Chapter 53. Robert le Diable
The pretext of an opera engagement was so much the more feasible, asthere chanced to be on that very night a more than ordinary attractionat the Académie Royale. Levasseur, who had been suffering under severeillness, made his reappearance in the character of Bertram, and, asusual, the announcement of the most admired production of the favoritecomposer of the day had attracted a brilliant and fashionable audience.Morcerf, like most other young men of rank and fortune, had hisorchestra stall, with the certainty of always finding a seat in at leasta dozen of the principal boxes occupied by persons of his acquaintance;he had, moreover, his right of entry into the omnibus box. Château-Renaud rented a stall beside his own, while Beauchamp, as a journalist,had unlimited range all over the theatre. It happened that on thisparticular night the minister’s box was placed at the disposal of LucienDebray, who offered it to the Comte de Morcerf, who again, upon hisrejection of it by Mercédès, sent it to Danglars, with an intimationthat he should probably do himself the honor of joining the baroness andher daughter during the evening, in the event of their accepting the boxin question. The ladies received the offer with too much pleasure todream of a refusal. To no class of persons is the presentation of agratuitous opera-box more acceptable than to the wealthy millionaire,who still hugs economy while boasting of carrying a king’s ransom in hiswaistcoat pocket.
Danglars had, however, protested against showing himself in aministerial box, declaring that his political principles, and hisparliamentary position as member of the opposition party would notpermit him so to commit himself; the baroness had, therefore, despatcheda note to Lucien Debray, bidding him call for them, it being whollyimpossible for her to go alone with Eugénie to the opera.
There is no gainsaying the fact that a very unfavorable constructionwould have been put upon the circumstance if the two women had gonewithout escort, while the addition of a third, in the person of hermother’s admitted lover, enabled Mademoiselle Danglars to defy maliceand ill-nature. One must take the world as one finds it.
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The curtain rose, as usual, to an almost empty house, it being one ofthe absurdities of Parisian fashion never to appear at the opera untilafter the beginning of the performance, so that the first act isgenerally played without the slightest attention being paid to it, thatpart of the audience already assembled being too much occupied inobserving the fresh arrivals, while nothing is heard but the noise ofopening and shutting doors, and the buzz of conversation.
“Surely,” said Albert, as the door of a box on the first circle opened,“that must be the Countess G——.”
“And who is the Countess G——?” inquired Château-Renaud.
“What a question! Now, do you know, baron, I have a great mind to pick aquarrel with you for asking it; as if all the world did not know who theCountess G—— was.”
“Ah, to be sure,” replied Château-Renaud; “the lovely Venetian, is itnot?”
“Herself.” At this moment the countess perceived Albert, and returnedhis salutation with a smile.
“You know her, it seems?” said Château-Renaud.
“Franz introduced me to her at Rome,” replied Albert.
“Well, then, will you do as much for me in Paris as Franz did for you inRome?”
“With pleasure.”
There was a cry of “Shut up!” from the audience. This manifestation onthe part of the spectators of their wish to be allowed to hear themusic, produced not the slightest effect on the two young men, whocontinued their conversation.
“The countess was present at the races in the Champ-de-Mars,” saidChâteau-Renaud.
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Bless me, I quite forgot the races. Did you bet?”
“Oh, merely a paltry fifty louis.”
“And who was the winner?”
“Nautilus. I staked on him.”
“But there were three races, were there not?”
“Yes; there was the prize given by the Jockey Club—a gold cup, youknow—and a very singular circumstance occurred about that race.”
“What was it?”
“Oh, shut up!” again interposed some of the audience.
“Why, it was won by a horse and rider utterly unknown on the course.”
“Is that possible?”
“True as day. The fact was, nobody had observed a horse entered by thename of Vampa, or that of a jockey styled Job, when, at the last moment,a splendid roan, mounted by a jockey about as big as your fist,presented themselves at the starting-post. They were obliged to stuff atleast twenty pounds weight of shot in the small rider’s pockets, to makehim weight; but with all that he outstripped Ariel and Barbare, againstwhom he ran, by at least three whole lengths.”
