English
M.deBovillehadindeedmetthefuneralprocessionwhichwastakingValentinetoherlasthomeonearth.
Theweatherwasdullandstormy,acoldwindshookthefewremainingyellowleavesfromtheboughsofthetrees,andscatteredthemamongthecrowdwhichfilledtheboulevards.
M.deVillefort,atrueParisian,consideredthecemeteryofPere–la–ChaisealoneworthyofreceivingthemortalremainsofaParisianfamily;therealonethecorpsesbelongingtohimwouldbesurroundedbyworthyassociates.
Hehadthereforepurchasedavault,whichwasquicklyoccupiedbymembersofhisfamily.
Onthefrontofthemonumentwasinscribed:“ThefamiliesofSaint–MeranandVillefort,”forsuchhadbeenthelastwishexpressedbypoorRenee,Valentine’smother.
ThepompousprocessionthereforewendeditswaytowardsPere–la–ChaisefromtheFaubourgSaint–Honore.
HavingcrossedParis,itpassedthroughtheFaubourgduTemple,thenleavingtheexteriorboulevards,itreachedthecemetery.
Morethanfiftyprivatecarriagesfollowedthetwentymourning–coaches,andbehindthemmorethanfivehundredpersonsjoinedintheprocessiononfoot.
TheselastconsistedofalltheyoungpeoplewhomValentine’sdeathhadstrucklikeathunderbolt,andwho,notwithstandingtherawchillinessoftheseason,couldnotrefrainfrompayingalasttributetothememoryofthebeautiful,chaste,andadorablegirl,thuscutoffintheflowerofheryouth.
AstheyleftParis,anequipagewithfourhorses,atfullspeed,wasseentodrawupsuddenly;itcontainedMonteCristo.
Thecountleftthecarriageandmingledinthecrowdwhofollowedonfoot.
Chateau–Renaudperceivedhimandimmediatelyalightingfromhiscoupe,joinedhim.
Thecountlookedattentivelythrougheveryopeninginthecrowd;hewasevidentlywatchingforsomeone,buthissearchendedindisappointment.“WhereisMorrel?”
heasked;“doeitherofthesegentlemenknowwhereheis?”
“Wehavealreadyaskedthatquestion,”saidChateau–Renaud,“fornoneofushasseenhim.”
Thecountwassilent,butcontinuedtogazearoundhim.Atlengththeyarrivedatthecemetery.
ThepiercingeyeofMonteCristoglancedthroughclustersofbushesandtrees,andwassoonrelievedfromallanxiety,forseeingashadowglidebetweentheyew–trees,MonteCristorecognizedhimwhomhesought.
Onefuneralisgenerallyverymuchlikeanotherinthismagnificentmetropolis.
Blackfiguresareseenscatteredoverthelongwhiteavenues;thesilenceofearthandheavenisalonebrokenbythenoisemadebythecracklingbranchesofhedgesplantedaroundthemonuments;thenfollowsthemelancholychantofthepriests,minglednowandthenwithasobofanguish,escapingfromsomewomanconcealedbehindamassofflowers.
TheshadowMonteCristohadnoticedpassedrapidlybehindthetombofAbelardandHeloise,placeditselfclosetotheheadsofthehorsesbelongingtothehearse,andfollowingtheundertaker’smen,arrivedwiththematthespotappointedfortheburial.Eachperson’sattentionwasoccupied.
MonteCristosawnothingbuttheshadow,whichnooneelseobserved.
Twicethecountlefttherankstoseewhethertheobjectofhisinteresthadanyconcealedweaponbeneathhisclothes.
Whentheprocessionstopped,thisshadowwasrecognizedasMorrel,who,withhiscoatbuttoneduptohisthroat,hisfacelivid,andconvulsivelycrushinghishatbetweenhisfingers,leanedagainstatree,situatedonanelevationcommandingthemausoleum,sothatnoneofthefuneraldetailscouldescapehisobservation.
Everythingwasconductedintheusualmanner.
