The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas (electronic reader txt) đ
- Author: Alexandre Dumas
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Mademoiselle Danglarsâ charms were heightened in the opinion of the young men, and for the moment seemed to outvie the sun in splendor. As for the ladies, it is needless to say that while they coveted the millions, they thought they did not need them for themselves, as they were beautiful enough without them. Andrea, surrounded by his friends, complimented, flattered, beginning to believe in the reality of his dream, was almost bewildered. The notary solemnly took the pen, flourished it above his head, and said:
âGentlemen, we are about to sign the contract.â
The baron was to sign first, then the representative of M. Cavalcanti, senior, then the baroness, afterwards the âfuture couple,â as they are styled in the abominable phraseology of legal documents.
The baron took the pen and signed, then the representative. The baroness approached, leaning on Madame de Villefortâs arm.
âMy dear,â said she, as she took the pen, âis it not vexatious? An unexpected incident, in the affair of murder and theft at the Count of Monte Cristoâs, in which he nearly fell a victim, deprives us of the pleasure of seeing M. de Villefort.â
âIndeed?â said M. Danglars, in the same tone in which he would have said, âOh, well, what do I care?â
âAs a matter of fact,â said Monte Cristo, approaching, âI am much afraid that I am the involuntary cause of his absence.â
âWhat, you, count?â said Madame Danglars, signing; âif you are, take care, for I shall never forgive you.â
Andrea pricked up his ears.
âBut it is not my fault, as I shall endeavor to prove.â
Everyone listened eagerly; Monte Cristo who so rarely opened his lips, was about to speak.
âYou remember,â said the count, during the most profound silence, âthat the unhappy wretch who came to rob me died at my house; the supposition is that he was stabbed by his accomplice, on attempting to leave it.â
âYes,â said Danglars.
âIn order that his wounds might be examined he was undressed, and his clothes were thrown into a corner, where the police picked them up, with the exception of the waistcoat, which they overlooked.â
Andrea turned pale, and drew towards the door; he saw a cloud rising in the horizon, which appeared to forebode a coming storm.
âWell, this waistcoat was discovered today, covered with blood, and with a hole over the heart.â The ladies screamed, and two or three prepared to faint. âIt was brought to me. No one could guess what the dirty rag could be; I alone suspected that it was the waistcoat of the murdered man. My valet, in examining this mournful relic, felt a paper in the pocket and drew it out; it was a letter addressed to you, baron.â
âTo me?â cried Danglars.
âYes, indeed, to you; I succeeded in deciphering your name under the blood with which the letter was stained,â replied Monte Cristo, amid the general outburst of amazement.
âBut,â asked Madame Danglars, looking at her husband with uneasiness, âhow could that prevent M. de Villefortâââ
âIn this simple way, madame,â replied Monte Cristo; âthe waistcoat and the letter were both what is termed circumstantial evidence; I therefore sent them to the kingâs attorney. You understand, my dear baron, that legal methods are the safest in criminal cases; it was, perhaps, some plot against you.â Andrea looked steadily at Monte Cristo and disappeared in the second drawing-room.
âPossibly,â said Danglars; âwas not this murdered man an old galley-slave?â
âYes,â replied the count; âa felon named Caderousse.â Danglars turned slightly pale; Andrea reached the anteroom beyond the little drawing-room.
âBut go on signing,â said Monte Cristo; âI perceive that my story has caused a general emotion, and I beg to apologize to you, baroness, and to Mademoiselle Danglars.â
The baroness, who had signed, returned the pen to the notary.
âPrince Cavalcanti,â said the latter; âPrince Cavalcanti, where are you?â
âAndrea, Andrea,â repeated several young people, who were already on sufficiently intimate terms with him to call him by his Christian name.
âCall the prince; inform him that it is his turn to sign,â cried Danglars to one of the floorkeepers.
