The Son of Monte-Cristo

by Jules Lermina

  CHAPTER L.

  CATASTROPHES.

  The two men started to their feet, looking at each other as they hadlooked when Fate and their crimes first brought them together. Yes, itwas Sanselme, who had simply changed the letters in his name and becomeMaslenes, who now spoke to his former associate with such contempt.

  And it was Benedetto who sneered and laughed in the face of the man whomat Toulon he had almost hated. They neither of them spoke, but in theirfaces a strange transformation took place. Sanselme, first so bold,almost arrogant, by degrees began to hang his head, while Benedettolooked more and more triumphant.

  "Let us sit down and reason together," he said.

  "And why?" answered Sanselme, drearily. "You and I have nothing incommon."

  "I don't know that!"

  "Listen to me for one moment. Our respective positions must bedistinctly defined. Fate brought us together--Fate separated us. Neitheryou nor I desire to awaken all these terrible memories. I now bid youforget my very existence--"

  He stopped short. Benedetto had laid his hand on his shoulder.

  "And suppose I do not wish to be forgotten by you?" he said, slowly.

  Sanselme started and looked at him with a terrified expression.

  "I desire quite the contrary, in fact. I wish you to recall everycircumstance of our former acquaintance, up to that night at Beausset--"

  "For Heaven's sake, say no more!"

  "I must, for I need a witness to authenticate certain facts. And thatwitness must be yourself."

  "You forget, I fancy, that were I to reveal the truth the scaffold wouldbe your end!"

  "Ah! that is my affair, Sanselme. You have but to answer my questionstruly. I rely on you, for really," sneered Benedetto, "you have quitethe air of an honest man. You remember. Do you remember the night of the24th of February, 1839?"

  "Am I dreaming?" murmured Sanselme, hiding his face. "Can he really asksuch a question?"

  "Do you remember the little house behind the church?"

  "Yes, yes, I remember."

  "A certain person of my acquaintance had a little business to attend toin that house. He was successful, and he carried off a million."

  "I know nothing about that!" cried Sanselme, eagerly. And then with agesture of loathing, he added, "I never saw any of the money."

  "I dare say. You were extremely disinterested! I took the money andmeant to get away with it quietly, but accident defeated this plan."

  "For God's sake, say no more! Have you a heart?"

  Benedetto shrugged his shoulders, and continued:

  "You know I heard two persons come up the stairs. I hid behind the doorwith my knife, and when the door opened, I struck at the first person Isaw--"

  "And it was your mother!"

  "Ah! I see your memory is returning. Yes, it was my mother; but how didyou know it?"

  "I had seen her in the gorge, and she had told me her story and imploredme to save her son."

  "And did she tell you her name?" asked Benedetto, with some uneasiness.

  "She told me all, but I swore never to reveal it to any one."

  "And she believed in the oath of a convict?"

  "I have kept it, at all events."

  "You are a hero! But you can, at least, tell me the name."

  "No," answered Sanselme, with energy. "You are planning some newvillainy. I shall not tell you!"

  Benedetto laughed.

  "You must think me very simple. I merely wished to test your memory. Thename of this woman was Danglars."

  Sanselme uttered an exclamation. He had hoped that his refusal wouldfrustrate some nefarious design.

  "Now go," he said, sadly. "You can have nothing more to say to me."

  "You are mistaken! One would think that you did not care to see me."

  "The truth is, Benedetto, that anything connected with the past ishideously painful to me. I wish to forget."

  "You wish to forget, too, that you once tried to kill me."

  "Let us say no more about that. Tell me frankly what you want me to do,and if possible I will do it."

  "You are becoming more reasonable, Sanselme. But what is that new lifeof which you speak so glibly and with a certain tenderness in yourvoice? Perhaps I can guess. She is pretty, that is a fact!"

  Sanselme started and took hold of Benedetto's arm.

  "Not another word like that, Benedetto! Not if you wish to live!"

  "Indeed! What would you do?"

  "My fate is in your hands," answered Sanselme. "You can at any momentdenounce me as an escaped convict. Do what you please, but you shall notsay one word of her who is in this house."

  "Upon my word, Sanselme, it seems to me that you carry matters withrather a high hand. Suppose I do not obey you?"

