Part 108

The curtain fell almost immediately after the entrance of Madame Danglars into her box, the band quitted the orchestra for the accustomed half-hour’s interval allowed between the acts, and the audience were left at liberty to promenade the salon or lobbies, or to pay and receive visits in their respective boxes. Morcerf and Château-Renaud were amongst the first to avail themselves of this permission. For an instant the idea struck Madame Danglars that this eagerness on the part of the young viscount arose from his impatience to join her party, and she whispered her expectations to her daughter, that Albert was hurrying to pay his respects to them. Mademoiselle Eugénie, however, merely returned a dissenting movement of the head, while, with a cold smile, she directed the attention of her mother to an opposite box on the first circle, in which sat the Countess G——, and where Morcerf had just made his appearance. 30087m “So we meet again, my travelling friend, do we?” cried the countess, extending her hand to him with all the warmth and cordiality of an old acquaintance; “it was really very good of you to recognize me so quickly, and still more so to bestow your first visit on me.” “Be assured,” replied Albert, “that if I had been aware of your arrival in Paris, and had known your address, I should have paid my respects to you before this. Allow me to introduce my friend, Baron de Château-Renaud, one of the few true gentlemen now to be found in France, and from whom I have just learned that you were a spectator of the races in the Champ-de-Mars, yesterday.” Château-Renaud bowed to the countess. “So you were at the races, baron?” inquired the countess eagerly. “Yes, madame.” “Well, then,” pursued Madame G—— with considerable animation, “you can probably tell me who won the Jockey Club stakes?” “I am sorry to say I cannot,” replied the baron; “and I was just asking the same question of Albert.” “Are you very anxious to know, countess?” asked Albert. “To know what?” “The name of the owner of the winning horse?” “Excessively; only imagine—but do tell me, viscount, whether you really are acquainted with it or no?” “I beg your pardon, madame, but you were about to relate some story, were you not? You said, ‘only imagine,’—and then paused. Pray continue.” “Well, then, listen. You must know I felt so interested in the splendid roan horse, with his elegant little rider, so tastefully dressed in a pink satin jacket and cap, that I could not help praying for their success with as much earnestness as though the half of my fortune were at stake; and when I saw them outstrip all the others, and come to the winning-post in such gallant style, I actually clapped my hands with joy. Imagine my surprise, when, upon returning home, the first object I met on the staircase was the identical jockey in the pink jacket! I concluded that, by some singular chance, the owner of the winning horse must live in the same hotel as myself; but, as I entered my apartments, I beheld the very gold cup awarded as a prize to the unknown horse and rider. Inside the cup was a small piece of paper, on which were written these words—‘From Lord Ruthven to Countess G——.’” “Precisely; I was sure of it,” said Morcerf. “Sure of what?” “That the owner of the horse was Lord Ruthven himself.” “What Lord Ruthven do you mean?” “Why, our Lord Ruthven—the Vampire of the Salle Argentina!” “Is it possible?” exclaimed the countess; “is he here in Paris?” “To be sure,—why not?” “And you visit him?—meet him at your own house and elsewhere?” “I assure you he is my most intimate friend, and M. de Château-Renaud has also the honor of his acquaintance.” “But why are you so sure of his being the winner of the Jockey Club prize?” “Was not the winning horse entered by the name of Vampa?” “What of that?” “Why, do you not recollect the name of the celebrated bandit by whom I was made prisoner?” “Oh, yes.” “And from whose hands the count extricated me in so wonderful a manner?” “To be sure, I remember it all now.” “He called himself Vampa. You see, it’s evident where the count got the name.” “But what could have been his motive for sending the cup to me?” “In the first place, because I had spoken much of you to him, as you may believe; and in the second, because he delighted to see a countrywoman take so lively an interest in his success.” “I trust and hope you never repeated to the count all the foolish remarks we used to make about him?” “I should not like to affirm upon oath that I have not. Besides, his presenting you the cup under the name of Lord Ruthven——” “Oh, but that is dreadful! Why, the man must owe me a fearful grudge.” “Does his action appear like that of an enemy?” “No; certainly not.” “Well, then——” “And so he is in Paris?” “Yes.” “And what effect does he produce?” “Why,” said Albert, “he was talked about for a week; then the coronation of the queen of England took place, followed by the theft of Mademoiselle Mars’s diamonds; and so people talked of something else.” “My good fellow,” said Château-Renaud, “the count is your friend and you treat him accordingly. Do not believe what Albert is telling you, countess; so far from the sensation excited in the Parisian circles by the appearance of the Count of Monte Cristo having abated, I take upon myself to declare that it is as strong as ever. His first astounding act upon coming amongst us was to present a pair of horses, worth 32,000 francs, to Madame Danglars; his second, the almost miraculous preservation of Madame de Villefort’s life; now it seems that he has carried off the prize awarded by the Jockey Club. I therefore maintain, in spite of Morcerf, that not only is the count the object of interest at this present moment, but also that he will continue to be so for a month longer if he pleases to exhibit an eccentricity of conduct which, after all, may be his ordinary mode of existence.” “Perhaps you are right,” said Morcerf; “meanwhile, who is in the Russian ambassador’s