# The Count of Monte-Cristo/Volume 4/Chapter 75

Contents
CHAPTER LXXV
THE OFFICIAL REPORT
OIRTIER was prepared to receive them, dressed in black, and installed in his arm-chair. When the three persons he expected had entered, he looked at the door, which his valet immediately closed.
"Listen," whispered Villefort to Valentine, who could not conceal her joy; "if M. Noirtier wishes to communicate anything which would delay your marriage, I forbid you to understand him."
Valentine blushed, but did not answer. Villefort approached Noirtier.
"Here is M. Franz d'Epinay," said he; "you requested to see him. We have all wished for this interview, and I trust it will convince you how ill-founded are your objections to Valentine's marriage."
Noirtier answered only by a look which made Villefort's blood run cold. He motioned Valentine to approach. In a moment, thanks to her habit of conversing with her grandfather, she understood he asked for a key. Then his eye was fixed on the drawer of a small desk between the windows. She opened the drawer, and found a key; and understanding that was the key which he wanted, again watched his eyes, which turned toward an old secrétaire, long since forgotten, and supposed to contain none but useless documents.
"Shall I open the secrétaire?" asked Valentine.
"Yes," said the old man.
"And the drawers?"
"Yes."
"Those at the side?"
"No"
"The middle one?"
"Yes." ​Valentine opened it and drew out a bundle of papers. "Is that what you wish for?" asked she.
"No."
She took successively all the other papers out till the drawer was
empty. "But there are no more," said she. Noirtier's eye was fixed on the dictionary.
"Yes, I understand, grandfather," said the young girl.
She pointed to each letter of the alphabet. At the letter S, the old man stopped her. She opened the dictionary, and, proceeding as before, reached the word "secret." ​"Ah! is there a secret spring?" said Valentine.
"Yes," said Noirtier.
"And who knows it?" Noirtier looked at the door where the servant had gone out.
"Barrois?" said she.
"Yes."
"Shall I call him?"
"Yes."
Valentine went to the door and called Barrois. Villefort's impatience during this scene made the perspiration roll from his forehead, and Franz was stupefied. The old servant came.
"Barrois," said Valentine, "my grandfather has told me to open that drawer in the secrétaire, but there is a secret spring in it, which you know ― will you open it?"
Barrois looked at the old man. "Obey," said Noirtier's intelligent eye. Barrois touched a spring, the false bottom came out, and they saw a bundle of papers tied with a black string.
"Is that what you wish for?" said Barrois.
"Yes."
"Shall I give these papers to M. de Villefort?"
"No."
"To Mademoiselle Valentine?"
"No."
"To M. Franz d'Epinay?"
"Yes."
Franz, astonished, advanced a step. "To me, sir?" said he.
"Yes."
Franz took them from Barrois, and casting his eye on the cover, read:
"'To be given, after my death, to General Durand, who shall bequeath the packet to his son, with an injunction to preserve it as containing an important document.'
"Well, sir," asked Franz, "what do you wish me to do with this paper?"
"To preserve it, sealed up as it is, doubtless," said the procureur du roi.
"No," replied Noirtier, eagerly.
"Do you wish him to read it?" said Valentine.
"Yes," replied the old man.
"You understand, baron, my grandfather wishes you to read this paper," said Valentine.
"Then let us sit down," said Villefort, impatiently, "for it will take some time."
​"Sit down," said the old man. Villefort took a chair, but Valentine remained standing by her father's side, and Franz before him, holding the mysterious paper in his hand. "Read," said the old man. Franz untied it, and, in the midst of the most profound silence, read:
Franz stopped. "February 5th, 1815!" said he; "it is the day my father was murdered." Valentine and Villefort were dumb; the eye of the old man alone seemed to say clearly, "Go on" "But it was on leaving this club," said he, "my father was killed."
​Noirtier's eye continued to say, "Read." He resumed:
"'A note was, in consequence, addressed to General de Quesnel, begging him to be present at the meeting next day, the 5th. The note indicated neither the street nor the number of the house where the meeting was to be held; it bore no signature, but it announced to the general that some one would call for him, if he would be ready at nine o'clock. The meetings were always held from that time till midnight. At nine o'clock, the president of the club presented himself; the general was ready; the president informed him one of the conditions of his introduction was, that he should be eternally ignorant of the place of meeting, and that he would allow his eyes to be bandaged, swearing that he would not endeavor to take off the bandage. General de Quesnel accepted the condition, and promised, on his honor, not to seek to discover the road they took. The general's carriage was ready, but the president told him it was impossible he could use it, for it was useless to blindfold the master if the coachman knew through what streets he went. "What must, then, be done?" asked the general.―"I have my carriage here," said the president.
