Chapter 69 The Inquiry
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M.
DE VILLEFORT kept the promise he had made to Madame Danglars, to endeavor
to find out how the Count of Monte Cristo had discovered the history of
the house at Auteuil. He wrote the same day for the required information
to M. de Boville, who, from having been an inspector of prisons, was
promoted to a high office in the police; and the latter begged for two
days time to ascertain exactly who would be most likely to give him full
particulars. At the end of the second day M. de Villefort received the
following note:-- "The
person called the Count of Monte Cristo is an intimate acquaintance of
Lord Wilmore, a rich foreigner, who is sometimes seen in Paris and who is
there at this moment; he is also known to the Abbиж Busoni, a Sicilian priest, of high repute in the
East, where he has done much good." M.
de Villefort replied by ordering the strictest inquiries to be made
respecting these two persons; his orders were executed, and the following
evening he received these details:-- "The
abbиж,
who was in Paris only for a month, inhabited a small two-storied house
behind Saint-Sulpice; there were two rooms on each floor and he was the
only tenant. The two lower rooms consisted of a dining-room, with a table,
chairs, and side-board of walnut,--and a wainscoted parlor, without
ornaments, carpet, or timepiece. It was evident that the abbиж limited himself to objects of strict necessity. He
preferred to use the sitting-room upstairs, which was more library than
parlor, and was furnished with theological books and parchments, in which
he delighted to bury himself for months at a time, according to his valet
de chambre. His valet looked at the visitors through a sort of wicket; and
if their faces were unknown to him or displeased him, he replied that the
abbиж was not in Paris, an answer
which satisfied most persons, because the abbиж was known to be a great traveller. Besides, whether
at home or not, whether in Paris or Cairo, the abbиж always left something to give
away, which the valet distributed through this wicket in his master's
name. The other room near the library was a bedroom. A bed without
curtains, four arm-chairs, and a couch, covered with yellow Utrecht
velvet, composed, with a prie-Dieu, all its furniture. Lord Wilmore
resided in Rue Fontaine-Saint-George. He was one of those English tourists
who consume a large fortune in travelling. He hired the apartment in which
he lived furnished, passed only a few hours in the day there, and rarely
slept there. One of his peculiarities was never to speak a word of French,
which he however wrote with great facility." The
day after this important information had been given to the king's
attorney, a man alighted from a carriage at the corner of the Rue Fижrou, and rapping at an
olive-green door, asked if the Abbиж Busoni were within. "No, he went out early
this morning," replied the valet. "I
might not always be content with that answer," replied the visitor,
"for I come from one to whom everyone must be at home. But have the
kindness to give the Abbиж
Busoni"-- "I
told you he was not at home," repeated the valet. "Then on his
return give him that card and this sealed paper. Will he be at home at
eight o'clock this evening?" "Doubtless,
unless he is at work, which is the same as if he were out." "I
will come again at that time," replied the visitor, who then retired.
