E-Book- The Count of Monte Cristo

About the Book- The Count of Monte Cristo

2008-04-20T12:47:00.001-07:00

The Count of Monte Cristo (French: Le Comte de Monte-Cristo) is an adventure novel by Alexandre Dumas. It is often considered, along with The Three Musketeers, as Dumas' most popular work. It is also among the highest selling books of all time. The writing of the work was completed in 1844. Like many of his novels, it is expanded from the plot outlines suggested by his collaborating ghostwriter Auguste Maquet.[1]

The story takes place in France, Italy, islands in the Mediterranean and the Levant during the historical events of 1815–1838 (from just before the Hundred Days through the reign of Louis-Philippe of France). The historical setting is a fundamental element of the book. It is primarily concerned with themes of hope, justice, vengeance, mercy, and forgiveness, and is told in the style of an adventure story.

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Characters

There are a large number of characters in this book, and the importance of many of the characters is not immediately obvious. Furthermore, the characters' fates are often so inter-woven that their stories overlap significantly.

Edmond Dantès and his aliases

* Edmond Dantès (b. 1796) — Dantès is initially a generally well-liked sailor who is unexperienced - but not in his profession - and seems to have everything going for him, including a beautiful fiancée (Mercédès) and an impending promotion to ship's captain. After transforming into the Count of Monte Cristo, his original name is revealed to his main enemies only as each revenge is completed, often driving his already weakened victims into despair.

* Number 34 — Early in Dantès' stay in prison, the governor of the Château d'If is replaced. This governor does not feel it is worth his time to learn the names of all the prisoners, and instead chooses to refer to them by the numbers of their cells. Thus, Dantès is called Number 34 during his imprisonment.

* Chief Clerk of Thomson and French — Shortly after Edmond escapes and learns of Morrel's sorry state of affairs, he disguises himself as an English senior agent of the banking firm of Thomson and French, with whom Morrel deals, and in this form sees Morrel for the first time in fifteen years. Precise and formal, this persona is a phlegmatic, serious banking officer.

* Count of Monte Cristo — The persona that Edmond assumes when he escapes from his incarceration and while he carries out his dreadful vengeance. This persona is marked by a pale countenance and a smile which can be diabolical or angelic. Educated and mysterious, this alias is trusted in Paris and fascinates the people.

* Lord Wilmore — The English persona in which Dantès performs seemingly random acts of generosity. The Englishman is eccentric and refuses to speak French. This eccentric man, in his kindness, is almost the opposite of the Count of Monte Cristo and accordingly the two are supposed to be enemies.

* Sinbad the Sailor — The persona that Edmond assumes when he saves the Morrel family. Edmond signs a letter to Mlle Julie using this persona, which was accompanied by a large diamond and a red satin purse. (Sinbad the sailor is the common English translation of the original French Simbad le marin.)

* Abbé Busoni — The persona that Edmond puts forth when he needs deep trust from others because the name itself demands respect via religious authority.

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Dantès's allies

* Abbé Faria — Italian priest and sage; befriends Edmond while both are prisoners in the Château d'If, acts as a father for Edmond Dantès as he said once "I can have my revenge thanks to you my second father", and reveals the secret of the island of Monte Cristo to Edmond. Becomes the surrogate father of Edmond, while imprisoned, digging a tunnel to freedom he educates Edmond in languages, economics, and all the current sciences (including chemistry which comes to his aid greatly during his revenge plan) and is the figurative father of the Count of Monte Cristo. He dies from the third attack of a mysterious hereditary disease.

* Bertuccio — The Count of Monte Cristo's steward and very loyal servant; in the Count's own words, Bertuccio "knows no impossibility" and is sure of never being dismissed from the Count's service because, as the count states, the count will "never find anyone better." He had declared vendetta against Monsieur de Villefort, for refusal to avenge Bertuccio's brother's murder. Before ever meeting Edmond, he stabs Villefort, believing him to be dead, but becomes involved in Villefort's personal life by rescuing his illegitimate newborn, later named Benedetto by Bertuccio.

* Luigi Vampa — Book-reading Italian bandit and fugitive; owes much to the Count of Monte Cristo, and is instrumental in many of the Count's plans.

* Haydée — The daughter of Ali Pasha is eventually bought by the Count of Monte Cristo from a Sultan. Even though she was purchased as a slave, Monte Cristo treats her with the utmost respect. She lives in seclusion by her own choice, but is usually very aware of everything that is happening outside. She usually goes to local operas accompanied by the Count. At the trial of Fernand Mondego, she provides the key evidence required to convict Fernand of treason. She is deeply in love with the Count of Monte Cristo, and although he feels he is too old for her, he eventually reciprocates.

* Ali — Monte Cristo's Nubian slave, a mute (his tongue had been cut out as part of his punishment for intruding into the harem of the Bey of Tunis; his hand and head had also been scheduled to be cut off, but the Count bargained with the Bey for Ali's life). He is completely loyal and utterly devoted to the Count and is trusted by him completely. Ali is also a master of horses.

* Baptistin — Monte Cristo's valet-de-chambre. Although only in Monte Cristo's service for little more than a year, he has become the number three man in the Count's household and seems to have proven himself completely trustworthy and loyal....

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Morcerf family

* Mercédès Mondego — (née: Herrera) Edmond's fiancée at the beginning until their planned marriage is interrupted by Edmond's imprisonment. Eighteen months later, she marries cousin Fernand Mondego (while still pledging eternal love to Dantes) because she believes Edmond dead and feels alone in the world. Thus, she lives as Mme the Countess de Morcerf in Paris and bears a son. At Dantes' release and reappearance as the Count, their love is still evident and passionate but circumstances (including her own marriage and Edmond's involvement with Haydée) dictate that they cannot marry. In the end, she returns to Marseille with Edmond's respect and admiration.

* Fernand Mondego — Later known as the Count de Morcerf. Edmond's rival and suitor for Mercédès; will do anything to get her, including bearing false witness against Edmond. He is overall a representation of evil, as he lies and betrays throughout his military career for his own personal gain. But, when confronted by his nefarious acts, disgraced in public and abandoned by his wife and son, he commits suicide.

* Albert de Morcerf — Son of Mercédès and the Count de Morcerf. Befriends Monte Cristo in Rome; viewed by Monte Cristo as the son that should have been his with Mercédès, but does not have as strong a filial bond with him as does Maximilien Morrel. At the end, he realizes his father's faults and, along with his mother, Mercédès, abandons him and his name.

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Danglars family

* Baron Danglars — Initially the purser on the same ship on which Dantès served as first mate, he longs to be wealthy and powerful and becomes jealous of Dantès for his favor with Pierre Morrel. He also developed a grudge against Dantès with whom he has had some arguments regarding the accuracy of his accounting. The source of his wealth is not clear but is possibly due to unscrupulous financial dealings while in the French army and has reportedly been multiplied by speculation and marriage. His intelligence is only evident where money is concerned; otherwise he is a member of the nouveau riche with only superficial good taste (he cannot even tell the difference between original paintings and copies) and no true family feelings.

* Madame Danglars — Full name is Hermine de Nargonne or Hermine Danglars. Was independently wealthy before marrying Danglars. With help from her close friend (and presumed lover) Lucien Debray, Madame Danglars invests the money of Danglars and is able to amass over a million francs for her own disposal. Once had an affair with Gérard de Villefort, whom she had an illegitimate son with (See Benedetto).

* Eugénie Danglars — The daughter of Danglars engaged at first to Albert de Morcerf and later to "Andrea Cavalcanti" but who would rather stay unwed, living "an independent and unfettered life" as an artist. She is presented as a lesbian and runs away with another girl, Louise d'Armilly; these connotations were considered scandalous.

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Villefort family

* Gérard de Villefort — A royal prosecutor who has even denounced his own father (Noirtier) in order to protect his own career. He is responsible for imprisoning Edmond Dantès to protect his political aspirations.

* Valentine de Villefort — The daughter of Gérard de Villefort, the crown prosecutor and enemy of Edmond. She falls in love with Maximilien Morrel, is engaged to Baron Franz d'Epinay, is almost poisoned by her stepmother, saved once by her grandfather, Noirtier, and is finally saved by Dantès. Valentine is the quintessential (French, nineteenth century) female: beautiful, docile, and loving. The only person she feels that she can confide in is her invalid grandfather.

* Noirtier de Villefort — The father of Gérard de Villefort and grandfather of Valentine. After suffering an apoplectic stroke, Noirtier becomes mute and a quadriplegic, but can communicate with Valentine and his servant Barrois through use of his eyelids and eyes. Although utterly dependent on others, he saves Valentine from the poison of her stepmother and her undesired marriage to Baron Franz d'Epinay. Throughout his life he was a Bonapartist – an ardent French Revolutionary. Gérard de Villefort had realized that Edmond intended to fulfill his dying captain's last wish by conveying a letter from the imprisoned Napoleon to Noirtier, and therefore imprisoned Edmond in order to hide that fact, which might have hindered Gérard's advancement.

