‘Carmela leant over to a young man who was walking beside her and talking, and said a few words to him, pointing at the girl. He followed the direction indicated by the pretty hand, made a sign of obedience and went across to invite Teresa to join the quadrille led by the count’s daughter.
‘Teresa felt as if a flame had passed across her face. She looked questioningly at Luigi: there was no way to refuse. Luigi slowly let slip Teresa’s arm which he was holding beneath his own, and Teresa went off, trembling, led by her elegant squire, to take her place in the aristocratic quadrille.
‘Admittedly, to an artist, there was a great difference between the austere, restrained costume worn by Teresa and those worn by Carmela and her companions; but Teresa was a frivolous and coquettish young girl; she was dazzled by the embroidered muslin, the buckles on the belts, the sheen on the cashmere; she was driven wild by the sparkling of the sapphires and diamonds.
‘Luigi, on the other hand, was gripped by a previously unknown emotion: it was like a dull pain, gnawing first at his heart, then quivering as it spread through his veins and took possession of his whole body. His eyes followed every movement made by Teresa and her squire. When their hands touched, he felt a sort of dizziness, his heart thumped and it was as though a bell were chiming in his ears. When they spoke, though Teresa was listening shyly and with lowered gaze to the young nobleman’s words, Luigi could read in the man’s eyes that they were compliments, and it seemed to him that the earth was spinning beneath his feet, while all the voices of hell whispered ideas of murder and violence. Then, fearing that he might be carried away by his folly, with one hand he clasped the arbour beneath which he was standing, and with the other he grasped convulsively the dagger with the sculpted hilt which he kept in his belt and which, unconsciously, he was drawing from time to time almost entirely out of its sheath.
‘Luigi was jealous! He realized that Teresa, carried away by her proud and capricious nature, might one day be lost to him.
‘Meanwhile, the young peasant girl, at first shy and almost terrified, had quickly recovered. I said that Teresa was beautiful, but that is not all; she had charm, that savage grace that is so much more powerful than any simpering or affected elegance.
‘She almost had the honours of the quadrille and, though she was certainly envious of the count’s daughter, it is not altogether impossible that Carmela was jealous of her.
‘Her handsome squire led her back, accompanied by many compliments, to the place from which he had taken her, where Luigi was waiting.
‘Two or three times, during the contredanse, the girl had cast an eye in his direction and each time had seen him looking pale and drawn. Once, even, the blade of his knife, half drawn out of the sheath, had cast a sinister shaft of light towards her. So she was almost afraid when she returned to her lover’s arm.
‘The quadrille had been a tremendous success and there was clearly a call for the experiment to be repeated. Only Carmela objected, but the Count of San-Felice begged his daughter so tenderly that she eventually consented.
‘One of the young noblemen went across to invite Teresa, without whom the dance could not take place; but she was gone.
‘What had happened was that Luigi, not feeling strong enough to be tested any further, had led Teresa partly by force and partly by persuasion into another part of the garden. She had gone very unwillingly; but from the young man’s distraught appearance and his silence, broken by nervous twitching, she guessed that something unusual was going on in his mind. She herself was not altogether easy inside and, even though she had not done anything wrong, she understood that Luigi had the right to reproach her. For what? She did not know. Nonetheless she felt that such reproaches would be deserved.
‘Yet, to Teresa’s great astonishment, Luigi remained silent and not a word passed his lips throughout the rest of the evening. But when the chill of the night had driven the guests from the gardens and the doors of the villa had been closed against them while the ball continued indoors, he took Teresa back home and, as she was about to go in, asked: “Teresa, what were you thinking of while you were dancing opposite the young Countess of San-Felice?”
‘ “I was thinking,” the girl answered in all frankness, “that I should give half my life to have a costume like the one she was wearing.”
‘ “And what did your partner say?”
‘ “He told me that it was up to me if I should have such a dress, I had only to say one word.”
‘ “He was right,” Luigi replied. “Do you want it as desperately as you say?”
‘ “Yes.”
‘ “Then you shall have it!”