“And was it not found out at last to whom the horse and jockeybelonged?”
“No.”
“You say that the horse was entered under the name of Vampa?”
“Exactly; that was the title.”
“Then,” answered Albert, “I am better informed than you are, and knowwho the owner of that horse was.”
“Shut up, there!” cried the pit in chorus. And this time the tone andmanner in which the command was given, betokened such growing hostilitythat the two young men perceived, for the first time, that the mandatewas addressed to them. Leisurely turning round, they calmly scrutinizedthe various countenances around them, as though demanding some oneperson who would take upon himself the responsibility of what theydeemed excessive impertinence; but as no one responded to the challenge,the friends turned again to the front of the theatre, and affected tobusy themselves with the stage. At this moment the door of theminister’s box opened, and Madame Danglars, accompanied by her daughter,entered, escorted by Lucien Debray, who assiduously conducted them totheir seats.
“Ha, ha,” said Château-Renaud, “here come some friends of yours,viscount! What are you looking at there? don’t you see they are tryingto catch your eye?”
Albert turned round, just in time to receive a gracious wave of the fanfrom the baroness; as for Mademoiselle Eugénie, she scarcely vouchsafedto waste the glances of her large black eyes even upon the business ofthe stage.
“I tell you what, my dear fellow,” said Château-Renaud, “I cannotimagine what objection you can possibly have to MademoiselleDanglars—that is, setting aside her want of ancestry and somewhatinferior rank, which by the way I don’t think you care very much about.Now, barring all that, I mean to say she is a deuced fine girl!”
“Handsome, certainly,” replied Albert, “but not to my taste, which Iconfess, inclines to something softer, gentler, and more feminine.”
“Ah, well,” exclaimed Château-Renaud, who because he had seen histhirtieth summer fancied himself duly warranted in assuming a sort ofpaternal air with his more youthful friend, “you young people are neversatisfied; why, what would you have more? your parents have chosen you abride built on the model of Diana, the huntress, and yet you are notcontent.”
“No, for that very resemblance affrights me; I should have likedsomething more in the manner of the Venus of Milo or Capua; but thischase-loving Diana, continually surrounded by her nymphs, gives me asort of alarm lest she should some day bring on me the fate of Actæon.”
And, indeed, it required but one glance at Mademoiselle Danglars tocomprehend the justness of Morcerf’s remark. She was beautiful, but herbeauty was of too marked and decided a character to please a fastidioustaste; her hair was raven black, but its natural waves seemed somewhatrebellious; her eyes, of the same color as her hair, were surmounted bywell-arched brows, whose great defect, however, consisted in an almosthabitual frown, while her whole physiognomy wore that expression offirmness and decision so little in accordance with the gentlerattributes of her sex—her nose was precisely what a sculptor would havechosen for a chiselled Juno. Her mouth, which might have been foundfault with as too large, displayed teeth of pearly whiteness, renderedstill more conspicuous by the brilliant
carmine of her lips, contrastingvividly with her naturally pale complexion. But that which completed thealmost masculine look Morcerf found so little to his taste, was a darkmole, of much larger dimensions than these freaks of nature generallyare, placed just at the corner of her mouth; and the effect tended toincrease the expression of self-dependence that characterized hercountenance.
The rest of Mademoiselle Eugénie’s person was in perfect keeping withthe head just described; she, indeed, reminded one of Diana, as Château-Renaud observed, but her bearing was more haughty and resolute.
