Dumas_Edmond_Dantes.txt topic ['13', '324', '378', '393']
CHAPTER I.
STORM AND SHIPWRECK.
The Count of Monte- Cristo, with the beautiful Haydee
dinging lovingly about his neck, her head pillowed upon his
shoulder, stood on the deck of his superb yacht, the Alcyon,
gazing at the fast- vanishing isle where he had left Maximilian
Morrel and Valentine de Villefort,
It was just daybreak, but by the faint glimmering light
he could plainly distinguish the figures of s. man and a woman
upon the distant beach. They were walking arm in arm.
Presently another figure, a man's, approached them and
seemed to deliver something.
"Look," said the Count to Haydie, "Jacopo has given
Maximilian my letter; he reads it to Valentine, and now they
know all. Jacopo points toward '...e yacht; they see us and are
waving their handkerchiefs in token of adieu."
Haydee raised her head and glanced in the direction of
the Isle of Monte-Cristo.
" I see them, my Lord," she replied, in a joyous tone;
" they are happy."
" Yes," said the Count, " they are happy, but they deserve
their happiness, and all is well."
" They owe their happiness to you, my lord," resumed
Haydee, meekly.
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4 EDUOSD DASTES.
" They owe it to God." answered Monte-Cristo, solemnly;
" I was but His humble instramest, and He has allowed
mr in this to make some slight atonement for the wrong
I committed in taking vengeance into my own mortal hands."
Haydee was silent She knew the sad history of Edmond
Dantes. and was aware of how remorselessly the Count of
Monte-Cristo had avenged the wirings of the humble sailor
of Marseilles. This sho had learned from her lord's own
lips within the past few days. The strict seclusion in which
she had lived in Paris had necessarily excluded her from all
personal knowledge of the Count's subtle war upon his
enemies; true, she had emerged from her retirement to testify
against Morcerf at his trial before the House of Peers, but
at that t'.iie she was ignorant of the fact that by causing the
foe of her family to be convicted of felony, treason and
outrage she had simply promoted Monte-Cristo's vengeance
oil Fernand, the Catalan. But, though silent, the beautiful
Greek girl, with her thoroughly oriental ideas, could not
realize that the man who stood beside her, the being she al-
most worshipped, had been guilty oE the least wrong in
avenging himself. Besides, she would never have admitted,
even in the most secret recesses of her own heart, that Monte-
Cristo, who to her mind symbolized all that was good, pure
and heroic in human nature, could have been wrong in any-
thing he did.
Meanwhile the Count also had been silent, and a shade of
the deepest sadness had settled upon his pallid but intel-
lectual visage. He gazed at the Isle of Monte-Cristo until
it became a mere dot in the distance; then, putting his arm
tendeHy about his lovely companion's waist, he drew her
gently toward the cabin.
As they vanished down the companion-way, Bertuccio and
the captain of the Alcyon, followed by All, the Nubian, ad-
vanced to the prow of the yacht.
"Captain," said Bertuccio, "can you tell me whither we
are bound? I feel an irresistible desire to know."
" Yes," answered the captain, " I can tell you. The Count
ordered me to make with all possible speed for the Island
of Crete."
Bertuccio gave a sigh of relief.
" I feared we were bound for Italy," he said. " Bnt," he
STORM AND SHIPWRECK. 6
added, after an instant's thought, "why should we go to
Rome ? Luigi Vampa is amply able to care for all the
Count's interests there, If, Indeed, any remain now that the
Baron Danglars has been attended to."
The captain, who was an old Italian smuggler, placed his
finger warningly upon his lips and glanced warily around
when Luigi Vampa's name was mentioned, but said nothing,
Bertuecio took the hint and the conversation was dropped.
Pressing onward under full sail, the magnificent yacht shot
over the blue waters of the Mediterranean with the speed of
an eagle on the wing. It sped past Corsica and Sardinia,
and soon the arid, uninviting shores of Tunis were visible;
then it passed between Sicily and Malta, steering directly
toward the Island of Crete. '
Up to this time the weather had been of the most delight-
ful description. Not a cloud had obscured the sky, and
during the entire voyage the unruffled surface of the Medi-
terranean had resembled that of some peaceful lake. It
was now the tenth of October, and just cool enough to be
pleasant; the spice-laden breezes from the coast of Africa
reached the yacht tempered by the moist atmosphere of the
sea, furnishing an additional element of enjoyment.
The Count of Monte-Cristo and Haydee, who seemed in-
separable, came on deck every morning at dawn, and each
evening walked back and forth, admiring the gorgeous sunset
and watching the shades of night as they gradually settled
down upon the wide expanse of the waters.
It required no unusual penetration to see that they were
lovers and that their delight in each other's society was un-
alloyed. Haydee clung to the Count, who, with his arm
wound about her slender waist, looked down into the liquid
depths of her eyes with a smile of perfect content, while
his free hand ever and anon toyed with her night-black
One evening as they were walking thus it was the evening
of the fifteenth of October, and Crete was distant but two
days' sail Monte-Cristo tenderly took Haydee's hand in his
and said to her in a tone of ineffable softness:
" Haydee, do you remember what you said to me on
the Isle of Monte-Cristo just before we parted from Valentine
and Maximilian?"
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6 EDMOND D ANTES.
"Oh! yes, my lord," was the low reply, "I said I loved
you as one loves a father, brother, husband I loved you as
" And do you now regret those words? "
" Regret them I Oh I my lord, how could I do that? "
" I asked you," said the Count slowly, " because we are
nearing our destination. In two days we shall land upon the
shore of Crete, and, once there, it is my intention to make
you my wife, provided your feelings toward me are still
unchanged. Marriage, my child, is the most important step
in life, and I do not wish you to take that step without fully
understanding the promptings ot your own dear heart. Only
misery can follow the union of two souls not in perfect accord,
not entirely devoted the one to the other. I am much older
than you Haydee, and my sufferings have aged me still more
than years. I am a sad and weary man. You, on the con-
trary, stand just upon the threshold of existence; the world
and its pleasures are all before you. Think, my child, think
deeply before you pronounce the irrevocable vow."
Haydee threw herself passionately upon Monte-Cristo's
" My lord," she cried, in accents broken by extreme agita-
tion and emotion, "am I not your slave?"
' No, Haydee," answered the Count, his bosom heaving
and his eyes lighting up with a strange flash, " you are
free, your fate rests in your own hands."
"Then," said the young girl, ardently, "I will decide it
this very'instant. I accept my freedom that I may voluntarily
offer myself to you, my love, my husband. You have suffered.
Granted. So have I. Your sufferings have aged you; mine
have transformed a child into a woman a woman who knows
the promptings of her heart, who knows that it beats for you,
and you alone in all the world. My lord, I resign myself to
you. Do you accept the gift?"
As Haydee concluded, her beautiful eyes were suffused with
tears and her whole frame quivered with intense excitement.
Monte-Cristo bent down and kissed her upon tiic fore-
head.
" Haydfie, my own Haydee," he said, with a slight tremor
in his manly voice, " I accept the gift. Be my wife, the wife
STORM AND SHIPWRECK. 1
of Monte-Cristo, and no effort of mine shall be wanting to
assure your happiness."
At that moment there was a sinister flash in the heavens,
that were as yet without a cloud. The livid light shot
downward to the water and seemingly plunged to the depths
of the Mediterranean.
The Count gave a start and drew his beloved Hayde closer
to him; the frightened girl trembled from head to foot and
clung to him for protection.
"Oh! my lord, my lord," she murmured, "does Heaven
disapprove of our plighted troth?"
" Calm yourself, Haydee," answered Monte-Cristo, " The
lightning is God's seal, and He has set it upon our betrothal."
The flash was now repeated and was succeeded by several
others of increased intensity, but as yet no thunder rolled and
there was not the slightest indication of an approaching
Monte-Cristo took Haydee's hand and led her to the side
of the yacht. Not a single wave wrinkled the surface of
the sea for miles and miles; the water seemed asleep, while
down upon it the moon poured a flood of silvery radiance.
The stars, too, were beaming brightly. Still, however, the
intense lightning shot athwart the placid sky. It had become
almost incessant. Monte-Cristo could not account for the
bewildering phenomenon. He summoned the captain of the
Alcyon and said to him:
" Giacomo, you have sailed the Mediterranean all your
life, have you not?"
" All my life. Excellency," replied he, touching his cap.
" Have you ever before seen lightning such as this on a
calm night?"
" Never, Excellency."
" It certainly cannot be heat-lightning."
"I think not. Excellency. Heat-lightning has a quicker
flash and is much less intense."
" What do you suppose it portends? "
" I can form no idea. Excellency."
"OhI my lord," said Haydee, "a terrible storm is coming,
I am sure; I feel a premonition of approaching danger. I
pray you, guard against it,"
" Nonsense, my child," returned Monte-Cristo, with a. \&u%W
8 EDMOND DANTES.
that, in spite of all his efforts at selt-control, betrayed nerv-
ous agitation and an undefinable dread. " The sky is clear, the
moon is shining brilliantly and the sea is altogether tran-
quil; if a storm were comitig it would not be so. Banish
your fears and reassure yourscJf; the lightning is but a freak
of nature."
The captain, too, was disturbed, though he could give him-
self no satisfactory reason for his uneasiness.
All, with the characteristic superstition of the Nubian race,
had prostrated himself upon the deck, and was making signs
the Moslems of his country use to drive away malignant
The night, however, passed without accident, though the
singular lightning continued for several hours.
Next morning the sun rose, encircled by a ruddy band,
fringed on the outer rim with a faint yellow, while its
beams had a sullen glare instead of their normal brilliancy.
The lightning of the previous night was absent, but soon
another and not less disquieting phenomenon manifested it-
self; as far as the eye could reach the sea seemed boiling, and,
at intervals, a puff, as if of vapor, would filter through the
waves, rising and disappearing in the heavens. Meanwhile
the wind had fallen, and amid an almost dead calm the sails
of the Alcyon hung listlessly, with only an occasional flap-
ping. The yacht moved forward, indeed, but so slowly
that it scarcely appeared to move at all.
Monte-Cristo and Haydee came on deck at dawn, but the
young girl displayed such terror at the unwonted aspect
of the sun and the sea that the Count speedily persuaded
her to return with him to the cabin. There she cowered upon
a divan, hiding her face in her hands and moaning piteously.
Her fiance, distressed at her condition, endeavored to soothe
and comfort her, but utterly without avail; her fears could
neither be banished nor allayed. At length he threw himself
on a rug at her feet, and, disengaging her hands from her face,
drew them about his neck; Haydee clasped him frantically
and clung to him as if she deemed that embrace a final one.
As they were sitting thus, the Alcyon received a sudden
and violent shock that shook the noble yacht from stem to
stern. Instantly there was a sound of hurrying feet on deck,
STORM AND SHIPWRECK. 9
and the captain could be heard shouting hoarsely to the
Monte-Cristo leaped and caught Haydec in his arms. At
that moment Ali darted down the companion-way and stood
trembling before his master.
" What was that shock? " demanded the Count, hurriedly.
The agitated Nubian made a sign signifying he did not
know, but that all was as yet safe.
" Remain with your mistress, Ali," said Monte-Cristo. " I
am going to see what is the matter."
' Oh! no, no," cried Haydee, imploringly, as the Count
placed her again on the divan and was moving away. " Oh 1 no,
no; do not leave me, my lord, or I shall die!"
Ashy pale, Haydee arose from the divan, and cast herself
on her knees at Morte-Cristo's feet.
" Swear to me, at least, that you will not needlessly expose
yourself to danger," she uttered, in a pleading tone.
"I swear it," answered the Count, "Ali will faithfully
guard you while I am gone," he added, " and ere you can
realize my absence, I shall be again at your side."
With these words he tore himself away and hastened to
the deck.
There a scene met his eye as unexpected as it was appalling.
The entire surface of the Mediterranean was aglow with
phosphorescence, and the sun was veiled completely by a
heavy cloud that seemed to cover the whole expanse of the
sky. This cloud was not black, but of a bloody hue, and
the atmosphere was so densely charged with sulphur that it
was almost impossible to breathe. The sea was boiling more
furiously than ever, and the puffs of vapor that had before only
occasionally filtered through the waves now leaped up" in-
cessantly, each puff attended with a slight explosion; the
vapor was grayish when it first arose from the water, but as
it ascended it became red, mingling at length with the
bloodly cloud that each moment acquired greater density.
The wind blew fitfully, sometimes amounting to a gale and
then utterly vanishing without the slightest warning. Soon
the bloody cloud seemed to settle of its own weight upon
the sea, growing so thick that the eye could not penetrate
it, and a few feet from the yacht all was inky darkness.
Monte-Cristo hurried to the captain, who was etviea\OT\tv%
10 EDMOND DANTES.
to quiet the superstitious fears of the sailors. Drawing him
aside, he said, in a low tone:
" Giacomo, we are in frightful danger. This elemental dis-
turbance is volcanic, and how it will end cannot be foretold.
No doubt an earthquake is devastating the nearest land,
or will do so before many hours have elapsed. At any
moment rocks or islands may rise from the sea, and obstruct
our passage. All we can do is to hold ourselves in readiness
for whatever calamity may happen, and make tor Crete as
rapidly as possible, with the hope of eventually getting beyond
the volcanic zone. Do rot enlighten the crew as to the
cause of the disturbance; did they know, or even suspect it,
they could not be controlled, but would become either stupefied
or reckless. Try to convince them that we are simply in the
midst of a severe electrical storm that will speedily exhaust
its fury and subside. Now, to work, and remember that
everything depends upon your courage and resolution."
Giacomo rejoined the sailors, who were huddled together
at the stern of the yacht like so many frightened sheep. He
spoke to them, doing his utmost to reassure them, and
ultimately succeeded so well that they resumed their neg-
lected duties with some show of alacrity and even cheerfulness.
Meanwhile, Monte-Cristo, with folded arms and an out-
ward show of calmness, was pacing the deck as if nothing
unusual were in progress, and his demeanor was not without
its effect on the sailors, who looked upon him with a species
of awe and admiration. At times he went below to cheer
the drooping spirits of his beloved Haydee, but speedily
returned that the influence of his presence might not be lost
Thus the day passed. A night of painful suspense suc-
ceeded it, during which not a soul on board the Alcyon
thought of sleeping. Nothing, however, occurred, save that
the intense lightning of the previous night was renewed.
Toward eleven o'clock the breeze freshened to such an extent
that the yacht sped along on her course with great fleetness.
In the mornng the sun arose amid a purple haze and
the Mediterranean presented a more tumultuous and threat-
ening aspect than it had the preceding day. The breeze
was still blowing stiffly, and the lightning continued. Gia-
como informed Monte-Cristo that unless a calm should sud-
denly come on they would certainty arrive at Crete by noon.
STORM AND SHIPWRECK. 11
The sailors, he added, were in good spirits, and might be
relied upon, though they were much fatigued by reason of
their unceasing labor.
At ten o'clock the man at the wheel hurriedly summoned
the captain to his side, and, with a look of terror and be-
wilderment, directed his attention to the compass, the needle
of which no longer pointed to the north, but was dancing
a mad dance, not remaining stationary for a single instant.
To complicate the situation still further, the sun was sud-
denly obscured, absolute darkness invading both sea and sky.
Only when the vivid lightning tore the dense clouds apart
were those on board the Alcyon enabled to catch a glimpse
of what was going on about them, and that glimpse was
but momentary. Thunder peals were now added to the terrors
of the time, while the yacht tossed and plunged on angry,
threatening billows. Showers of sparks and glowing cinders,
as if from some mighty conflagration, poured down into
the water, striking its surface with an ominous hiss; they
resembled meteors, and their brilliancy was augmented by
the surrounding gloom. Rain also began to descend, not
in drops, but in broad sheets and with the roar of a cata-
ract; in a moment everybody on the Alcyon's deck was
drenched to the skin.
Haydee had not ventured from the cabin since the first
day of the elemental commotion; in obedience to his mas-
ter's commands, Ali constantly watched over her whenever
the Count was facing the strange storm with Giacomo and
the sailors.
As the captain approached the man at the wheel, Monte-
Cristo fixed his eyes upon the old Italian's countenance and
saw it assume a deathly pallor as he noticed that the needle
of the compass could no longer be depended on.
In an instant the Count was beside him and realized the
extent of the new evil that had befallen them.
" We can steer but by guess now," said Giacomo, in a low,
hoarse whisper. " God grant that we may be able to reach
our destination."
As he spoke, a loud crash was heard, and the rudder, torn
from its fastenings by the violence of the tempest, swept
by them, vanishing amid the darkness. The man at the wheel
gazed after it, uttering a cry of despair.
IS EDMOND DANTES.
"We are completely at the mercy of the wind and waves!"
said Monte-Cristo, in an undertone. " Can nothing be done?"
he added, hurriedly.
" Nothing, Excellency," returned the captain. " A tem-
porary rudder might be rigged were the sea calmer, but,
boiling and seething as it is, such a thing is utterly impos-
sible."
A panic had seized upon the sailors as they witnessed the
catastrophe that rendered the Alcyon helpless, but'this im-
mediately gave place to stupor, and the men stood silent
and overwhelmed.
Bertuccio, from the time the dread storm had broken
forth, had been gloomy and uncommunicative; he had held
persistently aloof both from Monle-Cristo and the crew. In
the general turmoil and confusion his bearing and behavior
had passed unnoticed even by the viligant eye of the Count.
The steward now approached his master, and taking him
aside, whispered in his ear;
" Heaven's vengeance is pursuing the Alcyon and all on
board because of my crimes! I feel it I know it!"
The steward's face was as white as a sheet, but his eye
betokened fixed resolution.
" Not another word of this," cried Monte-Cristo, sternly.
" Should the superstitious sailors hear you, they would de-
mand with one voice that you be cast into the boiling sea."
" And they would be right," rejoined Bertuccio, doggedly.
" If I remain where I am, the Alcyon's doom is sealed. On
the other hand, the moment you are rid of me the storm
will cease as if by magic, and you will be saved."
" Be silent! " commanded Monte-Cristo. " You are a
Corsican show a Corsican's courage!"
"I will I" was the determined reply, and the steward
walked with a firm tread to the side of the yacht.
" What do you mean? " said the Count, hurrying after
htm and placing his hand on his shoulder.
"You shall see!" answered Bertuccio.
Shaking olf Moiite-Cristo's grasp, he leaped upon the bul-
warks and suddenly sprang far out amid the seething waves.
The Count uttered a cry of horror that was echoed by the
captain. As tor the crew, so utterly stupefied were they
that they did not seem to comprehend the suicidal act. For
STORM AND SHIPWRECK. 13
an instant Monte-CHsto and Giacomo saw the steward whirl-
ing about amid the tumultuous flood; then he was swept
away, and vanished in the inpenetrable darkness beyond.
The force of the wind had meanwhile augmented until
a perfect hurricane was raging about the Alcyon, the noise
was deafening, and the sails swelled to such an extent that
they threatened to snap asunder. Suddenly they gave way,
and the tattered shreds flew in all directions, like white-
winged sea-fowl. Simultaneously the mast toppled and went
by the board. The yacht, now a helpless wreck, pitched
and tossed, but still shot onward, impelled by the wild fury
of the gale. Gigantic waves at intervals swept the deck,
each torrent as it retreated carrying with it all it could
tear away, and making huge gaps in the bulwarks, to
which the sailors were dinging with all the energy of des-
peration. Monte-Cristo had grasped the stump of the mast,
and the captain clung with all his strength to the remains
of the wheel. The lightning had become terrific, and the
almost continuous roar of the thunder was sufBcienc to drown
the mad din of the waters.
All at once the jagged outlines of a gigantic rock loomed
up, directly in the course of the fated vessel ; in another in-
stant the Alcyon struck and remained fast, while a vivid flash
of lightning revealed what appeared to be an island, about a
quarter of a mile away. But though the wreck of the yacht
was motionless, the furious sea conlinucd to break over the
deck, and it seemed only a question of a few moments when the
battered and torn hull of the Alcyon would go to pieces. The
boat the vessel carried had long since been wrenched from its
fastenings and swept into the whirlpool.
Monte-Cristo, quitting the stump of the mast, darted down
the companion-way into the cabin, and quickly returned to the
deck bearing in his arms the swooning form of his adored
Haydee. Ali followed him. The Nubian seemed to have en-
tirely recovered from his fear, and manifested both alertness
and decision.
Shifting his lifeless burden to his left arm and grasping her
firmly, Monte-Cristo advanced to the side of the Alcyon. Paus-
ing there for an instant, he said, addressing Giacomo and the
"The yacht cannot hold together much longer; if we remata
U EDMOXD DANTES.
where we are we shall inevitably be ground to powder on the
rock with onr vessel. There is an island some distance to
the ri^t of us, and, sustained by Providence, we may succeed
in reachiiq; it by swimming. For my part, I shall try the
venture and endeavor to save this lady. You, men, arc un-
iranimeled and stand a better chance of success than I do. I
advise you all to follow my example; to cling further to the
wreck is death [ "
With these words the Count made his way to a gap in the
bulwarks and, grasping Haydee tightly, leaped with her into the
midst of the angry sea. Ali followed his' master, and soon
they were seen far in the distance, stru^ling and battling
with the waves.
CHAPTER IL
THE ISLAND.
It was the month of December, but on the little Island of
Salmis in the Grecian Archipelago the temperature was as
mild and genial as that of June. The grass was rank and thick,
while the blooming almond trees hlled the atmosphere with
fragrance. On a narrow strip of sandy beach three or four
fishermen were preparing their nets and boats for a fishing
expedition to the waters beyond. They chatted as they toiled.
The eldest of ihem, a man about sixty, with silvered locks and
a long gray beard, said :
" You may talk of storms as much as you please, but I main-
tain that the most severe tempest ever experienced in this
neighborhood was the one I witnessed ten years ago last October,
when we had the earthquake and the strange man, who now
owns this island, was washed ashore."
"The Count of Monte-Crislo you mean?" remarked one of
the party,
' Yes, the Count of Monle-Cristo, who has done so much for us
all and whose wife is nothing less than an angel of goodness
and charity."
"You rescued him, did you not, Alexis?"
"/ found him lying upon the beach, with the lady who is
Cooxic
THE ISLAND. 15
now his wife tightly clasped in his arms, so tightly that I had
no end of trouble to separate them. Both were unconscious at
the time, and no wonder, for the sea was furious and they
must have been dashed about at a fearful rate. It was a miracle
they escaped with their lives. Near them lay that dark-
skinned African, their servant, who styles himself Ali, as well
as the corpses of several sailors. The African, however, re-
vived just as I approached him. He's a man of iron, I tell
you, for he immediately leaped to his feet and helped me to
restore his master and mistress. When they came to, 1 took
the whole party to my hut and cared for them. The next day
I rowed the Count and the African out to the wreck of their
vessel on that rock you see away over there, and they brought
back with them a fabulous amount of money and jewels that they
found in the strangest closets I ever saw in the cabin. Then
the Count bought this island and has lived here ever since. He
took the lady to Athens and was married to her there, and
on his return he had the palace they now occupy built in the
midst of the palm grove."
