The Count of Monte Cristo (The Wild and Wanton Edition) (8 page)

After their departure, Fernand, who had now again become the friend and protector of Mercedes, led the girl to her home, while the friends of Dantes conducted the now half-fainting man back to his abode.

The rumor of Edmond’s arrest as a Bonapartist agent was not slow in circulating throughout the city.

“Could you ever have credited such a thing, my dear Danglars?” asked M. Morrel, as, on his return to the port for the purpose of gleaning fresh tidings of Dantes, from M. de Villefort, the assistant procureur, he overtook his supercargo and Caderousse. “Could you have believed such a thing possible?”

“Why, you know I told you,” replied Danglars, “that I considered the circumstance of his having anchored at the Island of Elba as a very suspicious circumstance.”

“And did you mention these suspicions to any person beside myself?”

“Certainly not!” returned Danglars. Then added in a low whisper, “You understand that, on account of your uncle, M. Policar Morrel, who served under the other government, and who does not altogether conceal what he thinks on the subject, you are strongly suspected of regretting the abdication of Napoleon. I should have feared to injure both Edmond and yourself, had I divulged my own apprehensions to a soul. I am too well aware that though a subordinate, like myself, is bound to acquaint the shipowner with everything that occurs, there are many things he ought most carefully to conceal from all else.”

“‘Tis well, Danglars — ’tis well!” replied M. Morrel. “You are a worthy fellow; and I had already thought of your interests in the event of poor Edmond having become captain of the
Pharaon
.”

“Is it possible you were so kind?”

“Yes, indeed; I had previously inquired of Dantes what was his opinion of you, and if he should have any reluctance to continue you in your post, for somehow I have perceived a sort of coolness between you.”

“And what was his reply?”

“That he certainly did think he had given you offence in an affair which he merely referred to without entering into particulars, but that whoever possessed the good opinion and confidence of the ship’s owner would have his preference also.”

“The hypocrite!” murmured Danglars.

“Poor Dantes!” said Caderousse. “No one can deny his being a noble-hearted young fellow.”

“But meanwhile,” continued M. Morrel, “here is the
Pharaon
without a captain.”

“Oh,” replied Danglars, “since we cannot leave this port for the next three months, let us hope that ere the expiration of that period Dantes will be set at liberty.”

“No doubt; but in the meantime?”

“I am entirely at your service, M. Morrel,” answered Danglars. “You know that I am as capable of managing a ship as the most experienced captain in the service; and it will be so far advantageous to you to accept my services, that upon Edmond’s release from prison no further change will be requisite on board the
Pharaon
than for Dantes and myself each to resume our respective posts.”

“Thanks, Danglars — that will smooth over all difficulties. I fully authorize you at once to assume the command of the
Pharaon
, and look carefully to the unloading of her freight. Private misfortunes must never be allowed to interfere with business.”

“Be easy on that score, M. Morrel; but do you think we shall be permitted to see our poor Edmond?”

“I will let you know that directly I have seen M. de Villefort, whom I shall endeavor to interest in Edmond’s favor. I am aware he is a furious royalist; but, in spite of that, and of his being king’s attorney, he is a man like ourselves, and I fancy not a bad sort of one.”

“Perhaps not,” replied Danglars; “but I hear that he is ambitious, and that’s rather against him.”

“Well, well,” returned M. Morrel, “we shall see. But now hasten on board, I will join you there ere long.” So saying, the worthy shipowner quitted the two allies, and proceeded in the direction of the Palais de Justice.

“You see,” said Danglars, addressing Caderousse, “the turn things have taken. Do you still feel any desire to stand up in his defense?”

“Not the slightest, but yet it seems to me a shocking thing that a mere joke should lead to such consequences.”

“But who perpetrated that joke, let me ask? neither you nor myself, but Fernand; you knew very well that I threw the paper into a corner of the room — indeed, I fancied I had destroyed it.”

“Oh, no,” replied Caderousse, “that I can answer for, you did not. I only wish I could see it now as plainly as I saw it lying all crushed and crumpled in a corner of the arbor.”

