Chapter 78. We hear From Yanina
If Valentine could have seen the trembling step and agitated countenanceof Franz when he quitted the chamber of M. Noirtier, even she would havebeen constrained to pity him. Villefort had only just given utterance toa few incoherent sentences, and then retired to his study, where hereceived about two hours afterwards the following letter:
“After all the disclosures which were made this morning, M. Noirtier deVillefort must see the utter impossibility of any alliance being formedbetween his family and that of M. Franz d’Épinay. M. d’Épinay must saythat he is shocked and astonished that M. de Villefort, who appeared tobe aware of all the circumstances detailed this morning, should not haveanticipated him in this announcement.”
No one who had seen the magistrate at this moment, so thoroughlyunnerved by the recent inauspicious combination of circumstances, wouldhave supposed for an instant that he had anticipated the annoyance;although it certainly never had occurred to him that his father wouldcarry candor, or rather rudeness, so far as to relate such a history.And in justice to Villefort, it must be understood that M. Noirtier, whonever cared for the opinion of his son on any subject, had alwaysomitted to explain the affair to Villefort, so that he had all his lifeentertained the belief that General de Quesnel, or the Baron d’Épinay,as he was alternately styled, according as the speaker wished toidentify him by his own family name, or by the title which had beenconferred on him, fell the victim of assassination, and not that he waskilled fairly in a duel. This harsh letter, coming as it did from a mangenerally so polite and respectful, struck a mortal blow at the pride ofVillefort.
Hardly had he read the letter, when his wife entered. The suddendeparture of Franz, after being summoned by M. Noirtier, had so muchastonished everyone, that the position of Madame de Villefort, leftalone with the notary and the witnesses, became every moment moreembarrassing. Determined to bear it no longer, she arose and left theroom; saying she would go and make some inquiries into the cause of hissudden disappearance.
M. de Villefort’s communications on the subject were very limited andconcise; he told her, in fact, that an explanation had taken placebetween M. Noirtier, M. d’Épinay, and himself, and that the marriage ofValentine and Franz would consequently be broken off. This was anawkward and unpleasant thing to have to report to those who werewaiting. She therefore contented herself with saying that M. Noirtierhaving at the commencement of the discussion been attacked by a sort ofapoplectic fit, the affair would necessarily be deferred for some dayslonger. This news, false as it was following so singularly in the trainof the two similar misfortunes which had so recently occurred, evidentlyastonished the auditors, and they retired without a word.
During this time Valentine, at once terrified and happy, after havingembraced and thanked the feeble old man for thus breaking with a singleblow the chain which she had been accustomed to consider asirrefragable, asked leave to retire to her own room, in order to recoverher composure. Noirtier looked the permission which she solicited. Butinstead of going to her own room, Valentine, having once gained herliberty, entered the gallery, and, opening a small door at the end ofit, found herself at once in the garden.
In the midst of all the strange events which had crowded one on theother, an indefinable sentiment of dread had taken possession ofValentine’s mind. She expected every moment that she should see Morrelappear, pale and trembling, to forbid the signing of the contract, likethe Laird of Ravenswood in The Bride of Lammermoor.
It was high time for her to make her appearance at the gate, forMaximilian had long awaited her coming. He had half guessed what wasgoing on when he saw Franz quit the cemetery with M. de Villefort. Hefollowed M. d’Épinay, saw him enter, afterwards go out, and then re-enter with Albert and Château-Renaud. He had no longer any doubts as tothe nature of the conference; he therefore quickly went to the gate inthe clover-patch, prepared to hear the result of the proceedings, andvery certain that Valentine would hasten to him the first moment sheshould be set at liberty. He was not mistaken; peering through thecrevices of the wooden partition, he soon discovered the young girl, whocast aside all her usual precautions and walked at once to the barrier.The first glance which Maximilian directed towards her entirelyreassured him, and the first words she spoke made his heart bound withdelight.
“We are saved!” said Valentine.
“Saved?” repeated Morrel, not being able to conceive such intensehappiness; “by whom?”
“By my grandfather. Oh, Morrel, pray love him for all his goodness tous!”
Morrel swore to love him with all his soul; and at that moment he couldsafely promise to do so, for he felt as though it were not enough tolove him merely as a friend or even as a father, he worshiped him as agod.
“But tell me, Valentine, how has it all been effected? What strangemeans has he used to compass this blessed end?”