As regarded her attainments, the only fault to be found with them wasthe same that a fastidious connoisseur might have found with her beauty,that they were somewhat too erudite and masculine for so young a person.She was a perfect linguist, a first-rate artist, wrote poetry, andcomposed music; to the study of the latter she professed to be entirelydevoted, following it with an indefatigable perseverance, assisted by aschoolfellow,—a young woman without fortune whose talent promised todevelop into remarkable powers as a singer. It was rumored that she wasan object of almost paternal interest to one of the principal composersof the day, who excited her to spare no pains in the cultivation of hervoice, which might hereafter prove a source of wealth and independence.But this counsel effectually decided Mademoiselle Danglars never tocommit herself by being seen in public with one destined for atheatrical life; and acting upon this principle, the banker’s daughter,though perfectly willing to allow Mademoiselle Louise d’Armilly (thatwas the name of the young virtuosa) to practice with her through theday, took especial care not to be seen in her company. Still, though notactually received at the Hôtel Danglars in the light of an acknowledgedfriend, Louise was treated with far more kindness and consideration thanis usually bestowed on a governess.
The curtain fell almost immediately after the entrance of MadameDanglars into her box, the band quitted the orchestra for the accustomedhalf-hour’s interval allowed between the acts, and the audience wereleft at liberty to promenade the salon or lobbies, or to pay and receivevisits in their respective boxes.
Morcerf and Château-Renaud were amongst the first to avail themselves ofthis permission. For an instant the idea struck Madame Danglars thatthis eagerness on the part of the young viscount arose from hisimpatience to join her party, and she whispered her expectations to herdaughter, that Albert was hurrying to pay his respects to them.Mademoiselle Eugénie, however, merely returned a dissenting movement ofthe head, while, with a cold smile, she directed the attention of hermother to an opposite box on the first circle, in which sat the CountessG——, and where Morcerf had just made his appearance.
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“So we meet again, my travelling friend, do we?” cried the countess,extending her hand to him with all the warmth and cordiality of an oldacquaintance; “it was really very good of you to recognize me soquickly, and still more so to bestow your first visit on me.”
“Be assured,” replied Albert, “that if I had been aware of your arrivalin Paris, and had known your address, I should have paid my respects toyou before this. Allow me to introduce my friend, Baron de Château-Renaud, one of the few true gentlemen now to be found in France, andfrom whom I have just learned that you were a spectator of the races inthe Champ-de-Mars, yesterday.”
Château-Renaud bowed to the countess.
“So you were at the races, baron?” inquired the countess eagerly.
“Yes, madame.”
“Well, then,” pursued Madame G—— with considerable animation, “you canprobably tell me who won the Jockey Club stakes?”
“I am sorry to say I cannot,” replied the baron; “and I was just askingthe same question of Albert.”
“Are you very anxious to know, countess?” asked Albert.
“To know what?”
“The name of the owner of the winning horse?”
“Excessively; only imagine—but do tell me, viscount, whether you reallyare acquainted with it or no?”
“I beg your pardon, madame, but you were about to relate some story,were you not? You said, ‘only imagine,’—and then paused. Pray continue.”
“Well, then, listen. You must know I felt so interested in the splendidroan horse, with his elegant little rider, so tastefully dressed in apink satin jacket and cap, that I could not help praying for theirsuccess with as much earnestness as though the half of my fortune wereat stake; and when I saw them outstrip all the others, and come to thewinning-post in such gallant style, I actually clapped my hands withjoy. Imagine my surprise, when, upon returning home, the first object Imet on the staircase was the identical jockey in the pink jacket! Iconcluded that, by some singular chance, the owner of the winning horsemust live in the same hotel as myself; but, as I entered my apartments,I beheld the very gold cup awarded as a prize to the unknown horse andrider. Inside the cup was a small piece of paper, on which were writtenthese words—‘From Lord Ruthven to Countess G——.’”
“Precisely; I was sure of it,” said Morcerf.
“Sure of what?”
“That the owner of the horse was Lord Ruthven himself.”
“What Lord Ruthven do you mean?”
“Why, our Lord Ruthven—the Vampire of the Salle Argentina!”
“Is it possible?” exclaimed the countess; “is he here in Paris?”
“To be sure,—why not?”
