Part 100

“Why demand permission ere you enter? Are you no longer my master, or have I ceased to be your slave?” Monte Cristo returned her smile. “Haydée,” said he, “you well know.” “Why do you address me so coldly—so distantly?” asked the young Greek. “Have I by any means displeased you? Oh, if so, punish me as you will; but do not—do not speak to me in tones and manner so formal and constrained.” “Haydée,” replied the count, “you know that you are now in France, and are free.” “Free to do what?” asked the young girl. “Free to leave me.” “Leave you? Why should I leave you?” “That is not for me to say; but we are now about to mix in society—to visit and be visited.” “I don’t wish to see anybody but you.” “And should you see one whom you could prefer, I would not be so unjust——” “I have never seen anyone I preferred to you, and I have never loved anyone but you and my father.” “My poor child,” replied Monte Cristo, “that is merely because your father and myself are the only men who have ever talked to you.” “I don’t want anybody else to talk to me. My father said I was his ‘joy’—you style me your ‘love,’—and both of you have called me ‘my child.’” “Do you remember your father, Haydée?” The young Greek smiled. “He is here, and here,” said she, touching her eyes and her heart. “And where am I?” inquired Monte Cristo laughingly. “You?” cried she, with tones of thrilling tenderness, “you are everywhere!” Monte Cristo took the delicate hand of the young girl in his, and was about to raise it to his lips, when the simple child of nature hastily withdrew it, and presented her cheek. “You now understand, Haydée,” said the count, “that from this moment you are absolutely free; that here you exercise unlimited sway, and are at liberty to lay aside or continue the costume of your country, as it may suit your inclination. Within this mansion you are absolute mistress of your actions, and may go abroad or remain in your apartments as may seem most agreeable to you. A carriage waits your orders, and Ali and Myrtho will accompany you whithersoever you desire to go. There is but one favor I would entreat of you.” “Speak.” “Guard carefully the secret of your birth. Make no allusion to the past; nor upon any occasion be induced to pronounce the names of your illustrious father or ill-fated mother.” “I have already told you, my lord, that I shall see no one.” “It is possible, Haydée, that so perfect a seclusion, though conformable with the habits and customs of the East, may not be practicable in Paris. Endeavor, then, to accustom yourself to our manner of living in these northern climes as you did to those of Rome, Florence, Milan, and Madrid; it may be useful to you one of these days, whether you remain here or return to the East.” The young girl raised her tearful eyes towards Monte Cristo as she said with touching earnestness, “Whether _we_ return to the East, you mean to say, my lord, do you not?” “My child,” returned Monte Cristo “you know full well that whenever we part, it will be no fault or wish of mine; the tree forsakes not the flower—the flower falls from the tree.” “My lord,” replied Haydée, “I never will leave you, for I am sure I could not exist without you.” “My poor girl, in ten years I shall be old, and you will be still young.” “My father had a long white beard, but I loved him; he was sixty years old, but to me he was handsomer than all the fine youths I saw.” “Then tell me, Haydée, do you believe you shall be able to accustom yourself to our present mode of life?” “Shall I see you?” “Every day.” “Then what do you fear, my lord?” “You might find it dull.” “No, my lord. In the morning, I shall rejoice in the prospect of your coming, and in the evening dwell with delight on the happiness I have enjoyed in your presence; then too, when alone, I can call forth mighty pictures of the past, see vast horizons bounded only by the towering mountains of Pindus and Olympus. Oh, believe me, that when three great passions, such as sorrow, love, and gratitude fill the heart, _ennui_ can find no place.” “You are a worthy daughter of Epirus, Haydée, and your charming and poetical ideas prove well your descent from that race of goddesses who claim your country as their birthplace. Depend on my care to see that your youth is not blighted, or suffered to pass away in ungenial solitude; and of this be well assured, that if you love me as a father, I love you as a child.” “You are wrong, my lord. The love I have for you is very different from the love I had for my father. My father died, but I did not die. If you were to die, I should die too.” The count, with a smile of profound tenderness, extended his hand, and she carried it to her lips. Monte Cristo, thus attuned to the interview he proposed to hold with Morrel and his family, departed, murmuring as he went these lines of Pindar, “Youth is a flower of which love is the fruit; happy is he who, after having watched its silent growth, is permitted to gather and call it his own.” The carriage was prepared according to orders, and stepping lightly into it, the count drove off at his usual rapid pace. Chapter 50. The Morrel Family In a very few minutes the count reached No. 7 in the Rue Meslay. The house was of white stone, and in a small court before it were two small beds full of beautiful flowers. In the concierge that opened the gate the count recognized Cocles; but as he had but one eye, and that eye had become somewhat dim in the course of nine years, Cocles did not recognize the count. The carriages that drove up to the door were compelled to turn, to avoid a fountain that played in a basin of rockwork,—an ornament that had excited the jealousy of the whole quarter, and had gained for the place the appellation of _The Little Versailles_. It is needless to add that there were gold and silver fish in the basin. The house, with kitchens and cellars below, had above the ground floor, two stories and attics. The whole of the property, consisting of an immense workshop, two pavilions at the bottom of the garden, and the garden itself, had been purchased by Emmanuel, who had seen at a glance that he could make of it a