‘The young girl looked up in astonishment to ask for an explanation, but his face was so sombre and fearful that the question froze on her lips. In any case, while he was speaking, Luigi had started to walk away. Teresa looked after him until he disappeared into the darkness and, when she could no longer see him, she sighed and went into her house.
‘That same night a great accident occurred, no doubt because of the neglectfulness of some servant who had forgotten to put out the lights: the Villa San-Felice caught fire, in the very wing where the beautiful Carmela had her apartments. Woken up in the middle of the night by the glow of the flames, she had leapt out of bed, pulled on her nightgown and tried to escape through the door; but the corridor outside was already enveloped in flames. So she returned to her room, crying loudly for help, when suddenly her window, which was twenty feet off the ground, flew open and a young peasant lad burst into the apartment, took her in his arms and, with superhuman strength and agility, carried her out and down to the lawn, where she fainted. When she regained her senses, her father was standing in front of her, surrounded by all the servants who were trying to help her. A whole wing of the villa had burned down – but what did it matter, since Carmela was safe and sound?
‘They looked everywhere for her saviour, but he did not appear. Everyone was questioned; no one had seen him. As for Carmela, she was so overwhelmed by events that she did not recognize him.
‘In any event, as the count was immensely rich, apart from the danger that had threatened Carmela – and which appeared to him, thanks to her miraculous escape from it, more like a new sign that fate was smiling on him, rather than a real disaster – the loss caused by the flames mattered very little to him.
‘The next day, at the usual time, the two young peasants met on the edge of the forest. Luigi was the first to arrive. He came joyfully to meet the girl, apparently having entirely forgotten what had passed between them the previous evening. Teresa was pensive but, when she saw Luigi’s good humour, she adopted the attitude of merry insouciance which was her natural temperament when no greater passion happened to disturb it.
‘Luigi took Teresa’s arm in his and led her to the door of the cave. There he stopped. The girl, realizing that something extraordinary was up, stared closely at him.
‘ “Teresa,” he said, “yesterday evening you told me that you would give everything to have a costume like that of the count’s daughter?”
‘ “Yes,” she replied with amazement, “but I was mad to make such a wish.”
‘ “And I told you: very well, you shall have it?”
‘ “Yes,” the girl said, her astonishment growing with every word that Luigi spoke. “But I suppose you only said that to please me.”
‘ “I have never promised you anything which I have not given you, Teresa,” Luigi said proudly. “Go into the grotto, and dress yourself.”
‘At this, he rolled back the stone and showed Teresa the inside of the cave, lit by two candles burning on each side of a splendid mirror. On a rustic table which Luigi had made were the pearl necklace and diamond pins; on a chair beside them, the rest of the costume.
‘Teresa gave a cry of joy and, without asking where the dress had come from or taking the time to thank Luigi, she dashed into the cave which had been transformed into her dressing-room.
‘Luigi pulled the stone ba
ck behind her, because he had just noticed a traveller on horseback on the crest of a little hill that blocked the view between where he was and the town of Palestrina. The rider had paused as if uncertain of his way and was outlined against the blue sky with the peculiar sharpness given to distant objects by the atmosphere in southern lands.
‘When he saw Luigi, the traveller galloped down towards him. Luigi had been right: the man was going from Palestrina to Tivoli and had lost his way. The young man put him on the right track; however, since the road divided again into three paths, when the traveller reached them he might lose his way once more, so he begged Luigi to act as his guide.
‘Luigi took off his cloak and put it on the ground, slung his carbine over his shoulder and, free of his heavy shepherd’s mantle, walked ahead of the traveller with the rapid pace of a mountain-dweller with which even a walking horse has difficulty in keeping up.
‘In ten minutes the two of them had reached the sort of crossroads that the young shepherd had mentioned. Here, with a majestic gesture like that of an emperor, Luigi pointed to the one of the three roads that the traveller should follow.
‘ “There is your way, Excellency,” he said. “You cannot make a mistake from here on.”
‘ “And here is your reward,” the traveller said, offering the young shepherd a few small coins.
