,reckoninghisloss,andwhathehadmissedgaining,madethedifferenceofamilliontoDanglars.
“Good,”saidMonteCristotoMorrel,whowasathishousewhenthenewsarrivedofthestrangereverseoffortuneofwhichDanglarshadbeenthevictim,“Ihavejustmadeadiscoveryfortwenty–fivethousandfrancs,forwhichIwouldhavepaidahundredthousand.”
“Whathaveyoudiscovered?”askedMorrel.
“Ihavejustdiscoveredhowagardenermaygetridofthedormicethateathispeaches.”
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