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
became 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 Mercedes, 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!"
Chapter 91. Mother and Son.
The Count of Monte Cristo bowed to the five young men with a melancholy
and dignified smile, and got into his carriage with Maximilian and
Emmanuel. Albert, Beauchamp, and Chateau-Renaud remained alone. Albert
looked at his two friends, not timidly, but in a way that appeared to
ask their opinion of what he had just done.
"Indeed, my dear friend," said Beauchamp first, who had either the most
feeling or the least dissimulation, "allow me to congratulate you; this
is a very unhoped-for conclusion of a very disagreeable affair."
Albert remained silent and wrapped in thought. Chateau-Renaud contented
himself with tapping his boot with his flexible cane. "Are we not
going?" said he, after this embarrassing silence. "When you please,"
replied Beauchamp; "allow me only to compliment M. de Morcerf, who has
given proof to-day of rare chivalric generosity."
"Oh, yes," said Chateau-Renaud.
"It is magnificent," continued Beauchamp, "to be able to exercise so
much self-control!"
"Assuredly; as for me, I should have been incapable of it," said
Chateau-Renaud, with most significant coolness.
"Gentlemen," interrupted Albert, "I think you did not understand
that something very serious had passed between M. de Monte Cristo and
myself."
"Possibly, possibly," said Beauchamp immediately; "but every simpleton
would not be able to understand your heroism, and sooner or later you
will find yourself compelled to explain it to them more energetically
than would be convenient to your bodily health and the duration of your
life. May I give you a friendly counsel? Set out for Naples, the Hague,
or St. Petersburg--calm countries, where the point of honor is better
understood than among our hot-headed Parisians. Seek quietude and
oblivion, so that you may return peaceably to France after a few years.
Am I not right, M. de Chateau-Renaud?"
"That is quite my opinion," said the gentleman; "nothing induces serious
duels so much as a duel forsworn."
"Thank you, gentlemen," replied Albert, with a smile of indifference;
"I shall follow your advice--not because you give it, but because I had
before intended to quit France. I thank you equally for the service you
have rendered me in being my seconds. It is deeply engraved on my
heart, and, after what you have just said, I remember that only."
Chateau-Renaud and Beauchamp looked at each other; the impression
was the same on both of them, and the tone in which Morcerf had just
expressed his thanks was so determined that the position would have
become embarrassing for all if the conversation had continued.
"Good-by, Albert," said Beauchamp suddenly, carelessly extending his
hand to the young man. The latter did not appear to arouse from his
lethargy; in fact, he did not notice the offered hand. "Good-by," said
Chateau-Renaud in his turn, keeping his little cane in his left hand,
and saluting with his right. Albert's lips scarcely whispered "Good-by,"
but his look was more explicit; it expressed a whole poem of restrained
anger, proud disdain, and generous indignation. He preserved his
melancholy and motionless position for some time after his two friends
had regained their carriage; then suddenly unfastening his horse
from the little tree to which his servant had tied it, he mounted and
galloped off in the direction of Paris.
In a quarter of an hour he was entering the house in the Rue du Helder.
As he alighted, he thought he saw his father's pale face behind the
curtain of the count's bedroom. Albert turned away his head with a sigh,
and went to his own apartments. He cast one lingering look on all the
luxuries which had rendered life so easy and so happy since his
infancy; he looked at the pictures, whose faces seemed to smile, and the
landscapes, which appeared painted in brighter colors. Then he took away
his mother's portrait, with its oaken frame, leaving the gilt frame from
which he took it black and empty. Then he arranged all his beautiful
Turkish arms, his fine English guns, his Japanese china, his cups
mounted in silver, his artistic bronzes by Feucheres and Barye; examined
the cupboards, and placed the key in each; threw into a drawer of his
secretary, which he left open, all the pocket-money he had about
him, and with it the thousand fancy jewels from his vases and his
jewel-boxes; then he made an exact inventory of everything, and placed
it in the most conspicuous part of the table, after putting aside the
books and papers which had collected there.
At the beginning of this work, his servant, notwithstanding orders to
the contrary, came to his room. "What do you want?" asked he, with a
more sorrowful than angry tone. "Pardon me, sir," replied the valet;
"you had forbidden me to disturb you, but the Count of Morcerf has
called me."
"Well!" said Albert.
"I did not like to go to him without first seeing you."
"Why?"
"Because the count is doubtless aware that I accompanied you to the
meeting this morning."
"It is probable," said Albert.
"And since he has sent for me, it is doubtless to question me on what
happened there. What must I answer?"
"The truth."
"Then I shall say the duel did not take place?"
"You will say I apologized to the Count of Monte Cristo. Go."
The valet bowed and retired, and Albert returned to his inventory. As he
was finishing this work, the sound of horses prancing in the yard, and
the wheels of a carriage shaking his window, attracted his attention. He
approached the window, and saw his father get into it, and drive away.
The door was scarcely closed when Albert bent his steps to his mother's
room; and, no one being there to announce him, he advanced to her
