The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated

by Alexandre Dumas

  Chapter 106. Dividing the Proceeds

  The apartment on the first floor of the house in the Rue Saint-Germain-des-Prés, where Albert de Morcerf had selected a home for his mother,was let to a very mysterious person. This was a man whose face theconcierge himself had never seen, for in the winter his chin was buriedin one of the large red handkerchiefs worn by gentlemen’s coachmen on acold night, and in the summer he made a point of always blowing his nosejust as he approached the door. Contrary to custom, this gentleman hadnot been watched, for as the report ran that he was a person of highrank, and one who would allow no impertinent interference, his incognitowas strictly respected.

  His visits were tolerably regular, though occasionally he appeared alittle before or after his time, but generally, both in summer andwinter, he took possession of his apartment about four o’clock, thoughhe never spent the night there. At half-past three in the winter thefire was lighted by the discreet servant, who had the superintendence ofthe little apartment, and in the summer ices were placed on the table atthe same hour. At four o’clock, as we have already stated, themysterious personage arrived.

  Twenty minutes afterwards a carriage stopped at the house, a ladyalighted in a black or dark blue dress, and always thickly veiled; shepassed like a shadow through the lodge, and ran upstairs without a soundescaping under the touch of her light foot. No one ever asked her whereshe was going. Her face, therefore, like that of the gentleman, wasperfectly unknown to the two concierges, who were perhaps unequalledthroughout the capital for discretion. We need not say she stopped atthe first floor. Then she tapped in a peculiar manner at a door, whichafter being opened to admit her was again fastened, and curiositypenetrated no farther. They used the same precautions in leaving as inentering the house. The lady always left first, and as soon as she hadstepped into her carriage, it drove away, sometimes towards the righthand, sometimes to the left; then about twenty minutes afterwards thegentleman would also leave, buried in his cravat or concealed by hishandkerchief.

  The day after Monte Cristo had called upon Danglars, the mysteriouslodger entered at ten o’clock in the morning instead of four in theafternoon. Almost directly afterwards, without the usual interval oftime, a cab arrived, and the veiled lady ran hastily upstairs. The dooropened, but before it could be closed, the lady exclaimed:

  “Oh, Lucien—oh, my friend!”

  The concierge therefore heard for the first time that the lodger’s namewas Lucien; still, as he was the very perfection of a door-keeper, hemade up his mind not to tell his wife.

  “Well, what is the matter, my dear?” asked the gentleman whose name thelady’s agitation revealed; “tell me what is the matter.”

  “Oh, Lucien, can I confide in you?”

  “Of course, you know you can do so. But what can be the matter? Yournote of this morning has completely bewildered me. Thisprecipitation—this unusual appointment. Come, ease me of my anxiety, orelse frighten me at once.”

  “Lucien, a great event has happened!” said the lady, glancinginquiringly at Lucien,—“M. Danglars left last night!”

  “Left?—M. Danglars left? Where has he gone?”

  “I do not know.”

  “What do you mean? Has he gone intending not to return?”

  “Undoubtedly;—at ten o’clock at night his horses took him to the barrierof Charenton; there a post-chaise was waiting for him—he entered it withhis valet de chambre, saying that he was going to Fontainebleau.”

  “Then what did you mean——”

  “Stay—he left a letter for me.”

  “A letter?”

  “Yes; read it.”

  And the baroness took from her pocket a letter which she gave to Debray.Debray paused a moment before reading, as if trying to guess itscontents, or perhaps while making up his mind how to act, whatever itmight contain. No doubt his ideas were arranged in a few minutes, for hebegan reading the letter which caused so much uneasiness in the heart ofthe baroness, and which ran as follows:

  “‘Madame and most faithful wife.’”

  Debray mechanically stopped and looked at the baroness, whose facebecame covered with blushes.

  “Read,” she said.