Afewmen,theleastimpressedofallbythescene,pronouncedadiscourse,somedeploringthisprematuredeath,othersexpatiatingonthegriefofthefather,andoneveryingeniouspersonquotingthefactthatValentinehadsolicitedpardonofherfatherforcriminalsonwhomthearmofjusticewasreadytofall—untilatlengththeyexhaustedtheirstoresofmetaphorandmournfulspeeches.
MonteCristoheardandsawnothing,orratherheonlysawMorrel,whosecalmnesshadafrightfuleffectonthosewhoknewwhatwaspassinginhisheart.
“See,”saidBeauchamp,pointingoutMorreltoDebray.“Whatishedoingupthere?”
AndtheycalledChateau–Renaud’sattentiontohim.
“Howpaleheis!”saidChateau–Renaud,shuddering.
“Heiscold,”saidDebray.
“Notatall,”saidChateau–Renaud,slowly;“Ithinkheisviolentlyagitated.Heisverysusceptible.”
“Bah,”saidDebray;“hescarcelyknewMademoiselledeVillefort;yousaidsoyourself.”
“True.StillIrememberhedancedthreetimeswithheratMadamedeMorcerf’s.Doyourecollectthatball,count,whereyouproducedsuchaneffect?”
“No,Idonot,”repliedMonteCristo,withoutevenknowingofwhatortowhomhewasspeaking,somuchwasheoccupiedinwatchingMorrel,whowasholdinghisbreathwithemotion.
“Thediscourseisover;farewell,gentlemen,”saidthecount.
Andhedisappearedwithoutanyoneseeingwhitherhewent.
Thefuneralbeingover,theguestsreturnedtoParis.
Chateau–RenaudlookedforamomentforMorrel;butwhiletheywerewatchingthedepartureofthecount,Morrelhadquittedhispost,andChateau–Renaud,failinginhissearch,joinedDebrayandBeauchamp.
MonteCristoconcealedhimselfbehindalargetombandawaitedthearrivalofMorrel,whobydegreesapproachedthetombnowabandonedbyspectatorsandworkmen.
Morrelthrewaglancearound,butbeforeitreachedthespotoccupiedbyMonteCristothelatterhadadvancedyetnearer,stillunperceived.Theyoungmankneltdown.
Thecount,withoutstretchedneckandglaringeyes,stoodinanattitudereadytopounceuponMorreluponthefirstoccasion.
Morrelbenthisheadtillittouchedthestone,thenclutchingthegratingwithbothhands,hemurmured,—”Oh,Valentine!”
Thecount’sheartwaspiercedbytheutteranceofthesetwowords;hesteppedforward,andtouchingtheyoungman’sshoulder,said,—”Iwaslookingforyou,myfriend.”
MonteCristoexpectedaburstofpassion,buthewasdeceived,forMorrelturninground,saidcalmly,—
“YouseeIwaspraying.”Thescrutinizingglanceofthecountsearchedtheyoungmanfromheadtofoot.Hethenseemedmoreeasy.
“ShallIdriveyoubacktoParis?”heasked.
“No,thankyou.”
“Doyouwishanything?”
“Leavemetopray.”Thecountwithdrewwithoutopposition,butitwasonlytoplacehimselfinasituationwherehecouldwatcheverymovementofMorrel,whoatlengtharose,brushedthedustfromhisknees,andturnedtowardsParis,withoutoncelookingback.
HewalkedslowlydowntheRuedelaRoquette.
Thecount,dismissinghiscarriage,followedhimaboutahundredpacesbehind.
MaximiliancrossedthecanalandenteredtheRueMeslaybytheboulevards.
FiveminutesafterthedoorhadbeenclosedonMorrel’sentrance,itwasagainopenedforthecount.
Juliewasattheentranceofthegarden,whereshewasattentivelywatchingPenelon,who,enteringwithzealintohisprofessionofgardener,wasverybusygraftingsomeBengalroses.
“Ah,count,”sheexclaimed,withthedelightmanifestedbyeverymemberofthefamilywheneverhevisitedtheRueMeslay.
“Maximilianhasjustreturned,hashenot,madame?”askedthecount.
