Stories to remember - Chapter 44

DANGLARS IN ROME

Baron danglars was alone. Nearly all his money had gone. There was no rich young man to marry his daughter. As a matter of fact, there was no daughter. When Andrea Cavalcanti was arrested, Madame Danglars and Eugenie decided they had had enough of the baron and they went away to live with friends. Now he was sitting alone in his office, looking at his accounts. Although he had lost all his own money, he still held money belonging to others because he was a banker. There were about five million francs in his safe, belonging to a hospital. The hospital would soon be drawing out all this money to build a big new building.

Danglars decided to steal the five million francs and flee to Italy. There, he would start a new life and, with the stolen money, he would build up another business for himself. He would soon be rich again, he thought.

A few days later, Danglars arrived in Italy. He travelled to Rome, and there he lodged in an hotel. He took a good room, ate a fine dinner and went to bed. He slept soundly, happy that he had plenty of money with him. Tomorrow, he would look around Rome and, the day after that, he would see about his new business.

The next day the sun was shining. It was a good day for sight-seeing. The baron ordered a carriage. When it came, he put all his stolen money in his wallet, slipped it into a pocket inside his overcoat and stepped outside where the carriage was waiting for him. He spent the morning riding around Rome.

Although he could speak no Italian, Danglars managed fairly well. The only Italian words he knew were some terms of music which he made to fit into everything he wanted to say to the coachman. When the carriage was going slowly uphill and he wanted it to go a little faster,  he would call out ' Allegro!' If it was going too fast down hill, he would cry ' Moderato! Moderato!' 

At midday he came back to the hotel, had another good meal, and went to sleep, carefully putting the wallet with the money in it under his pillow.

When he awoke, it was late in the afternoon. He dressed, put all his money in his pocket again, and went downstairs. At the door of his hotel, there was a guide who had seen him go out in the morning.

'Now that you have seen something of out city, your Excellency,' said the guide, 'you should see our famous ruins outside Rome.' Danglars, who had always been happy to be called 'Your Excellency' felt very flattered. He handed some coins to the man, who would have been quite ready to call him 'Your Highness' for a little more money.

'Yes, I think I'll see the ruins,' said Danglars, 'but first I must go to the bank. Is there a carriage?'

'Here is a coachman who will do anything you say, your Excellency. I can recommend him,' said the guide.

'Please step into my carriage, your Excellency,' said the coachman, who had been listening to what the guide was saying.

Danglars climbed into the carriage and told the man to drive to a bank. When they arrived there, he got out and went inside the bank, where he opened an account and left most of his money. The bank gave him a cheque book, so that he could draw out money when he wanted it.

Now Danglars was ready to go and see the ruins. The carriage drove away quickly. Soon, they had passed through the outskirts of Rome and were in the countryside. He noticed it was beginning to get dark. He must have slept at the hotel longer than he thought. He put his head out of the carriage window and asked the coachman how long it would take to reach the ruins.

'Non capisco,' said the coachman, who seemed now only able to speak Italian. After a while, the carriage stopped. It was getting very dark. Danglars thought he could see some ruins at the side of the road, so he opened the door to get out of the carriage. A strong hand pushed him back and the carriage began to move forward again. Danglars was quite surprised. 'Eh!' he said to the coachman, 'eh, mio caro?' This was another little piece of Italian Danglars had learned by listening to his daughter singing Italian duets with Andrea Cavalcanti.

'Eh, mio caro?' he repeated. But mio caro made no reply, so the baron looked carefully through the window. He saw a horseman galloping at the right hand side of the carriage. 'A policeman!' he exclaimed! 'Perhaps the French police have telegraphed to Italy, to have me arrested.' Danglars turned to the left. Another man on horseback was galloping on that side.

'Oh dear!' gasped Danglars, 'I am arrested. What will they do with me? Send me back to France?'

Stories to remember - Chapter 43

VILLEFORT'S DOWNFALL

When Andrea said this, there was an outcry from all sides.

'You are insulting this court by saying such a thing,' said the judge.

'I wouldn't dare to insult the court,' replied Andrea.

