"Connected by marriage, you mean," said Franz, laughingly.
"Well, never mind how it is," answered Albert, "it comes to the same
thing in the end. Perhaps by the time you return to Paris, I shall be
quite a sober, staid father of a family! A most edifying representative
I shall make of all the domestic virtues--don't you think so? But as
regards your wish to visit our fine city, my dear count, I can only say
that you may command me and mine to any extent you please."
"Then it is settled," said the count, "and I give you my solemn
assurance that I only waited an opportunity like the present to realize
plans that I have long meditated." Franz did not doubt that these plans
were the same concerning which the count had dropped a few words in the
grotto of Monte Cristo, and while the Count was speaking the young man
watched him closely, hoping to read something of his purpose in his
face, but his countenance was inscrutable especially when, as in the
present case, it was veiled in a sphinx-like smile. "But tell me now,
count," exclaimed Albert, delighted at the idea of having to chaperon so
distinguished a person as Monte Cristo; "tell me truly whether you are
in earnest, or if this project of visiting Paris is merely one of the
chimerical and uncertain air castles of which we make so many in the
course of our lives, but which, like a house built on the sand, is
liable to be blown over by the first puff of wind?"
"I pledge you my honor," returned the count, "that I mean to do as I
have said; both inclination and positive necessity compel me to visit
Paris."
"When do you propose going thither?"
"Have you made up your mind when you shall be there yourself?"
"Certainly I have; in a fortnight or three weeks' time, that is to say,
as fast as I can get there!"
"Nay," said the Count; "I will give you three months ere I join you; you
see I make an ample allowance for all delays and difficulties.
"And in three months' time," said Albert, "you will be at my house?"
"Shall we make a positive appointment for a particular day and hour?"
inquired the count; "only let me warn you that I am proverbial for my
punctilious exactitude in keeping my engagements."
"Day for day, hour for hour," said Albert; "that will suit me to a dot."
"So be it, then," replied the count, and extending his hand towards a
calendar, suspended near the chimney-piece, he said, "to-day is the 21st
of February;" and drawing out his watch, added, "it is exactly half-past
ten o'clock. Now promise me to remember this, and expect me the 21st of
May at the same hour in the forenoon."
"Capital," exclaimed Albert; "your breakfast shall be waiting."
"Where do you live?"
"No. 27, Rue du Helder."
"Have you bachelor's apartments there? I hope my coming will not put you
to any inconvenience."
"I reside in my father's house, but occupy a pavilion at the farther
side of the court-yard, entirely separated from the main building."
"Quite sufficient," replied the count, as, taking out his tablets,
he wrote down "No. 27, Rue du Helder, 21st May, half-past ten in the
morning."
"Now then," said the count, returning his tablets to his pocket, "make
yourself perfectly easy; the hand of your time-piece will not be more
accurate in marking the time than myself."
"Shall I see you again ere my departure?" asked Albert.
"That depends; when do you leave?"
"To-morrow evening, at five o'clock."
"In that case I must say adieu to you, as I am compelled to go to
Naples, and shall not return hither before Saturday evening or Sunday
morning. And you, baron," pursued the count, addressing Franz, "do you
also depart to-morrow?"
"Yes."
"For France?"
"No, for Venice; I shall remain in Italy for another year or two."
"Then we shall not meet in Paris?"
"I fear I shall not have that honor."
"Well, since we must part," said the count, holding out a hand to
each of the young men, "allow me to wish you both a safe and pleasant
journey." It was the first time the hand of Franz had come in contact
with that of the mysterious individual before him, and unconsciously he
shuddered at its touch, for it felt cold and icy as that of a corpse.
"Let us understand each other," said Albert; "it is agreed--is it
not?--that you are to be at No. 27, in the Rue du Helder, on the 21st of
May, at half-past ten in the morning, and your word of honor passed for
your punctuality?"
"The 21st of May, at half-past ten in the morning, Rue du Helder, No.
27," replied the Count. The young men then rose, and bowing to the
count, quitted the room. "What is the matter?" asked Albert of Franz,
when they had returned to their own apartments; "you seem more than
commonly thoughtful."
"I will confess to you, Albert," replied Franz, "the count is a very
singular person, and the appointment you have made to meet him in Paris
fills me with a thousand apprehensions."
"My dear fellow," exclaimed Albert, "what can there possibly be in that
to excite uneasiness? Why, you must have lost your senses."
"Whether I am in my senses or not," answered Franz, "that is the way I
feel."
"Listen to me, Franz," said Albert; "I am glad that the occasion has
presented itself for saying this to you, for I have noticed how cold you
are in your bearing towards the count, while he, on the other hand, has
always been courtesy itself to us. Have you anything particular against
him?"
"Possibly."
"Did you ever meet him previously to coming hither?"
"I have."
"And where?"
"Will you promise me not to repeat a single word of what I am about to
tell you?"
"I promise."
"Upon your honor?"
"Upon my honor."