“And you visit him?—meet him at your own house and elsewhere?”
“I assure you he is my most intimate friend, and M. de Château-Renaudhas also the honor of his acquaintance.”
“But why are you so sure of his being the winner of the Jockey Clubprize?”
“Was not the winning horse entered by the name of Vampa?”
“What of that?”
“Why, do you not recollect the name of the celebrated bandit by whom Iwas made prisoner?”
“Oh, yes.”
“And from whose hands the count extricated me in so wonderful a manner?”
“To be sure, I remember it all now.”
“He called himself Vampa. You see, it’s evident where the count got thename.”
“But what could have been his motive for sending the cup to me?”
“In the first place, because I had spoken much of you to him, as you maybelieve; and in the second, because he delighted to see a countrywomantake so lively an interest in his success.”
“I trust and hope you never repeated to the count all the foolishremarks we used to make about him?”
“I should not like to affirm upon oath that I have not. Besides, hispresenting you the cup under the name of Lord Ruthven——”
“Oh, but that is dreadful! Why, the man must owe me a fearful grudge.”
“Does his action appear like that of an enemy?”
“No; certainly not.”
“Well, then——”
“And so he is in Paris?”
“Yes.”
“And what effect does he produce?”
“Why,” said Albert, “he was talked about for a week; then the coronationof the queen of England took place, followed by the theft ofMademoiselle Mars’s diamonds; and so people talked of something else.”
“My good fellow,” said Château-Renaud, “the count is your friend and youtreat him accordingly. Do not believe what Albert is telling you,countess; so far from the sensation excited in the Parisian circles bythe appearance of the Count of Monte Cristo having abated, I take uponmyself to declare that it is as strong as ever. His first astounding actupon coming amongst us was to present a pair of horses, worth 32,000francs, to Madame Danglars; his second, the almost miraculouspreservation of Madame de Villefort’s life; now it seems that he hascarried off the prize awarded by the Jockey Club. I therefore maintain,in spite of Morcerf, that not only is the count the object of interestat this present moment, but also that he will continue to be so for amonth longer if he pleases to exhibit an eccentricity of conduct which,after all, may be his ordinary mode of existence.”
“Perhaps you
are right,” said Morcerf; “meanwhile, who is in the Russianambassador’s box?”
“Which box do you mean?” asked the countess.
“The one between the pillars on the first tier—it seems to have beenfitted up entirely afresh.”
“Did you observe anyone during the first act?” asked Château-Renaud.
“Where?”
“In that box.”
“No,” replied the countess, “it was certainly empty during the firstact;” then, resuming the subject of their previous conversation, shesaid, “And so you really believe it was your mysterious Count of MonteCristo that gained the prize?”
“I am sure of it.”
“And who afterwards sent the cup to me?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“But I don’t know him,” said the countess; “I have a great mind toreturn it.”
“Do no such thing, I beg of you; he would only send you another, formedof a magnificent sapphire, or hollowed out of a gigantic ruby. It is hisway, and you must take him as you find him.”
At this moment the bell rang to announce the drawing up of the curtainfor the second act. Albert rose to return to his place.
“Shall I see you again?” asked the countess.
“At the end of the next act, with your permission, I will come andinquire whether there is anything I can do for you in Paris?”
“Pray take notice,” said the countess, “that my present residence is 22Rue de Rivoli, and that I am at home to my friends every Saturdayevening. So now, you are both forewarned.”
The young men bowed, and quitted the box. Upon reaching their stalls,they found the whole of the audience in the parterre standing up anddirecting their gaze towards the box formerly possessed by the Russianambassador. A man of from thirty-five to forty years of age, dressed indeep black, had just entered, accompanied by a young woman dressed afterthe Eastern style. The lady was surpassingly beautiful, while the richmagnificence of her attire drew all eyes upon her.
“Hullo,” said Albert; “it is Monte Cristo and his Greek!”