* Héloïse de Villefort — The murderous second wife of Villefort who is motivated to protect and nurture her only son and his inheritance.

* Édouard de Villefort — the only (legitimate) son of Villefort who is unfortunately swept up in his mother's greed. (His name is sometimes translated as Edward de Villefort.)

* Benedetto — Illegitimate son of de Villefort and Hermine de Nargonne (now Baroness Hermine Danglars); raised by Bertuccio (Monte Cristo's servant) and his sister-in-law, Assunta. Murderer and thief. Returns to Paris as Andrea Cavalcanti.

Other important characters

* Gaspard Caderousse — A tailor and originally a neighbour and friend of Dantès, he witnesses while drunk the writing by Danglars of the denunciation of Dantès. After Dantès is arrested, he is too cowardly to come forward with the truth. Caderousse is somewhat different from the other members of the conspiracy in that it is what he does not do, rather than what he actually plans, that leads to Dantès' arrest. He moves out of town, becomes an innkeeper, falls on hard times, and supplements his income by fencing stolen goods from Bertuccio. After his escape from prison, Dantès (and the reader) first hear the fates of many of the characters from Caderousse. Unlike the other members of the conspiracy, Monte Cristo offers Caderousse a chance to redeem himself, but the latter's greed proves his undoing.

* Pierre Morrel — Edmond Dante's patron and owner of the major Marseille shipping firm of Morrel & Son. While a very honest and shrewd businessman, he is very fond of Edmond and eager to advance his interests. After Edmond is arrested, he tries his hardest to help Edmond and is hopeful of Edmond's release when Napoleon is restored to power, but because of his sympathies for the Bonapartist cause is forced to back down and abandon all hope after the Hundred Days and second Restoration of the monarchy. Between 1825 and 1830, his firm undergoes critical financial reverses due to the loss of all of his ships at sea, and he is at the point of bankruptcy and suicide when Monte Cristo (in the guise of an English clerk from the financial firm of Thompson and French) sets events in motion which not only save Pierre Morrel's reputation and honor but also his life.

* Maximilien Morrel — He is the son of Edmond's employer, Pierre Morrel, a captain in the Spahi regiment of the Army stationed in Algiers and an Officer of the Legion of Honor. After Edmond's escape and the Count of Monte Cristo's debut in Paris, Maximilien becomes a very good friend to the Count of Monte Cristo, yet still manages to force the Count to change many of his plans, partly by falling in love with Valentine de Villefort.

* Julie Herbault — Daughter of Edmond's patron, Pierre Morrel, she marries Emmanuel Herbault.

* Emmanuel Herbault — Julie Herbault's husband; he had previously worked in Pierre Morrell's shipping firm and is the brother-in-law of Maximilien Morrel and son-in-law of Pierre Morrel.

* Louis Dantes — Edmond's father. After his son's imprisonment, he eventually died from starvation.

* Baron Franz d'Epinay — A friend of Albert de Morcerf, he is the first fiancé of Valentine de Villefort. Franz's father was killed in a duel by Monsieur Noirtier de Villefort.

* Lucien Debray — Secretary to the Minister of the Interior. A friend of Albert de Morcerf, and a close friend of Madame Danglars, to whom he funnels insider information regarding investments.

* Beauchamp — A leading journalist and friend of Albert de Morcerf.

* Le Baron de Château-Renaud — Another friend of Albert de Morcerf. Renaud's life was saved in Africa by Maximilien Morrel.

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Contents – Read this book free online here….

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Chapter 1 Marseilles -- The Arrival.

2008-04-20T12:37:00.003-07:00

Chapter 1 Marseilles -- The Arrival.

On the 24th of February, 1810, the look-out at Notre-Dame de

la Garde signalled the three-master, the Pharaon from

Smyrna, Trieste, and Naples.

As usual, a pilot put off immediately, and rounding the

Chateau d'If, got on board the vessel between Cape Morgion

and Rion island.

Immediately, and according to custom, the ramparts of Fort

Saint-Jean were covered with spectators; it is always an

event at Marseilles for a ship to come into port, especially

when this ship, like the Pharaon, has been built, rigged,

and laden at the old Phocee docks, and belongs to an owner

of the city.

The ship drew on and had safely passed the strait, which

some volcanic shock has made between the Calasareigne and

Jaros islands; had doubled Pomegue, and approached the

harbor under topsails, jib, and spanker, but so slowly and

sedately that the idlers, with that instinct which is the

forerunner of evil, asked one another what misfortune could

have happened on board. However, those experienced in

navigation saw plainly that if any accident had occurred, it

was not to the vessel herself, for she bore down with all

the evidence of being skilfully handled, the anchor

a-cockbill, the jib-boom guys already eased off, and

standing by the side of the pilot, who was steering the

Pharaon towards the narrow entrance of the inner port, was a

young man, who, with activity and vigilant eye, watched

every motion of the ship, and repeated each direction of the

pilot.

The vague disquietude which prevailed among the spectators

had so much affected one of the crowd that he did not await

the arrival of the vessel in harbor, but jumping into a

small skiff, desired to be pulled alongside the Pharaon,

which he reached as she rounded into La Reserve basin.

When the young man on board saw this person approach, he

left his station by the pilot, and, hat in hand, leaned over

the ship's bulwarks.

He was a fine, tall, slim young fellow of eighteen or

twenty, with black eyes, and hair as dark as a raven's wing;

and his whole appearance bespoke that calmness and

resolution peculiar to men accustomed from their cradle to

contend with danger.

"Ah, is it you, Dantes?" cried the man in the skiff. "What's

the matter? and why have you such an air of sadness aboard?"

"A great misfortune, M. Morrel," replied the young man, --

"a great misfortune, for me especially! Off Civita Vecchia

we lost our brave Captain Leclere."

"And the cargo?" inquired the owner, eagerly.

"Is all safe, M. Morrel; and I think you will be satisfied

on that head. But poor Captain Leclere -- "

"What happened to him?" asked the owner, with an air of

considerable resignation. "What happened to the worthy

captain?"

"He died."

"Fell into the sea?"

"No, sir, he died of brain-fever in dreadful agony." Then

turning to the crew, he said, "Bear a hand there, to take in

sail!"

All hands obeyed, and at once the eight or ten seamen who

composed the crew, sprang to their respective stations at

the spanker brails and outhaul, topsail sheets and halyards,

the jib downhaul, and the topsail clewlines and buntlines.

The young sailor gave a look to see that his orders were

promptly and accurately obeyed, and then turned again to the

owner.

"And how did this misfortune occur?" inquired the latter,

resuming the interrupted conversation.

"Alas, sir, in the most unexpected manner. After a long talk

with the harbor-master, Captain Leclere left Naples greatly

disturbed in mind. In twenty-four hours he was attacked by a

fever, and died three days afterwards. We performed the

usual burial service, and he is at his rest, sewn up in his

hammock with a thirty-six pound shot at his head and his

heels, off El Giglio island. We bring to his widow his sword

and cross of honor. It was worth while, truly," added the

young man with a melancholy smile, "to make war against the

English for ten years, and to die in his bed at last, like

everybody else."

"Why, you see, Edmond," replied the owner, who appeared more

comforted at every moment, "we are all mortal, and the old

must make way for the young. If not, why, there would be no

promotion; and since you assure me that the cargo -- "

"Is all safe and sound, M. Morrel, take my word for it; and

I advise you not to take 25,000 francs for the profits of

the voyage."

Then, as they were just passing the Round Tower, the young

man shouted: "Stand by there to lower the topsails and jib;

brail up the spanker!"

The order was executed as promptly as it would have been on

board a man-of-war.

"Let go -- and clue up!" At this last command all the sails

were lowered, and the vessel moved almost imperceptibly

onwards.

"Now, if you will come on board, M. Morrel," said Dantes,

observing the owner's impatience, "here is your supercargo,

M. Danglars, coming out of his cabin, who will furnish you

with every particular. As for me, I must look after the

anchoring, and dress the ship in mourning."

The owner did not wait for a second invitation. He seized a

rope which Dantes flung to him, and with an activity that

would have done credit to a sailor, climbed up the side of

the ship, while the young man, going to his task, left the

conversation to Danglars, who now came towards the owner. He

was a man of twenty-five or twenty-six years of age, of

unprepossessing countenance, obsequious to his superiors,

insolent to his subordinates; and this, in addition to his

position as responsible agent on board, which is always

obnoxious to the sailors, made him as much disliked by the

crew as Edmond Dantes was beloved by them.

"Well, M. Morrel," said Danglars, "you have heard of the

misfortune that has befallen us?"

"Yes -- yes: poor Captain Leclere! He was a brave and an

honest man."

"And a first-rate seaman, one who had seen long and

honorable service, as became a man charged with the

interests of a house so important as that of Morrel & Son,"

replied Danglars.

"But," replied the owner, glancing after Dantes, who was

watching the anchoring of his vessel, "it seems to me that a

sailor needs not be so old as you say, Danglars, to

understand his business, for our friend Edmond seems to

understand it thoroughly, and not to require instruction

from any one."

