The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (88 page)

‘ “Well, do at least put the diamond back in the ring,” said La Carconte sourly.

‘ “That’s fair,” said the jeweller, replacing the stone in its setting.

‘ “Very well, very well,” Caderousse said, putting the bag back in his pocket. “We’ll sell it to someone else.”

‘ “Do,” the jeweller said, “though he may not be as easy as I am. Someone else might not be satisfied with the explanation you gave me. It is not normal for a man like you to have a diamond of fifty thousand francs. This other person will probably inform the magistrate, Abbé Busoni will have to be found – and it’s not easy to find an abbé who gives away diamonds worth two thousand
louis
! Then they would start by arresting him, they would send you
to prison and, even if you were found innocent and released after three or four months inside, the ring would have been mislaid in the clerk of the court’s office, or else they would give you a piece of glass worth three francs instead of a diamond worth fifty thousand, or at best fifty-five – but which, as you must admit, my good fellow, represents a risk to the buyer.”

‘Caderousse and his wife exchanged looks. “No,” he said. “We are not rich enough to lose five thousand francs.”

‘ “As you wish, friend,” said the jeweller. “But, as you can see, I have brought the sum in cash.” And he took a handful of gold from one pocket and held it, shining, before the dazzled eyes of the innkeeper, and a bundle of banknotes from the other.

‘It was clear that there was a battle going on inside Caderousse: obviously the little shagreen bag which he was turning over and over in his hands did not appear to him to correspond in value to the huge sum of money which mesmerized him. He turned back to his wife.

‘ “What do you think?” he whispered.

‘ “Go on, give it to him,” she said. “If he returns to Beaucaire without the diamond, he will report us! And, as he says, no one knows whether we shall ever be able to put our hands on Abbé Busoni again.”

‘ “Very well, agreed,” said Caderousse. “Take the diamond for forty-five thousand. But my wife wants a gold chain and I a pair of silver buckles.”

‘ “The jeweller took a long flat box out of his pocket containing several examples of the required objects. “Go on,” he said. “I do business fairly. Choose what you want.”

‘The woman chose a gold chain that was possibly worth five
louis
and her husband a pair of buckles worth around five francs.

‘ “I hope you’re satisfied,” said the jeweller.

‘ “The abbé said it was worth fifty thousand,” Caderousse muttered.

‘ “Come, come, now. Give over! What a terrible creature!” the jeweller said, taking the diamond from his hands. “I am giving him forty-five thousand francs and two thousand five hundred in kind, all of which adds up to a fortune that I wouldn’t mind having myself, and he still isn’t satisfied.”

‘ “And what about the forty-five thousand francs?” Caderousse demanded hoarsely. “Where are they?”

‘ “Here,” said the jeweller, and he counted out fifteen thousand francs on the table in gold and thirty thousand in banknotes.

‘ “Just wait while I light the lamp,” said La Carconte. “It’s getting dark and we might make a mistake.”

‘Night had indeed fallen while they were discussing this and, with it, the storm that had been threatening for the past half-hour. In the distance you could hear the dull rolls of thunder, but neither the jeweller, nor Caderousse, nor La Carconte seemed to be bothered by it, all three being possessed by the demon of greed. Even I felt a strange fascination at the sight of all that gold and all those banknotes. It seemed to me that I was dreaming; and, as happens in dreams, I felt rooted to the spot.

‘Caderousse counted and re-counted the gold and the notes, then passed them to his wife, who counted and re-counted them in her turn.

‘Meanwhile the jeweller was turning the diamond in the rays of the lamp, and the diamond gleamed with flashes that outshone those, heralding the storm, that were starting to light up the window.

‘ “Is it all there?” the jeweller asked.

‘ “Yes,” said Caderousse. “Give me the portfolio and look for a bag, Carconte.”

‘La Carconte went to a wardrobe and came back carrying an old leather portfolio, out of which they took a few greasy letters which they replaced with the notes, and a bag in which there were two or three
écus
of six
livres
, which probably represented the unfortunate couple’s entire fortune.

