The Son of Monte-Cristo, Volume II

by Jules Lermina

  CHAPTER XXXIII

  THE CATASTROPHE

  The two men looked at each other with flaming eyes. In Toulon they werechained together, and now--

  Anselmo had reversed the letters of his name and called himself Melosan.In Toulon they were both on the same moral plane, but since then theirways as well as their characters had changed. Benedetto sank lower andlower day by day, while Anselmo worked hard to obliterate the stigma ofa galley-slave.

  Benedetto, bold and impudent, looked at his former chain-companion, anda mocking smile played about his lips. Anselmo, however, lost little bylittle his assurance, and finally implored Benedetto to leave, saying:

  "We two have nothing in common any more."

  "That is a question. Sit down and listen to me."

  "No, Benedetto, we are done with each other."

  "Nonsense--you have become virtuous all of a sudden," mocked CountVellini's secretary.

  "Would to God it were so. When we were in Toulon an unfortunate accidentbrought us together; a far more unfortunate one separated us. Since thenit has been my endeavor to have the sins which led me to the Bagnioatoned for by an honest life. I do not care to know what kind of a lifeyou have led. All I ask is that in the future we meet as strangers, andI hope you will consent to my wish!"

  "And if I do not do so?" asked Benedetto, laying his hand upon hisformer comrade's shoulder. "Suppose I will not forget you nor want to beforgotten by you?"

  Anselmo moaned aloud.

  "Moan away," continued Benedetto. "I know all the details of your pastlife, and if you have forgotten anything I am in a position to refreshyour memory."

  "I--do not--understand you," stammered Anselmo.

  "Think of the past," replied Benedetto, frowning.

  "Of the time when the smith fastened us to the same chain?"

  "Oh, think again."

  Anselmo trembled.

  "Do you speak of the moment when we jumped into the sea and escaped fromthe galleys?" he softly asked.

  "No; your memory seems to be weak."

  "I do not know what you mean."

  "Really? You seem to have drunk from the spring of Lethe," saidBenedetto, contemptuously. "Anselmo, have you forgotten our meeting atBeaussuet?"

  "Scoundrel! miserable wretch! Do you really dare to remind me of that?"cried Anselmo, beside himself.

  "Why not?"

  "If you can do so--no power on earth can induce me to say another wordabout that horrible affair," said Anselmo, shuddering.

  "My nerves are better than yours," laughed Benedetto. "It was only tospeak to you about that particular night that I braved the danger ofhunting you up. I need you as a witness, and that is why you see mehere."

  "As a witness?" exclaimed Anselmo, in surprise. "Either you are crazy orelse I shall become so. Benedetto, if I open my mouth the gallows willbe your fate!"

  "That is my business and need not worry you at all. Do you remember thenight of the 24th of February, 1839? Yes or no?"

  "Yes," groaned Anselmo.

  "No jeremiads! Do you also remember the vicarage at Beaussuet?"

  "Yes."

  "Well, a certain person came expressly from Toulon to see about a sum ofmoney, a million--"

  "I have not touched a penny of the money," interrupted Anselmo,shuddering.

  "No, certainly not, you were always unselfish. Well, do not interruptme. The person who came from Toulon (_recte_ Benedetto) was just aboutto put the sum of money in his pocket, when the devil sent a strangerwho--"

  "Benedetto, if you are a human being and not a devil, keep silent,"cried Anselmo, beside himself.

  Benedetto shrugged his shoulders.

  "You are a fool," he said, contemptuously. "I heard two persons on thestairs. I hid behind the door, with a knife in my right hand. The dooropened. The shadow of a form appeared in the door, and I struck. I feltthe knife sink deep into a human breast."

  "Wretch! It was the breast of your mother!" stammered Anselmo.

  "Ah, your memory is returning to you," mocked Benedetto, with a cynicalsmile. "Yes, it was my mother. But how did you know it?"

  "I met the unfortunate woman on the way in the gorges of Oliolles--"

  "Ah! and there she told you the story of her life."

  "She begged me to help her save her son, and I promised to do so; I knewthat you were that wretched son."

  "Did she tell you her name?" said Benedetto, uneasily.