The strangers were, indeed, no other than the count and Haydée. In a fewmoments the young girl had attracted the attention of the whole house,and even the occupants of the boxes leaned forward to scrutinize hermagnificent diamonds.
The second act passed away during one continued buzz of voices—one deepwhisper—intimating that some great and universally interesting event hadoccurred; all eyes, all thoughts, were occupied with the young andbeautiful woman, whose gorgeous apparel and splendid jewels made a mostextraordinary spectacle.
Upon this occasion an unmistakable sign from Madame Danglars intimatedher desire to see Albert in her box directly the curtain fell on thesecond act, and neither the politeness nor good taste of Morcerf wouldpermit his neglecting an invitation so unequivocally given. At the closeof the act he therefore went to the baroness.
Having bowed to the two ladies, he extended his hand to Debray. By thebaroness he was most graciously welcomed, while Eugénie received himwith her accustomed coldness.
“My dear fellow,” said Debray, “you have come in the nick of time. Thereis madame overwhelming me with questions respecting the count; sheinsists upon it that I can tell her his birth, education, and parentage,where he came from, and whither he is going. Being no disciple ofCagliostro, I was wholly unable to do this; so, by way of getting out ofthe scrape, I said, ‘Ask Morcerf; he has got the whole history of hisbeloved Monte Cristo at his fingers’ ends;’ whereupon the baronesssignified her desire to see you.”
“Is it not almost incredible,” said Madame Danglars, “that a personhaving at least half a million of secret-service money at his command,should possess so little information?”
“Let me assure you, madame,” said Lucien, “that had I really the sum youmention at my disposal, I would employ it more profitably than introubling myself to obtain particulars respecting the Count of MonteCristo, whose only merit in my eyes consists in his being twice as richas a nabob. However, I have turned the business over to Morcerf, so praysettle it with him as may be most agreeable to you; for my own part, Icare nothing about the count or his mysterious doings.”
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“I am very sure no nabob would have sent me a pair of horses worth32,000 francs, wearing on their heads four diamonds valued at 5,000francs each.”
“He seems to have a mania for diamonds,” said Morcerf, smiling, “and Iverily believe that, like Potemkin, he keeps his pockets filled, for thesake of strewing them along the road, as Tom Thumb did his flintstones.”
“Perhaps he has discovered some mine,” said Madame Danglars. “I supposeyou know he has an order for unlimited credit on the baron’s bankingestablishment?”
“I was not aware of it,” replied Albert, “but I can readily believe it.”
“And, further, that he stated to M. Danglars his intention of onlystaying a year in Paris, during which time he proposed to spend sixmillions.
“He must be the Shah of Persia, travelling incog.”
“Have you noticed the remarkable beauty of the young woman, M. Lucien?”inquired Eugénie.
“I really never met with one woman so ready to do justice to the charmsof another as yourself,” responded Lucien, raising his lorgnette to hiseye. “A most lovely creature, upon my soul!” was his verdict.
“Who is this young person, M. de Morcerf?” inquired Eugénie; “doesanybody know?”
“Mademoiselle,” said Albert, replying to this direct appeal, “I can giveyou very exact information on that subject, as well as on most pointsrelative to the mysterious person of whom we are now conversing—theyoung woman is a Greek.”
“So I should suppose by her dress; if you know no more than that,everyone here is as well-informed as yourself.”
“I am extremely sorry you find me so ignorant a cicerone,” repliedMorcerf, “but I am reluctantly obliged to confess, I have nothingfurther to communicate—yes, stay, I do know one thing more, namely, thatshe is a musician, for one day when I chanced to be breakfasting withthe count, I heard the sound of a guzla—it is impossible that it couldhave been touched by any other finger than her own.”
“Then your count entertains visitors, does he?” asked Madame Danglars.
“Indeed he does, and in a most lavish manner, I can assure you.”
“I must try and persuade M. Danglars to invite him to a ball or dinner,or something of the sort, that he may be compelled to ask us in return.”
