Chapter 90 The Meeting
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AFTER
MERCижDииS had left Monte Cristo, he fell
into profound gloom. Around him and within him the flight of thought
seemed to have stopped; his energetic mind slumbered, as the body does
after extreme fatigue. "What?" said he to himself, while the
lamp and the wax lights were nearly burnt out, and the servants were
waiting impatiently in the anteroom; "what? this edifice which I have
been so long preparing, which I have reared with so much care and toil, is
to be crushed by a single touch, a word, a breath! Yes, this self, of whom
I thought so much, of whom I was so proud, who had appeared so worthless
in the dungeons of the Chateau d'If, and whom I had succeeded in making so
great, will be but a lump of clay to-morrow. Alas, it is not the death of
the body I regret; for is not the destruction of the vital principle, the
repose to which everything is tending, to which every unhappy being
aspires,--is not this the repose of matter after which I so long sighed,
and which I was seeking to attain by the painful process of starvation
when Faria appeared in my dungeon? What is death for me? One step farther
into rest,--two, perhaps, into silence. "No,
it is not existence, then, that I regret, but the ruin of projects so
slowly carried out, so laboriously framed. Providence is now opposed to
them, when I most thought it would be propitious. It is not God's will
that they should be accomplished. This burden, almost as heavy as a world,
which I had raised, and I had thought to bear to the end, was too great
for my strength, and I was compelled to lay it down in the middle of my
career. Oh, shall I then, again become a fatalist, whom fourteen years of
despair and ten of hope had rendered a believer in providence? And all
this--all this, because my heart, which I thought dead, was only sleeping;
because it has awakened and has begun to beat again, because I have
yielded to the pain of the emotion excited in my breast by a woman's
voice. Yet," continued the count, becoming each moment more absorbed
in the anticipation of the dreadful sacrifice for the morrow, which Mercижdииs had accepted, "yet, it is
impossible that so noble-minded a woman should thus through selfishness
consent to my death when I am in the prime of life and strength; it is
impossible that she can carry to such a point maternal love, or rather
delirium. There are virtues which become crimes by exaggeration. No, she
must have conceived some pathetic scene; she will come and throw herself
between us; and what would be sublime here will there appear
ridiculous." The blush of pride mounted to the count's forehead as
this thought passed through his mind. "Ridiculous?" repeated he;
"and the ridicule will fall on me. I ridiculous? No, I would rather
die." By
thus exaggerating to his own mind the anticipated ill-fortune of the next
day, to which he had condemned himself by promising Mercижdииs
to spare her son, the count at last exclaimed, "Folly, folly,
folly!--to carry generosity so far as to put myself up as a mark for that
young man to aim at. He will never believe that my death was suicide; and
yet it is important for the honor of my memory,--and this surely is not
vanity, but a justifiable pride,--it is important the world should know
that I have consented, by my free will, to stop my arm, already raised to
strike, and that with the arm which has been so powerful against others I
have struck myself. It must be; it shall be." Seizing
a pen, he drew a paper from a secret drawer in his desk, and wrote at the
bottom of the document (which was no other than his will, made since his
arrival in Paris) a sort of codicil, clearly explaining the nature of his
death. "I do this, O my God," said he, with his eyes raised to
heaven, "as much for thy honor as for mine. I have during ten years
considered myself the agent of thy vengeance, and other wretches, like
Morcerf, Danglars, Villefort, even Morcerf himself, must not imagine that
chance has freed them from their enemy. Let them know, on the contrary,
that their punishment, which had been decreed by providence, is only
delayed by my present determination, and although they escape it in this
world, it awaits them in another, and that they are only exchanging time
for eternity." While
he was thus agitated by gloomy uncertainties,--wretched waking dreams of
grief,--the first rays of morning pierced his windows, and shone upon the
pale blue paper on which he had just inscribed his justification of
providence. It was just five o'clock in the morning when a slight noise
like a stifled sigh reached his ear. He turned his head, looked around
him, and saw no one; but the sound was repeated distinctly enough to
convince him of its reality. He
arose, and quietly opening the door of the drawing-room, saw Haidижe, who had fallen on a chair,
with her arms hanging down and her beautiful head thrown back. She had
been standing at the door, to prevent his going out without seeing her,