But at the same instant the crowd of guests rushed in alarm into the principal salon as if some frightful monster had entered the apartments, quĂŠrens quem devoret. There was, indeed, reason to retreat, to be alarmed, and to scream. An officer was placing two soldiers at the door of each drawing-room, and was advancing towards Danglars, preceded by a commissary of police, girded with his scarf. Madame Danglars uttered a scream and fainted. Danglars, who thought himself threatened (certain consciences are never calm),âDanglars even before his guests showed a countenance of abject terror.
âWhat is the matter, sir?â asked Monte Cristo, advancing to meet the commissioner.
âWhich of you gentlemen,â asked the magistrate, without replying to the count, âanswers to the name of Andrea Cavalcanti?â
A cry of astonishment was heard from all parts of the room. They searched; they questioned.
âBut who then is Andrea Cavalcanti?â asked Danglars in amazement.
âA galley-slave, escaped from confinement at Toulon.â
âAnd what crime has he committed?â
âHe is accused,â said the commissary with his inflexible voice, âof having assassinated the man named Caderousse, his former companion in prison, at the moment he was making his escape from the house of the Count of Monte Cristo.â
Monte Cristo cast a rapid glance around him. Andrea was gone.
A few minutes after the scene of confusion produced in the salons of M. Danglars by the unexpected appearance of the brigade of soldiers, and by the disclosure which had followed, the mansion was deserted with as much rapidity as if a case of plague or of cholera morbus had broken out among the guests.
In a few minutes, through all the doors, down all the staircases, by every exit, everyone hastened to retire, or rather to fly; for it was a situation where the ordinary condolences,âwhich even the best friends are so eager to offer in great catastrophes,âwere seen to be utterly futile. There remained in the bankerâs house only Danglars, closeted in his study, and making his statement to the officer of gendarmes; Madame Danglars, terrified, in the boudoir with which we are acquainted; and EugĂ©nie, who with haughty air and disdainful lip had retired to her room with her inseparable companion, Mademoiselle Louise dâArmilly.
As for the numerous servants (more numerous that evening than usual, for their number was augmented by cooks and butlers from the CafĂ© de Paris), venting on their employers their anger at what they termed the insult to which they had been subjected, they collected in groups in the hall, in the kitchens, or in their rooms, thinking very little of their duty, which was thus naturally interrupted. Of all this household, only two persons deserve our notice; these are Mademoiselle EugĂ©nie Danglars and Mademoiselle Louise dâArmilly.
The betrothed had retired, as we said, with haughty air, disdainful lip, and the demeanor of an outraged queen, followed by her companion, who was paler and more disturbed than herself. On reaching her room Eugénie locked her door, while Louise fell on a chair.
âAh, what a dreadful thing,â said the young musician; âwho would have suspected it? M. Andrea Cavalcanti a murdererâa galley-slave escapedâa convict!â
An ironical smile curled the lip of EugĂ©nie. âIn truth, I was fated,â said she. âI escaped the Morcerf only to fall into the Cavalcanti.â
âOh, do not confound the two, EugĂ©nie.â
âHold your tongue! The men are all infamous, and I am happy to be able now to do more than detest themâI despise them.â
âWhat shall we do?â asked Louise.
âWhat shall we do?â
âYes.â
âWhy, the same we had intended doing three days sinceâset off.â
âWhat?âalthough you are not now going to be married, you intend stillâââ
âListen, Louise. I hate this life of the fashionable world, always ordered, measured, ruled, like our music-paper. What I have always wished for, desired, and coveted, is the life of an artist, free and independent, relying only on my own resources, and accountable only to myself. Remain here? What for?âthat they may try, a month hence, to marry me again; and to whom?âM. Debray, perhaps, as it was once proposed. No, Louise, no! This eveningâs adventure will serve for my excuse. I did not seek one, I did not ask for one. God sends me this, and I hail it joyfully!â
âHow strong and courageous you are!â said the fair, frail girl to her brunette companion.
