Stories to remember - Chapter 45

ROMAN BANDITS

Danglars sat back in the carriage and thought for a while. Suddenly, as he looked at the countryside, he realised that he was not being taken back to Rome. They were approaching some caves.

'Good heavens!' he said to himself. 'I have another idea. What if they should be......?'

His hair stood on end. He remembered those interesting stories, that no one had believed in Paris, about the bandits of Rome who had captured young Albert Morcerf.

'Perhaps they are robbers,' he muttered.

Just then, the man riding on the right-hand side said something and the carriage stopped. At the same time, the door on the left-hand side was opened.

'Scendi!' said a voice. Danglars quickly descended. Although he did not yet speak Italian, he already seemed to understand it quite well.

The men now led him into the caves, and along many underground passages. The baron did not doubt it any longer. He was in the hands of bandits. After some time the narrow passage opened out into a big cave. A sentinel stopped them at the entrance, but let them pass through when he saw who they were.

Danglars was taken to the chief of the bandits, who was sitting down in the cave, reading a book.

'Is this the man?' asked the bandit chief.

'Yes, captain,' said one of the men who had brought Danglars.

'Let me see him!'

At this order, one of the guards, who was carrying a blazing torch, raised it to Danglars' face, so that his chief might see him better. Danglars jumped back hastily, to avoid having his eyebrows burned. He looked terrified as the light of the torch shone upon him.

'He looks tired,' said the bandit chief. 'Take him to his bed!'

'Oh!oh!' thought Danglars. 'They are going to kill me. My 'bed' will be a grave, I am sure.'

He was taken away, along some more narrow passages, and up some steep steps. Then, a low door opened in front of him. Bending his head, he went into a small room cut out of the rock. He was very surprised to see that he was not going to be killed yet, for there was a bed, made of leaves and goatskins, in the corner and he could lie down on it. The small door was closed and a bolt grated. Danglars was a prisoner.

He remembered again the story that he had heard from Albert Morcerf, after his adventures in Rome, and he was sure that these were the same bandits. Albert's description of the bandit chief exactly described the man he had seen sitting in the big cave, reading a book.

Danglars felt happier. They were not going to kill him. He remembered that they had asked to be paid something like four thousand piastres to set Albert free. Even if they wanted twice that amount this time, eight thousand piastres was forty-eight thousand francs and he had about five million francs in the bank. With all that money he could certainly manage to free himself. Feeling much better, he lay down on the rough bed and went to sleep. 

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!