'I repeat, my father's name is Villefort and I am ready to prove it. On the night when I was born at No. 28, Rue de la Fontaine my father told my mother that I was dead. He then wrapped me in a cloth, and buried me in his garden. I can show you the piece of cloth to prove it. It is embroidered with the letters 'H and N'. Somebody, hiding in the garden, saw my father burying the bundle. He picked me up out of my grave, thinking that he had found some treasure. But when he unwrapped the bundle he found me inside and he saw that I was still living. He took me to his home in the south and he became a father to me. He tried to bring me up as a good boy, but it was no use. When I grew older I began to lie and steal and in the end I robbed him and ran away from his house.'

'Where are the proofs of all this?' said the judge.

Andrea laughed. 'If you want proofs,' he said, 'just look at Monsieur Villefort and then tell me whether you still need them.'

Everyone now looked at the State Prosecutor. His bowed head was in his hands. He dug his finger-nails into his hair.

'Father!' said Andrea. 'I am asked for proofs. Shall I give them?'

'No, no,' moaned Villefort, 'it is useless.'

'What is useless?' said the judge. 'What do you mean?'

'I mean that what he says is true,' whispered Villefort, staggering towards the door of the courtroom. He fled from the court as though he were running away from a nightmare.

'The trial is postponed,' said the judge. 'We shall look into the case again and there will be a new trial.'

Andrea was taken away by two policemen.

Villefort reached his home. He was soon followed there by the Count of Monte Cristo.

'Why have you come here in my hour of shame?' said Villefort.

'To ask you to pray to God to forgive you, as I forgive you now,' replied Monte Cristo.

'You forgive me?' said Villefort. 'I've never done you any harm.'

'Yes, you have,' said the Count. 'Think back for about twenty-three years. You condemned me to a horrible, slow death. You caused my father to die. You took life, love and happiness away from me.'

'This isn't true! Who are you?'

'I'm the ghost of the wretch you buried in the Chateau d'If. When, at last, I came out of those dungeons, God gave me the title of the Count of Monte Cristo and covered me with riches, so that you wouldn't recognise me until to-day.'

'Ah! Now I recognise you,' cried Villefort. 'You are....'

'Yes, I am Edmond Dante.'

With a shriek of terror, Villefort rushed from his house.

An hour later, when two policemen came to arrest him for having tried to kill his son, twenty-two years before, they found him wildly digging in the garden. He told them he was looking for his son.

They took him away to prison, to wait his trial. But there could be no trial for Villefort. He had gone mad. He was released from prison and spent the rest of his days in a home for the insane.

Stories to remember - Chapter 42

THE TRIAL

The Law Court in Paris was crowded with people who had come to hear the trial of Andrea Cavalcanti. Villefort, the State Prosecutor, was speaking. He told the jury about the early life of the prisoner; how he had become a criminal when still very young; how he had been put in prison; how he had later escaped from prison; how he had come to Paris pretending to be a rich Italian, and how, in the end, he had one night waylaid his former fellow prisoner, Caderousse, and stabbed him to death out side the home of the Count of Monte Cristo. All this took a very long time, and when Villefort had finished speaking, everyone in the court was sure that Andrea must be found guilty. Villefort himself was quite pleased. He thought he had made a very good case against Andrea and there would be no hope for him.

But Andrea did not seem to be worried. Nothing that Villefort said about him made him lower his eyes. He stared calmly at the State Prosecutor all the time. Villefort sat down when he had finished speaking, and the judge asked the accused to give his name.

'Excuse me, sir,' said Andrea. 'I would like to answer that a little later.'

The judge was astonished, and so was everyone else in the court.

'Your age,' he said. 'Will you at least answer that question?'

'I'll answer all the questions, sir,' replied Andrea. 'It's only that I wish to give my  name a little later.'

'Your age?' repeated the judge.

'I'm almost twenty-two years old. I was born on the night of September the 27th, 1817.'

Villefort, who was busy taking down some notes, looked up when he heard this date.

'Where were you born?' asked the judge.

'At Auteuil, just outside Paris.'

