to me, the poor creature would perish from want, for my brother's pay
alone kept her. Pray, try and obtain a small government pension for
her.'
"'Every revolution has its catastrophes,' returned M. de Villefort;
'your brother has been the victim of this. It is a misfortune, and
government owes nothing to his family. If we are to judge by all the
vengeance that the followers of the usurper exercised on the partisans
of the king, when, in their turn, they were in power, your brother would
be to-day, in all probability, condemned to death. What has happened is
quite natural, and in conformity with the law of reprisals.'--'What,'
cried I, 'do you, a magistrate, speak thus to me?'--'All these Corsicans
are mad, on my honor,' replied M. de Villefort; 'they fancy that their
countryman is still emperor. You have mistaken the time, you should have
told me this two months ago, it is too late now. Go now, at once, or I
shall have you put out.'
"I looked at him an instant to see if there was anything to hope from
further entreaty. But he was a man of stone. I approached him, and said
in a low voice, 'Well, since you know the Corsicans so well, you know
that they always keep their word. You think that it was a good deed
to kill my brother, who was a Bonapartist, because you are a royalist.
Well, I, who am a Bonapartist also, declare one thing to you, which is,
that I will kill you. From this moment I declare the vendetta against
you, so protect yourself as well as you can, for the next time we meet
your last hour has come.' And before he had recovered from his surprise,
I opened the door and left the room."
"Well, well," said Monte Cristo, "such an innocent looking person as you
are to do those things, M. Bertuccio, and to a king's attorney at that!
But did he know what was meant by the terrible word 'vendetta'?"
"He knew so well, that from that moment he shut himself in his house,
and never went out unattended, seeking me high and low. Fortunately, I
was so well concealed that he could not find me. Then he became alarmed,
and dared not stay any longer at Nimes, so he solicited a change of
residence, and, as he was in reality very influential, he was nominated
to Versailles. But, as you know, a Corsican who has sworn to avenge
himself cares not for distance, so his carriage, fast as it went, was
never above half a day's journey before me, who followed him on foot.
The most important thing was, not to kill him only--for I had an
opportunity of doing so a hundred times--but to kill him without being
discovered--at least, without being arrested. I no longer belonged to
myself, for I had my sister-in-law to protect and provide for. For three
months I watched M. de Villefort, for three months he took not a step
out-of-doors without my following him. At length I discovered that he
went mysteriously to Auteuil. I followed him thither, and I saw him
enter the house where we now are, only, instead of entering by the
great door that looks into the street, he came on horseback, or in his
carriage, left the one or the other at the little inn, and entered by
the gate you see there." Monte Cristo made a sign with his head to
show that he could discern in the darkness the door to which Bertuccio
alluded. "As I had nothing more to do at Versailles, I went to Auteuil,
and gained all the information I could. If I wished to surprise him,
it was evident this was the spot to lie in wait for him. The house
belonged, as the concierge informed your excellency, to M. de
Saint-Meran, Villefort's father-in-law. M. de Saint-Meran lived at
Marseilles, so that this country house was useless to him, and it was
reported to be let to a young widow, known only by the name of 'the
baroness.'
"One evening, as I was looking over the wall, I saw a young and handsome
woman who was walking alone in that garden, which was not overlooked by
any windows, and I guessed that she was awaiting M. de Villefort. When
she was sufficiently near for me to distinguish her features, I saw she
was from eighteen to nineteen, tall and very fair. As she had a loose
muslin dress on and as nothing concealed her figure, I saw she would ere
long become a mother. A few moments after, the little door was opened
and a man entered. The young woman hastened to meet him. They threw
themselves into each other's arms, embraced tenderly, and returned
together to the house. The man was M. de Villefort; I fully believed
that when he went out in the night he would be forced to traverse the
whole of the garden alone."
"And," asked the count, "did you ever know the name of this woman?"
"No, excellency," returned Bertuccio; "you will see that I had no time
to learn it."
"Go on."
"That evening," continued Bertuccio, "I could have killed the procureur,
but as I was not sufficiently acquainted with the neighborhood, I was
fearful of not killing him on the spot, and that if his cries were
overheard I might be taken; so I put it off until the next occasion, and
in order that nothing should escape me, I took a chamber looking into
the street bordered by the wall of the garden. Three days after, about
seven o'clock in the evening, I saw a servant on horseback leave the
house at full gallop, and take the road to Sevres. I concluded that he
was going to Versailles, and I was not deceived. Three hours later,
the man returned covered with dust, his errand was performed, and two
minutes after, another man on foot, muffled in a mantle, opened the
little door of the garden, which he closed after him. I descended
rapidly; although I had not seen Villefort's face, I recognized him by
the beating of my heart. I crossed the street, and stopped at a post
placed at the angle of the wall, and by means of which I had once before
looked into the garden. This time I did not content myself with looking,
but I took my knife out of my pocket, felt that the point was sharp, and
sprang over the wall. My first care was to run to the door; he had left
the key in it, taking the simple precaution of turning it twice in the
lock. Nothing, then, preventing my escape by this means, I examined
the grounds. The garden was long and narrow; a stretch of smooth turf
extended down the middle, and at the corners were clumps of trees with
thick and massy foliage, that made a background for the shrubs and
flowers. In order to go from the door to the house, or from the house
to the door, M. de Villefort would be obliged to pass by one of these
clumps of trees.
"It was the end of September; the wind blew violently. The faint
glimpses of the pale moon, hidden momentarily by masses of dark clouds
that were sweeping across the sky, whitened the gravel walks that led
to the house, but were unable to pierce the obscurity of the thick
shrubberies, in which a man could conceal himself without any fear of
discovery. I hid myself in the one nearest to the path Villefort must
take, and scarcely was I there when, amidst the gusts of wind, I
fancied I heard groans; but you know, or rather you do not know, your
excellency, that he who is about to commit an assassination fancies that
he hears low cries perpetually ringing in his ears. Two hours passed
thus, during which I imagined I heard moans repeatedly. Midnight struck.