“Well, then, if you did, depend upon it, Fernand picked it up, and either copied it or caused it to be copied; perhaps, even, he did not take the trouble of recopying it. And now I think of it, by Heavens, he may have sent the letter itself! Fortunately, for me, the handwriting was disguised.”

“Then you were aware of Dantes being engaged in a conspiracy?”

“Not I. As I before said, I thought the whole thing was a joke, nothing more. It seems, however, that I have unconsciously stumbled upon the truth.”

“Still,” argued Caderousse, “I would give a great deal if nothing of the kind had happened; or, at least, that I had had no hand in it. You will see, Danglars, that it will turn out an unlucky job for both of us.”

“Nonsense! If any harm come of it, it should fall on the guilty person; and that, you know, is Fernand. How can we be implicated in any way? All we have got to do is, to keep our own counsel, and remain perfectly quiet; not breathing a word to any living soul; and you will see that the storm will pass away without in the least affecting us.”

“Amen!” responded Caderousse, waving his hand in token of adieu to Danglars, and bending his steps towards the Allees de Meillan, moving his head to and fro, and muttering as he went, after the manner of one whose mind was overcharged with one absorbing idea.

“So far, then,” said Danglars, mentally, “all has gone as I would have it. I am, temporarily, commander of the
Pharaon
, with the certainty of being permanently so, if that fool of a Caderousse can be persuaded to hold his tongue. My only fear is the chance of Dantes being released. But, there, he is in the hands of Justice; and,” added he with a smile, “she will take her own.” So saying, he leaped into a boat, desiring to be rowed on board the
Pharaon
, where M. Morrel had agreed to meet him.

In one of the aristocratic mansions built by Puget in the Rue du Grand Cours opposite the Medusa fountain, a second marriage feast was being celebrated, almost at the same hour with the nuptial repast given by Dantes. In this case, however, although the occasion of the entertainment was similar, the company was strikingly dissimilar. Instead of a rude mixture of sailors, soldiers, and those belonging to the humblest grade of life, the present assembly was composed of the very flower of Marseilles society, — magistrates who had resigned their office during the usurper’s reign; officers who had deserted from the imperial army and joined forces with Conde; and younger members of families, brought up to hate and execrate the man whom five years of exile would convert into a martyr, and fifteen of restoration elevate to the rank of a god.

The guests were still at table, and the heated and energetic conversation that prevailed betrayed the violent and vindictive passions that then agitated each dweller of the South, where unhappily, for five centuries religious strife had long given increased bitterness to the violence of party feeling.

The emperor, now king of the petty Island of Elba, after having held sovereign sway over one-half of the world, counting as his subjects a small population of five or six thousand souls, — after having been accustomed to hear the “Vive Napoleons” of a hundred and twenty millions of human beings, uttered in ten different languages, — was looked upon here as a ruined man, separated forever from any fresh connection with France or claim to her throne.

The magistrates freely discussed their political views; the military part of the company talked unreservedly of Moscow and Leipsic, while the women commented on the divorce of Josephine. It was not over the downfall of the man, but over the defeat of the Napoleonic idea, that they rejoiced, and in this they foresaw for themselves the bright and cheering prospect of a revivified political existence.

An old man, decorated with the cross of Saint Louis, now rose and proposed the health of King Louis XVIII. It was the Marquis de Saint-Meran. This toast, recalling at once the patient exile of Hartwell and the peace-loving King of France, excited universal enthusiasm; glasses were elevated in the air a l’Anglais, and the ladies, snatching their bouquets from their fair bosoms, strewed the table with their floral treasures. In a word, an almost poetical fervor prevailed.

“Ah,” said the Marquise de Saint-Meran, a woman with a stern, forbidding eye, though still noble and distinguished in appearance, despite her fifty years — “ah, these revolutionists, who have driven us from those very possessions they afterwards purchased for a mere trifle during the Reign of Terror, would be compelled to own, were they here, that all true devotion was on our side, since we were content to follow the fortunes of a falling monarch, while they, on the contrary, made their fortune by worshipping the rising sun; yes, yes, they could not help admitting that the king, for whom we sacrificed rank, wealth, and station was truly our ‘Louis the well-beloved,’ while their wretched usurper his been, and ever will be, to them their evil genius, their ‘Napoleon the accursed.’ Am I not right, Villefort?”