  Debray continued:

  “‘When you receive this, you will no longer have a husband. Oh, you neednot be alarmed, you will only have lost him as you have lost yourdaughter; I mean that I shall be travelling on one of the thirty orforty roads leading out of France. I owe you some explanations for myconduct, and as you are a woman that can perfectly understand me, I willgive them. Listen, then. I received this morning five millions which Ipaid away; almost directly afterwards another demand for the same sumwas presented to me; I put this creditor off till tomorrow and I intendleaving today, to escape that tomorrow, which would be rather toounpleasant for me to endure. You understand this, do you not, my mostprecious wife? I say you understand this, because you are as conversantwith my affairs as I am; indeed, I think you understand them better,since I am ignorant of what has become of a considerable portion of myfortune, once very tolerable, while I am sure, madame, that you knowperfectly well. For women have infallible instincts; they can evenexplain the marvellous by an algebraic calculation they have invented;but I, who only understand my own figures, know nothing more than thatone day these figures deceived me. Have you admired the rapidity of myfall? Have you been slightly dazzled at the sudden fusion of my ingots?I confess I have seen nothing but the fire; let us hope you have foundsome gold among the ashes. With this consoling idea, I leave you,madame, and most prudent wife, without any conscientious reproach forabandoning you; you have friends left, and the ashes I have alreadymentioned, and above all the liberty I hasten to restore to you. Andhere, madame, I must add another word of explanation. So long as I hopedyou were working for the good of our house and for the fortune of ourdaughter, I philosophically closed my eyes; but as you have transformedthat house into a vast ruin I will not be the foundation of anotherman’s fortune. You were rich when I married you, but little respected.Excuse me for speaking so very candidly, but as this is intended onlyfor ourselves, I do not see why I should weigh my words. I haveaugmented our fortune, and it has continued to increase during the lastfifteen years, till extraordinary and unexpected catastrophes havesuddenly overturned it,—without any fault of mine, I can honestlydeclare. You, madame, have only sought to increase your own, and I amconvinced that you have succeeded. I leave you, therefore, as I tookyou,—rich, but little respected. Adieu! I also intend from this time towork on my own account. Accept my acknowledgments for the example youhave set me, and which I intend following.

  “‘Your very devoted husband,

  “‘Baron Danglars.’”

  The baroness had watched Debray while he read this long and painfulletter, and saw him, notwithstanding his self-control, change color onceor twice. When he had ended the perusal, he folded the letter andresumed his pensive attitude.

  “Well?” asked Madame Danglars, with an anxiety easy to be understood.

  “Well, madame?” unhesitatingly repeated Debray.

  “With what ideas does that letter inspire you?”

  “Oh, it is simple enough, madame; it inspires me with the idea that M.Danglars has left suspiciously.”

  “Certainly; but is this all you have to say to me?”

  “I do not understand you,” said Debray with freezing coldness.

  “He is gone! Gone, never to return!”

  “Oh, madame, do not think that!”

  “I tell you he will never return. I know his character; he is inflexiblein any resolutions formed for his own interests. If he could have madeany use of me, he would have taken me with him; he leaves me in Paris,as our separation will conduce to his benefit;—therefore he has gone,and I am free forever,” added Madame Danglars, in the same supplicatingtone.

  Debray, instead of answering, allowed her to remain in an attitude ofnervous inquiry.

  “Well?” she said at length, “do you not answer me?”

&
nbsp; “I have but one question to ask you,—what do you intend to do?”

  “I was going to ask you,” replied the baroness with a beating heart.

  “Ah, then, you wish to ask advice of me?”

  “Yes; I do wish to ask your advice,” said Madame Danglars with anxiousexpectation.

  “Then if you wish to take my advice,” said the young man coldly, “Iwould recommend you to travel.”

  “To travel!” she murmured.

  “Certainly; as M. Danglars says, you are rich, and perfectly free. In myopinion, a withdrawal from Paris is absolutely necessary after thedouble catastrophe of Mademoiselle Danglars’ broken contract and M.Danglars’ disappearance. The world will think you abandoned and poor,for the wife of a bankrupt would never be forgiven, were she to keep upan appearance of opulence. You have only to remain in Paris for about afortnight, telling the world you are abandoned, and relating the detailsof this desertion to your best friends, who will soon spread the report.Then you can quit your house, leaving your jewels and giving up yourjointure, and everyone’s mouth will be filled with praises of yourdisinterestedness. They will know you are deserted, and think you alsopoor, for I alone know your real financial position, and am quite readyto give up my accounts as an honest partner.”

  The dread with which the pale and motionless baroness listened to this,was equalled by the calm indifference with which Debray had spoken.

  “Deserted?” she repeated; “ah, yes, I am, indeed, deserted! You areright, sir, and no one can doubt my position.”

  These were the only words that this proud and violently enamoured womancould utter in response to Debray.

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  “But then you are rich,—very rich, indeed,” continued Debray, taking outsome papers from his pocket-book, which he spread upon the table. MadameDanglars did not see them; she was engaged in stilling the beatings ofher heart, and restraining the tears which were ready to gush forth. Atlength a sense of dignity prevailed, and if she did not entirely masterher agitation, she at least succeeded in preventing the fall of a singletear.