As the last stroke died away, I saw a faint light shine through the
windows of the private staircase by which we have just descended. The
door opened, and the man in the mantle reappeared. The terrible moment
had come, but I had so long been prepared for it that my heart did not
fail in the least. I drew my knife from my pocket again, opened it, and
made ready to strike. The man in the mantle advanced towards me, but as
he drew near I saw that he had a weapon in his hand. I was afraid, not
of a struggle, but of a failure. When he was only a few paces from me,
I saw that what I had taken for a weapon was only a spade. I was still
unable to divine for what reason M. de Villefort had this spade in his
hands, when he stopped close to the thicket where I was, glanced round,
and began to dig a hole in the earth. I then perceived that he was
hiding something under his mantle, which he laid on the grass in order
to dig more freely. Then, I confess, curiosity mingled with hatred;
I wished to see what Villefort was going to do there, and I remained
motionless, holding my breath. Then an idea crossed my mind, which was
confirmed when I saw the procureur lift from under his mantle a box, two
feet long, and six or eight inches deep. I let him place the box in the
hole he had made, then, while he stamped with his feet to remove all
traces of his occupation, I rushed on him and plunged my knife into
his breast, exclaiming,--'I am Giovanni Bertuccio; thy death for my
brother's; thy treasure for his widow; thou seest that my vengeance is
more complete than I had hoped.' I know not if he heard these words; I
think he did not, for he fell without a cry. I felt his blood gush
over my face, but I was intoxicated, I was delirious, and the blood
refreshed, instead of burning me. In a second I had disinterred the box;
then, that it might not be known I had done so, I filled up the hole,
threw the spade over the wall, and rushed through the door, which I
double-locked, carrying off the key."
"Ah," said Monte Cristo "it seems to me this was nothing but murder and
robbery."
"No, your excellency," returned Bertuccio; "it was a vendetta followed
by restitution."
"And was the sum a large one?"
"It was not money."
"Ah, I recollect," replied the count; "did you not say something of an
infant?"
"Yes, excellency; I hastened to the river, sat down on the bank, and
with my knife forced open the lock of the box. In a fine linen cloth
was wrapped a new-born child. Its purple visage, and its violet-colored
hands showed that it had perished from suffocation, but as it was not
yet cold, I hesitated to throw it into the water that ran at my feet.
After a moment I fancied that I felt a slight pulsation of the heart,
and as I had been assistant at the hospital at Bastia, I did what a
doctor would have done--I inflated the lungs by blowing air into them,
and at the expiration of a quarter of an hour, it began to breathe, and
cried feebly. In my turn I uttered a cry, but a cry of joy. 'God has
not cursed me then,' I cried, 'since he permits me to save the life of a
human creature, in exchange for the life I have taken away.'"
"And what did you do with the child?" asked Monte Cristo. "It was an
embarrassing load for a man seeking to escape."
"I had not for a moment the idea of keeping it, but I knew that at Paris
there was an asylum where they receive such creatures. As I passed the
city gates I declared that I had found the child on the road, and I
inquired where the asylum was; the box confirmed my statement, the linen
proved that the infant belonged to wealthy parents, the blood with which
I was covered might have proceeded from the child as well as from any
one else. No objection was raised, but they pointed out the asylum,
which was situated at the upper end of the Rue d'Enfer, and after having
taken the precaution of cutting the linen in two pieces, so that one
of the two letters which marked it was on the piece wrapped around the
child, while the other remained in my possession, I rang the bell, and
fled with all speed. A fortnight after I was at Rogliano, and I said to
Assunta,--'Console thyself, sister; Israel is dead, but he is avenged.'
She demanded what I meant, and when I had told her all,--'Giovanni,'
said she, 'you should have brought this child with you; we would have
replaced the parents it has lost, have called it Benedetto, and then, in
consequence of this good action, God would have blessed us.' In reply I
gave her the half of the linen I had kept in order to reclaim him if we
became rich."
"What letters were marked on the linen?" said Monte Cristo.
"An H and an N, surmounted by a baron's coronet."
"By heaven, M. Bertuccio, you make use of heraldic terms; where did you
study heraldry?"
"In your service, excellency, where everything is learned."
"Go on, I am curious to know two things."
"What are they, your excellency?"
"What became of this little boy? for I think you told me it was a boy,
M. Bertuccio."
"No excellency, I do not recollect telling you that."
"I thought you did; I must have been mistaken."
"No, you were not, for it was in reality a little boy. But your
excellency wished to know two things; what was the second?"
"The second was the crime of which you were accused when you asked for a
confessor, and the Abbe Busoni came to visit you at your request in the
prison at Nimes."
"The story will be very long, excellency."
"What matter? you know I take but little sleep, and I do not suppose you
are very much inclined for it either." Bertuccio bowed, and resumed his
story.
"Partly to drown the recollections of the past that haunted me, partly
to supply the wants of the poor widow, I eagerly returned to my trade of
smuggler, which had become more easy since that relaxation of the
laws which always follows a revolution. The southern districts were
ill-watched in particular, in consequence of the disturbances that were
perpetually breaking out in Avignon, Nimes, or Uzes. We profited by this
respite on the part of the government to make friends everywhere. Since
my brother's assassination in the streets of Nimes, I had never
entered the town; the result was that the inn-keeper with whom we were
connected, seeing that we would no longer come to him, was forced to
come to us, and had established a branch to his inn, on the road from