“What,” said Debray, laughing; “do you really mean you would go to hishouse?”
“Why not? my husband could accompany me.”
“But do you know this mysterious count is a bachelor?”
“You have ample proof to the contrary, if you look opposite,” said thebaroness, as she laughingly pointed to the beautiful Greek.
“No, no!” exclaimed Debray; “that girl is not his wife: he told ushimself she was his slave. Do you not recollect, Morcerf, his telling usso at your breakfast?”
“Well, then,” said the baroness, “if slave she be, she has all the airand manner of a princess.”
“Of the ‘Arabian Nights’.”
“If you like; but tell me, my dear Lucien, what it is that constitutes aprincess. Why, diamonds—and she is covered with them.”
“To me she seems overloaded,” observed Eugénie; “she would look farbetter if she wore fewer, and we should then be able to see her finelyformed throat and wrists.”
“See how the artist peeps out!” exclaimed Madame Danglars. “My poorEugénie, you must conceal your passion for the fine arts.”
“I admire all that is beautiful,” returned the young lady.
“What do you think of the count?” inquired Debray; “he is not muchamiss, according to my ideas of good looks.”
“The count,” repeated Eugénie, as though it had not occurred to her toobserve him sooner; “the count?—oh, he is so dreadfully pale.”
“I quite agree with you,” said Morcerf; “and the secret of th
at verypallor is what we want to find out. The Countess G—— insists upon itthat he is a vampire.”
“Then the Countess G—— has returned to Paris, has she?” inquired thebaroness.
“Is that she, mamma?” asked Eugénie; “almost opposite to us, with thatprofusion of beautiful light hair?”
“Yes,” said Madame Danglars, “that is she. Shall I tell you what youought to do, Morcerf?”
“Command me, madame.”
“Well, then, you should go and bring your Count of Monte Cristo to us.”
“What for?” asked Eugénie.
“What for? Why, to converse with him, of course. Have you really nodesire to meet him?”
“None whatever,” replied Eugénie.
“Strange child,” murmured the baroness.
“He will very probably come of his own accord,” said Morcerf. “There; doyou see, madame, he recognizes you, and bows.”
The baroness returned the salute in the most smiling and gracefulmanner.
“Well,” said Morcerf, “I may as well be magnanimous, and tear myselfaway to forward your wishes. Adieu; I will go and try if there are anymeans of speaking to him.”
“Go straight to his box; that will be the simplest plan.”
“But I have never been presented.”
“Presented to whom?”
“To the beautiful Greek.”
“You say she is only a slave?”
“While you assert that she is a queen, or at least a princess. No; Ihope that when he sees me leave you, he will come out.”
“That is possible—go.”
“I am going,” said Albert, as he made his parting bow.
Just as he was passing the count’s box, the door opened, and MonteCristo came forth. After giving some directions to Ali, who stood in thelobby, the count took Albert’s arm. Carefully closing the box door, Aliplaced himself before it, while a crowd of spectators assembled roundthe Nubian.
“Upon my word,” said Monte Cristo, “Paris is a strange city, and theParisians a very singular people. See that cluster of persons collectedaround poor Ali, who is as much astonished as themselves; really onemight suppose he was the only Nubian they had ever beheld. Now I canpromise you, that a Frenchman might show himself in public, either inTunis, Constantinople, Bagdad, or Cairo, without being treated in thatway.”
“That shows that the Eastern nations have too much good sense to wastetheir time and attention on objects undeserving of either. However, asfar as Ali is concerned, I can assure you, the interest he excites ismerely from the circumstance of his being your attendant—you, who are atthis moment the most celebrated and fashionable person in Paris.”
“Really? and what has procured me so flattering a distinction?”
“What? why, yourself, to be sure! You give away horses worth a thousandlouis; you save the lives of ladies of high rank and beauty; under thename of Major Black you run thoroughbreds ridden by tiny urchins notlarger than marmots; then, when you have carried off the golden trophyof victory, instead of setting any value on it, you give it to the firsthandsome woman you think of!”