“Yes,IthinkIsawhimpass;butpray,callEmmanuel.”
“Excuseme,madame,butImustgouptoMaximilian’sroomthisinstant,”repliedMonteCristo,“Ihavesomethingofthegreatestimportancetotellhim.”
“Go,then,”shesaidwithacharmingsmile,whichaccompaniedhimuntilhehaddisappeared.
MonteCristosoonranupthestaircaseconductingfromtheground–floortoMaximilian’sroom;whenhereachedthelandinghelistenedattentively,butallwasstill.
Likemanyoldhousesoccupiedbyasinglefamily,theroomdoorwaspanelledwithglass;butitwaslocked,Maximilianwasshutin,anditwasimpossibletoseewhatwaspassingintheroom,becausearedcurtainwasdrawnbeforetheglass.
Thecount’sanxietywasmanifestedbyabrightcolorwhichseldomappearedonthefaceofthatimperturbableman.
“WhatshallIdo!”heuttered,andreflectedforamoment;“shallIring?
No,thesoundofabell,announcingavisitor,willbutacceleratetheresolutionofoneinMaximilian’ssituation,andthenthebellwouldbefollowedbyaloudernoise.”
MonteCristotrembledfromheadtofootandasifhisdeterminationhadbeentakenwiththerapidityoflightning,hestruckoneofthepanesofglasswithhiselbow;theglasswasshiveredtoatoms,thenwithdrawingthecurtainhesawMorrel,whohadbeenwritingathisdesk,boundfromhisseatatthenoiseofthebrokenwindow.
“Ibegathousandpardons,”saidthecount,“thereisnothingthematter,butIslippeddownandbrokeoneofyourpanesofglasswithmyelbow.
Sinceitisopened,Iwilltakeadvantageofittoenteryourroom;donotdisturbyourself—donotdisturbyourself!”
Andpassinghishandthroughthebrokenglass,thecountopenedthedoor.
Morrel,evidentlydiscomposed,cametomeetMonteCristolesswiththeintentionofreceivinghimthantoexcludehisentry.
“Mafoi,”saidMonteCristo,rubbinghiselbow,“it’sallyourservant’sfault;yourstairsaresopolished,itislikewalkingonglass.”
“Areyouhurt,sir?”coldlyaskedMorrel.
“Ibelievenot.Butwhatareyouaboutthere?Youwerewriting.”
“I?”“Yourfingersarestainedwithink.”
“Ah,true,Iwaswriting.Idosometimes,soldierthoughIam.”
MonteCristoadvancedintotheroom;Maximilianwasobligedtolethimpass,buthefollowedhim.“Youwerewriting?”saidMonteCristowithasearchinglook.
“IhavealreadyhadthehonoroftellingyouIwas,”saidMorrel.
Thecountlookedaroundhim.“Yourpistolsarebesideyourdesk,”saidMonteCristo,pointingwithhisfingertothepistolsonthetable.
“Iamonthepointofstartingonajourney,”repliedMorreldisdainfully.
“Myfriend,”exclaimedMonteCristoinatoneofexquisitesweetness.
“Sir?”
“Myfriend,mydearMaximilian,donotmakeahastyresolution,Ientreatyou.”
“Imakeahastyresolution?”saidMorrel,shrugginghisshoulders;“isthereanythingextraordinaryinajourney?”
“Maximilian,”saidthecount,“letusbothlayasidethemaskwehaveassumed.
YounomoredeceivemewiththatfalsecalmnessthanIimposeuponyouwithmyfrivoloussolicitude.
Youcanunderstand,canyounot,thattohaveactedasIhavedone,tohavebrokenthatglass,tohaveintrudedonthesolitudeofafriend—youcanunderstandthat,tohavedoneallthis,Imusthavebeenactuatedbyrealuneasiness,orratherbyaterribleconviction.
Morrel,youaregoingtodestroyyourself!”
“Indeed,count,”saidMorrel,shuddering;“whathasputthisintoyourhead?”
