and drew forth two orders on the treasury for 500,000 francs each,
payable at sight to the bearer. A man like Danglars was wholly
inaccessible to any gentler method of correction. The effect of the
present revelation was stunning; he trembled and was on the verge
of apoplexy. The pupils of his eyes, as he gazed at Monte Cristo
dilated horribly.
"Come, come," said Monte Cristo, "confess honestly that you have
not perfect confidence in Thomson & French. I understand, and
foreseeing that such might be the case, I took, in spite of my
ignorance of affairs, certain precautions. See, here are two
similar letters to that you have yourself received; one from the
house of Arstein & Eskeles of Vienna, to Baron Rothschild, the
other drawn by Baring of London, upon M. Laffitte. Now, sir, you
have but to say the word, and I will spare you all uneasiness by
presenting my letter of credit to one or other of these two firms."
The blow had struck home, and Danglars was entirely vanquished;
with a trembling hand he took the two letters from the count, who
held them carelessly between finger and thumb, and proceeded to
scrutinize the signatures, with a minuteness that the count might
have regarded as insulting, had it not suited his present purpose
to mislead the banker. "Oh, sir," said Danglars, after he had
convinced himself of the authenticity of the documents he held, and
rising as if to salute the power of gold personified in the man
before him, — "three letters of unlimited credit! I can be no
longer mistrustful, but you must pardon me, my dear count, for
confessing to some degree of astonishment."
"Nay," answered Monte Cristo, with the most gentlemanly air,
"'tis not for such trifling sums as these that your banking house
is to be incommoded. Then, you can let me have some money, can you
not?"
"Whatever you say, my dear count; I am at your orders."
"Why," replied Monte Cristo, "since we mutually understand each
other — for such I presume is the case?" Danglars bowedother — for such I presume is the case?" Danglars bowed
assentingly. "You are quite sure that not a lurking doubt or
suspicion lingers in your mind?"
"Oh, my dear count," exclaimed Danglars, "I never for an instant
entertained such a feeling towards you."
"No, you merely wished to be convinced, nothing more; but now
that we have come to so clear an understanding, and that all
distrust and suspicion are laid at rest, we may as well fix a sum
as the probable expenditure of the first year, suppose we say six
millions to" —
"Six millions!" gasped Danglars — "so be it."
"Then, if I should require more," continued Monte Cristo in a
careless manner, "why, of course, I should draw upon you; but my
present intention is not to remain in France more than a year, and
during that period I scarcely think I shall exceed the sum I
mentioned. However, we shall see. Be kind enough, then, to send me
500,000 francs to-morrow. I shall be at home till midday, or if
not, I will leave a receipt with my steward."
"The money you desire shall be at your house by ten o'clock
to-morrow morning, my dear count," replied Danglars. "How would you
like to have it? in gold, silver, or notes?"
"Half in gold, and the other half in bank-notes, if you please,"
said the count, rising from his seat.
"I must confess to you, count," said Danglars, "that I have
hitherto imagined myself acquainted with the degree of all the
great fortunes of Europe, and still wealth such as yours has been
wholly unknown to me. May I presume to ask whether you have long
possessed it?"
"It has been in the family a very long while," returned Monte
Cristo, "a sort of treasure expressly forbidden to be touched for a
certain period of years, during which the accumulated interest has
doubled the capital. The period appointed by the testator for the
disposal of these riches occurred only a short time ago, and they
have only been employed by me within the last few years. Your
ignorance on the subject, therefore, is easily accounted for.ignorance on the subject, therefore, is easily accounted for.
However, you will be better informed as to me and my possessions
ere long." And the count, while pronouncing these latter words,
accompanied them with one of those ghastly smiles that used to
strike terror into poor Franz d'Epinay.
"With your tastes, and means of gratifying them," continued
Danglars, "you will exhibit a splendor that must effectually put us
poor miserable millionaires quite in the shade. If I mistake not
you are an admirer of paintings, at least I judged so from the
attention you appeared to be bestowing on mine when I entered the
room. If you will permit me, I shall be happy to show you my
picture gallery, composed entirely of works by the ancient masters
— warranted as such. Not a modern picture among them. I cannot
endure the modern school of painting."
"You are perfectly right in objecting to them, for this one
great fault — that they have not yet had time to become old."
"Or will you allow me to show you several fine statues by
Thorwaldsen, Bartoloni, and Canova? — all foreign artists, for, as
you may perceive, I think but very indifferently of our French
sculptors."
"You have a right to be unjust to them, monsieur; they are your
compatriots."
"But all this may come later, when we shall be better known to
each other. For the present, I will confine myself (if perfectly
agreeable to you) to introducing you to the Baroness Danglars —
excuse my impatience, my dear count, but a client like you is
almost like a member of the family." Monte Cristo bowed, in sign
that he accepted the proffered honor; Danglars rang and was
answered by a servant in a showy livery. "Is the baroness at home?"
inquired Danglars.
"Yes, my lord," answered the man.
"And alone?"
"No, my lord, madame has visitors."
"Have you any objection to meet any persons who may be with
madame, or do you desire to preserve a strict incognito?"
"No, indeed," replied Monte Cristo with a smile, "I do not
arrogate to myself the right of so doing."


arrogate to myself the right of so doing."
"And who is with madame? — M. Debray?" inquired Danglars, with
an air of indulgence and good-nature that made Monte Cristo smile,
acquainted as he was with the secrets of the banker's domestic
life.
"Yes, my lord," replied the servant, "M. Debray is with madame."
Danglars nodded his head; then, turning to Monte Cristo, said, "M.
Lucien Debray is an old friend of ours, and private secretary to
the Minister of the Interior. As for my wife, I must tell you, she
lowered herself by marrying me, for she belongs to one of the most
ancient families in France. Her maiden name was De Servieres, and
her first husband was Colonel the Marquis of Nargonne."
"I have not the honor of knowing Madame Danglars; but I have
already met M. Lucien Debray."
"Ah, indeed?" said Danglars; "and where was that?"
"At the house of M. de Morcerf."
"Ah, ha, you are acquainted with the young viscount, are
you?"
"We were together a good deal during the Carnival at Rome."
"True, true," cried Danglars. "Let me see; have I not heard talk
of some strange adventure with bandits or thieves hid in ruins, and
of his having had a miraculous escape? I forget how, but I know he
used to amuse my wife and daughter by telling them about it after
his return from Italy."
"Her ladyship is waiting to receive you, gentlemen," said the
servant, who had gone to inquire the pleasure of his mistress.
"With your permission," said Danglars, bowing, "I will precede you,
to show you the way."
"By all means," replied Monte Cristo; "I follow you."The baron, followed by the count, traversed a long series of
apartments, in which the prevailing characteristics were heavy
magnificence and the gaudiness of ostentatious wealth, until he
reached the boudoir of Madame Danglars — a small octagonal-shaped
room, hung with pink satin, covered with white Indian muslin. The
chairs were of ancient workmanship and materials; over the doors
were painted sketches of shepherds and shepherdesses, after the
style and manner of Boucher; and at each side pretty medallions in
crayons, harmonizing well with the furnishings of this charming
apartment, the only one throughout the great mansion in which any
distinctive taste prevailed. The truth was, it had been entirely
overlooked in the plan arranged and followed out by M. Danglars and
his architect, who had been selected to aid the baron in the great
work of improvement solely because he was the most fashionable and
celebrated decorator of the day. The decorations of the boudoir had
then been left entirely to Madame Danglars and Lucien Debray. M.
Danglars, however, while possessing a great admiration for the
antique, as it was understood during the time of the Directory,
entertained the most sovereign contempt for the simple elegance of
his wife's favorite sitting-room, where, by the way, he was never
permitted to intrude, unless, indeed, he excused his own appearance
by ushering in some more agreeable visitor than himself; and even
then he had rather the air and manner of a person who was himself
introduced, than that of being the presenter of another, his
reception being cordial or frigid, in proportion as the person who
accompanied him chanced to please or displease the baroness.
Madame Danglars (who, although past the first bloom of youth,
was still strikingly handsome) was now seated at the piano, a most
elaborate piece of cabinet and inlaid work, while Lucien Debray,
standing before a small work-table, was turning over the pages of
an album. Lucien had found time, preparatory to the count'san album. Lucien had found time, preparatory to the count's
arrival, to relate many particulars respecting him to Madame
Danglars. It will be remembered that Monte Cristo had made a lively
impression on the minds of all the party assembled at the breakfast
given by Albert de Morcerf; and although Debray was not in the
habit of yielding to such feelings, he had never been able to shake
off the powerful influence excited in his mind by the impressive
look and manner of the count, consequently the description given by
Lucien to the baroness bore the highly-colored tinge of his own
heated imagination. Already excited by the wonderful stories
related of the count by De Morcerf, it is no wonder that Madame
Danglars eagerly listened to, and fully credited, all the
additional circumstances detailed by Debray. This posing at the
piano and over the album was only a little ruse adopted by way of
precaution. A most gracious welcome and unusual smile were bestowed
on M. Danglars; the count, in return for his gentlemanly bow,
received a formal though graceful courtesy, while Lucien exchanged
with the count a sort of distant recognition, and with Danglars a
free and easy nod.
"Baroness," said Danglars, "give me leave to present to you the
Count of Monte Cristo, who has been most warmly recommended to me
by my correspondents at Rome. I need but mention one fact to make
all the ladies in Paris court his notice, and that is, that he has
come to take up his abode in Paris for a year, during which brief
period he proposes to spend six millions of money. That means
balls, dinners, and lawn parties without end, in all of which I
trust the count will remember us, as he may depend upon it we shall
him, in our own humble entertainments." In spite of the gross
flattery and coarseness of this address, Madame Danglars could not
forbear gazing with considerable interest on a man capable of
expending six millions in twelve months, and who had selected Paris
for the scene of his princely extravagance. "And when did you


