M. and Madame de Villefort found on their return that the Count of Monte
Cristo, who had come to visit them in their absence, had been ushered
into the drawing-room, and was still awaiting them there. Madame de
Villefort, who had not yet sufficiently recovered from her late emotion
to allow of her entertaining visitors so immediately, retired to her
bedroom, while the procureur, who could better depend upon himself,
proceeded at once to the salon. Although M. de Villefort flattered
himself that, to all outward view, he had completely masked the feelings
which were passing in his mind, he did not know that the cloud was
still lowering on his brow, so much so that the count, whose smile was
radiant, immediately noticed his sombre and thoughtful air. "Ma foi,"
said Monte Cristo, after the first compliments were over, "what is the
matter with you, M. de Villefort? Have I arrived at the moment when you
were drawing up an indictment for a capital crime?" Villefort tried to
smile. "No, count," he replied, "I am the only victim in this case. It
is I who lose my cause, and it is ill-luck, obstinacy, and folly which
have caused it to be decided against me."
"To what do you refer?" said Monte Cristo with well-feigned interest.
"Have you really met with some great misfortune?"
"Oh, no, monsieur," said Villefort with a bitter smile; "it is only a
loss of money which I have sustained--nothing worth mentioning, I assure
you."
"True," said Monte Cristo, "the loss of a sum of money becomes almost
immaterial with a fortune such as you possess, and to one of your
philosophic spirit."
"It is not so much the loss of the money that vexes me," said Villefort,
"though, after all, 900,000 francs are worth regretting; but I am the
more annoyed with this fate, chance, or whatever you please to call the
power which has destroyed my hopes and my fortune, and may blast the
prospects of my child also, as it is all occasioned by an old man
relapsed into second childhood."
"What do you say?" said the count; "900,000 francs? It is indeed a sum
which might be regretted even by a philosopher. And who is the cause of
all this annoyance?"
"My father, as I told you."
"M. Noirtier? But I thought you told me he had become entirely
paralyzed, and that all his faculties were completely destroyed?"
"Yes, his bodily faculties, for he can neither move nor speak,
nevertheless he thinks, acts, and wills in the manner I have described.
I left him about five minutes ago, and he is now occupied in dictating
his will to two notaries."
"But to do this he must have spoken?"
"He has done better than that--he has made himself understood."
"How was such a thing possible?"
"By the help of his eyes, which are still full of life, and, as you
perceive, possess the power of inflicting mortal injury."
"My dear," said Madame de Villefort, who had just entered the room,
"perhaps you exaggerate the evil."
"Good-morning, madame," said the count, bowing. Madame de Villefort
acknowledged the salutation with one of her most gracious smiles. "What
is this that M. de Villefort has been telling me?" demanded Monte Cristo
"and what incomprehensible misfortune"--
"Incomprehensible is not the word," interrupted the procureur, shrugging
his shoulders. "It is an old man's caprice."
"And is there no means of making him revoke his decision?"
"Yes," said Madame de Villefort; "and it is still entirely in the power
of my husband to cause the will, which is now in prejudice of Valentine,
to be altered in her favor." The count, who perceived that M. and Madame
de Villefort were beginning to speak in parables, appeared to pay no
attention to the conversation, and feigned to be busily engaged in
watching Edward, who was mischievously pouring some ink into the bird's
water-glass. "My dear," said Villefort, in answer to his wife, "you know
I have never been accustomed to play the patriarch in my family, nor
have I ever considered that the fate of a universe was to be decided by
my nod. Nevertheless, it is necessary that my will should be respected
in my family, and that the folly of an old man and the caprice of
a child should not be allowed to overturn a project which I have
entertained for so many years. The Baron d'Epinay was my friend, as you
know, and an alliance with his son is the most suitable thing that could
possibly be arranged."
"Do you think," said Madame de Villefort, "that Valentine is in league
with him? She has always been opposed to this marriage, and I should not
be at all surprised if what we have just seen and heard is nothing but
the execution of a plan concerted between them."
"Madame," said Villefort, "believe me, a fortune of 900,000. francs is
not so easily renounced."
"She could, nevertheless, make up her mind to renounce the world, sir,
since it is only about a year ago that she herself proposed entering a
convent."
"Never mind," replied Villefort; "I say that this marriage shall be
consummated."
"Notwithstanding your father's wishes to the contrary?" said Madame de
Villefort, selecting a new point of attack. "That is a serious thing."