Valentine was on the point of relating all that had passed, but shesuddenly remembered that in doing so she must reveal a terrible secretwhich concerned others as well as her grandfather, and she said:
“At some future time I will tell you all about it.”
“But when will that be?”
“When I am your wife.”
The conversation had now turned upon a topic so pleasing to Morrel, thathe was ready to accede to anything that Valentine thought fit topropose, and he likewise felt that a piece of intelligence such as hejust heard ought to be more than sufficient to content him for one day.However, he would not leave without the promise of seeing Valentineagain the next night. Valentine promised all that Morrel required ofher, and certainly it was less difficult now for her to believe that sheshould marry Maximilian than it was an hour ago to assure herself thatshe should not marry Franz.
During the time occupied by the interview we have just detailed, Madamede Villefort had gone to visit M. Noirtier. The old man looked at herwith that stern and forbidding expression with which he was accustomedto receive her.
“Sir,” said she, “it is superfluous for me to tell you that Valentine’smarriage is broken off, since it was here that the affair wasconcluded.”
Noirtier’s countenance remained immovable.
“But one thing I can tell you, of which I do not think you are aware;that is, that I have always been opposed to this marriage, and that thecontract was entered into entirely without my consent or approbation.”
Noirtier regarded his daughter-in-law with the look of a man desiring anexplanation.
“Now that this marriage, which I know you so much disliked, is done awaywith, I come to you on an errand which neither M. de Villefort norValentine could consistently undertake.”
Noirtier’s eyes demanded the nature of her mission.
“I come to entreat you, sir,” continued Madame de Villefort, “as theonly one who has the right of doing so, inasmuch as I am the only onewho will receive no personal benefit from the transaction,—I come toentreat you to restore, not your love, for that she has alwayspossessed, but to restore your fortune to your granddaughter.”
There was a doubtful expression in Noirtier’s eyes; he was evidentlytrying to discover the motive of this proceeding, and he could notsucceed in doing so.
“May I hope, sir,” said Madame de Villefort, “that your intentionsaccord with my request?”
Noirtier made a sign that they did.
“In that case, sir,” rejoined Madame de Villefort, “I will leave youoverwhelmed with gratitude and happiness at your prompt acquiescence tomy wishes.” She then bowed to M. Noirtier and retired.
The next day M. Noirtier sent for the notary; the first will was torn upand a second made, in which he left the whole of his fortune toValentine, on condition that she should never be separated from him. Itwas then generally reported that Mademoiselle de Villefort, the heiressof the marquis and marchioness of Saint-Méran, had regained the goodgraces of her grandfather, and that she would ultimately be inpossession of an income of 300,000 livres.
While all t
he proceedings relative to the dissolution of the marriage-contract were being carried on at the house of M. de Villefort, MonteCristo had paid his visit to the Count of Morcerf, who, in order to loseno time in responding to M. Danglars’ wishes, and at the same time topay all due deference to his position in society, donned his uniform oflieutenant-general, which he ornamented with all his crosses, and thusattired, ordered his finest horses and drove to the Rue de la Chausséed’Antin.
Danglars was balancing his monthly accounts, and it was perhaps not themost favorable moment for finding him in his best humor. At the firstsight of his old friend, Danglars assumed his majestic air, and settledhimself in his easy-chair.
Morcerf, usually so stiff and formal, accosted the banker in an affableand smiling manner, and, feeling sure that the overture he was about tomake would be well received, he did not consider it necessary to adoptany manœuvres in order to gain his end, but went at once straight to thepoint.
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“Well, baron,” said he, “here I am at last; some time has elapsed sinceour plans were formed, and they are not yet executed.”
Morcerf paused at these words, quietly waiting till the cloud shouldhave dispersed which had gathered on the brow of Danglars, and which heattributed to his silence; but, on the contrary, to his great surprise,it grew darker and darker.
“To what do you allude, monsieur?” said Danglars; as if he were tryingin vain to guess at the possible meaning of the general’s words.
“Ah,” said Morcerf, “I see you are a stickler for forms, my dear sir,and you would remind me that the ceremonial rites should not be omitted.Ma foi, I beg your pardon, but as I have but one son, and it is thefirst time I have ever thought of marrying him, I am still serving myapprenticeship, you know; come, I will reform.”
And Morcerf with a forced smile arose, and, making a low bow to M.Danglars, said:
“Baron, I have the honor of asking of you the hand of MademoiselleEugénie Danglars for my son, the Vicomte Albert de Morcerf.”