profitable speculation. He had reserved the house and half the garden, and building a wall between the garden and the workshops, had let them upon lease with the pavilions at the bottom of the garden. So that for a trifling sum he was as well lodged, and as perfectly shut out from observation, as the inhabitants of the finest mansion in the Faubourg St. Germain. The breakfast-room was finished in oak; the salon in mahogany, and the furnishings were of blue velvet; the bedroom was in citronwood and green damask. There was a study for Emmanuel, who never studied, and a music-room for Julie, who never played. The whole of the second story was set apart for Maximilian; it was precisely similar to his sister’s apartments, except that for the breakfast-parlor he had a billiard-room, where he received his friends. He was superintending the grooming of his horse, and smoking his cigar at the entrance of the garden, when the count’s carriage stopped at the gate. Cocles opened the gate, and Baptistin, springing from the box, inquired whether Monsieur and Madame Herbault and Monsieur Maximilian Morrel would see his excellency the Count of Monte Cristo. “The Count of Monte Cristo?” cried Morrel, throwing away his cigar and hastening to the carriage; “I should think we would see him. Ah, a thousand thanks, count, for not having forgotten your promise.” And the young officer shook the count’s hand so warmly, that Monte Cristo could not be mistaken as to the sincerity of his joy, and he saw that he had been expected with impatience, and was received with pleasure. “Come, come,” said Maximilian, “I will serve as your guide; such a man as you are ought not to be introduced by a servant. My sister is in the garden plucking the dead roses; my brother is reading his two papers, _la Presse_ and _les Débats_, within six steps of her; for wherever you see Madame Herbault, you have only to look within a circle of four yards and you will find M. Emmanuel, and ‘reciprocally,’ as they say at the Polytechnic School.” At the sound of their steps a young woman of twenty to five-and-twenty, dressed in a silk morning gown, and busily engaged in plucking the dead leaves off a noisette rose-tree, raised her head. This was Julie, who had become, as the clerk of the house of Thomson & French had predicted, Madame Emmanuel Herbault. She uttered a cry of surprise at the sight of a stranger, and Maximilian began to laugh. “Don’t disturb yourself, Julie,” said he. “The count has only been two or three days in Paris, but he already knows what a fashionable woman of the Marais is, and if he does not, you will show him.” “Ah, monsieur,” returned Julie, “it is treason in my brother to bring you thus, but he never has any regard for his poor sister. Penelon, Penelon!” An old man, who was digging busily at one of the beds, stuck his spade in the earth, and approached, cap in hand, striving to conceal a quid of tobacco he had just thrust into his cheek. A few locks of gray mingled with his hair, which was still thick and matted, while his bronzed features and determined glance well suited an old sailor who had braved the heat of the equator and the storms of the tropics. “I think you hailed me, Mademoiselle Julie?” said he. Penelon had still preserved the habit of calling his master’s daughter “Mademoiselle Julie,” and had never been able to change the name to Madame Herbault. “Penelon,” replied Julie, “go and inform M. Emmanuel of this gentleman’s visit, and Maximilian will conduct him to the salon.” Then, turning to Monte Cristo,—“I hope you will permit me to leave you for a few minutes,” continued she; and without awaiting any reply, disappeared behind a clump of trees, and escaped to the house by a lateral alley. 30041m “I am sorry to see,” observed Monte Cristo to Morrel, “that I cause no small disturbance in your house.” “Look there,” said Maximilian, laughing; “there is her husband changing his jacket for a coat. I assure you, you are well known in the Rue Meslay.” “Your family appears to be a very happy one,” said the count, as if speaking to himself. “Oh, yes, I assure you, count, they want nothing that can render them happy; they are young and cheerful, they are tenderly attached to each other, and with twenty-five thousand francs a year they fancy themselves as rich as Rothschild.” “Five-and-twenty thousand francs is not a large sum, however,” replied Monte Cristo, with a tone so sweet and gentle, that it went to Maximilian’s heart like the voice of a father; “but they will not be content with that. Your brother-in-law is a barrister? a doctor?” “He was a merchant, monsieur, and had succeeded to the business of my poor father. M. Morrel, at his death, left 500,000 francs, which were divided between my sister and myself, for we were his only children. Her husband, who, when he married her, had no other patrimony than his noble probity, his first-rate ability, and his spotless reputation, wished to possess as much as his wife. He labored and toiled until he had amassed 250,000 francs; six years sufficed to achieve this object. Oh, I assure you, sir, it was a touching spectacle to see these young creatures, destined by their talents for higher stations, toiling together, and through their unwillingness to change any of the customs of their paternal house, taking six years to accomplish what less scrupulous people would have effected in two or three. Marseilles resounded with their well-earned praises. At last, one day, Emmanuel came to his wife, who had just finished making up the accounts. “‘Julie,’ said he to her, ‘Cocles has just given me the last rouleau of a hundred francs; that completes the 250,000 francs we had fixed as the limits of our gains. Can you content yourself with the small fortune which we shall possess for the future? Listen to me. Our house transacts business to the amount of a million a year, from which we derive an income of 40,000 francs. We can dispose of the business, if we please, in an hour, for I have received a letter from M. Delaunay, in which he offers to purchase the good-will of the house, to unite with his own, for 300,000 francs. Advise me what I had better do.’