for the scene of his princely extravagance. "And when did you
arrive here?" inquired she.
"Yesterday morning, madame."
"Coming, as usual, I presume, from the extreme end of the globe?
Pardon me — at least, such I have heard is your custom."
"Nay, madame. This time I have merely come from Cadiz."
"You have selected a most unfavorable moment for your first
visit. Paris is a horrible place in summer. Balls, parties, and
fetes are over; the Italian opera is in London; the French opera
everywhere except in Paris. As for the Theatre Francais, you know,
of course, that it is nowhere. The only amusements left us are the
indifferent races at the Champ de Mars and Satory. Do you propose
entering any horses at either of these races, count?"
"I shall do whatever they do at Paris, madame, if I have the
good fortune to find some one who will initiate me into the
prevalent ideas of amusement."
"Are you fond of horses, count?"
"I have passed a considerable part of my life in the East,
madame, and you are doubtless aware that the Orientals value only
two things — the fine breeding of their horses and the beauty of
their women."
"Nay, count," said the baroness, "it would have been somewhat
more gallant to have placed the ladies first."
"You see, madame, how rightly I spoke when I said I required a
preceptor to guide me in all my sayings and doings here." At this
instant the favorite attendant of Madame Danglars entered the
boudoir; approaching her mistress, she spoke some words in an
undertone. Madame Danglars turned very pale, then exclaimed, — "I
cannot believe it; the thing is impossible."
"I assure you, madame," replied the woman, "it is as I have
said." Turning impatiently towards her husband, Madame Danglars
demanded, "Is this true?"
"Is what true, madame?" inquired Danglars, visibly agitated.
"What my maid tells me."
"But what does she tell you?"
"That when my coachman was about to harness the horses to my
carriage, he discovered that they had been removed from the stablescarriage, he discovered that they had been removed from the stables
without his knowledge. I desire to know what is the meaning of
this?"
"Be kind enough, madame, to listen to me," said Danglars.
"Oh, yes; I will listen, monsieur, for I am most curious to hear
what explanation you will give. These two gentlemen shall decide
between us; but, first, I will state the case to them. Gentlemen,"
continued the baroness, "among the ten horses in the stables of
Baron Danglars, are two that belong exclusively to me — a pair of
the handsomest and most spirited creatures to be found in Paris.
But to you, at least, M. Debray, I need not give a further
description, because to you my beautiful pair of dappled grays were
well known. Well, I had promised Madame de Villefort the loan of my
carriage to drive to-morrow to the Bois; but when my coachman goes
to fetch the grays from the stables they are gone — positively
gone. No doubt M. Danglars has sacrificed them to the selfish
consideration of gaining some thousands of paltry francs. Oh, what
a detestable crew they are, these mercenary speculators!"
"Madame," replied Danglars, "the horses were not sufficiently
quiet for you; they were scarcely four years old, and they made me
extremely uneasy on your account."
"Nonsense," retorted the baroness; "you could not have
entertained any alarm on the subject, because you are perfectly
well aware that I have had for a month in my service the very best
coachman in Paris. But, perhaps, you have disposed of the coachman
as well as the horses?"
"My dear love, pray do not say any more about them, and I
promise you another pair exactly like them in appearance, only more
quiet and steady." The baroness shrugged her shoulders with an air
of ineffable contempt, while her husband, affecting not to observe
this unconjugal gesture, turned towards Monte Cristo and said, —
"Upon my word, count, I am quite sorry not to have met you sooner.
You are setting up an establishment, of course?"
"Why, yes," replied the count.You are setting up an establishment, of course?"
"Why, yes," replied the count.
"I should have liked to have made you the offer of these horses.
I have almost given them away, as it is; but, as I before said, I
was anxious to get rid of them upon any terms. They were only fit
for a young man."
"I am much obliged by your kind intentions towards me," said
Monte Cristo; "but this morning I purchased a very excellent pair
of carriage-horses, and I do not think they were dear. There they
are. Come, M. Debray, you are a connoisseur, I believe, let me have
your opinion upon them." As Debray walked towards the window,
Danglars approached his wife. "I could not tell you before others,"
said he in a low tone, "the reason of my parting with the horses;
but a most enormous price was offered me this morning for them.
Some madman or fool, bent upon ruining himself as fast as he can,
actually sent his steward to me to purchase them at any cost; and
the fact is, I have gained 16,000 francs by the sale of them. Come,
don't look so angry, and you shall have 4,000 francs of the money
to do what you like with, and Eugenie shall have 2,000. There, what
do you think now of the affair? Wasn't I right to part with the
horses?" Madame Danglars surveyed her husband with a look of
withering contempt.
"Great heavens?" suddenly exclaimed Debray.
"What is it?" asked the baroness.
"I cannot be mistaken; there are your horses! The very animals
we were speaking of, harnessed to the count's carriage!"
"My dappled grays?" demanded the baroness, springing to the
window. "'Tis indeed they!" said she. Danglars looked absolutely
stupefied. "How very singular," cried Monte Cristo with
well-feigned astonishment.
"I cannot believe it," murmured the banker. Madame Danglars
whispered a few words in the ear of Debray, who approached Monte
Cristo, saying, "The baroness wishes to know what you paid her
husband for the horses."
"I scarcely know," replied the count; "it was a little surprise
prepared for me by my steward, and cost me — well, somewhere about


prepared for me by my steward, and cost me — well, somewhere about
30,000 francs." Debray conveyed the count's reply to the baroness.
Poor Danglars looked so crest-fallen and discomfited that Monte
Cristo assumed a pitying air towards him. "See," said the count,
"how very ungrateful women are. Your kind attention, in providing
for the safety of the baroness by disposing of the horses, does not
seem to have made the least impression on her. But so it is; a
woman will often, from mere wilfulness, prefer that which is
dangerous to that which is safe. Therefore, in my opinion, my dear
baron, the best and easiest way is to leave them to their fancies,
and allow them to act as they please, and then, if any mischief
follows, why, at least, they have no one to blame but themselves."
Danglars made no reply; he was occupied in anticipations of the
coming scene between himself and the baroness, whose frowning brow,
like that of Olympic Jove, predicted a storm. Debray, who perceived
the gathering clouds, and felt no desire to witness the explosion
of Madame Danglars' rage, suddenly recollected an appointment,
which compelled him to take his leave; while Monte Cristo,
unwilling by prolonging his stay to destroy the advantages he hoped
to obtain, made a farewell bow and departed, leaving Danglars to
endure the angry reproaches of his wife.
"Excellent," murmured Monte Cristo to himself, as he came away.
"All has gone according to my wishes. The domestic peace of this
family is henceforth in my hands. Now, then, to play another
master-stroke, by which I shall gain the heart of both husband and
wife — delightful! Still," added he, "amid all this, I have not yet
been presented to Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars, whose acquaintance
I should have been glad to make. But," he went on with his peculiar
smile, "I am here in Paris, and have plenty of time before me — by
and by will do for that." With these reflections he entered his
carriage and returned home. Two hours afterwards, Madame Danglarscarriage and returned home. Two hours afterwards, Madame Danglars
received a most flattering epistle from the count, in which he
entreated her to receive back her favorite "dappled grays,"
protesting that he could not endure the idea of making his entry
into the Parisian world of fashion with the knowledge that his
splendid equipage had been obtained at the price of a lovely
woman's regrets. The horses were sent back wearing the same harness
she had seen on them in the morning; only, by the count's orders,
in the centre of each rosette that adorned either side of their
heads, had been fastened a large diamond.
To Danglars Monte Cristo also wrote, requesting him to excuse
the whimsical gift of a capricious millionaire, and to beg the
baroness to pardon the Eastern fashion adopted in the return of the
horses.
During the evening, Monte Cristo quitted Paris for Auteuil,
accompanied by Ali. The following day, about three o'clock, a
single blow struck on the gong summoned Ali to the presence of the
count. "Ali," observed his master, as the Nubian entered the
chamber, "you have frequently explained to me how more than
commonly skilful you are in throwing the lasso, have you not?" Ali
drew himself up proudly, and then returned a sign in the
affirmative. "I thought I did not mistake. With your lasso you
could stop an ox?" Again Ali repeated his affirmative gesture. "Or
a tiger?" Ali bowed his head in token of assent. "A lion even?" Ali
sprung forwards, imitating the action of one throwing the lasso,
then of a strangled lion.
"I understand," said Monte Cristo; "you wish to tell me you have
hunted the lion?" Ali smiled with triumphant pride as he signified
that he had indeed both chased and captured many lions. "But do you
believe you could arrest the progress of two horses rushing
forwards with ungovernable fury?" The Nubian smiled. "It is well,"
said Monte Cristo. "Then listen to me. Ere long a carriage will
dash past here, drawn by the pair of dappled gray horses you saw medash past here, drawn by the pair of dappled gray horses you saw me
with yesterday; now, at the risk of your own life, you must manage
to stop those horses before my door."
Ali descended to the street, and marked a straight line on the
pavement immediately at the entrance of the house, and then pointed
out the line he had traced to the count, who was watching him. The
count patted him gently on the shoulder, his usual mode of praising
Ali, who, pleased and gratified with the commission assigned him,
walked calmly towards a projecting stone forming the angle of the
street and house, and, seating himself thereon, began to smoke his
chibouque, while Monte Cristo re-entered his dwelling, perfectly
assured of the success of his plan. Still, as five o'clock
approached, and the carriage was momentarily expected by the count,
the indication of more than common impatience and uneasiness might
be observed in his manner. He stationed himself in a room
commanding a view of the street, pacing the chamber with restless
steps, stopping merely to listen from time to time for the sound of
approaching wheels, then to cast an anxious glance on Ali; but the
regularity with which the Nubian puffed forth the smoke of his
chibouque proved that he at least was wholly absorbed in the
enjoyment of his favorite occupation. Suddenly a distant sound of
rapidly advancing wheels was heard, and almost immediately a
carriage appeared, drawn by a pair of wild, ungovernable horses,
while the terrified coachman strove in vain to restrain their
furious speed.
In the vehicle was a young woman and a child of about seven or
eight clasped in each other's arms. Terror seemed to have deprived
them even of the power of uttering a cry. The carriage creaked and
rattled as it flew over the rough stones, and the slightest
obstacle under the wheels would have caused disaster; but it kept
on in the middle of the road, and those who saw it pass uttered
cries of terror.
Ali suddenly cast aside his chibouque, drew the lasso from his