box?” “Which box do you mean?” asked the countess. “The one between the pillars on the first tier—it seems to have been fitted up entirely afresh.” “Did you observe anyone during the first act?” asked Château-Renaud. “Where?” “In that box.” “No,” replied the countess, “it was certainly empty during the first act;” then, resuming the subject of their previous conversation, she said, “And so you really believe it was your mysterious Count of Monte Cristo that gained the prize?” “I am sure of it.” “And who afterwards sent the cup to me?” “Undoubtedly.” “But I don’t know him,” said the countess; “I have a great mind to return it.” “Do no such thing, I beg of you; he would only send you another, formed of a magnificent sapphire, or hollowed out of a gigantic ruby. It is his way, and you must take him as you find him.” At this moment the bell rang to announce the drawing up of the curtain for the second act. Albert rose to return to his place. “Shall I see you again?” asked the countess. “At the end of the next act, with your permission, I will come and inquire whether there is anything I can do for you in Paris?” “Pray take notice,” said the countess, “that my present residence is 22 Rue de Rivoli, and that I am at home to my friends every Saturday evening. So now, you are both forewarned.” The young men bowed, and quitted the box. Upon reaching their stalls, they found the whole of the audience in the parterre standing up and directing their gaze towards the box formerly possessed by the Russian ambassador. A man of from thirty-five to forty years of age, dressed in deep black, had just entered, accompanied by a young woman dressed after the Eastern style. The lady was surpassingly beautiful, while the rich magnificence of her attire drew all eyes upon her. “Hullo,” said Albert; “it is Monte Cristo and his Greek!” The strangers were, indeed, no other than the count and Haydée. In a few moments the young girl had attracted the attention of the whole house, and even the occupants of the boxes leaned forward to scrutinize her magnificent diamonds. The second act passed away during one continued buzz of voices—one deep whisper—intimating that some great and universally interesting event had occurred; all eyes, all thoughts, were occupied with the young and beautiful woman, whose gorgeous apparel and splendid jewels made a most extraordinary spectacle. Upon this occasion an unmistakable sign from Madame Danglars intimated her desire to see Albert in her box directly the curtain fell on the second act, and neither the politeness nor good taste of Morcerf would permit his neglecting an invitation so unequivocally given. At the close of the act he therefore went to the baroness. Having bowed to the two ladies, he extended his hand to Debray. By the baroness he was most graciously welcomed, while Eugénie received him with her accustomed coldness. “My dear fellow,” said Debray, “you have come in the nick of time. There is madame overwhelming me with questions respecting the count; she insists upon it that I can tell her his birth, education, and parentage, where he came from, and whither he is going. Being no disciple of Cagliostro, I was wholly unable to do this; so, by way of getting out of the scrape, I said, ‘Ask Morcerf; he has got the whole history of his beloved Monte Cristo at his fingers’ ends;’ whereupon the baroness signified her desire to see you.” “Is it not almost incredible,” said Madame Danglars, “that a person having at least half a million of secret-service money at his command, should possess so little information?” “Let me assure you, madame,” said Lucien, “that had I really the sum you mention at my disposal, I would employ it more profitably than in troubling myself to obtain particulars respecting the Count of Monte Cristo, whose only merit in my eyes consists in his being twice as rich as a nabob. However, I have turned the business over to Morcerf, so pray settle it with him as may be most agreeable to you; for my own part, I care nothing about the count or his mysterious doings.” 30093m “I am very sure no nabob would have sent me a pair of horses worth 32,000 francs, wearing on their heads four diamonds valued at 5,000 francs each.” “He seems to have a mania for diamonds,” said Morcerf, smiling, “and I verily believe that, like Potemkin, he keeps his pockets filled, for the sake of strewing them along the road, as Tom Thumb did his flint stones.” “Perhaps he has discovered some mine,” said Madame Danglars. “I suppose you know he has an order for unlimited credit on the baron’s banking establishment?” “I was not aware of it,” replied Albert, “but I can readily believe it.” “And, further, that he stated to M. Danglars his intention of only staying a year in Paris, during which time he proposed to spend six millions. “He must be the Shah of Persia, travelling _incog_.” “Have you noticed the remarkable beauty of the young woman, M. Lucien?” inquired Eugénie. “I really never met with one woman so ready to do justice to the charms of another as yourself,” responded Lucien, raising his lorgnette to his eye. “A most lovely creature, upon my soul!” was his verdict. “Who is this young person, M. de Morcerf?” inquired Eugénie; “does anybody know?” “Mademoiselle,” said Albert, replying to this direct appeal, “I can give you very exact information on that subject, as well as on most points relative to the mysterious person of whom we are now conversing—the young woman is a Greek.” “So I should suppose by her dress; if you know no more than that, everyone here is as well-informed as yourself.” “I am extremely sorry you find me so ignorant a _cicerone_,” replied Morcerf, “but I am reluctantly obliged to confess, I have nothing further to communicate—yes, stay, I do know one thing more, namely, that she is a musician, for one day when I chanced to be breakfasting with the count, I heard the sound of a guzla—it is impossible that it could have been touched by any other finger than her own.”