CHAPTER LVI.
ESPERANCE, MONTE-CRISTO'S SON.
Now let us go back to Esperance. Three days have elapsed since Jane wasborne into the hotel on the Champs-Elysees.
We find Madame Caraman deep in a conference with the person on whom shehas more reliance than on any one else in the world, none other thanherself! The good woman was lying on a sofa, listening to every soundwhich came from the room where Jane lay utterly prostrated.
"I don't know," said the old lady half aloud, "whether I am doing rightor not. The Count begged me to look out for his son, and I have tried todo this. I have now accepted a new duty from the Vicomte, and for threedays and nights I have been watching over this poor young girl. This isall very well. The Vicomte has requested me to keep the affair secret,even from his father, and I have consented. Here I am not sure that Ihave done wisely. The Count said: 'If you have any especialcommunication to make to me, you may go to Monsieur Fanfar.' That isclear enough. But if I obey the father I disobey the son!"
All these arguments failed to satisfy the good woman of the excellenceof her cause, for she shook her head several times. She heard a longsigh, and ran to Jane's bed. The girl's face looked like wax, hereyelids had a brownish tinge. Her lips were parted with the sigh thather nurse had heard.
Poor Jane! Was she on the road to recovery? Alas! the physicians did notyet answer for her life. Goutran had, at the request of Esperance,brought two men of great science, but they agreed that the girl was ingreat danger.
When Madame leaned over her to give her the medicine, Jane seemed to beterribly frightened. The color rushed to her cheeks, and she panted forbreath.
Suddenly her eyes opened wide, and she cried aloud:
"Ah! let me die--let me die!"
"My poor, dear child!" said Madame Caraman, kissing her tenderly on herbrow, "you must not say that! Try to be calm and good."
But Jane did not listen to her. She seemed to be haunted by someterrible spectre. Delirium has some astonishing resurrections. Shestruggled so fiercely in the arms of her nurse that Madame, who had beentold to summon Esperance at any moment, leaned forward and touched abell.
In a moment the Vicomte appeared. Oh! how pale and hollow-eyed he was!As he entered, Jane fell back among her pillows, covering her face withher hands.
"What is it?" asked Esperance.
"Only a little more fever, sir, but I feared an accident, and calledyou."
"You did right, and I thank you."
He took the girl's hands gently in his. At his touch tears sprang toJane's closed eyes, and a little shiver passed over her whole body.
"She is calmer now," said Madame, "and I am almost sorry that I havedisturbed you."
"No--I am very glad you did. You must be very weary. Lie down, and Iwill stay here until dawn."
"No--I am old, I do not require much sleep, while you----"
Esperance sat on the foot of the bed, holding Jane's slender hands.
"Do you think," he said gently, "that I can sleep while she issuffering? Go, I beg of you--I will call you soon."
Madame still resisted a little, perhaps for form's sake, but finallyobeyed his wishes. The young man then sank on his knees, still holdingJane's hands.
They remained thus, silent and motionless. From the touch of theVicomte's hand Jane seemed to experience profound relief. Is it notcertain that between two persons a certain magnetic communication maytake place--an electric fluid may pass from one to the other, making thetwo momentarily one?
Esperance bowed his head and pressed his lips on Jane's hand. Then theyoung girl opened her eyes. The fever was gone. Her glorious eyes hadregained all their softness, and her pulse beat more regularly.
"Jane! Jane!" whispered the young man. It seemed to him that he felt agentle pressure of her fingers. "You hear me?" he said. "Will you allowme to remain near you? If you only knew how much I suffer in seeingyour sufferings, and how gladly I would spare you a pang!" Again thelittle quivering pressure.
"When I saw you the other night it did not seem to me that it was thefirst time. I felt as if I had seen you in my dreams. Jane, why did youwish to die?"
Was she listening? Did she hear him? A delicious torpor had takenpossession of the girl. She thought she was dreaming, and was afraid tomove lest she should awaken. The past seemed far away.
He continued:
"Jane, before I saw you I did not live. I was always sad. What did itmatter to me the luxury with which I was surrounded? I have always feltsingularly alone, my life was incomplete. But now I feel as if it werewell rounded. You have suffered, but now all that is over. You will tellme all, because we are to have no secrets from each other. We will leaveParis, and find some quiet retreat together."
She did not speak, but from under her half-closed eyes a tear stole downher cheek. Esperance kissed the tear away. She smiled faintly, and thenfell into a sweet sleep. Seeing this, Esperance rose and softly left theroom.
In the ante-room Madame Caraman lay asleep on the sofa. Esperancesmiled, but as he knew that Jane was safe, he did not arouse her nurse.
He went to his room. Hardly had the sound of his footsteps died awaythan the portiere is lifted in yonder corner, and a dark form appears.It was a man. His face was hidden by a black vail. In his hand was awhite handkerchief and a glass bottle. He stole to the bed so softlythat not a sound was heard.
Who is this man? It was thus that Monte-Cristo once entered the room ofValentine de Villefort. But this was not Monte-Cristo. As he reached thebed he extended his arm and held to the girl's face the handkerchief,from which exhaled a blue vapor.
Jane was breathing naturally. Suddenly her whole form quivered, thencame immobility. Her limbs straighten, the rose fades from her cheek,her brow becomes like marble. The man lifted the inert form in his arms,and slowly, with infinite precautions, he moved toward the portiere,which he pushes aside and disappears.
Ah! Madame Caraman, ah! Esperance, you little know what is going on!
This man is Benedetto. His revenge has begun!
And in that empty room there is now no other sound than the ticking ofthe clock.
The Son of Monte-Cristo Page 58