  “Madame,” said Debray, “it is nearly six months since we have beenassociated. You furnished a principal of 100,000 francs. Our partnershipbegan in the month of April. In May we commenced operations, and in thecourse of the month gained 450,000 francs. In June the profit amountedto 900,000. In July we added 1,700,000 francs,—it was, you know, themonth of the Spanish bonds. In August we lost 300,000 francs at thebeginning of the month, but on the 13th we made up for it, and we nowfind that our accounts, reckoning from the first day of partnership upto yesterday, when I closed them, showed a capital of 2,400,000 francs,that is, 1,200,000 for each of us. Now, madame,” said Debray, deliveringup his accounts in the methodical manner of a stockbroker, “there arestill 80,000 francs, the interest of this money, in my hands.”

  “But,” said the baroness, “I thought you never put the money out tointerest.”

  “Excuse me, madame,” said Debray coldly, “I had your permission to doso, and I have made use of it. There are, then, 40,000 francs for yourshare, besides the 100,000 you furnished me to begin with, making in all1,340,000 francs for your portion. Now, madame, I took the precaution ofdrawing out your money the day before yesterday; it is not long ago, yousee, and I was in continual expectation of being called on to deliver upmy accounts. There is your money,—half in bank-notes, the other half inchecks payable to bearer. I say there, for as I did not consider myhouse safe enough, or lawyers sufficiently discreet, and as landedproperty carries evidence with it, and moreover since you have no rightto possess anything independent of your husband, I have kept this sum,now your whole fortune, in a chest concealed under that closet, and forgreater security I myself concealed it there.

  “Now, madame,” continued Debray, first opening the closet, then thechest;—“now, madame, here are 800 notes of 1,000 francs each,resembling, as you see, a large book bound in iron; to this I add acertificate in the funds of 25,000 francs; then, for the odd cash,making I think about 110,000 francs, here is a check upon my banker,who, not being M. Danglars, will pay you the amount, you may restassured.”

  Madame Danglars mechanically took the check, the bond, and the heap ofbank-notes. This enormous fortune made no great appearance on the table.Madame Danglars, with tearless eyes, but with her breast heaving withconcealed emotion, placed the bank-notes in her bag, put the certificateand check into her pocket-book, and then, standing pale and mute,awaited one kind word of consolation.

  But she waited in vain.

  “Now, madame,” said Debray, “you have a splendid fortune, an income ofabout 60,000 livres a year, which is enormous for a woman who cannotkeep an establishment here for a year, at least. You will be able toindulge all your fancies; besides, should you find your incomeinsufficient, you can, for the sake of the past, madame, make use ofmine; and I am ready to offer you all I possess, on loan.”

  “Thank you, sir—thank you,” replied the baroness; “you forget that whatyou have just paid me is much more than a poor woman requires, whointends for some time, at least, to retire from the world.”

  Debray was, for a moment, surprised, but immediately recovering himself,he bowed with an air which seemed to say, “As you please, madame.”

  Madame Danglars had until then, perhaps, hoped for something; but whenshe saw the careless bow of Debray, and the glance by which it wasaccompanied, together with his significant silence, she raised her head,and without passion or violence or even hesitation, ran downstairs,disdaining to address a last farewell to one who could thus part fromher.

  “Bah,” said Debray, when she had left, “these are fine projects! Shewill remain at home, read novels, and speculate at cards, since she canno longer do so on the Bourse.”

  Then taking up his account book, he cancelled with the greatest care allthe entries of the amounts he had just paid away.

  “I have 1,060,000 francs remaining,” he said. “What a pity Mademoisellede Villefort is dead! She suited me in every respect, and I would havemarried her.”

  And he calmly waited until the twenty minutes had elapsed after MadameDanglars’ departure before he left the house. During this time heoccupied himself in making figures, with his watch by his side.

  Asmodeus—that diabolical personage, who would have been created by everyfertile imagination if Le Sage had not acquired the priority in hisgreat masterpiece—would have enjoyed a singular spectacle, if he hadlifted up the roof of the little house in the Rue Saint-Germain-des-Prés, while Debray was casting up his figures.

  Above the room in which Debray had been dividing two millions and a halfwith Madame Danglars was another, inhabited by persons who have playedtoo prominent a part in the incidents we have related for theirappearance not to create some interest.

  Mercédès and Albert were in that room.