“Itellyouthatyouareabouttodestroyyourself,”continuedthecount,“andhereisproofofwhatIsay;”and,approachingthedesk,heremovedthesheetofpaperwhichMorrelhadplacedovertheletterhehadbegun,andtookthelatterinhishands.
Morrelrushedforwardtotearitfromhim,butMonteCristoperceivinghisintention,seizedhiswristwithhisirongrasp.“Youwishtodestroyyourself,”saidthecount;“youhavewrittenit.”
“Well,”saidMorrel,changinghisexpressionofcalmnessforoneofviolence—”well,andifIdointendtoturnthispistolagainstmyself,whoshallpreventme—whowilldarepreventme?
Allmyhopesareblighted,myheartisbroken,mylifeaburden,everythingaroundmeissadandmournful;earthhasbecomedistastefultome,andhumanvoicesdistractme.
Itisamercytoletmedie,forifIliveIshalllosemyreasonandbecomemad.
When,sir,Itellyouallthiswithtearsofheartfeltanguish,canyoureplythatIamwrong,canyoupreventmyputtinganendtomymiserableexistence?
Tellme,sir,couldyouhavethecouragetodoso?”
“Yes,Morrel,”saidMonteCristo,withacalmnesswhichcontrastedstrangelywiththeyoungman’sexcitement;“yes,Iwoulddoso.”
“You?”exclaimedMorrel,withincreasingangerandreproach—”you,whohavedeceivedmewithfalsehopes,whohavecheeredandsoothedmewithvainpromises,whenImight,ifnothavesavedher,atleasthaveseenherdieinmyarms!
You,whopretendtounderstandeverything,eventhehiddensourcesofknowledge,—andwhoenactthepartofaguardianangeluponearth,andcouldnotevenfindanantidotetoapoisonadministeredtoayounggirl!
Ah,sir,indeedyouwouldinspiremewithpity,wereyounothatefulinmyeyes.”
“Morrel”—
“Yes;youtellmetolayasidethemask,andIwilldoso,besatisfied!
Whenyouspoketomeatthecemetery,Iansweredyou—myheartwassoftened;whenyouarrivedhere,Iallowedyoutoenter.
Butsinceyouabusemyconfidence,sinceyouhavedevisedanewtortureafterIthoughtIhadexhaustedthemall,then,CountofMonteCristomypretendedbenefactor—then,CountofMonteCristo,theuniversalguardian,besatisfied,youshallwitnessthedeathofyourfriend;”andMorrel,withamaniacallaugh,againrushedtowardsthepistols.
“AndIagainrepeat,youshallnotcommitsuicide.”
“Preventme,then!”repliedMorrel,withanotherstruggle,which,likethefirst,failedinreleasinghimfromthecount’sirongrasp.
“Iwillpreventyou.”
“Andwhoareyou,then,thatarrogatetoyourselfthistyrannicalrightoverfreeandrationalbeings?”
“WhoamI?”repeatedMonteCristo.
“Listen;Iamtheonlymanintheworldhavingtherighttosaytoyou,‘Morrel,yourfather’ssonshallnotdieto–day;’”andMonteCristo,withanexpressionofmajestyandsublimity,advancedwitharmsfoldedtowardtheyoungman,who,involuntarilyovercomebythecommandingmannerofthisman,recoiledastep.
“Whydoyoumentionmyfather?”stammeredhe;“whydoyouminglearecollectionofhimwiththeaffairsoftoday?”
“BecauseIamhewhosavedyourfather’slifewhenhewishedtodestroyhimself,asyoudoto–day—becauseIamthemanwhosentthepursetoyouryoungsister,andthePharaontooldMorrel—becauseIamtheEdmondDanteswhonursedyou,achild,onmyknees.”
Morrelmadeanotherstepback,staggering,breathless,crushed;thenallhisstrengthgiveway,andhefellprostrateatthefeetofMonteCristo.
Thenhisadmirablenatureunderwentacompleteandsuddenrevulsion;hearose,rushedoutoftheroomandtothestairs,exclaimingenergetically,“Julie,Julie—Emmanuel,Emmanuel!”
MonteCristoendeavoredalsotoleave,butMaximilianwouldhavediedratherthanrelaxhisholdofthehandleofthedoor,whichhecloseduponthecount.