until sleep, which the young cannot resist, had overpowered her frame,
wearied as she was with watching. The noise of the door did not awaken
her, and Monte Cristo gazed at her with affectionate regret. "She
remembered that she had a son," said he; "and I forgot I had a
daughter." Then, shaking his head sorrowfully, "Poor Haidижe,"
said he; "she wished to see me, to speak to me; she has feared or
guessed something. Oh, I cannot go without taking leave of her; I cannot
die without confiding her to some one." He quietly regained his seat,
and wrote under the other lines:-- "I
bequeath to Maximilian Morrel, captain of Spahis,--and son of my former
patron, Pierre Morrel, shipowner at Marseilles,--the sum of twenty
millions, a part of which may be offered to his sister Julia and
brother-in-law Emmanuel, if he does not fear this increase of fortune may
mar their happiness. These twenty millions are concealed in my grotto at
Monte Cristo, of which Bertuccio knows the secret. If his heart is free,
and he will marry Haidижe, the daughter of Ali Pasha of
Yanina, whom I have brought up with the love of a father, and who has
shown the love and tenderness of a daughter for me, he will thus
accomplish my last wish. This will has already constituted Haidижe heiress of the rest of my fortune, consisting of
lands, funds in England, Austria, and Holland, furniture in my different
palaces and houses, and which without the twenty millions and the legacies
to my servants, may still amount to sixty millions." He
was finishing the last line when a cry behind him made him start, and the
pen fell from his hand. "Haidижe,"
said he. "did you read it?" "Oh,
my lord," said she, "why are you writing thus at such an hour?
Why are you bequeathing all your fortune to me? Are you going to leave
me?" "I
am going on a journey, dear child," said Monte Cristo, with an
expression of infinite tenderness and melancholy; "and if any
misfortune should happen to me" The
count stopped. "Well?" asked the young girl, with an
authoritative tone the count had never observed before, and which startled
him. "Well, if any misfortune happen to me," replied Monte
Cristo, "I wish my daughter to be happy." Haidижe smiled sorrowfully, and shook her head. "Do
you think of dying, my lord?" said she. "The
wise man, my child, has said, 'It is good to think of death.'" "Well,
if you die," said she, "bequeath your fortune to others, for if
you die I shall require nothing;" and, taking the paper, she tore it
in four pieces, and threw it into the middle of the room. Then, the effort
having exhausted her strength, she fell not asleep this time, but fainting
on the floor. The count leaned over her and raised her in his arms; and
seeing that sweet pale face, those lovely eyes closed, that beautiful form
motionless and to all appearance lifeless, the idea occurred to him for
the first time, that perhaps she loved him otherwise than as a daughter
loves a father. "Alas,"
murmured he, with intense suffering, "I might, then, have been happy
yet." Then he carried Haidижe
to her room, resigned her to the care of her attendants, and returning to
his study, which he shut quickly this time, he again copied the destroyed
will. As he was finishing, the sound of a cabriolet entering the yard was
heard. Monte Cristo approached the window, and saw Maximilian and Emmanuel
alight. "Good," said he; "it was time,"--and he sealed
his will with three seals. A moment afterwards he heard a noise in the
drawing-room, and went to open the door himself. Morrel was there; he had
come twenty minutes before the time appointed. "I am perhaps come too
soon, count," said he, "but I frankly acknowledge that I have
not closed my eyes all night, nor has any one in my house. I need to see
you strong in your courageous assurance, to recover myself." Monte
Cristo could not resist this proof of affection; he not only extended his
hand to the young man, but flew to him with open arms. "Morrel,"
said he, "it is a happy day for me, to feel that I am beloved by such
a man as you. Good-morning, Emmanuel; you will come with me then,
Maximilian?" "Did
you doubt it?" said the young captain. "But
if I were wrong"-- "I
watched you during the whole scene of that challenge yesterday; I have
been thinking of your firmness all night, and I said to myself that
justice must be on your side, or man's countenance is no longer to be
relied on." "But,
Morrel, Albert is your friend?" "Simply
an acquaintance, sir." "You
met on the same day you first saw me?" "Yes,
that is true; but I should not have recollected it if you had not reminded
me." "Thank
you, Morrel." Then ringing the bell once, "Look." said he
to Ali, who came immediately, "take that to my solicitor. It is my
will, Morrel. When I am dead, you will go and examine it." "What?"
said Morrel, "you dead?" "Yes;
must I not be prepared for everything, dear friend? But what did you do
yesterday after you left me?" "I
went to Tortoni's, where, as I expected, I found Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud.