But Danglars, instead of receiving this address in the favorable mannerwhich Morcerf had expected, knit his brow, and without inviting thecount, who was still standing, to take a seat, he said:
“Monsieur, it will be necessary to reflect before I give you an answer.”
“To reflect?” said Morcerf, more and more astonished; “have you not hadenough time for reflection during the eight years which have elapsedsince this marriage was first discussed between us?”
“Count,” said the banker, “things are constantly occurring in the worldto induce us to lay aside our most established opinions, or at allevents to cause us to remodel them according to the change ofcircumstances, which may have placed affairs in a totally differentlight to that in which we at first viewed them.”
“I do not understand you, baron,” said Morcerf.
“What I mean to say is this, sir,—that during the last fortnightunforeseen circumstances have occurred——”
“Excuse me,” said Morcerf, “but is it a play we are acting?”
“A play?”
“Yes, for it is like one; pray let us come more to the point, andendeavor thoroughly to understand each other.”
“That is quite my desire.”
“You have seen M. de Monte Cristo have you not?”
“I see him very often,” said Danglars, drawing himself up; “he is aparticular friend of mine.”
“Well, in one of your late conversations with him, you said that Iappeared to be forgetful and irresolute concerning this marriage, didyou not?”
“I did say so.”
“Well, here I am, proving at once that I am really neither the one northe other, by entreating you to keep your promise on that score.”
Danglars did not answer.
“Have you so soon changed your mind,” added Morcerf, “or have you onlyprovoked my request that you may have the pleasure of seeing mehumbled?”
Danglars, seeing that if he continued the conversation in the same tonein which he had begun it, the whole thing might turn out to his owndisadvantage, turned to Morcerf, and said:
“Count, you must doubtless be surprised at my reserve, and I assure youit costs me much to act in such a manner towards you; but, believe mewhen I say that imperative necessity has imposed the painful task uponme.”
“These are all so many empty words, my dear sir,” said Morcerf: “theymight satisfy a new acquaintance, but the Comte de Morcerf does not rankin that list; and when a man like him comes to another, recalls to himhis plighted word, and this man fails to redeem the pledge, he has atleast a right to exact from him a good reason for so doing.”
Danglars was a coward, but did not wish to appear so; he was piqued atthe tone which Morcerf had just assumed.
“I am not without a good reason for my conduct,” replied the banker.
“What do you mean to say?”
“I mean to say that I have a good reason, but that it is difficult toexplain.”
“You must be aware, at all events, that it is impossible for me tounderstand motives before they are explained to me; but one thing atleast is clear, which is, that you decline allying yourself with myfamily.”
“No, sir,” said Danglars; “I merely suspend my decision, that is all.”
“And do you really flatter yourself that I shall yield to all yourcaprices, and quietly and humbly await the time of again being receivedinto your good graces?”
“Then, count, if you will not wait, we must look upon these projects asif they had never been entertained.”
The count bit his lips till the blood almost started, to prevent theebullition of anger which his proud and irritable temper scarcelyallowed him to restrain; understanding, however, that in the presentstate of things the laugh would decidedly be against him, he turned fromthe door, towards which he had been directing his steps, and againconfronted the banker. A cloud settled on his brow, evincing decidedanxiety and uneasiness, instead of the expression of offended pridewhich had lately reigned there.
“My dear Danglars,” said Morcerf, “we have been acquainted for manyyears, and consequently we ought to make some allowance for each other’sfailings. You owe me an explanation, and really it is but fair that Ishould know what circumstance has occurred to deprive my son of yourfavor.”
“It is from no personal ill-feeling towards the viscount, that is all Ican say, sir,” replied Danglars, who resumed his insolent manner as soonas he perceived that Morcerf was a little softened and calmed down.
“And towards whom do you bear this personal ill-feeling, then?” saidMorcerf, turning pale with anger. The expression of the count’s face hadnot remained unperceived by the banker; he fixed on him a look ofgreater assurance than before, and said:
“You may, perhaps, be better satisfied that I should not go farther intoparticulars.”
A tremor of suppressed rage shook the whole frame of the count, andmaking a violent effort over himself, he said: “I have a right to insiston your giving me an explanation. Is it Madame de Morcerf who hasdispleased you? Is it my fortune which you find insufficient? Is itbecause my opinions differ from yours?”
