Chapter 49. Haydée
It will be recollected that the new, or rather old, acquaintances of theCount of Monte Cristo, residing in the Rue Meslay, were no other thanMaximilian, Julie, and Emmanuel.
The very anticipations of delight to be enjoyed in his forthcomingvisits—the bright, pure gleam of heavenly happiness it diffused over thealmost deadly warfare in which he had voluntarily engaged, illumined hiswhole countenance with a look of ineffable joy and calmness, as,immediately after Villefort’s departure, his thoughts flew back to thecheering prospect before him, of tasting, at least, a brief respite fromthe fierce and stormy passions of his mind. Even Ali, who had hastenedto obey the Count’s summons, went forth from his master’s presence incharmed amazement at the unusual animation and pleasure depicted onfeatures ordinarily so stern and cold; while, as though dreading to putto flight the agreeable ideas hovering over his patron’s meditations,whatever they were, the faithful Nubian walked on tiptoe towards thedoor, holding his breath, lest its faintest sound should dissipate hismaster’s happy reverie.
It was noon, and Monte Cristo had set apart one hour to be passed in theapartments of Haydée, as though his oppressed spirit could not all atonce admit the feeling of pure and unmixed joy, but required a gradualsuccession of calm and gentle emotions to prepare his mind to receivefull and perfect happiness, in the same manner as ordinary naturesdemand to be inured by degrees to the reception of strong or violentsensations.
The young Greek, as we have already said, occupied apartments whollyunconnected with those of the count. The rooms had been fitted up instrict accordance with Oriental ideas; the floors were covered with therichest carpets Turkey could produce; the walls hung with brocaded silkof the most magnificent designs and texture; while around each chamberluxurious divans were placed, with piles of soft and yielding cushions,that needed only to be arranged at the pleasure or convenience of suchas sought repose.
Haydée had three French maids, and one who was a Greek. The first threeremained constantly in a small waiting-room, ready to obey the summonsof a small golden bell, or to receive the orders of the Romaic slave,who knew just enough French to be able to transmit her mistress’s wishesto the three other waiting-women; the latter had received mostperemptory instructions from Monte Cristo to treat Haydée with all thedeference they would observe to a queen.
The young girl herself generally passed her time in the chamber at thefarther end of her apartments. This was a sort of boudoir, circular, andlighted only from the roof, which consisted of rose-colored glass.Haydée was reclining upon soft downy cushions, covered with blue satinspotted with silver; her head, supported by one of her exquisitelymoulded arms, rested on the divan immediately behind her, while theother was employed in adjusting to her lips the coral tube of a richnarghile, through whose flexible pipe she drew the smoke fragrant by itspassage through perfumed water. Her attitude, though perfectly naturalfor an Eastern woman would, in a European, have been deemed too full ofcoquettish straining after effect.
Her dress, which was that of the women of Epirus, consisted of a pair ofwhite satin trousers, embroidered with pink roses, displaying feet soexquisitely formed and so delicately fair, that they might well havebeen taken for Parian marble, had not the eye been undeceived by theirmovements as they constantly shifted in and out of a pair of littleslippers with upturned toes, beautifully ornamented with gold andpearls. She wore a blue and white-striped vest, with long open sleeves,trimmed with silver loops and buttons of pearls, and a sort of bodice,which, closing only from the centre to the waist, exhibited the whole ofthe ivory throat and upper part of the bosom; it was fastened with threemagnificent diamond clasps. The junction of the bodice and drawers wasentirely concealed by one of the many-colored scarves, whose brillianthues and rich silken fringe have rendered them so precious in the eyesof Parisian belles.
Tilted on one side of her head she had a small cap of gold-colored silk,embroidered with pearls; while on the other a purple rose mingled itsglowing colors with the luxuriant masses of her hair, of which theblackness was so intense that it was tinged with blue.
The extreme beauty of the countenance, that shone forth in lovelinessthat mocked the vain attempts of dress to augment it, was peculiarly andpurely Grecian; there were the large, dark, melting eyes, the finelyformed nose, the coral lips, and pearly teeth, that belonged to her raceand country.
And, to complete the whole, Haydée was in the very springtide andfulness of youthful charms—she had not yet numbered more than nineteenor twenty summers.
Monte Cristo summoned the Greek attendant, and bade her inquire whetherit would be agreeable to her mistress to receive his visit. Haydée’sonly reply was to direct her servant by a sign to withdraw thetapestried curtain that hung before the door of her boudoir, theframework of the opening thus made serving as a sort of border to thegraceful tableau presented by the young girl’s picturesque attitude andappearance.