cries of terror.
Ali suddenly cast aside his chibouque, drew the lasso from his
pocket, threw it so skilfully as to catch the forelegs of the near
horse in its triple fold, and suffered himself to be dragged on for
a few steps by the violence of the shock, then the animal fell over
on the pole, which snapped, and therefore prevented the other horse
from pursuing its way. Gladly availing himself of this opportunity,
the coachman leaped from his box; but Ali had promptly seized the
nostrils of the second horse, and held them in his iron grasp, till
the beast, snorting with pain, sunk beside his companion. All this
was achieved in much less time than is occupied in the recital. The
brief space had, however, been sufficient for a man, followed by a
number of servants, to rush from the house before which the
accident had occurred, and, as the coachman opened the door of the
carriage, to take from it a lady who was convulsively grasping the
cushions with one hand, while with the other she pressed to her
bosom the young boy, who had lost consciousness.
Monte Cristo carried them both to the salon, and deposited them
on a sofa. "Compose yourself, madame," said he; "all danger is
over." The woman looked up at these words, and, with a glance far
more expressive than any entreaties could have been, pointed to her
child, who still continued insensible. "I understand the nature of
your alarms, madame," said the count, carefully examining the
child, "but I assure you there is not the slightest occasion for
uneasiness; your little charge has not received the least injury;
his insensibility is merely the effects of terror, and will soon
pass."
"Are you quite sure you do not say so to tranquillize my fears?
See how deadly pale he is! My child, my darling Edward; speak to
your mother — open your dear eyes and look on me once again! Oh,
sir, in pity send for a physician; my whole fortune shall not be
thought too much for the recovery of my boy."
With a calm smile and a gentle wave of the hand, Monte CristoWith a calm smile and a gentle wave of the hand, Monte Cristo
signed to the distracted mother to lay aside her apprehensions;
then, opening a casket that stood near, he drew forth a phial of
Bohemian glass incrusted with gold, containing a liquid of the
color of blood, of which he let fall a single drop on the child's
lips. Scarcely had it reached them, ere the boy, though still pale
as marble, opened his eyes, and eagerly gazed around him. At this,
the delight of the mother was almost frantic. "Where am I?"
exclaimed she; "and to whom am I indebted for so happy a
termination to my late dreadful alarm?"
"Madame," answered the count, "you are under the roof of one who
esteems himself most fortunate in having been able to save you from
a further continuance of your sufferings."
"My wretched curiosity has brought all this about," pursued the
lady. "All Paris rung with the praises of Madame Danglars'
beautiful horses, and I had the folly to desire to know whether
they really merited the high praise given to them."
"Is it possible," exclaimed the count with well-feigned
astonishment, "that these horses belong to the baroness?"
"They do, indeed. May I inquire if you are acquainted with
Madame Danglars?"
"I have that honor; and my happiness at your escape from the
danger that threatened you is redoubled by the consciousness that I
have been the unwilling and the unintentional cause of all the
peril you have incurred. I yesterday purchased these horses of the
baron; but as the baroness evidently regretted parting with them, I
ventured to send them back to her, with a request that she would
gratify me by accepting them from my hands."
"You are, then, doubtless, the Count of Monte Cristo, of whom
Hermine has talked to me so much?"
"You have rightly guessed, madame," replied the count.
"And I am Madame Heloise de Villefort." The count bowed with the
air of a person who hears a name for the first time. "How grateful
will M. de Villefort be for all your goodness; how thankfully willwill M. de Villefort be for all your goodness; how thankfully will
he acknowledge that to you alone he owes the existence of his wife
and child! Most certainly, but for the prompt assistance of your
intrepid servant, this dear child and myself must both have
perished."
"Indeed, I still shudder at the fearful danger you were placed
in."
"I trust you will allow me to recompense worthily the devotion
of your man."
"I beseech you, madame," replied Monte Cristo "not to spoil Ali,
either by too great praise or rewards. I cannot allow him to
acquire the habit of expecting to be recompensed for every trifling
service he may render. Ali is my slave, and in saving your life he
was but discharging his duty to me."
"Nay," interposed Madame de Villefort, on whom the authoritative
style adopted by the count made a deep impression, "nay, but
consider that to preserve my life he has risked his own."
"His life, madame, belongs not to him; it is mine, in return for
my having myself saved him from death." Madame de Villefort made no
further reply; her mind was utterly absorbed in the contemplation
of the person who, from the first instant she saw him, had made so
powerful an impression on her. During the evident preoccupation of
Madame de Villefort, Monte Cristo scrutinized the features and
appearance of the boy she kept folded in her arms, lavishing on him
the most tender endearments. The child was small for his age, and
unnaturally pale. A mass of straight black hair, defying all
attempts to train or curl it, fell over his projecting forehead,
and hung down to his shoulders, giving increased vivacity to eyes
already sparkling with a youthful love of mischief and fondness for
every forbidden enjoyment. His mouth was large, and the lips, which
had not yet regained their color, were particularly thin; in fact,
the deep and crafty look, giving a predominant expression to the
child's face, belonged rather to a boy of twelve or fourteen than
to one so young. His first movement was to free himself by a


to one so young. His first movement was to free himself by a
violent push from the encircling arms of his mother, and to rush
forward to the casket from whence the count had taken the phial of
elixir; then, without asking permission of any one, he proceeded,
in all the wilfulness of a spoiled child unaccustomed to restrain
either whims or caprices, to pull the corks out of all the
bottles.
"Touch nothing, my little friend," cried the count eagerly;
"some of those liquids are not only dangerous to taste, but even to
inhale."
Madame de Villefort became very pale, and, seizing her son's
arm, drew him anxiously toward her; but, once satisfied of his
safety, she also cast a brief but expressive glance on the casket,
which was not lost upon the count. At this moment Ali entered. At
sight of him Madame de Villefort uttered an expression of pleasure,
and, holding the child still closer towards her, she said, "Edward,
dearest, do you see that good man? He has shown very great courage
and resolution, for he exposed his own life to stop the horses that
were running away with us, and would certainly have dashed the
carriage to pieces. Thank him, then, my child, in your very best
manner; for, had he not come to our aid, neither you nor I would
have been alive to speak our thanks." The child stuck out his lips
and turned away his head in a disdainful manner, saying, "He's too
ugly."
The count smiled as if the child bade fair to realize his hopes,
while Madame de Villefort reprimanded her son with a gentleness and
moderation very far from conveying the least idea of a fault having
been committed. "This lady," said the Count, speaking to Ali in the
Arabic language, "is desirous that her son should thank you for
saving both their lives; but the boy refuses, saying you are too
ugly." Ali turned his intelligent countenance towards the boy, on
whom he gazed without any apparent emotion; but the spasmodic
working of the nostrils showed to the practiced eye of Monte Cristo
that the Arab had been wounded to the heart.that the Arab had been wounded to the heart.
"Will you permit me to inquire," said Madame de Villefort, as
she arose to take her leave, "whether you usually reside here?"
"No, I do not," replied Monte Cristo; "it is a small place I
have purchased quite lately. My place of abode is No. 30, Avenue
des Champs Elysees; but I see you have quite recovered from your
fright, and are, no doubt, desirous of returning home. Anticipating
your wishes, I have desired the same horses you came with to be put
to one of my carriages, and Ali, he whom you think so very ugly,"
continued he, addressing the boy with a smiling air, "will have the
honor of driving you home, while your coachman remains here to
attend to the necessary repairs of your calash. As soon as that
important business is concluded, I will have a pair of my own
horses harnessed to convey it direct to Madame Danglars."
"I dare not return with those dreadful horses," said Madame de
Villefort.
"You will see," replied Monte Cristo, "that they will be as
different as possible in the hands of Ali. With him they will be
gentle and docile as lambs." Ali had, indeed, given proof of this;
for, approaching the animals, who had been got upon their legs with
considerable difficulty, he rubbed their foreheads and nostrils
with a sponge soaked in aromatic vinegar, and wiped off the sweat
and foam that covered their mouths. Then, commencing a loud
whistling noise, he rubbed them well all over their bodies for
several minutes; then, undisturbed by the noisy crowd collected
round the broken carriage, Ali quietly harnessed the pacified
animals to the count's chariot, took the reins in his hands, and
mounted the box, when to the utter astonishment of those who had
witnessed the ungovernable spirit and maddened speed of the same
horses, he was actually compelled to apply his whip in no very
gentle manner before he could induce them to start; and even then
all that could be obtained from the celebrated "dappled grays," nowall that could be obtained from the celebrated "dappled grays," now
changed into a couple of dull, sluggish, stupid brutes, was a slow,
pottering pace, kept up with so much difficulty that Madame de
Villefort was more than two hours returning to her residence in the
Faubourg St. Honore.
Scarcely had the first congratulations upon her marvellous
escape been gone through when she wrote the following letter to
Madame Danglars: —
Dear Hermine, — I have just had a wonderful escape from the most
imminent danger, and I owe my safety to the very Count of Monte
Cristo we were talking about yesterday, but whom I little expected
to see to-day. I remember how unmercifully I laughed at what I
considered your eulogistic and exaggerated praises of him; but I
have now ample cause to admit that your enthusiastic description of
this wonderful man fell far short of his merits. Your horses got as
far as Ranelagh, when they darted forward like mad things, and
galloped away at so fearful a rate, that there seemed no other
prospect for myself and my poor Edward but that of being dashed to
pieces against the first object that impeded their progress, when a
strange-looking man, — an Arab, a negro, or a Nubian, at least a
black of some nation or other — at a signal from the count, whose
domestic he is, suddenly seized and stopped the infuriated animals,
even at the risk of being trampled to death himself; and certainly
he must have had a most wonderful escape. The count then hastened
to us, and took us into his house, where he speedily recalled my
poor Edward to life. He sent us home in his own carriage. Yours
will be returned to you to-morrow. You will find your horses in bad
condition, from the results of this accident; they seem thoroughly
stupefied, as if sulky and vexed at having been conquered by man.
The count, however, his commissioned me to assure you that two or
three days' rest, with plenty of barley for their sole food during
that time, will bring them back to as fine, that is as terrifying,


