The Son of Monte-Cristo
Page 3
CHAPTER I.
ESPERANCE, THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO.
Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo, lay sleeping in the comfortable bedprovided for him in the house of Fanfar, the French colonist, as relatedat the close of the preceding volume, "The Wife of Monte-Cristo." Theprostration and exhaustion brought on by the excitement and fatigue ofhis terrible adventure with the remorseless Khouans rendered his sleepas leaden as the sleep of death; indeed, had it not been for his heavyrespiration, he might have been mistaken for a corpse. But ordinarydifficulties were not to conquer the heroic son of Monte-Cristo, whoseemed to have inherited all the marvelous power and energy of his noblefather, and as he lay there in the hot Algerian night, amid the balmyperfume of the luxuriant tropical flowers, a mysterious smile hoveredabout the corners of his sharply cut lips that told unmistakably of afearless nature and a firm desire to promote the success of the good andthe true. Esperance slept, and the lion in him was dormant; it was,however, destined soon to be aroused.
In another room, around the family table, Fanfar and his guests wereseated, the Count of Monte-Cristo occupying the place of honor. Thecolonist, at the urgent solicitation of those with whom he had sostrangely been brought in contact, was about to relate the story of hislife, when suddenly Monte-Cristo's quick ear caught a sound.
"What was that?" he said in a startled whisper, instantly springing tohis feet.
"I heard nothing," said Fanfar.
"It was, perhaps, the cry of some wild beast," suggested CaptainJoliette.
Monte-Cristo hastened to his son's apartment, followed by Fanfar,Captain Joliette and Coucon, the Zouave.
The boy was still sleeping soundly, and the apartment was altogetherundisturbed.
Monte-Cristo uttered a sigh of relief; he bent over the beautiful childand gently kissed him on the forehead.
The party returned to the adjoining room and resumed their seats.Scarcely had they done so when a dark form, shrouded in a greenbournous, appeared stealthily at the open window of Esperance'schamber, and, gazing furtively around, lightly sprang into the room.
"Dog of a Frenchman!" hissed the intruder in a low tone between histeeth. "When you flung me over the battlements of Ouargla, you fanciedyou had killed me; but Maldar bears a charmed life and will have abitter revenge!"
The intruder was indeed Maldar, the Sultan, who by some miracle hadescaped Monte-Cristo's vengeance.
As he spoke he shook his fist in the direction of the Count, who wassitting at the table with the rest of Fanfar's guests, though his sombreair and clouded brow told that, while preserving his outward calmness,he yet suspected the presence of a deadly foe.
Maldar had removed his sandals, and his footsteps were noiseless. Hewent to the bed and stood for an instant gloating over the slumberingboy.
"I failed before, but I shall not fail again. Allah is great! I willstrike this giaour of a Frenchman in his tenderest spot--his heart! Theson shall pay the father's debt!"
Half-crouching and gathering his green bournous closely about him, hecrept cautiously back to the window and made the sign of the crescent inthe air. There was a slight flash, a pale phosphorescent glow, and inthe midst of it the emblem of Islam appeared for an instant like asemi-circle of fire and then vanished.
Immediately a Khouan showed himself at the window; he leaped into theapartment, followed by three others of his fanatical and pitiless tribe.The new-comers instantly knelt at Maldar's feet and kissed the hem ofhis bournous.
"Son of the Prophet," said one of them, "we are here to do yourbidding!"
"Rise," said Maldar, "and seize yonder lad, first gagging him with thissacred scarf made from Mohammed's own sainted vestment. Be quick andbear him to the desert!"
The Khouan who had acted as spokesman took the scarf from Maldar's handand skilfully executed his command. Esperance was in such a deep slumberthat he did not make a movement, even when the Arab lifted him from thebed and held him in his arms.
"Away!" cried Maldar in an undertone, adding, as the Khouan sprang fromthe window and disappeared in the darkness without: "Now, Count ofMonte-Cristo, you are once more at my mercy, and this time you will notescape my vengeance!"
He darted through the window, motioning to the remaining Khouans to dolikewise. In an instant the room was empty; the Arabs had vanished likea vision of the night.
Ten, fifteen minutes passed, and still not a sound to break the torporof the Algerian night, save the hum of conversation around the table ofFanfar, the colonist. Monte-Cristo's sombre air had not passed away. Hewas a prey to a species of uneasiness he had never experienced before.Fanfar, noticing that the Count was disturbed, that some mysteriousinfluence was working upon him, hesitated to commence his narration.Finally he said to him:
"Count, are you anxious concerning your son? If so, you can dismiss youranxiety. The lad is in perfect safety beneath my roof; his slumber willrefresh him, and he will awake entirely restored. As for the Khouans,they never deign to visit my humble habitation, and they will hardlybreak their rule to come here now. Still, to satisfy you and put allyour apprehensions at rest, I will go and take a look at the lad."