Again Villefort raised his head and stared at Andrea. Although it was twenty-two years ago, he still remembered vividly what happened at Auteuil on the night of the 27th of September, 1817. And now, his heart began to beat quickly. Was something going wrong? That night, over twenty years ago, the bundle he was burying had been taken away. The thief had never come back to accuse him of murder, or to demand money from him for keeping quiet about the dead child. Perhaps the child was not dead! He looked again at Andrea, who calmly pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket and gracefully wiped his lips with it. Now the judge spoke again.

'Your profession?' he said.

'First I was a forger,' answered Andrea. 'Then I became a thief and not long ago I became a murderer.'

Everyone gasped with surprise. Villefort put his hand to his forehead.

'And now,' said the judge, 'will you please tell us your name? I have the feeling that you have been keeping that back for some special reason.'

'I never had a real name,' said Andrea, 'but I know my father's name and I can give it to you.'

Villefort became more and more nervous. He moved his papers about, on the table, with trembling hands.

'Then give your father's name!' said the judge.

There was not a sound in the court. Everyone was listening.

'My father is the State Prosecutor,' said Andrea calmly.

'The State Prosecutor?' repeated the judge. He looked at Villefort and saw a look of agony on that man's face.

'Yes,' said Andrea,'and if you wish to know his name I will tell it to you. His name is Villefort.' 

Stories to remember - Chapter 41

ANDREA AND HIS FATHER

Andrea had been in prison for a few days when he was told that there was a visitor to see him.

Poor Andrea! He had been thinking abouthis sudden turn of bad luck and he had made up his mind that it wouldn't last much longer. 'After all,' he told himself, 'I am protected by some powerful person. Everything proves it--the sudden fortune I was given; all the noble and wealthy people I met; the splendid marriage I was about to enter into with the daughter of a wealthy banker--all these things show that someone is interested in me. Who is it? It must be the Count of Monte Cristo. Why is he interested in me? I think he must be my real father; the father whom I never knew in my childhood. Now someone has come here to talk to me. I am sure it will be to tell me that the Count is arranging my release from this prison.'

With these thoughts in mind, Andrea went along to the room where his visitor was waiting to see him.

His surprise could hardly have been greater when he faced a man whom he had not seen for about ten years. It was Bertuccio.

'Good morning, Benedetto,' said Bertuccio.

'You! You!' said the young man, looking about in alarm.

'Aren't you pleased to see me?'

'Why have you come here? Who sent you?'

'No one.'

'How did you know I was in prison?'

'I recognised you, some time ago, when you came to the house of the Count of Monte Cristo. I am the Count's steward.'

'Ah, so you've been sent here by the Count of Monte Cristo,' said Andrea, feeling at once happier. 'Let's talk about my father now.'

'But who am I then?' said Bertuccio.

'You are my adopted father,' replied Andrea, 'but I imagine it was not you who gave me a hundred thousand francs in the last few months. It wasn't you who introduced me to everyone in Paris. And you aren't going to pay the bail to get me out of this prison. It will be the Count of Monte Cristo; my real father.'

'Do not joke,' said Bertuccio, 'and don't dare again to say that the Count of Monte Cristo is your father. The Count is far too good and noble a man to be the father of a wretch like you.'

'These are fine words, but I don't believe you--'

'You will believe me when you hear what I am going to tell you.'

'I want to know who my real father is. I have a right to know,' said Andrea.

'You shall know,' replied Bertuccio. 'Listen--'

He told him the story of many years ago; of how he had followed Villefort to Auteuil, near Paris, with the intention of killing him; how he had stabbed him one night in his garden, and how he had taken away a small bundle, thinking it contained some treasure.

When Andrea heard what Bertuccio had found in the bundle, he knew the name of his real father. 

Stories to remember - Chapter 40

A WEDDING PARTY AGAIN

The home of Baron Danglars was brightly lighted and gaily decorated for the betrothal party of Andrea Cavalcanti and Eugenie Danglars. the baron had decided, now that he had lost nearly all his money, that Eugenie and Cavalcanti must marry as soon as possible. Then he would be able to borrow money from his son-in-law, whom he imagined to be a very rich man. With this money, he could try to get back some of the fortune he had lost.