that time, will bring them back to as fine, that is as terrifying,
a condition as they were in yesterday. Adieu! I cannot return you
many thanks for the drive of yesterday; but, after all, I ought not
to blame you for the misconduct of your horses, more especially as
it procured me the pleasure of an introduction to the Count of
Monte Cristo, — and certainly that illustrious personage, apart
from the millions he is said to be so very anxious to dispose of,
seemed to me one of those curiously interesting problems I, for
one, delight in solving at any risk, even if it were to necessitate
another drive to the Bois behind your horses. Edward endured the
accident with miraculous courage — he did not utter a single cry,
but fell lifeless into my arms; nor did a tear fall from his eyes
after it was over. I doubt not you will consider these praises the
result of blind maternal affection, but there is a soul of iron in
that delicate, fragile body. Valentine sends many affectionate
remembrances to your dear Eugenie. I embrace you with all my
heart.
Heloise de Villefort.
P.S. — Do pray contrive some means for me to meet the Count of
Monte Cristo at your house. I must and will see him again. I have
just made M. de Villefort promise to call on him, and I hope the
visit will be returned.
That night the adventure at Auteuil was talked of everywhere.
Albert related it to his mother; Chateau-Renaud recounted it at the
Jockey Club, and Debray detailed it at length in the salons of the
minister; even Beauchamp accorded twenty lines in his journal to
the relation of the count's courage and gallantry, thereby
celebrating him as the greatest hero of the day in the eyes of all
the feminine members of the aristocracy. Vast was the crowd of
visitors and inquiring friends who left their names at the
residence of Madame de Villefort, with the design of renewing their
visit at the right moment, of hearing from her lips all the
interesting circumstances of this most romantic adventure. As forinteresting circumstances of this most romantic adventure. As for
M. de Villefort, he fulfilled the predictions of Heloise to the
letter, — donned his dress suit, drew on a pair of white gloves,
ordered the servants to attend the carriage dressed in their full
livery, and drove that same night to No. 30 in the Avenue des
Champs-Elysees.If the Count of Monte Cristo had been for a long time familiar
with the ways of Parisian society, he would have appreciated better
the significance of the step which M. de Villefort had taken.
Standing well at court, whether the king regnant was of the older
or younger branch, whether the government was doctrinaire liberal,
or conservative; looked upon by all as a man of talent, since those
who have never experienced a political check are generally so
regarded; hated by many, but warmly supported by others, without
being really liked by anybody, M. de Villefort held a high position
in the magistracy, and maintained his eminence like a Harlay or a
Mole. His drawing-room, under the regenerating influence of a young
wife and a daughter by his first marriage, scarcely eighteen, was
still one of the well-regulated Paris salons where the worship of
traditional customs and the observance of rigid etiquette were
carefully maintained. A freezing politeness, a strict fidelity to
government principles, a profound contempt for theories and
theorists, a deep-seated hatred of ideality, — these were the
elements of private and public life displayed by M. de
Villefort.
He was not only a magistrate, he was almost a diplomatist. His
relations with the former court, of which he always spoke with
dignity and respect, made him respected by the new one, and he knew
so many things, that not only was he always carefully considered,
but sometimes consulted. Perhaps this would not have been so had it
been possible to get rid of M. de Villefort; but, like the feudal
barons who rebelled against their sovereign, he dwelt in an
impregnable fortress. This fortress was his post as king's
attorney, all the advantages of which he exploited with marvellous
skill, and which he would not have resigned but to be made deputy,
and thus to replace neutrality by opposition. Ordinarily M. de
Villefort made and returned very few visits. His wife visited for
him, and this was the received thing in the world, where thehim, and this was the received thing in the world, where the
weighty and multifarious occupations of the magistrate were
accepted as an excuse for what was really only calculated pride, a
manifestation of professed superiority — in fact, the application
of the axiom, "Pretend to think well of yourself, and the world
will think well of you," an axiom a hundred times more useful in
society nowadays than that of the Greeks, "Know thyself," a
knowledge for which, in our days, we have substituted the less
difficult and more advantageous science of knowing others.
To his friends M. de Villefort was a powerful protector; to his
enemies, he was a silent, but bitter opponent; for those who were
neither the one nor the other, he was a statue of the law-made man.
He had a haughty bearing, a look either steady and impenetrable or
insolently piercing and inquisitorial. Four successive revolutions
had built and cemented the pedestal upon which his fortune was
based. M. de Villefort had the reputation of being the least
curious and the least wearisome man in France. He gave a ball every
year, at which he appeared for a quarter of an hour only, — that is
to say, five and forty minutes less than the king is visible at his
balls. He was never seen at the theatres, at concerts, or in any
place of public resort. Occasionally, but seldom, he played at
whist, and then care was taken to select partners worthy of him —
sometimes they were ambassadors, sometimes archbishops, or
sometimes a prince, or a president, or some dowager duchess. Such
was the man whose carriage had just now stopped before the Count of
Monte Cristo's door. The valet de chambre announced M. de Villefort
at the moment when the count, leaning over a large table, was
tracing on a map the route from St. Petersburg to China.
The procureur entered with the same grave and measured step he
would have employed in entering a court of justice. He was the same
man, or rather the development of the same man, whom we have


man, or rather the development of the same man, whom we have
heretofore seen as assistant attorney at Marseilles. Nature,
according to her way, had made no deviation in the path he had
marked out for himself. From being slender he had now become
meagre; once pale, he was now yellow; his deep-set eyes were
hollow, and the gold spectacles shielding his eyes seemed to be an
integral portion of his face. He dressed entirely in black, with
the exception of his white tie, and his funeral appearance was only
mitigated by the slight line of red ribbon which passed almost
imperceptibly through his button-hole, and appeared like a streak
of blood traced with a delicate brush. Although master of himself,
Monte Cristo, scrutinized with irrepressible curiosity the
magistrate whose salute he returned, and who, distrustful by habit,
and especially incredulous as to social prodigies, was much more
despised to look upon "the noble stranger," as Monte Cristo was
already called, as an adventurer in search of new fields, or an
escaped criminal, rather than as a prince of the Holy See, or a
sultan of the Thousand and One Nights.
"Sir," said Villefort, in the squeaky tone assumed by
magistrates in their oratorical periods, and of which they cannot,
or will not, divest themselves in society, "sir, the signal service
which you yesterday rendered to my wife and son has made it a duty
for me to offer you my thanks. I have come, therefore, to discharge
this duty, and to express to you my overwhelming gratitude." And as
he said this, the "eye severe" of the magistrate had lost nothing
of its habitual arrogance. He spoke in a voice of the
procureur-general, with the rigid inflexibility of neck and
shoulders which caused his flatterers to say (as we have before
observed) that he was the living statue of the law.
"Monsieur," replied the count, with a chilling air, "I am very
happy to have been the means of preserving a son to his mother, for
they say that the sentiment of maternity is the most holy of all;they say that the sentiment of maternity is the most holy of all;
and the good fortune which occurred to me, monsieur, might have
enabled you to dispense with a duty which, in its discharge,
confers an undoubtedly great honor; for I am aware that M. de
Villefort is not usually lavish of the favor which he now bestows
on me, — a favor which, however estimable, is unequal to the
satisfaction which I have in my own consciousness." Villefort,
astonished at this reply, which he by no means expected, started
like a soldier who feels the blow levelled at him over the armor he
wears, and a curl of his disdainful lip indicated that from that
moment he noted in the tablets of his brain that the Count of Monte
Cristo was by no means a highly bred gentleman. He glanced around.
in order to seize on something on which the conversation might
turn, and seemed to fall easily on a topic. He saw the map which
Monte Cristo had been examining when he entered, and said, "You
seem geographically engaged, sir? It is a rich study for you, who,
as I learn, have seen as many lands as are delineated on this
map."
"Yes, sir," replied the count; "I have sought to make of the
human race, taken in the mass, what you practice every day on
individuals — a physiological study. I have believed it was much
easier to descend from the whole to a part than to ascend from a
part to the whole. It is an algebraic axiom, which makes us proceed
from a known to an unknown quantity, and not from an unknown to a
known; but sit down, sir, I beg of you."
Monte Cristo pointed to a chair, which the procureur was obliged
to take the trouble to move forwards himself, while the count
merely fell back into his own, on which he had been kneeling when
M. Villefort entered. Thus the count was halfway turned towards his
visitor, having his back towards the window, his elbow resting on
the geographical chart which furnished the theme of conversation
for the moment, — a conversation which assumed, as in the case offor the moment, — a conversation which assumed, as in the case of
the interviews with Danglars and Morcerf, a turn analogous to the
persons, if not to the situation. "Ah, you philosophize," replied
Villefort, after a moment's silence, during which, like a wrestler
who encounters a powerful opponent, he took breath; "well, sir,
really, if, like you, I had nothing else to do, I should seek a
more amusing occupation."
"Why, in truth, sir," was Monte Cristo's reply, "man is but an
ugly caterpillar for him who studies him through a solar
microscope; but you said, I think, that I had nothing else to do.
Now, really, let me ask, sir, have you? — do you believe you have
anything to do? or to speak in plain terms, do you really think
that what you do deserves being called anything?"
Villefort's astonishment redoubled at this second thrust so
forcibly made by his strange adversary. It was a long time since
the magistrate had heard a paradox so strong, or rather, to say the
truth more exactly, it was the first time he had ever heard of it.
The procureur exerted himself to reply. "Sir," he responded, "you
are a stranger, and I believe you say yourself that a portion of
your life has been spent in Oriental countries, so you are not
aware how human justice, so expeditions in barbarous countries,
takes with us a prudent and well-studied course."
"Oh, yes — yes, I do, sir; it is the pede claudo of the
ancients. I know all that, for it is with the justice of all
countries especially that I have occupied myself — it is with the
criminal procedure of all nations that I have compared natural
justice, and I must say, sir, that it is the law of primitive
nations, that is, the law of retaliation, that I have most
frequently found to be according to the law of God."
"If this law were adopted, sir," said the procureur, "it would
greatly simplify our legal codes, and in that case the magistrates
would not (as you just observed) have much to do."
"It may, perhaps, come to this in time," observed Monte Cristo;


