‘Precisely!’ said Morcerf.
‘What do you mean, “precisely”?’
‘I mean, it was Lord Ruthwen himself.’
‘What Lord Ruthwen?’
‘Ours, the vampire, the one from the Teatro Argentina.’
‘Really!’ the countess exclaimed. ‘Is he here?’
‘Indeed he is.’
‘And you see him? You receive him? You visit him?’
‘We are close friends; even Monsieur de Château-Renaud here has the honour of knowing him.’
‘What makes you think that he was the winner?’
‘His horse ran under the name Vampa.’
‘So?’
‘Don’t you remember the name of the famous bandit who took me prisoner?’
‘Of course!’
‘From whose hands the count miraculously saved me?’
‘Indeed…’
‘His name was Vampa. So, you see, it must be him.’
‘But why did he send me the cup?’
‘First of all, Countess, because I often mentioned you to him, as you may well imagine. Then, because he was delighted at finding a compatriot and pleased by the interest that this compatriot took in him.’
‘I hope you never told him of the silly things we used to say about him!’
‘I can’t swear it… And, in fact, this idea of giving you the cup under the name of Lord Ruthwen…’
‘This is terrible! He will be fearfully angry with me.’
‘Is he behaving as if he was?’
‘No, admittedly…’
‘Well, then!’
‘So, you’re telling me he’s in Paris?’
‘Yes.’
‘And what sort of a stir has he caused?’
‘Oh,’ said Albert, ‘they did talk about him for a week. Then there was the coronation of the Queen of England and the theft of Mademoiselle Mars’ diamonds, and no one talked about anything else.’
‘My dear fellow,’ said Château-Renaud, ‘one can see that the count is your friend and you treat him accordingly. Don’t believe what Albert is saying, Countess, because the truth is that no one in Paris is talking about anything except the Count of Monte Cristo. The first thing he did was to send Madame Danglars some horses worth thirty thousand francs. Then he saved Madame de Villefort’s life, and now it appears he has won the Jockey-Club race. Despite what Morcerf says, I maintain that people are still talking about the count at the moment and that they will talk about him even more a month from now, if he carries on behaving in this eccentric manner – which appears, in the event, to be his normal way of carrying on.’
‘Maybe,’ said Morcerf. ‘Meanwhile, who has taken up the Russian ambassador’s box?’
‘Which?’ the countess asked.
‘The one between the columns, in the first tier. It looks as though it has been entirely done up.’
‘So it does,’ said Château-Renaud. ‘Was there someone there in the first act?’
‘Where?’
‘In that box?’
‘No,’ said the countess. ‘I didn’t see anyone.’ Then, returning to the original subject of the conversation: ‘You think that your Count of Monte Cristo won the prize?’
‘I’m certain of it.’
‘And sent me the cup?’
‘No doubt about it.’
‘But I don’t know him,’ said the countess. ‘I’m quite tempted to send it back.’
‘Oh, don’t do that! He would send you another, carved out of sapphire or rubies. He does those things. One must take him as he is.’
At that moment the bell rang to announce that the second act was about to begin. Albert got up to return to his place.
‘Shall I see you?’ the countess asked.
‘In the intervals, if you permit, I may come and find out if I can be of some use to you while you are in Paris.’
‘Gentlemen,’ the countess said, ‘I am at home to my friends every Saturday evening at number twenty-two, Rue de Rivoli. So now you know.’ The two young men bowed and went out.
As they came back into the theatre, they saw everyone standing in the stalls, all eyes turned towards a single point in the room. They turned their own eyes in the same direction and stopped at what had once been the Russian ambassador’s box. A man in black, aged between thirty-five and forty, had just entered with a woman in oriental dress. The woman was strikingly beautiful and her costume so ornate that, as we said, all eyes were immediately fixed on her.
‘Well, well!’ said Albert. ‘It’s Monte Cristo and his Greek!’ It was indeed the count and Haydée.
A moment later the young woman was the object of attention not only from the stalls but throughout the theatre. Women were leaning out of their boxes to see the cascade of diamonds shining in the light of the chandeliers.
