# The Count of Monte-Cristo/Volume 5/Chapter 109

Contents
CHAPTER CIX
THE ASSIZES
HE Benedetto affair, as it was called in the Palais, and by people in general, had produced a tremendous sensation. Frequenting the Café de Paris, the Boulevard de Gand, and the Bois de Boulogne, during his brief two or three months of splendor, the false Cavalcanti had formed a host of acquaintances.
The papers had related his various adventures, both as the man of fashion and the galley-slave; and as every one who had been personally acquainted with the Prince Cavalcanti experienced a lively curiosity in his fate, they all determined to spare no trouble in endeavoring to witness the trial of M. Benedetto for the murder of his comrade.
In the eyes of many, Benedetto appeared, if not a victim to, at least an instance of, the fallibility of the law. M. Cavalcanti, his father, had been seen in Paris, and it was expected he would reappear to claim the illustrious outcast. Many who were not aware of the pretty comedy in which he had made his appearance at Monte-Cristo's house were struck with the dignified appearance, the gentlemanly bearing, and the knowledge of the world displayed by the old patrician, who certainly played the nobleman very well, so long as he said nothing, and made no arithmetical calculations.
As for the accused himself, many remembered him as being so amiable, so handsome, and so liberal, that they chose to think him the victim of some conspiracy, since, in this world, large fortunes frequently excite the malevolence and jealousy of some unknown enemy.
Every one, therefore, ran to the court: some to witness the sight, others to comment upon it. From seven o'clock in the morning a crowd was stationed at the iron gates, and, an hour before the trial commenced, the hall was full of the privileged. Before the entrance of the magistrates, and indeed frequently afterward, a court of justice, on days when ​some especial trial is to take place, resembles a drawing-room, where many persons recognize each other, and converse, if they can do so without losing their seats, and, when they are separated by too great a number of spectators, lawyers, and gendarmes, communicate by signs.
It was one of those magnificent autumn days which make amends for a short summer; the clouds which Villefort had perceived at sunrise had all disappeared as if by magic, and one of the softest and most brilliant days of September shone forth in all its splendor.
Beauchamp, one of the kings of the press, and therefore having the throne everywhere, was looking round on every side. He perceived Château-Renaud and Debray, who had just gained the good graces of a sergent-de-ville, and who had persuaded the latter to let them stand before, instead of behind, him, as he ought to have done. The worthy officer had recognized the minister's secretary and the millionaire, and, by way of paying extra attention to his noble neighbors, promised to keep their places while they paid a visit to Beauchamp.
"Well!" said Beauchamp, "we shall see our friend!"
"Yes, indeed!" replied Debray. "That worthy prince. Deuce take those Italian princes!"
"A man, too, who could boast of Dante for a genealogist, and could reckon as far back as the 'Divina Commedia.'"
"A nobility of the rope!" said Château-Renaud, phlegmatically.
"He will be condemned, will he not?" asked Debray of Beauchamp.
"My dear fellow, I think we should ask you that question; you know such news much better than we do. Did you see the president at the minister's last night?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
"Something which will surprise you."
"Oh! make haste and tell me, then; it is a long time since that has happened."
"Well! he told me that Benedetto, who is considered a serpent of subtlety and a giant of cunning, is really but a very subordinate, silly rascal, and altogether unworthy of the experiments that will be made on his phrenological organs after his death."
"Bah!" said Beauchamp, "he played the prince very well."
"Yes, for you who detest those unhappy princes, Beauchamp, and are always delighted to find fault with them; but not for me, who scent a gentleman by instinct, and who start an aristocratic family like a very bloodhound of heraldry."
"Then you never believed in the principality?"
"Yes! in the principality, but not in the prince."
​"Not so bad," said Beauchamp; "still, I assure you, he passed very well with many people; I saw him at the ministers' houses."
"Ah, yes!" said Château-Renaud. "The idea of thinking ministers understand anything about princes!"
"There is something in what you have just said," said Beauchamp, laughing. "The phrase is brief and striking; may I use it in my report?"
"But," said Debray to Beauchamp, "if I spoke to the president, you must have spoken with the procureur du roi."
"It was an impossibility; for the last week M. de Villefort has secluded himself. It is natural enough; this strange chain of domestic afflictions, followed by the no less strange death of his daughter———"
"Strange! What do you mean, Beauchamp?"
"Oh, yes! Do you play the ignorant, under the pretense that all this took place at the minister's?" said Beauchamp, placing his eye-glass in his eye, where he tried to make it remain.
"My dear sir," said Château-Renaud, "allow me to tell you that you do not understand that manœvre with the eye-glass half so well as Debray. Give him a lesson, Debray."
"Stay," said Beauchamp, "surely I am not deceived."
"What is it?"
"It is she!"
"Whom do you mean?"
"They said she had left."
"Mademoiselle Eugénie? "said Château-Renaud; "has she returned?"
"No! but her mother."
"Madame Danglars? Nonsense! Impossible!" said Château-Renaud; "only ten days after the flight of her daughter, and three days from the bankruptcy of her husband?"
Debray colored slightly, and followed with his eyes the direction of Beauchamp's glance.