Monte Cristo, who pretended not to be listening, heard however, every
word that was said. "Madame," replied Villefort "I can truly say that
I have always entertained a high respect for my father, because, to the
natural feeling of relationship was added the consciousness of his moral
superiority. The name of father is sacred in two senses; he should be
reverenced as the author of our being and as a master whom we ought to
obey. But, under the present circumstances, I am justified in doubting
the wisdom of an old man who, because he hated the father, vents his
anger on the son. It would be ridiculous in me to regulate my conduct
by such caprices. I shall still continue to preserve the same respect
toward M. Noirtier; I will suffer, without complaint, the pecuniary
deprivation to which he has subjected me; but I shall remain firm in
my determination, and the world shall see which party has reason on
his side. Consequently I shall marry my daughter to the Baron Franz
d'Epinay, because I consider it would be a proper and eligible match
for her to make, and, in short, because I choose to bestow my daughter's
hand on whomever I please."
"What?" said the count, the approbation of whose eye Villefort had
frequently solicited during this speech. "What? Do you say that M.
Noirtier disinherits Mademoiselle de Villefort because she is going to
marry M. le Baron Franz d'Epinay?"
"Yes, sir, that is the reason," said Villefort, shrugging his shoulders.
"The apparent reason, at least," said Madame de Villefort.
"The real reason, madame, I can assure you; I know my father."
"But I want to know in what way M. d'Epinay can have displeased your
father more than any other person?"
"I believe I know M. Franz d'Epinay," said the count; "is he not the son
of General de Quesnel, who was created Baron d'Epinay by Charles X.?"
"The same," said Villefort.
"Well, but he is a charming young man, according to my ideas."
"He is, which makes me believe that it is only an excuse of M. Noirtier
to prevent his granddaughter marrying; old men are always so selfish in
their affection," said Madame de Villefort.
"But," said Monte Cristo "do you not know any cause for this hatred?"
"Ah, ma foi, who is to know?"
"Perhaps it is some political difference?"
"My father and the Baron d'Epinay lived in the stormy times of which I
only saw the ending," said Villefort.
"Was not your father a Bonapartist?" asked Monte Cristo; "I think I
remember that you told me something of that kind."
"My father has been a Jacobin more than anything else," said Villefort,
carried by his emotion beyond the bounds of prudence; "and the senator's
robe, which Napoleon cast on his shoulders, only served to disguise the
old man without in any degree changing him. When my father conspired,
it was not for the emperor, it was against the Bourbons; for M. Noirtier
possessed this peculiarity, he never projected any Utopian schemes which
could never be realized, but strove for possibilities, and he applied
to the realization of these possibilities the terrible theories of The
Mountain,--theories that never shrank from any means that were deemed
necessary to bring about the desired result."
"Well," said Monte Cristo, "it is just as I thought; it was politics
which brought Noirtier and M. d'Epinay into personal contact. Although
General d'Epinay served under Napoleon, did he not still retain royalist
sentiments? And was he not the person who was assassinated one evening
on leaving a Bonapartist meeting to which he had been invited on the
supposition that he favored the cause of the emperor?" Villefort looked
at the count almost with terror. "Am I mistaken, then?" said Monte
Cristo.
"No, sir, the facts were precisely what you have stated," said Madame
de Villefort; "and it was to prevent the renewal of old feuds that M. de
Villefort formed the idea of uniting in the bonds of affection the two
children of these inveterate enemies."
"It was a sublime and charitable thought," said Monte Cristo, "and the
whole world should applaud it. It would be noble to see Mademoiselle
Noirtier de Villefort assuming the title of Madame Franz d'Epinay."
Villefort shuddered and looked at Monte Cristo as if he wished to read
in his countenance the real feelings which had dictated the words he
had just uttered. But the count completely baffled the procureur, and
prevented him from discovering anything beneath the never-varying
smile he was so constantly in the habit of assuming. "Although,"
said Villefort, "it will be a serious thing for Valentine to lose
her grandfather's fortune, I do not think that M. d'Epinay will be
frightened at this pecuniary loss. He will, perhaps, hold me in greater
esteem than the money itself, seeing that I sacrifice everything in
order to keep my word with him. Besides, he knows that Valentine is rich
in right of her mother, and that she will, in all probability, inherit
the fortune of M. and Madame de Saint-Meran, her mother's parents, who
both love her tenderly."