  "She hid nothing from me. I found out that the son she wished to saveintended to murder her--"

  "Facts," said Benedetto, roughly, "and less talk."

  "And that this son was a child of sin."

  "Ah, really; and her name?"

  "She made me swear to keep it secret."

  "So much the better! She really thought, then, that a galley-slave was aman of his word?"

  "Galley-slave or not, I have kept silent, and will do so further."

  "You are a hero! Nevertheless, you can tell me the name."

  "No!"

  "And if I demand it?"

  "I won't tell you, either."

  "Anselmo, have a care!" hissed Benedetto, angrily. "Tell me the name,or--"

  "I am silent," declared Anselmo; "you do not know the name, and you willnever learn it from me."

  Benedetto broke into a coarse laugh.

  "You are either very naive," he said, "or think I am. I only wished tosee if you had not forgotten the name. The lady was Madame Danglars."

  Anselmo uttered a cry of rage.

  "Well, preacher of words, what do you say now?" asked Benedetto,politely.

  "Since you know the name, we are done with each other," said Anselmo,"and I think you will now leave me in peace."

  "You are wrong, my dear Anselmo; do you know that you are verydisrespectful?"

  Anselmo began to ponder whether it would not be better to appear morefriendly to the hated comrade.

  "Benedetto," he said, in a gentle voice, "why should we be enemies? Iknow you had reason to be angry a little while ago, but the recollectionof that fearful night unmanned me, and I did not know what I wasspeaking about. At that time, too, I was terribly excited--"

  "As I had reason to notice," interrupted Benedetto. "You were ready tokill me."

  "Let us forget all that," said Anselmo, hastily. "You came here to ask afavor of me and I was a fool to refuse. We have both the same interestsin keeping our past history from the world. Therefore speak. If what youdesire is within the limits of reason, it shall be done."

  "Bravo! you please me now, Anselmo," cried Benedetto, laughing. "Atlength you have become sensible. But tell me, is the little onehandsome? For it is natural that your reform has been brought about by awoman; you always were an admirer and connoisseur of the fair sex."

  Anselmo sprang upon Benedetto and, holding his clinched fist in hisface, he said:

  "Benedetto, if you care to live, don't say another word!"

  "And why?" asked the wretch, with silent contempt.

  "Because I shall not stand it," replied Anselmo, coldly. "You have me inyour power, Benedetto. With an anonymous letter you could denounce meto-morrow as an escaped galley-slave and have me sent back to thegalleys. I would not care a snap for that, but I most emphaticallyforbid you to throw a slur upon the reputation of the woman who liveswith me under this roof."

  "You forbid me? Come now, Anselmo, you speak in a peculiar tone," hissedBenedetto.

  "I speak exactly in the tone the matter demands. You know my opinion;conduct yourself accordingly."

  "And if I did not care to obey you?"

  "Then I would denounce you, even though I put my own neck in danger."

  "Ha! ha! I tell you you won't do anything of the kind."

  "Listen," said Anselmo, "you do not know me. Yes, I was a wretch, aperjurer, worse than any highwayman. But I have suffered, sufferedterribly for my sins, and since years it has been my only ambition tolead a blameless life as repentance for my crimes. I have taken care ofa poor helpless being, and to defend he
r I will sacrifice my life. Ibear everything to shield her from grief and misery; in fact, if it werenecessary, I would accept her contempt, for if she ever found out who Iam, she would despise me."

  "Have you pen, ink and paper?" asked Benedetto, after Anselmo hadconcluded.

  "Yes. What do you want to do with them?"

  "You shall soon find out."

  Anselmo silently pointed to a table upon which writing materials lay.Benedetto dipped the pen in the ink, and, grinning, said:

  "My friend, have the kindness to take this pen and write what Idictate."

  "I?"

  "Yes, you. I only want you to write a few lines."

  "What shall I write?"

  "The truth."

  "I do not understand you."

  "It is very simple; you will write down what you have just said."

  "Explain yourself more clearly."

  "With pleasure; better still, write what I dictate."

  Anselmo looked uneasily at the wretch; Benedetto quietly walked behindthe ex-priest's chair, and began:

  "On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict from thegalleys of Toulon, murdered Madame Danglars, his mother."