"It may, perhaps, come to this in time," observed Monte Cristo;
"you know that human inventions march from the complex to the
simple, and simplicity is always perfection."
"In the meanwhile," continued the magistrate, "our codes are in
full force, with all their contradictory enactments derived from
Gallic customs, Roman laws, and Frank usages; the knowledge of all
which, you will agree, is not to be acquired without extended
labor; it needs tedious study to acquire this knowledge, and, when
acquired, a strong power of brain to retain it."
"I agree with you entirely, sir; but all that even you know with
respect to the French code, I know, not only in reference to that
code, but as regards the codes of all nations. The English,
Turkish, Japanese, Hindu laws, are as familiar to me as the French
laws, and thus I was right, when I said to you, that relatively
(you know that everything is relative, sir) — that relatively to
what I have done, you have very little to do; but that relatively
to all I have learned, you have yet a great deal to learn."
"But with what motive have you learned all this?" inquired
Villefort, in astonishment. Monte Cristo smiled. "Really, sir," he
observed, "I see that in spite of the reputation which you have
acquired as a superior man, you look at everything from the
material and vulgar view of society, beginning with man, and ending
with man — that is to say, in the most restricted, most narrow view
which it is possible for human understanding to embrace."
"Pray, sir, explain yourself," said Villefort, more and more
astonished, "I really do — not — understand you — perfectly."
"I say, sir, that with the eyes fixed on the social organization
of nations, you see only the springs of the machine, and lose sight
of the sublime workman who makes them act; I say that you do not
recognize before you and around you any but those office-holders
whose commissions have been signed by a minister or king; and that
the men whom God has put above those office-holders, ministers, andthe men whom God has put above those office-holders, ministers, and
kings, by giving them a mission to follow out, instead of a post to
fill — I say that they escape your narrow, limited field of
observation. It is thus that human weakness fails, from its
debilitated and imperfect organs. Tobias took the angel who
restored him to light for an ordinary young man. The nations took
Attila, who was doomed to destroy them, for a conqueror similar to
other conquerors, and it was necessary for both to reveal their
missions, that they might be known and acknowledged; one was
compelled to say, `I am the angel of the Lord'; and the other, `I
am the hammer of God,' in order that the divine essence in both
might be revealed."
"Then," said Villefort, more and more amazed, and really
supposing he was speaking to a mystic or a madman, "you consider
yourself as one of those extraordinary beings whom you have
mentioned?"
"And why not?" said Monte Cristo coldly.
"Your pardon, sir," replied Villefort, quite astounded, "but you
will excuse me if, when I presented myself to you, I was unaware
that I should meet with a person whose knowledge and understanding
so far surpass the usual knowledge and understanding of men. It is
not usual with us corrupted wretches of civilization to find
gentlemen like yourself, possessors, as you are, of immense fortune
— at least, so it is said — and I beg you to observe that I do not
inquire, I merely repeat; — it is not usual, I say, for such
privileged and wealthy beings to waste their time in speculations
on the state of society, in philosophical reveries, intended at
best to console those whom fate has disinherited from the goods of
this world."
"Really, sir," retorted the count, "have you attained the
eminent situation in which you are, without having admitted, or
even without having met with exceptions? and do you never use your
eyes, which must have acquired so much finesse and certainty, to
divine, at a glance, the kind of man by whom you are confronted?divine, at a glance, the kind of man by whom you are confronted?
Should not a magistrate be not merely the best administrator of the
law, but the most crafty expounder of the chicanery of his
profession, a steel probe to search hearts, a touchstone to try the
gold which in each soul is mingled with more or less of alloy?"
"Sir," said Villefort, "upon my word, you overcome me. I really
never heard a person speak as you do."
"Because you remain eternally encircled in a round of general
conditions, and have never dared to raise your wings into those
upper spheres which God has peopled with invisible or exceptional
beings."
"And you allow then, sir, that spheres exist, and that these
marked and invisible beings mingle amongst us?"
"Why should they not? Can you see the air you breathe, and yet
without which you could not for a moment exist?"
"Then we do not see those beings to whom you allude?"
"Yes, we do; you see them whenever God pleases to allow them to
assume a material form. You touch them, come in contact with them,
speak to them, and they reply to you."
"Ah," said Villefort, smiling, "I confess I should like to be
warned when one of these beings is in contact with me."
"You have been served as you desire, monsieur, for you were
warned just now, and I now again warn you."
"Then you yourself are one of these marked beings?"
"Yes, monsieur, I believe so; for until now, no man has found
himself in a position similar to mine. The dominions of kings are
limited either by mountains or rivers, or a change of manners, or
an alteration of language. My kingdom is bounded only by the world,
for I am not an Italian, or a Frenchman, or a Hindu, or an
American, or a Spaniard — I am a cosmopolite. No country can say it
saw my birth. God alone knows what country will see me die. I adopt
all customs, speak all languages. You believe me to be a Frenchman,
for I speak French with the same facility and purity as yourself.
Well, Ali, my Nubian, believes me to be an Arab; Bertuccio, my


Well, Ali, my Nubian, believes me to be an Arab; Bertuccio, my
steward, takes me for a Roman; Haidee, my slave, thinks me a Greek.
You may, therefore, comprehend, that being of no country, asking no
protection from any government, acknowledging no man as my brother,
not one of the scruples that arrest the powerful, or the obstacles
which paralyze the weak, paralyzes or arrests me. I have only two
adversaries — I will not say two conquerors, for with perseverance
I subdue even them, — they are time and distance. There is a third,
and the most terrible — that is my condition as a mortal being.
This alone can stop me in my onward career, before I have attained
the goal at which I aim, for all the rest I have reduced to
mathematical terms. What men call the chances of fate — namely,
ruin, change, circumstances — I have fully anticipated, and if any
of these should overtake me, yet it will not overwhelm me. Unless I
die, I shall always be what I am, and therefore it is that I utter
the things you have never heard, even from the mouths of kings —
for kings have need, and other persons have fear of you. For who is
there who does not say to himself, in a society as incongruously
organized as ours, `Perhaps some day I shall have to do with the
king's attorney'?"
"But can you not say that, sir? The moment you become an
inhabitant of France, you are naturally subjected to the French
law."
"I know it sir," replied Monte Cristo; "but when I visit a
country I begin to study, by all the means which are available, the
men from whom I may have anything to hope or to fear, till I know
them as well as, perhaps better than, they know themselves. It
follows from this, that the king's attorney, be he who he may, with
whom I should have to deal, would assuredly be more embarrassed
than I should."
"That is to say," replied Villefort with hesitation, "that human
nature being weak, every man, according to your creed, has
committed faults."
"Faults or crimes," responded Monte Cristo with a negligent
air.committed faults."
"Faults or crimes," responded Monte Cristo with a negligent
air.
"And that you alone, amongst the men whom you do not recognize
as your brothers — for you have said so," observed Villefort in a
tone that faltered somewhat — "you alone are perfect."
"No, not perfect," was the count's reply; "only impenetrable,
that's all. But let us leave off this strain, sir, if the tone of
it is displeasing to you; I am no more disturbed by your justice
than are you by my second-sight."
"No, no, — by no means," said Villefort, who was afraid of
seeming to abandon his ground. "No; by your brilliant and almost
sublime conversation you have elevated me above the ordinary level;
we no longer talk, we rise to dissertation. But you know how the
theologians in their collegiate chairs, and philosophers in their
controversies, occasionally say cruel truths; let us suppose for
the moment that we are theologizing in a social way, or even
philosophically, and I will say to you, rude as it may seem, `My
brother, you sacrifice greatly to pride; you may be above others,
but above you there is God.'"
"Above us all, sir," was Monte Cristo's response, in a tone and
with an emphasis so deep that Villefort involuntarily shuddered. "I
have my pride for men — serpents always ready to threaten every one
who would pass without crushing them under foot. But I lay aside
that pride before God, who has taken me from nothing to make me
what I am."
"Then, count, I admire you," said Villefort, who, for the first
time in this strange conversation, used the aristocratic form to
the unknown personage, whom, until now, he had only called
monsieur. "Yes, and I say to you, if you are really strong, really
superior, really pious, or impenetrable, which you were right in
saying amounts to the same thing — then be proud, sir, for that is
the characteristic of predominance. Yet you have unquestionably
some ambition."
"I have, sir."
"And what may it be?"
"I too, as happens to every man once in his life, have been"I have, sir."
"And what may it be?"
"I too, as happens to every man once in his life, have been
taken by Satan into the highest mountain in the earth, and when
there he showed me all the kingdoms of the world, and as he said
before, so said he to me, `Child of earth, what wouldst thou have
to make thee adore me?' I reflected long, for a gnawing ambition
had long preyed upon me, and then I replied, `Listen, — I have
always heard of providence, and yet I have never seen him, or
anything that resembles him, or which can make me believe that he
exists. I wish to be providence myself, for I feel that the most
beautiful, noblest, most sublime thing in the world, is to
recompense and punish.' Satan bowed his head, and groaned. `You
mistake,' he said, `providence does exist, only you have never seen
him, because the child of God is as invisible as the parent. You
have seen nothing that resembles him, because he works by secret
springs, and moves by hidden ways. All I can do for you is to make
you one of the agents of that providence.' The bargain was
concluded. I may sacrifice my soul, but what matters it?" added
Monte Cristo. "If the thing were to do again, I would again do it."
Villefort looked at Monte Cristo with extreme amazement. "Count,"
he inquired, "have you any relations?"
"No, sir, I am alone in the world."
"So much the worse."
"Why?" asked Monte Cristo.
"Because then you might witness a spectacle calculated to break
down your pride. You say you fear nothing but death?"
"I did not say that I feared it; I only said that death alone
could check the execution of my plans."
"And old age?"
"My end will be achieved before I grow old."
"And madness?"
"I have been nearly mad; and you know the axiom, — non bis in
idem. It is an axiom of criminal law, and, consequently, you
understand its full application."
"Sir," continued Villefort, "there is something to fear besides
death, old age, and madness. For instance, there is apoplexy — that
lightning-stroke which strikes but does not destroy you, and yet