‘ “There,” said Caderousse. “Even though you may have underpaid us by about ten thousand francs, would you like to take supper with us? You’re welcome.”

‘ “Thank you,” said the jeweller, “but it must be getting late and I have to return to Beaucaire. My wife will be worried.” He took out his watch. “Heavens above!” he exclaimed. “It’s nearly nine. I won’t be in Beaucaire before midnight. Goodbye, my children. If any more Abbé Busonis happen to drop by, think of me.”

‘ “In a week, you will no longer be in Beaucaire,” said Caderousse. “The fair ends next week.”

‘ “No, but that doesn’t matter. Write to me in Paris: Monsieur Joannès, at the Palais-Royal, number forty-five, Galerie de Pierre. I’ll come down here specially if it’s worth my while.”

‘A peal of thunder sounded, with a bolt of lightning so bright that it almost dimmed the light from the lamp.

‘ “Oh, ho,” said Caderousse. “Are you going out in this weather?”

‘ “I’m not afraid of thunder,” said the jeweller.

‘ “Or thieves?” asked La Carconte. “The road is never quite safe when the fair’s in town.”

‘ “Huh! As far as thieves are concerned, here’s my answer to them.” And he took a pair of little pistols, fully loaded, out of his pocket. “These are dogs that bark and bite at the same time, and I’m keeping them for the first two men who want to get their hands on your diamond, Caderousse.”

‘Caderousse and his wife exchanged a dark look: they both appeared to have the same frightful idea.

‘ “Very well,
bon voyage
!” said Caderousse.

‘ “Thank you,” the jeweller replied.

‘He took his cane, which he had set down, leaning against an old sideboard, and went out. As soon as he opened the door, there was such a gust of wind that it almost put out the lamp.

‘ “Ho, ho!” he said. “Lovely weather… And I have two leagues to travel in it.”

‘ “Don’t go,” said Caderousse. “You can sleep here.”

‘ “Yes, stay,” said La Carconte in a quivering voice. “We’ll take good care of you.”

‘ “No, I can’t. I must sleep in Beaucaire. Farewell.”

‘Caderousse walked slowly over to the doorway.

‘ “You can’t see an inch ahead,” said the jeweller, already outside. “Should I go to the right or the left?”

‘ “Right,” said Caderousse. “You can’t miss your way. The road is lined with trees on each side.”

‘ “Very well, I’m there,” said the voice, hardly audible in the distance.

‘ “Shut the door,” said La Carconte. “I don’t like leaving the door open when there’s thunder.”

‘ “Or when there’s money in the house, you mean,” said Caderousse, turning the key twice in the lock.

‘He came back, went over to the cupboard, took out the bag and the portfolio, and both of them started to count over their gold and their banknotes for the third time. I have never seen an expression like the one on those two faces, with the dim light of the lamp
shining on their cupidity. The woman, above all, was frightful to see. Her limbs trembled feverishly, twice as much as usual, her pale face was livid and her hollow eyes blazed.

‘ “And why did you offer to let him sleep here?” she muttered.

‘Caderousse started. “Well, of course, so that he would not need to go back to Beaucaire…”

‘ “Ah,” the woman said, with an indescribable expression. “I thought it might be for some other reason.”

‘ “Wife, wife!” Caderousse cried. “Where do you get such ideas? And, if you have them, why not keep them to yourself?”

‘ “No matter,” La Carconte said, after a moment’s silence. “You are not a man.”

‘ “What do you mean?” asked Caderousse.

‘ “If you had been a man, he would not have left here.”

‘ “Wife!”

‘ “Or else he would never reach Beaucaire.”

‘ “Wife!”

‘ “He must follow the road, which has a bend in it, but there is a short-cut along the canal.”

‘ “Woman, you are offending the Good Lord. Listen…”

‘Indeed, as he spoke there was a fearful crash of thunder, while at the same time a bluish shaft of lightning lit up the whole room, and the thunder, fading in the distance, seemed unwilling to go away from the accursed house.

‘ “Jesu!” said La Carconte, making the sign of the cross.

‘At the same moment, in the awed silence that habitually follows a loud burst of thunder, they heard a knocking on the door. Both Caderousse and his wife shuddered and looked at one another.