I own I was seeking them." "Why,
when all was arranged?" "Listen,
count; the affair is serious and unavoidable." "Did
you doubt it!" "No;
the offence was public, and every one is already talking of it." "Well?"
"Well,
I hoped to get an exchange of arms,--to substitute the sword for the
pistol; the pistol is blind." "Have
you succeeded?" asked Monte Cristo quickly, with an imperceptible
gleam of hope. "No;
for your skill with the sword is so well known." "Ah?--who
has betrayed me?" "The
skilful swordsman whom you have conquered." "And
you failed?" "They
positively refused." "Morrel,"
said the count, "have you ever seen me fire a pistol?" "Never."
"Well,
we have time; look." Monte Cristo took the pistols he held in his
hand when Mercижdииs entered, and fixing an ace of
clubs against the iron plate, with four shots he successively shot off the
four sides of the club. At each shot Morrel turned pale. He examined the
bullets with which Monte Cristo performed this dexterous feat, and saw
that they were no larger than buckshot. "It is astonishing,"
said he. "Look, Emmanuel." Then turning towards Monte Cristo,
"Count," said he, "in the name of all that is dear to you,
I entreat you not to kill Albert!--the unhappy youth has a mother." "You
are right," said Monte Cristo; "and I have none." These
words were uttered in a tone which made Morrel shudder. "You are the
offended party, count." "Doubtless;
what does that imply?" "That
you will fire first." "I
fire first?" "Oh,
I obtained, or rather claimed that; we had conceded enough for them to
yield us that." "And
at what distance?" "Twenty
paces." A smile of terrible import passed over the count's lips.
"Morrel," said he, "do not forget what you have just
seen." "The
only chance for Albert's safety, then, will arise from your emotion."
"I
suffer from emotion?" said Monte Cristo. "Or
from your generosity, my friend; to so good a marksman as you are, I may
say what would appear absurd to another." "What
is that?" "Break
his arm--wound him--but do not kill him." "I
will tell you, Morrel," said the count, "that I do not need
entreating to spare the life of M. de Morcerf; he shall be so well spared,
that he will return quietly with his two friends, while I"-- "And
you?" "That
will be another thing; I shall be brought home." "No,
no," cried Maximilian, quite unable to restrain his feelings. "As
I told you, my dear Morrel, M. de Morcerf will kill me." Morrel
looked at him in utter amazement. "But what has happened, then, since
last evening, count?" "The
same thing that happened to Brutus the night before the battle of
Philippi; I have seen a ghost." "And
that ghost"-- "Told
me, Morrel, that I had lived long enough." Maximilian and Emmanuel
looked at each other. Monte Cristo drew out his watch. "Let us
go," said he; "it is five minutes past seven, and the
appointment was for eight o'clock." A carriage was in readiness at
the door. Monte Cristo stepped into it with his two friends. He had
stopped a moment in the passage to listen at a door, and Maximilian and
Emmanuel, who had considerately passed forward a few steps, thought they
heard him answer by a sigh to a sob from within. As the clock struck eight
they drove up to the place of meeting. "We are first," said
Morrel, looking out of the window. "Excuse me, sir," said
Baptistin, who had followed his master with indescribable terror,
"but I think I see a carriage down there under the trees." Monte
Cristo sprang lightly from the carriage, and offered his hand to assist
Emmanuel and Maximilian. The latter retained the count's hand between his.