"And who are fully as well worth loving and tending as M. Noirtier,"
said Madame de Villefort; "besides, they are to come to Paris in about
a month, and Valentine, after the affront she has received, need not
consider it necessary to continue to bury herself alive by being shut up
with M. Noirtier." The count listened with satisfaction to this tale
of wounded self-love and defeated ambition. "But it seems to me," said
Monte Cristo, "and I must begin by asking your pardon for what I am
about to say, that if M. Noirtier disinherits Mademoiselle de Villefort
because she is going to marry a man whose father he detested, he cannot
have the same cause of complaint against this dear Edward."
"True," said Madame de Villefort, with an intonation of voice which it
is impossible to describe; "is it not unjust--shamefully unjust? Poor
Edward is as much M. Noirtier's grandchild as Valentine, and yet, if she
had not been going to marry M. Franz, M. Noirtier would have left
her all his money; and supposing Valentine to be disinherited by her
grandfather, she will still be three times richer than he." The count
listened and said no more. "Count," said Villefort, "we will not
entertain you any longer with our family misfortunes. It is true that my
patrimony will go to endow charitable institutions, and my father will
have deprived me of my lawful inheritance without any reason for doing
so, but I shall have the satisfaction of knowing that I have acted like
a man of sense and feeling. M. d'Epinay, to whom I had promised the
interest of this sum, shall receive it, even if I endure the most cruel
privations."
"However," said Madame de Villefort, returning to the one idea which
incessantly occupied her mind, "perhaps it would be better to explain
this unlucky affair to M. d'Epinay, in order to give him the opportunity
of himself renouncing his claim to the hand of Mademoiselle de
Villefort."
"Ah, that would be a great pity," said Villefort.
"A great pity," said Monte Cristo.
"Undoubtedly," said Villefort, moderating the tones of his voice, "a
marriage once concerted and then broken off, throws a sort of discredit
on a young lady; then again, the old reports, which I was so anxious to
put an end to, will instantly gain ground. No, it will all go well; M.
d'Epinay, if he is an honorable man, will consider himself more than
ever pledged to Mademoiselle de Villefort, unless he were actuated by a
decided feeling of avarice, but that is impossible."
"I agree with M. de Villefort," said Monte Cristo, fixing his eyes on
Madame de Villefort; "and if I were sufficiently intimate with him to
allow of giving my advice, I would persuade him, since I have been told
M. d'Epinay is coming back, to settle this affair at once beyond all
possibility of revocation. I will answer for the success of a project
which will reflect so much honor on M. de Villefort." The procureur
arose, delighted with the proposition, but his wife slightly changed
color. "Well, that is all that I wanted, and I will be guided by a
counsellor such as you are," said he, extending his hand to Monte
Cristo. "Therefore let every one here look upon what has passed to-day
as if it had not happened, and as though we had never thought of such a
thing as a change in our original plans."
"Sir," said the count, "the world, unjust as it is, will be pleased with
your resolution; your friends will be proud of you, and M. d'Epinay,
even if he took Mademoiselle de Villefort without any dowry, which he
will not do, would be delighted with the idea of entering a family
which could make such sacrifices in order to keep a promise and fulfil a
duty." At the conclusion of these words, the count rose to depart. "Are
you going to leave us, count?" said Madame de Villefort.
"I am sorry to say I must do so, madame, I only came to remind you of
your promise for Saturday."
"Did you fear that we should forget it?"
"You are very good, madame, but M. de Villefort has so many important
and urgent occupations."
"My husband has given me his word, sir," said Madame de Villefort; "you
have just seen him resolve to keep it when he has everything to lose,
and surely there is more reason for his doing so where he has everything
to gain."
"And," said Villefort, "is it at your house in the Champs-Elysees that
you receive your visitors?"
"No," said Monte Cristo, "which is precisely the reason which renders
your kindness more meritorious,--it is in the country."
"In the country?"
"Yes."
"Where is it, then? Near Paris, is it not?"
"Very near, only half a league from the Barriers,--it is at Auteuil."
"At Auteuil?" said Villefort; "true, Madame de Villefort told me you
lived at Auteuil, since it was to your house that she was taken. And in
what part of Auteuil do you reside?"
"Rue de la Fontaine."
"Rue de la Fontaine!" exclaimed Villefort in an agitated tone; "at what
number?"
"No. 28."
"Then," cried Villefort, "was it you who bought M. de Saint-Meran's
house!"
"Did it belong to M. de Saint-Meran?" demanded Monte Cristo.
"Yes," replied Madame de Villefort; "and, would you believe it, count"--
"Believe what?"
"You think this house pretty, do you not?"
"I think it charming."
"Well, my husband would never live in it."