At
the appointed hour the same man returned in the same carriage, which,
instead of stopping this time at the end of the Rue Fижrou, drove up to the green door. He knocked, and it
opened immediately to admit him. From the signs of respect the valet paid
him, he saw that his note had produced a good effect. "Is the abbиж at home?" asked he. "Yes;
he is at work in his library, but he expects you, sir," replied the
valet. The stranger ascended a rough staircase, and before a table,
illumined by a lamp whose light was concentrated by a large shade while
the rest of the apartment was in partial darkness, he perceived the abbиж in a monk's dress, with a cowl
on his head such as was used by learned men of the Middle Ages. "Have
I the honor of addressing the Abbиж
Busoni?" asked the visitor. "Yes,
sir," replied the abbиж;
"and you are the person whom M. de Boville, formerly an inspector of
prisons, sends to me from the prefect of police?" "Exactly,
sir." "One
of the agents appointed to secure the safety of Paris?" "Yes,
sir"" replied the stranger with a slight hesitation, and
blushing. The
abbиж replaced the large spectacles,
which covered not only his eyes but his temples, and sitting down motioned
to his visitor to do the same. "I am at your service, sir," said
the abbиж, with a marked Italian accent. "The
mission with which I am charged, sir," replied the visitor, speaking
with hesitation, "is a confidential one on the part of him who
fulfils it, and him by whom he is employed." The abbиж bowed. "Your probity," replied the
stranger, "is so well known to the prefect that he wishes as a
magistrate to ascertain from you some particulars connected with the
public safety, to ascertain which I am deputed to see you. It is hoped
that no ties of friendship or humane consideration will induce you to
conceal the truth." "Provided,
sir, the particulars you wish for do not interfere with my scruples or my
conscience. I am a priest, sir, and the secrets of confession, for
instance, must remain between me and God, and not between me and human
justice." "Do
not alarm yourself, monsieur, we will duly respect your conscience." At
this moment the abbиж
pressed down his side of the shade and so raised it on the other, throwing
a bright light on the stranger's face, while his own remained obscured.
"Excuse me, abbиж,"
said the envoy of the prefect of the police, "but the light tries my
eyes very much." The abbиж
lowered the shade. "Now, sir, I am listening--go on." "I
will come at once to the point. Do you know the Count of Monte Cristo?"
"You
mean Monsieur Zaccone, I presume?" "Zaccone?--is
not his name Monte Cristo?" "Monte
Cristo is the name of an estate, or, rather, of a rock, and not a family
name." "Well,
be it so--let us not dispute about words; and since M. de Monte Cristo and
M. Zaccone are the same"-- "Absolutely
the same." "Let
us speak of M. Zaccone." "Agreed."
"I
asked you if you knew him?" "Extremely
well." "Who
is he?" "The
son of a rich shipbuilder in Malta." "I
know that is the report; but, as you are aware, the police does not
content itself with vague reports." "However,"
replied the abbиж,
with an affable smile, "when that report is in accordance with the
truth, everybody must believe it, the police as well as all the
rest." "Are
you sure of what you assert?" "What
do you mean by that question?" "Understand,
sir, I do not in the least suspect your veracity; I ask if you are certain
of it?" "I
knew his father, M. Zaccone." "Ah,
indeed?" "And
when a child I often played with the son in the timber-yards." "But
whence does he derive the title of count?" "You
are aware that may be bought." "In
Italy?" "Everywhere."
"And
his immense riches, whence does he procure them?" "They
may not be so very great." "How
much do you suppose he possesses?" "From
one hundred and fifty to two hundred thousand livres per annum." "That
is reasonable," said the visitor; "I have heard he had three or
four millions." "Two
hundred thousand per annum would make four millions of capital." "But
I was told he had four millions per annum?" "That
is not probable." "Do
you know this Island of Monte Cristo?" "Certainly,
every one who has come from Palermo, Naples, or Rome to France by sea must
know it, since he has passed close to it and must have seen it." "I
am told it is a delightful place?" "It
is a rock." "And
why has the count bought a rock?" "For
the sake of being a count. In Italy one must have territorial possessions
to be a count." "You
have, doubtless, heard the adventures of M. Zaccone's youth?" "The
father's?" "No,
the son's." "I
know nothing certain; at that period of his life, I lost sight of my young
comrade." "Was
he in the wars?" "I
think he entered the service." "In
what branch?" "In
the navy." "Are
you not his confessor?" "No,
sir; I believe he is a Lutheran." "A
Lutheran?" "I
say, I believe such is the case, I do not affirm it; besides, liberty of
conscience is established in France." "Doubtless,
and we are not now inquiring into his creed, but his actions; in the name
of the prefect of police, I ask you what you know of him. "He
passes for a very charitable man. Our holy father, the pope, has made him
a knight of Jesus Christ for the services he rendered to the Christians in
the East; he has five or six rings as testimonials from Eastern monarchs
of his services." "Does
he wear them?" "No,
but he is proud of them; he is better pleased with rewards given to the
benefactors of man than to his destroyers." "He
is a Quaker then?" "Exactly,
he is a Quaker, with the exception of the peculiar dress." "Has
he any friends?" "Yes,
every one who knows him is his friend." "But
has he any enemies?" "One
only." "What
is his name?" "Lord
Wilmore." "Where
is he?" "He
is in Paris just now." "Can
he give me any particulars?" "Important
ones; he was in India with Zaccone." "Do
you know his abode?" "It's
somewhere in the Chaussижe
d'Antin; but I know neither the street nor the number." "Are
you at variance with the Englishman?" "I
love Zaccone, and he hates him; we are consequently not friends." "Do
you think the Count of Monte Cristo had ever been in France before he made
this visit to Paris?" "To
that question I can answer positively; no, sir, he had not, because he
applied to me six months ago for the particulars he required, and as I did
not know when I might again come to Paris, I recommended M. Cavalcanti to
him." "Andrea?"