"I like," said he, "to feel a hand like this, when its
owner relies on the goodness of his cause." "It
seems to me," said Emmanuel, "that I see two young men down
there, who are evidently, waiting." Monte Cristo drew Morrel a step
or two behind his brother-in-law. "Maximilian," said he,
"are your affections disengaged?" Morrel looked at Monte Cristo
with astonishment. "I do not seek your confidence, my dear friend. I
only ask you a simple question; answer it;--that is all I require." "I
love a young girl, count." "Do
you love her much?" "More
than my life." "Another
hope defeated!" said the count. Then, with a sigh, "Poor Haidижe!" murmured he. "To
tell the truth, count, if I knew less of you, I should think that you were
less brave than you are." "Because
I sigh when thinking of some one I am leaving? Come, Morrel, it is not
like a soldier to be so bad a judge of courage. Do I regret life? What is
it to me, who have passed twenty years between life and death? Moreover,
do not alarm yourself, Morrel; this weakness, if it is such, is betrayed
to you alone. I know the world is a drawing-room, from which we must
retire politely and honestly; that is, with a bow, and our debts of honor
paid." "That
is to the purpose. Have you brought your arms?" "I?--what
for? I hope these gentlemen have theirs." "I
will inquire," said Morrel. "Do;
but make no treaty--you understand me?" "You
need not fear." Morrel advanced towards Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud,
who, seeing his intention, came to meet him. The three young men bowed to
each other courteously, if not affably. "Excuse
me, gentlemen," said Morrel, "but I do not see M. de Morcerf."
"He
sent us word this morning," replied Chateau-Renaud, "that he
would meet us on the ground." "Ah,"
said Morrel. Beauchamp pulled out his watch. "It is only five minutes
past eight," said he to Morrel; "there is not much time lost
yet." "Oh,
I made no allusion of that kind," replied Morrel. "There
is a carriage coming," said Chateau-Renaud. It advanced rapidly along
one of the avenues leading towards the open space where they were
assembled. "You are doubtless provided with pistols, gentlemen? M. de
Monte Cristo yields his right of using his." "We
had anticipated this kindness on the part of the count," said
Beauchamp, "and I have brought some weapons which I bought eight or
ten days since, thinking to want them on a similar occasion. They are
quite new, and have not yet been used. Will you examine them." "Oh,
M. Beauchamp, if you assure me that M. de Morcerf does not know these
pistols, you may readily believe that your word will be quite
sufficient." "Gentlemen,"
said Chateau-Renaud, "it is not Morcerf coming in that
carriage;--faith, it is Franz and Debray!" The two young men he
announced were indeed approaching. "What chance brings you here,
gentlemen?" said Chateau-Renaud, shaking hands with each of them.
"Because," said Debray, "Albert sent this morning to
request us to come." Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud exchanged looks of
astonishment. "I think I understand his reason," said Morrel. "What
is it?" "Yesterday
afternoon I received a letter from M. de Morcerf, begging me to attend the
opera." "And
I," said Debray. "And
I also," said Franz. "And
we, too," added Beauchamp and Chateau-Renaud. "Having
wished you all to witness the challenge, he now wishes you to be present
at the combat." "Exactly
so," said the young men; "you have probably guessed right."
"But,
after all these arrangements, he does not come himself," said
Chateau-Renaud. "Albert is ten minutes after time." "There
he comes," said Beauchamp, "on horseback, at full gallop,
followed by a servant." "How
imprudent," said Chateau-Renaud, "to come on horseback to fight
a duel with pistols, after all the instructions I had given him."
"And besides," said Beauchamp, "with a collar above his
cravat, an open coat and white waistcoat! Why has he not painted a spot
upon his heart?--it would have been more simple." Meanwhile Albert
had arrived within ten paces of the group formed by the five young men. He
jumped from his horse, threw the bridle on his servant's arms, and joined
them. He was pale, and his eyes were red and swollen; it was evident that
he had not slept. A shade of melancholy gravity overspread his
countenance, which was not natural to him. "I thank you,
gentlemen," said he, "for having complied with my request; I
feel extremely grateful for this mark of friendship." Morrel had
stepped back as Morcerf approached, and remained at a short distance.
"And to you also, M. Morrel, my thanks are due. Come, there cannot be
too many." "Sir,"
said Maximilian, "you are not perhaps aware that I am M. de Monte
Cristo's friend?" "I
was not sure, but I thought it might be so. So much the better; the more
honorable men there are here the better I shall be satisfied." "M.