lightning-stroke which strikes but does not destroy you, and yet
which brings everything to an end. You are still yourself as now,
and yet you are yourself no longer; you who, like Ariel, verge on
the angelic, are but an inert mass, which, like Caliban, verges on
the brutal; and this is called in human tongues, as I tell you,
neither more nor less than apoplexy. Come, if so you will, count,
and continue this conversation at my house, any day you may be
willing to see an adversary capable of understanding and anxious to
refute you, and I will show you my father, M. Noirtier de
Villefort, one of the most fiery Jacobins of the French Revolution;
that is to say, he had the most remarkable audacity, seconded by a
most powerful organization — a man who has not, perhaps, like
yourself seen all the kingdoms of the earth, but who has helped to
overturn one of the greatest; in fact, a man who believed himself,
like you, one of the envoys, not of God, but of a supreme being;
not of providence, but of fate. Well, sir, the rupture of a
blood-vessel on the lobe of the brain has destroyed all this, not
in a day, not in an hour, but in a second. M. Noirtier, who, on the
previous night, was the old Jacobin, the old senator, the old
Carbonaro, laughing at the guillotine, the cannon, and the dagger —
M. Noirtier, playing with revolutions — M. Noirtier, for whom
France was a vast chess-board, from which pawns, rooks, knights,
and queens were to disappear, so that the king was checkmated — M.
Noirtier, the redoubtable, was the next morning `poor M. Noirtier,'
the helpless old man, at the tender mercies of the weakest creature
in the household, that is, his grandchild, Valentine; a dumb and
frozen carcass, in fact, living painlessly on, that time may be
given for his frame to decompose without his consciousness of its
decay."
"Alas, sir," said Monte Cristo "this spectacle is neither
strange to my eye nor my thought. I am something of a physician,
and have, like my fellows, sought more than once for the soul inand have, like my fellows, sought more than once for the soul in
living and in dead matter; yet, like providence, it has remained
invisible to my eyes, although present to my heart. A hundred
writers since Socrates, Seneca, St. Augustine, and Gall, have made,
in verse and prose, the comparison you have made, and yet I can
well understand that a father's sufferings may effect great changes
in the mind of a son. I will call on you, sir, since you bid me
contemplate, for the advantage of my pride, this terrible
spectacle, which must have been so great a source of sorrow to your
family."
"It would have been so unquestionably, had not God given me so
large a compensation. In contrast with the old man, who is dragging
his way to the tomb, are two children just entering into life —
Valentine, the daughter by my first wife — Mademoiselle Renee de
Saint-Meran — and Edward, the boy whose life you have this day
saved."
"And what is your deduction from this compensation, sir?"
inquired Monte Cristo.
"My deduction is," replied Villefort, "that my father, led away
by his passions, has committed some fault unknown to human justice,
but marked by the justice of God. That God, desirous in his mercy
to punish but one person, has visited this justice on him alone."
Monte Cristo with a smile on his lips, uttered in the depths of his
soul a groan which would have made Villefort fly had he but heard
it. "Adieu, sir," said the magistrate, who had risen from his seat;
"I leave you, bearing a remembrance of you — a remembrance of
esteem, which I hope will not be disagreeable to you when you know
me better; for I am not a man to bore my friends, as you will
learn. Besides, you have made an eternal friend of Madame de
Villefort." The count bowed, and contented himself with seeing
Villefort to the door of his cabinet, the procureur being escorted
to his carriage by two footmen, who, on a signal from their master,
followed him with every mark of attention. When he had gone, Monte
Cristo breathed a profound sigh, and said, — "Enough of thisCristo breathed a profound sigh, and said, — "Enough of this
poison, let me now seek the antidote." Then sounding his bell, he
said to Ali, who entered, "I am going to madam's chamber — have the
carriage ready at one o'clock."It will be recollected that the new, or rather old,
acquaintances of the Count of Monte Cristo, residing in the Rue
Meslay, were no other than Maximilian, Julie, and Emmanuel. The
very anticipations of delight to be enjoyed in his forthcoming
visits — the bright, pure gleam of heavenly happiness it diffused
over the almost deadly warfare in which he had voluntarily engaged,
illumined his whole countenance with a look of ineffable joy and
calmness, as, immediately after Villefort's departure, his thoughts
flew back to the cheering prospect before him, of tasting, at
least, a brief respite from the fierce and stormy passions of his
mind. Even Ali, who had hastened to obey the Count's summons, went
forth from his master's presence in charmed amazement at the
unusual animation and pleasure depicted on features ordinarily so
stern and cold; while, as though dreading to put to flight the
agreeable ideas hovering over his patron's meditations, whatever
they were, the faithful Nubian walked on tiptoe towards the door,
holding his breath, lest its faintest sound should dissipate his
master's happy reverie.
It was noon, and Monte Cristo had set apart one hour to be
passed in the apartments of Haidee, as though his oppressed spirit
could not all at once admit the feeling of pure and unmixed joy,
but required a gradual succession of calm and gentle emotions to
prepare his mind to receive full and perfect happiness, in the same
manner as ordinary natures demand to be inured by degrees to the
reception of strong or violent sensations. The young Greek, as we
have already said, occupied apartments wholly unconnected with
those of the count. The rooms had been fitted up in strict
accordance with Oriental ideas; the floors were covered with the
richest carpets Turkey could produce; the walls hung with brocaded
silk of the most magnificent designs and texture; while around each
chamber luxurious divans were placed, with piles of soft and
yielding cushions, that needed only to be arranged at the pleasure


yielding cushions, that needed only to be arranged at the pleasure
or convenience of such as sought repose. Haidee and three French
maids, and one who was a Greek. The first three remained constantly
in a small waiting-room, ready to obey the summons of a small
golden bell, or to receive the orders of the Romaic slave, who knew
just enough French to be able to transmit her mistress's wishes to
the three other waiting-women; the latter had received most
peremptory instructions from Monte Cristo to treat Haidee with all
the deference they would observe to a queen.
The young girl herself generally passed her time in the chamber
at the farther end of her apartments. This was a sort of boudoir,
circular, and lighted only from the roof, which consisted of
rose-colored glass. Haidee was reclining upon soft downy cushions,
covered with blue satin spotted with silver; her head, supported by
one of her exquisitely moulded arms, rested on the divan
immediately behind her, while the other was employed in adjusting
to her lips the coral tube of a rich narghile, through whose
flexible pipe she drew the smoke fragrant by its passage through
perfumed water. Her attitude, though perfectly natural for an
Eastern woman would, in a European, have been deemed too full of
coquettish straining after effect. Her dress, which was that of the
women of Epirus, consisted of a pair of white satin trousers,
embroidered with pink roses, displaying feet so exquisitely formed
and so delicately fair, that they might well have been taken for
Parian marble, had not the eye been undeceived by their movements
as they constantly shifted in and out of a pair of little slippers
with upturned toes, beautifully ornamented with gold and pearls.
She wore a blue and white-striped vest, with long open sleeves,
trimmed with silver loops and buttons of pearls, and a sort of
bodice, which, closing only from the centre to the waist, exhibited
the whole of the ivory throat and upper part of the bosom; it wasthe whole of the ivory throat and upper part of the bosom; it was
fastened with three magnificent diamond clasps. The junction of the
bodice and drawers was entirely concealed by one of the
many-colored scarfs, whose brilliant hues and rich silken fringe
have rendered them so precious in the eyes of Parisian belles.
Tilted on one side of her head she had a small cap of gold-colored
silk, embroidered with pearls; while on the other a purple rose
mingled its glowing colors with the luxuriant masses of her hair,
of which the blackness was so intense that it was tinged with blue.
The extreme beauty of the countenance, that shone forth in
loveliness that mocked the vain attempts of dress to augment it,
was peculiarly and purely Grecian; there were the large, dark,
melting eyes, the finely formed nose, the coral lips, and pearly
teeth, that belonged to her race and country. And, to complete the
whole, Haidee was in the very springtide and fulness of youthful
charms — she had not yet numbered more than twenty summers.
Monte Cristo summoned the Greek attendant, and bade her inquire
whether it would be agreeable to her mistress to receive his visit.
Haidee's only reply was to direct her servant by a sign to withdraw
the tapestried curtain that hung before the door of her boudoir,
the framework of the opening thus made serving as a sort of border
to the graceful tableau presented by the young girl's picturesque
attitude and appearance. As Monte Cristo approached, she leaned
upon the elbow of the arm that held the narghile, and extending to
him her other hand, said, with a smile of captivating sweetness, in
the sonorous language spoken by the women of Athens and Sparta,
"Why demand permission ere you enter? Are you no longer my master,
or have I ceased to be your slave?" Monte Cristo returned her
smile. "Haidee," said he, "you well know."
"Why do you address me so coldly — so distantly?" asked the
young Greek. "Have I by any means displeased you? Oh, if so, punishyoung Greek. "Have I by any means displeased you? Oh, if so, punish
me as you will; but do not — do not speak to me in tones and manner
so formal and constrained."
"Haidee," replied the count, "you know that you are now in
France, and are free."
"Free to do what?" asked the young girl.
"Free to leave me."
"Leave you? Why should I leave you?"
"That is not for me to say; but we are now about to mix in
society — to visit and be visited."
"I don't wish to see anybody but you."
"And should you see one whom you could prefer, I would not be so
unjust" —
"I have never seen any one I preferred to you, and I have never
loved any one but you and my father."
"My poor child," replied Monte Cristo, "that is merely because
your father and myself are the only men who have ever talked to
you."
"I don't want anybody else to talk to me. My father said I was
his `joy' — you style me your `love,' — and both of you have called
me `my child.'"
"Do you remember your father, Haidee?" The young Greek smiled.
"He is here, and here," said she, touching her eyes and her heart.
"And where am I?" inquired Monte Cristo laughingly.
"You?" cried she, with tones of thrilling tenderness, "you are
everywhere!" Monte Cristo took the delicate hand of the young girl
in his, and was about to raise it to his lips, when the simple
child of nature hastily withdrew it, and presented her cheek. "You
now understand, Haidee," said the count, "that from this moment you
are absolutely free; that here you exercise unlimited sway, and are
at liberty to lay aside or continue the costume of your country, as
it may suit your inclination. Within this mansion you are absolute
mistress of your actions, and may go abroad or remain in your
apartments as may seem most agreeable to you. A carriage waits your
orders, and Ali and Myrtho will accompany you whithersoever you
desire to go. There is but one favor I would entreat of you."
"Speak."
"Guard carefully the secret of your birth. Make no allusion to
the past; nor upon any occasion be induced to pronounce the names