By this time the fishermen had completed their preparations
and, leaping into their boats, they started on their expedition.
The palace in the palm grove to which old Alexis had alluded
was, indeed, a magnificent dwelling, suitable tn every respect
for the residence of an oriental monarch. It was built tn the
Turkish fashion and its exterior was singularly beautiful and
imposing. Huge palm trees surrounded it; they were planted
in regular rows upon a vast lawn that was adorned with costly
statues and fountains, while at intervals were scattered great
flower beds filled with choice exotics and blooming plants of
endless variety, A wide graveled walk and carriage-road led
to the palace, the main entrance to which was flanked on
either side by columns of dark-veined marble. The edifice
itself was of green stone, and sparkled in the sunlight like a
colossal emerald. It was surrounded by three zinc-covered
domes, about each of which towered a gilded c
Within ail was elegance and luxury. There \
salons, with marble floors, and walls covered with Smyrna hang-
ings of the most beautiful description that of themselves must
have cost a fortune. These salons were furnished with rich
divans, tables of malachite, cabinets of ebony, and oriental rugs
of the most artistic and complicated workmanship. There were
16 EDMOND DANTES.
dazzling reception-rooms filled with exquisite statues and
superb paintings, the works o the greatest sculptors and artists
of the east and west, of the past and the present. Figures by
Thorwaldsen, Powers and other modem celebrities of the block
and chisel stood beside antique masterpieces framed by the
genius of Phidias and his brother sculptors of old Greece
and Rome, masterpieces that had been torn from the
ruins of antiquity by the hand of the untiring and enter-
prising excavator. Among the paintings were hne specimens
of the skill of Albert Durer, Murillo, Rubens, Van Dyck,
Rembrandt, Sir Joshua Reynolds and other votaries of the
brush whose names are immortal. These paintings did not
hang on the walls, for they were covered with rich tapestry
from the looms of Benares and the Gobelins, but rested on
delicately fashioned easlls, themselves entitled to a high rank
as works of art In me salons were statues by Michael Angelo,
Pierre Pi^et and Pompeo Marches!, and paintings by Claude
Lorraine, Titian, Sir Thomas Lawrence, Correggio and Salva-
The vast library was encircled by lofly bookcases of walnut
and ebony, filled with rare and costly volumes from the cu-
riously illuminated missals of monkish days to the latest scien-
tific works, together with a liberal sprinkling of poetry and
fiction; upon tables, stands and mantels were superb orna-
ments in brass repousse work and grand old faience, including
some wonderful specimens of ancient Chinese crackle ware, the
peculiar secret of the manufacture of which had been lost in
the flight of ages.
At an exquisite desk of walnut, carved with grotesque images,
sat the Count of Monte-Cristo ; be was busily engaged in writing,
and beside him lay a huge pile of manuscript that was ever and
anon augmented by an additional sheet, hastily scrawled in
strange, bewildering Semetic characters.
The Count showed but small trace of the passage of years;
he did not look much older than when he left the Isle of
Monte-Cristo with Hay dee on that voyage which was des-
tined to result so disastrously for the Aleyon and her ill-
fated crew. To be sure, his hair was slightly flecked with
gray, but his visage still retained its full outline, and not a
wrinkle marred its masculine beauty. He was clad in an ex-
ceedingly picturesque costume, half Greek and half Turkish,
THE ISLAND. 17
^vhile upon his head was a red fez from the center of which
liiing down a gilt tassel.
As he wrote his eyes sparkled and he seemed filled with en-
thusiasm. At length he threw aside his pen, and rising began to
pace the vast apartment with long strides. "Alast" he mut-
tered, " perhaps after all I am only a vain dreamer, as hosts
of others have been before me. But no, my scheme is feasible
and cannot fail ; it is based on sound principles and a thorough
knowledge of mankind; besides, the immense wealth that an
all-wise God has placed at my disposal will aid me and form
a mighty factor in the cause. In the past 1 used that wealth
solely for my own selfish ends, but now all is different; I have
no thought of self the philanthropist has replaced the egotist;
1 have aided the poor, relieved the stricken and brought joy to
many a sorrowing home, but hitherto I have acted only in
isolated cases; now I meditate a grand, a sublime strcAe -to
give freedom to man throi^hout the entire length and breadth
of the Continent of Europe. If I succeed, and succeed I must,
every down-trodden human being from the coast of France
to the Ural Mountains, from the sunny Mediterranean to the
frozen Arctic Ocean, will reap the benefit of my efforts and
shake off the yoke of tyranny. Where shall I begin? Ahl with
France, my own country, the land that gave me birth. I shall
thus return good for evil, and Edmond Dantes, the prisoner of
the Chateau d'lf, will free the masses from their galling chains.
My most potent instrument will be the public press; by means
of journals I will found, or buy, the minds of all Europeans
shall become familiarized with the theory of universal liberty
and ripened for sweeping revolutions and the establishment
of republics ; I will also call fiction to my aid ; struggling
novelists and feuilletonists shall 'receive liberal subsidies from
my hand on condition that they disseminate my ideas, theories
and plans in their romances and f euilletons ; thus will I reach
thousands upon thousands who hold themselves aloof from
politics, and almost insensibly they will be transformed into
zealous, active partisans of the order of things that is to be;
poets, too, shall sing the praises of freedom louder and more
enthusiastically than ever before ; in fine, no instrument, no
means, however humble and apparently insignificant, shall be
neglected when the proper moment arrives, but until it does
arrive I must wail, wait patiently, wait though while waiting an
18 EDMOND DANTES.
internal lire consume me, and my veins throb with anxiety
and expectation to the point of bursting."
He sank into a chair, and, bnrying his face in his hands,
was lost in profound thought.
Meanwhile, a lovely woman, leading a beautiful girl of eight
years and a handsome boy of nine, had noiselessly entered the
apartment It was Haydee, the wife of Monte-Cristo, Haydee
grown mature and more beautiful than ever. Her night-black
tresses were gathered in two wide braids at the back of her
shapely head, so long that they reached below her waist. Her
eyes were as bright as stars, and her slender hands, tipped
with their pink nails, as white as the lily; her tiny feet, en-
cased in Cinderella slippers of rose-hued satin, peeped out from
beneath ample Turkish trousers, which were semi-transparent
and disclosed the outlines of her beautifully turned limbs;
she wore a close-fitting gilet of pearly silk, adorned with gilt
fringe and cut low, displaying ber snowy neck and magnificent
shoulders; her arms were encompassed but not hidden by flowing
sleeves of filmy gauze as fine as the tissue of a spider's web;
about her neck flashed a collar of brilliant diamonds of enor-
mous value, and on her tapering fingers were rings of emerald,
ruby and sapphire ; on her head was a red fez, precisely similar
to her husband's; her countenance, a perfect revelation of an-
gelic beauty, was wreathed in sunny smiles that betokened
thorough happiness and lontentment
The little girl, Zuleika, the daughter of Monte-Cristo, was
her exact image, a reproduction of her lovely mother in min-
iature, a promise of rare delight for the future. The child's
costume was also modeled after Haydee's, but with modifica-
tions suited to her tender years. Zuleika was of a gentle, loving
disposition, but a vein of romance and poetry had already devel-
oped itself in her nothwithstanding her extreme youth. She sighed
for the unknown delights of the sea, and the waii of the surf
sounded to her like the most delicious of mysterious harmonies.
Her infant imagination peopled the watery realm with spirits
of good and evil always in contention, and the great ships, with
their huge white sails, that she saw in the distance from the
sandy beach of the Island of Salmis, were in her eyes the
mighty birds of Arabian story.
The boy, Esperance, the son of Monte-Cristo, resembled his
father both in disposition and appearance; his youthful soul
THE ISLAND. 19
was full of noble aspirations, while his daring and bravery
filteii even the hardy fishermen of the coast with wonder and
amazement. He was a very manly and handsome child ; quick,
enthusiastic and energetic; his father's hope and his mother's
idol; though Haydee saw, with extreme uneasiness, that
the lit tie lad was wise beyond his years, and was already
devoted to Monte-Crislo's somewhat visionary schemes, which
he appeared to grasp in all their complicated details. His attire
was that of a Greek fisher boy; his trousers, rolled up above
his knees, displayed his naked legs and bare feet; in one hand
he held a rough sea cap that he had removed from his head
at the door of the library. Esperance loved, above all other
things, to be with the fishermen on the beach, and his joy knew
no bounds when he was permitted to accompany them on their
fishing expeditions to the waters beyond.
Haydie remained silently gazing at Monte-Cristo for a mo-
ment; then, advancing into the middle of the room, she stood
beside him with the children. Zuleika, dropping her mother's
hand, sprang lightly upon her father's knees, and, clasping him
about the neck with her chubby arms, kissed him rapturously.
The Count started from his deep reverie and returned his
daughter's kiss ; then, looking up, he perceived Haydee and
" Ah ! my loved ones," said he, " so you are all here ! "
" Yes, papa," returned Zuleika, in a clear, crystal voice, that
sounded like the tinkle of a fairy bell, " we are all here mamma,
Esperance and 'Leika ! "
Monte-Cristo smiled faintly, and patted the little girl ten-
derly on the cheek.
" Haydee," said he, " fortune favors us in our children ; they
are, indeed, a blessing to us."
" A veritable blessing, my lord," answered the lovely Haydee,
"but still I cannot help feeling some terror at the thought that
Esperance may one day be drawn into those political struggles
you have so often foretold, and in which it is your intention to
act a prominent part"
"Papa will lead the people to victory, and I will fight by his
side ! " cried Esperance, proudly.
Haydee gazed sadly at the enthusiastic boy, and tears came
into her gazelle-like eyes.
" Oh I my lord," she said to her husband, " teach Esperance the
20 EDMOND DANTES.
arts of peace, implant in his boyish bosom, while there is yet
time, the love of home and domestic joys."
The Count glanced admiringly at the little lad, who stood
with dilated nostrils and eyes flashing fire; then, turning to
Haydee he said in an impressive tone:
" My beloved wife, Esperance is but an infant, and it may
be years ere Europe shall awake from Her lethargy and
strive to overturn the thrones of her despots; before that period,
the period of revolution and bloodshed, our son may change
his opinions and cease to be the ardent Republican he is now."
"No, no," protested the enthusiastic boy; "I will be a Re-
publican all my life!"
Monte-Cristo smiled sadly, and, drawing the lad to his knee,
said to him:
" Esperance, my son, you are yet too young to know the
ways of the world and the snares that monarchs set for the
inexperienced and unwary. There are temptations at their
command capable of winning over even the most zealous
enemies, and they never hesitate to use them when the oppor-
tunity offers. At the proper time I will instruct you fully about
all this; now, you cannot understand it."
As Monte-Cristo ceased to Speak, Ali entered the library,
followed by three native servants attached to the palace. The
Nubian bowed low before his master and reverently kissed
Haydee's hand ; the servants did likewise. Then Ali handed the
Count a sealed letter, making signs to the effect that he had
found it tied with a cord to one of the palm trees on the lawn.
Monte-Cristo opened the letter and glanced at the signature ;
as he did so a look of surprise and annoyance settled upon his
face.
The note was written in the French language, and read as
follows :
CotJHT OF Monte-Cristo : I am in hiding on the Island of
Salmis and must see you without delay. Meet me at midnight
in the almond grove near the eastern shore. Be sure to come
alone. Benedetto.
" Humph ! " said the Count to himself as he finished reading
this singular epistle. " I thought I was rid of that scoundrel
forever, but it seems that the galleys at Toulon cannot hold him.
Hflc
THE ISLAND. 21
Well, I suppose I must meet him; otherwise he may take a
notion to come here, which would be both inconvenient and
disagreeable. I imagine he wants a little money to enable him
to escape to the east; if that is all, I will gladly give it to be
rid of his presence on the island. I prefer not to have as a
neighbor a thief and an assassin, even if he did shine so bril-
liantly once in aristocratic Parisian socieiy as the Prince Cav-
alcanti ! "
"What is the matter, my lord?" asked Haydee, noticing the
expression on Monte-Cristo's countenance. " From whom is
the letter?"
"Ohl i
poor fellow wishes my a
in person ; that's all ! "
Haydee was not satisfied with this indefinite reply; she knew
that the contents of the letter so strangely conveyed to her hus'
band had vexed and troubled him ; but she also knew that
Monte-Cristo could be as silent as the tomb about anything
he wished to keep secret, and, therefore, judged it useless to
attempt further questions. Besides, a singular presentiment of
evil had taken possession of her at the sight of the ominous
note, and she felt certain that some disaster was threatened;
hence, she determined to be watchful and keep strict guard over
her children until the mystery, whatever it was, should be cleared
up-
As the clock in his library struck the quarter before mid-
night, Monte-Cristo arose from the chair in which he had been
sitting ; donning his fez and a light cloak, he prepared to go to
the almond grove on the eastern portion of the island, the
spot Benedetto had appointed for their meeting; prior to set-
ting out he slipped into his pocket a well-tilled purse, and
thrust a loaded revolver into the belt he wore about his waist.
" The scoundrel was anxious that I shouTd come alone, but
he did not prohibit me from arming myself," muttered he, with
a grim smile, " and I have seen too much of Signor Benedetto
to care to leave the game entirely in his hands I "
Quitting the palace by a private door, after making sure that
everybody was asleep and that he was unobserved, Monte-
Cristo bent his steps in the direction of the almond grove. It
was a moonless night and very dark; the air was rather chill,
while the roar of the surf sounded louder than usual in ttK
23 EDMOND DANTES.
crisp, bracing atmosphere. The Count gathered his cloak tightly
about bim and walked steadily onward, notwithstanding the
thick darkness. At length the heavy odor of the almond blos-
soms warned him that he was approaching his destination, and
he paused to survey the scene.
About Rfty yards away the almond grove loomed up, cast-
ing a denser shade upon the surrounding blackness. The
Count hastened his steps and in a few seconds stood among
the . trees. As he paused the figure of a man emerged from
behind a huge fragment of rock and thus hailed him:
"Are you the Count of Monte-Crislo?"
" I am," was the firm reply.
"And are you alone, as I recommended?"
"Entirely alone. Now, if you have finished your questions,
pray who are you ? "
"Why do you ask?"
" Merely for form's sake."
"Well, then, I am Benedetta"
" Of course. As it was too dark for me to distinguish your
features, 1 simply wanted to identify, you. Now, state your
business as briefly as possible."
" 1 escaped from Toulon long ago, and, after wandering all
over Europe, settled in Athens, where I remained until a week
since, when the result of a difficulty compelled me to quit the
city."
"An a
" Yes, an a
Monte-Cristo shuddered to hear the cold-blooded villain talk
so calmly of his foul crime, but, conquering his aversion, be said
between his teeth;
" Proceed."
"I fled from Athens under cover of the night, and the next
morning hired a fisherman to bring me here in his boat, think-
ing that the island was inhabited only by a few poverty-stricken
wretches who gained a scanty subsistence from the sea. On my
arrival I was filled with terror at beholding your magnificent
palace, which I was told belonged to a great lord. I naturally
imagined that no one could inhabit such a dwelling save some
high oflicial of the Greek Government, and, without making
further inquiries, again secured the services of the fisherman,
who took me to the neighboring Island of Kylo. There I was
Hflc
THE ISLAND. 23
in safety, for I fell in with a band of slout-hearted men, of
whom I eventually became the chief."
" Bandits, no doubt ! "
" Yes, bandits, if you will, but valiant men all the same.
We prospered exceedingly and imagined that our career could be
continued with impunity as long as we mighi desire; in this,
however, we were sadly mistaken, for one fatal night the Greek
soldiery suddenly descended upon us and hemmed us in on
every side ere we were aware of their presence. We fought
none the less desperately on that account, and in the sanguinary
conflict all my companions were slain. I was grievously
wounded and left for dead, but the following day managed to
crawl to the beach and contrived to be conveyed hither, having
learned by accident that the great lord of the Island of Salmis
was no other than my old friend of happier days, the Count
of Monte-Cristo, in short, yourself. Now, you know ray story.
I am a fugitive here as in France and need your aid to enable
me to escape."
"Yon want money?"
" Yes."
" How much ? "
"A million of francs!"
" Man ! " cried Monte-Cristo, breathless with astonishment at
Benedetto's audacious demand, "you are out of your senses!
I will give you a thousand francs, but not a sou more ! "
" Beware how you trifle with a desperate man ! " hissed Bene-
deilo.
"What have I to fear?" said Monte-Cristo, calmly. "You
" I am not alone. Count of Monte-Cristo ; my stout-hearted
friends of the Island of Kylo are with me, and ready to sup-
port my demand I"
" Then you lied to me ; your story was a base fabrication."
"Partly, Count; but enough of this I want the million of
francs; it is a small sum for you to spare an old friend, who
did you as much service as Prince Andrea Cavalcanti! Are
you going to give me the money?"
" I am not ! " replied Monte-Cristo, drawing his revolver from
his belt and cocking it.
" Ho I ho 1 " laughed Benedetto, mockingly, " that's your game.
24 EDMOND DANTES.
it is? Again I tell you to beware how you trifle with a des-
perate man!"
At the repetition of this phrase, as if it had been a preconcerted
signal, a dozen stalwart figures started up from the darkness
and surrounded MontC'Cristo, who instantly discharged his
weapon right and left among them. Several of the bandits fell,
pierced by the balls, and Benedetto, with a loud oath, leaped
at the Count's throat, brandishing a long, keen-bladed dagger
above his head.
Raising his empty revolver, 'Monte-Cristo with a hand of
iron struck his on-coming assailant full in the face, stretching .
him instantly at his feet; but scarcely had he accomplished this
when three of the bandits sprang upon him and hurled him to
the earth beside Benedetto.
" Now," cried one of the miscreants with a frightful curse,
at the same time placing the muzzle of a pistol at the Coimt's
temple, "now, my lord of Salmis, your time has come!"
As he was about to lire, there arose a tremendous shout, and,
headed by Ati, who swung aloft a Turkish yataghan, the en-
tire force of Monte- Cristo's servants, armed to the teeth, swept
down upon the astonished bandits. At the same instant a pistol-
shot rang out, and the man who had threatened to take the
Count's life fell to the ground a corpse. As Monte-Cristo re-
gained his feet he saw Esperance standing a short distance
away, the smoking weapon with which he had just killed his
father's would-be murderer still clenched in his bo)nsh hand.
The struggle that ensued was of short duration, for the bandits,
finding themselves outnumbered, speedily fled to their boats,
leaving their wounded comrades behind them.
When the Count realized that Esperance, his beloved son,
had saved him from death, he rushed to the heroic lad, took him
in his arms and bore him beyond the reach of danger ; this
done, he returned to aid Ali and the servants, but they were
already victors and in full possession of the held.
A search was made for the body of Benedetto, but it bad
disappeared.
T,Google
with
THE CONFLAGRATION. 25
CHAPTER III.
THK CONFLAGKAIION.
THE Count of Monle-Cristo, Esperance, Ali and the ser-
vants aiiproached the palace on their return from the struggle
with the bandits in the almond grove, their ears were sud-
denly saluted by loud cries of terror. They came from the
N'brary and thither Monte-Cristo hurried, followed by hi? son.
On the floor in the center of Ihe apartment Haydee lay in a
swcii'n, and bending over her mother was Zuleika, screaming
and wringing her little hands. The Count raised his wife
and placed her upon a divan, while Esperance brought a water-
jar and bathed her temples with its cool, refreshing contents,
Ziileika meanwhile holding her mother's hands and sobbing
violently.
At last Haydee recovered consciousness, and opening her
eyes gazed wildly around her; seeing her husband, Esperance
and Zuleika safe beside ber, she uttered a faint sigh of relief.
Jt was several moments longer before she could speak; then
be exclaimed in a tremulous voice :
"Oh my lord, did you meet that terrible man?"
"What man, Haydee?" asked the Coiuit. "Do you mean
Benedetto?"
" I do not know his name; I never saw him before," answered
Haydee; but his face was all battered and bleeding; on his
uncovered head the locks were matted and unkempt, and his
garments were torn as if in wrenching his way through a thicket
i( tangled briers."
"Benedetto, it was Benedetto!" cried Mcinle-Cristo. "You
do not mean to say he was here, in this room?"
"He was here and only a short time ago," replied Haydee,
with a shudder, " I was standing at the window with Zuleika
len he rushed by me like a whirlwind, and going to your
etary endeavored to open it, but in vain ; then with a cry
rage he ran to the window, leaped out into the darkness and
was gone ! I know nothing further, for as he vanished I fell
the floor in a swoon,"
Montc-Crtsto touched a bell and almost immediately Ali
stood bowing before him. as calm and unmoved as though
ual had occiirrcd.
^glht
ougle
26 EDMOND DANTBS.
"Ali," said the Count, "post all the servants within and
without the palace, and let the strictest watch be kept until
dawn. The chief of the bandits, who is no other than the former
Prince Cavalcanli, was here in our absence and must yet be
hovering in the vicinity. See that he does not effect another
entrance, as his purpose is robbery if not murder!"
AH signified by his eloquent pantomime that he had already
taken it upon himself to station the servants as his master had
directed, and that it would be utterly impossible for any one to
approach the palace without being seen and seized.
As the faithful Nubian turned to retire, Monte-Cristo no-
ticed that his right hand was bandaged as if wounded, and in-
quired whether he had been hurt in the conflict with the bandits.
Ali explained that a dagger thrust had cut his palm, but that
the wound had been properly cared for and would soon heal.
When the Count and his family were once more alone to-
gether, Haydee threw herself at her husband's feet and hum-
bly demanded pardon.
'What have you done to require pardon?" asked Monte-
Cristo, in astonishment. " Speak, but I forgive you beforehand."
" Oh ! my lord," said Haydee, still maintaining her kneeling
posture despite her husband's efforts to raise her, " oh ! my lord,
I have been guilty of a despicable act, but my love for you
and fears for your safety must be my excuse. You left the
letter you received so strangely this morning lying upon your
secretary. I opened it and hurriedly made myself acquainted
with Its contents, for I had a premonition that some terrible
danger threatened you. Oh ! my lord, pardon, pardon I "
Monte-Cristo raised her to her feet, and imprinted a kiss
upon her pallid brow.
" So then, it is to you, Haydee, that I owe my timely rescue
from the hands of Benedetto and his band of cut-throats ! Had
you committed even a much more serious fault than peeping
into my correspondence, that would be more than sufficient to
secure my full forgiveness. But do you know that Esperance
shot and killed the miscreant who held his pistol to my temple
and was about to blow out my brains ? "
"Esperance?" said Haydee in bewilderment. "Did he not
remain behind with Zuleika and myself? "
' No, mamma," satd the boy, holding his head proudly erect.
" I could not remain behind, I knew papa was in danger, and.
THE CONFLAGRATION. 27
taking a pistol that I had seen Ali load this morning from
the cabinet of tire-arms, 1 followed the servants, arriving at the
almond grove jnst in time."
Haydee ran to her son, and, taking him in her arms, pressed
him fondly to her heart, kissing him again and again.