Eugenie was at the party, wearing a simple white dress. She wore no jewellery; her only ornament was a white rose, half hidden in her black hair. Andrea was also there, smartly dressed and looking very pleased with himself. He didn't know of the large losses the baron had suffered on the stock exchange. If he had, he might not have looked so happy. The Count of Monte Cristo, and all Danglars' friends, except one, were there. The missing guest was Villefort. Someone asked why he had not come.

'Ah,' said Monte Cristo, 'I'm afraid it's my fault.'

'Your fault?' said Madame Danglars. 'What do you mean?'

Andrea pricked up his ears.

'Yes, it's my fault,' replied Monte Cristo, 'but I couldn't help it. Do you remember I had a burglar in my house some time ago? He was stabbed to death when running away. Just before he died, he signed a note saying that he had been stabbed by a man named Benedetto. But the police haven't been able to find this Benedetto anywhere.' Andrea was still listening, but he began to edge away a little. Now Danglars came closer.

'Are you talking about the burglar who was murdered outside your house, Count?' he said.

'Yes,' replied Monte Cristo, 'he was a man named Caderousse, who had been a prisoner.'

Danglars turned pale when he heard the name of the man he had known long ago in Marseilles.

'When the police examined his wounds,' said Monte Cristo, 'they threw his clothes into a corner. Afterwards they took away everything except a waistcoat which they didn't notice. This waistcoat was found only today in my house. One of my servants brought it to me. It was covered with blood, so I knew it must be the waistcoat of this Caderousse. There was a letter in one of the pockets. It was addressed to you, Baron Danglars.'

'To me!' said Danglars.

'Yes, indeed! I could just read your name under all the blood covering the letter.'

'Where is it? What did it say?' asked Danglars.

'I could see it had some connection with the murder, so I didn't read it, but handed it over to the police.'

Andrea Cavalcanti now began to move to the other side of the room.

'So you see,' went on Monte Cristo, 'that's why the State Prosecutor, Monsieur Villefort, couldn't come here today. He has been called by the police to look at the letter.'

Now Andrea had disappeared into another room.

A few seconds later, to everyone's surprise, a group of soldiers marched into the room and guards were placed at the doors, so that nobody could escape.

'What is this?' said Danglars. 'What are you doing here, in my house?'

'Which of you gentlemen is Andrea Cavalcanti?' said the officer in charge of the soldiers.

Everyone looked around the room. Andrea was not to be seen.

'Why do you want Andrea Cavalcanti?' asked Danglars.

'He is an escaped prisoner and he is wanted for the murder of a man named Caderousse.'

Madame Danglars fainted, and all the guests cried out in horror.

Danglars felt as though his world was falling to pieces. He had lost his money and now he was losing his rich son-in-law.

The soldiers could not find Andrea in the house, but he was caught by the guards outside, just as he was getting into his carriage. He was arrested and taken to prison.

 

Stories to remember - Chapter 39

THE TELEGRAPH

The Count of Monte Cristo was walking on a hillside, a few miles outside Paris. On the top of the hill there was a tower. It had big black arms sticking out from it on both sides and it looked very much like a large beetle. This was a telegraph tower.

A long line of such telegraph towers stretched right across the country. Each tower had a man in it, who could see the next tower in front of him and the next one behind him. If the tower in front signalled a message with its huge black arms, he had to pass on the same message to the tower behind him. In this way, news could be sent across the country very quickly.

Monte Cristo walked to the top of the hill until he came to the telegraph tower. It had a little garden around it. The telegraph man was there, picking strawberries.

'Good morning,' said Monte Cristo. 'Are you the telegraph man?'

'Yes,' replied the man.

'Don't you have to stay in the tower to look out for messages?'

'Oh, there'll be nothing coming through for the next five minutes. Would you like to come up there, sir, and see how it works?'

'That would be very interesting. I'd like to come,' said Monte Cristo.

The telegraph man led the way into the tower. On the ground floor there were only gardening implements, such as spades, rakes and watering-pots. On the next floor was the man's living room, with two chairs, a table, a bed and a stove, and on the top floor there was the telegraph room.