"Come," he said, "it is only a veiled lady, some foreign princess; perhaps the mother of Cavalcanti. But you were just speaking on a very interesting topic, Beauchamp."
"I?"
"Yes; you were telling us about the extraordinary death of Valentine."
"Ah, yes, so I was. But how is it that Madame de Villefort is not here?"
"Poor, dear woman!" said Debray, "she is no doubt occupied in distilling balm for the hospitals, or in making cosmetics for herself or friends. Do you know she spends two or three thousand crowns a year ​in this amusement! But I wonder she is not here. I should have been pleased to see her, for I like her very much."
"And I hate her," said Château-Renaud.
"Why!"
"I do not know. Why do we love? Why do we hate? I detest her, from antipathy."
"Or, rather, by instinct."
"Perhaps so. But to return to what you were saying, Beauchamp."
"Well! do you know why people die so thick in M. de Villefort's house?"
"Thick is good," said Château-Renaud.
"My dear fellow, the word is found in Saint-Simon."
"But the thing is found at M. de Villefort's. Let us return to the subject."
"Talking of that," said Debray, "I have not lost sight of that house of mourning for three months, and only two days ago madame was making inquiries about that house."
"Who is madame?" asked Château-Renaud.
"The minister's wife, pardieu?"
"Oh, your pardon! I never visit ministers; I leave that to the princes."
"Really, you were before only sparkling, but now you are brilliant; take compassion on us, or, like Jupiter, you will burn us."
"I will not speak again!" said Château-Renaud; "pray have compassion upon me, and do not take up every word I say."
"Come, let us endeavor to hear the end of your story, Beauchamp: I told you that yesterday madame made inquiries of me upon the subject: enlighten me, and I will then communicate my information to her."
"Well, gentlemen, the reason people die so thick at M. de Villefort's is, that there is an assassin in the house!"
The two young men shuddered, for the same idea had more than once occurred to them.
"And who is the assassin?" they asked together.
"Young Edward!" A burst of laughter from the auditors did not in the least disconcert the speaker, who continued: "Yes, gentlemen; Edward, who is quite an adept in the art of killing."
"You are jesting."
"Not at all. I yesterday engaged a servant, who had just left M. de Villefort—I intend sending him away to-morrow, for he eats so enormously, to make up for the fast imposed upon him by his terror in that house. Well! listen to me."
​"We are listening."
"It appears that the dear child has obtained possession of a bottle containing some drug, which he every now and then uses against those who have displeased him. First, M. and Mme. de Saint-Méran incurred his displeasure, so he poured out three drops of his elixir—three drops were sufficient; then followed Barrois, the old servant of M. Noirtier, who sometimes rebuffed this little wretch—the little joker, therefore, poured out for him the same quantity of the elixir; then it was poor Valentine, who did not rebuff him, but of whom he was jealous; he gave her the same dose as the others, and ah? was over for her as well as the rest."
"Why, what nonsense are you telling us?" said Château-Renaud.
"Yes, it is an extraordinary story!" said Beauchamp, "is it not?"
"It is absurd," said Debray.
"Ah!" said Beauchamp, "you doubt me? Well, you can ask my servant, or rather him who will no longer be my servant to-morrow; it was the talk of the house."
"And this elixir, where is it? what is it?"
"The child conceals it."
"But where did he find it?"
"In his mother's laboratory."
"Does his mother, then, keep poisons in her laboratory?"
"How can I tell? You are questioning me like a procureur du roi. I only repeat what I have been told, I give my authority, I can do no more. The poor wretch would eat nothing, from fear."
"It is incredible!"
"No, my dear fellow, it is not at all incredible! You saw the child of the Rue Richelieu last year, who amused himself with killing his brothers and sisters by sticking pins in their ears while they slept. The generation who follow us is very precocious!"
"Come, Beauchamp," said Château-Renaud, "I will bet anything you do not believe a word of all you have been telling us! but I do not see the Count of Monte-Cristo here!"
"He is worn out," said Debray; "besides, he could not well appear in public, since he has been the dupe of the Cavalcanti, who, it appears, presented themselves to him with false letters of credit, and cheated him out of one hundred thousand francs upon the mortgage of this principality."
"By the way, M. de Château-Renaud," asked Beauchamp, "how is Morrel?"
"Ma foi! I have called three times without once seeing him. Still, his sister did not seem uneasy, and told me that though she had not seen him for two or three days, she was sure he was well."
​"Ah, now I think of it, the Count of Monte-Cristo cannot appear in the hall!" said Beauchamp.
"Why not?"
"Because he is an actor in the drama."
"Has he assassinated any one, then?"
"No, on the contrary, they wished to assassinate him. You know that it was on leaving his house that M. de Caderousse was murdered by his friend Benedetto. You know that the famous waistcoat was found in his house, containing the letter which stopped the signature of the marriage-contract. Do you see the waistcoat? There it is, all blood-stained, on the desk, as a testimony of the crime."
"Ah, very good."
"Hush, gentlemen! here is the court; let us go back to our places."
A noise was heard in the hall; the sergent-de-ville called his two protégés with an energetic "Hem!" and the door-keeper appearing, called out, with that shrill voice peculiar to his order, even in the days of Beaumarchais:
"The court, gentlemen!"