  Mercédès was much changed within the last few days; not that even in herdays of fortune she had ever dressed with the magnificent display whichmakes us no longer able to recognize a woman when she appears in a plainand simple attire; nor indeed, had she fallen into that state ofdepression where it is impossible to conceal the garb of misery; no, thechange in Mercédès was that her eye no longer sparkled, her lips nolonger smiled, and there was now a hesitation in uttering the wordswhich formerly sprang so fluently from her ready wit.

  It was not poverty which had broken her spirit; it was not a want ofcourage which rendered her poverty burdensome. Mercédès, althoughdeposed from the exalted position she had occupied, lost in the sphereshe had now chosen, like a person passing from a room splendidly lightedinto utter darkness, appeared like a queen, fallen from her palace to ahovel, and who, reduced to strict necessity, could neither becomereconciled to the earthen vessels she was herself forced to place uponthe table, nor to the humble pallet which had become her bed.

  The beautiful Catalane and noble countess had lost both her proud glanceand charming smile, because she saw nothing but misery around her; thewalls were hung with one of
the gray papers which economical landlordschoose as not likely to show the dirt; the floor was uncarpeted; thefurniture attracted the attention to the poor attempt at luxury; indeed,everything offended eyes accustomed to refinement and elegance.

  Madame de Morcerf had lived there since leaving her house; the continualsilence of the spot oppressed her; still, seeing that Albert continuallywatched her countenance to judge the state of her feelings, sheconstrained herself to assume a monotonous smile of the lips alone,which, contrasted with the sweet and beaming expression that usuallyshone from her eyes, seemed like “moonlight on a statue,”—yielding lightwithout warmth.

  Albert, too, was ill at ease; the remains of luxury prevented him fromsinking into his actual position. If he wished to go out without gloves,his hands appeared too white; if he wished to walk through the town, hisboots seemed too highly polished. Yet these two noble and intelligentcreatures, united by the indissoluble ties of maternal and filial love,had succeeded in tacitly understanding one another, and economizingtheir stores, and Albert had been able to tell his mother withoutextorting a change of countenance:

  “Mother, we have no more money.”

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  Mercédès had never known misery; she had often, in her youth, spoken ofpoverty, but between want and necessity, those synonymous words, thereis a wide difference.

  Amongst the Catalans, Mercédès wished for a thousand things, but stillshe never really wanted any. So long as the nets were good, they caughtfish; and so long as they sold their fish, they were able to buy twinefor new nets. And then, shut out from friendship, having but oneaffection, which could not be mixed up with her ordinary pursuits, shethought of herself—of no one but herself. Upon the little she earned shelived as well as she could; now there were two to be supported, andnothing to live upon.

  Winter approached. Mercédès had no fire in that cold and naked room—she,who was accustomed to stoves which heated the house from the hall to theboudoir; she had not even one little flower—she whose apartment had beena conservatory of costly exotics. But she had her son. Hitherto theexcitement of fulfilling a duty had sustained them. Excitement, likeenthusiasm, sometimes renders us unconscious to the things of earth. Butthe excitement had calmed down, and they felt themselves obliged todescend from dreams to reality; after having exhausted the ideal, theyfound they must talk of the actual.

  “Mother,” exclaimed Albert, just as Madame Danglars was descending thestairs, “let us reckon our riches, if you please; I want capital tobuild my plans upon.”

  “Capital—nothing!” replied Mercédès with a mournful smile.

  “No, mother,—capital 3,000 francs. And I have an idea of our leading adelightful life upon this 3,000 francs.”

  “Child!” sighed Mercédès.

  “Alas, dear mother,” said the young man, “I have unhappily spent toomuch of your money not to know the value of it. These 3,000 francs areenormous, and I intend building upon this foundation a miraculouscertainty for the future.”

  “You say this, my dear boy; but do you think we ought to accept these3,000 francs?” said Mercédès, coloring.

  “I think so,” answered Albert in a firm tone. “We will accept them themore readily, since we have them not here; you know they are buried inthe garden of the little house in the Allées de Meilhan, at Marseilles.With 200 francs we can reach Marseilles.”

  “With 200 francs?—are you sure, Albert?”

  “Oh, as for that, I have made inquiries respecting the diligences andsteamboats, and my calculations are made. You will take your place inthe coupé to Châlons. You see, mother, I treat you handsomely forthirty-five francs.”

