The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II

by Jules Lermina

  CHAPTER XXIX

  FORWARD, MARCH

  When Spero entered the dining-room, a handsome young man abouttwenty-five years of age hurried toward him with outstretched arms.

  "How are you, my dear Spero?" he vivaciously cried.

  "Oh, thank you, very well. Do you know, Gontram, that you couldn't havecome at a more appropriate hour?"

  "Really? That pleases me," said the new-comer, a painter who in spite ofhis youth enjoyed a great reputation. Laying his hand on Spero'sshoulder, he looked steadily at him and earnestly asked: "Has anythingdisagreeable happened to you?"

  "No; what makes you think so?" replied Spero, confused.

  "Your appearance is different from usual. Your eyes sparkle, and you arefeverishly excited. Perhaps you have some secret to intrust to me?"

  In the meantime the young men had seated themselves at table, and whilethey were eating they indulged in general conversation.

  "Do you know that my father has left Paris suddenly?" asked Spero in thecourse of the conversation.

  "No. Where has the count gone to?"

  "I do not know," said the vicomte.

  Gontram Sabran had been acquainted with Spero for two years.

  He had attracted the vicomte's attention through a picture he hadexhibited, and as Spero admired painting, he paid a visit to the creatorof the wonderfully natural painting.

  The picture represented a young gypsy who was playing the violin. Thevicomte sent his father's steward to the artist with an order to buy thecanvas at any price. Gontram Sabran had refused to sell the painting,and the vicomte went personally to the painter.

  "Sir," said Gontram, politely, "you offered me twenty thousand francsfor a picture which is worth far less; that I have nevertheless refusedto sell the picture needs an explanation, and if you are willing, Ishall be happy to give it to you."

  Spero had become curious, and upon his acquiescence Gontram told him thefollowing.

  "I had a girl once who suffered from an incurable disease. We were veryhappy together, enjoyed the present, and thought very little of thefuture. One day, as was customary with us, we undertook a littlepromenade. It led us however further than we intended to go, and beforewe knew it we were in the woods of Meudon. Curious and wonderful soundsawoke us from our reveries, and going to an opening, we saw a younggypsy who was playing the violin and moving her body to and fro to thetime of the instrument. Aimee listened attentively to the heavenlyplaying of the almost childish girl, but suddenly I felt her head leanheavily on my shoulder--she had fainted, and I brought a very sick girlback to Paris.

  "One week later death knocked at her door. Aimee knew she was going todie, and with tears in her eyes she begged me to hunt up the gypsy girland have her play a song to her before she died.

  "What was I to do? I could not find the gypsy, and was almost indespair. On the morning of the fourth day, the invalid suddenly rose inher bed and cried aloud:

  "'There she is, I hear the gypsy's violin--oh, now I can die peacefully!Open the window, Gontram, so that I can hear the music better.'

  "I did as she said, and now the tones of the violin reached my ears. Thedying girl listened breathlessly to the sweet sounds. When the song wasover, Aimee took my hand and whispered:

  "'Bring her up and beg her to play at my bedside.'

  "I hurried into the street and asked the gypsy to fulfil the wish of thedying girl. She did so at once, and sitting beside Aimee she played uponher instrument. How long she played I do not know, but I was thrilled bythe sudden cessation of the music, and when I looked in terror at Aimee,I saw she had drawn her last breath--she had gone to her eternal slumberto the music of the violin.

  "The gypsy disappeared, and I have never seen her since. But I have puther features on canvas as they are engraved in my memory, and you canunderstand now why I do not wish to sell the picture."

  "Monsieur Sabran," said Spero when the painter had finished, "yourlittle romance is interesting, and I am now ready to pay fifty thousandfrancs for the picture."

  Gontram looked pityingly at the vicomte and dryly replied:

  "I stick to my refusal."

  Spero went away disappointed. Two days later he hurried to the painter'sstudio and hesitatingly said:

  "Monsieur Sabran, I treated you the other day in a mean way. Pleaseexcuse me."

  Gontram was surprised. Taking the vicomte's hand, he cordially said:

  "I am glad I was mistaken in you; if features such as yours aredeceitful, then it is bad for humanity."