Julie,Emmanuel,andsomeoftheservants,ranupinalarmonhearingthecriesofMaximilian.
Morrelseizedtheirhands,andopeningthedoorexclaimedinavoicechokedwithsobs,“Onyourknees—onyourknees—heisourbenefactor—thesaviourofourfather!Heis”—
Hewouldhaveadded“EdmondDantes,”butthecountseizedhisarmandpreventedhim.
Juliethrewherselfintothearmsofthecount;Emmanuelembracedhimasaguardianangel;Morrelagainfellonhisknees,andstruckthegroundwithhisforehead.
Thentheiron–heartedmanfelthisheartswellinhisbreast;aflameseemedtorushfromhisthroattohiseyes,hebenthisheadandwept.
Forawhilenothingwasheardintheroombutasuccessionofsobs,whiletheincensefromtheirgratefulheartsmountedtoheaven.
Juliehadscarcelyrecoveredfromherdeepemotionwhensherushedoutoftheroom,descendedtothenextfloor,ranintothedrawing–roomwithchildlikejoyandraisedthecrystalglobewhichcoveredthepursegivenbytheunknownoftheAlleesdeMeillan.
Meanwhile,Emmanuelinabrokenvoicesaidtothecount,“Oh,count,howcouldyou,hearingussooftenspeakofourunknownbenefactor,seeinguspaysuchhomageofgratitudeandadorationtohismemory,—howcouldyoucontinuesolongwithoutdiscoveringyourselftous?
Oh,itwascrueltous,and—dareIsayit?—toyoualso.”
“Listen,myfriends,”saidthecount—”Imaycallyousosincewehavereallybeenfriendsforthelastelevenyears—thediscoveryofthissecrethasbeenoccasionedbyagreateventwhichyoumustneverknow.
Iwishtoburyitduringmywholelifeinmyownbosom,butyourbrotherMaximilianwresteditfrommebyaviolenceherepentsofnow,Iamsure.”
Thenturningaround,andseeingthatMorrel,stillonhisknees,hadthrownhimselfintoanarm–chair,headdedinalowvoice,pressingEmmanuel’shandsignificantly,“Watchoverhim.”
“Whyso?”askedtheyoungman,surprised.
“Icannotexplainmyself;butwatchoverhim.”
Emmanuellookedaroundtheroomandcaughtsightofthepistols;hiseyesrestedontheweapons,andhepointedtothem.MonteCristobenthishead.Emmanuelwenttowardsthepistols.“Leavethem,”saidMonteCristo.
ThenwalkingtowardsMorrel,hetookhishand;thetumultuousagitationoftheyoungmanwassucceededbyaprofoundstupor.
Juliereturned,holdingthesilkenpurseinherhands,whiletearsofjoyrolleddownhercheeks,likedewdropsontherose.
“Hereistherelic,”shesaid;“donotthinkitwillbelessdeartousnowweareacquaintedwithourbenefactor!”
“Mychild,”saidMonteCristo,coloring,“allowmetotakebackthatpurse?Sinceyounowknowmyface,IwishtoberememberedalonethroughtheaffectionIhopeyouwillgrantme.
“Oh,”saidJulie,pressingthepursetoherheart,“no,no,Ibeseechyoudonottakeit,forsomeunhappydayyouwillleaveus,willyounot?”
“Youhaveguessedrightly,madame,”repliedMonteCristo,smiling;“inaweekIshallhaveleftthiscountry,wheresomanypersonswhomeritthevengeanceofheavenlivedhappily,whilemyfatherperishedofhungerandgrief.”
Whileannouncinghisdeparture,thecountfixedhiseyesonMorrel,andremarkedthatthewords,“Ishallhaveleftthiscountry,”hadfailedtorousehimfromhislethargy.
Hethensawthathemustmakeanotherstruggleagainstthegriefofhisfriend,andtakingthehandsofEmmanuelandJulie,whichhepressedwithinhisown,hesaidwiththemildauthorityofafather,“Mykindfriends,leavemealonewithMaximilian.”