" Oh 1 Esperance," she cried, " had I known you were in the
midst of those bloodthirsty cut-throats I should have died of
terror I But you have saved your father's life, my son, and 1
bless you for it! "
" He is a little hero," said Monte-Cristo, impressively.
Zuleika had thrown herself upon the divan, and, utterly worn
out by the excitement through which she had passed, was al-
ready wrapped in a deep slumber. The count, Haydee and
Esperance, however, could not resign themselves to sleep, and
when the gray light of dawn appeared in the eastern sky, they
were still tn the library and still watching.
Benedetto had not been seen again, and a diligent search of
the entire island, made by Ali and the servants, failed to reveal
even the slightest trace of him. He had evidently succeeded
in finding some fisherman's skiff and in it had made his escape.
This view of the case was confirmed a few hours later, when
old Alexis came to the palace and informed Monte-Cristo that
his smack had vanished during the night, having, in all prob-
ability, been carried off, by thieves.
" I knew," said the fisherman, " that the Island of Kylo was
infested by bandits, but I had no idea they would venture here.
Now, however, I thought I had better put you on your guard."
" I am much indebted to you, Alexis," said the Count ; then
slipping a purse of money into his hand, he added; "Take
that and provide yourself with a new boat."
Alexis touched his cap, bowed and was about to withdraw
when Monte-Cristo said to him, assuming a careless tone :
" By the way, my good fellow, have you ever chanced to meet
any of the bandits you mentioned?"
" Often, Excellency," replied Alexis.
"What kind of men are they?"
" Bold, bad wretches, whose hands have been more than once
stained with innocent blood."
"What is their strength?"
" They number about fifty."
"Do any women dwell among them?"
D,r,l,7.lT,GOOglC
28 EDMOND DANTES.
" Yes, Excellency, their wives and sweethearts."
"Who is the leader of the band?"
" A strange, morose mao, who has not been long in their
" Is he a Greek?"
" No, Excellency, he ia a foreigner,"
" A Frenchman ? "
" Quite likely, though I am not sure."
"What is his name?"
" He calls himself Demetrius."
"Did he ever question you ahout me?"
" Yes, Excellency."
" And what did you reply? "
" I told him you were the Count of Monte-Cristo."
"Ahl what did he say then?"
" He said he had heard of you before."
"That will do, Alexis; I have all the information I require."
The fisherman again touched his cap, and, making a low
bow, took his departure.
Under ordinary circumstances Monte-Cristo would not have
been 'disturbed by the presence of bandits so near the Island
of Salmis, but it became an altogether different thing when
those bandits were led by Benedetto.
A month passed, but in it nothing occurred calculated to
break the tranquillity of the Count and his family. The ban-
dits had not reappeared and Benedetto had given no sign of
lite. The faithful Ali no longer deemed it necessary to main-
tain his precautions against surprise, and the strict watch
that had been kept up day and night ever since the conflict in
the almond grove was abandoned. Haydee, Zuleika and Es-
peraiice resumed their usual mode of life, having apparently
dismissed the robbers from their minds," while even Monte-
Cristo seemed free from all uneasiness.
One night, while the Count was writing at a late hour in
the library, he yielded to fatigue and fell asleep over his
papers. His slumber was troubled with a strange and vivid.
A man in the picturesque garb of a Greek peasant, and wear-
ing a mask on his face, suddenly stood before him, with his
arms folded upon his breast. Monte-Cristo saw him distinctly,
though tmable to stir cither hand or foot. The singular visi-
THE CONFLAGRATION. 29
lant surveyed the Count long and steadily. There was some-
thing vaguely familiar about him, but as to his identity the
sleeper could -form no idea. At last he slowly removed the
mask, and recognition was instantaneous. The man was Dang-
lars. He raised his right hand, and, pointing with his fore-
finger at the Count, said deliberately, with a hiss like some
venomous serpent :
" Edmond Dant^s, there is a bitter account open between us,
and I am here to force you to a bitter settlement I "
The light of the huge lamp, suspended from the ceiling, fell
upon Danglars' countenance ; it was as bloodless as that of a
corpse, and the eyes shone with a remorseless, vindictive glare.
The banker continued in the same hissing tone, his words pene-
trating to the very marrow of the slumberer's bones :
" Count of MontC'Cristo, for by that name it still pleases
you to be called, listen to me. By the most ingenious and
fiendish combinations possible for a human being to contrive you
wrecked my fortune and with it my hopes. You drove me ig-
nominiously from Paris ; in Rome you caused me to be starved
and robbed by Luigi Vampa and his brigands; then with the
malevolent magnanimity of an arch-demon you sent me forth
into the world a fugitive and an outcast Count of Monte-
Cristo, Edmond Dantes, low-born sailor of Marseilles, modern
Mephistopheles as you are, I will be even with you ! You have
had your vengeance; now you shall fee! mine! Here in the
Grecian Archipelago, on the Island of Salmis, I will torture your
dearest affections, and grind you to dust beneath my heel ! "
As Danglars finished, his features changed and became those
of Villetort, while his Greek peasant's garb was transformed
into the sombre habiliments of the Procureur du Roi. Ville-
fort's face wore the look of madness, but there was a freezing
calmness in his voice as he said:
" Edmond Dantes, Count of Monte-Cristo, gaze upon the ruin
you have made. Through you I was dragged down from my
high position, exposed, humiliated and deprived of reason. But
although the mere wreck of my former self,- 1 am not utterly
powerless, as you shall learn to your cost. You raised up my
infamous son, Benedetto, to be the instrument of my destruc-
tion. Now, he shall work yours, and avenge his unhappy
father ! "
The apparition paused, sighed deeply, and then resumed in a
tone of still greater menace :
ilc
30 EDMOND DANTES.
" Count of Slonte-Cristo, look well to your beloved wife,
Haydde, look well to your heroic son Esp6ranee, look well to
your darling daughter, Zuleika, tor this night they are in fri^-
ful danger! Look well to your fabulous riches, for they are
threatened ; look well to your stately and magnificent palace,
for already Uie element that shall devour it is noiselessly and
steathily at work ! Count of Monie-Cristo, farewell ! "
A heart-rending shriek rang in the sleeper's ears, a mighty
flash dazzled his eyes, and, with a grim smile upon his pallid
countenance, Villefort vanished.
Monte-Cristo awoke with a quick start and passed his hand
across his forehead, as if dazed; then he leaped to his feet and
glanced breathlessly about him. Danglars and Villefort had been
only the idle coinage of his brain, but the heart-rending shriek,
the mighty flash, they were, indeed, stern realities the shridt
was Haydee's, and the flash was fire I
" My God ! " cried Monte-Crislo, standing for an instant
rooted to the spot, "can it be possible that this dream is the
truth after all, and that I am even now to feel the vengeance of ,
those two men?"
He sprang into the spacious hatl that was as light as day, and,
as he did so, the figure of a man rushed by him it was Bene-
detto, and in his hand he held a long knife dripping with
blood. The Count turned and pursued him, snatching a dagger
from a table as he ran. At the door leading to the lawn, he
grasped him firmly by the shoulder and held him.
" Murderer I " he shouted, " whose blood is that upon your
"The blood of Haydee, the Greek slave!" hissed Benedetto,
with a glare of ferocious triumph, "the blood of Haydee, your
wife I Edmond Dantes, I am even with you!"
Monte-Cristo struck at the assassin with his dagger, btit
Benedetto eluded the blow, and raising his own weapon inflicted
a frightful gash upon the Count's cheek.
A terrible struggle ensued. Monte-Cristo was possessed of
wonderful strength and activity, but in both these respects the
two desperate antagonists seemed fairly matched. Three times
did the Count bury his dagger in Benedetto's body, hut, though
"s blood gushed copiously from his wounds, he con-
1 fight with the utmost determination. At length the
THE CONFLAGRATION. 31
men grappled in a supreme, deadly effort, but Monte-Cristo,
making a false step, slipped on the blood-spattered marble floor,
and Benedetto, with the quickness of thought, hurling him back-
ward, freed himself and bounding through the open doorway
vanished in the darkness beyond.
The Count uttered a groan of despair as he saw Haydee's
self-confessed murderer escape him, and staggered to his feet;
the fierce conflict with Benedetto had exhausted him, and he
stood for an instant panting and breathless. The shrieks had
now grown fainter and the hall was full of smoke. During
all this time neither All nor any of the servants under him had
appeared, a circumstance that, lo Monte-Cristo, seemed inex-
plicable. He, however, did not pause to give it thought, but
dashed up the stairway and strove lo reach his wife's apartment;
blinding, stifling clouds of smoke, through which penetrated
the glare of the conflagration, drove him back again and again,
but he renewed his attempts to force a passage with undaunted
energy and courage. Finally, compressing his lips and holding
his nostrils with the thumb and forefinger of his right hand, he
gave a headlong plunge, and succeeded in reaching Haydee's
door ; it was open, displaying a scene that caused the Count's
heart to sink within him; the whole chamber was one sea of
Same; fiery tongues, like so many writhing and hissing ser-
pents, were licking and consuming the costly tapestry, the richly'
carved furniture and the magnificent objects of art; the cur-
tains of the bed were blazing, and upon the couch lay the
senseless form of the wife of Monte-Cristo, the pallor of her
faultless countenance contrasting painfully with the ruddy glow
of the devouring element In Haydee's breast was a gaping
wound, from which her life blood was slowly oozing in ruby
Rendered utterly reckless by the terrible sight, the Count
madly rushed to the couch, tore his beloved Haydee from it,
and, clasping her tightly against his bosom, staggered into the
corridor with his precious burden. There the smoke had in-
creased in volume and density, but, summoning all his resolu-
tion and endurance to his aid, he plunged through it, and finally
was successful in reaching the library.
Then, with the swiftness of a flash of lightning, the husband
was replaced by the father, and Monte-Cristo, for the first time
since Haydee's shrieks had awakened him from his dream.
Hflc
32 EDMOND DANTES.
thought of his children. Where were they and what had hap-
pened to them? The Count felt a cold perspiration break out
upon his forehead, and a feeling of unspeakable dread took
entire possession of him. Haydee demanded immediate atten-
tion, but Esperance and Zuleika must instantly be found and
rescued. At the top of his voice Monte-Cristo shouted for All,
but no reply was returned. Fearing to leave Haydee for even
a moment, the Count strode about the library like a caged wild
animal, still holding her in his arms. He shouted again and
again until he was hoarse, calling distractedly upon Esperance,
Zuleika and all the servants in turn.
At last an answering shout came suddenly from the lawn,
and old Alexis, followed by several fishermen, leaped into
the library through an open window.
Resigning Haydee to Alexis, the Count, accompanied hy
the fishermen, fairly flew to the apartment of his children,
situated on a corridor in another portion of the palace. There
Esperance and Zuleika were discovered gagged and hotmd;
they lay upon the floor of their chamber, while Ati, who bad
been treated in like manner, was extended near them. To re-
lease the prisoners was but the work of a moment, and then
it was learned that all the servants under Ah were confined in
their dormitory. They, as well as Monte-Cristo's children
and the Nubian, had been suddenly seized by a party of rough-
looking Greeks, evidently a portion of Benedetto's band
Meanwhile the flames had spread from Hay dee's chamber
to the adjoining quarters of the edifice, and the entire palace
seemed doomed, for to check the conflagration appeared im-
possible, but so happy had the Count been made by the re-
covery of his son and daughter, unharmed, that he gave him-
self no concern about the probable destruction of his magnificent
property.
Seizing his children, he directed AH and the fishermen to re-
lease the captive servants, and hastily returned to the library.
As he entered the room Haydee ottered a low groan and opened
her eyes; she was lying on a divan, where old Alexis had placed
her. Esperance and Zuleika sprang to her side ; she took each
by the hand, and as she did so they saw the wound in her
breast. Zuleika burst into tears. Esperance compressed his
lips and grew deadly pale.
" My loved ones," said Haydee, faintly, " I feel that I am
,Google
THE CONFLAGRATION. 33
about to leave you forever, perh^s in a few moments. Be
good children and obey your father in all things. Esperance,
Znlcika, stoop and kiss tne."
They did as she desired; her lips were already purple and
cold; the stamp of death was upon her features. Suddenly her
frame was convulsed and her eyes assumed a gUssy look.
" Monte- Cris to, my husband, where are you?" she said i:i a
broken voice.
" Here, Haydee," answered the Count, approaching.
He strove to appear calm, but could not control his emotion.
" Nearer, nearer, Edmond," said Haydee, growing weaker and
weaker.
The Count sank on his knees beside his dying wife and put
his arms about her neck.
"Oh! Haydee, Haydee," he sobbed; "thrice accursed by the
infamous wretch who has done this I"
"Edmond, my children, "farewell," gasped Haydee; "I am
going to a better land I "
The death rattle was in her throat; she raised herself with
a mighty effort, gazcA lovingly at her husband and children,
and strove to speak again, but could not ; then a Bickering shade
of violet passed over her countenance, and she fell back dead.
Esperance and Zuleika stood as if stunned ; Monte-Cristo was
overwhelmed with grief and despair.
" The whole palace is in flames ! Save yourselves ! save your-
selves!" cried a fisherman, rushing into the library, followed
by his companions, Aii and the servants.
Monte-Cristo leaped to his feet, seizing the corpse of Hay-
dee and raising it in his arms. Ali grasped Esperance and
Zuleika, and the entire party hastened from the burning ediiice.
They were not an instant too soon, for as they quitted the
library the tempest of fire burst into it, accompanied by tor-
rents of smoke. The fishermen and servants, commanded by
the Nubian, had made every effort to save the doomed man-
sion, but in vain,
Monte-Cristo and his children found refuge in the hut of
Alexis, to which Haydee's body was reverently borne. '
The wife of Monte-Cristo was buried on the Island of Salmis,
and over her remains her husband erected a massive monu-
Shortly afterwards the Count, Esperance and Zuleika, at-
,Googlc-
34 EDMOND DANTES.
tended by the faithful Ali, quitted the Island and took passage
on a vessel bound for France. '
CHAPTER IV.
THE NEWS FROM ALCEBIA.
Beauchamf, the journalist, sat at his desk iir his editorial
sanctum early one bright morning in the autumn of 1841. He
had gone to work long before his usual hour, for important
movements were on foot, the political atmosphere was agitated
and Paris was in a stale of feverish excitement; besides. Beau-
champ had that day printed in his journal a dispatch from
Algeria that would be certain to cause a great sensation, and,
with the proper spirit of pride, the journalist desired to be at
his post that he might receive the numerous congratulations his
friends could not fail to offer, as the dispatch had appeared
in his paper alone.
The sanctum had not an attractive look ; in fact, it was rather
dilapidated, while, in addition, the disorder occasioned by the
previous night's work had not been repaired, and all was chaos
and confusion.
Beauchamp was busily engaged in glancing over the rival
morning papers when Lucien Debray entered and seated him-
self at another desk. The Ministerial Secretary smiled upon the
journalist in a knowing way, and the latter, nodding to him
with an air of triumph, silently pointed to the pile of journals
he had finished examining. Lucien took them up, and without
a word began scanning their contents.
"Glorious news that from the army in Algeria 1" cried
Chateau-Ren aud, rushing into the sanctum.
" Glorious, indeed ! " replied the editor, looking up from the
paper over which he was hurriedly skimming. On the huge
table at his side, as well as beneath it, and under his feet and his
capacious arm-chair, nothing was 10 be seen but newspapers.
" Take a chair, Renaud, if you can find one, and help your-
self to the news. You see 1 have Lucien similarly engaged
yonder."
The Ministerial Secretary glanced up from his papers, re-
T,Google
THE NEIVS FROM ALGERIA. :15
d Ills friend's aaiuialion and resumed his r(!adiiig. He
was dressed with his customary elegance and richness, lint his
form and face were fuller than when last before the reader,
and his brown hair was besprinkled with gray.
" I congratulate you, Beauchamp, on being the first to give the
news," continued Chateau-Renaud. " Not a paper in Paris
but your own has a line from the army this morning."
" Rather congratulate me and my paper on having a friend
"Ha! and that explains the fact, otherwise inexplicable, that
ipposition jottrnal has intelligence, which cinly the Bureau
/ar could have anticipated ! Treason treason I "
'he editor and the Secretary exchanged significant smiles.
Oh ! I don't doubt that your favors are reciprocal," continued
_ young aristocrat, laughing. " I've half a mind to be some-
thing useful myself Minister editor anything but an idler and
a lawgiver just to experience the exquisite sensation of a new
pleasure the pleasure of revealing and pubUshing to the world
something it knew not before. Why, you two fellows, in this
dark and dirty little room, are the two greatest men in Paris
this morning or were, rather, before your paper, Beauchamp,
laid before the world what only you and Lucien knew previously.
Ohl the delight, the rapture of knowing something that nobody
else knows, and then of making the revelation I "
" And this news from Algeria is really important," remarked
the editor.
" Important 1 So important that it will be before the Cham-
bers this morning," replied the Secretary.
" So I supposed," said the Deputy, " and called to learn ad-
ditional particular.^, if you had any, on my way to the Chambers."
" We gave all we had, my dear Lycurgus, and for that we are
indebted to an official dispatch, telegraphed to the War Office,
and faithfully re-tclegraphed to us by our well-beloved Liicien."
' It's true, then, as I have sometimes suspected, that the
wires radiate from the Minister's sanctum to the editor's?" was
the laughing rejoinder.
" It must be so, or there's -witchcraft in it There's witch-
craft, at any rate, in this new invention. Speed, secrecy, se-
curity and surety no eastern genius of Arabian fiction can be
tompared lo the electric telegraph; and how Ministers or editors
ttinued to keep the world in vassalage, as i.\vev a.\'wjs ta-^t
I L n-.l-,Q00^W
W EDitOSD DASTES.
A'/nt, wiilKim ihu rcadj stare, s ttim now scarce less wimder-
inl tban tbe inf-cniion hsdf. Initead of de tr ac t ing from the
[losver of the press, tbe telegraph renders it more powerful than
"But affairs in Algeria is not ibe news sfdendidl" cried the
editfrr. ~ \Mij did we not all become Spahis and win immor-
tality, as some of oar generals have? "
"As to immortality," said the Secretary, "we shoald have
been far tnore likely to win tbe phantom as dead men than as
living heroes."
" Debray was at the raising of the siege of Constantine," said
Beauchamp laughing, " and knows all about the honors of war."
" Yes, indeed, and all about the raptnres of starvation, of cold
and hunger, after victory, and the ecstatic felicity of being pur-
sued by six Bedouins, and after having slain five having my
own neck encircled by the yataghan of the sixth!"
" And how chanced it that yon saved your head, Lucien ? "
asked the Count.
"Save it I didn't save it; but a most excellent friend of
mine a friend in need galloped up and saved it for me."
" Yes," replied Beauchamp, " our gallant friend Maximilian
Morrel, the Captain of Spahis now colonel of a regiment, and
in the direct line of promotion to the first vacant baton eh,
Lucien ? A lucky thing [o save the head of one of the War
Office from a Bedouin's yataghan. Up up up, like a balloon,
has this young Spahi risen ever since."
"You are wrong, Beauchamp. Not like a balloon. Rather
like a planet. Maximilian Morrel is one of the most gallant
young men in the French army, and step by step, from rank
to rank, has he hewn his own path with his good sabre, in a
trong hand, nerved by a brave heart and proud ambition, to the
position he now holds."
" His name 1 see among the immortals in the dispatch of this
morning. Well, well, Morrel is a splendid fellow, no doubt, but
it's a splendid thing to have friends in the War Office neverthe-
less, who will give that splendor a chance to shine will plant the
Itghlcd candle in a candlestick, and not smother its beams under
B huihel."
" Morrel has now been in Africa five whole years," said the
Secrelnry " few months only excepted after his marriage
THE NEWS FROM ALGERIA. 37
Uth Villefon's fair daughter, Valentine (as was said), when lie
s indulged with a furlough fur his honeymoon."
"She is not in Paris?" asked Bcauchamp.
; she leads the life of a perfect recluse with her child,
; her husband's absence, at his villa somewhere in the
-near Marseilles, where the department forwards her
" Yet she is said to be a raagniticent woman," remarked the
** Wonderful ! " cried Bcauchamp. " A niagiiiiicciit woman
jtld a recluse ! "
" Oh 1 but it was a love-match of the most devoted species,
t remember."
*" True ; she was to have married our friend, Frsmz d'Epinay."
"And died to save herself from that fate, I suppose and
afterwards was resurrected and blessed Morrel with her hand
and heart, and the most exquisite person that even a jaded
voluptuary could covet, Happy happy happy man I "
^' Apropos of dying," said the Secretary, " do you remember
w fast people died at M. de Villefort's house about that time? "
' Horrible ! A whole family of two or three gencralions, one
Biter the other ! First M. and Madame de Saint- Meran then
Barrois, the old servant of M. Noirtier then Valentine, and,
last of all, Madame de Villefort and Edward, her idol. No
jonder that M. le Procureur du Roi himself went mad under
1 an accumulation of horrors! By the by, Debray, is M.
e Villefort still an inmate of the Maison Royale de Cbarenton ? "
" 1 know nothing to the contrary," replied the Secretary, who
is paper, and to whom the subject seemed not
altogellier agreeable. " He is an incurable." Then, as if to
lurn the subject, he continued: "Apropos of the immortals of
Algeria, here is a name that seems destined even to a more rapid
Iotheosis than that of the favored Morrel."
"You mean Jolictte?" said the editor. "Who, in the name
all that is mysterious and heroic, is this same Joliette? I
v found it impossible to discover, with all the means at the
mmand of the press."
" And I, with all the means at the command of the Govern-
ait. All we can discover is this that he is a man of about
eniy-five; that he enJisled at Marseilles, atiA wi \fts% Onaa
^Huch i
^ Vil
^Tiad ri
,G(-)t.)t^le
38 EDMOND DANTES.
three years has risen from (be ranks to the command of a
battalion. His career has been most brilliant."
" And to whose favor does he owe his wonderful advance-
ment, Beauchamp?" asked the Deputy, laughing.
"To that of Marshal Bugeaud, Governor -General of Algeria."
Ah ! "
" Who has indulged him with an appointment in every forlorn
" lixccUent ! '' cried the Count. " What more could a man
resolved to be a military immortal desire? Immortality the
goal two paths conduct to it each sure death life ! the for-
nicr tlic shorter, and, perhaps, the surer ! But there is one
name I never see in the war dispatches. Do you ever meet
with it, Messrs. editor and Secretary I mean the name of our
brilliant friend, Albert de Worcerf? The rumor ran that, after
the disgrace and suicide of the Count, his father, he and his
mother went south, and he later to Africa."
" I have hardly seen the name of Morccrf in print since the
paragraph headed ' Yanina ' in my paper, about which poor
Albert was so anxious to light me."
" Nor I," said Debray. " But wliere now is Madame de Mor-
cerf? Without exception, she was the most splendid specimen
" High praise that 1 " cried the Count, laughing. " Who would
suppose our cold, calculating, ambitious, haughty, talented and
opulent diplomat and aristocrat had so much blood in his veins?
