The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (166 page)

He returned quietly to his desk and wrote beneath the first lines:

‘I bequeath to Maximilien Morrel, captain of spahis and son of my former master, Pierre Morrel, shipowner of Marseille, the sum of twenty million francs, a part of which he will give to his sister Julie and to his brother-in-law Emmanuel, provided he does not think that this excess of wealth might threaten their happiness. These twenty millions are buried in my caves on Monte Cristo, the secret of which is known to Bertuccio.

‘If his heart is free and he wishes to marry Haydée, daughter of Ali Pasha of Janina, whom I have brought up with the love of a father and who has shown the affection of a daughter towards me, then he will carry out, if not the last impulse of my will, at least the last desire of my heart.

‘The present will has already appointed Haydée heiress to the rest of my fortune, consisting of lands, liquid assets in England, Austria and Holland, and movable property in my different palaces and houses; and which, after these twenty millions have been subtracted, could still amount to sixty million francs.’

He had just finished writing this last line when a cry behind him made the pen fall from his hand. ‘Haydée,’ he said. ‘Did you read it?’

The young woman, awakened by the daylight falling on her
eyelids, had got up and come in to the count without him hearing her light steps, muffled by the carpet.

‘Oh, my lord,’ she said, clasping her hands. ‘Why are you writing at such an hour? Why are you bequeathing me all your fortune, my lord? Are you leaving me?’

‘I am going on a journey, my angel,’ Monte Cristo said with an expression of infinite melancholy and tenderness. ‘And if some misfortune should befall me…’ He paused.

‘Well?’ the young woman asked in an authoritative voice that the count had not heard before. It made him shudder.

‘Well, if some misfortune should befall me,’ he continued, ‘I want my girl to be happy.’

Haydée smiled sadly and shook her head. ‘Are you thinking about death, my Lord?’ she asked.

‘It’s a salutary thought, my child, the sages say.’

‘Well, then, if you die,’ she said, ‘leave your wealth to someone else, because if you die… I shall no longer need anything.’ Taking the paper, she tore it into four parts, which she scattered in the middle of the room. After that, exhausted by this expenditure of energy, so unusual for a slave girl, she fell to the ground, not asleep this time, but in a faint.

Monte Cristo bent over her and lifted her in his arms. Seeing her pale complexion, her lovely closed eyes, this beautiful body, senseless, as though in abandon… for the first time it occurred to him that she might perhaps love him in some way other than that in which a daughter loves her father. ‘Alas!’ he murmured, with profound despondency. ‘So I might yet have been happy!’

He carried Haydée into her apartments, entrusted her, still senseless, to the care of her women, and, returning to his study (and this time locking the door behind him), he recopied the torn will.

Just as he was coming to the end, he heard the noise of a cab driving into the courtyard. He went over to the window and saw Maximilien and Emmanuel getting out. ‘Good – about time!’ he said. And he sealed his will with three seals.

A moment later he heard the sound of footsteps in the drawing-room and went to open the study door himself. Morrel appeared on the threshold. It was twenty minutes before the appointed time.

‘I may be early, Count,’ he said. ‘But I admit frankly that I have been unable to sleep for a minute, and the same was true of everyone
in our house. I needed to see you, strengthened by your courage and confidence, to recover myself.’

Monte Cristo could not let this proof of affection go unacknowledged, and it was not his hand but both arms that he opened to greet him, saying, in a voice full of emotion: ‘Morrel, it is a fine day for me when I feel myself to have gained the affection of a man such as you. Good morning, Monsieur Emmanuel. So, Maximilien, are you coming with me?’

‘By heaven!’ said the young captain. ‘Did you ever doubt it?’

‘But suppose I were in the wrong…’

‘Listen: I watched you yesterday throughout that incident when you were provoked, and all last night I was thinking of your self-confidence. I decided that justice must be on your side, or else one can no longer trust in the look on a man’s face.’

‘Yet Albert is your friend, Morrel.’

‘A mere acquaintance, Count.’