The second act was played against that dull murmuring which is the response of a large crowd to some great event. No one thought of shouting: ‘Silence!’ The woman, so young, so beautiful and so dazzling, was the most interesting spectacle to be had.
This time, a sign from Baroness Danglars clearly indicated to Albert that she wished him to call on her in the next interval. Morcerf was too well bred to keep someone waiting when they had shown that they wanted to speak to him, so, when the act ended, he hurried up to the box in the front of the house. There he greeted the two ladies and held out his hand to Debray. The baroness welcomed him with a charming smile and Eugénie with her habitual icy indifference.
‘My good fellow,’ said Debray, ‘you see before you a man at the end of his tether, begging you to assist him. Madame has been deluging me with questions about the count: what he is, where he comes from, where he is going… Dammit, I’m not Cagliostro! So, to get out of it, I said: “Ask Morcerf, he knows his Monte Cristo like the back of his hand.” That’s why we called you.’
‘Isn’t it incredible,’ said the baroness, ‘that someone with half a million in secret funds at his disposal can be so ill-informed?’
‘Madame,’ Lucien said, ‘please believe me when I tell you that, if I had half a million at my disposal, I should use it for some other purpose than making enquiries about Monsieur de Monte Cristo, who has no merit as far as I can see apart from being twice as rich as a nabob. But I am handing over to my friend Morcerf. Settle it with him, it’s no longer my business.’
‘A nabob would certainly not have sent me a pair of horses worth thirty thousand francs, with four diamonds at their ears, each worth five thousand francs.’
‘Ah, diamonds!’ Morcerf said, laughing. ‘He has a passion for them. I think that, like Potemkin, he always has some in his pocket and spreads them along his path as Tom Thumb did with his pebbles.’
‘He must have found a diamond mine,’ said Mme Danglars. ‘Do you know that he has unlimited credit with the baron’s bank?’
‘I didn’t know,’ Albert replied. ‘But it doesn’t surprise me.’
‘And that he told Monsieur Danglars that he meant to stay a year in Paris and spend six millions?’
‘He must be the Shah of Persia travelling incognito.’
‘The woman, Monsieur Lucien,’ said Eugénie; ‘have you noticed how beautiful she is?’
‘Really, Mademoiselle, you are the only woman I know who is so generous in speaking about others of your own sex.’
Lucien put his eye-glass to his eye. ‘Delightful!’ he said.
‘Does Monsieur Morcerf know who she is?’
‘Mademoiselle,’ Albert said, in reply to this almost direct question, ‘I do know, more or less, as I more or less know everything relating to this mysterious personage. The young woman is Greek.’
‘It is easy to see that by her dress, so you’re telling me nothing that all the rest of the theatre doesn’t already know.’
‘I much regret,’ said Morcerf, ‘that I am such an ignorant guide, but I have to admit that my information goes no further than that – though I do also know that she is a musician, because one day, when I was lu
nching with the count, I heard the sound of a guzla which only she could have been playing.’
‘So he gives lunch, does he, your count?’ asked Mme Danglars.
‘Magnificently, believe me.’
‘I must urge Danglars to offer him a dinner or a ball; then he will invite us back.’
‘What! You would visit him?’ Debray said, laughing.
‘Why not? With my husband.’
‘But he is a bachelor, this mysterious count.’
‘Not at all, as you can plainly see,’ the baroness said, laughing in her turn and indicating the beautiful Greek.
‘The woman is a slave, as he told us himself. Do you remember, Morcerf, at your breakfast?’
‘You must admit, Lucien,’ said the baroness, ‘that she looks more like a princess.’
‘From the Thousand and One Nights.’
‘Agreed: from the Thousand and One Nights. But what makes a princess, my dear? Diamonds, and she’s covered in them.’
‘Too much so, in fact,’ said Eugénie. ‘She would be more beautiful without them, because you could see her neck and her wrists, which are delightfully shapely.’
‘There speaks the artist!’ said Mme Danglars. ‘See what an enthusiast she is!’
‘I love everything beautiful,’ said Eugénie.
