Chapter 87. The Challenge
Then,” continued Beauchamp, “I took advantage of the silence and thedarkness to leave the house without being seen. The usher who hadintroduced me was waiting for me at the door, and he conducted methrough the corridors to a private entrance opening into the Rue deVaugirard. I left with mingled feelings of sorrow and delight. Excuseme, Albert,—sorrow on your account, and delight with that noble girl,thus pursuing paternal vengeance. Yes, Albert, from whatever source theblow may have proceeded—it may be from an enemy, but that enemy is onlythe agent of Providence.”
Albert held his head between his hands; he raised his face, red withshame and bathed in tears, and seizing Beauchamp’s arm:
“My friend,” said he, “my life is ended. I cannot calmly say with you,‘Providence has struck the blow;’ but I must discover who pursues mewith this hatred, and when I have found him I shall kill him, or he willkill me. I rely on your friendship to assist me, Beauchamp, if contempthas not banished it from your heart.”
“Contempt, my friend? How does this misfortune affect you? No, happilythat unjust prejudice is forgotten which made the son responsible forthe father’s actions. Review your life, Albert; although it is only justbeginning, did a lovely summer’s day ever dawn with greater purity thanhas marked the commencement of your career? No, Albert, take my advice.You are young and rich—leave Paris—all is soon forgotten in this greatBabylon of excitement and changing tastes. You will return after threeor four years with a Russian princess for a bride, and no one will thinkmore of what occurred yesterday than if it had happened sixteen yearsago.”
“Thank you, my dear Beauchamp, thank you for the excellent feeling whichprompts your advice; but it cannot be. I have told you my wish, orrather my determination. You understand that, interested as I am in thisaffair, I cannot see it in the same light as you do. What appears to youto emanate from a celestial source, seems to me to proceed from one farless pure. Providence appears to me to have no share in this affair; andhappily so, for instead of the invisible, impalpable agent of celestialrewards and punishments, I shall find one both palpable and visible, onwhom I shall revenge myself, I assure you, for all I have sufferedduring the last month. Now, I repeat, Beauchamp, I wish to return tohuman and material existence, and if you are still the friend youprofess to be, help me to discover the hand that struck the blow.”
“Be it so,” said Beauchamp; “if you must have me descend to earth, Isubmit; and if you will seek your enemy, I will assist you, and I willengage to find him, my honor being almost as deeply interested asyours.”
“Well, then, you understand, Beauchamp, that we begin our searchimmediately. Each moment’s delay is an eternity for me. The calumniatoris not yet punished, and he may hope that he will not be; but, on myhonor, if he thinks so, he deceives himself.”
“Well, listen, Morcerf.”
“Ah, Beauchamp, I see you know something already; you will restore me tolife.”
“I do not say there is any truth in what I am going to tell you, but itis, at least, a ray of light in a dark night; by following it we may,perhaps, discover something more certain.”
“Tell me; satisfy my impatience.”
“Well, I will tell you what I did not like to mention on my return fromYanina.”
“Say on.”
“I went, of course, to the chief banker of the town to make inquiries.At the first word, before I had even mentioned your father’s name”—
“‘Ah,’ said he. ‘I guess what brings you here.’
“‘How, and why?’
“‘Because a fortnight since I was questioned on the same subject.’
“‘By whom?’
“‘By a banker of Paris, my correspondent.’
“‘Whose name is——’
“‘Danglars.’”
“He!” cried Albert; “yes, it is indeed he who has so long pursued myfather with jealous hatred. He, the man who would be popular, cannotforgive the Count of Morcerf for being created a peer; and this marriagebroken off without a reason being assigned—yes, it is all from the samecause.”
“Make inquiries, Albert, but do not be angry without reason; makeinquiries, and if it be true——”
“Oh, yes, if it be true,” cried the young man, “he shall pay me all Ihave suffered.”
“Beware, Morcerf, he is already an old man.”
“I will respect his age as he has respected the honor of my family; ifmy father had offended him, why did he not attack him personally? Oh,no, he was afraid to encounter him face to face.”
“I do not condemn you, Albert; I only restrain you. Act prudently.”
“Oh, do not fear; besides, you will accompany me. Beauchamp, solemntransactions should be sanctioned by a witness. Before this day closes,if M. Danglars is guilty, he shall cease to live, or I shall die.Pardieu, Beauchamp, mine shall be a splendid funeral!”
“When such resolutions are made, Albert, they should be promptlyexecuted. Do you wish to go to M. Danglars? Let us go immediately.”
They sent for a cabriolet. On entering the banker’s mansion, theyperceived the phaeton and servant of M. Andrea Cavalcanti.
“Ah! parbleu! that’s good,” said Albert, with a gloomy tone. “If M.Danglars will not fight with me, I will kill his son-in-law; Cavalcantiwill certainly fight.”
The servant announced the young man; but the banker, recollecting whathad transpired the day before, did not wish him admitted. It was,however, too late; Albert had followed the footman, and, hearing theorder given, forced the door open, and followed by Beauchamp foundhimself in the banker’s study.
“Sir,” cried the latter, “am I no longer at liberty to receive whom Ichoose in my house? You appear to forget yourself sadly.”
“No, sir,” said Albert, coldly; “there are circumstances in which onecannot, except through cowardice,—I offer you that refuge,—refuse toadmit certain persons at least.”
“What is your errand, then, with me, sir?”
“I mean,” said Albert, drawing near, and without apparently noticingCavalcanti, who stood with his back towards the fireplace—“I mean topropose a meeting in some retired corner where no one will interrupt usfor ten minutes; that will be sufficient—where two men having met, oneof them will remain on the ground.”
Danglars turned pale; Cavalcanti moved a step forward, and Albert turnedtowards him.