‘Did you meet him for the first time on the day we met?’

‘Yes, that’s right. Well, then, you see? You had to remind me before I remembered it.’

‘Thank you, Morrel.’ Then, striking the bell, he said, when Ali at once answered the call: ‘Take this to my notary. It’s my will, Morrel. When I am dead, please go and consult it.’

‘What do you mean,’ said Morrel, ‘… when you are dead?’

‘Oh, one must prepare for any eventuality, dear friend. But what did you do yesterday after you left me?’

‘I went to Tortoni’s where, as I expected, I found Beauchamp and Château-Renaud. I must admit I was looking for them.’

‘Why, since everything was settled?’

‘Come, Count, this matter is serious, unavoidable.’

‘Did you ever doubt that?’

‘No. The insult was public and everyone was already talking about it.’

‘So?’

‘So, I hoped to have a change of weapons and substitute swords for pistols. Pistols are blind.’

‘Did you succeed?’ Monte Cristo asked, with an imperceptible glimmer of hope.

‘No, because they know your skill with the sword.’

‘Pah! Who gave my secret away?’

‘The fencing masters who were worsted by you.’

‘So you failed?’

‘They refused outright.’

‘Morrel,’ the count said, ‘have you ever seen me fire a pistol?’

‘No, never.’

‘Well, we have time. Watch.’

Monte Cristo took the pistols that he had been holding when Mercédès came in and, sticking an ace of clubs to the board, he shot off each of the four points of the club. Morrel went paler with every shot. He examined the bullets with which Monte Cristo had achieved this
tour de force
and saw that they were no larger than buckshot.

‘It’s terrifying,’ he said. ‘Look, Emmanuel!’ Then, turning back to Monte Cristo, he said: ‘Count, in heaven’s name, don’t kill Albert. The wretch has a mother!’

‘Indeed he has,’ said Monte Cristo. ‘And I have none.’

Morrel shuddered at the voice in which these words were spoken.

‘You are the injured party, Count.’

‘Certainly. What does that mean?’

‘It means that you will fire first.’

‘I will?’

‘Oh, yes. That much I did manage to obtain or, rather, I insisted on it. We are making enough concessions to them: they had to agree to that.’

‘From how many paces?’

‘Twenty.’

A terrible smile passed over the count’s lips. ‘Morrel,’ he said, ‘don’t forget what you have just seen.’

‘So I am counting on your human feelings to save Albert,’ the young man said.

‘My feelings?’ said the count.

‘Or your generosity, my friend. Since you are so sure of hitting your mark, I can say something to you that would be ridiculous if I said it to anyone else.’

‘Which is?’

‘Break his arm, wound him, but don’t kill him.’

‘Now listen to this, Morrel,’ said the count. ‘I need no encouragement to deal gently with Monsieur de Morcerf. Indeed Monsieur de Morcerf, I can tell you now, will be treated so kindly that he will go home quietly with his two friends, while I…’

‘You will… what?’

‘That’s another matter. I shall be brought back.’

‘Come, come!’ cried Maximilien, beside himself.

‘It’s as I am telling you, my dear Morrel. Monsieur de Morcerf will kill me.’

Morrel looked at the count like a man who no longer understands what is being said.

‘What has happened to you since yesterday evening, Count?’

‘What happened to Brutus on the eve of the Battle of Philippi:
¹
I have seen a ghost.’

‘And this ghost?’

‘This ghost, Morrel, told me that I had lived long enough.’

Maximilien and Morrel exchanged looks.

Monte Cristo took out his watch. ‘Let’s go,’ he said. ‘It is five to seven, and the appointment is for exactly eight o’clock.’

A carriage was waiting, ready harnessed. Monte Cristo got into it with his two seconds.

Crossing the corridor, he paused to listen by a door. Maximilien and Emmanuel, who had tactfully carried on for a few steps, thought they heard a sigh answering a sob.

As the clock struck eight, they arrived at the meeting-place. ‘Here we are,’ said Morrel, putting his head out of the window. ‘We are the first.’