"No,
Bartolomeo, his father." "Now,
sir, I have but one question more to ask, and I charge you, in the name of
honor, of humanity, and of religion, to answer me candidly." "What
is it, sir?" "Do
you know with what design M. de Monte Cristo purchased a house at
Auteuil?" "Certainly,
for he told me." "What
is it, sir?" "To
make a lunatic asylum of it, similar to that founded by the Count of
Pisani at Palermo. Do you know about that institution?" "I
have heard of it." "It
is a magnificent charity." Having said this, the abbиж bowed to imply he wished to
pursue his studies. The visitor either understood the abbиж's meaning, or had no more
questions to ask; he arose, and the abbиж accompanied him to the door. "You are a great
almsgiver," said the visitor, "and although you are said to be
rich, I will venture to offer you something for your poor people; will you
accept my offering?" "I
thank you, sir; I am only jealous in one thing, and that is that the
relief I give should be entirely from my own resources." "However"--
"My
resolution, sir, is unchangeable, but you have only to search for yourself
and you will find, alas, but too many objects upon whom to exercise your
benevolence." The abbиж
once more bowed as he opened the door, the stranger bowed and took his
leave, and the carriage conveyed him straight to the house of M. de
Villefort. An hour afterwards the carriage was again ordered, and this
time it went to the Rue Fontaine-Saint-George, and stopped at No. 5, where
Lord Wilmore lived. The stranger had written to Lord Wilmore, requesting
an interview, which the latter had fixed for ten o'clock. As the envoy of
the prefect of police arrived ten minutes before ten, he was told that
Lord Wilmore, who was precision and punctuality personified, was not yet
come in, but that he would be sure to return as the clock struck. The
visitor was introduced into the drawing-room, which was like all other
furnished drawing-rooms. A mantle-piece, with two modern Sииvres vases, a timepiece
representing Cupid with his bent bow, a mirror with an engraving on each
side--one representing Homer carrying his guide, the other, Belisarius
begging--a grayish paper; red and black tapestry--such was the appearance
of Lord Wilmore's drawing-room. It was illuminated by lamps with
ground-glass shades which gave only a feeble light, as if out of
consideration for the envoy's weak sight. After ten minutes' expectation
the clock struck ten; at the fifth stroke the door opened and Lord Wilmore
appeared. He was rather above the middle height, with thin reddish
whiskers, light complexion and light hair, turning rather gray. He was
dressed with all the English peculiarity, namely, in a blue coat, with
gilt buttons and high collar, in the fashion of 1811, a white kerseymere
waistcoat, and nankeen pantaloons, three inches too short, but which were
prevented by straps from slipping up to the knee. His first remark on
entering was,--"You know, sir, I do not speak French?" "I
know you do not like to converse in our language," replied the envoy.