When before was he known to admire anything, male or fe-
male but himself or, at all events, to be guilty of the bad taste
of expressing that admiration ? "
"Debray is right," replied the journalist, somewhat gravely,
" Madame de Morcerf was, indeed, a noble and dignified woman
accomplished, lovely, dignified, amiable "
" Stop I stop ! in the name of all that's forbearing, be con-
siderate of my weak nerves ! You, too, Beauchamp. Well, she
must have been a paragon to make the conquest of two of the
most inveterate bachelors in all Paris ! But where is this marvel
of excellence pardon me, Beauchamp," perceiving that the
journalist looked yet more grave, and seemed in no mood for
bantering or being bantered "where is Madame de Morcerf
at the present time?"
"Ai Marseilles, J have heard."
T,Google
THE NEWS FROM ALGERIA.
39
"Aiiil is married again?"
" No. She is yet a widow."
"And is a recluse, like Morrel's beautiful wifu?"
"So says report. They dwell together."
"How romantic! The young wife, whose hero-husband is
winutng glory amid the perils of war and pestilence, pours her
griefs, joys and anticipations into the bosom of the young mother,
I who appreciates and reciprocates all, because she has a son
exposed to the same perils and both beautiful as the morning!
A charming picture! Two immortais in epaulets and sashes in
tbe background are only wanted instead of one. But I must to
BC Chambers. M. Dant^s is expected to speak in the tribune
pis morning upon his measure for the workmen."
P " Do you know. Count, who this M. Dantes really is?" asked
"There's a question for a Ministerial Secretary to ask a mem-
ber while a joiirnalist sit? by! I only know of M. Dames that
he is the mo.'it eloque." man I ever listened to. I don't mean
that he's the greatest man, or the profoundest statesman, or the
wisest politician, or the sagest political economist; but I do
mean thai, for natural powers of persuasion and denunciation
Mor natural oratory I have never known his rival. If Plato's
' that oratory must be estimated by its effects,' is at
ect, then is M. Dantes the greatest orator in France,
the effect of his oratory is miraculous. There is a sort
of magic in his clear, sonorous, powerful, yet most exquisitely
modulated voice, and the wave of his arm is like that of a
wand,"
enthusiastic. Count," observed Beauchamp, "but
very just. M. Dantes is, indeed, a remarkable man, and pos-
sessed of remarkable endowments, both of mind and body. His
personal advantages are wonderful. Such a figure and grace
as his arc alone worth more than all the powers oi other dis-
tinguished speakers for popular effecL ' The eyes of the multi-
tude are more eloquent than their ears,' as the English Shakes-
Ee says."
I never saw such eyes and such a face," remarked Debray,
t oiice in my life. Do you remember the Count of Monte-
We shall not soon forgi-t him," was tW rep\^. ''ft^^X. ftoa
"You i
,G(-)t.it^le
40 EDMOND DANTES.
man differs greatly from tbe Count in most respects, though
certainly not unlike him in others."
"True," replied the Secretary; "in manners, habits, costume
and a thousand other things there is a marked difference. Be-
sides, the Count was said to be incalculably rich, while the
Deputy has every appearance of being in very moderate cir-
cumstances. But he leads a life so retired that he is known
only in the Chambers and in bis public character. I allude
to the Deputy's person, when I speak of resemblance to that
wonderful Count, who set all Paris in a fever, and, more won-
derful still, kept it so for a whole season. There is I know
not what in his air and manners that often recalls to me that
extraordinary man. There are the same large and powerful
eyes, the same brilliant teeth for which the women envied the
Count so much, the same graceful and dignified figure, the
same peculiar voice, the same good taste in dress, and, above all,
the same colorless, pallid face, as if, to borrow the idea of the
Countess of G , he had risen from the dead, or was a visi-
tant from another world, or a vampire of this. Her celebrated
friend, Lord B , she used to say, was the only man she ever
knew with such a complexion."
"But, if I recollect rightly," said Beauchamp, "the Count of
Monte-Cristo was somewhat noted for his profusion of black
hair and beard. The Deputy Dantes is utterly out of the
mode, and out of good taste, too, as to wear no beard, and his
hair is short. His face is as smooth as a woman's and he al-
ways wears a white cravat like a cure."
" But he is, nevertheless, one of the handsomest men in Paris,"
added the Count " at least the women say so. You might
add, the Deputy has many gray hairs among his black ones, and
many furrows on his white brow, while Monte-Cristo had
neither. Besides, M. Dantes has a handsome daughter and a
son who resembles him greatly, both well grown, while the
Count was childless."
" Well, well, be his person and family what they may," said
the Secretary, rising, "I wish to God the Ministry could se-
cure his talents. I tell you. Messieurs, that man's influence
over the destinies of France is to be almost omnipotent. His
powerful mind has grasped the great problem of the ^e re-
muneration for labor. The next revolution in France will hinge
upon that mark the prediction and this man and his coad-
f EDMOND DANTES, DEPUTY FROM MARSEILLES. 41
., among whom Beauchamp here is one, are doing all they
can 10 hasten the crisis. The whole soul of this remarkable
man seems devoled to the elevation of the masses the laboring
classes the people and to the amelioration of their condition.
Ills efforts and those of all like him cannot ultimately succeed.
Hut they will have a tetnporary triumph, and the streets of
ParL' will run with blood ! These men are rousing terrible
agencies. They are evoking the fiends of hunger and misery,
which will neither obey them nor lie down at their bidding."
" And the magicians who have summoned these foul fiends will
prove tbeir earliest victims 1 " said Chateau-Ren aud, in some
cried Beauchamp, risitlg.
" Pardon me, but this discussion must cease, at least here. It
can lead to no good result. As the conductor of a reform jour-
nal, I entirely differ with you both. But let not political dif-
ferences interfere with our personal friendship. Come, come,
old friends, let us forsake Ibis place, redolent with politics,
having a very atmosphere of discussion, and repair to the Cham-
bers, taking Very's on our way."
" .\greed ! " cried the Deputy and the Secretary, and the
three left the journalist's
^HHBkaitchamp, Lucien Debray and Chateau -Renaud were not
^^HC only persons puzzled with regard to the enigmatical M.
^POkntes; all Paris was more or less bothered about him; his
^*ntire career prior to his appearance at the capital as the
Deputy from Marseilles seemed shrouded in impenetrable mys-
tery, and this was the more galling to the curious Parisians as
his wonderful oratorical powers and his intense republicanism
rendered him the cynosure of all eyes and made him the sensa-
tion of the hour. The Government had instituted investiga-
tions concerning him, but without result; even in Marseilles
^Im antecedents were unknown ; he had come there from the
^^BU utterly unheralded, attended only by a b\ack ^eTN%n^, %n^
CHAPTER V.
ftoMOND DANTis, LEPUTY FROM MAHSEHLES.
,G(-)t.)t^lt.'
42 . EDMOND DANTES.
bringing with him his son and daughter, but almost immediately
he had plunged into politics, winning his way to the front with
startling rapidity. From the first he had ardently espoused the
cause of the working people, and such was his personal mag-
netism that he had made hosts of admirers, and had been chosen
Deputy with hardly a dissenting voice. Some of the inhabitants
of Marseilles, indeed, remembered a youthful sailor named Ed-
mond Dantes, but they asserted that he had been dead many
years, and that the Deputy was unlike him in every particular.
As the young men passed the Theatre Fran^ais, on their way
to the Chamber of Deputies, after a glass of sherry and a bk-
euit at Very's, their attention was attracted by a crowd gathered
around an immense poster spread upon the bill-board. There
seemed no little excitement among the throng, a large pro-
portion of whom appeared to be artisans and laborers, and
loud expressions of admiration, accompanied by animated ges-
tures, were heard. Nor were there wanting also words of deep
denunciation and of significant threatening,
" Down 1 down with the tyrants ! Bread or blood ! Wages
for work ! Food for the laborer ! " and other cries of equally
fearful significance were audible.
"Do you hear that, Beauchamp?" said Debray, quietly.
" Undoubtedly," was the equally quiet reply.
" There laborers have deserted the daily toil which would give
them the bread they so fiercely demand, in order to discuss
their imaginary misery, and denounce those who are richer
than themselves."
"But what brings them to the theatre at this hour?" asked
Chateau-Renaud.
" The new play," suggested Beauchamp.
"Ah! the new play. 'The Laborer of Lyons,' is it not?"
" Yes," said Debray, " and one of the most dangerous pro-
ductions of the hour."
" It is evidently from the pen of one unaccustomed to dra-
matic composition, yet familiar with stage effect," added the jour-
nalist. " And yet, without the least claptrap, with but little
melodramatic power, against strong opposition and bitter prej-
udices, and without claquers, its own native force and the
popularity of the principles it supports have carried it triumph-
antly through the ordeal of two representations. It will, doubt-
/ess, have a long run, and its infiuence will be incalculable in
Uh
EDMOND DANTES, DEPUTY FROM MARSEILLES. 43
t advocates the cause of human liberty and human
hht."
doubt it will exert a most baneful influence," bitterly
1 Debray. " Without containing a syllable to which the
inistry can object, at least sufficiently to warrant its suppres*
sion, it yel abounds with principles, sentiments and theories of
the most incendiary description, well calculated to rouse the
disaffection of the laboring classes to frenzy. Its inevitable
effect will be to give them a false and exaggerated idea of their
wrongs and their rights, and to stimulate lliem to revolution.
Oh ! these men have much to answer for. They are drawing
avalanche."
" They are the champions of human liberty," said Beauchamp,
rarmly, "and will be blessed by posterity, if not by the men of
present generation."
Truce to politics. Messieurs ! " cried the Deputy, observing
that his friends were becoming excited. " I had heard of tliis
play and its powerful character. Who's the author, Beauchamp ? "
" The production is attributed to M. Dantes, the Deputy from
Jttarseilles, with what truth I know not; but he is fully capable
of composing such a drama. To-morrow night, it is supposed,
Ihe author, whoever he may be, will be conipeiled by the
people to appear and claim the laurels ready to be showered
on him in such profusion. But it is nearly three o'clock," con-
tinued Beauchamp, " and M. Dantes is expected to speak in the
early part of the sitting,"
" To the Chamber, then," said the others, and the trio mingled
with the crowd hurrying in the same direction.
What a glorious thing is popularity 1 " exclaimed the Count.
What a glorious thing to be the champion of the people 1 " re-
ined Beauchamp,
And how gidrious is that champion's glorious career I" cried
Secretary. " Let the hydra alone. Like the antique god
of mythology, it eats up its own children as soon as they get
large enough to be eaten. It is a fickle beast, and the idol of
to-day it crushes to-morrow."
The hall of the Chamber of Deputies was crowded when the
three friends entered. Although the hour for the President to
lake the chair had not yet arrived, the benches were full, and
llle galleries, public and private, were overflowing. Strong agi-
ir.iblc among ihc Ministerial tcndwa oV 'Cor, c-k.-
,Gi.)t)'
gk_
EDMOND DANTES.
trcme left. The Premier himself was present, although his
cold countenance, like the surface of a frozen lake, betrayed
neither apprehension nor the reverse. Self-reliant, self-poised,
calm, seemingly liisensihle to surrounding objects and events,
this man of iron, with a heart of ice and a brain of fire, glanced
quietly and fixedly around him, v^ith his cold, dark eye, which,.
from time to time, rested on the Communist benches of tha'
extreme right unmoved by the stern glances hurled at
by his many fierce opponents and the almost tumultuous ex-
citement by which they were agitated.
At length President Sauzet took the chair. The house came
to order, and the sitting opened with the usual preliminary busi
ness, A large number of petitions from the workmen of Paris
for employment by the Government were presented and !
ferred, and one immense roll containing a, hundred thousand
names, which came from the manufacturing districts,
brought ill on the shoulders of two men and placed in the
before the President's chair, escorted by a deputation from the ar-
tisans; it was received with an uproar of applause from the
center of the extreme right of the benches, and from t
throngs of blouses in the galleries. The tumult having,
length, subsided, the order of the day was announced to be thd
discussion of the bill introduced by M. Daittes, having for i
purpose the general amelioration of the condition of the indus-
trial classes in the Kingdom ; and M. Dantes was himself an-
nounced to be the first on the list to occupy the tribune,
deep murmur of anticipation ran around the vast hall at thi
announcement. The multitudes in the galleries leaned forward
to gain a better view of this idol, and to catch every syllable
ibat might fall from his lips ; and every eye among the members
was turned to the seat of M. Dantes, on the centre right of
the benches.
A tall figure in black, with a white cravat, rose and advancctl
to the tribune slowly, amid a stillness as hushed and breathless
as the prior excitement had been noisy. In age, M. Dantes
seemed about fifty or fifty-five. His form was slight and hie
movements were graceful and dignified, His face was livid and
as calm as marble; but fur the large and eloquent ej-e, dark a
night, one might have thought that broad white brow, ths
massive chin, those firmly compressed lips and that colorlesi
muath were those of a statue. Yet in the furrows of thd
EDMOND DANTES, DEPUTY FROM MARSEILLES. 45
Ebrehead and the deep lines of that face could be read the
Kord of thought and suffering. The busy plowshare had turned
) the deep graves of departed passions. No one could gaze or
ren glance at that face and not perceive at once that it was
the visage of a man of many sorrows yet of a man proud,
calm, self-possessed, self-poised and indomitable. His hair, which
had been raven black, now rested in thin waves around his ex-
pansive forehead and was sprinkled with gray, while his in-
tellectual countenance wore that expression of weariness and
melancholy which illness, deep study and grief invariably trace.
Mounting the steps of the tribune with slow and deliberate
tread, he drew up his tall figure, and resting his left hand, which
grasped a roll of papers, upon the marble slab, glanced around
on the lurbulent billows of upturned and excited faces, as if
at a loss how to address them. Having read the bill, after the
I prefatory remarks, he began by laying down the platform
fllich he proposed ocmpying in its advocacy and support, con-
Sting, of course, of abstract, self-evident propositions, which
e could have the hardihood to gainsay, yet, when once ad-
iticd, the deiluctions inevitably flowing therefrom none could
The propositions seemed safe and indisputable, but the
tions evolved from those propostions were as frightful
^ legitimist as they were delightful to the liberal. That
nan is born the heir to the same natural rights that each
1, alike and equally with all others, has a birthright of which
inoi be divested and of which he canuot divest himself, to
act. to think and to pursue happiness wherever he can find it
without infringement on the rights of his fellow beings none
were disposed to deny. That each human animai, as each
animal of inferior grade, has, also, the right of subsistence,
drained from the bosom of the earth, the great mother of us all,
which without his fore-kiiowledge or wish gave him being,
.eeined, also, indisputable. But when from these propositions
were deduced ihat crime is rather the result of misery than
depravity, and that the office of government is more to pre-
vent crime by creating happiness than to punish it by creating
misery, and that for the natural righis resigned by the individ-
ual in entering into and upholding the social system human
aoveninient is bound to afford employment and sub.sistence
W ach of its members, that labor and its produce should be
Ipartnership. that competition should be aboWsVied, B.tt4 -wo-t^
I L :-,Q00^W ]
4rt EDMOND DANTES.
and wages so distributed by the State as to equalize the condi-
tion of each individual in the comniunity, and, finally, that the
claims of labor arc not satisfied by wages, but the workman
i-i entitled to a proprietary share in the capital which employs
him, inasmuch as all the woes and miseries of the laborer arise
exclusively from the competition for work when these deduc-
tions were advanced the opulent and the conservative started
back in terror and dismay. Distribution of property, universal
plunder, havoc, blood-shed, sans culottism, a red republic and the
ghastly shapes of another Reign of Terror rose in frightful
vividness before the fancy. As the speaker proceeded to illus-
trsle and sustain his positions, which were those of the Com'
munist. Socialist, Fourierist, call them which we may, and poured
forth a fiery flood of persuasion, invective, denunciation and
shouts of applause, mingled with cries of rage and dismay, rose
from all quarters of the hall. Unmoved and undaunted, that
marble man, livid as a spectre, his dark eyes blazing, his thin
and writhing lip flecked with foam, his tall form swaying to
and fro, rising, bending now thrown back, then leaning over
the marble bar of the tribune continued to pour forth his
scathing sarcasm, his crushing invective, his eloquent persuasion
and his unanswerable argument in tones, now soft and tuneful
as a silvery bell, then sad and pitiful as an evening zephyr, then
clear, high and sonorous as a clarion, then hoarse and deep
as the thunder, for a period of four hours, unbroken and con-
tinuous, without slop or stay.
The effect of this speech, as the orator, pale, exhausted, shat-
tered, unstrung, with nerves like the torn cordage of a ship
that has outridden the tempest, descended from the tribune,
baflles all description. Fearful of its influence, the Minister of
Foreign Affairs at once arose, and in order to divert the at-
tention of the Chamber asked leave to lay before it the late
dispatches from the seat of war, setting forth the glorious
triumphs of the French arms in Algeria. This intelligence,
which, at any other time, would have been received with rap-
turous enthusiasm, was listened to under the influence of a
counter-irritant already at work, with comparative calmness,
and its only effect was to cause a postponement of the vote on
the laborers' bill upon the plea of the lateness of the hour,
although not without strenuous opposition from the extreme
right. The rejoicing of the galleries at the triumph of their
CHAPTER VI.
THE MYSTERy THICKENS. 47
|tianipion and iheir fierce applause knew no bounds at the
of the silling, and their idol escaped being borne in
9|is chair to his lodgings only by gliding through a private exit
I the hall to the first carriage he could find.
" What think you ? " cried Beauchamp, triumphantly, to the
inisterial Secretary, as they were pressed together for an
Slant by the excited throng on the steps as they left the
' " Think, Monsieur ! " was the bitter rejoinder of the Sec-
retary, whose agitation completely overcame his habitual and
constitutional self-possession, " I think Paris is on the eve of
another Reign ot Terror!"
^L Beauchamp laughed, and the friends were drawn apart by
^BSie. conflicting billows of the crowd.
^^B M. Dantes' wonderful speech was the principal topic of con-
^^^wsation in every quarter of Paris, exciting comment of the
most animated description. Of course, the workmen and their
friends were delighted with it, and could not find words strong
enough to adequately express their enthusiastic admiration
for the gifted orators. Those belonging to the Government
party, on the other hand, denounced the speaker as a demagogue
and the speech as in the highest degree incendiary and dan-
gerous. Strange to relate, whoever spoke of the oration al-
ways mentioned the new play, " The Laborer of Lyons," attrib-
uting its authorship to the mysterious Deputy from Marseilles,
and (lie drama received cordial endorsement or scathing een-
stire, according to the political opinions of those who alluded
For these reasons curiosity in regard to ^T. Dantes ran higher
than ever, but instead of decreasing as he became more promi-
nent, the mystery surrounding him seemed only to thicken.
MeverthclesB, the Deputy was the lion of the hour, or rather
would have been, had he permitted bimsetf to be lioniied, but
persistently declined to do, holding aloof iTOia %qu^
K
,Gi.)e)y
48 EDMOND DANTES.
and mingling with none save his political associates, though
even to them he was a problem they could not solve; they,
however, recognized in him a powerful coadjutor, and with
that were forced to be content
" The Hall of the Cbauber of Deputies was last evening
thronged to overflowing. It had been understood that M.
Dantes was to advocate the People's Bill, and, as usual, it
had but to be known that this distinguished orator was to
occupy the tribune to draw out all classes of citizens. Nor
was the vast multitude disappointed. A more powerful speech
has never been heard within those walls. More than four
hours was the audience enchained by the matchless eloquence
of this remarkable man, which was received with thunders of
applause. A report of this speech will be found under the
appropriate head."
"The New Play entitled, 'The Laborer of Lyons,* recently
produced at the Theatre Frangais with triumphant success,
and which caused such a deep and universal sensation, is re-
peated to-night. There is reason to anticipate that the author,
who is supposed to be a celebrated orator of the opposition,
may be induced to comply with the call, which will be again
renewed, to avow himself."
Such were tvio paragraphs which the following morning ap-
peared in Bcauchamp's journal, and similar notices of both
speech and drama were published in every other opposition
sheet in Paris. In the Ministerial organ, on the contrary, and
in all the papers of like political bias, appeared the following
and si-nilar paragraphs: .
"The Speech of M. Dantes, last evening, in the Chamber
of Deputies, was one of the most dangerous diatribes to which
we ever listened dangerous for the insidious and sophistical
principles it advanced, and the almost fiend-like eloquence with
which they were urged. Where are these things to stop? At
what terrible catastrophe do these men aim? What crisis do
they contemplate i "
"The New Drama at the Theatre Fran^ais, called 'The
T,Google
THE MySTERY THICKENS. 49
!,aborer of Lyons," which is to-night to be repeated, is cal-
inlaied atid seems to have been designed by its reckless author
to produce the very worst effects among the laboring classes.
We deeply regret thai it has been suffered by the censors to be
brought out."
t[ The multitude called forth by paragraphs like these to wit-
ness the new play was, of course, immense. Long before the
time for the curtain to rise the vast edifice was crowded to
its utmost capacity with an eager and enthusiastic assemblage.
N'ot only were the galleries, parquette and lobbies filled with
blouses, but the boxes were glittering with a perfect galaxy
of fashion, loveliness and rank. Conspicuous in the orchestra
stalls were the three friends the Secretary, the journalist and
the Deputy. In a small and private loge in the second tier,
concealed from all eyes by its light curtain of green silk, and
its position, but himself viewing everything upon the stage
or in the house, sat the author of the play, calmly awaiting
the rising of the curtain.
The performance at length began, and the piece proceeded
to its termination, amid thunders of applause, which, as the
curtain finally descended on the last scene of the last act, be-
came perfectly deafening, accompanied by cries for the author.
But no author appeared behind the footlights or in the pro-
scenium box ; and, at last, the uproar becoming redoubled, the
manager came forward, and, in the author's behalf, tendered
grateful acknowledgments for the unprecedented favor, even
by a Parisian audience, with which the production had been
received, but, at the same time, entreated the additional favor
that they would grant the author's request, and permit his name,
for the present, to remain unknown. He would, however, ven-
ture to reveal this much, that the author was a distinguished
friend of the people. The earthquake of applause which suc-
ceeded this announcement 'was almost frightful, and while the
Gcene was at its height, the three friends with great difficulty
managed to extricate themselves from the multitude which
wedged up the lobbies, and to make their escape.
friend of the people ! " cried Dcbray, bitterly, as his
Kipe, containing himself and companion, drove off to Very's.
From such friends let the [leople be saved, and they may save
mselves from their foes."
sdbyGjJO'
;^
60 EDMOND DANTES.
"Aad the play, what think you of that?" cried Beauchamp.
"That it is a most able and abominable production, emineatly
calculated to cause exactly the evils which we have this night
perceived to excite and rouse the worst passions of the mob,
and render the masses dissatisfied with their inevitable and
irredeemable iot, and as dangerous as wild beasts to ali whose
lot is more favored."