The man showed Monte Cristo the two iron handles which worked the telegraph.

'What are your wages for this job?' asked Monte Cristo.

'Three thousand francs a year.'

'And do you get a pension?'

'Yes, in fifteen years' time I shall retire and receive a small pension of a hundred crowns.'

'Poor man!' murmured Monte Cristo.

'What did you say, sir?' asked the man.

'I said it is very interesting. And do you understand all the signals?'

'Oh no, sir. I just pass on what I receive from the other man. I only understand a few signals.'

'But look!' said Monte Cristo. 'The man in front is signalling now. Do you understand it?'

'Yes, he's asking if I'm ready.'

'And how do you reply?'

'With a signal which says "yes" to the man in front and asks the man behind if he is ready.'

'It's very clever,' said the Count.

'You'll see,' said the man proudly. 'In two minutes he will signal a message to me which I shall have to pass on.'

'That gives me two minutes to do what I have to do,' said Monte Cristo to himself. Then, speaking aloud to the man, he said, 'What would happen if you should turn your head away when the other man is signalling to you?'

'I would miss the signal and wouldn't be able to pass it on.'

'And then what would happen?'

'They would fine me a hundred francs.'

'But suppose you were to alter the signal and send a wrong message?'

'Ah, that would be another thing. Then I should be discharged and I'd lose my pension. So you see, sir, I'm not likely to do anything like that.'

'Not even for fifteen years' wages? Fifteen thousand francs! That would be worth thinking about, wouldn't it?'

'You frighten me, sir.'

'Am I frightening you with fifteen thousand francs?'

'Please sir, let me see the telegraph tower in front. He's signalling to me now.'

'Don't look at him! Look at these little papers.'

'Bank notes!'

'Yes, there are fifteen of them. They are all yours if you like.'

'Oh sir, the man in front is signalling. You've taken my attention away. I'll be fined!' cried the man.

'That will cost you a hundred francs; so you see, you'd better take my bank notes.' The Count placed the notes in the man's hand. 'But this isn't all,' he said. 'You can't live on your fifteen thousand francs. Here are ten thousand more. That makes twenty five thousand altogether. You can buy a pretty little house, with two acres of land, for five thousand. The remaining twenty thousand will bring you in a thousand francs a year in interest.'

'A garden with two acres of land! Oh, heavens!'

'And a house and a thousand francs a year. Come, take them!' said Monte Cristo forcing the notes into the man's hand.

'What am I to do?'

Monte Cristo gave the man a piece of paper on which three signals were drawn. 'Just send these signals! There are only three of them, so it won't take long,' he said.

'Yes, but---'

'Do this and you'll have all you wish for.'

The telegraph man could resist no longer. He made the signals which the Count had written on the paper. When the man in front saw these signals he became very excited. He thought the telegraph man must have gone mad. But the man behind faithfully passed them on to the next telegraph tower, and so on until the wrong message reached Paris.

When the message reached Paris, it was passed on to the Minister of the Interior. The Minister was a friend of Baron Danglars. He immediately wrote a note to the baron, saying that if he had any Spanish bonds he should sell them quickly, because Don Carlos, the King of Spain, had escaped from prison in France and had returned to Spain. There was a revolution in Spain.

The baron had the largest part of his fortune, about six millions worth, invested in spanish bonds; for, as we know, he had made his fortune years ago in Spain. Now he rushed to the stock exchange to sell his bonds quickly before the price dropped. But he was too late. The news of the return of Don Carlos to Spain and a revolution in Barcelona had already reached the stock exchange. Danglars' bonds were worth almost nothing when he sold them. He had lost most of his fortune in less than an hour.

The next morning the newspapers said that it had been a false report about the king returning to Spain, and there was no revolution there. The price of the Spanish bonds went up to more than they had been before. If Danglars had only held on to his bonds, he would have made a big profit. Instead, he had lost nearly everything he had.

Dante was still taking his revenge!