"But you may use it," replied Lord Wilmore; "I understand
it." "And
I," replied the visitor, changing his idiom, "know enough of
English to keep up the conversation. Do not put yourself to the slightest
inconvenience." "Aw?"
said Lord Wilmore, with that tone which is only known to natives of Great
Britain. The
envoy presented his letter of introduction, which the latter read with
English coolness, and having finished,--"I understand," said he,
"perfectly." Then
began the questions, which were similar to those which had been addressed
to the Abbиж
Busoni. But as Lord Wilmore, in the character of the count's enemy, was
less restrained in his answers, they were more numerous; he described the
youth of Monte Cristo, who he said, at ten years of age, entered the
service of one of the petty sovereigns of India who make war on the
English. It was there Wilmore had first met him and fought against him;
and in that war Zaccone had been taken prisoner, sent to England, and
consigned to the hulks, whence he had escaped by swimming. Then began his
travels, his duels, his caprices; then the insurrection in Greece broke
out, and he had served in the Grecian ranks. While in that service he had
discovered a silver mine in the mountains of Thessaly, but he had been
careful to conceal it from every one. After the battle of Navarino, when
the Greek government was consolidated, he asked of King Otho a mining
grant for that district, which was given him. Hence that immense fortune,
which, in Lord Wilmore's opinion, possibly amounted to one or two millions
per annum,--a precarious fortune, which might be momentarily lost by the
failure of the mine. "But,"
asked the visitor, "do you know why he came to France?" "He
is speculating in railways," said Lord Wilmore, "and as he is an
expert chemist and physicist, he has invented a new system of telegraphy,
which he is seeking to bring to perfection." "How
much does he spend yearly?" asked the prefect. "Not
more than five or six hundred thousand francs," said Lord Wilmore;
"he is a miser." Hatred evidently inspired the Englishman, who,
knowing no other reproach to bring on the count, accused him of avarice.
"Do you know his house at Auteuil?" "Certainly."
"What
do you know respecting it?" "Do
you wish to know why he bought it?" "Yes."
"The
count is a speculator, who will certainly ruin himself in experiments. He
supposes there is in the neighborhood of the house he has bought a mineral
spring equal to those at Bagneres, Luchon, and Cauterets. He is going to
turn his house into a Badhaus, as the Germans term it. He has already dug
up all the garden two or three times to find the famous spring, and, being
unsuccessful, he will soon purchase all the contiguous houses. Now, as I
dislike him, and hope his railway, his electric telegraph, or his search
for baths, will ruin him, I am watching for his discomfiture, which must
soon take place." "What
was the cause of your quarrel?" "When
he was in England he seduced the wife of one of my friends." "Why
do you not seek revenge?" "I
have already fought three duels with him," said the Englishman,
"the first with the pistol, the second with the sword, and the third
with the sabre." "And
what was the result of those duels?" "The
first time, he broke my arm; the second, he wounded me in the breast; and
the third time, made this large wound." The Englishman turned down
his shirt-collar, and showed a scar, whose redness proved it to be a
recent one. "So that, you see, there is a deadly feud between
us." "But,"
said the envoy, "you do not go about it in the right way to kill him,
if I understand you correctly." "Aw?"
said the Englishman, "I practice shooting every day, and every other
day Grisier comes to my house." This
was all the visitor wished to ascertain, or, rather, all the Englishman
appeared to know. The agent arose, and having bowed to Lord Wilmore, who
returned his salutation with the stiff politeness of the English, he
retired. Lord Wilmore, having heard the door close after him, returned to
his bedroom, where with one hand he pulled off his light hair, his red
whiskers, his false jaw, and his wound, to resume the black hair, dark
complexion, and pearly teeth of the Count of Monte Cristo. It was M. de
Villefort, and not the prefect, who returned to the house of M. de
Villefort. The procureur felt more at ease, although he had learned
nothing really satisfactory, and, for the first time since the
dinner-party at Auteuil, he slept soundly. |
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