"Yes," said Danglars, darting at Edmond a look gleaming with

hate. "Yes, he is young, and youth is invariably

self-confident. Scarcely was the captain's breath out of his

body when he assumed the command without consulting any one,

and he caused us to lose a day and a half at the Island of

Elba, instead of making for Marseilles direct."

"As to taking command of the vessel," replied Morrel, "that

was his duty as captain's mate; as to losing a day and a

half off the Island of Elba, he was wrong, unless the vessel

needed repairs."

"The vessel was in as good condition as I am, and as, I hope

you are, M. Morrel, and this day and a half was lost from

pure whim, for the pleasure of going ashore, and nothing

else."

"Dantes," said the shipowner, turning towards the young man,

"come this way!"

"In a moment, sir," answered Dantes, "and I'm with you."

Then calling to the crew, he said -- "Let go!"

The anchor was instantly dropped, and the chain ran rattling

through the port-hole. Dantes continued at his post in spite

of the presence of the pilot, until this manoeuvre was

completed, and then he added, "Half-mast the colors, and

square the yards!"

"You see," said Danglars, "he fancies himself captain

already, upon my word."

"And so, in fact, he is," said the owner.

"Except your signature and your partner's, M. Morrel."

"And why should he not have this?" asked the owner; "he is

young, it is true, but he seems to me a thorough seaman, and

of full experience."

A cloud passed over Danglars' brow. "Your pardon, M.

Morrel," said Dantes, approaching, "the vessel now rides at

anchor, and I am at your service. You hailed me, I think?"

Danglars retreated a step or two. "I wished to inquire why

you stopped at the Island of Elba?"

"I do not know, sir; it was to fulfil the last instructions

of Captain Leclere, who, when dying, gave me a packet for

Marshal Bertrand."

"Then did you see him, Edmond?"

"Who?"

"The marshal."

"Yes."

Morrel looked around him, and then, drawing Dantes on one

side, he said suddenly -- "And how is the emperor?"

"Very well, as far as I could judge from the sight of him."

"You saw the emperor, then?"

"He entered the marshal's apartment while I was there."

"And you spoke to him?"

"Why, it was he who spoke to me, sir," said Dantes, with a

smile.

"And what did he say to you?"

"Asked me questions about the vessel, the time she left

Marseilles, the course she had taken, and what was her

cargo. I believe, if she had not been laden, and I had been

her master, he would have bought her. But I told him I was

only mate, and that she belonged to the firm of Morrel &

Son. `Ah, yes,' he said, `I know them. The Morrels have been

shipowners from father to son; and there was a Morrel who

served in the same regiment with me when I was in garrison

at Valence.'"

"Pardieu, and that is true!" cried the owner, greatly

delighted. "And that was Policar Morrel, my uncle, who was

afterwards a captain. Dantes, you must tell my uncle that

the emperor remembered him, and you will see it will bring

tears into the old soldier's eyes. Come, come," continued

he, patting Edmond's shoulder kindly, "you did very right,

Dantes, to follow Captain Leclere's instructions, and touch

at Elba, although if it were known that you had conveyed a

packet to the marshal, and had conversed with the emperor,

it might bring you into trouble."

"How could that bring me into trouble, sir?" asked Dantes;

"for I did not even know of what I was the bearer; and the

emperor merely made such inquiries as he would of the first

comer. But, pardon me, here are the health officers and the

customs inspectors coming alongside." And the young man went

to the gangway. As he departed, Danglars approached, and

said, --

"Well, it appears that he has given you satisfactory reasons

for his landing at Porto-Ferrajo?"

"Yes, most satisfactory, my dear Danglars."

"Well, so much the better," said the supercargo; "for it is

not pleasant to think that a comrade has not done his duty."

"Dantes has done his," replied the owner, "and that is not

saying much. It was Captain Leclere who gave orders for this

delay."

"Talking of Captain Leclere, has not Dantes given you a

letter from him?"

"To me? -- no -- was there one?"

"I believe that, besides the packet, Captain Leclere

confided a letter to his care."

"Of what packet are you speaking, Danglars?"

"Why, that which Dantes left at Porto-Ferrajo."

"How do you know he had a packet to leave at Porto-Ferrajo?"

Danglars turned very red.

"I was passing close to the door of the captain's cabin,

which was half open, and I saw him give the packet and

letter to Dantes."

"He did not speak to me of it," replied the shipowner; "but

if there be any letter he will give it to me."

Danglars reflected for a moment. "Then, M. Morrel, I beg of

you," said he, "not to say a word to Dantes on the subject.

I may have been mistaken."

At this moment the young man returned; Danglars withdrew.

"Well, my dear Dantes, are you now free?" inquired the

owner.

"Yes, sir."

"You have not been long detained."

"No. I gave the custom-house officers a copy of our bill of

lading; and as to the other papers, they sent a man off with

the pilot, to whom I gave them."

"Then you have nothing more to do here?"

"No -- everything is all right now."

"Then you can come and dine with me?"

"I really must ask you to excuse me, M. Morrel. My first

visit is due to my father, though I am not the less grateful

for the honor you have done me."

"Right, Dantes, quite right. I always knew you were a good

son."

"And," inquired Dantes, with some hesitation, "do you know

how my father is?"

"Well, I believe, my dear Edmond, though I have not seen him

lately."

"Yes, he likes to keep himself shut up in his little room."

"That proves, at least, that he has wanted for nothing

during your absence."

Dantes smiled. "My father is proud, sir, and if he had not a

meal left, I doubt if he would have asked anything from

anyone, except from Heaven."

"Well, then, after this first visit has been made we shall

count on you."

"I must again excuse myself, M. Morrel, for after this first

visit has been paid I have another which I am most anxious

to pay."

"True, Dantes, I forgot that there was at the Catalans some

one who expects you no less impatiently than your father --

the lovely Mercedes."

Dantes blushed.

"Ah, ha," said the shipowner, "I am not in the least

surprised, for she has been to me three times, inquiring if

there were any news of the Pharaon. Peste, Edmond, you have

a very handsome mistress!"

"She is not my mistress," replied the young sailor, gravely;

"she is my betrothed."

"Sometimes one and the same thing," said Morrel, with a

smile.

"Not with us, sir," replied Dantes.

"Well, well, my dear Edmond," continued the owner, "don't

let me detain you. You have managed my affairs so well that

I ought to allow you all the time you require for your own.

Do you want any money?"

"No, sir; I have all my pay to take -- nearly three months'

wages."

"You are a careful fellow, Edmond."

"Say I have a poor father, sir."

"Yes, yes, I know how good a son you are, so now hasten away

to see your father. I have a son too, and I should be very

wroth with those who detained him from me after a three

months' voyage."

"Then I have your leave, sir?"

"Yes, if you have nothing more to say to me."

"Nothing."

"Captain Leclere did not, before he died, give you a letter

for me?"

"He was unable to write, sir. But that reminds me that I

must ask your leave of absence for some days."

"To get married?"

"Yes, first, and then to go to Paris."

"Very good; have what time you require, Dantes. It will take

quite six weeks to unload the cargo, and we cannot get you

ready for sea until three months after that; only be back

again in three months, for the Pharaon," added the owner,

patting the young sailor on the back, "cannot sail without

her captain."

"Without her captain!" cried Dantes, his eyes sparkling with

animation; "pray mind what you say, for you are touching on

the most secret wishes of my heart. Is it really your

intention to make me captain of the Pharaon?"

"If I were sole owner we'd shake hands on it now, my dear

Dantes, and call it settled; but I have a partner, and you

know the Italian proverb -- Chi ha compagno ha padrone --

`He who has a partner has a master.' But the thing is at

least half done, as you have one out of two votes. Rely on

me to procure you the other; I will do my best."

"Ah, M. Morrel," exclaimed the young seaman, with tears in

his eyes, and grasping the owner's hand, "M. Morrel, I thank

you in the name of my father and of Mercedes."

"That's all right, Edmond. There's a providence that watches

over the deserving. Go to your father: go and see Mercedes,

and afterwards come to me."

"Shall I row you ashore?"

"No, thank you; I shall remain and look over the accounts

with Danglars. Have you been satisfied with him this

voyage?"

"That is according to the sense you attach to the question,

sir. Do you mean is he a good comrade? No, for I think he

never liked me since the day when I was silly enough, after

a little quarrel we had, to propose to him to stop for ten

minutes at the island of Monte Cristo to settle the dispute

-- a proposition which I was wrong to suggest, and he quite

right to refuse. If you mean as responsible agent when you

ask me the question, I believe there is nothing to say

against him, and that you will be content with the way in

which he has performed his duty."

"But tell me, Dantes, if you had command of the Pharaon

should you be glad to see Danglars remain?"

"Captain or mate, M. Morrel, I shall always have the

greatest respect for those who possess the owners'

confidence."

"That's right, that's right, Dantes! I see you are a

thoroughly good fellow, and will detain you no longer. Go,

for I see how impatient you are."