Stories to remember - Chapter 38

THE SUICIDE

As he travelled home in his carriage, Monte Cristo thought of the courage of Mercedes. He had offered to sacrifice his own life so that her son should not die. Now she had saved the Count's life by telling Albert the dreadful family secret which must destroy all that young man's love for his father.

Not long after he arrived home, there was a knock at his door. A servant said that the Count Morcerf was there.

'Show him in!' said Monte Cristo.

When Morcerf entered, Monte Cristo exclaimed, 'Well, it really is the Count Morcerf. I thought my servant must have made a mistaken when he said it was you.'

'Yes, it is I,' replied Morcerf. 'I've just heard that, instead of fighting you, my son apologised to you this morning.'

'That is right.'

'If he will not fight you for my honour, I shall have to do it myself. Don't you agree?'

'Certainly,' replied Monte Cristo, 'and I am ready at any time.'

'Let's go now then; we don't need anyone else, do we?'

'Oh no! After all, we know one another so well.'

'Just the opposite!' replied Morcerf. 'We know almost nothing about each other.'

'Ha!' said Monte Cristo. 'Let me see! Aren't you the soldier Fernand who ran away at the battle of Waterloo? Aren't you the Lieutenant Fernand who, with his friend Danglars, stole money from the French Army in Spain? Aren't you the Captain Fernand who betrayed and murdered his master Ali Tebelin? And aren't all these Fernands now called Lieutenant-General the Count Morcerf?'

Morcerf shrank away, as if branded by a hot iron.

'Wretch!' he said. 'Who are you, that you know so much about me? Tell me your real name!'

'I will, if you'll wait here a minute,' replied Monte Cristo. He disappeared into another room, where he quickly took off his tie, his coat and his waistcoat. In a few seconds, he put on a sailor's jacket and hat and returned to the room where Morcerf was standing.

'Now you must recognise me,' said Monte Cristo. 'Surely you have thought about me many times after your marriage with Mercedes; the girl I should have married.'

Morcerf leaned against the wall, gasping with fear and amazement.

'Edmond Dante!' he almost choked. He began to move away from the Count of Monte Cristo, then turned and ran outside. He fell into his carriage and told the coachman to drive home. He could hardly believe what he had just seen.

Still shocked, he staggered out of his carriage when he arrived home and opened the front door. As he did so, he heard two people coming down the stairs, so he hid behind a curtain. He did not want them to see him.

Mercedes and Albert were leaving the house. Morcerf, behind the curtain, heard Albert say to his mother as they passed him, 'Come, mother, this is no longer our home. We'll go away and never come back here.'

Now Morcerf had lost everything. When his wife and son had left the house, he went upstairs to his bedroom. After a few minutes, a loud bang was heard. The servants rushed into his room and they found the Count Morcerf lying dead on his bed, a smoking pistol in his hand.

Later, when Monte Cristo was told that Morcerf had shot himself, he said mysteriously to himself, 'Number two!' 

Stories to remember - Chapter 37

THE MEETING

Mercedes begged Monte Cristo to spare Albert's life.

'I know you've suffered,' she said, 'but, Edmond, I too have suffered.'

'You haven't suffered for your father dying of hunger. You haven't seen the one you loved giving her hand to your rival while you rotted in a prison cell,' said Monte Cristo.

'No,' she said 'but I've seen him whom I loved on the point of murdering my son.'

She said this so sadly that Monte Cristo, at last, gave in.

'Very well,' he said, 'I forgive your son. I won't kill him tomorrow. He'll kill me instead.'

Mercedes started, and looked at Monte Cristo in surprise.

'But no!' she said. 'If you forgive him, there won't be a duel.'

'Of course there will,' said Monte Cristo. 'He has challenged me, and if I'm not there tomorrow at eight o'clock, I'll be disgraced before the world. No, Mercedes, there will be a duel, but I'll aim my pistol so as not to hit him. Instead of your son's blood staining the ground, it will be mine.'

'Oh no, Edmond, I trust in God as I trust you. Do I have your word that you will spare Albert tomorrow morning?'

Monte Cristo nodded. 'You have my promise.'