‘So what do you think of the count?’ said Debray. ‘He strikes me as not too bad himself.’
‘The count?’ said Eugénie, as if she had not previously considered looking at him. ‘He’s very pale, your count.’
‘Precisely,’ said Morcerf. ‘The secret we are looking for lies in that pallor. You know, Countess G—claims he is a vampire.’
‘Countess G—? Is she back, then?’ asked the baroness.
‘In that side box,’ Eugénie said. ‘Look, mother, almost opposite us: she’s that woman with the magnificent blonde hair.’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Mme Danglars. ‘Morcerf, do you know what you should do?’
‘I am at your command, Madame.’
‘You should go and visit your Count of Monte Cristo and bring him back here.’
‘Why?’ asked Eugénie.
‘So that we can talk to him. Aren’t you curious to see him?’
‘Not at all.’
‘Peculiar child!’ the baroness muttered.
‘Look!’ said Morcerf. ‘He’ll probably come of his own accord. He’s seen you, Madame, and is bowing to you.’
The baroness returned the count’s greeting, together with a charming smile.
‘Very well, then,’ said Morcerf. ‘It’s up to me. I must leave you while I go and see if there is not some way of talking to him.’
‘Simple: go into his box.’
‘But I haven’t been introduced.’
‘To whom?’
‘To the beautiful Greek.’
‘Didn’t you say she was a slave?’
‘Yes, but you claim she is a princess… No, I hope that when he sees me go out, he will do the same.’
‘Perhaps. Off you go then.’
‘I am going.’
Morcerf bowed and left. As predicted, when he walked past the count’s box, the door opened. The count said a few words in Arabic to Ali, who stood in the corridor, and took Morcerf’s arm.
Ali shut the door and stood in front of it. People gathered around the Nubian in the corridor.
‘Really,’ Monte Cristo said, ‘Paris is an odd city and you Parisians an odd people. Anyone would think that this was the first time they had seen a Nubian. Look at them crowding round poor Ali, who doesn’t know what to make of it. I guarantee one thing, however, which is that a Parisian could go to Tunis, Constantinople, Baghdad or Cairo, and no crowd would gather around him.’
‘That is because your Orientals are sensible folk who only look at something when it is worth looking at. But I can assure you that Ali is enjoying this popularity for no reason except that he belongs to you, because you are the man à la mode just now.’
‘Really? To what do I owe that distinction?’
‘To yourself – what else? You give away horseflesh to the value of a thousand louis, you save the life of the king’s prosecutor, you dub yourself Major Brack to race thoroughbreds ridden by jockeys no bigger than marmosets and, finally, you win gold cups and send them to beautiful women.’
‘Who the devil told you of all these follies?’
‘Why, the first comes from Madame Danglars, who is dying to see you in her box – or, rather, for people to see you there; the second I had from Beauchamp’s newspaper; and the third I worked out for myself. Why do you call your horse Vampa, if you wish to remain incognito?’
‘True, true!’ said the count. ‘That was unwise of me. But tell me, does the Comte de Morcerf never come to the opera? I looked around for him but could not find him anywhere.’
‘He will be here this evening.’
‘Where?’
‘In the baroness’s box, I think.’
‘And the enchanting young lady with her is her daughter?’
‘Yes.’
‘I compliment you.’
Morcerf smiled.
‘We must speak of that later, and at length,’ he said. ‘How do you find the music?’
‘What music?’
‘The music you have just heard.’
‘I think it’s very good for music composed by a human composer and sung by birds with two feet and no feathers, as the late Diogenes remarked.’
‘My dear Count, you speak as though you could, at will, call up the seven choirs of paradise.’
‘That’s more or less the case. When I want to listen to fine music, Vicomte, music such as mortal ear has never heard, I sleep.’
‘Well, this is the perfect place. Sleep away, my dear Count, sleep away. The Opera was designed for no other purpose.’
‘No, I can’t: your orchestra is making too much noise. For me to enjoy the kind of sleep I mean, I need calm and silence; and a particular kind of preparation…’
‘Ah, the famous hashish?’
‘Precisely. Viscount, when you want to hear some music, come and take supper with me.’