"Then listen to me." Franz then related to his friend the history of his
excursion to the Island of Monte Cristo and of his finding a party of
smugglers there, and the two Corsican bandits with them. He dwelt with
considerable force and energy on the almost magical hospitality he had
received from the count, and the magnificence of his entertainment
in the grotto of the "Thousand and One Nights." He recounted, with
circumstantial exactitude, all the particulars of the supper, the
hashish, the statues, the dream, and how, at his awakening, there
remained no proof or trace of all these events, save the small
yacht, seen in the distant horizon driving under full sail toward
Porto-Vecchio. Then he detailed the conversation overheard by him at the
Colosseum, between the count and Vampa, in which the count had promised
to obtain the release of the bandit Peppino,--an engagement which, as
our readers are aware, he most faithfully fulfilled. At last he arrived
at the adventure of the preceding night, and the embarrassment in which
he found himself placed by not having sufficient cash by six or seven
hundred piastres to make up the sum required, and finally of his
application to the count and the picturesque and satisfactory result
that followed. Albert listened with the most profound attention. "Well,"
said he, when Franz had concluded, "what do you find to object to in
all you have related? The count is fond of travelling, and, being rich,
possesses a vessel of his own. Go but to Portsmouth or Southampton, and
you will find the harbors crowded with the yachts belonging to such of
the English as can afford the expense, and have the same liking for this
amusement. Now, by way of having a resting-place during his excursions,
avoiding the wretched cookery--which has been trying its best to poison
me during the last four months, while you have manfully resisted its
effects for as many years,--and obtaining a bed on which it is possible
to slumber, Monte Cristo has furnished for himself a temporary abode
where you first found him; but, to prevent the possibility of the Tuscan
government taking a fancy to his enchanted palace, and thereby depriving
him of the advantages naturally expected from so large an outlay of
capital, he has wisely enough purchased the island, and taken its name.
Just ask yourself, my good fellow, whether there are not many persons of
our acquaintance who assume the names of lands and properties they never
in their lives were masters of?"
"But," said Franz, "the Corsican bandits that were among the crew of his
vessel?"
"Why, really the thing seems to me simple enough. Nobody knows better
than yourself that the bandits of Corsica are not rogues or thieves, but
purely and simply fugitives, driven by some sinister motive from their
native town or village, and that their fellowship involves no disgrace
or stigma; for my own part, I protest that, should I ever go to Corsica,
my first visit, ere even I presented myself to the mayor or prefect,
should be to the bandits of Colomba, if I could only manage to find
them; for, on my conscience, they are a race of men I admire greatly."
"Still," persisted Franz, "I suppose you will allow that such men as
Vampa and his band are regular villains, who have no other motive than
plunder when they seize your person. How do you explain the influence
the count evidently possessed over those ruffians?"
"My good friend, as in all probability I own my present safety to that
influence, it would ill become me to search too closely into its source;
therefore, instead of condemning him for his intimacy with outlaws, you
must give me leave to excuse any little irregularity there may be in
such a connection; not altogether for preserving my life, for my own
idea was that it never was in much danger, but certainly for saving me
4,000 piastres, which, being translated, means neither more nor less
than 24,000 livres of our money--a sum at which, most assuredly, I
should never have been estimated in France, proving most indisputably,"
added Albert with a laugh, "that no prophet is honored in his own
country."
"Talking of countries," replied Franz, "of what country is the count,
what is his native tongue, whence does he derive his immense fortune,
and what were those events of his early life--a life as marvellous
as unknown--that have tinctured his succeeding years with so dark and
gloomy a misanthropy? Certainly these are questions that, in your place,
I should like to have answered."
"My dear Franz," replied Albert, "when, upon receipt of my letter, you
found the necessity of asking the count's assistance, you promptly went
to him, saying, 'My friend Albert de Morcerf is in danger; help me to
deliver him.' Was not that nearly what you said?"
"It was."
"Well, then, did he ask you, 'Who is M. Albert de Morcerf? how does he
come by his name--his fortune? what are his means of existence? what is
his birthplace! of what country is he a native?' Tell me, did he put all
these questions to you?"
"I confess he asked me none."
"No; he merely came and freed me from the hands of Signor Vampa, where,
I can assure you, in spite of all my outward appearance of ease and
unconcern, I did not very particularly care to remain. Now, then, Franz,
when, for services so promptly and unhesitatingly rendered, he but asks
me in return to do for him what is done daily for any Russian prince
or Italian nobleman who may pass through Paris--merely to introduce him
into society--would you have me refuse? My good fellow, you must have
lost your senses to think it possible I could act with such cold-blooded
policy." And this time it must be confessed that, contrary to the usual
state of affairs in discussions between the young men, the effective
arguments were all on Albert's side.
"Well," said Franz with a sigh, "do as you please my dear viscount, for
your arguments are beyond my powers of refutation. Still, in spite of
all, you must admit that this Count of Monte Cristo is a most singular
personage."
"He is a philanthropist," answered the other; "and no doubt his motive
in visiting Paris is to compete for the Monthyon prize, given, as you
are aware, to whoever shall be proved to have most materially advanced
the interests of virtue and humanity. If my vote and interest can obtain
it for him, I will readily give him the one and promise the other. And
now, my dear Franz, let us talk of something else. Come, shall we take
our luncheon, and then pay a last visit to St. Peter's?" Franz silently
assented; and the following afternoon, at half-past five o'clock,
the young men parted. Albert de Morcerf to return to Paris, and
Franz d'Epinay to pass a fortnight at Venice. But, ere he entered his
travelling carriage, Albert, fearing that his expected guest might
forget the engagement he had entered into, placed in the care of a
waiter at the hotel a card to be delivered to the Count of Monte Cristo,
on which, beneath the name of Vicomte Albert de Morcerf, he had written
in pencil--"27, Rue du Helder, on the 21st May, half-past ten A.M."
Chapter 39. The Guests.
In the house in the Rue du Helder, where Albert had invited the Count of
Monte Cristo, everything was being prepared on the morning of the
21st of May to do honor to the occasion. Albert de Morcerf inhabited a
pavilion situated at the corner of a large court, and directly opposite
another building, in which were the servants' apartments. Two windows
only of the pavilion faced the street; three other windows looked into
the court, and two at the back into the garden. Between the court and
