Part 174

“It is astonishing,” said he. “Look, Emmanuel.” Then turning towards Monte Cristo, “Count,” said he, “in the name of all that is dear to you, I entreat you not to kill Albert!—the unhappy youth has a mother.” “You are right,” said Monte Cristo; “and I have none.” These words were uttered in a tone which made Morrel shudder. “You are the offended party, count.” “Doubtless; what does that imply?” “That you will fire first.” “I fire first?” “Oh, I obtained, or rather claimed that; we had conceded enough for them to yield us that.” “And at what distance?” “Twenty paces.” A smile of terrible import passed over the count’s lips. “Morrel,” said he, “do not forget what you have just seen.” “The only chance for Albert’s safety, then, will arise from your emotion.” “I suffer from emotion?” said Monte Cristo. “Or from your generosity, my friend; to so good a marksman as you are, I may say what would appear absurd to another.” “What is that?” “Break his arm—wound him—but do not kill him.” “I will tell you, Morrel,” said the count, “that I do not need entreating to spare the life of M. de Morcerf; he shall be so well spared, that he will return quietly with his two friends, while I——” “And you?” “That will be another thing; I shall be brought home.” “No, no,” cried Maximilian, quite unable to restrain his feelings. “As I told you, my dear Morrel, M. de Morcerf will kill me.” Morrel looked at him in utter amazement. “But what has happened, then, since last evening, count?” “The same thing that happened to Brutus the night before the battle of Philippi; I have seen a ghost.” “And that ghost——” “Told me, Morrel, that I had lived long enough.” Maximilian and Emmanuel looked at each other. Monte Cristo drew out his watch. “Let us go,” said he; “it is five minutes past seven, and the appointment was for eight o’clock.” A carriage was in readiness at the door. Monte Cristo stepped into it with his two friends. He had stopped a moment in the passage to listen at a door, and Maximilian and Emmanuel, who had considerately passed forward a few steps, thought they heard him answer by a sigh to a sob from within. As the clock struck eight they drove up to the place of meeting. “We are first,” said Morrel, looking out of the window. “Excuse me, sir,” said Baptistin, who had followed his master with indescribable terror, “but I think I see a carriage down there under the trees.” Monte Cristo sprang lightly from the carriage, and offered his hand to assist Emmanuel and Maximilian. The latter retained the count’s hand between his. “I like,” said he, “to feel a hand like this, when its owner relies on the goodness of his cause.” “It seems to me,” said Emmanuel, “that I see two young men down there, who are evidently, waiting.” Monte Cristo drew Morrel a step or two behind his brother-in-law. “Maximilian,” said he, “are your affections disengaged?” Morrel looked at Monte Cristo with astonishment. “I do not seek your confidence, my dear friend. I only ask you a simple question; answer it;—that is all I require.” “I love a young girl, count.” “Do you love her much?” “More than my life.” “Another hope defeated!” said the count. Then, with a sigh, “Poor Haydée!” murmured he. “To tell the truth, count, if I knew less of you, I should think that you were less brave than you are.” “Because I sigh when thinking of someone I am leaving? Come, Morrel, it is not like a soldier to be so bad a judge of courage. Do I regret life? What is it to me, who have passed twenty years between life and death? Moreover, do not alarm yourself, Morrel; this weakness, if it is such, is betrayed to you alone. I know the world is a drawing-room, from which we must retire politely and honestly; that is, with a bow, and our debts of honor paid.” “That is to the purpose. Have you brought your arms?” “I?—what for? I hope these gentlemen have theirs.” “I will inquire,” said Morrel. “Do; but make no treaty—you understand me?” “You need not fear.” Morrel advanced towards Beauchamp and Château-Renaud, who, seeing his intention, came to meet him. The three young men bowed to each other courteously, if not affably. “Excuse me, gentlemen,” said Morrel, “but I do not see M. de Morcerf.” “He sent us word this morning,” replied Château-Renaud, “that he would meet us on the ground.” “Ah,” said Morrel. Beauchamp pulled out his watch. “It is only five minutes past eight,” said he to Morrel; “there is not much time lost yet.” “Oh, I made no allusion of that kind,” replied Morrel. “There is a carriage coming,” said Château-Renaud. It advanced rapidly along one of the avenues leading towards the open space where they were assembled. “You are doubtless provided with pistols, gentlemen? M. de Monte Cristo yields his right of using his.” “We had anticipated this kindness on the part of the count,” said Beauchamp, “and I have brought some weapons which I bought eight or ten days since, thinking to want them on a similar occasion. They are quite new, and have not yet been used. Will you examine them.” “Oh, M. Beauchamp, if you assure me that M. de Morcerf does not know these pistols, you may readily believe that your word will be quite sufficient.” “Gentlemen,” said Château-Renaud, “it is not Morcerf coming in that carriage;—faith, it is Franz and Debray!” The two young men he announced were indeed approaching. “What chance brings you here, gentlemen?” said Château-Renaud, shaking hands with each of them. “Because,” said Debray, “Albert sent this morning to request us to come.” Beauchamp and Château-Renaud exchanged looks of astonishment. “I think I understand his reason,” said Morrel. “What is it?” “Yesterday afternoon I received a letter from M. de Morcerf, begging me to attend the Opera.” “And I,” said Debray. “And I also,” said Franz. “And we, too,” added Beauchamp and Château-Renaud. “Having wished you all to witness the challenge, he now wishes you to be present at the combat.” “Exactly so,” said the young men; “you have probably guessed right.” “But, after all these arrangements, he does not come himself,” said Château-Renaud. “Albert is ten minutes after time.” “There he comes,” said Beauchamp, “on horseback, at full gallop, followed by a servant.” “How imprudent,” said Château-Renaud, “to come on horseback to fight a duel with pistols, after all the instructions I had given him.” “And besides,” said Beauchamp, “with a collar above his cravat, an open coat and white waistcoat! Why has he not painted a spot upon his heart?