the past; nor upon any occasion be induced to pronounce the names
of your illustrious father or ill-fated mother."
"I have already told you, my lord, that I shall see no one."
"It is possible, Haidee, that so perfect a seclusion, though
conformable with the habits and customs of the East, may not be
practicable in Paris. Endeavor, then, to accustom yourself to our
manner of living in these northern climes as you did to those of
Rome, Florence, Milan, and Madrid; it may be useful to you one of
these days, whether you remain here or return to the East." The
young girl raised her tearful eyes towards Monte Cristo as she said
with touching earnestness, "Whether we return to the East, you mean
to say, my lord, do you not?"
"My child," returned Monte Cristo "you know full well that
whenever we part, it will be no fault or wish of mine; the tree
forsakes not the flower — the flower falls from the tree."
"My lord," replied Haidee, "I never will leave you, for I am
sure I could not exist without you."
"My poor girl, in ten years I shall be old, and you will be
still young."
"My father had a long white beard, but I loved him; he was sixty
years old, but to me he was handsomer than all the fine youths I
saw."
"Then tell me, Haidee, do you believe you shall be able to
accustom yourself to our present mode of life?"
"Shall I see you?"
"Every day."
"Then what do you fear, my lord?"
"You might find it dull."
"No, my lord. In the morning, I shall rejoice in the prospect of
your coming, and in the evening dwell with delight on the happiness
I have enjoyed in your presence; then too, when alone, I can call
forth mighty pictures of the past, see vast horizons bounded only
by the towering mountains of Pindus and Olympus. Oh, believe me,
that when three great passions, such as sorrow, love, and gratitude
fill the heart, ennui can find no place."
"You are a worthy daughter of Epirus, Haidee, and your charming
and poetical ideas prove well your descent from that race ofand poetical ideas prove well your descent from that race of
goddesses who claim your country as their birthplace. Depend on my
care to see that your youth is not blighted, or suffered to pass
away in ungenial solitude; and of this be well assured, that if you
love me as a father, I love you as a child."
"You are wrong, my lord. The love I have for you is very
different from the love I had for my father. My father died, but I
did not die. If you were to die, I should die too." The Count, with
a smile of profound tenderness, extended his hand, and she carried
it to her lips. Monte Cristo, thus attuned to the interview he
proposed to hold with Morrel and his family, departed, murmuring as
he went these lines of Pindar, "Youth is a flower of which love is
the fruit; happy is he who, after having watched its silent growth,
is permitted to gather and call it his own." The carriage was
prepared according to orders, and stepping lightly into it, the
count drove off at his usual rapid pace.In a very few minutes the count reached No. 7 in the Rue Meslay.
The house was of white stone, and in a small court before it were
two small beds full of beautiful flowers. In the concierge that
opened the gate the count recognized Cocles; but as he had but one
eye, and that eye had become somewhat dim in the course of nine
years, Cocles did not recognize the count. The carriages that drove
up to the door were compelled to turn, to avoid a fountain that
played in a basin of rockwork, — an ornament that had excited the
jealousy of the whole quarter, and had gained for the place the
appellation of "The Little Versailles." It is needless to add that
there were gold and silver fish in the basin. The house, with
kitchens and cellars below, had above the ground-floor, two stories
and attics. The whole of the property, consisting of an immense
workshop, two pavilions at the bottom of the garden, and the garden
itself, had been purchased by Emmanuel, who had seen at a glance
that he could make of it a profitable speculation. He had reserved
the house and half the garden, and building a wall between the
garden and the workshops, had let them upon lease with the
pavilions at the bottom of the garden. So that for a trifling sum
he was as well lodged, and as perfectly shut out from observation,
as the inhabitants of the finest mansion in the Faubourg St.
Germain. The breakfast-room was finished in oak; the salon in
mahogany, and the furnishings were of blue velvet; the bedroom was
in citronwood and green damask. There was a study for Emmanuel, who
never studied, and a music-room for Julie, who never played. The
whole of the second story was set apart for Maximilian; it was
precisely similar to his sister's apartments, except that for the
breakfast-parlor he had a billiard-room, where he received his
friends. He was superintending the grooming of his horse, and
smoking his cigar at the entrance of the garden, when the count's
carriage stopped at the gate.
Cocles opened the gate, and Baptistin, springing from the box,carriage stopped at the gate.
Cocles opened the gate, and Baptistin, springing from the box,
inquired whether Monsieur and Madame Herbault and Monsieur
Maximilian Morrel would see his excellency the Count of Monte
Cristo. "The Count of Monte Cristo?" cried Morrel, throwing away
his cigar and hastening to the carriage; "I should think we would
see him. Ah, a thousand thanks, count, for not having forgotten
your promise." And the young officer shook the count's hand so
warmly, that Monte Cristo could not be mistaken as to the sincerity
of his joy, and he saw that he had been expected with impatience,
and was received with pleasure. "Come, come," said Maximilian, "I
will serve as your guide; such a man as you are ought not to be
introduced by a servant. My sister is in the garden plucking the
dead roses; my brother is reading his two papers, the Presse and
the Debats, within six steps of her; for wherever you see Madame
Herbault, you have only to look within a circle of four yards and
you will find M. Emmanuel, and `reciprocally,' as they say at the
Polytechnic School." At the sound of their steps a young woman of
twenty to five and twenty, dressed in a silk morning gown, and
busily engaged in plucking the dead leaves off a noisette
rose-tree, raised her head. This was Julie, who had become, as the
clerk of the house of Thomson & French had predicted, Madame
Emmanuel Herbault. She uttered a cry of surprise at the sight of a
stranger, and Maximilian began to laugh. "Don't disturb yourself,
Julie," said he. "The count has only been two or three days in
Paris, but he already knows what a fashionable woman of the Marais
is, and if he does not, you will show him."
"Ah, monsieur," returned Julie, "it is treason in my brother to
bring you thus, but he never has any regard for his poor sister.
Penelon, Penelon!" An old man, who was digging busily at one of the
beds, stuck his spade in the earth, and approached, cap in hand,
striving to conceal a quid of tobacco he had just thrust into his


striving to conceal a quid of tobacco he had just thrust into his
cheek. A few locks of gray mingled with his hair, which was still
thick and matted, while his bronzed features and determined glance
well suited an old sailor who had braved the heat of the equator
and the storms of the tropics. "I think you hailed me, Mademoiselle
Julie?" said he. Penelon had still preserved the habit of calling
his master's daughter "Mademoiselle Julie," and had never been able
to change the name to Madame Herbault. "Penelon," replied Julie,
"go and inform M. Emmanuel of this gentleman's visit, and
Maximilian will conduct him to the salon." Then, turning to Monte
Cristo, — "I hope you will permit me to leave you for a few
minutes," continued she; and without awaiting any reply,
disappeared behind a clump of trees, and escaped to the house by a
lateral alley.
"I am sorry to see," observed Monte Cristo to Morrel, "that I
cause no small disturbance in your house."
"Look there," said Maximilian, laughing; "there is her husband
changing his jacket for a coat. I assure you, you are well known in
the Rue Meslay."
"Your family appears to be a very happy one," said the count, as
if speaking to himself.
"Oh, yes, I assure you, count, they want nothing that can render
them happy; they are young and cheerful, they are tenderly attached
to each other, and with twenty-five thousand francs a year they
fancy themselves as rich as Rothschild."
"Five and twenty thousand francs is not a large sum, however,"
replied Monte Cristo, with a tone so sweet and gentle, that it went
to Maximilian's heart like the voice of a father; "but they will
not be content with that. Your brother-in-law is a barrister? a
doctor?"
"He was a merchant, monsieur, and had succeeded to the business
of my poor father. M. Morrel, at his death, left 500,000 francs,
which were divided between my sister and myself, for we were his
only children. Her husband, who, when he married her, had no other
patrimony than his noble probity, his first-rate ability, and hispatrimony than his noble probity, his first-rate ability, and his
spotless reputation, wished to possess as much as his wife. He
labored and toiled until he had amassed 250,000 francs; six years
sufficed to achieve this object. Oh, I assure you, sir, it was a
touching spectacle to see these young creatures, destined by their
talents for higher stations, toiling together, and through their
unwillingness to change any of the customs of their paternal house,
taking six years to accomplish what less scrupulous people would
have effected in two or three. Marseilles resounded with their
well-earned praises. At last, one day, Emmanuel came to his wife,
who had just finished making up the accounts. `Julie,' said he to
her, `Cocles has just given me the last rouleau of a hundred
francs; that completes the 250,000 francs we had fixed as the
limits of our gains. Can you content yourself with the small
fortune which we shall possess for the future? Listen to me. Our
house transacts business to the amount of a million a year, from
which we derive an income of 40,000 francs. We can dispose of the
business, if we please, in an hour, for I have received a letter
from M. Delaunay, in which he offers to purchase the good-will of
the house, to unite with his own, for 300,000 francs. Advise me
what I had better do.' — `Emmanuel,' returned my sister, `the house
of Morrel can only be carried on by a Morrel. Is it not worth
300,000 francs to save our father's name from the chances of evil
fortune and failure?' — `I thought so,' replied Emmanuel; `but I
wished to have your advice.' — `This is my counsel: — Our accounts
are made up and our bills paid; all we have to do is to stop the
issue of any more, and close our office.' This was done instantly.
It was three o'clock; at a quarter past, a merchant presented
himself to insure two ships; it was a clear profit of 15,000
francs. `Monsieur,' said Emmanuel, `have the goodness to address
yourself to M. Delaunay. We have quitted business.' — `How long?'yourself to M. Delaunay. We have quitted business.' — `How long?'
inquired the astonished merchant. `A quarter of an hour,' was the
reply. And this is the reason, monsieur," continued Maximilian, "of
my sister and brother-in-law having only 25,000 francs a year."
Maximilian had scarcely finished his story, during which the
count's heart had swelled within him, when Emmanuel entered wearing
a hat and coat. He saluted the count with the air of a man who is
aware of the rank of his guest; then, after having led Monte Cristo
around the little garden, he returned to the house. A large vase of
Japan porcelain, filled with flowers that loaded the air with their
perfume, stood in the salon. Julie, suitably dressed, and her hair
arranged (she had accomplished this feat in less than ten minutes),
received the count on his entrance. The songs of the birds were
heard in an aviary hard by, and the branches of laburnums and rose
acacias formed an exquisite framework to the blue velvet curtains.
Everything in this charming retreat, from the warble of the birds
to the smile of the mistress, breathed tranquillity and repose. The
count had felt the influence of this happiness from the moment he
entered the house, and he remained silent and pensive, forgetting
that he was expected to renew the conversation, which had ceased
after the first salutations had been exchanged. The silence became
almost painful when, by a violent effort, tearing himself from his
pleasing reverie — "Madame," said he at length, "I pray you to
excuse my emotion, which must astonish you who are only accustomed
to the happiness I meet here; but contentment is so new a sight to
me, that I could never be weary of looking at yourself and your
husband."
"We are very happy, monsieur," replied Julie; "but we have also
known unhappiness, and few have ever undergone more bitter
sufferings than ourselves." The Count's features displayed an
expression of the most intense curiosity.
"Oh, all this is a family history, as Chateau-Renaud told you