Juliesawthemeansofferedofcarryingoffherpreciousrelic,whichMonteCristohadforgotten.Shedrewherhusbandtothedoor.“Letusleavethem,”shesaid.
ThecountwasalonewithMorrel,whoremainedmotionlessasastatue.
“Come,”saidMonte–Cristo,touchinghisshoulderwithhisfinger,“areyouamanagain,Maximilian?”
“Yes;forIbegintosufferagain.”
Thecountfrowned,apparentlyingloomyhesitation.
“Maximilian,Maximilian,”hesaid,“theideasyouyieldtoareunworthyofaChristian.”
“Oh,donotfear,myfriend,”saidMorrel,raisinghishead,andsmilingwithasweetexpressiononthecount;“Ishallnolongerattemptmylife.”
“Thenwearetohavenomorepistols—nomoredespair?”
“No;Ihavefoundabetterremedyformygriefthaneitherabulletoraknife.”
“Poorfellow,whatisit?”
“Mygriefwillkillmeofitself.”
“Myfriend,”saidMonteCristo,withanexpressionofmelancholyequaltohisown,“listentome.
Oneday,inamomentofdespairlikeyours,sinceitledtoasimilarresolution,Ialsowishedtokillmyself;onedayyourfather,equallydesperate,wishedtokillhimselftoo.
Ifanyonehadsaidtoyourfather,atthemomentheraisedthepistoltohishead—ifanyonehadtoldme,wheninmyprisonIpushedbackthefoodIhadnottastedforthreedays—ifanyonehadsaidtoeitherofusthen,‘Live—thedaywillcomewhenyouwillbehappy,andwillblesslife!’
—nomatterwhosevoicehadspoken,weshouldhaveheardhimwiththesmileofdoubt,ortheanguishofincredulity,—andyethowmanytimeshasyourfatherblessedlifewhileembracingyou—howoftenhaveImyself”—
“Ah,”exclaimedMorrel,interruptingthecount,“youhadonlylostyourliberty,myfatherhadonlylosthisfortune,butIhavelostValentine.”
“Lookatme,”saidMonteCristo,withthatexpressionwhichsometimesmadehimsoeloquentandpersuasive—”lookatme.
Therearenotearsinmyeyes,noristherefeverinmyveins,yetIseeyousuffer—you,Maximilian,whomIloveasmyownson.
Well,doesnotthistellyouthatingrief,asinlife,thereisalwayssomethingtolookforwardtobeyond?
Now,ifIentreat,ifIorderyoutolive,Morrel,itisintheconvictionthatonedayyouwillthankmeforhavingpreservedyourlife.”
“Oh,heavens,”saidtheyoungman,“oh,heavens—whatareyousaying,count?Takecare.Butperhapsyouhaveneverloved!”
“Child!”repliedthecount.
“Imean,asIlove.Yousee,IhavebeenasoldiereversinceIattainedmanhood.
Ireachedtheageoftwenty–ninewithoutloving,fornoneofthefeelingsIbeforethenexperiencedmerittheappellationoflove.
Well,attwenty–nineIsawValentine;fortwoyearsIhavelovedher,fortwoyearsIhaveseenwritteninherheart,asinabook,allthevirtuesofadaughterandwife.
Count,topossessValentinewouldhavebeenahappinesstooinfinite,tooecstatic,toocomplete,toodivineforthisworld,sinceithasbeendeniedme;butwithoutValentinetheearthisdesolate.”
“Ihavetoldyoutohope,”saidthecount.
“Thenhaveacare,Irepeat,foryouseektopersuademe,andifyousucceedIshouldlosemyreason,forIshouldhopethatIcouldagainbeholdValentine.”Thecountsmiled.
“Myfriend,myfather,”saidMorrelwithexcitement,“haveacare,Iagainrepeat,forthepoweryouwieldovermealarmsme.
Weighyourwordsbeforeyouspeak,formyeyeshavealreadybecomebrighter,andmyheartbeatsstrongly;becautious,oryouwillmakemebelieveinsupernaturalagencies.