âDid you not yet know me? Come, Louise, let us talk of our affairs. The post-chaiseâââ
âWas happily bought three days since.â
âHave you had it sent where we are to go for it?â
âYes.â
âOur passport?â
âHere it is.â
And Eugénie, with her usual precision, opened a printed paper, and read:
âM. LĂ©on dâArmilly, twenty years of age; profession, artist; hair black, eyes black; travelling with his sister.â
âCapital! How did you get this passport?â
âWhen I went to ask M. de Monte Cristo for letters to the directors of the theatres at Rome and Naples, I expressed my fears of travelling as a woman; he perfectly understood them, and undertook to procure for me a manâs passport, and two days after I received this, to which I have added with my own hand, âtravelling with his sister.ââ
âWell,â said EugĂ©nie cheerfully, âwe have then only to pack up our trunks; we shall start the evening of the signing of the contract, instead of the evening of the weddingâthat is all.â
âBut consider the matter seriously, EugĂ©nie!â
âOh, I am done with considering! I am tired of hearing only of market reports, of the end of the month, of the rise and fall of Spanish funds, of Haitian bonds. Instead of that, Louiseâdo you understand?âair, liberty, melody of birds, plains of Lombardy, Venetian canals, Roman palaces, the Bay of Naples. How much have we, Louise?â
The young girl to whom this question was addressed drew from an inlaid secretaire a small portfolio with a lock, in which she counted twenty-three bank-notes.
âTwenty-three thousand francs,â said she.
âAnd as much, at least, in pearls, diamonds, and jewels,â said EugĂ©nie. âWe are rich. With forty-five thousand francs we can live like princesses for two years, and comfortably for four; but before six monthsâyou with your music, and I with my voiceâwe shall double our capital. Come, you shall take charge of the money, I of the jewel-box; so that if one of us had the misfortune to lose her treasure, the other would still have hers left. Now, the portmanteauâlet us make hasteâthe portmanteau!â
âStop!â said Louise, going to listen at Madame Danglarsâ door.
âWhat do you fear?â
âThat we may be discovered.â
âThe door is locked.â
âThey may tell us to open it.â
âThey may if they like, but we will not.â
âYou are a perfect Amazon, EugĂ©nie!â And the two young girls began to heap into a trunk all the things they thought they should require.
âThere now,â said EugĂ©nie, âwhile I change my costume do you lock the portmanteau.â Louise pressed with all the strength of her little hands on the top of the portmanteau.
âBut I cannot,â said she; âI am not strong enough; do you shut it.â
âAh, you do well to ask,â said EugĂ©nie, laughing; âI forgot that I was Hercules, and you only the pale Omphale!â
And the young girl, kneeling on the top, pressed the two parts of the portmanteau together, and Mademoiselle dâArmilly passed the bolt of the padlock through. When this was done, EugĂ©nie opened a drawer, of which she kept the key, and took from it a wadded violet silk travelling cloak.
âHere,â said she, âyou see I have thought of everything; with this cloak you will not be cold.â
âBut you?â
âOh, I am never cold, you know! Besides, with these menâs clothesâââ
âWill you dress here?â
âCertainly.â
âShall you have time?â
âDo not be uneasy, you little coward! All our servants are busy, discussing the grand affair. Besides, what is there astonishing, when you think of the grief I ought to be in, that I shut myself up?âtell me!â
âNo, trulyâyou comfort me.â
âCome and help me.â
From the same drawer she took a manâs complete costume, from the boots to the coat, and a provision of linen, where there was nothing superfluous, but every requisite. Then, with a promptitude which indicated that this was not the first time she had amused herself by adopting the garb of the opposite sex, EugĂ©nie drew on the boots and pantaloons, tied her cravat, buttoned her waistcoat up to the throat, and put on a coat which admirably fitted her beautiful figure.
âOh, that is very goodâindeed, it is very good!â said Louise, looking at her with admiration; âbut that beautiful black hair, those magnificent braids, which made all the ladies sigh with envy,âwill they go under a manâs hat like the one I see down there?â
âYou shall see,â said EugĂ©nie. And with her left hand seizing the thick mass, which her long fingers could scarcely grasp, she took in her right hand a
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