"'"Have you, then, so much confidence in your servant that you can intrust him with a secret you will not allow me to know?"―"Our coachman is a member of the club," said the president; "we shall be driven by a State-Councillor."―"Then we run another risk," said the general, laughing, "that of being upset." We insert this joke to prove that the general was not in the least compelled to attend this meeting, but that he came willingly. When they were seated in the carriage, the president reminded the general of his promise to allow his eyes to be bandaged, to which he made no opposition. On the road the president thought he saw the general make an attempt to remove the handkerchief, and reminded him of his oath. "True," said the general. The carriage stopped at a passage leading to the Rue Saint-Jacques. The general alighted, leaning on the arm of the president, of whose dignity he was not aware, considering him simply as a member of the club; they crossed the passage, mounted to the first story, and entered the meeting-room.
"'The deliberations had already commenced. The members, apprised of the sort of presentation which was to be made that evening, were all in attendance. When in the
Franz interrupted himself by saying:
"My father was a royalist; they need not have asked his sentiments, which were well known."
"And hence," said Villefort, "arose my affection for your father, my dear M. Franz. A similarity of opinion soon binds."
​"Read again," said the old man.
Franz continued:
"'The president then sought to make him speak more explicitly; but M. de Quesnel replied that he wished first to know what they wanted with him. He was then informed
"'"Well," asked the president, "what do you say to this letter, general?"
"Ah, my father!" said Franz, interrupting himself. "I understand now why they murdered him." Valentine could not help casting one glance toward the young man, whose filial enthusiasm ennobled him. Villefort walked to and fro behind them. Noirtier watched the expression of each one, and preserved his dignified and commanding attitude. Franz returned to the manuscript and continued:
ought to think of him, finding myself among assassins."―"General," said the chief of the assembly, proudly, "one man has always the right to insult fifty—it is the privilege of weakness. But he does wrong to use his privilege. Follow my advice, swear, do not insult." The general, again daunted by the superiority of the chief, hesitated a moment; then advancing to the president's desk,—"What is the form?" said he.
​"'"It is this: 'I swear by my honor not to reveal to any one what I have seen and heard on the 5th of February, 1815, between nine and ten o'clock in the evening; and I declare myself worthy of death should I ever violate this oath.'" The general appeared to be affected by a nervous shudder, which prevented his answering for some moments; then overcoming his manifest repugnance, he pronounced the required oath, but in so low a tone as to be scarcely audible to a majority of the members, who insisted on his repeating it clearly and distinctly, which he did.
"'"Now am I at liberty to retire?" said the general. The president rose, appointed three members to accompany him, and got into the carriage with the general, after bandaging his eyes. One of those three members was the coachman who had driven them there. The other members silently dispersed. "Where do you wish to be taken?" asked the president.―"Anywhere out of your presence," replied M. d'Epinay.―"Beware, sir," replied the president; "you are no longer in the assembly, and have only to do with individuals; do not insult them unless you wish to be held responsible." But, instead of listening, M. d'Epinay went on,―"You are still as brave in your carriage as in your assembly because you are still four against one." The president stopped the coach. They were at that part of the Quai des Ormes where the steps lead down to the river. "Why do you stop here?" asked d'Epinay.―"Because, sir," said the president, "you have insulted a man, and that man will not go one step farther without demanding honorable reparation."―"Another method of assassination?" said the general, shrugging his shoulders.―"Make no noise, sir, unless you wish me to consider you as one of those men whom you designated just now as cowards, who take their weakness for a shield. You are alone, one alone shall answer you; you have a sword by your side, I have one in my cane; you have no witness, one of these gentlemen will serve you. Now, if you please, remove your bandage." The general tore the handkerchief from his eyes. "At last," said he, "I shall know with whom I have to do." They opened the door; the four men alighted.'"
Franz again interrupted himself, and wiped the cold drops from his brow; there was something awful in hearing the son, trembling and pale, read aloud these details of his father's death, which had hitherto remained unknown. Valentine clasped her hands as if in prayer. Noirtier looked at Villefort with an almost sublime expression of contempt and pride.