‘ “Who goes there?” Caderousse shouted, getting up and pushing the gold and the notes, which had been spread out over the table, into a single pile and covering it with both hands.

‘ “It’s me!” said a voice.

‘ “Who are you?”

‘ “Who do you think? Joannès, the jeweller.”

‘ “What were you saying?” La Carconte said, with an awful smile. “That the Good Lord was offended? Well, look: the Good Lord has sent him back to us.”

‘Caderousse slipped back, white and breathless, on his chair. But La Carconte, on the other hand, got up and walked with a
determined step over to the door, then opened it. “Come in, dear Monsieur Joannès,” she said.

‘ “I’ll be darned,” the jeweller said, dripping with rain. “It seems that the devil does not want me to go back to Beaucaire this evening. The best follies are the shortest-lived, my dear Caderousse. You offered me your hospitality; I accept and I have come back to stay the night with you.”

‘Caderousse muttered a few words, wiping the sweat from his brow. La Carconte double-locked the door behind the jeweller.’

‘As he came in, the jeweller looked around enquiringly, but nothing seemed to arouse his suspicions, if he had none so far, or to confirm any that he might have had. Caderousse was still holding his banknotes and his gold in both hands. La Carconte smiled at her guest as pleasantly as she could.

‘ “Ah! I see,” said the jeweller. “It appears you were afraid of having been underpaid, so you were counting your wealth after I left.”

‘ “Not at all,” said Caderousse. “But the events that brought us this fortune were so unexpected that we still cannot believe in it, and when we do not have the actual proof under our eyes we imagine that we may still be dreaming.”

‘The jeweller smiled.

‘ “Do you have any travellers in your inn?” he asked.

‘ “No,” Caderousse replied. “We do not let rooms. We are too close to the town and no one stops here.”

‘ “In that case, will I be a terrible nuisance to you?”

‘ “You! A nuisance! My dear sir,” La Carconte said amiably, “not at all, I assure you.”

‘ “But where will you put me?”

‘ “In the upstairs room.”

‘ “That is your own room, isn’t it?”

‘ “Don’t worry! We have a second bed in the room next door to this one.”

‘Caderousse looked at his wife in astonishment. The jeweller hummed a little tune while warming his back at a log which La Carconte had just lit in the fireplace so that he could dry his clothes. Meanwhile she put the meagre remnants of a dinner on one corner of the table where she had laid a cloth, adding two or three fresh eggs.

‘Caderousse had once more shut the notes up in his wallet, the gold in his bag and both of these in his cupboard. He was walking back and forth, grim and pensive, casting an occasional glance at the jeweller who stood steaming in front of the hearth and, when he started to dry on one side, turned to the other.

‘ “There you are,” said La Carconte, putting a bottle of wine down on the table. “Supper is ready, when you want it.”

‘ “What about you?” asked Joannès.

‘ “I’m not having anything,” Caderousse said.

‘ “We had a very late dinner,” La Carconte hastened to add.

‘ “Will I have to eat alone, then?”

‘ “We’ll serve you,” said La Carconte, with an eagerness that would have been exceptional in her, even with one of her paying guests. From time to time Caderousse gave her a rapid glance.

‘The storm continued.

‘ “Do you hear that?” La Carconte said. “My word! You did well to come back.”

‘ “Despite which,” said the jeweller, “if the wind does drop while I am eating my supper, I shall set out again.”

‘ “It’s the mistral,” Caderousse said, shaking his head. “We’ve got it now until tomorrow.” And he sighed.

‘ “Well I never,” said the jeweller, taking his place at the table. “Bad luck on anyone who’s outside.”

‘ “Yes,” said La Carconte. “They will have a rough night.”

‘The jeweller began to eat and La Carconte continued to fuss over him like an attentive hostess. Usually so crabby and ill-tempered, she had become a model of consideration and good manners. If the jeweller had known her earlier he would surely have been astonished by the change, which could not help arousing his suspicions. As for Caderousse, he said nothing but went on walking up and down and seemed unwilling even to look at his guest.