"Indeed?" returned Monte Cristo, "that is a prejudice on your part, M.
de Villefort, for which I am quite at a loss to account."
"I do not like Auteuil, sir," said the procureur, making an evident
effort to appear calm.
"But I hope you will not carry your antipathy so far as to deprive me of
the pleasure of your company, sir," said Monte Cristo.
"No, count,--I hope--I assure you I shall do my best," stammered
Villefort.
"Oh," said Monte Cristo, "I allow of no excuse. On Saturday, at six
o'clock. I shall be expecting you, and if you fail to come, I shall
think--for how do I know to the contrary?--that this house, which his
remained uninhabited for twenty years, must have some gloomy tradition
or dreadful legend connected with it."
"I will come, count,--I will be sure to come," said Villefort eagerly.
"Thank you," said Monte Cristo; "now you must permit me to take my leave
of you."
"You said before that you were obliged to leave us, monsieur," said
Madame de Villefort, "and you were about to tell us why when your
attention was called to some other subject."
"Indeed madame," said Monte Cristo: "I scarcely know if I dare tell you
where I am going."
"Nonsense; say on."
"Well, then, it is to see a thing on which I have sometimes mused for
hours together."
"What is it?"
"A telegraph. So now I have told my secret."
"A telegraph?" repeated Madame de Villefort.
"Yes, a telegraph. I had often seen one placed at the end of a road on
a hillock, and in the light of the sun its black arms, bending in every
direction, always reminded me of the claws of an immense beetle, and I
assure you it was never without emotion that I gazed on it, for I could
not help thinking how wonderful it was that these various signs should
be made to cleave the air with such precision as to convey to the
distance of three hundred leagues the ideas and wishes of a man sitting
at a table at one end of the line to another man similarly placed at the
opposite extremity, and all this effected by a simple act of volition
on the part of the sender of the message. I began to think of genii,
sylphs, gnomes, in short, of all the ministers of the occult sciences,
until I laughed aloud at the freaks of my own imagination. Now, it never
occurred to me to wish for a nearer inspection of these large insects,
with their long black claws, for I always feared to find under their
stone wings some little human genius fagged to death with cabals,
factions, and government intrigues. But one fine day I learned that the
mover of this telegraph was only a poor wretch, hired for twelve hundred
francs a year, and employed all day, not in studying the heavens like
an astronomer, or in gazing on the water like an angler, or even in
enjoying the privilege of observing the country around him, but all his
monotonous life was passed in watching his white-bellied, black-clawed
fellow insect, four or five leagues distant from him. At length I felt
a desire to study this living chrysalis more closely, and to endeavor
to understand the secret part played by these insect-actors when they
occupy themselves simply with pulling different pieces of string."
"And are you going there?"
"I am."
"What telegraph do you intend visiting? that of the home department, or
of the observatory?"
"Oh, no; I should find there people who would force me to understand
things of which I would prefer to remain ignorant, and who would try
to explain to me, in spite of myself, a mystery which even they do
not understand. Ma foi, I should wish to keep my illusions concerning
insects unimpaired; it is quite enough to have those dissipated which I
had formed of my fellow-creatures. I shall, therefore, not visit either
of these telegraphs, but one in the open country where I shall find
a good-natured simpleton, who knows no more than the machine he is
employed to work."
"You are a singular man," said Villefort.
"What line would you advise me to study?"
"The one that is most in use just at this time."
"The Spanish one, you mean, I suppose?"
"Yes; should you like a letter to the minister that they might explain
to you"--
"No," said Monte Cristo; "since, as I told you before, I do not wish to
comprehend it. The moment I understand it there will no longer exist a
telegraph for me; it will be nothing more than a sign from M. Duchatel,
or from M. Montalivet, transmitted to the prefect of Bayonne, mystified
by two Greek words, tele, graphein. It is the insect with black claws,
and the awful word which I wish to retain in my imagination in all its
purity and all its importance."
"Go then; for in the course of two hours it will be dark, and you will
not be able to see anything."
"Ma foi, you frighten me. Which is the nearest way? Bayonne?"
"Yes; the road to Bayonne."
"And afterwards the road to Chatillon?"
"Yes."
"By the tower of Montlhery, you mean?"
"Yes."
"Thank you. Good-by. On Saturday I will tell you my impressions
concerning the telegraph." At the door the count was met by the two
notaries, who had just completed the act which was to disinherit
Valentine, and who were leaving under the conviction of having done a
thing which could not fail of redounding considerably to their credit.
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