Villefort had no ear for the evening’s conversation, his attention attuned to his betrothed and her hand beneath the crisp tablecloth. Her smooth white fingers undid his breeches and nothing on Earth could have drawn his attention away from her movements. The conversation continued around them as she took his flaccid member in hand while he stifled an inhale, almost giving the game away. She worked him slow and steady, allowing him time to grow rigid, the blood pounding in his ears as slid her hand in sharp vertical motions. The dinner party swirled around them, and this was the perfect way to celebrate his betrothal to one of the most beautiful and innocent maids at the height of social standing.

“Are you enjoying the celebration?” Renee whispered for him alone, careful to keep the deep timbre of her voice low; a breathy tingle perfused each word she spoke against his neck.

“My lady, I do believe it is one of the best soirees I have had the pleasure of attending.” He smirked at her, allowing her to see the jest, but she punished him, dragging her hand back up and down the length of him again. A hiss escaped his closed lips but glancing around proved no one noticed what the young Renee did beneath the table. He reached down and gently untangled her clutch.

Villefort refastened his pants and Renee re-donned her dinner glove under the cover of the tablecloth.

“Mademoiselle, might I have the pleasure of speaking to you alone?” Villefort asked, somewhat loud, drawing the table’s attention.

“Of course, Monsieur.” Renee bowed her head in acquiescence, then smiled and nodded assurances at her mother and father before quietly following Villefort out the nearest door. He seized her just as the clock ticked like a cannon blast in complete silence. His hands lifted her skirts and found her seeping center in only moments. This was how it had always been between them, since the first time her quiet grin ensnared him and then the first night she snuck to an alcove to lie in his arms.

“Why, Mademoiselle, I do believe I might help you with your little problem.” Villefort rubbed his thumb across her pearl, her skirts wrinkling, crushed between him and the door.

“Monsieur, please, I beg you, ease me.”

“Oh, my love, I will, once you prove to me how much you want it.” With those words, Villefort released Renee and pushed her hard to her knees. As she bent down she made quick work of the elbow length gloves encasing her slender arms. Under usual circumstances she might have removed her gloves in an almost sensual fashion and Villefort would have enjoyed watching her careful movements. Having been in this position many times before, Renee knew exactly what he enjoyed. She gripped him hard, a painful grip most men might crumple under, but he did not. Her lips closed around him, and he delved his hand into the bottom of her chignon, even then careful not to undo something they could not repair in haste.

“Does the taste of me please you, Renee?”

She made an unintelligible noise and continued the ministrations of her mouth as he guided her head with his hand.

“I have yet to understand how you can play such an innocent in public yet outside the parlors and ballrooms you are wanton and completely unapologetic about it. I am honestly more concerned with the fact that no one speaks of it — none of the men in court, that is.”

Renee lifted her head. “What leads you to the conclusion I have had many men? Perhaps I read too many novels?” Her raised eyebrow and the way her eyes suggested more than she spoke, was his undoing. He lifted her bodily by the arms and pushed her back against the door. They had made love quite a few times but never fucked, never experienced this raw, sensual passion that ignited his blood and turned her knees to gelatin. Each finger bit into the tender flesh of her hip as he pushed inside her already wet, hot center.

She writhed in his hands, small and slight, which never failed to surprise him, her costume making up the bulk of her figure to anyone who had not the pleasure of getting beneath them.

“Renee.” Villefort exhaled her name as he bent his knees and pumped up into her with more force. Each thrust brought on new sensations, a tingling awareness that the end was near. At this moment, no part of their bodies could be close enough, touching quiet enough, and as much skin was upon skin as possible in the rushed circumstances. The clutching and groping only increased until Villefort felt Renee’s body spasm around him; this proved the catalyst that sent him over the edge and into oblivion. In the moments after completion there always seemed to be a heavy silence, filled only with the sound of a couple’s mingled breaths and heavy heartbeats. Villefort and Renee shared a moment such as this, joined together through mashed clothes and silent panting. Even now they both knew that their relationship could grow to love from the infinite spark of their lustful natures.