"Then I have leave?"

"Go, I tell you."

"May I have the use of your skiff?"

"Certainly."

"Then, for the present, M. Morrel, farewell, and a thousand

thanks!"

"I hope soon to see you again, my dear Edmond. Good luck to

you."

The young sailor jumped into the skiff, and sat down in the

stern sheets, with the order that he be put ashore at La

Canebiere. The two oarsmen bent to their work, and the

little boat glided away as rapidly as possible in the midst

of the thousand vessels which choke up the narrow way which

leads between the two rows of ships from the mouth of the

harbor to the Quai d'Orleans.

The shipowner, smiling, followed him with his eyes until he

saw him spring out on the quay and disappear in the midst of

the throng, which from five o'clock in the morning until

nine o'clock at night, swarms in the famous street of La

Canebiere, -- a street of which the modern Phocaeans are so

proud that they say with all the gravity in the world, and

with that accent which gives so much character to what is

said, "If Paris had La Canebiere, Paris would be a second

Marseilles." On turning round the owner saw Danglars behind

him, apparently awaiting orders, but in reality also

watching the young sailor, -- but there was a great

difference in the expression of the two men who thus

followed the movements of Edmond Dantes.

Chapter 2 Father and Son.

2008-04-20T12:37:00.001-07:00

Chapter 2 Father and Son.

We will leave Danglars struggling with the demon of hatred,

and endeavoring to insinuate in the ear of the shipowner

some evil suspicions against his comrade, and follow Dantes,

who, after having traversed La Canebiere, took the Rue de

Noailles, and entering a small house, on the left of the

Allees de Meillan, rapidly ascended four flights of a dark

staircase, holding the baluster with one hand, while with

the other he repressed the beatings of his heart, and paused

before a half-open door, from which he could see the whole

of a small room.

This room was occupied by Dantes' father. The news of the

arrival of the Pharaon had not yet reached the old man, who,

mounted on a chair, was amusing himself by training with

trembling hand the nasturtiums and sprays of clematis that

clambered over the trellis at his window. Suddenly, he felt

an arm thrown around his body, and a well-known voice behind

him exclaimed, "Father -- dear father!"

The old man uttered a cry, and turned round; then, seeing

his son, he fell into his arms, pale and trembling.

"What ails you, my dearest father? Are you ill?" inquired

the young man, much alarmed.

"No, no, my dear Edmond -- my boy -- my son! -- no; but I

did not expect you; and joy, the surprise of seeing you so

suddenly -- Ah, I feel as if I were going to die."

"Come, come, cheer up, my dear father! 'Tis I -- really I!

They say joy never hurts, and so I came to you without any

warning. Come now, do smile, instead of looking at me so

solemnly. Here I am back again, and we are going to be

happy."

"Yes, yes, my boy, so we will -- so we will," replied the

old man; "but how shall we be happy? Shall you never leave

me again? Come, tell me all the good fortune that has

befallen you."

"God forgive me," said the young man, "for rejoicing at

happiness derived from the misery of others, but, Heaven

knows, I did not seek this good fortune; it has happened,

and I really cannot pretend to lament it. The good Captain

Leclere is dead, father, and it is probable that, with the

aid of M. Morrel, I shall have his place. Do you understand,

father? Only imagine me a captain at twenty, with a hundred

louis pay, and a share in the profits! Is this not more than

a poor sailor like me could have hoped for?"

"Yes, my dear boy," replied the old man, "it is very

fortunate."

"Well, then, with the first money I touch, I mean you to

have a small house, with a garden in which to plant

clematis, nasturtiums, and honeysuckle. But what ails you,

father? Are you not well?"

"'Tis nothing, nothing; it will soon pass away" -- and as he

said so the old man's strength failed him, and he fell

backwards.

"Come, come," said the young man, "a glass of wine, father,

will revive you. Where do you keep your wine?"

"No, no; thanks. You need not look for it; I do not want

it," said the old man.

"Yes, yes, father, tell me where it is," and he opened two

or three cupboards.

"It is no use," said the old man, "there is no wine."

"What, no wine?" said Dantes, turning pale, and looking

alternately at the hollow cheeks of the old man and the

empty cupboards. "What, no wine? Have you wanted money,

father?"

"I want nothing now that I have you," said the old man.

"Yet," stammered Dantes, wiping the perspiration from his

brow, -- "yet I gave you two hundred francs when I left,

three months ago."

"Yes, yes, Edmond, that is true, but you forgot at that time

a little debt to our neighbor, Caderousse. He reminded me of

it, telling me if I did not pay for you, he would be paid by

M. Morrel; and so, you see, lest he might do you an injury"

"Well?"

"Why, I paid him."

"But," cried Dantes, "it was a hundred and forty francs I

owed Caderousse."

"Yes," stammered the old man.

"And you paid him out of the two hundred francs I left you?"

The old man nodded.

"So that you have lived for three months on sixty francs,"

muttered Edmond.

"You know how little I require," said the old man.

"Heaven pardon me," cried Edmond, falling on his knees

before his father.

"What are you doing?"

"You have wounded me to the heart."

"Never mind it, for I see you once more," said the old man;

"and now it's all over -- everything is all right again."

"Yes, here I am," said the young man, "with a promising

future and a little money. Here, father, here!" he said,

"take this -- take it, and send for something immediately."

And he emptied his pockets on the table, the contents

consisting of a dozen gold pieces, five or six five-franc

pieces, and some smaller coin. The countenance of old Dantes

brightened.

"Whom does this belong to?" he inquired.

"To me, to you, to us! Take it; buy some provisions; be

happy, and to-morrow we shall have more."

"Gently, gently," said the old man, with a smile; "and by

your leave I will use your purse moderately, for they would

say, if they saw me buy too many things at a time, that I

had been obliged to await your return, in order to be able

to purchase them."

"Do as you please; but, first of all, pray have a servant,

father. I will not have you left alone so long. I have some

smuggled coffee and most capital tobacco, in a small chest

in the hold, which you shall have to-morrow. But, hush, here

comes somebody."

"'Tis Caderousse, who has heard of your arrival, and no

doubt comes to congratulate you on your fortunate return."

"Ah, lips that say one thing, while the heart thinks

another," murmured Edmond. "But, never mind, he is a

neighbor who has done us a service on a time, so he's

welcome."

As Edmond paused, the black and bearded head of Caderousse

appeared at the door. He was a man of twenty-five or six,

and held a piece of cloth, which, being a tailor, he was

about to make into a coat-lining.

"What, is it you, Edmond, back again?" said he, with a broad

Marseillaise accent, and a grin that displayed his

ivory-white teeth.

"Yes, as you see, neighbor Caderousse; and ready to be

agreeable to you in any and every way," replied Dantes, but

ill-concealing his coldness under this cloak of civility.

"Thanks -- thanks; but, fortunately, I do not want for

anything; and it chances that at times there are others who

have need of me." Dantes made a gesture. "I do not allude to

you, my boy. No! -- no! I lent you money, and you returned

it; that's like good neighbors, and we are quits."

"We are never quits with those who oblige us," was Dantes'

reply; "for when we do not owe them money, we owe them

gratitude."

"What's the use of mentioning that? What is done is done.

Let us talk of your happy return, my boy. I had gone on the

quay to match a piece of mulberry cloth, when I met friend

Danglars. `You at Marseilles?' -- `Yes,' says he.

"`I thought you were at Smyrna.' -- `I was; but am now back

again.'

"`And where is the dear boy, our little Edmond?'

"`Why, with his father, no doubt,' replied Danglars. And so

I came," added Caderousse, "as fast as I could to have the

pleasure of shaking hands with a friend."

"Worthy Caderousse!" said the old man, "he is so much

attached to us."

"Yes, to be sure I am. I love and esteem you, because honest

folks are so rare. But it seems you have come back rich, my

boy," continued the tailor, looking askance at the handful

of gold and silver which Dantes had thrown on the table.

The young man remarked the greedy glance which shone in the

dark eyes of his neighbor. "Eh," he said, negligently. "this

money is not mine. I was expressing to my father my fears

that he had wanted many things in my absence, and to

convince me he emptied his purse on the table. Come, father"

added Dantes, "put this money back in your box -- unless

neighbor Caderousse wants anything, and in that case it is

at his service."

"No, my boy, no," said Caderousse. "I am not in any want,

thank God, my living is suited to my means. Keep your money

-- keep it, I say; -- one never has too much; -- but, at the

same time, my boy, I am as much obliged by your offer as if

I took advantage of it."

"It was offered with good will," said Dantes.

"No doubt, my boy; no doubt. Well, you stand well with M.

Morrel I hear, -- you insinuating dog, you!"

"M. Morrel has always been exceedingly kind to me," replied

Dantes.

"Then you were wrong to refuse to dine with him."

"What, did you refuse to dine with him?" said old Dantes;

"and did he invite you to dine?"

"Yes, my dear father," replied Edmond, smiling at his

father's astonishment at the excessive honor paid to his

son.