“And you, too,” said he, “come, if you like, monsieur; you have a claim,being almost one of the family, and I will give as many rendezvous ofthat kind as I can find persons willing to accept them.”
Cavalcanti looked at Danglars with a stupefied air, and the latter,making an effort, arose and stepped between the two young men. Albert’sattack on Andrea had placed him on a different footing, and he hopedthis visit had another cause than that he had at first supposed.
“Indeed, sir,” said he to Albert, “if you are come to quarrel with thisgentleman because I have preferred him to you, I shall resign the caseto the king’s attorney.”
“You mistake, sir,” said Morcerf with a gloomy smile; “I am notreferring in the least to matrimony, and I only addressed myself to M.Cavalcanti because he appeared disposed to interfere between us. In onerespect you are right, for I am ready to quarrel with everyone today;but you have the first claim, M. Danglars.”
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“Sir,” replied Danglars, pale with anger and fear, “I warn you, when Ihave the misfortune to meet with a mad dog, I kill it; and far fromthinking myself guilty of a crime, I believe I do society a kindness.Now, if you are mad and try to bite me, I will kill you without pity. Isit my fault that your father has dishonored himself?”
“Yes, miserable wretch!” cried Morcerf, “it is your fault.”
Danglars retreated a few steps. “My fault?” said he; “you must be mad!What do I know of the Grecian affair? Have I travelled in that country?Did I advise your father to sell the castle of Yanina—to betray——”
“Silence!” said Albert, w
ith a thundering voice. “No; it is not you whohave directly made this exposure and brought this sorrow on us, but youhypocritically provoked it.”
“I?”
“Yes; you! How came it known?”
“I suppose you read it in the paper in the account from Yanina?”
“Who wrote to Yanina?”
“To Yanina?”
“Yes. Who wrote for particulars concerning my father?”
“I imagine anyone may write to Yanina.”
“But one person only wrote!”
“One only?”
“Yes; and that was you!”
“I, doubtless, wrote. It appears to me that when about to marry yourdaughter to a young man, it is right to make some inquiries respectinghis family; it is not only a right, but a duty.”
“You wrote, sir, knowing what answer you would receive.”
“I, indeed? I assure you,” cried Danglars, with a confidence andsecurity proceeding less from fear than from the interest he really feltfor the young man, “I solemnly declare to you, that I should never havethought of writing to Yanina, did I know anything of Ali Pasha’smisfortunes.”
“Who, then, urged you to write? Tell me.”
“Pardieu! it was the most simple thing in the world. I was speaking ofyour father’s past history. I said the origin of his fortune remainedobscure. The person to whom I addressed my scruples asked me where yourfather had acquired his property? I answered, ‘In Greece.’—‘Then,’ saidhe, ‘write to Yanina.’”
“And who thus advised you?”
“No other than your friend, Monte Cristo.”
“The Count of Monte Cristo told you to write to Yanina?”
“Yes; and I wrote, and will show you my correspondence, if you like.”
Albert and Beauchamp looked at each other.
“Sir,” said Beauchamp, who had not yet spoken, “you appear to accuse thecount, who is absent from Paris at this moment, and cannot justifyhimself.”
“I accuse no one, sir,” said Danglars; “I relate, and I will repeatbefore the count what I have said to you.”
“Does the count know what answer you received?”
“Yes; I showed it to him.”
“Did he know my father’s Christian name was Fernand, and his family nameMondego?”
“Yes, I had told him that long since, and I did only what any otherwould have done in my circumstances, and perhaps less. When, the dayafter the arrival of this answer, your father came by the advice ofMonte Cristo to ask my daughter’s hand for you, I decidedly refused him,but without any explanation or exposure. In short, why should I have anymore to do with the affair? How did the honor or disgrace of M. deMorcerf affect me? It neither increased nor decreased my income.”
Albert felt the blood mounting to his brow; there was no doubt upon thesubject. Danglars defended himself with the baseness, but at the sametime with the assurance, of a man who speaks the truth, at least inpart, if not wholly—not for conscience’ sake, but through fear. Besides,what was Morcerf seeking? It was not whether Danglars or Monte Cristowas more or less guilty; it was a man who would answer for the offence,whether trifling or serious; it was a man who would fight, and it wasevident Danglars would not fight.
In addition to this, everything forgotten or unperceived beforepresented itself now to his recollection. Monte Cristo knew everything,as he had bought the daughter of Ali Pasha; and, knowing everything, hehad advised Danglars to write to Yanina. The answer known, he hadyielded to Albert’s wish to be introduced to Haydée, and allowed theconversation to turn on the death of Ali, and had not opposed Haydée’srecital (but having, doubtless, warned the young girl, in the few Romaicwords he spoke to her, not to implicate Morcerf’s father). Besides, hadhe not begged of Morcerf not to mention his father’s name before Haydée?Lastly, he had taken Albert to Normandy when he knew the final blow wasnear. There could be no doubt that all had been calculated andpreviously arranged; Monte Cristo then was in league with his father’senemies. Albert took Beauchamp aside, and communicated these ideas tohim.
“You are right,” said the latter; “M. Danglars has only been a secondaryagent in this sad affair, and it is of M. de Monte Cristo that you mustdemand an explanation.”
Albert turned.
“Sir,” said he to Danglars, “understand that I do not take a final leaveof you; I must ascertain if your insinuations are just, and am going nowto inquire of the Count of Monte Cristo.”
He bowed to the banker, and went out with Beauchamp, without appearingto notice Cavalcanti. Danglars accompanied him to the door, where heagain assured Albert that no motive of personal hatred had influencedhim against the Count of Morcerf.
The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated Page 88