Imustobeyyou,thoughyoubademecallforththedeadorwalkuponthewater.”
“Hope,myfriend,”repeatedthecount.
“Ah,”saidMorrel,fallingfromtheheightofexcitementtotheabyssofdespair—”ah,youareplayingwithme,likethosegood,orratherselfishmotherswhosoothetheirchildrenwithhoneyedwords,becausetheirscreamsannoythem.
No,myfriend,Iwaswrongtocautionyou;donotfear,Iwillburymygriefsodeepinmyheart,Iwilldisguiseitso,thatyoushallnotevencaretosympathizewithme.Adieu,myfriend,adieu!”
“Onthecontrary,”saidthecount,“afterthistimeyoumustlivewithme—youmustnotleaveme,andinaweekweshallhaveleftFrancebehindus.”
“Andyoustillbidmehope?”
“Itellyoutohope,becauseIhaveamethodofcuringyou.”
“Count,yourendermesadderthanbefore,ifitbepossible.
Youthinktheresultofthisblowhasbeentoproduceanordinarygrief,andyouwouldcureitbyanordinaryremedy—changeofscene.”
AndMorreldroppedhisheadwithdisdainfulincredulity.“WhatcanIsaymore?”askedMonteCristo.
“IhaveconfidenceintheremedyIpropose,andonlyaskyoutopermitmetoassureyouofitsefficacy.”
“Count,youprolongmyagony.”
“Then,”saidthecount,“yourfeeblespiritwillnotevengrantmethetrialIrequest?
Come—doyouknowofwhattheCountofMonteCristoiscapable?
doyouknowthatheholdsterrestrialbeingsunderhiscontrol?nay,thathecanalmostworkamiracle?
Well,waitforthemiracleIhopetoaccomplish,or”—
“Or?”repeatedMorrel.
“Or,takecare,Morrel,lestIcallyouungrateful.”
“Havepityonme,count!”
“Ifeelsomuchpitytowardsyou,Maximilian,that—listentomeattentively—ifIdonotcureyouinamonth,totheday,totheveryhour,markmywords,Morrel,Iwillplaceloadedpistolsbeforeyou,andacupofthedeadliestItalianpoison—apoisonmoresureandpromptthanthatwhichhaskilledValentine.”
“Willyoupromiseme?”
“Yes;forIamaman,andhavesufferedlikeyourself,andalsocontemplatedsuicide;indeed,oftensincemisfortunehasleftmeIhavelongedforthedelightsofaneternalsleep.”
“Butyouaresureyouwillpromisemethis?”saidMorrel,intoxicated.“Inotonlypromise,butswearit!”saidMonteCristoextendinghishand.
“Inamonth,then,onyourhonor,ifIamnotconsoled,youwillletmetakemylifeintomyownhands,andwhatevermayhappenyouwillnotcallmeungrateful?”
“Inamonth,totheday,theveryhourandthedatearesacred,Maximilian.
Idonotknowwhetheryourememberthatthisisthe5thofSeptember;itistenyearsto–daysinceIsavedyourfather’slife,whowishedtodie.”
Morrelseizedthecount’shandandkissedit;thecountallowedhimtopaythehomagehefeltduetohim.
“Inamonthyouwillfindonthetable,atwhichweshallbethensitting,goodpistolsandadeliciousdraught;but,ontheotherhand,youmustpromisemenottoattemptyourlifebeforethattime.”
“Oh,Ialsoswearit!”MonteCristodrewtheyoungmantowardshim,andpressedhimforsometimetohisheart.
“Andnow,”hesaid,“afterto–day,youwillcomeandlivewithme;youcanoccupyHaidee’sapartment,andmydaughterwillatleastbereplacedbymyson.”
“Haidee?”saidMorrel,“whathasbecomeofher?”
“Shedepartedlastnight.”
“Toleaveyou?”
“Towaitforme.HoldyourselfreadythentojoinmeattheChampsElysees,andleadmeoutofthishousewithoutanyoneseeingmydeparture.”
Maximilianhunghishead,andobeyedwithchildlikereverence.
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