. " Man has rights as man, and men in masses have fights,
and one of those rights is to know actually what those rights
are," said Beauchamp. " The most melancholy feature in the
oppression of man is his ignorance that he is oppressed. En-
lighten him as to those rights, elevate his mind to appreciate
and value them, and then counsel him firmly and resolutely
to demand those rights, and quietly and wisely to obtain them."
"Ayet but will he obey such counsel?" exclaimed Chateau-
Renaud. " Will not the result of such enlightenment and ex-
citement prove, as it ever has proved, anarchy, revolution,
guilt, blood? Vibo shall restrain the monster once tashed into
madness?"
" But you can surely perceive no such design in this play,
and no such effect," rejoined Beauchamp.
"In the abstract," replied the Count, "this production is un-
exceptional most beautiful, yes most powerful. How it could
have been the work of an unpracticed pen, embodying as it
does passages of which the first dramatists of the romantic
school might be proud, I cannot imagine. Besides, there seems
familiar acquaintance with stage effect and the way in which
it is produced. But that might have been, and probably was,
the result of some professional player's suggestions."
" And, then, the profound knowledge of the human heart
evinced its passions, motives and principles of action," added
the journahst. " There seems an individuality, a personality
in the production, which compels the idea that the author is
himself the hero, that he has himself experienced the evils
he so vividly portrays, that the drama is at once the effusion
of his own heart and the embodiment of his own history. Can
that man be M. Dantes?"
" If it be he," cried the Secretary, " there is more reason
than ever to call him the most dangerous man in Paris, What
with his speeches in the Chamber and his plays at the theatre,
all tending to one most unrighteous end, and alt aitning to
,Googlc
THE MYSTERY THICKENS. 51
inflame such an explosive mass as the workmen of Paris, he
may be regarded as little less thao the very agent of the
fiend to accomplish havoc on earth ! "
' Yet, strange to say, my dear Secretary," said the journalist,
laughing, " you have not yet estimated the tithe of this man's
influence for good, or, as you think, for evil. Rumor pro-
claims him to be as immensely opulent as appearances would
indicate him to be impoverished. That his whole soul, as you
sav, is devoted to the people, with all his wonderful powers
of mind and person, is undoubted. That he has availed himself
of that grand lever, the press, to accomplish his purposes, be
they good or bad, seems equally certain. 'La Reforme,' the
new daily, is undoubtedly under his control, if not sustained
by h;s pen and his purse, for it has a wider circulation than
all the other Parisian papers put together. It goes everywhere
it seeks the alleys, not the boulevards, finds its way to the
threshold of all, whether paid for or not."
"Ah!" cried Debray, in great agitation. "Is it so?"
" And, then, not only is the public press subsidized by this
man, if report is not even falser than usual, but a whole array
of pamphleteers, journalists, litterateurs and students await
his bidding, as well as some of the most distinguished novel-
ists and dramatists of the nation and age ! "
"My God!" exclaimed the Count. "Can this be so?"
" Nay nay," replied Beauchamp, " I make no assertions, I
merely retail rumors. But what cannot uncounted wealth
achieve, directed by genius and intelligence?"
" But is this man actually so wealthy ? " asked Debray, pale
with agitation. " His manners, dress, equipage, residence and
mode of life would indicate just the reverse."
" I know not no one knows," said Beauchamp. " It is only
known to myself and to a few others that he dwells in the
mansion No. 27 Rue du H elder, formerly the residence of
the Count de Morcerf, and that his private apartment is that
pavilion at the corner of the court, where at halt-past ten, on
the morning of the 21st of May, 1838, we breakfasted with
our amiable friend Albert, and were met by that remarkable
man, the Count of Monle-Cristo."
" I remember that morning well," said Chateau-Renaud.
" Everything, it is said, remains in that once splendid man-
on precisely as when it was deserted by the Countess and her
B2 EDMOND DANTES.
son, at the time of the suicide of the Count everything ex-
cept that glorious picture of the Catalan fisherman by Leopold
Robert, in Albert's exquisite chamber, which alone he took
with him.'
" It is strange that a man so opulent as you represent M.
Dantes to be, should adopt his magnificence at second hand."
observed Dcbray, coolly.
" But I do not represent him as opulent, my dear Lucien ;
and he certainly is the last man either to invent magnificence
or to adopt it Why, be is as plain in manners and mode as
SL Simon himself. His dress you have seen; as to equipage
his only conveyance is a public fiacre; as to diet, household
arrangements and everything else of a personal nature, noth-
ing can be more republican and less epicurean than is wit-
nessed at his house. His study, Albert de Morcerf's pavilion,
is said to be the only sumptuous apartment in the whole es-
tablishment; and that sumptuousness is of a character en-
tirely literary and practical. His retinue consists of three
servants, called Baptistin, Bertuccio and Ali, the latter being a
Nubian, although fame gives him a perfect army of servitors
prompt to execute his bidding. But I will not indulge your
skeptical and sarcastic nature, Lucien, with a detail of all
that rumor says of this wonderful man. I will only say that
all he is, and has or hopes for seems devoted to one single
object the welfare of his race."
"Has he a wife?" asked Debray.
" He is a widower, with two children, a young girl, called
Zuleika, and a youthful son, called Esperance. But my ac-
quaintance with him is wholly of a public character. I have
never been in his house, and very few there are who have been.
But here we are."
And the coupe stopped at Very's.
CHAPTER Vn.
Even in the immediate vicinity of the Morcerf mansion,
JVa 27 Rue du Helder, no one was aware that its new tenant
DANTES ANQ HIS DAUGHTER. 93
was M. Daiites, the famous Deputy from Marseilles. AH the
neighbors knew was that the palatial edifice had been pur-
chased by a stranger, who said he was acting for his master,
a man of great wealth lately arrived from the east. No repairs
or alterations had been made, while the Morcerf furniture was
bought with the house, the only new articles making their
appearance being several huge bookcases and a number of large
boxes evidently containing books, together with a host of
traveling trunks filled, as was to be presumed, with the ward-
robe of the family. The servants took possession during the
day and were duly noted, but how or when the proprietor came
could not be ascertained, while after his installation glimpses
of him were exceedingly rare.
Occasionally, however, a beautiful girl, with an oriental look
notwithstanding her tasteful and elegant Parisian attire,
would be seen for a moment at the windows, but she in-
variably vanished on realizing that she was observed. Some-
times a handsome young man stood at her side, but he also
seemed anxious to avoid the scrutiny of the curious, although he
evinced less timidity than his companion, always withdrawing
slowly and with great deliberation.
It was after midnight. On the second floor of the pavilion
once inhabited by the Viscount Albert de Morcerf was now
a spacious library. The walls were lined with tail book-shelves,
mounting to the lofty ceiling, and groaning under ponderous
piles of volumes, from the huge black letter folio of the Middle
Ages to the lightest duodecimo of the day; while in all parts
of the chamber, on the floor, tables and chairs, and in the '
deep embrasures of the windows, were scattered huge masses
of papers, pamphlets, manuscripts and charts. Over the book-
cases stood marble busts of Danton, Mirabeau, Napoleon, Ar-
tnand Carrel, the Due de St. Simon and other great men whose
names are identified with France; between the windows look-
ing out on the garden, shrouded in shrubs and creeping plants,
hung a full-length and magnificent picture bf Fourier. Near
the center of the apartment stood a vast table covered with
books, papers, manuscripts and writing materials, beside
which stood one of those sombre and massive arm-chairs, on
the possession of which the former proprietor had so felicitated
himself, bearing on a carved shield the fleur-de-lis of the
Loovre, and in whose sumptuous and antique embrace had, pT-
54 EDMOND DANTES.
baps, reposed a Richelieu, a Mazarin or a Sully. The win-
dows were hung with heavy tapestry of ancient pattern and
rich dye, and also the walls, save where covered with books. A
soft and summery atmosphere, the warmth of which emanated
from concealed furnaces, neutralized the chill of an autumnal
uight, and the mellow chiaro-oscuro of a vast astral diffused
its lunar effulgence on all around.
Within this chamber was a man, who, with arms crossed
upon his bosom and eyes fastened in profound and seemingly
mournful contemplation upon the floor, slowly paced from one
extremity of the spacious apartment to the other.
This man was M. Dantes, representative of Marseilles in
the French Chamber of Deputies.
" At last, at last," he murmured, " the avenging Nemesis
ceases to gnaw I At length the angel Peace begins to smile !
The tempest, which, for nearly thirty years, has raved and
swelled in my heart, begins to lull ! At length I commence
to live at length I realize and pursue life's true end. Let me
reflect," he continued, after a pause, "let me review the past.
The past ! alas ! my past is a painful blank ! At twenty, from
the very marriage -feast, from the side of her whom more than
life I loved, I was torn by the envy of one man and the jealousy
of another, and then, by the ambition of a third, to whom nothing
was crime if it but ministered to that unhallowed impulse, I
was plunged into a dungeon, whose counterpart only the vaults
of hell can furnish. For fourteen long years I was the tenant
of a sombre tomb. The agony, the despair of those awful
years oh ! God ! oh ! God ! " and he shuddered and clasped
his hands over his head as if to crush the recollection.
After a pause he resumed : " And then those daily vows
of vengeance ! oh I vain and impotent vows as then they
seemed I vows of awful agony, of fiendish retribution, though
at that time I knew not all ! I knew not that a venerable father
pined and died of starvation through the wrong done to me !
1 knew not that the woman I loved had become the bride of
my destroyer! Yet those vows, awful and blasphemous as
they were, those vows of vengeance have been terribly, dread-
fillly fulfilled ! As the destroying angel of God's retributive provi-
dence, I was endowed with superhuman powers to walk the
earth, to administer His justice and to execute His decrees. For
fourteen years was that vengeance prepared, yet delayed. At
DANTES AND HIS DAUGHTER. 65
last, it fell it fell. All who had wronged me met their dread-
ful doom. Ambition was changed to madness. Avarice was
tortured with bankruptcy. Falsehood sought refuge in self-de-
struction; and all all all even the meanest of those who had
contributed to blight my life perished miserably at my will !
And did the guilty suffer alone? Alas! impious, remorseless,
horrible revenge I The innocent and the criminal suffered alike.
A might approaching omnipotence was vouchsafed me, but no
power of omniscience to direct my hand or stay its effects.
Blind and mad I knew not what I did. Those I most loved
fell beneath the blow which crushed those I most abhorred, and
shared the same fate. The terrible agencies I had summoned
as my slaves became my masters. The fiends which, as ministers
of God's justice, garbed in the guise of angels of light, I had,
by hideous necromancy, evoked to aid me in righteous retribu-
tion, proved the dark demons of hell and derided all orders
to accomplish my bidding. The awful engines I had set in
motion I found myself powerless to arrest or control Effects
ceased not with the causes in which they had their origiti. The
stroke of vengeance, aimed at foes, recoiled on friends re-
coiled on myself. And when I fain would stop, when I would
arrest the awful havoc which my will had commenced, the dark
ministers I had called up howled in my ears, ' On ! on I on ! ven-
geance is thine 1 vengeance is thine!' They mocked my terror
and laughed at my apprehensions.
" At last there seemed a pause. Fate appeared to have done
her worst, to have executed her decrees. The Wind agencies of
vengeance blasted no more, because there seemed no more to
blast. The misery I had caused I strove to alleviate, 'he in-
nocent hearts I had crushed I endeavored to heal ; rejoicing in
the joy I had created and the affection I gratified, once more
I loved loved, but, oh I not as I first had loved not with that
deep, adoring, delirious passion of my youth, and yet with a
subdued, fraternal feeling I loved; in the calm and sweet se-
clusion of a favored clime, parted from the world with all its
miseries and its crimes, environed by all that man or nature could
contribute to human bliss, I began to dream of happiness, in the
happiness I had created. But, alas ! I forgot that man's happiness
lies not in his own hand, but in the hand of his Maker. I
forgot that an omniscient eye pursued me, that a blasphemed
and omnipotent Power was over me. The blow paused hovered
so EDMOND DANTES.
fell, not upon me, not on the guilty, but again it fell on the
innocent; and she, who was my only hope, my beloved Hay-
ilee, my wife, was snatched from my heart, ruthlessly murdered
liy that liend, Benedetto ! "
The unhappy man pressed bis hand to his forehead, and for
some lime paced the chamber in silence; then, approaching a
small alcove at one extremity of the apartment, he raised the
heavy and sumptuous hangings and revealed a small silver casket
of exquisite workmanship and appointments, that sparkled as
the mellow light poured in upon it. M. Dantes knelt beside the
elKny table on which this casket rested, and for some moments
seemed absorbed in prayer ; then, rising and taking the caskel,
in his bands, he touched a spring, when the lid flew open,
disclosing a miniature portrait of Haydee, set in a frame of
gold, ornamented with flashing diamonds and emeralds; he
gazed long and lovingly at this portrait, that seemed designed
to show how exquisitely fair God's creatures may be, after
which he kissed it reverently, closed the casket, restored it
to the table, and slowly dropped the hangings to their place.
Resuming his walk, he said, mournfully ; " But the deepest wound
will close; the heaviest grief, the bitterest woe, becomes as-
suaged. Time, the comforter, soothes and consoles. From this
stroke of bereavement I at length awoke, and, at the same mo-
ment, awoke to the conviction that my whole past had been an
error; that my life had been a lie; that the years which had
succeeded my imprisonment had been more utterly lost than
those passed within my dungeon itself ; and there came to me
the conviction that time, talent, power and wealth had been
worse than wasted that the wondrous riches, undreamed of
save in the wildest flights of oriental fiction, and by a miracle
bestowed upon me, were designed for nobler, holier purposes
than to subserve a fiendish and blasphemous vengeance for even
unutterable wrongs, or to minister to the gratification of pride,
and the satisfaction of selfish tastes and appetites, however re-
fined and sublimated.
" I looked around me the world was full of misery and
the same disposition which had plunged me into a dungeon was
crushing the hearts and hopes of millions of my race. My bosom
softened by bereavement yearned toward my suffering fellows, and
the path of duty, peace and happiness seemed open to my deso-
late and despairing heart, Resolution followed conviction ; the
DANTES AND HIS DAUGHTER.
5T
world was my field ; liberty, equality and fraternity were my
objects.. Not France alone, with her miserable millions, but
Russia with her serfs, Poland with her wrongs, the enslaved
Italians, the oppressed German, the starving son o Erin, the
squalid operative of England, the priest-ridden slave of Jesuit
Spain, and the oppressed but free-born Switzer. Great men and
Rood men I found had already, with superhuman skill, con-
structed a system, a machine for the amelioration of man-
kind's condition, which needed only the co-operation of bound-
less wealth to set it in motion. That wealth was mine ! The
common house for the laborer, the asylum for the insane, for
the orphan, the Magdalen, the de^tiitite, the sick, the friendless,
the deserted, the bereaved, or the asylum for the v
s of other
1 misery, ignorance c
uncounted wealth intrusted tc
gathered the mighliest minds i
and the best hearts; and if but
P
for the depravity which orig-
fate all these my riches could
:oinplishnient of this design, the
I my stewardship has already
[1 every department of intellect,
a few years are vouchsafed us
to carry out the system we have adopted, all Europe, despite
her throned and sceptred tyrants, impiously claiming the right
to oppress by the will of God, shall be free ! Silently but
surely, the principle of human liberty is ceaselessly at work,
undermining thrones and overthrowing dynasties. The hush
ihat precedes the tornado even now broods over Europe ; na-
tions slumber the heavy sleep thai preludes the earthquake. The
hour of revolution Is at hand Kif social regeneration, disen-
thrallment, redemption, over all the world. In every capital of
Europe the mine is prepared the traiij laid to be lighted, and
from this solitary chamber the free thought on the lightning's
pinion flies to Vienna, St. Petersburg, Rome, Madrid, Berlin,
London, over mountain and plain over sea and land through
the forest wilderness and the thronged city ; taken up by the
press, it makes thrones totter and tyrants tremble tremble at
an influence which emanates they know not whence and con-
tcmjilates a purpose they know not what an influence whose
rsiery they arc impotent to penetrate, and whose shadowy but
[nl right they are powerless to resist ! "
Al that instant the silvery tinkle of a beil was heard at the
'taUe, and a low and continuous whizzing as ol t\oiiv(rf*. *.
The Deputy advanced to t\\c \.ab\e, "Tcve. ^e?.-
,G(-)eit^le
E8 EDMOND DANT^S,
ister of the electric telegraph like a living thing was unfolding
the secrets of events at that moment transpiring at the furthest
extremity of the Kingdom. Eagerly seizing the slip of paper
which was gliding through the machine, he glanced over the
cabalistic cipher there traced. "Lyons Marseilles Rome
Algeria," he murmured. " All goes well." And while the won-
derful register, like a thing of life, still whizzed, clicked and
delivered its magic scroll, covered with characters unintelligible
to all but him for whose eye they were designed, he touched
a spring, and a row of ivory keys resembling those of a piano-
forte was revealed. Then rapidly touching them with the fingers
of one band, while he held up before him the endless slip of
paper in the other as it was evolved, he transferred its caba-
listic contents, character by character, to their distant destination.
And when the day dawned on Paris, Berlin, Vienna and
Madrid, the intelligence thus concentrated, and thus distributed
in that solitary chamber, was laid by the press before a hun-
dred thousand eyes, in a, language which each could comprehend,
for in every capital of Europe unbounded wealth had estab-
lished a press which groaned in unceasing parturition for human
rights, causing princes to tremble and ministers to wonder and
grow pale; over each press, thus set in motion as if literally
by an electric touch a thousand miles away, presided men of the
greatest powers and most varied attainments which philan-
trophy or covetousness could enlist, while the result of their
labors was sown broadcast among the poorest and humblest,
without price or compensation, pouring light upon their darkened
understandings and giving them knowledge of their rights.
Nor was the newspaper press alone active. The feuillelon
press was also at work; And magazines, reviews, patnphlets,
whole libraries of volumes, were flung like Sibylline leaves on
the four winds of heaven. Fiction, the drama, religion, art, lit-
erature, moral and mechanical science all departments of in-
tellect silently, unseen, yet surely exerted their omnipotent in-
fluence for the attainment of one single glorious end the happi-
ness, rights, freedom of man; all this was under the guidance
of one powerful mind and benevolent heart, wielding the re-
sistless necromancy of countless and exhaustless treasure I Not
a point in all Europe whence influence could radiate and be dis-
tributed was there at which this man, in one brief year, had
not set ia motion the press and th telegraph, those tremendous
^. lore
DANTES AND HIS DAUGHTER. 59
of liie age to move the world, and all the more power-
fully to move it because oft unseen. Not a court was there
of emperor or prince, czar or kaiser, king, duke or potentate
in which dwelt not his emissary, who suspected, least of all,
knew everything that occurred, and, on the lightning's wing,
dispatched it to its destination, so that the most important de-
crees of the cabinet-council of Vienna were exposed to the
whole world by the Parisian press long before they had been
commimicated by Metternich to his sovereign. And thus, often,
the ruler first learned the purposes of the Minister. Not a city
or village was there in all Europe which nourished not in its
bosom the germ of reform and revolution, while the great prin-
ciple of association combined, embodied, and concentrated into
a focus energies and iniluEnces which would otherwise have
proved comparatively powerless.
The click and bu?z of the register ceased the engine had
revealed its secret the shadowy tale had been caught up as it
fell and given to the press of all Europe, thence to be laid be-
lore men's minds.
Exhausted by the severe mental toil, and by the lateness of the
ir, the Deputy s^nk back into his arm-chair and clasped his
Glorious, omnipotent science 1 " he exclaimed in low and
trembling, yet eager and enthusiastic tones. " Wealth must yield
in power to thee, for what wealth can rival thy achievements
or secure thy results ? Thou hast girt the earth with web-
worlt, forced the lightning to syllable the unspoken thought and
made man's mind ubiquitous like God's; ere long, thou wilt
have knit together with thy magic spells a world of mankind
into one vast brotherhood ! "
M. Dant^s ceased and, closing his eyes wearily, continued to
think over the possibilities of the future. As he sat there mo-
tionless and seemingly asleep, a light footfall was heard in the
apartment and his daughter stood before him, Zuleika was
now sixteen, tall and matured beyond her years ; she greatly re-
sembled her dead mother, Haydee, the beautiful Greek, and the
half-oriental costume she wore helped to render the resem-
blance still more striking; her abundant hair was the hue of
the raven's wing, her feet and hands were those of a fairy,
while her large and expressive eyes flashed like diamonds, and
bcr parted lips, as red as rubies, disclosed perfect teeth oE
t whiteness of pearls. A shade of anxiety se.tt\e.4 M^svi ^:lM
60 . EDMOND DANTES.
haDdsome countenance as she beni over her weary father. The
Deputy opened his eyes and glanced at her.
"Why are you up so late, my child?" he asked, fondly.
" I thought you were sleeping soundly long ere this."
" I was wailing for you, papa," replied Zuleika, in a low,
musical voice, that sounded like a chime of tiny bells; "1 could
not retire to my couch while you were toiling."
M. Dantes pointed to a stool ; the young girl brought it and
seated herself at his feet; he drew her to his knee, smoothing
her tresses gently and affectionately.
"So you would not desert me, darling?" he said, with a glad
" No, indeed, dear papa," answered she, nestling closer to him,
"Will you always love me as you do now, Zuleika?" asked
the father, looking down into the liquid depths of her eyes.
" Oh ! papa, what a question, what a singular question ! " said
the girl, springing to her feet, throwing her arms around his
neck, and kissing him again and again.
" But love of another kind and for another will come along
after awhile." said the Deputy sadly, "and then you will forget
your father."
Zuleika blushed and hung her head in maidenly modesty; then ,
she exclaimed:
" No, no, papa ; never will I forget you whatever may happen ! "
"Ah! my darling, you know not what you are saying; it is
only natural for a woman to cast her father aside and cleave
unto her husband."
" But, papa, I have not even a lover yet, and, besides, I am
not a woman ; I am merely a little girl and your own, true,
loving daughter."
"Yes, yes, hut you must remember that last year, young as
you were then, you attracted marked attention from several
youthful Romans of the best families in the Eternal City, and
that one of them, the Viscount Giovanni Massetti, went so far as
to ask me for your hand."
At the mention of Massetti's name the blush upon Zulcika's
cheek deepened. She trembled slightly, but said nothing; her
heart fluttered painfully, but the pain was not altogether dis-
agreeable. The young Viscount was evidently not unpleasing
Af. Dantes resumed, looking at her fixedly the while:
kupon I
"Co
DANTES AND HIS DAUGHTER. 61
" My daughter, as you were then attending the convent school
I felt it my duty to deny Giovanni Massetti's soHcitation, nay,
his ardent, impetuous prayer, hut I did not deprive him oE all
hope; I gave him permission to urge his suit with you person-
ally after a year from that time had elapsed. Did I do right?"
Zuleika maintained silence, but hlushed and trembled more
than ever, while her heart fluttered so that she placed her hand
. upon her breast to still iL
" Come, come, my daughter, answer me," said the Deputy,
idly, "did I do right? Tell me what your little heart says."
"I do not know, oh ! I do not know ! " cried Zuleika, burst-
ing into tears.