  "That is horrible!" cried Anselmo, throwing the pen down; "I shall notwrite that."

  "You will write; you know I can force you; therefore--"

  Anselmo sighed, and took up the pen again.

  "So, I am done now," he said, after a pause; "must it be signed, too?"

  "Certainly; though the name has nothing to do with it. You can put anyone you please under it."

  It sounded very simple, and yet Anselmo hesitated.

  "No," he firmly said, "I will not do it. I know you are up to sometrick, and I do not intend to assist you."

  Benedetto laughed in a peculiar way.

  "I know you are not rich," said the pretended secretary, "and--"

  Anselmo made a threatening gesture, but Benedetto continued:

  "I was at this window for some time. Count Vellini's house is next doorto this, and I had no difficulty in getting here. I saw you countingyour secret treasure, and consequently--"

  Unconsciously Anselmo glanced at the portfolio which lay on the table.Benedetto noticed it and laughed maliciously.

  "Yes, there lies your fortune," he said contemptuously. "The leanbank-notes you counted a little while ago will not keep you long aboveboard."

  "But I have not asked for anything," murmured Anselmo.

  "I offer you a price."

  Benedetto drew an elegant portfolio from his pocket, and took tenthousand-franc notes out of it which he laid upon the table. "Finish andsign the paper I dictated," he coldly said, "and the money is yours."

  Anselmo grew pale. Did Benedetto know of his troubles? Had he read histhoughts?

  "I will not do it," he said, rising up. "Keep your money, Benedetto; itwould bring me misfortune."

  Benedetto uttered a cry of rage, and, grasping the pen, he seatedhimself at the table and wrote a few words.

  "So," he said, with a satanic gleam in his eyes as he held the paperunder Anselmo's nose, "either you do what I say or else these lineswhich I have just written will be sent to the papers to-morrow."

  Anselmo read, and the blood rushed to his head. He felt his brainwhirl, and, beating his face with his hands, he groaned aloud. What hadBenedetto written? Only a few words: "The lady who is known as Jane Zildis--"

  "You will not send these lines off," cried Anselmo, springing upsuddenly and clutching Benedetto by the throat. The latter, however, wastoo strong for him; in a minute he had thrown the ex-priest upon thebed.

  "No nonsense," he sternly said, "either you write or I will send thenotice to the papers to-morrow."

  The ex-priest took the pen and with a trembling hand wrote whatBenedetto had asked of him.

  "Here," he said, in a choking voice, "swear to me--but no--you do notbelieve in anything--I--"

  "My dear friend," interrupted Benedetto, "do not take the thing soseriously. I have no intention of disturbing your peace."

  Anselmo sank upon a chair, and his eyes filled with hot tears.

  Benedetto hastily ran over the paper and his lips curled contemptuouslywhen he saw the signature.

  "The fool wrote his own name," he murmured as he rubbed his hands, "mayit do him good."

  The next minute the secretary of Count Vellini disappeared, and Anselmobreathed more freely.

  Suddenly an idea flew through his brain as his gaze fell upon thebank-notes.

  "We will fly," he muttered to himself, "now, this very hour! This demonknows everything; we are not safe from him, and if an accident happensto Jane--"

  In desperation he walked up and down the room and disconnected wordscame from his lips.

  "Who will guarantee me that he will keep silent? Oh, he was always awretch--to-morrow at four o'clock we can take the train--we will go toEngland and from there to America."

  He paused, and, going to the window, listened. Everything was quiet andAnselmo noticed that a rain shed connected the count's house with thatof Madame Vollard. Benedetto's visit was probably undiscovered, and agreat deal depended on that.

  "I will wake Jane," said Anselmo after a short pause, "I will tell heran excuse, and since she believes in me, she will be ready at once tofollow me! I will tell her I am in danger and must leave France."

  Anselmo carefully opened the door and listened. All was still in thehouse, and, going on tiptoe, he glided up to the next story and intoJane's room. Merciful God, it was empty!

  Uttering a cry he rushed out of the room and down the stairs, and, aprey to despair, hurried out into the dark night.