“And who has filled your head with all this nonsense?”
“Why, in the first place, I heard it from Madame Danglars, who, by theby, is dying to see you in her box, or to have you seen there by others;secondly, I learned it from Beauchamp’s journal; and thirdly, from myown imagination. Why, if you sought concealment, did you call your horseVampa?”
“That was an oversight, certainly,” replied the count; “but tell me,does the Count of Morcerf never visit the Opera? I have been looking forhim, but without success.”
“He will be here tonight.”
“In what part of the house?”
“In the baroness’s box, I believe.”
“That charming young woman with her is her daughter?”
“Yes.”
“I congratulate you.”
Morcerf smiled.
“We will discuss that subject at length some future time,” said he. “Butwhat do you think of the music?”
“What music?”
“Why, the music you have been listening to.”
“Oh, it is well enough as the production of a human composer, sung byfeatherless bipeds, to quote the late Diogenes.”
“From which it would seem, my dear count, that you can at pleasure enjoythe seraphic strains that proceed from the seven choirs of paradise?”
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“You are right, in some degree; when I wish to listen to sounds moreexquisitely attuned to melody than mortal ear ever yet listened to, I goto sleep.”
“Then sleep here, my dear count. The conditions are favorable; what elsewas opera invented for?”
“No, thank you. Your orchestra is too noisy. To sleep after the manner Ispeak of, absolute calm and silence are necessary, and then a certainpreparation——”
“I know—the famous hashish!”
“Precisely. So, my dear viscount, whenever you wish to be regaled withmusic come and sup with me.”
“I have already enjoyed that treat when breakfasting with you,” saidMorcerf.
“Do you mean at Rome?”
“I do.”
“Ah, then, I suppose you heard Haydée’s guzla; the poor exile frequentlybeguiles a weary hour in playing over to me the airs of her nativeland.”
Morcerf did not pursue the subject, and Monte Cristo himself fell into asilent reverie.
The bell rang at this moment for the rising of the curtain.
“You will excuse my leaving you,” said the count, turning in thedirection of his box.
“What? Are you going?”
“Pray, say everything that is kind to Countess G—— on the part of herfriend the vampire.”
“And what message shall I convey to the baroness!”
“That, with her permission, I shall do myself the honor of paying myrespects in the course of the evening.”
The third act had begun; and during its progress the Count of Morcerf,according to his promise, made his appearance in the box of MadameDanglars. The Count of Morcerf was not a person to excite eitherinterest or curiosity in a place of public amusement; his presence,therefore, was wholly unnoticed, save by the occupants of the box inwhich he had just seated himself.
The quick eye of Monte Cristo however, marked his coming; and a slightthough meaning smile passed over his lips. Haydée, whose soul seemedcentred in the business of the stage, like all unsophisticated natures,delighted in whatever addressed itself to the eye or ear.
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The third act passed off as usual. Mesdemoiselles Noblet, Julia, andLeroux executed the customary pirouettes; Robert duly challenged thePrince of Granada; and the royal father of the princess Isabella, takinghis daughter by the hand, swept round the stage with majestic strides,the better to display the rich folds of his velvet robe and mantle.After which the curtain again fell, and the spectators poured forth fromthe theatre into the lobbies and salon.
The count left his box, and a moment later was saluting the BaronneDanglars, who could not restrain a cry of mingled pleasure and surprise.
“You are welcome, count!” she exclaimed, as he entered. “I have beenmost anxious to see you, that I might repeat orally the thanks writingcan so ill express.”
“Surely so trifling a circumstance cannot deserve a place in yourremembrance. Believe me, madame, I had entirely forgotten it.”
“But it is not so easy to forget, monsieur, that the very next day afteryour princely gift you saved the life of my dear friend, Madame deVillefort, which was endangered by the very animals your generosityrestored to me.”