"And why did you refuse, my son?" inquired the old man.

"That I might the sooner see you again, my dear father,"

replied the young man. "I was most anxious to see you."

"But it must have vexed M. Morrel, good, worthy man," said

Caderousse. "And when you are looking forward to be captain,

it was wrong to annoy the owner."

"But I explained to him the cause of my refusal," replied

Dantes, "and I hope he fully understood it."

"Yes, but to be captain one must do a little flattery to

one's patrons."

"I hope to be captain without that," said Dantes.

"So much the better -- so much the better! Nothing will give

greater pleasure to all your old friends; and I know one

down there behind the Saint Nicolas citadel who will not be

sorry to hear it."

"Mercedes?" said the old man.

"Yes, my dear father, and with your permission, now I have

seen you, and know you are well and have all you require, I

will ask your consent to go and pay a visit to the

Catalans."

"Go, my dear boy," said old Dantes: "and heaven bless you in

your wife, as it has blessed me in my son!"

"His wife!" said Caderousse; "why, how fast you go on,

father Dantes; she is not his wife yet, as it seems to me."

"So, but according to all probability she soon will be,"

replied Edmond.

"Yes -- yes," said Caderousse; "but you were right to return

as soon as possible, my boy."

"And why?"

"Because Mercedes is a very fine girl, and fine girls never

lack followers; she particularly has them by dozens."

"Really?" answered Edmond, with a smile which had in it

traces of slight uneasiness.

"Ah, yes," continued Caderousse, "and capital offers, too;

but you know, you will be captain, and who could refuse you

then?"

"Meaning to say," replied Dantes, with a smile which but

ill-concealed his trouble, "that if I were not a captain" --

"Eh -- eh!" said Caderousse, shaking his head.

"Come, come," said the sailor, "I have a better opinion than

you of women in general, and of Mercedes in particular; and

I am certain that, captain or not, she will remain ever

faithful to me."

"So much the better -- so much the better," said Caderousse.

"When one is going to be married, there is nothing like

implicit confidence; but never mind that, my boy, -- go and

announce your arrival, and let her know all your hopes and

prospects."

"I will go directly," was Edmond's reply; and, embracing his

father, and nodding to Caderousse, he left the apartment.

Caderousse lingered for a moment, then taking leave of old

Dantes, he went downstairs to rejoin Danglars, who awaited

him at the corner of the Rue Senac.

"Well," said Danglars, "did you see him?"

"I have just left him," answered Caderousse.

"Did he allude to his hope of being captain?"

"He spoke of it as a thing already decided."

"Indeed!" said Danglars, "he is in too much hurry, it

appears to me."

"Why, it seems M. Morrel has promised him the thing."

"So that he is quite elated about it?"

"Why, yes, he is actually insolent over the matter -- has

already offered me his patronage, as if he were a grand

personage, and proffered me a loan of money, as though he

were a banker."

"Which you refused?"

"Most assuredly; although I might easily have accepted it,

for it was I who put into his hands the first silver he ever

earned; but now M. Dantes has no longer any occasion for

assistance -- he is about to become a captain."

"Pooh!" said Danglars, "he is not one yet."

"Ma foi, it will be as well if he is not," answered

Caderousse; "for if he should be, there will be really no

speaking to him."

"If we choose," replied Danglars, "he will remain what he

is; and perhaps become even less than he is."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing -- I was speaking to myself. And is he still in

love with the Catalane?"

"Over head and ears; but, unless I am much mistaken, there

will be a storm in that quarter."

"Explain yourself."

"Why should I?"

"It is more important than you think, perhaps. You do not

like Dantes?"

"I never like upstarts."

"Then tell me all you know about the Catalane."

"I know nothing for certain; only I have seen things which

induce me to believe, as I told you, that the future captain

will find some annoyance in the vicinity of the Vieilles

Infirmeries."

"What have you seen? -- come, tell me!"

"Well, every time I have seen Mercedes come into the city

she has been accompanied by a tall, strapping, black-eyed

Catalan, with a red complexion, brown skin, and fierce air,

whom she calls cousin."

"Really; and you think this cousin pays her attentions?"

"I only suppose so. What else can a strapping chap of

twenty-one mean with a fine wench of seventeen?"

"And you say that Dantes has gone to the Catalans?"

"He went before I came down."

"Let us go the same way; we will stop at La Reserve, and we

can drink a glass of La Malgue, whilst we wait for news."

"Come along," said Caderousse; "but you pay the score."

"Of course," replied Danglars; and going quickly to the

designated place, they called for a bottle of wine, and two

glasses.

Pere Pamphile had seen Dantes pass not ten minutes before;

and assured that he was at the Catalans, they sat down under

the budding foliage of the planes and sycamores, in the

branches of which the birds were singing their welcome to

one of the first days of spring.

Chapter 3 The Catalans.

2008-04-20T12:36:00.001-07:00

Chapter 3 The Catalans.

Beyond a bare, weather-worn wall, about a hundred paces from

the spot where the two friends sat looking and listening as

they drank their wine, was the village of the Catalans. Long

ago this mysterious colony quitted Spain, and settled on the

tongue of land on which it is to this day. Whence it came no

one knew, and it spoke an unknown tongue. One of its chiefs,

who understood Provencal, begged the commune of Marseilles

to give them this bare and barren promontory, where, like

the sailors of old, they had run their boats ashore. The

request was granted; and three months afterwards, around the

twelve or fifteen small vessels which had brought these

gypsies of the sea, a small village sprang up. This village,

constructed in a singular and picturesque manner, half

Moorish, half Spanish, still remains, and is inhabited by

descendants of the first comers, who speak the language of

their fathers. For three or four centuries they have

remained upon this small promontory, on which they had

settled like a flight of seabirds, without mixing with the

Marseillaise population, intermarrying, and preserving their

original customs and the costume of their mother-country as

they have preserved its language.

Our readers will follow us along the only street of this

little village, and enter with us one of the houses, which

is sunburned to the beautiful dead-leaf color peculiar to

the buildings of the country, and within coated with

whitewash, like a Spanish posada. A young and beautiful

girl, with hair as black as jet, her eyes as velvety as the

gazelle's, was leaning with her back against the wainscot,

rubbing in her slender delicately moulded fingers a bunch of

heath blossoms, the flowers of which she was picking off and

strewing on the floor; her arms, bare to the elbow, brown,

and modelled after those of the Arlesian Venus, moved with a

kind of restless impatience, and she tapped the earth with

her arched and supple foot, so as to display the pure and

full shape of her well-turned leg, in its red cotton, gray

and blue clocked, stocking. At three paces from her, seated

in a chair which he balanced on two legs, leaning his elbow

on an old worm-eaten table, was a tall young man of twenty,

or two-and-twenty, who was looking at her with an air in

which vexation and uneasiness were mingled. He questioned

her with his eyes, but the firm and steady gaze of the young

girl controlled his look.

"You see, Mercedes," said the young man, "here is Easter

come round again; tell me, is this the moment for a

wedding?"

"I have answered you a hundred times, Fernand, and really

you must be very stupid to ask me again."

"Well, repeat it, -- repeat it, I beg of you, that I may at

last believe it! Tell me for the hundredth time that you

refuse my love, which had your mother's sanction. Make me

understand once for all that you are trifling with my

happiness, that my life or death are nothing to you. Ah, to

have dreamed for ten years of being your husband, Mercedes,

and to lose that hope, which was the only stay of my

existence!"

"At least it was not I who ever encouraged you in that hope,

Fernand," replied Mercedes; "you cannot reproach me with the

slightest coquetry. I have always said to you, `I love you

as a brother; but do not ask from me more than sisterly

affection, for my heart is another's.' Is not this true,

Fernand?"

"Yes, that is very true, Mercedes," replied the young man,

"Yes, you have been cruelly frank with me; but do you forget

that it is among the Catalans a sacred law to intermarry?"

"You mistake, Fernand; it is not a law, but merely a custom,

and, I pray of you, do not cite this custom in your favor.

You are included in the conscription, Fernand, and are only

at liberty on sufferance, liable at any moment to be called

upon to take up arms. Once a soldier, what would you do with

me, a poor orphan, forlorn, without fortune, with nothing

but a half-ruined hut and a few ragged nets, the miserable

inheritance left by my father to my mother, and by my mother

to me? She has been dead a year, and you know, Fernand, I

have subsisted almost entirely on public charity. Sometimes

you pretend I am useful to you, and that is an excuse to

share with me the produce of your fishing, and I accept it,

Fernand, because you are the son of my father's brother,

because we were brought up together, and still more because

it would give you so much pain if I refuse. But I feel very

deeply that this fish which I go and sell, and with the

produce of which I buy the flax I spin, -- I feel very

keenly, Fernand, that this is charity."

"And if it were, Mercedes, poor and lone as you are, you

suit me as well as the daughter of the first shipowner or

the richest banker of Marseilles! What do such as we desire

but a good wife and careful housekeeper, and where can I

look for these better than in you?"