Franz continued:
"'It was, as we said, the 5th of February. For three days there had been five or six degrees of frost; the steps were covered with ice. The general was stout and tall, the president offered him the side of the railing to assist him in getting down. The two witnesses followed. It was a dark night. The ground from the steps to the river was covered with snow and hoar frost, the water of the river looked black and deep. One of the seconds went for a lantern in a coal-barge near, and by its light they examined the arms. The president's sword, which was simply, as he had said, one he carried in his cane, was five inches shorter than the general's, and had no guard. General d'Epinay proposed to cast lots for the swords, but the president said it was he who had given the provocation, and when he had given it he had supposed each would use his own arms. The witnesses endeavored to insist, but the president bade them be silent. The lantern was placed on the ground, the two adversaries arranged themselves, and the duel commenced. The light made the two swords appear like flashes of lightning; as for the men, they were scarce perceptible, the darkness was so great. M. le Général d'Epinay passed for one of the best swordsmen in the army, but he was pressed so closely in ​the onset that he stepped back and fell. The witnesses thought he was dead, but his adversary, who knew he had not touched him, offered him the assistance of his hand to rise. The circumstance irritated instead of calming the general, and he rushed on his adversary. But his opponent did not step back an inch, but received him on his sword. Three times the general drew back, and finding himself foiled, returned to the charge. At the
​Franz read these last words in a voice so choked that they were hardly audible, and then stopped, passing his hand over his eyes as if to dispel a cloud; but after a moment's silence, he continued:
"'The president went up the steps, after replacing his sword in his cane; a track of blood on the snow marked his course. He had scarcely arrived at the top when he heard a heavy splash in the water―it was the general's body, which the witnesses had just thrown into the river after ascertaining he was dead. The general fell, then, in a loyal duel, and not entrapped into an ambush, as it might have been reported. In proof of this, we have signed this paper to establish the truth of the facts, lest the moment should arrive when either of the actors in this terrible scene should be accused of premeditated murder or of infringement of the laws of honor.
"'Signed, Beaurepaire, Duchampy and Lecharpal.'"
When Franz had finished reading this account, so dreadful for a son,―when Valentine, pale with emotion, had wiped away a tear,―when Villefort, trembling, and crouched in a corner, had endeavored to lessen the storm by supplicating glances at the implacable old man,―
"Sir," said d'Epinay to Noirtier, "since you are well acquainted with all these details, which are attested by honorable signatures,―since you appear to take some interest in me, although you have only manifested it hitherto by causing me sorrow, refuse me not one final satisfaction―tell me the name of the president of the club, that I may at least know who killed my father."
Villefort mechanically felt for the handle of the door; Valentine, who understood sooner than any one her grandfather's answer, and who had often seen two scars upon his right arm, drew back a few steps.
"Mademoiselle," said Franz, turning toward Valentine, "unite your efforts with mine to find out the name of the man who made me an orphan at two years of age." Valentine remained dumb and motionless.
"Hold, sir!" said Villefort, "do not prolong this dreadful scene. The names have been purposely concealed; my father himself does not know who this president was, and if he knows he cannot tell you; proper names are not in the dictionary."
"Oh, misery!" cried Franz; "the only hope which sustained me and enabled me to read to the end was that of knowing, at least, the name of him who killed my father! Sir! sir!" cried he, turning to Noirtier, "do what you can!―make me understand in some way!"
"Yes," replied Noirtier.
"Oh, mademoiselle! mademoiselle!" cried Franz, "your grandfather says he can indicate the person. Help me! lend me your assistance!"
Noirtier looked at the dictionary. Franz took it with a nervous trembling, and repeated the letters of the alphabet successively, until he came to M. At that letter, the old man signified "Yes."
​"M," repeated Franz. The young man's finger glided over the words, but at each one Noirtier answered by a negative sign. Valentine hid her head between her hands. At length, Franz arrived at the word MYSELF.
Yes!"
"You!" cried Franz, whose hair stood on end; "you, M. Noirtier!—you killed my father?"
"Yes," replied Noirtier, fixing a majestic look on the young man. Franz fell powerless on a chair; Villefort opened the door and escaped, for the idea had entered his mind to stifle the little remaining life in the heart of this terrible old man.