"Oh, all this is a family history, as Chateau-Renaud told you
the other day," observed Maximilian. "This humble picture would
have but little interest for you, accustomed as you are to behold
the pleasures and the misfortunes of the wealthy and industrious;
but such as we are, we have experienced bitter sorrows."
"And God has poured balm into your wounds, as he does into those
of all who are in affliction?" said Monte Cristo inquiringly.
"Yes, count," returned Julie, "we may indeed say he has, for he
has done for us what he grants only to his chosen; he sent us one
of his angels." The count's cheeks became scarlet, and he coughed,
in order to have an excuse for putting his handkerchief to his
mouth. "Those born to wealth, and who have the means of gratifying
every wish," said Emmanuel, "know not what is the real happiness of
life, just as those who have been tossed on the stormy waters of
the ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize the blessings of
fair weather."
Monte Cristo rose, and without making any answer (for the
tremulousness of his voice would have betrayed his emotion) walked
up and down the apartment with a slow step.
"Our magnificence makes you smile, count," said Maximilian, who
had followed him with his eyes. "No, no," returned Monte Cristo,
pale as death, pressing one hand on his heart to still its
throbbings, while with the other he pointed to a crystal cover,
beneath which a silken purse lay on a black velvet cushion. "I was
wondering what could be the significance of this purse, with the
paper at one end and the large diamond at the other."
"Count," replied Maximilian, with an air of gravity, "those are
our most precious family treasures."
"The stone seems very brilliant," answered the count.
"Oh, my brother does not allude to its value, although it has
been estimated at 100,000 francs; he means, that the articles
contained in this purse are the relics of the angel I spoke of just
now."
"This I do not comprehend; and yet I may not ask for annow."
"This I do not comprehend; and yet I may not ask for an
explanation, madame," replied Monte Cristo bowing. "Pardon me, I
had no intention of committing an indiscretion."
"Indiscretion, — oh, you make us happy by giving us an excuse
for expatiating on this subject. If we wanted to conceal the noble
action this purse commemorates, we should not expose it thus to
view. Oh, would we could relate it everywhere, and to every one, so
that the emotion of our unknown benefactor might reveal his
presence."
"Ah, really," said Monte Cristo in a half-stifled voice.
"Monsieur," returned Maximilian, raising the glass cover, and
respectfully kissing the silken purse, "this has touched the hand
of a man who saved my father from suicide, us from ruin, and our
name from shame and disgrace, — a man by whose matchless
benevolence we poor children, doomed to want and wretchedness, can
at present hear every one envying our happy lot. This letter" (as
he spoke, Maximilian drew a letter from the purse and gave it to
the count) — "this letter was written by him the day that my father
had taken a desperate resolution, and this diamond was given by the
generous unknown to my sister as her dowry." Monte Cristo opened
the letter, and read it with an indescribable feeling of delight.
It was the letter written (as our readers know) to Julie, and
signed "Sinbad the Sailor." "Unknown you say, is the man who
rendered you this service — unknown to you?"
"Yes; we have never had the happiness of pressing his hand,"
continued Maximilian. "We have supplicated heaven in vain to grant
us this favor, but the whole affair has had a mysterious meaning
that we cannot comprehend — we have been guided by an invisible
hand, — a hand as powerful as that of an enchanter."
"Oh," cried Julie, "I have not lost all hope of some day kissing
that hand, as I now kiss the purse which he has touched. Four years
ago, Penelon was at Trieste — Penelon, count, is the old sailor you
saw in the garden, and who, from quartermaster, has become gardenersaw in the garden, and who, from quartermaster, has become gardener
— Penelon, when he was at Trieste, saw on the quay an Englishman,
who was on the point of embarking on board a yacht, and he
recognized him as the person who called on my father the fifth of
June, 1829, and who wrote me this letter on the fifth of September.
He felt convinced of his identity, but he did not venture to
address him."
"An Englishman," said Monte Cristo, who grew uneasy at the
attention with which Julie looked at him. "An Englishman you
say?"
"Yes," replied Maximilian, "an Englishman, who represented
himself as the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson &
French, at Rome. It was this that made me start when you said the
other day, at M. de Morcerf's, that Messrs. Thomson & French
were your bankers. That happened, as I told you, in 1829. For God's
sake, tell me, did you know this Englishman?"
"But you tell me, also, that the house of Thomson & French
have constantly denied having rendered you this service?"
"Yes."
"Then is it not probable that this Englishman may be some one
who, grateful for a kindness your father had shown him, and which
he himself had forgotten, has taken this method of requiting the
obligation?"
"Everything is possible in this affair, even a miracle."
"What was his name?" asked Monte Cristo.
"He gave no other name," answered Julie, looking earnestly at
the count, "than that at the end of his letter — `Sinbad the
Sailor.'"
"Which is evidently not his real name, but a fictitious
one."
Then, noticing that Julie was struck with the sound of his
voice, —
"Tell me," continued he, "was he not about my height, perhaps a
little taller, with his chin imprisoned, as it were, in a high
cravat; his coat closely buttoned up, and constantly taking out his
pencil?"
"Oh, do you then know him?" cried Julie, whose eyes sparkled
with joy.
"No," returned Monte Cristo "I only guessed. I knew a Lord
Wilmore, who was constantly doing actions of this kind."
"Without revealing himself?"


Wilmore, who was constantly doing actions of this kind."
"Without revealing himself?"
"He was an eccentric being, and did not believe in the existence
of gratitude."
"Oh, heaven," exclaimed Julie, clasping her hands, "in what did
he believe, then?"
"He did not credit it at the period which I knew him," said
Monte Cristo, touched to the heart by the accents of Julie's voice;
"but, perhaps, since then he has had proofs that gratitude does
exist."
"And do you know this gentleman, monsieur?" inquired
Emmanuel.
"Oh, if you do know him," cried Julie, "can you tell us where he
is — where we can find him? Maximilian — Emmanuel — if we do but
discover him, he must believe in the gratitude of the heart!" Monte
Cristo felt tears start into his eyes, and he again walked hastily
up and down the room.
"In the name of heaven," said Maximilian, "if you know anything
of him, tell us what it is."
"Alas," cried Monte Cristo, striving to repress his emotion, "if
Lord Wilmore was your unknown benefactor, I fear you will never see
him again. I parted from him two years ago at Palermo, and he was
then on the point of setting out for the most remote regions; so
that I fear he will never return."
"Oh, monsieur, this is cruel of you," said Julie, much affected;
and the young lady's eyes swam with tears.
"Madame," replied Monte Cristo gravely, and gazing earnestly on
the two liquid pearls that trickled down Julie's cheeks, "had Lord
Wilmore seen what I now see, he would become attached to life, for
the tears you shed would reconcile him to mankind;" and he held out
his hand to Julie, who gave him hers, carried away by the look and
accent of the count. "But," continued she, "Lord Wilmore had a
family or friends, he must have known some one, can we not — "
"Oh, it is useless to inquire," returned the count; "perhaps,
after all, he was not the man you seek for. He was my friend: he
had no secrets from me, and if this had been so he would have
confided in me."
"And he told you nothing?"
"Not a word."
"Nothing that would lead you to suppose?"confided in me."
"And he told you nothing?"
"Not a word."
"Nothing that would lead you to suppose?"
"Nothing."
"And yet you spoke of him at once."
"Ah, in such a case one supposes" —
"Sister, sister," said Maximilian, coming to the count's aid,
"monsieur is quite right. Recollect what our excellent father so
often told us, `It was no Englishman that thus saved us.'" Monte
Cristo started. "What did your father tell you, M. Morrel?" said he
eagerly.
"My father thought that this action had been miraculously
performed — he believed that a benefactor had arisen from the grave
to save us. Oh, it was a touching superstition, monsieur, and
although I did not myself believe it, I would not for the world
have destroyed my father's faith. How often did he muse over it and
pronounce the name of a dear friend — a friend lost to him forever;
and on his death-bed, when the near approach of eternity seemed to
have illumined his mind with supernatural light, this thought,
which had until then been but a doubt, became a conviction, and his
last words were, `Maximilian, it was Edmond Dantes!'" At these
words the count's paleness, which had for some time been
increasing, became alarming; he could not speak; he looked at his
watch like a man who has forgotten the hour, said a few hurried
words to Madame Herbault, and pressing the hands of Emmanuel and
Maximilian, — "Madame," said he, "I trust you will allow me to
visit you occasionally; I value your friendship, and feel grateful
to you for your welcome, for this is the first time for many years
that I have thus yielded to my feelings;" and he hastily quitted
the apartment.
"This Count of Monte Cristo is a strange man," said
Emmanuel.
"Yes," answered Maximilian, "but I feel sure he has an excellent
heart, and that he likes us."
"His voice went to my heart," observed Julie; "and two or three
times I fancied that I had heard it before."About two-thirds of the way along the Faubourg Saint-Honore, and
in the rear of one of the most imposing mansions in this rich
neighborhood, where the various houses vie with each other for
elegance of design and magnificence of construction, extended a
large garden, where the wide-spreading chestnut-trees raised their
heads high above the walls in a solid rampart, and with the coming
of every spring scattered a shower of delicate pink and white
blossoms into the large stone vases that stood upon the two square
pilasters of a curiously wrought iron gate, that dated from the
time of Louis XII. This noble entrance, however, in spite of its
striking appearance and the graceful effect of the geraniums
planted in the two vases, as they waved their variegated leaves in
the wind and charmed the eye with their scarlet bloom, had fallen
into utter disuse. The proprietors of the mansion had many years
before thought it best to confine themselves to the possession of
the house itself, with its thickly planted court-yard, opening into
the Faubourg Saint-Honore, and to the garden shut in by this gate,
which formerly communicated with a fine kitchen-garden of about an
acre. For the demon of speculation drew a line, or in other words
projected a street, at the farther side of the kitchen-garden. The
street was laid out, a name was chosen and posted up on an iron
plate, but before construction was begun, it occurred to the
possessor of the property that a handsome sum might be obtained for
the ground then devoted to fruits and vegetables, by building along
the line of the proposed street, and so making it a branch of
communication with the Faubourg Saint-Honore itself, one of the
most important thoroughfares in the city of Paris.
In matters of speculation, however, though "man proposes,"
"money disposes." From some such difficulty the newly named street
died almost in birth, and the purchaser of the kitchen-garden,
having paid a high price for it, and being quite unable to find any