"Fernand," answered Mercedes, shaking her head, "a woman

becomes a bad manager, and who shall say she will remain an

honest woman, when she loves another man better than her

husband? Rest content with my friendship, for I say once

more that is all I can promise, and I will promise no more

than I can bestow."

"I understand," replied Fernand, "you can endure your own

wretchedness patiently, but you are afraid to share mine.

Well, Mercedes, beloved by you, I would tempt fortune; you

would bring me good luck, and I should become rich. I could

extend my occupation as a fisherman, might get a place as

clerk in a warehouse, and become in time a dealer myself."

"You could do no such thing, Fernand; you are a soldier, and

if you remain at the Catalans it is because there is no war;

so remain a fisherman, and contented with my friendship, as

I cannot give you more."

"Well, I will do better, Mercedes. I will be a sailor;

instead of the costume of our fathers, which you despise, I

will wear a varnished hat, a striped shirt, and a blue

jacket, with an anchor on the buttons. Would not that dress

please you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mercedes, with an angry glance, --

"what do you mean? I do not understand you?"

"I mean, Mercedes, that you are thus harsh and cruel with

me, because you are expecting some one who is thus attired;

but perhaps he whom you await is inconstant, or if he is

not, the sea is so to him."

"Fernand," cried Mercedes, "I believed you were

good-hearted, and I was mistaken! Fernand, you are wicked to

call to your aid jealousy and the anger of God! Yes, I will

not deny it, I do await, and I do love him of whom you

speak; and, if he does not return, instead of accusing him

of the inconstancy which you insinuate, I will tell you that

he died loving me and me only." The young girl made a

gesture of rage. "I understand you, Fernand; you would be

revenged on him because I do not love you; you would cross

your Catalan knife with his dirk. What end would that

answer? To lose you my friendship if he were conquered, and

see that friendship changed into hate if you were victor.

Believe me, to seek a quarrel with a man is a bad method of

pleasing the woman who loves that man. No, Fernand, you will

not thus give way to evil thoughts. Unable to have me for

your wife, you will content yourself with having me for your

friend and sister; and besides," she added, her eyes

troubled and moistened with tears, "wait, wait, Fernand; you

said just now that the sea was treacherous, and he has been

gone four months, and during these four months there have

been some terrible storms."

Fernand made no reply, nor did he attempt to check the tears

which flowed down the cheeks of Mercedes, although for each

of these tears he would have shed his heart's blood; but

these tears flowed for another. He arose, paced a while up

and down the hut, and then, suddenly stopping before

Mercedes, with his eyes glowing and his hands clinched, --

"Say, Mercedes," he said, "once for all, is this your final

determination?"

"I love Edmond Dantes," the young girl calmly replied, "and

none but Edmond shall ever be my husband."

"And you will always love him?"

"As long as I live."

Fernand let fall his head like a defeated man, heaved a sigh

that was like a groan, and then suddenly looking her full in

the face, with clinched teeth and expanded nostrils, said,

-- "But if he is dead" --

"If he is dead, I shall die too."

"If he has forgotten you" --

"Mercedes!" called a joyous voice from without, --

"Mercedes!"

"Ah," exclaimed the young girl, blushing with delight, and

fairly leaping in excess of love, "you see he has not

forgotten me, for here he is!" And rushing towards the door,

she opened it, saying, "Here, Edmond, here I am!"

Fernand, pale and trembling, drew back, like a traveller at

the sight of a serpent, and fell into a chair beside him.

Edmond and Mercedes were clasped in each other's arms. The

burning Marseilles sun, which shot into the room through the

open door, covered them with a flood of light. At first they

saw nothing around them. Their intense happiness isolated

them from all the rest of the world, and they only spoke in

broken words, which are the tokens of a joy so extreme that

they seem rather the expression of sorrow. Suddenly Edmond

saw the gloomy, pale, and threatening countenance of

Fernand, as it was defined in the shadow. By a movement for

which he could scarcely account to himself, the young

Catalan placed his hand on the knife at his belt.

"Ah, your pardon," said Dantes, frowning in his turn; "I did

not perceive that there were three of us." Then, turning to

Mercedes, he inquired, "Who is this gentleman?"

"One who will be your best friend, Dantes, for he is my

friend, my cousin, my brother; it is Fernand -- the man

whom, after you, Edmond, I love the best in the world. Do

you not remember him?"

"Yes!" said Dantes, and without relinquishing Mercedes hand

clasped in one of his own, he extended the other to the

Catalan with a cordial air. But Fernand, instead of

responding to this amiable gesture, remained mute and

trembling. Edmond then cast his eyes scrutinizingly at the

agitated and embarrassed Mercedes, and then again on the

gloomy and menacing Fernand. This look told him all, and his

anger waxed hot.

"I did not know, when I came with such haste to you, that I

was to meet an enemy here."

"An enemy!" cried Mercedes, with an angry look at her

cousin. "An enemy in my house, do you say, Edmond! If I

believed that, I would place my arm under yours and go with

you to Marseilles, leaving the house to return to it no

more."

Fernand's eye darted lightning. "And should any misfortune

occur to you, dear Edmond," she continued with the same

calmness which proved to Fernand that the young girl had

read the very innermost depths of his sinister thought, "if

misfortune should occur to you, I would ascend the highest

point of the Cape de Morgion and cast myself headlong from

it."

Fernand became deadly pale. "But you are deceived, Edmond,"

she continued. "You have no enemy here -- there is no one

but Fernand, my brother, who will grasp your hand as a

devoted friend."

And at these words the young girl fixed her imperious look

on the Catalan, who, as if fascinated by it, came slowly

towards Edmond, and offered him his hand. His hatred, like a

powerless though furious wave, was broken against the strong

ascendancy which Mercedes exercised over him. Scarcely,

however, had he touched Edmond's hand than he felt he had

done all he could do, and rushed hastily out of the house.

"Oh," he exclaimed, running furiously and tearing his hair

-- "Oh, who will deliver me from this man? Wretched --

wretched that I am!"

"Hallo, Catalan! Hallo, Fernand! where are you running to?"

exclaimed a voice.

The young man stopped suddenly, looked around him, and

perceived Caderousse sitting at table with Danglars, under

an arbor.

"Well", said Caderousse, "why don't you come? Are you really

in such a hurry that you have no time to pass the time of

day with your friends?"

"Particularly when they have still a full bottle before

them," added Danglars. Fernand looked at them both with a

stupefied air, but did not say a word.

"He seems besotted," said Danglars, pushing Caderousse with

his knee. "Are we mistaken, and is Dantes triumphant in

spite of all we have believed?"

"Why, we must inquire into that," was Caderousse's reply;

and turning towards the young man, said, "Well, Catalan,

can't you make up your mind?"

Fernand wiped away the perspiration steaming from his brow,

and slowly entered the arbor, whose shade seemed to restore

somewhat of calmness to his senses, and whose coolness

somewhat of refreshment to his exhausted body.

"Good-day," said he. "You called me, didn't you?" And he

fell, rather than sat down, on one of the seats which

surrounded the table.

"I called you because you were running like a madman, and I

was afraid you would throw yourself into the sea," said

Caderousse, laughing. "Why, when a man has friends, they are

not only to offer him a glass of wine, but, moreover, to

prevent his swallowing three or four pints of water

unnecessarily!"

Fernand gave a groan, which resembled a sob, and dropped his

head into his hands, his elbows leaning on the table.

"Well, Fernand, I must say," said Caderousse, beginning the

conversation, with that brutality of the common people in

which curiosity destroys all diplomacy, "you look uncommonly

like a rejected lover;" and he burst into a hoarse laugh.

"Bah!" said Danglars, "a lad of his make was not born to be

unhappy in love. You are laughing at him, Caderousse."

"No," he replied, "only hark how he sighs! Come, come,

Fernand," said Caderousse, "hold up your head, and answer

us. It's not polite not to reply to friends who ask news of

your health."

"My health is well enough," said Fernand, clinching his

hands without raising his head.

"Ah, you see, Danglars," said Caderousse, winking at his

friend, "this is how it is; Fernand, whom you see here, is a

good and brave Catalan, one of the best fishermen in

Marseilles, and he is in love with a very fine girl, named

Mercedes; but it appears, unfortunately, that the fine girl

is in love with the mate of the Pharaon; and as the Pharaon

arrived to-day -- why, you understand!"

"No; I do not understand," said Danglars.

"Poor Fernand has been dismissed," continued Caderousse.

"Well, and what then?" said Fernand, lifting up his head,

and looking at Caderousse like a man who looks for some one

on whom to vent his anger; "Mercedes is not accountable to

any person, is she? Is she not free to love whomsoever she

will?"

"Oh, if you take it in that sense," said Caderousse, "it is

another thing. But I thought you were a Catalan, and they

told me the Catalans were not men to allow themselves to be

supplanted by a rival. It was even told me that Fernand,

especially, was terrible in his vengeance."

Fernand smiled piteously. "A lover is never terrible," he

said.