‘ “Thank you,” said Luigi, withdrawing his hand. “I give services, I don’t sell them.”
‘The traveller seemed used to this difference between the servility of the townsman and the pride of the countryman: “Very well,” he said. ‘If you refuse payment, at least accept a gift.”
‘ “Ah, that is another matter.”
‘ “Fine! Take these two Venetian sequins and give them to your fiancée to make a pair of earrings.”
‘ “And you, then, take this dagger,” said the young shepherd. “You will not find one with a better-carved handle between Albano and Civita Castellana.”
‘ “I accept,” said the traveller. “But in that case, it is I who shall be in your debt, because this dagger is worth more than two sequins.”
‘ “To a shopkeeper, perhaps, but to me, who carved it myself, it is hardly worth one piastre.”
‘ “What is your name?” asked the traveller.
‘ “Luigi Vampa,” the shepherd replied, in the same accents in which he might have said: Alexander, king of Macedonia. “And yours?”
‘ “I,” said the traveller, “am called Sinbad the Sailor.” ’
Franz d’Epinay gave a cry of astonishment.
‘Sinbad the Sailor!’ he exclaimed.
‘Yes,’ the storyteller answered. ‘That was the name that the traveller told Vampa.’
‘What do you have against the name?’ Albert interrupted. ‘It’s a very fine one, and the adventures of the gentleman’s patron, I must admit, entertained me greatly when I was young.’
Franz did not insist. As one may understand, the name of Sinbad the Sailor had brought back a flood of memories to him, as had the name of the Count of Monte Cristo the previous evening.
‘Continue,’ he told his host.
‘Vampa disdainfully put the sequins into his pocket and slowly returned the way he had come. When he had arrived within two or three hundred yards of the cave, he thought he heard a cry. He stopped, listening to make out where it came from. A moment later, he clearly heard someone calling his name. The sound was coming from the grotto.
‘He leapt like a chamois, cocking his gun as he ran, and in less than a minute he had reached the top of the hill opposite the one on which he had seen the traveller. From there, he could hear the cry of “Help, help!” more clearly than ever. He looked down into the hollow below him and saw that a man was carrying Teresa off, just as the centaur Nessus carried off Deianira.
‘The man was making his way towards the woods and had already reached the halfway point between there and the cave.
‘Vampa measured the distance. They were at least two hundred yards ahead of him; he had no hope of catching them up before they reached the woods.
‘The young shepherd stopped as if his feet had grown roots. He put the gun to his cheek, slowly raised the barrel towards the ravisher, followed this moving target for a second and fired. The man stopped in his tracks. His knees buckled and he fell, taking Teresa down with him.
‘However, she got up immediately. As for the man, he stayed on the ground, thrashing in agony.
‘Vampa at once ran towards Teresa because she had not got ten paces away from the dying man when her own legs failed her and she fell to her knees. The young peasant was terrified that the shot which had just brought down his enemy might have wounded her at the same time.
‘Fortunately this was not the case; sheer terror had deprived Teresa of strength. When Luigi was quite sure that she was safe and sound, he turned to the wounded man.
‘He had just expired, with his fists clenched, his mouth twisted in pain and his hair rigid with the sweat of his final agony. His eyes had remained open and threatening.
‘Vampa went across to the corpse and recognized Cucumetto.
‘On the day when the bandit had been saved by the two young people, he had fallen in love with Teresa and had sworn that the girl would be his. Since that time he had spied on her and, taking advantage of the moment when her lover left her alone to show the traveller his way, he had abducted her and already considered her his own when Vampa’s bullet, guided by his unerring aim, went straight through Cucumetto’s heart.
‘Vampa looked at him for a moment without showing the slightest sign of emotion, while Teresa, on the contrary, was still trembling and only dared to creep towards the dead bandit and cautiously take a look at him over her lover’s shoulder.
‘After a short time, Vampa turned to his mistress and said: “Ah, good! You are dressed. Now it’s my turn to get ready.”
‘Teresa was indeed dressed from head to foot in the costume belonging to the daughter of the Count of San-Felice.