" There, there now." said her father, soothingly ; " I did not
mean either to frighten or wound you. If the Viscount is
displeasing lo you 1 will answer his letter to-morrow and tell
s gently as possible that he has no hope of winning your
Md."
" What I have you received a letter from Giovanni ? " ex-
claimed Zuleika, with sudden interest, her tears vanishing in-
stantly and her pretty face brightening up.
" Ho ! ho ! " said M. Dantes to himself, " Mademoiselle has
waked up in earnest now." Then he added aloud : " Yes, one
came this afternoon. The Viscount is in Paris, and has claimed
the privilege T accorded him a year ago, provided you inter-
posed no objection. However, the matter can speedily be settled.
Young Massetli is a man of honor, and will not tor an instant
think of troubling with his attentions a lady to whom they
cannot prove acceptable."
"Oh! papa, papa, don't tell him that; he wouldn't come here
it you did; besides, did did did I ever tell you that Giovanni's
attentions would prove unacceptable to me?"
" No, not in so many words," answered M. Dames, archly,
"but I inferred as much from your manner and tears just now.
So I am to understand that you do not want me to reply to the
Viscount's letter, am I ? "
^^K " Oil 1 yes, I want you to reply to his letter, but but "
^^V" But what, darling?"
^^V" 1 do not wish you to tell him there is no hope ! "
^^B" You think there is hope, then ? "
^B* I-l am afraid so. dear papa!"
,,t,.?dbyGooylt'
62 EDMOND DANTES.
" Yet a moment ago you told me you had no lover, and were
merely a little girl ! "
" I did not know then that Giovanni was in Paris, and I I
thought he had forgotten all about me."
M. Dantes smiled as he said:
" That makes all the ditiFerence in the world, doesn't it, Made-
moiselle?"
" Yes," answered Zuleika, innocently ; then she added in a
tone of great earnestness : " Write to Giovanni in the morn-
ing, and and tell him I shall be delighted to see him."
" I will write and inform him that, so far as I have been
able to discover, my daughter does not object to receiving a
visit from him."
"Oh I that would be too cold and formal, and Giovanni is
such an old friend."
" Well, well," said M. Dantes, " 1 will so frame my reply as
to give entire satisfaction both to you and him. Now, my
child, kiss me and retire to your couch, for it is very, very late."
Zuleika embraced her father and kissed him repeatedly ; then,
with beaming eyes and a countenance overflowing with happi-
ness she ran lightly from the apartment.
As she tripped joyously away, M. Dantes arose from his
arm-chair and gazed after her with a look of the utmost sad-
"Oh! my daughter, my daughter," he murmured, "soon will
you also quit me, and then I shall be alone, indeed ! True,
Esperance will remain, but, generous, manly and heroic as he
is, he can never fill the void Zuleika will leave. Oh ! Haydee,
Haydee, my beloved wife, why were you torn so ruthlessly
from your husband's heart I "
Zuleika's dreams that night were rose-hued and delicious, and
in all of them the central figure was the youthful Roman
Viscount.
When day dawned M. Dantes was still pacing his library.
CHAPTER VIII.
A VAST PRINTING HOUSE.
somewhat famous in Paris is the Rue Lepelletier, fa-
or its length, for its breadth, for the splendiil edifices
A VAST PRINTING HOUSE. 63
il exhibits, or for the scenes and events it has witnessed, but
famous for the exploiis beheld by its neighbors, and the mag-
nificent structures by them displayed. Not that the Rue Le-
pelleticr can boast no fine edifices, for the grand opera-house
would give the loud lie to such an assertion. And then there
is the Foreign Office near by, the Hotel of the Minister o
Foreign Affairs at the corner of the Boulevard and the Rue des
Capucincs, and other noted places.
But there is one structure on the Rue LepcUetier not very
noticeable save for its immense size and its ancient and dingy
aspect, which has witnessed more scenes and events, and is more
important than all its more splendid neighbors put together.
This edifice is of brick, five stories in height, and, as has
been intimated, is time stained, storm -stained, smoke- stained
and stained, it would seem, by all other conceivable causes of
stain, so begrimed and dingy, yet so venerable and imposing,
This vast and ancient pile can be said to represent no order
ot architecture. Architectural elegance appears not to have
been thought of when it was designed, and yet the fagade of
the old building seems to bear the same relation to the building
itself as the face of an old man bears to his body, and that
face is full of character, as are the faces of some men sombre,
sedate, serious, almost sinister in aspect. This old face, too,
seemed full of apertures, through which unceasing and sleep-
less espionage could be kept up on the good citizens of the good
uOty of Paris. Doors, and especially windows, numberless,
tned and looked upon the street, and on a cu! de sac at one
Ipd of the edifice.
One of the doors opening on the cul de sac, at its further
extremity, was broad, low, dark and sombre; like the gates of
hell, as portrayed by the English bard, it " stood open night and
day." If you entered this door and advanced, you would im-
mediately find yourself ascending a narrow, gloomy and winding
flight of stairs. Having with difficulty groped your way to
the top, without having broken your neck, by having first
reached the point from which you started, to wit, the bottom;
or your shins, by stumbling against the steps having, I say,
accomplished the ascent to the first landing, your further pas-
sage is effectually slopped by a massive door, which resists
^Jpt youf efforts to open it; and, as you are cgntemclalins tha
MOty c
bd of
r^One
n,r,l-Pd hvGoO'
gk_
6* EDMOND DANTES.
dangerous descent which you now think you are immediately
and inevitably forced to make, an ivory belt-handle f^ainst the
wall, beside the door, arrests your attention, with the words
around it, which, with difficulty, you decipher by the dim light,
' Editor's Room No Admittance," followed by the encourag-
ing, but somewhat contradictory word, " Ring," which, doubt-
less, means this : " If you are a particular friend of the editor,
or have particular business with him as a journalist, ring the
bell, and perhaps you may be admitted." Supposing either of
these positions yours, you " ring the bell," and immediately you
are startled by the tinkling of a small bell in the darkness close
beside you, and the ponderous door, firm as a barricade till
then, is now opened by unseen hands by the same hand, in-
deed, and by the same action of that hand which caused the bell
to tinkle.
You enter the door, and find yourself in a corridor or pas- .
sage, long and dark, for everything in this building is dark,
and gaslight is the only light eighteen hours in the twenty-
four; you find yourself in a corridor, I say, running the en-
tire depth of the building, and bringing you back again toward
the Rue Lepelletier, which you left on entering the cul de sac,
to seek the low entrance below. As you traverse the endless
gallery, your attention is arrested by a deep hum, as of many
voices at a distance, with which the entire structure seems per-
vaded, accompanied by a heavier sound, which rises and falls
with measured stroke. This mysterious hum might have been
heard when you first approached or entered the building ; but the
silence and solitude of the corridor have caused you to notice
it now for the first time, and to wonder at its cause.
Now had you the power of those magicians, necromancers,
clairvoyants and demi-dcvils, whether of the flesh or the spirit,
who, at a glance, can gaze through massive walls and peer down
the chimneys of a great city, and who, almost without glancing
at all, can see through partitions, key-holes and iron doors, your
wonder at the cause rff these unknown sounds would instantly
cease, while it would be yet more excited by those causes them-
selves, for the vast building all around you, and through which
you are passing, and which envelops you in its ceaseless hum,
like the voice of a great citj', would seem to you nothing less
than a leviathan of life and action a Titan a Frankenstein
a mental and material giant, with its acoustic tubes, like veins
T,Google
P
oeoj
W A VAST PRINTING HOUSE. 65
nd arteries, running all over the structure, just beneath the sur-
Kce of the walls, and uniting in every apartment; with its
Hectric wires, like bundles of nerves, which, having webbed
Be whole body with network, converge into a focus-tube, and
luence pass down into the vaults, through the massive founda-
tions, and beneath the pavements of the thronged streets of the
metcopolis, and thence, rising again to the surface, branching
on distinct, diverse and solitary routes without the suburbs all
over Europe. You would see, too, the mighty heart of this Titan,
whose heavy beavings you have felt, heard and wondered at
THE PBESS in its subterranean tenement, amid smoke and flame.
The press; which, like the animal heart, receives eventually all
that the veins convey to it, and flings forth everything in modified
form through lungs and arteries. Tireless and untired in its
I, never ceasing, never resting, for as well might a. man
to live when his heart haa ceased to beat, as a printing
exist when the throbbings of its press were no longer
and as well could a man be supposed to live without
eath as a pruiting ofiice of the nineteenth century without its
lungs, the steam engine, or its breath of life, the subtle fluid
by which it is moved.
But to drop metaphor. In the basement of the building you
would find the press-room, with its steam engine, its furnaces,
its presses, its dark de mi -devils, and ghostly and ghastly gnomes
and genii groping or flitting about amid the glare and gloom,
begrimed and besmoked, seemingly at work at unhallowed yet
supernatural toil, which toil, as if a punishment for sin, like
that of Sisyphus, or the daughters of Danae in the heathen
Tartarus, was eternal. The press never stops.
On the first floor you would perceive the financial and pub-
shin g department in all its endless ramifications, with the
:aus for folding, enveloping, mailing, etc.
On the second floor but that you will shortly behold, and
ill describe itself.
On the third floor you would discover immense magazines of
material paper, ink, of every hue and quality, and type of every
known description ; and all in quantities seemingly as useless
as incalculable.
On the fourth and fifth floors you would find the composi-
tion rooms, whence fly the winged words all over the world,
topled by its whole army of compositors ; while iroKi the lani,
ftyGqgjjk'
66 EDMOND DANTES.
platoons of cases " click click click " is heard, the sole and
unceasing sound which alone in those apartments is ever suffered
to fall on the ear. If we add that the entire structure is warmed
in winter by heated a.ir, conveyed in tubes from the furnaces of
the press, our description will be complete, and we may say
such is the printing office of the nineteenth century in Paris.
How changed from that oi German Guttenberg or Elnglish
Caxton, three hundred years before 1 Such is it by daylight.
Flood every object and apartment with gaslight, and you have
the scene at night through all the night, for couriers and dis-
patches never cease to arrive and the journal issues with the
dawn and the workmen are relieved by constant and continuous
relays. Such an office gives employment to hundreds and bread
to thousands. It demands twenty editors, exclusive of their
chief, twenty reporters, exclusive of the same number in the
commercial and mercantile corps ; twenty-five clerks and bureau
agents, sixty carriers, twenty mechanicians and margers, sixty
folders, twenty pressmen, seventy correctors and compositors
and five hundred distributors, besides a numberless and nameless
army of attaches and employes too numerous to be specified
The aggregate compensation of this army is ten thousand francs
per day, the annual income is nine millions of francs, the cir-
culation is ninety thousand copies daily, and each number is
read by half a million people, and through their influence by
half a million more.
The daily tax of the Government is nine thousand francs.
The press has been called the Third Estate of France, It is
not ! Nor is it the second nor is it the first ! It combines
all three. Nay, the power of all three united equals not its
tithe; and its position its rank! royalty itself bows to the
press ! Ask the history of the past ten years. Point to the
man of power or position in the court or Stale, who owes it
not to the press ! Where is the statesman who is not, or has
not been, a journalist, or the savant, the philosopher, the philan-
thropist, the poet, the orator, the advocate, the diplomat, even
the successful soldier? The sword and the pen are emblems of
the power of France its achievements and its continuance ; Sir
Bulwer Lytton says,
"Th* ptn is mightier Ihan the sword 1 "
But I have left you, dear reader, perambulating the dim cor-
I
r A VAST PRINTING HOUSE. 87
ridor so dim that your eyes can hardly decipher, although it
is now high noon, the various signs upon the series of doors in
the wall on your left, designating the various rooms of the
editorial corps, for to the editorial department Is devoted the
second floor of this extensive edifice. The last door in this
prolonged series bears the name of the chief journalist. You
ring a bell, are bid to enter, and the apartment is before you.
' Immense windows, rising from the floor to the ceiiing, and
Opening upon a balcony, which overhangs the Rue Lepelletier,
'afford abundance of light for your eye to detect everything in
the room by day, and an immense chandelier with gas-burners
and opaque shades, pouring lorth its Sood of mellow radiance,
'would facilitate the same investigation yet more at night. Be-
neath the chandelier is spread the immense oval slab of the table.
, At it sits a man writing. Well, let him write on, at least for the
present. Beside him, pile upon pile, pile upon pile, rise papers,
wave after wave, flood upon flood, nothing but papers ; on the
floor beneath his feet, on the table and under the table, before
him, behind him, and all around him, naught but papers, papers,
rising, rising as if in wrathful might and stormy indignation, while
the very walls are lined with papers in all languages, from all
climes and governments, and of every age and dimension, depos-
huge folio volumes and arranged in huge closets, along one
whole side of the room. From the four continents, yea, and
from the islands of the sea likewise, has this vast army come.
In those tall closets extending from floor to ceiling might be
found the full files for years of every leading paper in every
part of Christendom, affording a treasury of reference, uni-
versal, unfailing, exhausiless, of knowledge of every conceivable
description, rapidly found by means of exact and copious tables
of contents.
Upon the other side of the apartment extend ranges of
shelves, from floor to ceiling, filled with ponderous tomes in
black substantial binding, seeming to belong to that class of
Standard works chiefly valuable for reference as authoritit
and bearing ample testimony in their wear and tear, and their
soiled appearance, to having been faithfully fingered. No thin,
delicate and perfumed duodecimo is there, resplendent in gold
and Russia, with costly engravings on steel, and letter-press in
gilt or hot-pressed post. N'o, the books, the table, the joumalisl
and the whole chamber hear the dark, stern, toil-soiled aspect of
---.^^UoAj
I
EDMOND DANTES.
labor, the severe air of practical utility. The only
if such they can be styled, are busts the busts of the silver-
tongued Vergniaud and a. few of his political brothers the
victim Girondins of '92 being conspicuous. Here, too, in a
prominent niche is the noble front of Armand Carrel, the brave,
the knightly, the chivalric, the true Republican, the true states-
man, the true journalist, the true man Armand Carrel, who,
with Adolphe Thiers, his associate, sat tirst in this apartment as
its chief Armand Carrei, who fell years ago before the pistol
of Emile de Girardin, a brother journalist, the founder of the
cheap press, the hero of scores of combats before and since,
yet almost unscathed by all.
Such are some of the ornaments of the chief editor's sanc-
tum. At the further extremity of the apartment, the wall is
covered with maps and diagrams, as well as charts of the promi-
nent cities and points in Europe ; and a large table beneath is
heaped with books of travel, geographical views, and histor-
ical scenes arranged with no regard to order, and seeming to lie
precisely as thrown down after having been used.
In a word, the whole room bears unmistakable evidence of
stem, practical thought. In it and about it display is every-
where scrupulously eschewed. Practical utility is the only ques-
tion of interest as touching the instruments of an editor, as of
those of a carpenter ; and the workshop of ihe journalist bears
no inconsiderable similarity to that of the artisan in more re-
spects than one. To each a tool is valuable, be that tool a
book or a chisel, only for its usefulness, and the facility and
rapidity with which it will aid the possessor to accomplish his
ends, and not for its beauty of form, or costliness of material
In one respect only was there variance from this settled cus-
tom to be perceived, and that was in that delicate mechanism
embodying the triumphs of modern science, which facilitates
transmission of thought, and which, by skillful adaptation, made
this one chamber a focus to which ideas and feeling in every
Other apartment of that vast establishment converged, and which
enabled one man, without rising from his chair, to issue his
orders to every department, from press-room to composing-
room, from foundation stone to the turrets of that tall pile.
everything being governed by the will and impulse of a single
mind. Indeed, lo such an extent is labor-saving carried in the
ARMAND MARRAST. 69
Parisian printing ofEee that the compositor may never have
seen the journalist whose leaders he has spent half his life in
setting up, for copy, proof and revise glide up or down as if
by the agency only of magic, and the real actors rarely meet
CHAPTER IX.
The journalist who now occupied the editorial chair was seem-
ingly about thirty-five years of age, and one whom the ladies
would call " a fine-looking man." His stature was about the
average, his shoulders broad and his form thick^seL His face
was long and thin, his forehead full and capacious, though not
high, and was furrowed by thought His beard, which, like his
hair, was black, encircled his chin, and a moustache was suf-
fered to adorn his lip. His dress was black and a plain stock,
without a collar, surrounded his throat. His eyes were large,
black and piercing, and the expression of his countenance was
contemplative and sad.
Such is a hasty limning of the personal outlines of the first
journalist in Paris, the chief editor of the chief organ of the
democracy in Europe, Arniand Marrast, of " Le National."
An air of depression, exhaustion and regret was upon his
face as he sat beside the table, with a pen in his hand and paper
before him, in a thoughtful mood, as if planning a leader for
his journal, of which but a single line was written. Whatever
were his reflections, they were evidently far from pleasant ;
but the single line traced at the head of the paper indicated
the source of his uneasiness. It read:
" Again the House of Orleans triumphs I "
Throwing down his pen, he folded his arms, and began hastily
pacing the chamber.
"Again the House of Orleans triumphs!" he bitterly ex-
claimed. " Aye, again and again ! It is thus forever, and thus
forever seems likely to continue. Every measure, however im-
perative, of the opposition, ignominiously fails every measure
of the Government however infamous, succeeds. And so it
bu been for twelve years. Ah t what a barren sceptre did the
Hflc
70 EDMOND DANTES.
Three Days of '30 place in the hands of the French people! The
despotism of a Citizen King has been as deadly as that of the
Restoration, and more insulting. For twelve years his acts have
been but a continuous series of infringements upon the rights,
and insuhs to the opinions, of the men of July. The Republi-
can party is trampled on. Freedom of the press, electoral reform,
rights of labor, restriction of the Royal prerogative, reduction
of the civil list, all these measures are effectually crushed. The
press is fettered, and its conductors are incarcerated. Out of a
population of thirty-three millions, but two hundred thousand
are electors. Out of four hundred and sixty deputies, ore-
third hold places under the Government, the aggregate of whose
salaries would sustain thousands of starving families at their very
doors. Paris, despite every struggle of freedom, is, at this
hour, a Bastille. The line of fortification is complete. Where-
ever the eye turns battlements frown, ordnance protrudes, bay-
onets bristle. Corruption stalks unblushingly abroad in the
highest places, and the frauds of Gisquet all Paris knows are
but those of an individual. The civil list, instead of being re-
duced, is every year enlarged. A Citizen King receives forty
times the appropriation received by the First Consul, while his
whole family are quartered on the State. The dotation to the
Duke of Orleans, on his marriage, would have saved from
starvation hundreds of thousands whose claim for charity far
exceeded his. Thank God, his own personal unpopularity de-
feated the dotation designed for the Duke of Nemours. But
the appanages were granted because the King's life was at-
tempted by an assassin. A Citizen King, indeed ! This man
cares only for his own. He would be allied to every dynasty in
Europe. His policy is unmixed selfishness. His love for the
people who made him their monarch is swallowed up in love
for himself. Millions have been wrung from the sweat of toil to
accomplish a worse than useless conquest, thousands of French-
men have been sacrificed on the burning sands of Africa, and
all for what? that a throne might be won for a boy a boy
without ability, or experience, and now the Duke of Aumale
is Governor-General of Algeria, while hundreds of brave men
are forgotten."
As these last words, which indicated the cause of the present
agitstion, were uttered by the excited journalist a door at the
further end oi the apartment softly opened, and a young man
ARMAND MARRAST.
|if very low stature and boyish in aspect entered. He seemed,
t a flrst glance, hardly to have attained his majority, thous^i
actually he was ten years older. His face was round, yet pale,
'his lips full, his brow commanding, his eye large, dark and
thoughtful, and his characteristic expression mild and benevo-
lent. He wore a dark frock coat, buttoned to the chin, and a
plain black cravat was tied around his neck.
The journalist was so deeply absorbed in his meditations that
for some moments he seemed unaware that he was no longer
alone, and he might have remained yet longer in that ignorance
had not the guest approached and exclaimed;
" Algeria 1 "
The journalist raised his head and hastily turned.
" Ah ! Louis, is it you ? " he said, cordially extending his hand ;
"I'm glad you've come. But why did I not hear you?"
" For two reasons, my dear Arniand," said the visitor, seat-
ing himself in an editorial chair : " one, that I came in by the
private entrance, and the other that you were too zealously
engaged in cursing the recent appointment of the king to hear
anything short of a salvo of artillery."
" Ah ! that cursed appointment I What next I wonder?
Thank God, the old man has no more sons to make governors,
although he'll never be satisfied till each one of them has a
crown on his head, by his own right or the right of a wife."
' And what care we whom the boys marry, so long as mar-
riage takes them out of France? Montpensier can find favor
in the eyes of the Spanish Infanta, Christina's sister, and thus
balk England; be it so, yes, be it so, especially since it can't be
helped or prevented."
" But this affair of Algeria, Louis^ "
"Is a very different affair you would say. No doubt, no doubt.
As to Algeria, I have always viewed it as a very costly bauble
for France, "an opera-box' as the Duke of Broglie once said,
l^^'rather too expensive for France.'"
^H[ " Bui then it has been a splendid arena for French valor.
^Plt has given the rough old Bugeaud a Marshal's baton, and ha^ _
made the gallant Lamoriciere, bis sworn foe, a general oflicer, J
thanks to his own intrepid conduct and the court influence of his H
brother-in-law, Thiers." H
" In the late dispatch appear the names of some new candi- ^|
Kes for advancement, 1 perceive," ^H
73 EDMOND DANTks.
"Yo allude to Morrel and Joliette among others, I suppose.
Morrel has received a rcgitnent, and Joliette is Chef d'Escadroti
of Spahis. Luckily for aspirants, and thanks to disease
slaughter, there is no lack of vacancies."
" The name of Morrel I have seen before in the ' Moniteur,'
but Joliette who is he?"
" A sort of protege of Bugeaud, 'tis said. He is reported
to have enlisted at Marseilles, and in three years has rise
his present position from the ranks. He is of a good family,
rumor says, but, suddenly reduced by some calamity, he became
" He must be a brave fellow, Armand ! As I said before,
Algeria has been a fine field for the development of military
genius. My chief objections to French conquests are these
they have drained millions from France which should have
been devoted to the cause of labor, and have tended to dazzle
the masses with the glory of the achievements of French valor
abroad; thus while thousands of the young and enterprising
have been lured away to fill up the ranks, and to seek fame
and fortune, the minds of those remaining have been wi
drawn from their own wrongs, oppression and suffering, j
from efficiently concerting to sustain the measures of their
friends for their relief. There is not a race in Christendom
so fond of military glory and achievement as the French. Daz-
zled by this, the people, the ma-sses "
" The people, the masses ! " impatiently interrupted the jour-
ilist You know me, Louis ; for years you have known i
weli, for years have we devoted every energy of heart a
soul to the cause of the people, and for years, ever since
came to man's estate, have we been equal sufferers in the same
" Sufferers in the cause of the people of France, in the cause
of man, we both, doubtless, have been, but not equal suffere
What have been my sacrifices or sufferings, my dear Armand^
compared to yours? In that dark hour when Arraand Carrel
fell fell by an ignoble bullet in an ignoble cause fell in bitter-
is and without a hope for liberty in his beloved France I
felt impelled to come forward and exert myself for the welfare
of my race, and endeavor to aid others in rilling the gap created
by his loss. To France, to my country, did 1 then, though but
fi bo)', devote nyself France, my country! (or sBtb \ fed
THE COMMUNISTS. 79
) be, ihougli i was born in Spain and my mother was a
Corsican, Since tbat hour my pen has been dedicated lo the
cause of the people, [he deihronemcnt of the Bourgeoisie and
the organization of labor. As to sacrifice or suffering, I have
sacrificed only my time and toil at the worst. I have not been
deemed worthy of suffering even a fine tor a newspaper libel,
and my paper has never been thought worth suppression ! "
" And what have I accomplished, Louis ? " asked Marrast,
gloomily. " My life seems almost a blank."