“Nothing of the kind, sir,” replied Danglars: “if such had been thecase, I only should have been to blame, inasmuch as I was aware of allthese things when I made the engagement. No, do not seek any longer todiscover the reason. I really am quite ashamed to have been the cause ofyour undergoing such severe self-examination; let us drop the subject,and adopt the middle course of delay, which implies neither a rupturenor an engagement. Ma foi, there is no hurry. My daughter is onlyseventeen years old, and your son twenty-one. While we wait, time willbe progressing, events will succeed each other; things which in theevening look dark and obscure, appear but too clearly in the light ofmorning, and sometimes the utterance of one word, or the lapse of asingle day, will reveal the most cruel calumnies.”
“Calumnies, did you say, sir?” cried Morcerf, turning livid with rage.“Does anyone dare to slander me?”
“Then, sir, I am patiently to submit to your refusal?”
“Yes, sir, although I assure you the refusal is as painful for me togive as it is for you to receive, for I had reckoned on the honor ofyour alliance, and the breaking off of a marriage contract alwaysinjures the lady more than the gentleman.”
“Enough, sir,” said Morcerf, “we will speak no more on the subject.”
And clutching his gloves in anger, he left the apartment. Danglarsobserved that during the whole conversation Morcerf had never once daredto ask if it was on his own account that Danglars recalled his word.
That evening he had a long conference with several friends; and M.Cavalcanti, who had remained in the drawing-room with the ladies, wasthe last to leave the banker’s house.
The next morning, as soon as he awoke, Danglars asked for thenewspapers; they were brought to him; he laid aside three or four, andat last fixed on l’Impartial, the paper of which Beauchamp was the chiefeditor. He hastily tore off the cover, opened the journal with nervousprecipitation, passed contemptuously over the Paris jottings, andarriving at the miscellaneous intelligence, stopped with a malicioussmile, at a paragraph headed
We hear from Yanina.
“Very good,” observed Danglars, after having read the paragraph; “hereis a little article on Colonel Fernand, which, if I am not mistaken,would render the explanation which the Comte de Morcerf required of meperfectly unnecessary.”
At the same moment, that is, at nine o’clock in the morning, Albert deMorcerf, dressed in a black coat buttoned up to his chin, might havebeen seen walking with a quick and agitated step in the direction ofMonte Cristo’s house in the Champs-Élysées. When he presented himself atthe gate the porter informed him that the Count had gone out about halfan hour previously.
“Did he take Baptistin with him?”
“No, my lord.”
“Call him, then; I wish to speak to him.”
The concierge went to seek the valet de chambre, and returned with himin an instant.
“My good friend,” said Albert, “I beg pardon for my intrusion, but I wasanxious to know from your own mouth if your master was really out ornot.”
“He is really out, sir,” replied Baptistin.
“Out, even to me?”
“I know how happy my master always is to receive the vicomte,” saidBaptistin; “and I should therefore never think of including him in anygeneral order.”
“You are right; and now I wish to see him on an affair of greatimportance. Do you think it will be long before he comes in?”
“No, I think not, for he ordered his breakfast at ten o’clock.”
“Well, I will go and take a turn in the Champs-Élysées, and at teno’clock I will return here; meanwhile, if the count should come in, willyou beg him not to go out again without seeing me?”
“You may depend on my doing so, sir,” said Baptistin.
Albert left the cab in which he had come at the count’s door, intendingto take a turn on foot. As he was passing the Allée des Veuves, hethought he saw the count’s horses standing at Gosset’s shooting-gallery;he approached, and soon recognized the coachman.
“Is the count shooting in the gallery?” said Morcerf.
“Yes, sir,” replied the coachman. While he was speaking, Albert hadheard the report of two or three pistol-shots. He entered, and on hisway met the waiter.
“Excuse me, my lord,” said the lad; “but will you have the kindness towait a moment?”
“What for, Philip?” asked Albert, who, being a constant visitor there,did not understand this opposition to his entrance.
“Because the person who is now in the gallery prefers being alone, andnever practices in the presence of anyone.”
“Not even before you, Philip? Then who loads his pistol?”
“His servant.”
“A Nubian?”
“A negro.”
“It is he, then.”
“Do you know this gentleman?”
“Yes, and I am come to look for him; he is a friend of mine.”
“Oh, that is quite another thing, then. I will go immediately and informhim of your arrival.”
And Philip, urged by his own curiosity, entered the gallery; a secondafterwards, Monte Cristo appeared on the threshold.