‘But I have already heard it at lunch,’ said Morcerf.
‘In Rome?’
‘Yes.’
‘Of course! That was Haydée’s guzla. The poor exile sometimes amuses herself by playing me some of her native airs.’
Morcerf did not press the matter, and the count, for his part, fell silent. At that moment the bell rang.
‘Will you excuse me?’ said the count, going back towards his box.
‘What?’
‘My best wishes to Countess G—from her vampire.’
‘And the baroness?’
‘Tell her that I should be honoured, if she would allow me to present my compliments to her in the course of the evening.’
The third act began. During it, the Comte de Morcerf came, as he had promised, to join Mme Danglars. Morcerf was not one of those people who cause a commotion in the auditorium, so no one noticed his arrival except the others in the box where he took his seat. However, Monte Cristo saw him, and a hint of a smile hovered on his lips. As for Haydée, she saw nothing from the moment when the curtain rose. Like all primitive natures, she adored everything that appealed to her eyes and her ears.
The third act followed its usual course. Mlles Noblet, Julia and Leroux1 executed their accustomed entrechats; the Prince of Grenada was challenged by Robert-Mario; and finally the magnificent king (already familiar to you) strode round the theatre showing off his velvet cloak and leading his daughter by the hand. Then the curtain fell, and the audience immediately repaired to the foyer and the corridors.
The count came out of his box and a moment later appeared in that of Baroness Danglars. The baroness could not restrain a cry of surprise, in which there was a hint of joy.
‘Come in, Count, come in!’ she exclaimed. ‘I have been anxious to add my verbal thanks to those I had already conveyed to you in writing.’
‘Oh, Madame,’ said the count, ‘do you still remember that trifle? I had forgotten it.’
‘Perhaps, but what cannot be forgotten, Monsieur le Comte, is that the very next day you saved my good friend Madame de Villefort from the danger she was in with those same horses.’
‘Once again, Madame, I do not deserve your thanks. It was my Nubian servant, Ali, who was fortunate enough to be able to perform this service for Madame de Villefort.’
‘Was it also Ali,’ asked the Comte de Morcerf, ‘who rescued my son from the Roman bandits?’
‘No, Count,’ said Monte Cristo, shaking the hand that the general offered him. ‘No, this time I will take the thanks for myself. But you had already offered them, I had received them and, in truth, I am embarrassed to find you still so grateful. Please do me the honour, Madame la Baronne, of introducing me to your daughter.’
‘You are already introduced, at least in name, for we have spoken of nothing except you over the past two or three days. Eugénie,’ the baroness went on, turning to her daughter, ‘the Count of Monte Cristo!’
The count bowed and Mlle Danglars gave a slight nod of the head.
‘You are accompanied by a splendid young woman, Monsieur le Comte,’ said Eugénie. ‘Is she your daughter?’
‘No, Mademoiselle,’ Monte Cristo replied, astonished at what was either great naïvety or amazing insolence. ‘She is a poor Greek; I am her guardian.’
‘And her name?’
‘Haydée,’ Monte Cristo replied.
‘A Greek!’ the Comte de Morcerf muttered.
‘Yes, Count,’ said Mme Danglars. ‘But tell me if you have ever seen in the court of Ali Tebelin,2 at which you served with such distinction, as admirable a costume as that.’
‘Ah!’ said Monte Cristo. ‘You served in Janina, Count?’
‘I was inspector-general to the pasha’s troops,’ Morcerf replied. ‘I do not disguise the fact that I owe my fortune, such as it is, to the generosity of the illustrious Albanian leader.’
‘Look at that!’ Mme Danglars urged.
‘At what?’ muttered Morcerf.
‘Well, well!’ said Monte Cristo, wrapping his arm round the count and leaning out of the box.
At that moment Haydée, who had been looking around for the count, saw his pale features beside those of M. de Morcerf, whom he was clasping. The sight produced the same effect as a Medusa on the girl. She started forward as if to devour both of them with her eyes, then, almost immediately, leapt back with a weak cry – which was, however, heard by those closest to her and by Ali, who at once opened the door.
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