"Poor fellow!" remarked Danglars, affecting to pity the

young man from the bottom of his heart. "Why, you see, he

did not expect to see Dantes return so suddenly -- he

thought he was dead, perhaps; or perchance faithless! These

things always come on us more severely when they come

suddenly."

"Ah, ma foi, under any circumstances," said Caderousse, who

drank as he spoke, and on whom the fumes of the wine began

to take effect, -- "under any circumstances Fernand is not

the only person put out by the fortunate arrival of Dantes;

is he, Danglars?"

"No, you are right -- and I should say that would bring him

ill-luck."

"Well, never mind," answered Caderousse, pouring out a glass

of wine for Fernand, and filling his own for the eighth or

ninth time, while Danglars had merely sipped his. "Never

mind -- in the meantime he marries Mercedes -- the lovely

Mercedes -- at least he returns to do that."

During this time Danglars fixed his piercing glance on the

young man, on whose heart Caderousse's words fell like

molten lead.

"And when is the wedding to be?" he asked.

"Oh, it is not yet fixed!" murmured Fernand.

"No, but it will be," said Caderousse, "as surely as Dantes

will be captain of the Pharaon -- eh, Danglars?"

Danglars shuddered at this unexpected attack, and turned to

Caderousse, whose countenance he scrutinized, to try and

detect whether the blow was premeditated; but he read

nothing but envy in a countenance already rendered brutal

and stupid by drunkenness.

"Well," said he, filling the glasses, "let us drink to

Captain Edmond Dantes, husband of the beautiful Catalane!"

Caderousse raised his glass to his mouth with unsteady hand,

and swallowed the contents at a gulp. Fernand dashed his on

the ground.

"Eh, eh, eh!" stammered Caderousse. "What do I see down

there by the wall, in the direction of the Catalans? Look,

Fernand, your eyes are better than mine. I believe I see

double. You know wine is a deceiver; but I should say it was

two lovers walking side by side, and hand in hand. Heaven

forgive me, they do not know that we can see them, and they

are actually embracing!"

Danglars did not lose one pang that Fernand endured.

"Do you know them, Fernand?" he said.

"Yes," was the reply, in a low voice. "It is Edmond and

Mercedes!"

"Ah, see there, now!" said Caderousse; "and I did not

recognize them! Hallo, Dantes! hello, lovely damsel! Come

this way, and let us know when the wedding is to be, for

Fernand here is so obstinate he will not tell us."

"Hold your tongue, will you?" said Danglars, pretending to

restrain Caderousse, who, with the tenacity of drunkards,

leaned out of the arbor. "Try to stand upright, and let the

lovers make love without interruption. See, look at Fernand,

and follow his example; he is well-behaved!"

Fernand, probably excited beyond bearing, pricked by

Danglars, as the bull is by the bandilleros, was about to

rush out; for he had risen from his seat, and seemed to be

collecting himself to dash headlong upon his rival, when

Mercedes, smiling and graceful, lifted up her lovely head,

and looked at them with her clear and bright eyes. At this

Fernand recollected her threat of dying if Edmond died, and

dropped again heavily on his seat. Danglars looked at the

two men, one after the other, the one brutalized by liquor,

the other overwhelmed with love.

"I shall get nothing from these fools," he muttered; "and I

am very much afraid of being here between a drunkard and a

coward. Here's an envious fellow making himself boozy on

wine when he ought to be nursing his wrath, and here is a

fool who sees the woman he loves stolen from under his nose

and takes on like a big baby. Yet this Catalan has eyes that

glisten like those of the vengeful Spaniards, Sicilians, and

Calabrians, and the other has fists big enough to crush an

ox at one blow. Unquestionably, Edmond's star is in the

ascendant, and he will marry the splendid girl -- he will be

captain, too, and laugh at us all, unless" -- a sinister

smile passed over Danglars' lips -- "unless I take a hand in

the affair," he added.

"Hallo!" continued Caderousse, half-rising, and with his

fist on the table, "hallo, Edmond! do you not see your

friends, or are you too proud to speak to them?"

"No, my dear fellow!" replied Dantes, "I am not proud, but I

am happy, and happiness blinds, I think, more than pride."

"Ah, very well, that's an explanation!" said Caderousse.

"How do you do, Madame Dantes?"

Mercedes courtesied gravely, and said -- "That is not my

name, and in my country it bodes ill fortune, they say, to

call a young girl by the name of her betrothed before he

becomes her husband. So call me Mercedes, if you please."

"We must excuse our worthy neighbor, Caderousse," said

Dantes, "he is so easily mistaken."

"So, then, the wedding is to take place immediately, M.

Dantes," said Danglars, bowing to the young couple.

"As soon as possible, M. Danglars; to-day all preliminaries

will be arranged at my father's, and to-morrow, or next day

at latest, the wedding festival here at La Reserve. My

friends will be there, I hope; that is to say, you are

invited, M. Danglars, and you, Caderousse."

"And Fernand," said Caderousse with a chuckle; "Fernand,

too, is invited!"

"My wife's brother is my brother," said Edmond; "and we,

Mercedes and I, should be very sorry if he were absent at

such a time."

Fernand opened his mouth to reply, but his voice died on his

lips, and he could not utter a word.

"To-day the preliminaries, to-morrow or next day the

ceremony! You are in a hurry, captain!"

"Danglars," said Edmond, smiling, "I will say to you as

Mercedes said just now to Caderousse, `Do not give me a

title which does not belong to me'; that may bring me bad

luck."

"Your pardon," replied Danglars, "I merely said you seemed

in a hurry, and we have lots of time; the Pharaon cannot be

under weigh again in less than three months."

"We are always in a hurry to be happy, M. Danglars; for when

we have suffered a long time, we have great difficulty in

believing in good fortune. But it is not selfishness alone

that makes me thus in haste; I must go to Paris."

"Ah, really? -- to Paris! and will it be the first time you

have ever been there, Dantes?"

"Yes."

"Have you business there?"

"Not of my own; the last commission of poor Captain Leclere;

you know to what I allude, Danglars -- it is sacred.

Besides, I shall only take the time to go and return."

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Danglars, and then in a low

tone, he added, "To Paris, no doubt to deliver the letter

which the grand marshal gave him. Ah, this letter gives me

an idea -- a capital idea! Ah; Dantes, my friend, you are

not yet registered number one on board the good ship

Pharaon;" then turning towards Edmond, who was walking away,

"A pleasant journey," he cried.

"Thank you," said Edmond with a friendly nod, and the two

lovers continued on their way, as calm and joyous as if they

were the very elect of heaven.

Chapter 4 Conspiracy.

2008-04-20T12:35:00.003-07:00

Chapter 4 Conspiracy.

Danglars followed Edmond and Mercedes with his eyes until

the two lovers disappeared behind one of the angles of Fort

Saint Nicolas, then turning round, he perceived Fernand, who

had fallen, pale and trembling, into his chair, while

Caderousse stammered out the words of a drinking-song.

"Well, my dear sir," said Danglars to Fernand, "here is a

marriage which does not appear to make everybody happy."

"It drives me to despair," said Fernand.

"Do you, then, love Mercedes?"

"I adore her!"

"For long?"

"As long as I have known her -- always."

"And you sit there, tearing your hair, instead of seeking to

remedy your condition; I did not think that was the way of

your people."

"What would you have me do?" said Fernand.

"How do I know? Is it my affair? I am not in love with

Mademoiselle Mercedes; but for you -- in the words of the

gospel, seek, and you shall find."

"I have found already."

"What?"

"I would stab the man, but the woman told me that if any

misfortune happened to her betrothed, she would kill

herself."

"Pooh! Women say those things, but never do them."

"You do not know Mercedes; what she threatens she will do."

"Idiot!" muttered Danglars; "whether she kill herself or

not, what matter, provided Dantes is not captain?"

"Before Mercedes should die," replied Fernand, with the

accents of unshaken resolution, "I would die myself!"

"That's what I call love!" said Caderousse with a voice more

tipsy than ever. "That's love, or I don't know what love

is."

"Come," said Danglars, "you appear to me a good sort of

fellow, and hang me, I should like to help you, but" --

"Yes," said Caderousse, "but how?"

"My dear fellow," replied Danglars, "you are three parts

drunk; finish the bottle, and you will be completely so.

Drink then, and do not meddle with what we are discussing,

for that requires all one's wit and cool judgment."

"I -- drunk!" said Caderousse; "well that's a good one! I

could drink four more such bottles; they are no bigger than

cologne flasks. Pere Pamphile, more wine!" and Caderousse

rattled his glass upon the table.

"You were saving, sir" -- said Fernand, awaiting with great

anxiety the end of this interrupted remark.

"What was I saying? I forget. This drunken Caderousse has

made me lose the thread of my sentence."

"Drunk, if you like; so much the worse for those who fear

wine, for it is because they have bad thoughts which they

are afraid the liquor will extract from their hearts;" and

Caderousse began to sing the two last lines of a song very

popular at the time, --

`Tous les mechants sont beuveurs d'eau;

C'est bien prouve par le deluge.'*

* "The wicked are great drinkers of water

As the flood proved once for all."