“I ask your pardon, my dear count,” said Albert, “for following youhere, and I must first tell you that it was not the fault of yourservants that I did so; I alone am to blame for the indiscretion. I wentto your house, and they told me you were out, but that they expected youhome at ten o’clock to breakfast. I was walking about in order to passaway the time till ten o’clock, when I caught sight of your carriage andhorses.”
“What you have just said induces me to hope that you intend breakfastingwith me.”
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“No, thank you, I am thinking of other things besides breakfast justnow; perhaps we may take that meal at a later hour and in worsecompany.”
“What on earth are you talking of?”
“I am to fight today.”
“For what?”
“For the sake of fighting!”
“Yes, I understand that, but what is the quarrel? People fight for allsorts of reasons, you know.”
“I fight in the cause of honor.”
“Ah, that is something serious.”
“So serious, that I come to beg you to render me a service.”
“What is it?”
“To be my second.”
“That is a serious matter, and we will not discuss it here; let us speakof nothing till we get home. Ali, bring me some water.”
The count turned up his sleeves, and passed into the little vestibulewhere the gentlemen were accustomed to wash their hands after shooting.
“Come in, my lord,” said Philip in a low tone, “and I will show yousomething droll.” Morcerf entered, and in place of the usual target, hesaw some playing-cards fixed against the wall. At a distance Albertthought it was a complete suit, for he counted from the ace to the ten.
“Ah, ha,” said Albert, “I see you were preparing for a game of cards.”
“No,” said the count, “I was making a suit.”
“How?” said Albert.
“Those are really aces and twos which you see, but my shots have turnedthem into threes, fives, sevens, eights, nines, and tens.”
Albert approached. In fact, the bullets had actually pierced the cardsin the exact places which the painted signs would otherwise haveoccupied, the lines and distances being as regularly kept as if they hadbeen ruled with pencil. In going up to the target Morcerf picked up twoor three swallows that had been rash enough to come within the range ofthe count’s pistol.
“Diable!” said Morcerf.
“What would you have, my dear viscount?” said Monte Cristo, wiping hishands on the towel which Ali had brought him; “I must occupy my leisuremoments in some way or other. But come, I am waiting for you.”
Both men entered Monte Cristo’s carriage, which in the course of a fewminutes deposited them safely at No. 30. Monte Cristo took Albert intohis study, and pointing to a seat, placed another for himself. “Now letus talk the matter over quietly,” said the count.
“You see I am perfectly composed,” said Albert.
“With whom are you going to fight?”
“With Beauchamp.”
“One of your friends!”
“Of course; it is always with friends that one fights.”
“I suppose you have some cause of quarrel?”
“I have.”
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“What has he done to you?”
“There appeared in his journal last night—but wait, and read foryourself.” And Albert handed over the paper to the count, who read asfollows:
“A correspondent at Yanina informs us of a fact of which until now wehad remained in ignorance. The castle which formed the protection of thetown was
given up to the Turks by a French officer named Fernand, inwhom the grand vizier, Ali Tepelini, had reposed the greatestconfidence.”
“Well,” said Monte Cristo, “what do you see in that to annoy you?”
“What do I see in it?”
“Yes; what does it signify to you if the castle of Yanina was given upby a French officer?”
“It signifies to my father, the Count of Morcerf, whose Christian nameis Fernand!”
“Did your father serve under Ali Pasha?”
“Yes; that is to say, he fought for the independence of the Greeks, andhence arises the calumny.”
“Oh, my dear viscount, do talk reason!”
“I do not desire to do otherwise.”
“Now, just tell me who the devil should know in France that the officerFernand and the Count of Morcerf are one and the same person? and whocares now about Yanina, which was taken as long ago as the year 1822 or1823?”
“That just shows the meanness of this slander. They have allowed allthis time to elapse, and then all of a sudden rake up events which havebeen forgotten to furnish materials for scandal, in order to tarnish thelustre of our high position. I inherit my father’s name, and I do notchoose that the shadow of disgrace should darken it. I am going toBeauchamp, in whose journal this paragraph appears, and I shall insiston his retracting the assertion before two witnesses.”
“Beauchamp will never retract.”
“Then we must fight.”
“No you will not, for he will tell you, what is very true, that perhapsthere were fifty officers in the Greek army bearing the same name.”
“We will fight, nevertheless. I will efface that blot on my father’scharacter. My father, who was such a brave soldier, whose career was sobrilliant——”
“Oh, well, he will add, ‘We are warranted in believing that this Fernandis not the illustrious Count of Morcerf, who also bears the sameChristian name.’”
