produced a good effect. "Is the abbe 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 abbe
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 Abbe
Busoni?" asked the visitor.
"Yes, sir," replied the abbe; "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 abbe 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 abbe, 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 abbe 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 abbe 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, abbe," said the envoy of the
prefect of the police, "but the light tries my eyes very much." The abbe
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 abbe, 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 Chaussee 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 abbe bowed to
imply he wished to pursue his studies. The visitor either understood the
abbe's meaning, or had no more questions to ask; he arose, and the
abbe 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 abbe 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 Sevres
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 Abbe 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