"You said, sir, you would like to help me, but" --

"Yes; but I added, to help you it would be sufficient that

Dantes did not marry her you love; and the marriage may

easily be thwarted, methinks, and yet Dantes need not die."

"Death alone can separate them," remarked Fernand.

"You talk like a noodle, my friend," said Caderousse; "and

here is Danglars, who is a wide-awake, clever, deep fellow,

who will prove to you that you are wrong. Prove it,

Danglars. I have answered for you. Say there is no need why

Dantes should die; it would, indeed, be a pity he should.

Dantes is a good fellow; I like Dantes. Dantes, your

health."

Fernand rose impatiently. "Let him run on," said Danglars,

restraining the young man; "drunk as he is, he is not much

out in what he says. Absence severs as well as death, and if

the walls of a prison were between Edmond and Mercedes they

would be as effectually separated as if he lay under a

tombstone."

"Yes; but one gets out of prison," said Caderousse, who,

with what sense was left him, listened eagerly to the

conversation, "and when one gets out and one's name is

Edmond Dantes, one seeks revenge" --

"What matters that?" muttered Fernand.

"And why, I should like to know," persisted Caderousse,

"should they put Dantes in prison? he has not robbed or

killed or murdered."

"Hold your tongue!" said Danglars.

"I won't hold my tongue!" replied Caderousse; "I say I want

to know why they should put Dantes in prison; I like Dantes;

Dantes, your health!" and he swallowed another glass of

wine.

Danglars saw in the muddled look of the tailor the progress

of his intoxication, and turning towards Fernand, said,

"Well, you understand there is no need to kill him."

"Certainly not, if, as you said just now, you have the means

of having Dantes arrested. Have you that means?"

"It is to be found for the searching. But why should I

meddle in the matter? it is no affair of mine.";

"I know not why you meddle," said Fernand, seizing his arm;

"but this I know, you have some motive of personal hatred

against Dantes, for he who himself hates is never mistaken

in the sentiments of others."

"I! -- motives of hatred against Dantes? None, on my word! I

saw you were unhappy, and your unhappiness interested me;

that's all; but since you believe I act for my own account,

adieu, my dear friend, get out of the affair as best you

may;" and Danglars rose as if he meant to depart.

"No, no," said Fernand, restraining him, "stay! It is of

very little consequence to me at the end of the matter

whether you have any angry feeling or not against Dantes. I

hate him! I confess it openly. Do you find the means, I will

execute it, provided it is not to kill the man, for Mercedes

has declared she will kill herself if Dantes is killed."

Caderousse, who had let his head drop on the table, now

raised it, and looking at Fernand with his dull and fishy

eyes, he said, -- "Kill Dantes! who talks of killing Dantes?

I won't have him killed -- I won't! He's my friend, and this

morning offered to share his money with me, as I shared mine

with him. I won't have Dantes killed -- I won't!"

"And who has said a word about killing him, muddlehead?"

replied Danglars. "We were merely joking; drink to his

health," he added, filling Caderousse's glass, "and do not

interfere with us."

"Yes, yes, Dantes' good health!" said Caderousse, emptying

his glass, "here's to his health! his health -- hurrah!"

"But the means -- the means?" said Fernand.

"Have you not hit upon any?" asked Danglars.

"No! -- you undertook to do so."

"True," replied Danglars; "the French have the superiority

over the Spaniards, that the Spaniards ruminate, while the

French invent."

"Do you invent, then," said Fernand impatiently.

"Waiter," said Danglars, "pen, ink, and paper."

"Pen, ink, and paper," muttered Fernand.

"Yes; I am a supercargo; pen, ink, and paper are my tools,

and without my tools I am fit for nothing."

"Pen, ink, and paper, then," called Fernand loudly.

"There's what you want on that table," said the waiter.

"Bring them here." The waiter did as he was desired.

"When one thinks," said Caderousse, letting his hand drop on

the paper, "there is here wherewithal to kill a man more

sure than if we waited at the corner of a wood to

assassinate him! I have always had more dread of a pen, a

bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper, than of a sword or

pistol."

"The fellow is not so drunk as he appears to be," said

Danglars. "Give him some more wine, Fernand." Fernand filled

Caderousse's glass, who, like the confirmed toper he was,

lifted his hand from the paper and seized the glass.

The Catalan watched him until Caderousse, almost overcome by

this fresh assault on his senses, rested, or rather dropped,

his glass upon the table.

"Well!" resumed the Catalan, as he saw the final glimmer of

Caderousse's reason vanishing before the last glass of wine.

"Well, then, I should say, for instance," resumed Danglars,

"that if after a voyage such as Dantes has just made, in

which he touched at the Island of Elba, some one were to

denounce him to the king's procureur as a Bonapartist agent"

"I will denounce him!" exclaimed the young man hastily.

"Yes, but they will make you then sign your declaration, and

confront you with him you have denounced; I will supply you

with the means of supporting your accusation, for I know the

fact well. But Dantes cannot remain forever in prison, and

one day or other he will leave it, and the day when he comes

out, woe betide him who was the cause of his incarceration!"

"Oh, I should wish nothing better than that he would come

and seek a quarrel with me."

"Yes, and Mercedes! Mercedes, who will detest you if you

have only the misfortune to scratch the skin of her dearly

beloved Edmond!"

"True!" said Fernand.

"No, no," continued Danglars; "if we resolve on such a step,

it would be much better to take, as I now do, this pen, dip

it into this ink, and write with the left hand (that the

writing may not be recognized) the denunciation we propose."

And Danglars, uniting practice with theory, wrote with his

left hand, and in a writing reversed from his usual style,

and totally unlike it, the following lines, which he handed

to Fernand, and which Fernand read in an undertone: --

"The honorable, the king's attorney, is informed by a friend

of the throne and religion, that one Edmond Dantes, mate of

the ship Pharaon, arrived this morning from Smyrna, after

having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has been

intrusted by Murat with a letter for the usurper, and by the

usurper with a letter for the Bonapartist committee in

Paris. Proof of this crime will be found on arresting him,

for the letter will be found upon him, or at his father's,

or in his cabin on board the Pharaon."

"Very good," resumed Danglars; "now your revenge looks like

common-sense, for in no way can it revert to yourself, and

the matter will thus work its own way; there is nothing to

do now but fold the letter as I am doing, and write upon it,

`To the king's attorney,' and that's all settled." And

Danglars wrote the address as he spoke.

"Yes, and that's all settled!" exclaimed Caderousse, who, by

a last effort of intellect, had followed the reading of the

letter, and instinctively comprehended all the misery which

such a denunciation must entail. "Yes, and that's all

settled; only it will be an infamous shame;" and he

stretched out his hand to reach the letter.

"Yes," said Danglars, taking it from beyond his reach; "and

as what I say and do is merely in jest, and I, amongst the

first and foremost, should be sorry if anything happened to

Dantes -- the worthy Dantes -- look here!" And taking the

letter, he squeezed it up in his hands and threw it into a

corner of the arbor.

"All right!" said Caderousse. "Dantes is my friend, and I

won't have him ill-used."

"And who thinks of using him ill? Certainly neither I nor

Fernand," said Danglars, rising and looking at the young

man, who still remained seated, but whose eye was fixed on

the denunciatory sheet of paper flung into the corner.

"In this case," replied Caderousse, "let's have some more

wine. I wish to drink to the health of Edmond and the lovely

Mercedes."

"You have had too much already, drunkard," said Danglars;

"and if you continue, you will be compelled to sleep here,

because unable to stand on your legs."

"I?" said Caderousse, rising with all the offended dignity

of a drunken man, "I can't keep on my legs? Why, I'll wager

I can go up into the belfry of the Accoules, and without

staggering, too!"

"Done!" said Danglars, "I'll take your bet; but to-morrow --

to-day it is time to return. Give me your arm, and let us

go."

"Very well, let us go," said Caderousse; "but I don't want

your arm at all. Come, Fernand, won't you return to

Marseilles with us?"

"No," said Fernand; "I shall return to the Catalans."

"You're wrong. Come with us to Marseilles -- come along."

"I will not."

"What do you mean? you will not? Well, just as you like, my

prince; there's liberty for all the world. Come along,

Danglars, and let the young gentleman return to the Catalans

if he chooses."

Danglars took advantage of Caderousse's temper at the

moment, to take him off towards Marseilles by the Porte

Saint-Victor, staggering as he went.

When they had advanced about twenty yards, Danglars looked

back and saw Fernand stoop, pick up the crumpled paper, and

putting it into his pocket then rush out of the arbor

towards Pillon.

"Well," said Caderousse, "why, what a lie he told! He said

he was going to the Catalans, and he is going to the city.

Hallo, Fernand!"

"Oh, you don't see straight," said Danglars; "he's gone

right enough."

"Well," said Caderousse, "I should have said not -- how

treacherous wine is!"

"Come, come," said Danglars to himself, "now the thing is at

work and it will effect its purpose unassisted."