'Thank you, Edmond!' said Mercedes. 'I see you're still as noble as I always knew you to be and I have faith also that God will not allow you to be killed tomorrow. Thank you again, and goodbye!'

When she had gone, Monte Cristo turned to a mirror and looked at his reflection. 'What a fool I was!' he said. 'What a fool not to have torn my heart out on the day I vowed to revenge myself!'

The next morning, at eight o'clock, a little group of people waited under the trees in the Forest of Vincennes. It was the time appointed for the duel. Monte Cristo and his friends were there, Albert's friends were there, but Albert himself had not yet arrived. What had happened to him?

At five minutes past eight, Albert arrived at last. He jumped quickly out of his carriage. 'I wish to say something to the Count of Monte Cristo,' he said.

He turned to the people around him. 'You may all listen, for this is something which is concerns you all.'

Then he stood face to face with the Count.

'Sir,' he said in a voice full of emotion. 'I said that you had no right to punish my father. I have now learnt that you do have that right---not to revenge yourself on the Count of Morcerf for his betrayal of Ali Pacha, but for his treachery to you many years ago. I know now the suffering and misery which you endured as a result of his treachery. I say now that you had a right to take revenge, not on the Count of Morcerf but on Fernand Mondego; and I, his son, thank you for not making your revenge even greater.'

 

Stories to remember - Chapter 36

EDMOND AND MERCEDES

When Albert had gone, Monte Cristo sat in his room for some time, deep in thought. Then he called to Ali.

'Bring me my special pistols in the ivory case, Ali,' he said.

Ali brought the box to his master. Monte Cristo looked carefully at them. They were pistols which he had had made specially for practice shooting indoors. He took one in his hand and aimed it at a small target on the wall. Monte Cristo was an expert shot, second to none, but tomorrow morning his life would depend on how well he could shoot. It would still be a good thing to have a little practice now.

Just as he was about to shoot, a servant came into the room to say that there was a visitor. Behind the servant, outside the door, stood a veiled woman. She saw Monte Cristo holding the pistol in his hand, and she rushed into the room. The Count made a sign for the servant to go.

'Who are you, madame?' said Monte Cristo.

The woman fell to her knees before the Count.

'Edmond, you will not kill my son!'

Monte Cristo stepped back in surprise.

'Madame Morcerf, what name did you use just now?'

'Your name,' she cried, throwing off her veil. 'The name which I, alone, have not forgotten. Edmond, it is not Madame Morcerf who has come to you now; it is Mercedes.'

'Mercedes is dead, madame,' said Monte Cristo. 'I know of no one, now, of that name.'

'Mercedes is alive, Edmond, and only she remembers you. She knew it was you as soon as she saw you. She has been watching you all the time you have been in Paris. She knows why the Count Morcerf has been disgraced.'

'You should say Fernand, madame,' replied Monte Cristo. 'If we are remembering names, let us remember them all.'

'Ah, you see, I am not mistaken. That is why I am asking you to spare my son.'

'It is your son who has challenged me, madame; not the other way around.'

'Because he sees in you the cause of his father's misfortunes.'

'Madame, you are mistaken. They are not misfortunes. They are a punishment. I am not striking your husband; it is God who is punishing him.'

'Do you think you represent God?' cried Mercedes. Why do you remember what everyone else has forgotten? What does it matter to you what happened in Janina? Fernand Mondego did you no harm then.'

'You are right, madame. That is no concern of mine. That is a matter between the French officer and Haydee, the daughter of Ali Tebelin. But I am not revenging myself on Colonel Fernand Mondego, nor on Fernand the Count Morcerf, but on Fernand of Marseilles, the husband of Mercedes.'

'Then it is me you should punish, not my husband. It's my fault that I wasn't brave enough to wait alone for you when you were away.'

'But why was I away and why were you alone?'

'Because you had been arrested, Edmond, and were a prisoner.'

'And why was I arrested? Why was I a prisoner?'

'I don't know,' said Mercedes.

'You do not, madame; at least, I hope not. But I will tell you.'

The Count went to a desk. He unlocked it and took an old letter from a drawer. It was the same letter which Monte Cristo, when he was disguised as Lord Wilmore, had taken from the prison register on the day he visited the Inspector of Prisons in Marseilles.