“I am determined not to be content with anything short of an entireretractation.”
“And you intend to make him do it in the presence of two witnesses, doyou?”
“Yes.”
“You do wrong.”
“Which means, I suppose, that you refuse the service which I asked ofyou?”
“You know my theory regarding duels; I told you my opinion on thatsubject, if you remember, when we were at Rome.”
“Nevertheless, my dear count, I found you this morning engaged in anoccupation but little consistent with the notions you profess toentertain.”
“Because, my dear fellow, you understand one must never be eccentric. Ifone’s lot is cast among fools, it is necessary to study folly. I shallperhaps find myself one day called out by some harebrained scamp, whohas no more real cause of quarrel with me than you have with Beauchamp;he may take me to task for some foolish trifle or other, he will bringhis witnesses, or will insult me in some public place, and I am expectedto kill him for all that.”
“You admit that you would fight, then? Well, if so, why do you object tomy doing so?”
“I do not say that you ought not to fight, I only say that a duel is aserious thing, and ought not to be undertaken without due reflection.”
“Did he reflect before he insulted my father?”
“If he spoke hastily, and owns that he did so, you ought to besatisfied.”
“Ah, my dear count, you are far too indulgent.”
“And you are far too exacting. Supposing, for instance, and do not beangry at what I am going to say——”
“Well.”
“Supposing the assertion to be really true?”
“A son ought not to submit to such a stain on his father’s honor.”
“Ma foi! we live in times when there is much to which we must submit.”
“That is precisely the fault of the age.”
“And do you undertake to reform it?”
“Yes, as far as I am personally concerned.”
“Well, you are indeed exacting, my dear fellow!”
“Yes, I own it.”
“Are you quite impervious to good advice?”
“Not when it comes from a friend.”
“And do you account me that title?”
“Certainly I do.”
“Well, then, before going to Beauchamp with your witnesses, seek furtherinformation on the subject.”
“From whom?”
“From Haydée.”
“Why, what can be the use of mixing a woman up in the affair?—what canshe do in it?”
“She can declare to you, for example, that your father had no handwhatever in the defeat and death of the vizier; or if by chance he had,indeed, the misfortune to——”
“I have told you, my dear count, that I would not for one moment admitof such a proposition.”
“You reject this means of information, then?”
“I do—most decidedly.”
“Then let me offer one more word of advice.”
“Do so, then, but let it be the last.”
“You do not wish to hear it, perhaps?”
“On the contrary, I request it.”
“Do not take any witnesses with you when you go to Beauchamp—visit himalone.”
“That would be contrary to all custom.”
“Your case is not an ordinary one.”
“And what is your reason for advising me to go alone?”
“Because then the affair will rest between you and Beauchamp.”
“Explain yourself.”
“I will do so. If Beauchamp be disposed to retract, you ought at leastto give him the opportunity of doing it of his own free will,—thesatisfaction to you will be the same. If, on the contrary, he refuses todo so, it will then be quite time enough to admit two strangers intoyour secret.”
“They will not be strangers, they will be friends.”
“Ah, but the friends of today are the enemies of tomorrow; Beauchamp,for instance.”
“So you recommend——”
“I recommend you to be prudent.”
“Then you advise me to go alone to Beauchamp?”
“I do, and I will tell you why. When you wish to obtain some concessionfrom a man’s self-love, you must avoid even the appearance of wishing towound it.”
“I believe you are right.”
“I am glad of it.”
“Then I will go alone.”
“Go; but you would do better still by not going at all.”
“That is impossible.”
“Do so, then; it will be a wiser plan than the first which youproposed.”
“But if, in spite of all my precautions, I am at last obliged to fight,will you not be my second?”
“My dear viscount,” said Monte Cristo gravely, “you must have seenbefore today that at all times and in all places I have been at yourdisposal, but the service which you have just demanded of me is onewhich it is out of my power to render you.”
“Why?”
“Perhaps you may know at some future period, and in the mean time Irequest you to excuse my declining to put you in possession of myreasons.”
“Well, I will have Franz and Château-Renaud; they will be the very menfor it.”
“Do so, then.”
“But if I do fight, you will surely not object to giving me a lesson ortwo in shooting and fencing?”
“That, too, is impossible.”
“What a singular being you are!—you will not interfere in anything.”