  "Then I will denounce you, with the certainty that my arrest will followyours. You may laugh when I say that in spite of my shameful past I amto-day an honest man, devoting my whole life to a creature who has noone but myself in the world. If she knew who I was she would despiseme."

  Benedetto listened with his maddening smile. Suddenly he said:

  "Have you pen, ink and paper?"

  "Yes, I have them. Why?"

  "Produce them. I will give my reasons later."

  Sanselme produced what was required.

  "Very good," said Benedetto. "And now take this pen and oblige me bywriting a few lines."

  "What shall I write?"

  "I will dictate to you, that will be easier.

  "On the 24th of February, 1839, Benedetto, an escaped convict fromToulon, assassinated Madame Danglars, his mother."

  "But this is horrible! No, I will not write that!"

  "You had better do it without further objections. You can sign any nameyou please."

  Sanselme still hesitated.

  "No," he said, finally, "I refuse. I of course do not know what use youintend to make of this paper, but I know you. Some infamous machinationis on foot which I will not aid."

  Benedetto smiled.

  "You are far from rich," he said, "for I was at the window some littletime before I knocked. I must tell you that Comte Velleni's hotel isnext this, and I had not the smallest difficulty in coming here."

  Sanselme glanced at the trunk that contained his scanty means.

  "Precisely," said Benedetto, "a few louis and two or three bits ofpaper."

  "I ask nothing from you."

  "But I offer these." And Benedetto took from an elegant portfolio tenbank notes of one thousand francs each, and spread them out on the bed."Write what I bid you and this money is yours."

  Sanselme turned very pale. It seemed as if Benedetto was his evilgenius--his tempter. He instantly realized what this sum would do forher whose welfare was his perpetual anxiety.

  "Will you write?"

  Sanselme dipped his pen into the ink and began. Some instinct warned himthat he was doing wrong. He acted without volition of his own, andsimply in obedience to another, it is true, and it seemed to him that hehimself risked nothing, for he simply told the truth, and yet he wastroubled. Had Sanselme been alone in the world with no one but himselfto care for he might not have been so strict, for he had run many risksin his life. But he felt that this was something wrong, and that evilconsequences would alight on not only himself, but her. The moneyfascinated him, however. He wrote a few words, and then, dashing downthe pen, started up.

  "No, I will not write. Take away your money, Benedetto, it will bring memisfortune."

  Benedetto uttered a furious oath. Then seizing a pen he himself wrote acouple of lines. Laying the paper before Sanselme, he said, "You willwrite just what I say, or I will send this!"

  The two lines commenced thus: "She who bears the name of Jane Zeld,is--"

  Sanselme read no more. With a cry of rage he sprang at Benedetto, whothrust him back fiercely.

  "No more of this nonsense!" he said. "Either you write, or I do, and mywords shall appear in three of the most prominent Parisian journals."

  Sanselme,
with haggard eyes, did not seem to hear. Then suddenly heseized the pen and wrote what Benedetto required.

  "If I give you this paper," he said, hoarsely, "will you swear by--goodheavens! He believes in nothing! What will he swear by?"

  "My dear fellow, I have not the smallest interest in troubling yourrepose. This is better than any oath," said Benedetto.

  Sanselme made no further resistance.

  Benedetto looked at the paper. "The fool has signed his own name!" hesaid to himself. "But it may be better, after all!" And in anothermoment Benedetto vanished through the window.

  Sanselme sat motionless for some time, then his wandering eyes fell onthe bank-notes. He snatched them up.

  "We must fly!" he said aloud. "He knows all, and there is not a momentto lose. Jane--my Jane! Yes, she will consent, I am sure. We will takethe seven o'clock train to Havre, and then will go to America. There shewill lead a new life!" He looked around the room.

  "My baggage," he said to himself, "will not be much of a hindrance; butJane must be aroused at once. What shall I say to her? What reason shallI give? Pshaw! she will require none. Besides, there is nothing to keepus in Paris."

  With infinite caution he opened the door and stole down the stairs,feeling his way along the corridor in the darkness, until he reachedJane's door, which he found open.

  Sanselme was aghast. The chamber was empty.

  Sanselme, with a frightful imprecation, rushed down stairs; the streetdoor was open. Half mad, Sanselme went out into the street.