Morrel," said Chateau-Renaud, "will you apprise the Count of
Monte Cristo that M. de Morcerf is arrived, and we are at his
disposal?" Morrel was preparing to fulfil his commission. Beauchamp
had meanwhile drawn the box of pistols from the carriage. "Stop,
gentlemen," said Albert; "I have two words to say to the Count
of Monte Cristo." "In
private?" asked Morrel. "No,
sir; before all who are here." Albert's
witnesses looked at each other. Franz and Debray exchanged some words in a
whisper, and Morrel, rejoiced at this unexpected incident, went to fetch
the count, who was walking in a retired path with Emmanuel. "What
does he want with me?" said Monte Cristo. "I
do not know, but he wishes to speak to you." "Ah?"
said Monte Cristo, "I trust he is not going to tempt me by some fresh
insult!" "I
do not think that such is his intention," said Morrel. The
count advanced, accompanied by Maximilian and Emmanuel. His calm and
serene look formed a singular contrast to Albert's grief-stricken face,
who approached also, followed by the other four young men. When at three
paces distant from each other, Albert and the count stopped. "Approach,
gentlemen," said Albert; "I wish you not to lose one word of
what I am about to have the honor of saying to the Count of Monte Cristo,
for it must be repeated by you to all who will listen to it, strange as it
may appear to you." "Proceed,
sir," said the count. "Sir,"
said Albert, at first with a tremulous voice, but which gradually because
firmer, "I reproached you with exposing the conduct of M. de Morcerf
in Epirus, for guilty as I knew he was, I thought you had no right to
punish him; but I have since learned that you had that right. It is not
Fernand Mondego's treachery towards Ali Pasha which induces me so readily
to excuse you, but the treachery of the fisherman Fernand towards you, and
the almost unheard-of miseries which were its consequences; and I say, and
proclaim it publicly, that you were justified in revenging yourself on my
father, and I, his son, thank you for not using greater severity." Had
a thunderbolt fallen in the midst of the spectators of this unexpected
scene, it would not have surprised them more than did Albert's
declaration. As for Monte Cristo, his eyes slowly rose towards heaven with
an expression of infinite gratitude. He could not understand how Albert's
fiery nature, of which he had seen so much among the Roman bandits, had
suddenly stooped to this humiliation. He recognized the influence of Mercижdииs,
and saw why her noble heart had not opposed the sacrifice she knew
beforehand would be useless. "Now, sir," said Albert, "if
you think my apology sufficient, pray give me your hand. Next to the merit
of infallibility which you appear to possess, I rank that of candidly
acknowledging a fault. But this confession concerns me only. I acted well
as a man, but you have acted better than man. An angel alone could have
saved one of us from death--that angel came from heaven, if not to make us
friends (which, alas, fatality renders impossible), at least to make us
esteem each other." Monte
Cristo, with moistened eye, heaving breast, and lips half open, extended
to Albert a hand which the latter pressed with a sentiment resembling
respectful fear. "Gentlemen," said he, "M. de Monte Cristo
receives my apology. I had acted hastily towards him. Hasty actions are
generally bad ones. Now my fault is repaired. I hope the world will not
call me cowardly for acting as my conscience dictated. But if any one
should entertain a false opinion of me," added he, drawing himself up
as if he would challenge both friends and enemies, "I shall endeavor
to correct his mistake." "What
happened during the night?" asked Beauchamp of Chateau-Renaud;
"we appear to make a very sorry figure here." "In
truth, what Albert has just done is either very despicable or very
noble," replied the baron. "What
can it mean?" said Debray to Franz. "The Count of Monte Cristo
acts dishonorably to M. de Morcerf, and is justified by his son! Had I ten
Yaninas in my family, I should only consider myself the more bound to
fight ten times." As for Monte Cristo, his head was bent down, his
arms were powerless. Bowing under the weight of twenty-four years'
reminiscences, he thought not of Albert, of Beauchamp, of Chateau-Renaud,
or of any of that group; but he thought of that courageous woman who had
come to plead for her son's life, to whom he had offered his, and who had
now saved it by the revelation of a dreadful family secret, capable of
destroying forever in that young man's heart every feeling of filial
piety. "Providence
still," murmured he; "now only am I fully convinced of being the
emissary of God!" |
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