“You are right—that is the principle on which I wish to act.”
“We will say no more about it, then. Good-bye, count.”
Morcerf took his hat, and left the room. He found his carriage at thedoor, and doing his utmost to restrain his anger he went at once to findBeauchamp, who was in his office. It was a gloomy, dusty-lookingapartment, such as journalists’ offices have always been from timeimmemorial. The servant announced M. Albert de Morcerf. Beauchamprepeated the name to himself, as though he could scarcely believe thathe had heard
aright, and then gave orders for him to be admitted. Albertentered.
Beauchamp uttered an exclamation of surprise on seeing his friend leapover and trample under foot all the newspapers which were strewed aboutthe room.
“This way, this way, my dear Albert!” said he, holding out his hand tothe young man. “Are you out of your senses, or do you come peaceably totake breakfast with me? Try and find a seat—there is one by thatgeranium, which is the only thing in the room to remind me that thereare other leaves in the world besides leaves of paper.”
“Beauchamp,” said Albert, “it is of your journal that I come to speak.”
“Indeed? What do you wish to say about it?”
“I desire that a statement contained in it should be rectified.”
“To what do you refer? But pray sit down.”
“Thank you,” said Albert, with a cold and formal bow.
“Will you now have the kindness to explain the nature of the statementwhich has displeased you?”
“An announcement has been made which implicates the honor of a member ofmy family.”
“What is it?” said Beauchamp, much surprised; “surely you must bemistaken.”
“The story sent you from Yanina.”
“Yanina?”
“Yes; really you appear to be totally ignorant of the cause which bringsme here.”
“Such is really the case, I assure you, upon my honor! Baptiste, give meyesterday’s paper,” cried Beauchamp.
“Here, I have brought mine with me,” replied Albert.
Beauchamp took the paper, and read the article to which Albert pointedin an undertone.
“You see it is a serious annoyance,” said Morcerf, when Beauchamp hadfinished the perusal of the paragraph.
“Is the officer referred to a relation of yours, then?” demanded thejournalist.
“Yes,” said Albert, blushing.
“Well, what do you wish me to do for you?” said Beauchamp mildly.
“My dear Beauchamp, I wish you to contradict this statement.” Beauchamplooked at Albert with a benevolent expression.
“Come,” said he, “this matter will want a good deal of talking over; aretractation is always a serious thing, you know. Sit down, and I willread it again.”
Albert resumed his seat, and Beauchamp read, with more attention than atfirst, the lines denounced by his friend.
“Well,” said Albert in a determined tone, “you see that your paper hasinsulted a member of my family, and I insist on a retractation beingmade.”
“You insist?”
“Yes, I insist.”
“Permit me to remind you that you are not in the Chamber, my dearviscount.”
“Nor do I wish to be there,” replied the young man, rising. “I repeatthat I am determined to have the announcement of yesterday contradicted.You have known me long enough,” continued Albert, biting his lipsconvulsively, for he saw that Beauchamp’s anger was beginning torise,—“you have been my friend, and therefore sufficiently intimate withme to be aware that I am likely to maintain my resolution on thispoint.”
“If I have been your friend, Morcerf, your present manner of speakingwould almost lead me to forget that I ever bore that title. But wait amoment, do not let us get angry, or at least not yet. You are irritatedand vexed—tell me how this Fernand is related to you?”
“He is merely my father,” said Albert—“M. Fernand Mondego, Count ofMorcerf, an old soldier who has fought in twenty battles and whosehonorable scars they would denounce as badges of disgrace.”
“Is it your father?” said Beauchamp; “that is quite another thing. ThenI can well understand your indignation, my dear Albert. I will look atit again;” and he read the paragraph for the third time, laying a stresson each word as he proceeded. “But the paper nowhere identifies thisFernand with your father.”
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“No; but the connection will be seen by others, and therefore I willhave the article contradicted.”
At the words I will, Beauchamp steadily raised his eyes to Albert’scountenance, and then as gradually lowering them, he remained thoughtfulfor a few moments.
“You will retract this assertion, will you not, Beauchamp?” said Albertwith increased though stifled anger.
“Yes,” replied Beauchamp.
“Immediately?” said Albert.
“When I am convinced that the statement is false.”
“What?”
“The thing is worth looking into, and I will take pains to investigatethe matter thoroughly.”
“But what is there to investigate, sir?” said Albert, enraged beyondmeasure at Beauchamp’s last remark. “If you do not believe that it is myfather, say so immediately; and if, on the contrary, you believe it tobe him, state your reasons for doing so.”