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“This time, at least, I do not deserve your thanks. It was Ali, myNubian slave, who rendered this service to Madame de Villefort.”
“Was it Ali,” asked the Count of Morcerf, “who rescued my son from thehands of bandits?”
“No, count,” replied Monte Cristo taking the hand held out to him by thegeneral; “in this inst
ance I may fairly and freely accept your thanks;but you have already tendered them, and fully discharged your debt—ifindeed there existed one—and I feel almost mortified to find you stillreverting to the subject. May I beg of you, baroness, to honor me withan introduction to your daughter?”
“Oh, you are no stranger—at least not by name,” replied Madame Danglars,“and the last two or three days we have really talked of nothing butyou. Eugénie,” continued the baroness, turning towards her daughter,“this is the Count of Monte Cristo.”
The count bowed, while Mademoiselle Danglars bent her head slightly.
“You have a charming young person with you tonight, count,” saidEugénie. “Is she your daughter?”
“No, mademoiselle,” said Monte Cristo, astonished at the coolness andfreedom of the question. “She is a poor unfortunate Greek left under mycare.”
“And what is her name?”
“Haydée,” replied Monte Cristo.
“A Greek?” murmured the Count of Morcerf.
“Yes, indeed, count,” said Madame Danglars; “and tell me, did you eversee at the court of Ali Tepelini, whom you so gloriously and valiantlyserved, a more exquisite beauty or richer costume?”
“Did I hear rightly, monsieur,” said Monte Cristo “that you served atYanina?”
“I was inspector-general of the pasha’s troops,” replied Morcerf; “andit is no secret that I owe my fortune, such as it is, to the liberalityof the illustrious Albanese chief.”
“But look!” exclaimed Madame Danglars.
“Where?” stammered Morcerf.
“There,” said Monte Cristo placing his arms around the count, andleaning with him over the front of the box, just as Haydée, whose eyeswere occupied in examining the theatre in search of her guardian,perceived his pale features close to Morcerf’s face. It was as if theyoung girl beheld the head of Medusa. She bent forwards as though toassure herself of the reality of what she saw, then, uttering a faintcry, threw herself back in her seat. The sound was heard by the peopleabout Ali, who instantly opened the box-door.
“Why, count,” exclaimed Eugénie, “what has happened to your ward? sheseems to have been taken suddenly ill.
“Very probably,” answered the count. “But do not be alarmed on heraccount. Haydée’s nervous system is delicately organized, and she ispeculiarly susceptible to the odors even of flowers—nay, there are somewhich cause her to faint if brought into her presence. However,”continued Monte Cristo, drawing a small phial from his pocket, “I havean infallible remedy.”
So saying, he bowed to the baroness and her daughter, exchanged aparting shake of the hand with Debray and the count, and left MadameDanglars’ box. Upon his return to Haydée he found her still very pale.As soon as she saw him she seized his hand; her own hands were moist andicy cold.
“Who was it you were talking with over there?” she asked.
“With the Count of Morcerf,” answered Monte Cristo. “He tells me heserved your illustrious father, and that he owes his fortune to him.”
“Wretch!” exclaimed Haydée, her eyes flashing with rage; “he sold myfather to the Turks, and the fortune he boasts of was the price of histreachery! Did not you know that, my dear lord?”
“Something of this I heard in Epirus,” said Monte Cristo; “but theparticulars are still unknown to me. You shall relate them to me, mychild. They are, no doubt, both curious and interesting.”
“Yes, yes; but let us go. I feel as though it would kill me to remainlong near that dreadful man.”
So saying, Haydée arose, and wrapping herself in her burnouse of whitecashmere embroidered with pearls and coral, she hastily quitted the boxat the moment when the curtain was rising upon the fourth act.
“Do you observe,” said the Countess G—— to Albert, who had returned toher side, “that man does nothing like other people; he listens mostdevoutly to the third act of Robert le Diable, and when the fourthbegins, takes his departure.”
The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 54