'The reason I was arrested and made a prisoner, was because a man named Danglars wrote this letter, and Fernand himself posted it,' he said.

Mercedes, trembling took the letter. It was yellow with age, but she could still read it :

The state prosecutor is informed that Edmond Dante, mate of the ship Pharaon, which arrived at Marseilles this morning after having touched the island of Elba, has been given a letter from Napoleon addressed to the Bonapartist committee in Paris. If he is arrested, this letter will be found either on him or at his father's house, or in his cabin on the Pharaon.

She looked at Monte Cristo. 'And because of this letter you were arrested?' she said.

'Yes, madame,' replied the Count, 'and for fourteen years I remained in a cell in the Chateau d'If. You didn't know that, did you? You also didn't know that, every day of those fourteen years, I vowed to take my revenge. When I came out of the prison, I found that you had married Fernand, and that my father had died of hunger.'

'And now you are taking your revenge,' whispered Mercedes.

'Yes,' said Monte Cristo. 'I am taking my revenge.' 

Stories to remember - Chapter 35

THE CHALLENGE

The marriage engagement between Eugenie Danglars and Albert Morcerf was broken off when the Count Morcerf was disgraced.

Soon afterwards, Andrea Cavalcanti asked permission to marry Eugenie. Baron Danglars, very pleased, readily agreed. He thought Cavalcanti would be a very suitable husband for his daughter, and so Eugenie and Andrea became engaged to be married.

Albert Morcerf knew that some enemy must have caused his father's disgrace. Who could it be? He resolved to go to the newspaper offices to  find out who had sent the report from Janina. When he found out that it had been sent in by Danglars, he decided that the Baron was his father's enemy. Like all young Frenchmen of his day, Albert Morcerf thought that the only way to wipe out a dishonour was to challenge to a duel the person who had caused the dishonour. So he set out for Baron Danglars' house.

Danglars thought, at first, that Albert had come to speak about his broken engagement to Eugenie. He was very surprised to be challenged to a duel.

'You are mad,' said Danglars. 'It is not my fault that your father is disgraced.'

'It is your fault,' replied Albert. 'You are the cause of it.'

'How?'

'Where did the news come from?'

'The newspapers told you; from Janina!'

'But who wrote to Janina?'

'I wrote, certainly. When my daughter is about to marry a young man, I think I have the right to find out everything about his parents.'

'You must have written knowing what answer you would receive.'

'I certainly did not. I would never have thought of writing to Janina if the Count of Monte Cristo had not suggested it. I was asking him how I could find out information about your father. He asked me where your father got his fortune. I told him, in Janina. "Then write to Janina!" he said.'

'Aha!' said Albert. 'So he advised you to write to Janina, did he?'

Haydee was living in Monte Cristo's house, therefore Monte Cristo himself must already have known the full story when he advised Danglars to write to Janina. He must have known all about it even when he invited Albert to hear Haydee's story, that day when they had drunk coffee together. What treachery! Monte Cristo must be his father's real enemy!

Albert rushed away from Danglars' house. He found Monte Cristo at home.

'Good afternoon, Albert,' said Monte Cristo. 'I hope you are well!'

'I've not come here to exchange false words of politeness and friendship,' replied Albert. 'I've come to demand an explanation.'

'An explanation!' said the Count. 'I think I should first have one from you.'

'There is no need for me to explain to you that you are my father's enemy, that you have caused his disgrace, and I want to know why, or I shall kill you.'

'I see you've come here to quarrel with me,' said the Count, 'but I don't understand why. I only know that you are shouting at me in my own home. Please let me tell you that I am the only person who has the right to raise his voice above another's in this house. So you had better leave immediately.'

'Ah! I know how to make you leave your home,' said Albert angrily, pulling his glove off his hand and throwing it at the Count.

'So you are challenging me to a duel,' said Monte Cristo, with icy calm. 'You shall have your glove returned to you around a bullet, tomorrow morning at eight o'clock, in the Forest of Vincennes. Now leave this house at once, or I will call my servants to throw you out.'