  Albert then took a pen, and wrote:

  Frs. Coupé, thirty-five francs.............................. 35. FromChâlons to Lyons you will go on by the steamboat.. 6. From Lyons toAvignon (still by steamboat)............. 16. From Avignon toMarseilles, seven francs............... 7. Expenses on the road, aboutfifty francs............... 50.Total................................................. 114 frs. “Let usput down 120,” added Albert, smiling. “You see I am generous, am I not,mother?”

  “But you, my poor child?”

  “I? do you not see that I reserve eighty francs for myself? A young mandoes not require luxuries; besides, I know what travelling is.”

  “With a post-chaise and valet de chambre?”

  “Any way, mother.”

  “Well, be it so. But these 200 francs?”

  “Here they are, and 200 more besides. See, I have sold my watch for 100francs, and the guard and seals for 300. How fortunate that theornaments were worth more than the watch. Still the same story ofsuperfluities! Now I think we are rich, since instead of the 114 francswe require for the journey we find ourselves in possession of 250.”

  “But we owe something in this house?”

  “Thirty francs; but I pay that out of my 150 francs,—that isunderstood,—and as I require only eighty francs for my journey, you seeI am overwhelmed with luxury. But that is not all. What do you say tothis, mother?”

  And Albert took out of a little pocket-book with golden clasps, aremnant of his old fancies, or perhaps a tender souvenir from one of themysterious and veiled ladies who used to knock at his littledoor,—Albert took out of this pocket-book a note of 1,000 francs.

  “What is this?” asked Mercédès.

  “A thousand francs.”

  “But whence have you obtained them?”

  “Listen to me, mother, and do not yield too much to agitation.” AndAlbert, rising, kissed his mother on both cheeks, then stood looking ather. “You cannot imagine, mother, how beautiful I think you!” said theyoung man, impressed with a profound feeling of filial love. “You are,indeed, the most beautiful and most noble woman I ever saw!”

  “Dear child!” said Mercédès, endeavoring in vain to restrain a tearwhich glistened in the corner of her eye. “Indeed, you only wantedmisfortune to change my love for you to admiration. I am not unhappywhile I possess my son!”

  “Ah, just so,” said Albert; “here begins the trial. Do you know thedecision we have come to, mother?”

  “Have we come to any?”

  “Yes; it is decided that you are to live at Marseilles, and that I am toleave for Africa, where I will earn for myself the right to use the nameI now bear, instead of the one I have thrown aside.” Mercédès sighed.“Well, mother, I yesterday engaged myself as substitute in theSpahis,”25 added the young man, lowering his eyes with a certain feelingof shame, for even he was unconscious of the sublimity of his self-abasement. “I thought my body was my own, and that I might sell it. Iyesterday took the place of another. I sold myself for more than Ithought I was worth,” he added, attempting to smile; “I fetched 2,000francs.”

  “Then these 1,000 francs——” said Mercédès, shuddering.

  “Are the half of the sum, mother; the other will be paid in a year.”

  Mercédès raised her eyes to heaven with an expression it would beimpossible to describe, and tears, which had hitherto been restrained,now yielded to her emotion, and ran down her cheeks.

  “The price of his blood!” she murmured.

  “Yes, if I am killed,” said Albert, laughing. “But I assure you, mother,I have a strong intention of defending my person, and I never felt halfso strong an inclination to live as I do now.”

  “Merciful Heavens!”

  “Besides, mother, why should you make up your mind that I am to bekilled? Has Lamoricière, that Ney of the South, been killed? HasChangarnier been killed? Has Bedeau been killed? Has Morrel, whom weknow, been killed? Think of your joy, mother, when you see me returnwith an embroidered uniform! I declare, I expect to look magnificent init, and chose that regiment only from vanity.”

  Mercédès sighed while endeavoring to smile; the devoted mother felt thatshe ought not to allow the whole weight of the sacrifice to fall uponher son.

  “Well, now you understand, mother!” continued Albert; “here are morethan 4,000 francs settled on yo
u; upon these you can live at least twoyears.”

  “Do you think so?” said Mercédès.

  These words were uttered inso mournful a tone that their real meaningdid not escape Albert; he felt his heart beat, and taking his mother’shand within his own he said, tenderly:

  “Yes, you will live!”

  “I shall live!—then you will not leave me, Albert?”

  “Mother, I must go,” said Albert in a firm, calm voice; “you love me toowell to wish me to remain useless and idle with you; besides, I havesigned.”

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  “You will obey your own wish and the will of Heaven!”