—it would have been more simple.” Meanwhile Albert had arrived within ten paces of the group formed by the five young men. He jumped from his horse, threw the bridle on his servant’s arms, and joined them. He was pale, and his eyes were red and swollen; it was evident that he had not slept. A shade of melancholy gravity overspread his countenance, which was not natural to him. “I thank you, gentlemen,” said he, “for having complied with my request; I feel extremely grateful for this mark of friendship.” Morrel had stepped back as Morcerf approached, and remained at a short distance. “And to you also, M. Morrel, my thanks are due. Come, there cannot be too many.” 40248m “Sir,” said Maximilian, “you are not perhaps aware that I am M. de Monte Cristo’s friend?” “I was not sure, but I thought it might be so. So much the better; the more honorable men there are here the better I shall be satisfied.” “M. Morrel,” said Château-Renaud, “will you apprise the Count of Monte Cristo that M. de Morcerf is arrived, and we are at his disposal?” Morrel was preparing to fulfil his commission. Beauchamp had meanwhile drawn the box of pistols from the carriage. “Stop, gentlemen,” said Albert; “I have two words to say to the Count of Monte Cristo.” “In private?” asked Morrel. “No, sir; before all who are here.” Albert’s witnesses looked at each other. Franz and Debray exchanged some words in a whisper, and Morrel, rejoiced at this unexpected incident, went to fetch the count, who was walking in a retired path with Emmanuel. “What does he want with me?” said Monte Cristo. “I do not know, but he wishes to speak to you.” “Ah?” said Monte Cristo, “I trust he is not going to tempt me by some fresh insult!” “I do not think that such is his intention,” said Morrel. The count advanced, accompanied by Maximilian and Emmanuel. His calm and serene look formed a singular contrast to Albert’s grief-stricken face, who approached also, followed by the other four young men. When at three paces distant from each other, Albert and the count stopped. “Approach, gentlemen,” said Albert; “I wish you not to lose one word of what I am about to have the honor of saying to the Count of Monte Cristo, for it must be repeated by you to all who will listen to it, strange as it may appear to you.” “Proceed, sir,” said the count. “Sir,” said Albert, at first with a tremulous voice, but which gradually became firmer, “I reproached you with exposing the conduct of M. de Morcerf in Epirus, for guilty as I knew he was, I thought you had no right to punish him; but I have since learned that you had that right. It is not Fernand Mondego’s treachery towards Ali Pasha which induces me so readily to excuse you, but the treachery of the fisherman Fernand towards you, and the almost unheard-of miseries which were its consequences; and I say, and proclaim it publicly, that you were justified in revenging yourself on my father, and I, his son, thank you for not using greater severity.” Had a thunderbolt fallen in the midst of the spectators of this unexpected scene, it would not have surprised them more than did Albert’s declaration. As for Monte Cristo, his eyes slowly rose towards heaven with an expression of infinite gratitude. He could not understand how Albert’s fiery nature, of which he had seen so much among the Roman bandits, had suddenly stooped to this humiliation. He recognized the influence of Mercédès, and saw why her noble heart had not opposed the sacrifice she knew beforehand would be useless. “Now, sir,” said Albert, “if you think my apology sufficient, pray give me your hand. Next to the merit of infallibility which you appear to possess, I rank that of candidly acknowledging a fault. But this confession concerns me only. I acted well as a man, but you have acted better than man. An angel alone could have saved one of us from death—that angel came from heaven, if not to make us friends (which, alas, fatality renders impossible), at least to make us esteem each other.” Monte Cristo, with moistened eye, heaving breast, and lips half open, extended to Albert a hand which the latter pressed with a sentiment resembling respectful fear. “Gentlemen,” said he, “M. de Monte Cristo receives my apology. I had acted hastily towards him. Hasty actions are generally bad ones. Now my fault is repaired. I hope the world will not call me cowardly for acting as my conscience dictated. But if anyone should entertain a false opinion of me,” added he, drawing himself up as if he would challenge both friends and enemies, “I shall endeavor to correct his mistake.” “What happened during the night?” asked Beauchamp of Château-Renaud; “we appear to make a very sorry figure here.” “In truth, what Albert has just done is either very despicable or very noble,” replied the baron. “What can it mean?” said Debray to Franz. “The Count of Monte Cristo acts dishonorably to M. de Morcerf, and is justified by his son! Had I ten Yaninas in my family, I should only consider myself the more bound to fight ten times.” As for Monte Cristo, his head was bent down, his arms were powerless. Bowing under the weight of twenty-four years’ reminiscences, he thought not of Albert, of Beauchamp, of Château-Renaud, or of any of that group; but he thought of that courageous woman who had come to plead for her son’s life, to whom he had offered his, and who had now saved it by the revelation of a dreadful family secret, capable of destroying forever in that young man’s heart every feeling of filial piety.