"With Armand Carrel, you have for fifteen years been the
champion of Republicanism in France, and with you, as leaders,
has all been accomplished that now exists. When Carrel died,
on you fell his mantle. As editor of ' La Tribune,' your bold-
ness and charging Casimir Perier and Marshal Soult with con-
nivance in Gisquet's scandalous frauds brought upon you fint.
and imprisonment Your boldness and patriotism during the
insurrection of the sth and 6th of June, 1832, once more caused
your paper to be stopped and your presses to be sealed. In
April, '34, your press was again stopped, and you, with Godefroi
Cavaignac, were thrown into Sainte Pelagic, whence you so
gallantly escaped, though to become an exile in England.
Again, in '35, you were sentenced to transportation. So much
for sufferings ; as to sacrifices why, you have been utterly ruined
by fines 1 "
"Well, Louis, well," was the sad answer, "granting all this,
my sacrifices and sufferings are only the more bitter from the
fact of having been utterly in vain, entirely useless. You,
Louis, have been wiser than L Your journal is well named
' Bon Sens.' "
" Possibly wiser," was the reply. " and possibly less bold.
But does not discretion sometimes win what boldness would sac-
rifice? In rashly struggling for all we sometimes lose all. Pru-
dence and perseverance, my dear Armand, are invaluable."
^K At this moment the private door opened, an4 three nien
^bitered the editorial lan^tumi
CHAPTER X.
THE COMMUNISTS.
?d by Gooy It
74 EDMOND DANTES.
Marrast quickly turned, and his friend was silent.
"Hal Albert, Flocon, Eollin!" he cried, "Welcome, wel-
come I Our friend, Louis Blanc, was just about wasting on
me a sermon upon patience, but now he'll have an audience
worthy of the subject. Be seated and listen I "
" Patience I " exclaimed Flocon. " Well, I'm sure we need
it"
" That we do, in our present low estate," echoed Rollin.
Albert said nothing, but smiled with sarcastic significance.
When the salutations were over and the party, all but Mar-
rast, who restlessly paced the room, were seated, Louis Blanc
looked around on his friends with a sad smile, and continued;
" Marrast is right. Messieurs. I was, indeed, preaching pa--
tience, I was endeavoring to soothe his irritation and chide his
depression with a sermon; since we are all old friends and
lellow-sufFerers in the good cause- and have a common in-
terest in knowing the reasons of failure and the means of
triumph, I wtli by your leave proceed."
" Aye, dear Louis, go on I " cried Marrast, kindly. " But
you are the most youthful sage I ever listened to."
"Yes, I-ouis, proceed; you look like a cure," said Rollin,
laughing.
" I subscribe to Louis Blanc's creed, be it what it may," added
Flocon, briskly,
" And so do I," said Albert, gravely, in a deep tone.
Of ihe new visitors, Ledru Rollin was a man of medium
stature, about thirty-five years of age and dressed in the ex-
treme of the mode. His complexion and hair were light, his
eyes large, blue and protruding, his mouth prominent, and his
full cheeks covered with whiske:s, which like those of Marrast,
were closely trimmed and met beneath his chin. His head and
shoulders were thrown back, and his air was bold and independ-
ent He was a lawyer of talent, who had gained celebrity as
advocate of the accused on many occasions of State prosecutions.
Flocon was an older man than Rollin, and his countenance
bore the wary, vigilant and suspicious look which experience
alone gives. He was low in stature, thick-set and close-knit
in figure; his eyes seemed always half closed; his brow was
broad and massive; his face was long; a moustache was on
his lip and his hair was closely cut. The outline of his head
and the expression of his face seemed those rather of one
THE COMMUNISTS. 75
the banks of the Rhine than on the banks of the
calm and passionless did they appear. His dress was
Flocon was the chief editor o "La Reforme,"
'hich indicates its character. It was this man
who, in February, 1833, repressed the violence of his partisans
and saved the office of the " Gazette de France," yet the very
day published his celebrated letter to the Legitimists, which,
for audacity, force and pungency was only equaled by the
iralyzing effect it produced The fines, imprisonments and
;vi! incapacities to which this man had been subjected for
laults upon a government he deemed corrupt, for the ten
years preceding, Had been literally numberless.
Albert was a man of fifty or more, with a large head, square
German face and forehead, a large hazel eye, fixed and unexcit-
able. hair closely cut, and beard upon his chin and lip. His
dress was a long, iron-gray frock coat, buttoned closely to his
chin. His face was rather thin, and his complexion bronzed.
His name had for years been identified with reform; and
though a manufacturer himself, of the class ot workmen, being
proprietor and chief engineer of a large machine factory at
Lyons, he had established and sustained in that city a paper to
advocate his principles, named " La Glaneuse," the prosecution of
which by the Government for libel and the fining and imprison-
ment of its editor formed an originating cause of the revolt in
Lyons of April, 1834. For the part played by this man in the
revolt thus arising, he was sentenced to transportation, a pen-
alty afterwards commuted to fine and imprisonment. He was
a man of few words, remarkably few, but of deep thcught and
prompt action, and, in moments of crisis and emergency, a man
ihaken and inflexible nerve. To the casual observer, he
seemed only a silent man. or a sullen 01
limes ot peril he was a man of iron, bu
passion, too, moving with resistless might.
mental or physical, demanded, indeed,
import, but once roused they were irresistible.
Such were the personages now assembled
"Le National;" and of ihosc five men, all wer
the press, directly, as editor or proprietor,
Rollin, and he was a writer for " La Reformi
advocate.
of a
: stolid; i
n the office of
connected with
ive only Ledru
7ft EDMOND DANTES.
The name of Louis Blanc's paper was, as has been said, " Le
Bon Sens."
But to return to the narrative.
" And you really wish a sermon from me, old comrades, with
patience as the text ? "
" Aye aye aye ! " exclaimed all.
" Suppose I add to it this line I find on the paper before me
on the table, that our good Marrast had just written as the
text for a paragraph which would probably have cost him an-
other line and imprisonment, had the paragraph been completed
and published ? "
" Read ! read 1 " cried RoUin.
"With your permission, Armand?"
' Certainly," replied the editor, still continuing his promenade.
" ' Again the House of Orleans triumphs ! ' " read Louis Blanc,
" And it is not true the accursed tyrants? " vociferated
Rollin.
" Aye, true ! " was the mild answer ; " alas, loo true t That
perfidious House does triumph, and for that very reason the
fact should never be acknowledged by its opponents."
Rollin shook his head, and, throwing himself back in his
capacious chair, folded his arms, sunk his chin upon his breast
and closed his eyes.
Marrast continued his walk.
Flocon remained silent and thoughtful.
Albert gave a significant smile.
"Oppose ceaselessly, but quietly, every act of despotism this
Bourgeois Government may attempt; but, be the result what
it may, never admit yourselves discouraged, depressed, dismayed,
defeated. From every fall rise like Antaeus, with renewed
vigor. Nor is it wise or prudent in those engaged in a great
and glorious cause to provoke danger, to brave penalty, when
nothing of good to that cause can reasonably be expected. Pru-
dence, policy, patience and perseverance accomplish more than
rashness, yet are not inconsistent with intrepidity, boldness,
patriotism and philanthropy the most exalted. Comrades, whit
says the past, the past ten years, in whose events we have all
so intimately mingled? Shall I tell you?"
" Aye ! ' L'Histoire de Dix Ans,' " said Flocon.
" We are all sure of being immortal there, in that same book
.GcKi'^le
THB COMMUNISTS. "
of yours! Eh! Louis?" cried RoUin, opening his large blue
Louis Blanc smiled and continued:
" Shall 1 convince you comrades, by the history of the past
ten years, the scenes we have all witnessed, the events we
have all deplored, the defeats we have all sustained, the insulting
ovations we have all been forced to bebold and the unceasing tri-
umphs and tyranny of the House of Orleans that, had patience
and prudence been onr motto, these defeats and triumphs would
never have been witnessed, because these premature revolts would
never have been made?"
Albert smiled and gave his peculiar smile.
' Our friend Albert smiles, and well he may. He has had a
sad experience in this error of premature outbreaks. In April,
1834, he exerted every energy to restrain the revolt in Lyons, as
chief of the Societe des Droits de I'Homme, and the undoubted
friend of the operatives. But his efforts were futile. Exasper-
ated, urged on by less experienced leaders, they were in full
tide of revolution, and could no more be restrained in their un-
wise rising than could the mountain cataract in mad career be
dammed. The result was, of course, defeat most disastrous
defeat. Hundreds of the people perished, and our friend was
imprisoned and fined for taking part in a movement, which be
had in vain attempted to quell, and then with the certainty of
defeat, had joined, rather than desert the people who trusted
and relied on him."
"A noble act!" cried Marrast, as he paced the room.
Albert quietly smiled, but otherwise his countenance remained
unmoved.
"And was it not a most noble and a most wise act," con-
tinued the author of " The Ten Years," " when our friend
Flocon, by an energetic and eloquent harangue, restrained the
indignant people from razing to the ground the office of the
"Gazette de France,' the organ of the Duchess of Berri, and
his bitter foe ? Terribly would that rash act have recoiled on
us, and yet, at the same time, with this most patriotic and pru-
dent deed before us, a wilder measure than even that was
adopted, and it was quelled only by force. You all remember
llic events. In February, '33, Eugene Brifault, in his 'Corsair,'
I alluded jestingly to the mysterious pregnancy of the mother oi
^Jcnry V., Duke of Bordeaux, as did every owe, s\\ft "ftvwv'^^wt
n.r,rt-,vGt)OuJl^
73 EDMO\'D D ANTES.
imprisoned at Baye because of her prior conspiracy to place
her son on the throne, and her secret marriage in Italy being
unreveakd. The Legitimists of ' Le Revenant ' challenged ; the
allusion was repeated, and a second trial and a death ensued.
' Le National ' and ' La Tribune,' regarding these repeated chal-
lenges as a menace to the Republicans, hurled defiance at the
Legitimists, and demanded twelve distinct rencounters in behalf
of as many names of our friends posted at their offices, among
which those of Armand Carrel, Godefroi Cavaignac and Armand
Marrast were conspicuous. The challenge is accepted the names
of twelve L.egitimists are furnished Armand Carrel selects
Roux Laborie they fight, and Carrel is dangerously wounded
the police then interfere the affair ends with Flocon's ter-
rific and audacious deiiance flung down at the whole Legitimist
and Orleans parties in the columns of ' La Reforme.' Now, what
to Republicans were the quarrels of Legitimists and OrleanistsF
If we were to be ruled by a king, what cared we whether that
king were Henry V. or Louis Philippe? How would the sac-
rifice of Carrel, Marrast, Cavaignac, or of any of those twelve
brave men have beer repaid, or made up? And afterwards, alas I
in July of '36, when Armand Carrel, causelessly assuming a
quarrel not his own, because of a fancied attempt to degrade
the press, by rendering its issues accessible, by cheapness, to
the masses, was slain in the Bois de Vincennes by the vulgar
bullet of Emile de Girardin, of ' La Presse.' What reparation
to our cause was it that our champion had died like a hero,
and Chateaubriand, Arago, Cormenin and Beranger wept around
his grave? Alas! that inestimable life belonged to his country
and his race, and not to himself, to fiing away in an obscure
" But we are not all of us Armand Carrels," said RoUin.
" And yet, to the great cause of human liberty, and the amelio-
ration of man's condition, to which each of us stands sworn, are
pledged our lives. To hazard that cause, by the sacrifice of
those lives, or by rashly and unwisely attempting its advance-
ment, makes us violators of our vows, quite as much in reality
as If we had become traitors."
" But the instances you cite are those only of individual
rashness, Louis, and not of the people, or of their leaders act-
ing in concert," remarked Marrast.
" True, concert of action has been chiefly needed, but I have
.GcKHjIc
THE COATMUXISTS. TS
recall the dates and places of our repeated attempt? and
defeats, for the past ten years, to convince yoa all that those
attempts were premature, and had they not been so they might
have been successful that they have frittered away energies
which, properly concetKrated and directed, might have achieved
a revolution : and that while they have betrayed our designs and
depressed our friends, have enabled our foes insultingly to
triumph and caused them to be on the constant qui vive to an-
ticipate our movements. What but premature and undigested
uprisings were the conspiracy of the bell-tower of \6tre Dame,
in January of '32, when ' Le National ' was seized or the dis-
turbances in La Vendee or those in Grenoble or those in Mar-
seilles or those in the Rue des Prouvaires or those in April,
during the cholera, when Casimir Perier died or those of the
5th and 6th of June, on the occasion of General Lamarque's fun-
eral, on pretence of avenging upon the Government the affront
offered during the obsequies of Casimir Perier, the victim-
Premier of the cholera? For the part taken by 'La Tribune,'
then conducted by Marrast, in this revolt, its press was suzed
and sealed. The same was the fate of ' La Quotidienne,' and the
same would have been the fate of ' Le National,' but for its
barricades. Well do I remember the meeting of our friends in
this very apartment on the night after General Lamarque's
funeral. The great shade of the venerable warrior seemed
among us, repeating for our counsel and imitation his last im-
pressive words, 'I die but the cause lives!' But, alas! we ob-
served it not Doubt, dissension, dismay and despair were in
our midst. All was dark all was defiance and denunciation,
crimination and recrimination brother's hand raised against
brother. Armand Carrel that night sat in his chair, but he was
not the man to command his own will or opinions ; how could
he then bring to obedience and concert the conflicting impulses
of others? Armand Carrel was a wonderful man. His motto,
like that of Danton, was this : ' Audacity, audacity, always au-
dacity!' Yet with all the audacity of Danton, he had little of
his firmness. An officer under the Restoration, a conspirator
at Bifort, in arms in Spain against the white flag, three times
a prisoner before a council of war in 1830 he was with Thiers,
the founder of this ioumal ; but everywhere he carried the
exactitude of the camp: even in dress, manner and bearing
was a soldier lofty, linughty, scemmft\^ o'jmWwto.i, "s*^
f^v
vGooylf
80 EDMOND DANTES.
at heart, noble and generous, and to his friends accessible
in the extreme. To his military notions, nothii^ could be ac-
complished without soldiers, and for the people to carrj a
revolution against soldiers seemed to him absurd."
'* Armand Carrel v/ould have been, nevertheless, a good rev-
olutionist, Louis," said Marrast ; " but he was a bad conspirator.
He had no faith in the people, no confidence in the efforts of un-
disciplined and unarmed masses."
" And therein," said Rotlin, " he greatly erred."
" Although we can as yet boast of having accomplished bnt
very little by them, Ledru," added Flocon, with a meaning smile.
" The masses are easily roused, but they don't stay roused, and
then they often get unmanageable, even by those by whose
summons they were stirred up. The fight well, but, somehow or
other, they always get beaten; they succumb at last, and boD
their necks to the yoke lower than ever."
" It is not the people," said Louis Blanc, " it is we the leaders,
who are to Le blamed. We rouse them before we are rei^f
for them before we have prepared them or anything else for
result; and then it is not strange that they only rush bravely
on to death and defeat. We seize on the occasion of a funeral
for an outbreak without organization, and the cuirassiers of
the military escort trample our ranks beneath their horses' hoofs.
But for unusual efforts, such would have been the case at the
funeral of Dulong, the Deputy who fell in a duel with Gen-
eral Bugeaud, in January of '34."
"What were the circumstances?" asked RolHn.
" Armand recollects them better than I," replied Louis Blanc.
" The circumstances were these, as I remember them," said
Marrast. "General Bugeaud remarked in the course of a
speech in the Chamber that 'obedience is always a soldier's
duty.' 'What if the order be to become a turnkey"" asked Du
long, in allusion to the General's position in relation to the
Duchess of Berri, during her pregnancj and confinement at
Baye. Armand Carrel endeavored to pacificate but the effort
failed. They met in the Bois de Boulogne at ten o'clock in the
morning; the weapons were pistols the distiiice forty paces
Bugeaud fired almost as soon as he turned advancmg only a
few steps; his ball entered above Dulong's right eye, and at six
o'clock that evening he was dead."
r 1 Goo^k
THE COMMUNISTS. 81
" There was a splendid ball at the Tutleries that night, was
there not?" asked Flocon.
" There was, and this, with other things, excited in the masses
the idea that their champion was the victim of a Royalist con-
spiracy, which all the influence of Armand Carrel and Dulong's
uncle, Dupont de I'Eure was hardly sufficient to suppress. But
Dupont immediately resigned his seat in the Chamber. He would
* sit no longer in a body one man of which he deemed the mur-
derer of a beloved nephew. The obsequies were grand. Armand
Carrel pronounced the eulogy, and two hundred and thirty-four
deputies wet the grave with their tears. The people were greatly
excited, and, as has been said, were with great difficulty re-
strained by Carrel and Dupont. Had they been suffered to re-
volt, the only result which could have followed would have been
a terrific outpouring of their blood, furnishing another instance,
I suppose, of the evil of impatience; is it not so, Louis?"
"Undoubtedly," was the reply; "and only two months after
that other instance actually occurred, for our warning, in
the revolt at Lyons, with which we are all familiar, and in which
we were all actors, most of us to our sorrow. This was in
April. Albert's journal, ' La Glaneuse,' had been seized for libel
on the Government, and the editor fined and imprisoned. Next
a reform banquet of the operatives was forbidden, although but
a year before Garnier Pages had been suffered to banquet the
Lyonnese to the number of two thousand, and although at no
period had so many gorgeous festivities and public balls been
given by the rich Royalists, as if in premeditated scorn of the
banquet prohibited to the poor Republicans. The result was
so prompt as to seem inevitable; there was a strike of the opera-
tives, an insurrection of the people. Albert was sent to Paris
as an envoy, to find a man to lead the revolt. MM. Cabet and
Pages were deemed too moderate. Cavaignac would go only
with Cahet Lafayette was too feeble, but gave his name and
letters. Carrel and Marrast were not members of the Societe
des Droits de I'Homme, and Albert had been cautioned thai
Carrel was too moderate. Thiers had denounced ' La Tribune,'
and Marrast's friends were hiding him from the police. In
despair concerning his mission, the envoy was about returning
home, when he was sent for to Armand Carrel's house, and
Carrel offered to go to Lyons and lead the revolt, provided
Godefroi Cavaignac would accompany him. Now these friends
CicKH^Ic
83 EDUOND DANTES.
had long been at feud, but all private grievances were for-
gotten in this crisis of the cause, and Albert is just about pre-
ceding them in the post-chaise, to announce their coming, when,
lo! the telegraph says 'Order reigns in Lyons!' Here, then,
after a terrific slaughter, was recorded another fruitless re-
volt, because a premature one. Nay, it was infinitely worse than
fruitless. Not only did the Republicans utterly fail in their
attempts, not only were they cruelly crushed by the Royal mer-
cenaries, but they were openly derided in their defeat, and the
cause was gloomier than ever. The slaughter of women and
children in the streets of Lyons, and on their own hearthstones,
in the course of this insurrection, was hideous, and is graph-
ically portrayed in the memorial of our friend Ledru Rollin,
. as advocate in the matter. But, as if all this were not enoi^
for our persecuted cause, the decease of the great and good
Lafayette, the idol of freemen all the world over, took place
in the following May, Alas ! his sun went down in clouds.
His end was dark. Bitter maledictions quivered on his dying
lips. He had lived to mourn that July day, only three years
before, when, on the steps of the Hotel de Ville, he had with
his own hands, been called to invest a cold-blooded, perfidious,
selfish and most ungrateful tyrant with Royal robes. Ajasi
there was order in Lyons Lafayette was in his grave peace
reigned in Paris the House of Orleans triumphed ! "
" Those were dark days," said Marrast, sadly.
" They were, dear Armand, dark, indeed, for you and your
friends, for your journal had been suppressed, and you were an
inmate, with Cavaignac, of Sainte- Pelagic."
" Whence you both bravely and boldly effected your escape
more than a year afterwards and fled to England, to the most
glorious discomfiture of the knaves who put you there ! " cried
Rollin. " Vive la Republique ! yet Messieurs ! We've all seen
dark days, and the present is none of the brightest; and we've
all come together at these old headquarters of liberty just to be
unhappy together, just to help each other be miserable, which,
in fact, is vastly happier unhappiness than being miserable alone.
At all events, that's what I want. But it can't always be right.
I predict a revolution before another ten years shall have rolled
round, which shall make immortals of us all that revolution
for which we have been waiting, watching, toiling and writing,
lo ! now these thirteen years and upward, for the which waiting,
Chkh^Ic
THE COAfMUNfSTS. 83
watching, toiling and writing we have some of us been fined,
who had money enough to pay a fine, and others imprisoned
and hunted ahout and persecuted. Why, there's Albert and
Flocon haven't been able to get a franc cleverly warm in their
pockets these ten years before forth it was drawn in the form
of a fine ; while as for Marrast, he has the perfect air and bear-
ing of a bandit, so often has he seen the inside of a dungeon ;
and our friend Albert isn't much better looking. As for Louis
and myself, why, we never knew what it was to have a franc
get warm in our pockets, so we escaped having any drawn
forth by Ministers, and they have never thought us worth pros-
ecuting or imprisoning. But they may change their minds when
Louis' book, that is to make us all immortal, comes out. Eh,
Louis Blanc smiled, but made no answer.
" Well, it is only meet, I suppose, that I should receive my
share of the blows," said Marrast. " I'm sure I'm not very
delicate or very ceremonious in bestowing them. Besides, every
e of my predecessors has endured the same Carrel, Thomas,
Bastidc ; while poor Rouen, the proprietor, would have been
ed, indeed, a dozen times with fines, but for his enormous
[profits. Why, this old office has been a perfect butt for Min-
s to fire at^it has received a dozen fusillades, at least ;
[ but it stands yet, and, strange as may have been the scenes it
I has witnessed, it will witness yet other and stranger ones, and
: shall all be witnesses thereof, and actors in them, too, or
I greatly do I err."
' So be it, with all our hearts ! " was the general shout
' Apropos of State prosecutions against ' Le National,' " said
[ Louis Blanc, " that was a most exciting time when Rouen was
brought by Thiers before the Court of Peers, for a libel on that
I most august and erudite body."
" Aye ! and a most liberal, honest and honorable conclave
e thrice-sodden and most solemn knaves and mules 1 " cried
I Rollin.