‘The gentleman will excuse me,’ said Baptistin, who had accompanied his master, in a state of unspeakable terror, ‘but I believe I can see a carriage over there, under the trees.’

‘So there is,’ said Emmanuel. ‘I can see two young men walking together. They seem to be waiting.’

Monte Cristo jumped lightly down from his barouche and offered Emmanuel and Maximilien his hand so that they could follow. Maximilien kept the count’s hand in his. ‘That’s better,’ he said. ‘There’s the sort of hand I like to see on a man whose life depends on the rightness of his cause.’

Unobtrusively Monte Cristo held Morrel back a few paces behind his brother-in-law. ‘Maximilien,’ he said, ‘is your heart pledged to anyone?’

Morrel looked at him with astonishment.

‘I’m not asking you to confide any secrets in me, my good fellow. It is a simple question, and all I ask is that you should answer yes or no.’

‘I am in love with a young woman, Count.’

‘Very much in love?’

‘More than life itself.’

‘Ah, well,’ said Monte Cristo. ‘That’s another hope gone.’ Then he added under his breath, with a sigh: ‘Poor Haydée!’

‘I must say, Count, if I didn’t know you so well, I should think you less resolute than you are!’ said Morrel.

‘Because I am sighing at the thought of someone I must leave behind? Now, now, Morrel, does a soldier know so little about courage? Do I mind losing my life? What can it mean, to live or die, to me, who have spent twenty years hovering between life and death? In any case have no fear, Morrel: even if this were a weakness, it would be for your eyes alone. I know that the world is a drawing-room from which one must retire politely and honourably, that is to say, with a bow, after paying one’s gaming debts.’

‘That’s better,’ said Morrel. ‘Now you’re talking. By the way, have you brought your weapons?’

‘Why should I? I hope that these gentlemen will have theirs.’

‘I shall find out,’ said Morrel.

‘Yes, but no negotiation, you understand?’

‘Oh, rest assured of that.’

Morrel crossed over to Beauchamp and Château-Renaud. The latter, seeing Maximilien coming, advanced to meet him. The three young men greeted one another, if not with warmth, at least politely.

‘I beg your pardon, gentlemen,’ said Morrel. ‘I don’t see Monsieur de Morcerf.’

‘He sent a message to us this morning,’ Château-Renaud replied, ‘saying that he would join us here.’

‘Ah!’ said Morrel.

Beauchamp took out his watch. ‘Five past eight: no time has been lost, Monsieur Morrel,’ he said.

‘That was not why I remarked on it,’ Maximilien replied.

‘In any event,’ said Château-Renaud, interrupting, ‘here is a carriage.’

A carriage was proceeding at a full trot down one of the avenues leading to the crossroads at which they were standing.

‘Gentlemen,’ said Morrel, ‘you have doubtless brought some pistols with you. Monsieur de Monte Cristo has said he is ready to waive his right to use his own weapons.’

‘We anticipated this courteous gesture by the count,’ Beauchamp
replied. ‘I have brought some pistols which I purchased a week or ten days ago, thinking I might need them for an affair such as this one. They are entirely new and have never been fired. Would you like to inspect them?’

‘Oh, Monsieur Beauchamp,’ said Morrel, bowing. ‘Since you assure me that Monsieur de Morcerf is unacquainted with these weapons, I suppose you must realize that your word is enough?’

‘Gentlemen,’ said Château-Renaud. ‘It was not after all Morcerf whom we saw arriving in that carriage. It was, believe it or not, Franz and Debray!’

As he said it, the two young men in question were coming over to them. ‘You here, gentlemen!’ Château-Renaud said, shaking hands with each of them. ‘What brings you?’

‘Albert does,’ said Debray. ‘He sent a message this morning for us to be here.’

Beauchamp and Château-Renaud looked at each other in astonishment.

‘Gentlemen,’ said Morrel, ‘I may have the answer.’

‘Tell us!’

‘Yesterday afternoon, I received a letter from Monsieur de Morcerf asking me to be at the opera.’