Beauchamp looked at Albert with the smile which was so peculiar to him,and which in its numerous modifications served to express every variedemotion of his mind.
“Sir,” replied he, “if you came to me with the idea of demandingsatisfaction, you should have gone at once to the point, and not haveentertained me with the idle conversation to which I have been patientlylistening for the last half hour. Am I to put this construction on yourvisit?”
“Yes, if you will not consent to retract that infamous calumny.”
“Wait a moment—no threats, if you please, M. Fernand Mondego, Vicomte deMorcerf; I never allow them from my enemies, and therefore shall not putup with them from my friends. You insist on my contradicting the articlerelating to General Fernand, an article with which, I assure you on myword of honor, I had nothing whatever to do?”
“Yes, I insist on it,” said Albert, whose mind was beginning to getbewildered with the excitement of his feelings.
“And if I refuse to retract, you wish to fight, do you?” said Beauchampin a calm tone.
“Yes,” replied Albert, raising his voice.
“Well,” said Beauchamp, “here is my answer, my dear sir. The article wasnot inserted by me—I was not even aware of it; but you have, by the stepyou have taken, called my attention to the paragraph in question, and itwill remain until it shall be either contradicted or confirmed bysomeone who has a right to do so.”
“Sir,” said Albert, rising, “I will do myself the honor of sending myseconds to you, and you will be kind enough to arrange with them theplace of meeting and the weapons.”
“Certainly, my dear sir.”
“And this evening, if you please, or tomorrow at the latest, we willmeet.”
“No, no, I will be on the ground at the proper time; but in my opinion(and I have a right to dictate the preliminaries, as it is I who havereceived the provocation)—in my opinion the time ought not to be yet. Iknow you to be well skilled in the management of the sword, while I amonly moderately so; I know, too, that you are a good marksman—there weare about equal. I know that a duel between us two would be a seriousaffair, because you are brave, and I am brave also. I do not thereforewish either to kill you, or to be killed myself without a cause. Now, Iam going to put a question to you, and one very much to the purpose too.Do you insist on this retractation so far as to kill me if I do not makeit, although I have repeated more than once, and affirmed on my honor,that I was ignorant of the thing with which you charge me, and althoughI still declare that it is impossible for anyone but you to recognizethe Count of Morcerf under the name of Fernand?”
“I maintain my original resolution.”
“Very well, my dear sir; then I consent to cut throats with you. But Irequire three weeks’ preparation; at the end of that time I shall comeand say to you, ‘The assertion is false, and I retract it,’ or ‘Theassertion is true,’ when I shall immediately draw the sword from itssheath, or the pistols from the case, whichever you please.”
“Three weeks!” cried Albert; “they will pass as slowly as threecenturies when I am all the time suffering dishonor.”
“Had you continued to remain on amicable terms with me, I should havesaid, ‘Patience, my frien
d;’ but you have constituted yourself my enemy,therefore I say, ‘What does that signify to me, sir?’”
“Well, let it be three weeks then,” said Morcerf; “but remember, at theexpiration of that time no delay or subterfuge will justify you in——”
“M. Albert de Morcerf,” said Beauchamp, rising in his turn, “I cannotthrow you out of window for three weeks—that is to say, for twenty-fourdays to come—nor have you any right to split my skull open till thattime has elapsed. Today is the 29th of August; the 21st of Septemberwill, therefore, be the conclusion of the term agreed on, and till thattime arrives—and it is the advice of a gentleman which I am about togive you—till then we will refrain from growling and barking like twodogs chained within sight of each other.”
When he had concluded his speech, Beauchamp bowed coldly to Albert,turned his back upon him, and went to the press-room. Albert vented hisanger on a pile of newspapers, which he sent flying all over the officeby switching them violently with his stick; after which ebullition hedeparted—not, however, without walking several times to the door of thepress-room, as if he had half a mind to enter.
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While Albert was lashing the front of his carriage in the same mannerthat he had the newspapers which were the innocent agents of hisdiscomfiture, as he was crossing the barrier he perceived Morrel, whowas walking with a quick step and a bright eye. He was passing theChinese Baths, and appeared to have come from the direction of the PorteSaint-Martin, and to be going towards the Madeleine.
“Ah,” said Morcerf, “there goes a happy man!” And it so happened Albertwas not mistaken in his opinion.
The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 79