  From that day on they became firm friends. When the painter saw Spero'sdisturbed features on this particular day, and heard that the count haddeparted, he had an idea that it would do him good.

  "Where did your father go to?" he asked.

  "I do not know," replied Spero, uneasily.

  "What? Your father did not inform you?" asked Gontram.

  "No," replied Spero; "he departed this evening and left a letter for mebehind him."

  "Ah, really, every one does as he pleases," said Gontram. "Do you know Icame here to-day to ask a favor of you?"

  "You couldn't do me a greater pleasure," replied Spero, cheerfully;"everything I possess is at your disposal."

  "I thought so; the next time you will offer me your millions," criedGontram, laughing.

  "I hope you will ask me for something besides wretched money," saidSpero, warmly. "I could gladly fight for you, or do some other importantservice for you."

  "And suppose I was to keep you at your word?" asked Gontram, seriously;"suppose I came here only to demand a sacrifice of you?"

  "Oh, speak!" cried the vicomte, eagerly.

  "H'm, would you for my sake get on top of a stage?" asked Gontram,earnestly. "No, do not look so curiously at me. I know you never didsuch a thing before, and knew what I was talking about when I said Iwould ask a sacrifice of you."

  "I--would--do it--to please you," replied Spero, hesitatingly.

  "I thought so," cried the painter, laughing; "yet I made you theproposition, because I thought you were boring yourself to death here."

  "But--"

  "No, do not protest. You are not happy because you are the slave ofpropriety, and if you were to get in a stage with me it would be aheroic act on your part. If you want to go out, a carriage is at thedoor, the horses already harnessed. You have your own box at thetheatre, and so on. Nowhere do you come in contact with the great world;your life is no life."

  Spero gazed at the painter in astonishment.

  "Why have you not told me all that long ago?" he slowly asked.

  "Because a great deal depends on time and opportunity. If I had told youthis at the commencement of our friendship you would have thought meimpertinent, and I did not come here to-day either to give you alecture. The words came unconsciously to my lips. Your life is that ofa drop of oil which when put in a bottle of water feels itself in astrange element and decidedly uncomfortable."

  Spero bit his lip.

  "Am I ever going to hear what service I can do for you?" he asked with acalmness which reflected honor on his powers of self-control.

  "Bravo, you have already learned something. First fill your wine-glass,otherwise I shall drink all your fine sherry alone."

  The habit of drinking moderately Spero had also learned from his father.

  Upon the remark of the painter, he filled his glass and impatientlysaid:

  "Well?"

  "I would like to make a loan. Don't laugh, but hear what I have to say.I intend to give a little party in my studio--"

  "In your studio?" said Spero in surprise.

  "Yes, it is certainly not as large as the Place Vendome, but thatdoesn't matter. Diogenes lived in a hogshead, and a dozen good friendswill find plenty of room in my house. Let me tell you what gave me theidea. While I was studying in Rome, an aristocratic Italian, CountVellini, took an interest in me. He was my friend, my Macaenas, and I owea great deal to him. The day before yesterday he arrived in Paris, and Ishould like to revenge myself for h
is kindness. As he is amillionnaire--not a millionnaire like you, for he has, at the utmost,five or six millions--I must offer him certain pleasures which cannot beobtained with money. I am going to turn my studio into a picturegallery and exhibit the best works of my numerous friends and my own. Heshall see that I have become something in the meantime, and from what Iknow of him he will be delighted with my idea. I want to furnish myhouse properly, and for this I need some costly tapestries. You havereal treasures of this description. Would you loan me a few pieces?"

  "Is that all?" said Spero, cordially. "You give me joy, and I hope youwill allow me to attend to it."

  "That depends. What do you intend to do?"

  "I would like to ask you to let my decorator take charge of thefurnishing of your studio. To-morrow morning he can select from mystorehouse whatever he thinks best--"

  "And spoil my fun?" interrupted Gontram, frowning. "No, no, I cannotconsent to that. Your decorator may be a very able man, but that isn'tthe question. I know of no greater pleasure than to do everythingaccording to my own taste. But I had almost forgotten the principalthing; I count on your appearance."

  "I generally work at night," replied Spero, hesitating.

  "No rule without an exception," declared the painter; "I have invitedladies too, and I hope you will enjoy yourself."