  “Not my own wish, mother, but reason—necessity. Are we not twodespairing creatures? What is life to you?—Nothing. What is life tome?—Very little without you, mother; for believe me, but for you Ishould have ceased to live on the day I doubted my father and renouncedhis name. Well, I will live, if you promise me still to hope; and if yougrant me the care of your future prospects, you will redouble mystrength. Then I will go to the governor of Algeria; he has a royalheart, and is essentially a soldier; I will tell him my gloomy story. Iwill beg him to turn his eyes now and then towards me, and if he keephis word and interest himself for me, in six months I shall be anofficer, or dead. If I am an officer, your fortune is certain, for Ishall have money enough for both, and, moreover, a name we shall both beproud of, since it will be our own. If I am killed—well then mother, youcan also die, and there will be an end of our misfortunes.”

  “It is well,” replied Mercédès, with her eloquent glance; “you areright, my love; let us prove to those who are watching our actions thatwe are worthy of compassion.”

  “But let us not yield to gloomy apprehensions,” said the young man; “Iassure you we are, or rather we shall be, very happy. You are a woman atonce full of spirit and resignation; I have become simple in my tastes,and am without passion, I hope. Once in service, I shall be rich—once inM. Dantès’ house, you will be at rest. Let us strive, I beseech you,—letus strive to be cheerful.”

  “Yes, let us strive, for you ought to live, and to be happy, Albert.”

  “And so our division is made, mother,” said the young man, affectingease of mind. “We can now part; come, I shall engage your passage.”

  “And you, my dear boy?”

  “I shall stay here for a few days longer; we must accustom ourselves toparting. I want recommendations and some information relative to Africa.I will join you again at Marseilles.”

  “Well, be it so—let us part,” said Mercédès, folding around hershoulders the only shawl she had taken away, and which accidentallyhappened to be a valuable black cashmere. Albert gathered up his papershastily, rang the bell to pay the thirty francs he owed to the landlord,and offering his arm to his mother, they descended the stairs.

  Someone was walking down before them, and this person, hearing therustling of a silk dress, turned around. “Debray!” muttered Albert.

  “You, Morcerf?” replied the secretary, resting on the stairs. Curiosityhad vanquished the desire of preserving his incognito, and he wasrecognized. It was, indeed, strange in this unknown spot to find theyoung man whose misfortunes had made so much noise in Paris.

  “Morcerf!” repeated Debray. Then noticing in the dim light the stillyouthful and veiled figure of Madame de Morcerf:

  “Pardon me,” he added with a smile, “I leave you, Albert.” Albertunderstood his thoughts.

  “Mother,” he said, turning towards Mercédès, “this is M. Debray,secretary of the Minister for the Interior, once a friend of mine.”

  “How once?” stammered Debray; “what do you mean?”

  “I say so, M. Debray, because I have no friends now, and I ought not tohave any. I thank you for having recognized me, sir.” Debray steppedforward, and cordially pressed the hand of his interlocutor.

  “Believe me, dear Albert,” he said, with all the emotion he was capableof feeling,—“believe me, I feel deeply for your misfortunes, and if inany way I can serve you, I am yours.”

  “Thank you, sir,” said Albert, smiling. “In the midst of ourmisfortunes, we are still rich enough not to require assistance fromanyone. We are leaving Paris, and when our journey is paid, we shallhave 5,000 francs left.”

  The blood mounted to the temples of Debray, who held a million in hispocket-book, and unimaginative as he was he could not help reflectingthat the same house had contained two women, one of whom, justlydishonored, had left it poor with 1,500,000 francs under her cloak,while the other, unjustly stricken, but sublime in her misfortune, wasyet rich with a few deniers. This parallel disturbed his usualpoliteness, the philosophy he witnessed appalled him, he muttered a fewwords of general civility and ran downstairs.

  That day the minister’s clerks and the subordinates had a great deal toput up with from his ill-humor. But that same night, he found himselfthe possessor of a fine house, situated on the Boulevard de laMadeleine, and an income of 50,000 livres.

  The next day, just as Debray was signing the deed, that is about fiveo’clock in the afternoon, Madame de Morcerf, after having affectionatelyembraced her son, entered the coupé of the diligence, which closed uponher.

  A man was hidden in Lafitte’s banking-house, behind one of the littlearched windows which are placed above each desk; he saw Mercédès enterthe diligence, and he also saw Albert withdraw. Then he passed his handacross his forehead, which was clouded with doubt.

  “Alas,” he exclaimed, “how can I restore the happiness I have taken awayfrom these poor innocent creatures? God help me!”