He arose and went to Esperance's room. In an instant he returned. Hisface had the pallor of wax.
Monte-Cristo leaped nervously to his feet and stood staring at him, hiscountenance wearing an expression of intense anguish.
"Well?" said he, in an unsteady voice.
Fanfar was breathless with excitement and terror. When he could findwords, he said:
"The lad is gone!"
"My God!" cried Monte-Cristo, putting his hand to his forehead andstaggering beneath the overwhelming blow, "I felt it! I had apremonition of some impending disaster, I knew not what! Oh! Esperance!Esperance!"
He hurried into the adjoining room and stood beside the empty bed. Themoon was now shining in unclouded splendor and the apartment was almostas light as day. The slight covering had been torn from the couch andlay in a heap on the floor. Near it a small object sparkled; theagonized father stooped and picked it up: it was a miniature dagger oforiental workmanship, and upon its jeweled handle was an inscription inthe Arabic tongue. Monte-Cristo took the weapon to the window and thefull light of the silvery moonbeams fell upon it. The inscription wasfrom the Koran, and was a maxim adopted by the Khouan tribe. The Countread it and trembled.
"I recognize this weapon," said he; "it is Maldar's. The Sultan isliving and has been here! It is to him I owe this terriblemisfortune--he has carried away my son!"
Miss Elphys approached the Count and touched his arm.
"We must start in pursuit at once!" said she, with a look of courage anddetermination.
"We?" cried Madame Caraman, aghast. "You, surely, do not mean again toface the dangers of this barbarous country, to go upon another Quixoticexpedition, and drag me with you? Remember you are a woman! Besides,there are plenty of men here for the task!"
Clary glanced at the governess with indignation, but vouchsafed no replyto her selfish speech.
"Mademoiselle," said Captain Joliette, addressing the heroic girl, "yourfeelings do you honor; but I for one cannot consent for you to imperilyour life in a night hunt for the dastardly Khouans, who have certainlymade their way to the desert with the abducted lad. Madame Caraman isright; you must not again face the dangers of this barbarous country.Remain here with Madame Irene and Madame Caraman. I will organize andlead the pursuit."
Monte-Cristo, who, in the face of the new dangers that threatened hisson, had recovered somewhat of his accustomed calmness, came to them andsaid:
"I thank you, Miss Elphys, for your generosity and bravery, but you musttake the Captain's advice. Captain Joliette, I fully appreciate yourmotives in wishing to take command in this pursuit, but, at the sametime, I must claim the precedence. Remember I am a father, and have afather's duty to perform. I will lead the pursuit."
Captain Joliette bowed.
"So be it," said he, "it is your right."
Coucon, Fanfar, Gratillet and I
ron Jaws eagerly offered their services,and even Bobichel forgot his merry pranks and demanded to accompany theexpedition. The Count of Monte-Cristo desired the former clown to remainfor the protection of the ladies, but Miss Elphys protested againstthis.
"Take Bobichel with you," she said. "We can protect ourselves."
Bobichel, overjoyed, ran for the horses, and the little army instantlymounted, riding away toward the desert at the top of their animals'speed, with Monte-Cristo at their head.
Meanwhile Maldar and his Khouan followers were dashing along at a rapidpace on the fleet Arab coursers with which they were provided. One ofthe party bore Esperance before him on his saddle. The boy had not beenaroused from his lethargic sleep by the abduction and subsequent flight.He slept peacefully and profoundly.
The fanatical Arabs maintained unbroken silence, and the sound of theirhorses' hoofs was deadened by the sand.
Maldar rode a trifle in advance. Now that the excitement of theabduction had worn off, he was as stoical as the rest, but occasionally,as he thought of his triumph over Monte-Cristo and the vengeance he wasabout to take upon his hated enemy, for he had decided to put Esperanceto a lingering and terrible death and send the lad's gory head to theagonized father, a grim smile stole over his otherwise impassiblecountenance, and a demoniac gleam shot from his eyes.
But suddenly a faint sound was heard in the far distance. It came fromthe direction of Fanfar's farm. Maldar listened attentively; then hesaid to the Khouans, whose quick ears had also detected the sound:
"Ride like the wind, sons of the Prophet! We are pursued! The Count ofMonte-Cristo and his unbelieving French hounds are on our track! But ifthey would overtake us and recover the boy, they must have the cunningof serpents and horses as fleet as the lightning's flash!"