‘Vampa took Cucumetto’s body in his arms and carried it into the grotto while Teresa remained outside. If at this time a second traveller had ridden past, he would have seen something odd: a shepherdess watching her sheep in a cashmere dress, with pearl earrings and necklace, diamond pins and buttons of sapphires, emeralds and rubies. He would no doubt have thought he had been transported back into the age of Florian4 and on his return to Paris would have sworn that he had seen the Shepherdess of the Alps seated at the foot of the Sabine Mountains.
‘After a quarter of an hour Vampa came out of the cave. His costume was no less elegant in its way than Teresa’s. He had on a jacket of garnet-coloured velvet with wrought-gold buttons, a waistcoat covered in embroidery, a Roman scarf knotted around his neck and a cartridge-belt picked out in gold leaf and ornamented with red and green silk. He had sky-blue velvet trousers, fastened above the knee with diamond buckles, richly tooled buckskin gaiters and a hat decorated with ribbons in every colour. Two watches hung at his waist and there was a splendid dagger set in his cartridge belt.
‘Teresa cried out in admiration. Dressed in this way, Vampa looked like a painting by Léopold Robert or Schnetz.5 He had decked himself out in Cucumetto’s entire costume.
‘He observed the effect of this on his fiancée and a smile of pride crossed his lips. “Now,” he said, “are you ready to share my fortune, whatever it may be?”
‘ “Oh, yes!” the girl exclaimed eagerly.
‘ “To follow me wherever I lead?”
‘ “To the ends of the earth.”
‘ “Then take my arm and let’s go, for we have no time to lose.”
‘The girl took her lover’s arm without even asking where they were going; for, at that moment, he seemed to her as handsome, as proud and as powerful as a god. In a few moments the couple had crossed into the forest and began to proceed through it.
‘It goes without saying that Vampa knew all the mountain tracks, so he went forward into the forest without hesitat
ion, even though there was no path before them, finding his way merely by looking at the trees and bushes. They walked for about an hour and a half.
‘After that, they reached the thickest part of the wood. A dry river-bed led into a deep gorge. Vampa took this strange path which, enclosed between two banks and darkened by the thick shade of the pines, resembled in everything but the ease of descent the path of the Avernus6 of which Virgil speaks.
‘Teresa’s fears had returned at the sight of this wild and desolate place. She pressed close to her guide, saying nothing; but, seeing that he continued to walk ahead at an even pace with a profound look of tranquillity on his face, she herself found the strength to hide her feelings.
‘Suddenly, ten yards ahead of them, a man seemed to appear from the very trunk of the tree behind which he had been concealed, and levelled his gun at Vampa, crying: “Not another step, or you are a dead man!”
‘ “Come now,” said Vampa, raising his hand in a contemptuous gesture, while Teresa clung to him, no longer able to conceal her terror. “Do wolves fight among themselves?”
‘ “Who are you?” asked the sentry.
‘ “I am Luigi Vampa, shepherd from the farm of San-Felice.”
‘ “And what do you want?”
‘ “I wish to speak to your companions who are in the clearing of Rocca Bianca.”
‘ “Then follow me,” said the sentry. “Or, rather, as you know where it is, lead the way.”
‘Vampa smiled contemptuously at this precaution, stepped ahead with Teresa and continued on his way with the same calm, firm step that had brought him this far.
‘In five minutes the bandit signalled to them to stop. They did so. The bandit gave the cry of a crow three times, and it was answered by a single cawing.
‘ “Very well,” said the bandit. “Now you can carry on.”
‘Luigi and Teresa did so; but as they advanced, Teresa trembled and pressed even closer to her lover: through the trees they could see weapons appearing and the sunlight glittering on the barrels of guns.
‘The clearing at Rocca Bianca was on the summit of a little mountain which had no doubt previously been a volcano, but one that had become extinct before Romulus and Remus left Alba to come and build Rome. Teresa and Luigi reached the summit and were immediately confronted with about twenty bandits.
The Count of Monte Cristo (Penguin Classics eBook) Page 46