As Monte Cristo approached, she leaned upon the elbow of the arm thatheld the narghile, and extending to him her other hand, said, with asmile of captivating sweetness, in the sonorous language spoken by thewomen of Athens and Sparta:
“Why demand permission ere you enter? Are you no longer my master, orhave I ceased to be your slave?”
Monte Cristo returned her smile.
“Haydée,” said he, “you well know.”
“Why do you address me so coldly—so distantly?” asked the young Greek.“Have I by any means displeased you? Oh, if so, punish me as you will;but do not—do not speak to me in tones and manner so formal andconstrained.”
“Haydée,” replied the count, “you know that you are now in France, andare free.”
“Free to do what?” asked the young girl.
“Free to leave me.”
“Leave you? Why should I leave you?”
“That is not for me to say; but we are now about to mix in society—tovisit and be visited.”
“I don’t wish to see anybody but you.”
“And should you see one whom you could prefer, I would not be sounjust——”
“I have never seen anyone I preferred to you, and I have never lovedanyone but you and my father.”
“My poor child,” replied Monte Cristo, “that is merely because yourfather and myself are the only men who have ever talked to you.”
“I don’t want anybody else to talk to me. My father said I was his‘joy’—you style me your ‘love,’—and both of you have called me ‘mychild.’”
“Do you remember your father, Haydée?”
The young Greek smiled.
“He is here, and here,” said she, touching her eyes and her heart.
“And where am I?” inquired Monte Cristo laughingly.
“You?” cried she, with tones of thrilling tenderness, “you areeverywhere!” Monte Cristo took the delicate hand of the young girl inhis, and was about to raise it to his lips, when the simple child ofnature hastily withdrew it, and presented her cheek.
“You now understand, Haydée,” said the count, “that from this moment youare absolutely free; that here you exercise unlimited sway, and are atliberty to lay aside or continue the costume of your country, as it maysuit your inclination. Within this mansion you are absolute mistress ofyour actions, and may go abroad or remain in your apartments as may seemmost agreeable to you. A carriage waits your orders, and Ali and Myrthowill accompany you whithersoever you desire to go. There is but onefavor I would entreat of you.”
“Speak.”
“Guard carefully the secret of your birth. Make no allusion to the past;nor upon any occasion be induced to pronounce the names of yourillustrious father or ill-fated mother.”
“I have already told you, my lord, that I shall see no one.”
“It is possible, Haydée, that so perfect a seclusion, though conformablewith the habits and customs of the East, may not be practicable inParis. Endeavor, then, to accustom yourself to our manner of living inthese northern climes as you did to those of Ro
me, Florence, Milan, andMadrid; it may be useful to you one of these days, whether you remainhere or return to the East.”
The young girl raised her tearful eyes towards Monte Cristo as she saidwith touching earnestness, “Whether we return to the East, you mean tosay, my lord, do you not?”
“My child,” returned Monte Cristo “you know full well that whenever wepart, it will be no fault or wish of mine; the tree forsakes not theflower—the flower falls from the tree.”
“My lord,” replied Haydée, “I never will leave you, for I am sure Icould not exist without you.”
“My poor girl, in ten years I shall be old, and you will be stillyoung.”
“My father had a long white beard, but I loved him; he was sixty yearsold, but to me he was handsomer than all the fine youths I saw.”
“Then tell me, Haydée, do you believe you shall be able to accustomyourself to our present mode of life?”
“Shall I see you?”
“Every day.”
“Then what do you fear, my lord?”
“You might find it dull.”
“No, my lord. In the morning, I shall rejoice in the prospect of yourcoming, and in the evening dwell with delight on the happiness I haveenjoyed in your presence; then too, when alone, I can call forth mightypictures of the past, see vast horizons bounded only by the toweringmountains of Pindus and Olympus. Oh, believe me, that when three greatpassions, such as sorrow, love, and gratitude fill the heart, ennui canfind no place.”
“You are a worthy daughter of Epirus, Haydée, and your charming andpoetical ideas prove well your descent from that race of goddesses whoclaim your country as their birthplace. Depend on my care to see thatyour youth is not blighted, or suffered to pass away in ungenialsolitude; and of this be well assured, that if you love me as a father,I love you as a child.”
“You are wrong, my lord. The love I have for you is very different fromthe love I had for my father. My father died, but I did not die. If youwere to die, I should die too.”
The count, with a smile of profound tenderness, extended his hand, andshe carried it to her lips.
Monte Cristo, thus attuned to the interview he proposed to hold withMorrel and his family, departed, murmuring as he went these lines ofPindar, “Youth is a flower of which love is the fruit; happy is he who,after having watched its silent growth, is permitted to gather and callit his own.” The carriage was prepared according to orders, and steppinglightly into it, the count drove off at his usual rapid pace.
The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 50