" Rouen at the bar demanded Armand Carrel for his defense,"
I continued Louis Blanc. "To refuse was impossible, but a bitter
pill must it have been to Thiers and Mignet to consent. They
it have foreseen what came. Both, now in the Ministry, only
[ four years before both had been in ' Le National " Thiers as
the colleague of Carrel, and Mignet as a collaborateur. The
,Goeit^le
84 EDMOND'DANTES.
files of the journal were produced, and, lot there stood para-
graphs proven to have emanated from the pens of the prose-
cutors far more libelous and venomous on the august peers than
anything Rouen had published. You all remember the scene
ihat ensued and won't forget it soon."
" No, nor shall we soon forget that noble passage in Armand
Carrel's defense," said Flocon, " in which he evoked the shade
of Marshal Ney, and from the wild excitement that followed,
one would suppose that it had really risen in the hall, bleeding
and ghastly, and pointing to its wounds, like the ghost of Ban-
quo, to blast his hoary, jeweled and noble assassin, who, seated
on those very seats, had sentenced him to an infamous doom.
Carrel was inslantly stopped, but General Excelmens rose in
his seat and pronounced the charge true. It was then reiterated
with tremendous applause from the galleries. How Carrel es-
caped punishment for contempt is not known. Rouen was con-
victed of libel on the peers, of course ; his sentence was a fine
of ten thousand frances and imprisonment for two years."
"But of what words did this famous libel actually consist?"
asked Ledru Rollin.
" Louis can lell you better than I," said Flocon.
" Why, the words were severe enough, no doubt," replied
Louis Blanc, " but Thiers and Mignet had themselves expressed
the same ideas a hundred times, though in less powerful and
pointed language. The passage which seems particularly to have
given offense was this, that in the eyes of eternal justice and
those of posterity, as well as in the testimony of their own
consciences, these renegades from the Revolution, these returned
emigrants, these men of Ghent, these military and civil parvenus,
these old Senators and spoiled Marshals of Bonaparte, these
Procureur Generals, these new-made nobles of the Restoration,
these three or four generations of Ministers sunk in public
hatred and contempt, and stained with blood all these, seasoned
with a few notabilities, thrown in by the Royalty of the 7th
of August, on condition they should never open their lips save to
approve Iheir master's commands all this farrago of servilities
was not competent to pronounce on the culpability of men seek-
ing to enforce the results of the Revolution of Julyl"
" It was not until the commencement of 1835, I think," said
Marrast, " that Ministers opened a general onslaught upon the
Parisian press. 'Le Republicain' was interdicted that year. It
THE COMMUNISTS. 85
was then, too, that the laws against public criers and news-
paper hawkers were instituted. As fa.r back as '33. however,
Rodde had braved all such prohibitions by selling and with im-
punity, too, his own paper in the streets. In May of '35 came on
the general prosecution of the press. RoUin was advocate in
the defence. There were warm words between Armand Car-
rel and his friend Dupont, the lawyer, and there was at one
time apprehension of a duel."
" The position of Armand Carrel with Thiers, his former
colleague, was, at that time, a singular one," remarked Rollin.
" Each seemed to be on the constant search for opportunities
to exasperate the other. The editor assailed the Minister in his
columns, and the Minister retaliated by an arrest. Carrel cen-
sured and ridiculed Thiers, though he respected his abilities, and
Thiers feared and hated Carrel, though he admired his talents."
" It was about this time that Fteschi exploded his infernal
machine at the King, was it not?" asked Flocon. "Thiers
arrested Carrel then, I know."
" It was on the 28th of July of '35, at 'en in the morning, on
the Boulevard du Temple. This was the second attempt on the
King's life, the first having been that of Bergeron, in Novem-
ber of '33. Carrel was arrested as an accomplice, it was pre-
tended, for every one of these attempts has been attributed to
the whole body of the Republicans, while they were utterly ig-
norant of them until they took place, and then bitterly denounced
them. But the Government has made capital out of all these
insane attempts, and against the opposition, too."
" I've heard it asserted," said Rollin, " that the Government
got up some of those little exhibitions of fireworks for that
very purpose. They are quite harmless, so far as the old man
is concerned wonderfully so and Fieschi was made a perfect
fool of, so ridiculously lionized was he by King, Court and Min-
isters. Our friend Marie was advocate for that wretched old
man, Pepin, Fieschi's accomplice, more a ghost than a living
"You are entirely right, friend Rollin," said Louis Blanc,
"in the idea that every one of'these attempts strengthens the
Government and recoils on the opposition. No one should so
vigilantly and vigorously watch for and suppress such attempts
as we. Heaven defend the old despot from the assassin's
weapon, as it seems well inclined to do, or the deed vrill surely
,(lc
86 EDMOND DANTES.
be attributed to us. Every unsuccessful attempt at s
tion is viewed like an unsuccessful attempt at revolt on the
part of the opposition, and injures our cause accordingly. Bet-
ter never to attempt than never to succeed."
" Do you think it true, Louis, as was reported," asked Mar-
rast, " that as soon as the smoke of Fieschi's explosion swept
oB, and the old man found himself standing unharmed amid a
heap of slain and mangled, Marshal Mortier and Colonel Rieus-
see being among the killed, his first exclamation was this,
with ill-concealed gratification, ' Now I shall get my appanages
and the dotations for the boys.' "
" Nothing is more probable," said Louis Blanc. " That old
man has but one impulse selfishness, and but one attachment
to his family his family, because it is his. His purse and family
have for years been his sole objects of love. To aggrandize his
own has been for years his sole end and aim. He parcels out
the thrones and kingdoms of Europe among his children as if it
were but a family estate.'
"What thoughtful selfishness!" exclaimed Flocon; "and at
a moment, too, when he had but just escaped an awful death,
and all around him flowed the blood and lay scattered the lacer-
ated limbs of his faithful servants, either dead or dying with
groans and shrieks of most agonizing torture, and all because
of himself; how disgraceful that, at such a lerribie moment,
his first thought should have been of the few more francs his
trembling hand was striving to tear from a people by whom
he had already been made the richest man in Europe, and which
the occurrence of this dreadful event might serve to win for
"Well," said Rollin, "whether this even aided to win the
appanages and dotations, and was so designed, or not, it is
very sure the aforesaid appanages and dotations were secured.
No wonder that such attempts succeed each other so rapidly one
every year, at the least ! When was the next, Louis that of
Alibaud, I think?"
" That took place about sunset on the 2Sth of June, '36." was
the reply. "Alibaud discharged a walking-stick-gun at the
King, as he left the Tuileries, on his way to Neuilly, at the cor-
ner of the Porte Royale. That Alibaud was a mere boy, and a
very interesting and intelligent boy, too ; but for some mysterious
cause he did not find favor with the court, as did Fiescbi. He
I
I
I
THE COMMUNISTS. 8'
evidently attempted the assassination from i:oRviction, from i
feeling of manifest destiny. After his failure, he only wished
to die, and to die at once. All who have succeeded Alibaud have
been but vulgar cut-throats,"
" In what year was the ifisurtection of Armand Barbes and
Martin Bernard?" asked Flocon. "That proved most disas-
"That was in ',39, May, I'think," answered RoUin. "Barbes,
Blanqui and Bernard were arraigned as leaders. Marie an
myself were advocates for Barbes. Blanqui was sentenced t
death and Barbes to the galleys for life. But we obtained com-
mutation of penalty for Ixith."
"And where is to be the end of all these things?" asked
Marrast, gloomily, as he continued pacing the chamber with
folded arms, his head resting on his bosom. " Are the ten
years on which wc have now entered to be characterized by the
fruitless efforts of tlie past? Are the people of France again,
and again, and again to strike for freedom, only to be stricken
into the dust and trampled beneath the armed heel of a despot's
myrmidons? Are the streets of Lyons, Paris and Marseilles
again to be drenched with the life-blood of their dwellers,
poured out as freely as water and as fruitlessly? Are w
again, for full ten years, to toil, strive, struggle and suffer ; to
be hunted dowii like the vilest criminals, and, like crimi
plunged into the most pestilential dungeons; to be stripped like
slaves of our hard-won earnings, and to be deprived of the most
humble franchises of men claiming at all to be free ; t(
treated with scorn and contumely, and to be debarred the e
rise of those common rights, which, like air and water, belong
to all ; 1 say, brothers, are all these scenes lo be repeated during
the ten years on which we have now entered, as they have been
witnessed during the ten years now past?"
" You speak sadly. Armand," observed Rollin.
" Not so sadly as I feel. I have listened with attention t
the recapitulation of the political events of the past ten years
in France ; and most plainly, and as sadly as plainly, does the
result prove that every movement in our cause has been j
premature as it has been unsuccessful."
" May wc not gather wii'lom, which shall conduct us lo sui
cess in the fuiure, from the very errors and disasters of the
past?" remarked IHocon.
I D,....,Gqoa
88 EDMOND DANTES.
" Alas ! " despondjngly replied Ikf arrast, " what is there in oor
present to promise a bright future more than was in our past
to promise us a bright present? Our great leaders of another
generation have all left us, one after another all have dropped
into their graves. The cold marble has closed over their ven-
erable brows, and they rest well. Vet they died and made no
sign of hope. On us, young, inexperienced and rash, has devolved
their task; but the mantle of their power and virtue has not,
alas! descended with that task to aid in its momentous accom-
plishment. General Lamarque's sun went down in clouds. Mid-
night, deeper than Egyptian darkness, brooded over the delirious
deathbed of Lafayette. Armand Carrel fell without hope; and
are we wiser than they? How often, oh! how often have I
listened - to the words of wisdom that fell from those eloquent
lips, even as a boy reverently listens to a parent for such was
Armand Carrel to me. Upon this very spot have I stood, in
that very chair has he sat, that chair, which, with mingled
shame and pride, I reflect is now filled by me shame, that it is
filled in a manner so unworthy of him pride, that I should have
been deemed lit, after him to fill it at all in that very chair, 1
say, has his noble form reclined, when he for hours, even from
night till the next day's dawn, dwelt with sorrowful eloquence
upon his country's present and looked forward with gloomy fore-
boding and prediction for the future. It almost seems to me
that this mighty shade is with us now ! "
"And why was all this despondency, my dear Armand?" re-
marked Louis Blanc, mildly. " Was it not because our noble
and gifted friend was essentially a soldier, not a civilian, not a
statesman, not a revolutionist? Had Armand Carrel gone to
Algeria, he would have died if died he had not in an unknown
duel, with an unknown bravo he would have died a Marshal
of France a Bugeaud, a Chaugarnier, a Bcdeau, a Cavaignac.
a Clausel, a Lamorieiere. Carrel had no faith in the masses
to achieve a revolution. He never believed that they could even
withstand a single charge of regular troops, much less repel and
"Not even with barricades?" asked Rollin.
" Not even in defence of barricades," continued Louis Blanc.
" Regular troops have much to learn," added Rollin, with a
significant smile. " They will see the day aye I and we all shall
fpp it an4 rejoice ?t its coming, despite {ill mfl8Wliy prog-
THE CO^fMVNISTS. 89
hen the people of Paris will dictate abdication
) the king of the barricades, from the top of the barricades,
the people's throne! Nor will that event tarry long!"
" I doubt it not, I doubt it not. Lcdra ! " exclaimed Louis
Blanc, rejoiced that one of the youngest and least stable of
Iheir number appeared free from the apprehensions of one of
the most induential and seemingly most reliable, 1 accept the
omen indicated by your enthusiasm. But 1 accounted for the
vacillation and distrust of our lamented friend, Armand Carrel,
by reverting to the fact that he relied entirely on regular troops,
military skill, scientific tactics and severe subordination. Now,
all of these belonged to our oppressors and none of them to us;
and, inasmuch as he could not perceive that enthusiasm, passion
for freedom, love of country and family, and the very wrath
and rage of desperation itself sometimes not only supply the
place of discipline, arms and the knowledge requisite to use
them, but even enable vast masses to break down and crush be-
neath their heel the serried ranks of veteran troops, he could
only despair at the prospects apparendy before him. Besides,
Armand Carrel, like all military men, was a man of action, not
reflection of execution, not contrivance a soldier, not a con-
spirator. At the head of ten thousand veteran troops, he would
have charged on thrice their number without discipline, with the
confident assurance of sweeping them from his path as the
chaff of the threshing floor is swept before the blast; but, with
an undisciplined mob, as he contemptuously called the masses,
he would have moved not a step. The larger the multitude, the
less effective and the more impossible to manage he would have
deemed it, A revolution accomplished by means of the three
arms of the military service artillery, cavalry and infantry
horse, foot and dragoons, he could readily conceive ; but a
revolution conducted to a successful issue only by means of
pikes, axes, muskets and barricades, never, to the hour of his
death, despite the victory of the Three Days, could Carrel com-
prehend."
" Besides," said Flocon, " it must not be forgotten that Ar-
mand Carrel, though a most devoted friend to Republicanism,
was never a member of the Societe des Droits de VHomme was
never, as we all now are a Communist, a Socialist, a Fourierist,
a friend to the laborer. No wonder he hoped so little for the
Cple, an4 trusted to accomplish so little through t.h%W
. nri^i-,Gl.)l)'ilt'_..;
90 EDMOND DANTES.
"There can be no doubt that the social principle which Re-
publicanism is now unconsciously assuming all over Prance,"
mildly remarked Louis Blanc, " is lending to the cause incal-
culable strength. How terribly impressed with a conviction of
the justice of the cause in which they perished must have been
the unhappy insurgents of Lyons, when, with this motto on
their baiuer ' To live toiling or die fighting,' they marched
fiimly up to the cannon's mouth and fought, and, thus fighting,
fell. Yet this conviction is not peculiar to the workmen of
Lyons. It pervades all Paris, all France, and needs only to be
roused to act with an energy which no human power can resist.
Social Republican will be the type of the next revolution in
France it must be. The French people have been dazzled by
the mirage of liberty ever since '89 but it has been only a
mirage. On the last three days of July, '30, the people of Paris
drove out one Bourbon to enthrone another. True, ' The State
is myself,' was not the despotic motto he assumed, as did one
of his successors, but it was ' Me and my family,' which has
proved equally selfish, if not so absolute, and far more danger-
ous to freedom. With Lafayette and Benjamin Constant, the
Citizen King they had made, quarreled as soon as on his throne,
and Lafitte and Dupont de I'Eure, his supporters, were banished
from the Court. Casimir Perier was called to crush the Liberals,
Armand Carrel assailed the act, and urged a republic. ' Le
National ' was prosecuted, and insurrections followed. Thus
was the Revolution of the Three Days won by the people to be
seized and enjoyed by the Bourgeoisie. The next revolution will
be won by the people, too, but the people will enjoy it!"
" And how progresses our principles, Louis, among the peo-
ple?" asked Marrast, who had listened attentively to every word
that had been uttered.
"Never so gloriously as now, Armand, never I Never has
there been such a diifusiaR of information upon the subject
of the rights of labor as now. Pagnerre tells me every day
that volumes, tracts and pamphlets on this topic disappear like
magic from his shelves,"
" Has not the Minister a hand in this mysterious disappearance
of Communist literature?" asked Rollin, "We all know he is
quite frantic on the topic of popular education."
" Oh ! yes, we all understand Guizot's love for the people I
Hi3 system of education promulgated in 1833 was so very beau-
THE COMMUNISTS. 91
I dful that it was almost a pity it was utterly iinpracticable. But
Guizot has very little to do with Pagnerre'a book-shelves, or
with Pagnerre in any way, except to prosecute him from time
to time for publishing Cormenin's withering tracts designed
for the Minister himself, and yet it would almost seem there
was a design to exhaust the market of the publications of oiir
friends ; only the great mass of them go to the provinces and
large quantities abroad. My own little brochure, ' The Or-
ganization of Work,' after having fallen still-born from the
press, died a natural death and been laid out in state for a
year or two on Pagnerre's shelves, all at once is resurrected,
runs through half a dozen large editions, and is translated into
half a dozen languages. The same is true of Lamartine's ' Vision
of the Future,' and the same of Cormenin's tracts, and of the
ten thousand brochures on this same subject of Communism in
all its different shades and phrases, and in every variety of size,
form and style of writing and appearance. These publications
are adapted to every taste and comprehension. The workman is
suited as well as the savant. Ail this savors of magic. Even my
most sanguine anticipations are surpassed by reality. There
will nei'er long lack a supply for a demand, be that demand
what it may. A demand for Fourier literature has turned all
the pens in Paris hard at work tip on it novelists, essayists,
pamphleteers while the Porte St. Antoine, the Porte St. Martin
and all the minor theatres, where are found the masses, swarm
with melodramas, farces and vaudevilles on the same subject,
and none of you have forgotten the powerful play, entitled ' The
Laborer of Lyons,' attributed to M, Dantcs, recently produced
with such success on the boards of the Franijais itself,"
" And who is this M. Dantes," asked Ledru Rollin, " if yoti
will suffer me to interrupt?"
" Decidedly the most remarkable man in the French Chamber
of Deputies," replied Marrast. "In powers of natural eloquence
I never saw his rival,"
"Nor is that all," added Louis Blanc. "Unlike most men
noted as mere orators, tie is a sound logician, as well as a
polished rhetorician. As a political economist he has few equals.
To that subject he seems to have devoted much study, while his
familiarity with the political history of France and of the times
generally all over Christendom seems boundless. In debate, you
,ii.^jT,Goutjl_e3
gs EDMOND DANTES.
(ibservt he is never at a loss for fact or argument, let the dis-
cussion take what direction it may."
"And he has celebrity also as a writer, has he not?" asked
Ledru RolHn.
" The author of ' The Laborer of Lyons ' must be a roan of
distinguished literary genius," was the reply.
"Better than all," said Flocon, "he is devoted heart and soul
to the good cause."
" Such devotedness to a cause I never witnessed," said Mar-
rast. " He puts us all to the blush. With him it appears a
matter of direct individual interest. He is perfectly untiring.
He is like one impelled by his fate. Love or vengeance could
not force onward a man to the attainment of an object more
irresistibly than he seems forced, and that, too, without the
slightest apparent stain of personal interest or ambition. That
man appears to me a miracle a pure philanthropist. He strives,
struggles, suffers, sacrifices, and all with the sole object of amel-
iorating the condition of his race."
" It is indeed, wonderful," said Rollin, thoughtfully. " Do
you know, Marrast, anything of his past history?"
"Lillle, if anything. Of himself he never speaks, and I can
gather nothing from others. Even his constituents had known
nothing of him but a few months before he became their rep-
resentative in the Chamber. His popularity with them he owes
to his efforts to ameliorate their condition. At his own ex-
pense he established among them a Fhalanstrie, which is now
in most successful operation."
"He is rich, then?" asked Flocon.
" Seemingly not, to judge from his habits of life," replied
Marrast. " Not a man in the Chamber is more Republican in
garb, manner, equipage or residence than he, and yet he may
"Is he married?" asked Rollin.
" He has been, I am told," said Marrast. " But we interrupt
you, Louis. You were alluding to the unusual influences now
at work for our cause."
" 1 was about speaking of the newspaper press," said Louis
Blanc. " Never has there been known such a revolution in favor
of Reform and Communist journals, and to none is this better
known than to some of ourselves. There's Flocon's new journal,
'La Reforme,' that has leaped at once into a circulation invct
THE COMMUNISTS. 93
before achieved but by long years of toil and enterprise. The
old ' National,' we need but to look around us to be sure, was
never more prosperous than now, while I am free to confess
that my journal, ' Le Bon Sens,' which has been a sickly child
ever since its birth, has, within three months, tripled its number
of readers, or, at least, its payers. The same is in the main
true of ' Le Monde,' by La Croix, ' Le Journal du Peuple,' by
Dubose, ' Le Courier Frangais,' by Chatelain, ' La Commerce,'
by Bert, ' La Minerve,' by Lemaine, * La Presse,' by Girardin,
and all the journals in Paris which diffuse true ideas upon labor
and the rights of the people, be they In other respects what they
may. Even the ' Charivari,' which views the old King and his
Ministers as fair butts of ridicule, perceives a marked increase
in its patronage since it commenced that course, which sudden
popularity naturally excites it to increase of zeal in the same
path. Besides all this, an army of new papers, aiming to aid
the great cause, have not only sprung up of late, like mush-
rooms, in Paris, but all over France, and even all over Europe;
and so far appear they from interfering with each other's pros-
pects that the more there are the better they seem sustained and
the more ably conducted. A swarm of new and unknown writers
for the press on this great subject seems all at once to have
appeared from unseen hiding-places."
"This is very strange, Louis," said Marrast, "and yet it is,
doubdess, very true. I had observed what you remark myself,
although 1 have viewed the movement less hopefully for the
cause of the Republic than you."
" Depend upon it, Armand," said Louis Blanc, smiling, " that
Republicanism and Socialism are identical terms, as much so as
Communism and despotism are antagonistic terms."
But how do you account for this wonderful change, this
irecedented fever for Fourierism?" asked Flocon.
" I don't pretend to account for it at all. The merits of the
lave, perhaps, begun to be properly appreciated. Unusual
efforts have been made by our friends of late. Whole nations
and epochs are sometimes seized with a contagious mania for
peculiar species of literature, as for everything else. But I
will hint to you a suspicion which I have recenlty entertained.
namely, that, after all, the rapid sale and ready market for every
species of Fourier literature is not an unerring indication of
Ibe amount of reading of such literature, ot tht d&toaxA ^oax
,.,.sG
D4 EDMOND DANTES.
actually exists of buyers as well as readers individual ones
at least. As for the journalistic literature, that I have learned is,
without doubt, gratuitously distributed, to a great extent, among
the masses."
"But can the masses read the papers?" asked Marrast.
" Each family, house, neighborhood, cafe or cabaret, at any
rate, has, at least one reader," said Rollin ; " and all the men,
women and children have ears to hear, if not power to compre-
hend. But some of these papers, which I have seen, come down
in style to the very humblest comprehension."
" Can it be," asked Flocon, " that there is such a club as a
society for the diffusion of social knowledge in Paris, after
the form of that in London, instituted by Lord Henry Brougham
and his Whig coadjutors, for the diffusion of general informa-
tion, and so opposed by the Tories."
" If there be such an association," said Louis Blanc, " it has
managed to elude all my vigilance thus far, and that of the
Government, loo, for Guizot can perceive, if no one else can,
the inevitable effect of all this, and he has no idea that the
dear people of France shall be educated by any one save him-
self. But, actually, there seems to me to exist too much unity
of purpose and action in this enterprise for it to be the work
of an association. I should rather suppose one powerful and
philanthropic mind at the head of the movement, were there
not two things so plainly opposed to it as to forbid the idea
the first being that there is no one man in Europe who is rich
enough to expend such immense sums upon such an enterprise,
if he would, and the second that there is no man who has the
subject sufficiently at heart to do it, if he could."
CHAPTER XL
"wait and hope."
Just then a light rap was heard at the private door, which
Marrast immediately hastened to open, as if in anticipation of the
arrival of a friend.
A brief and rapid colloquy ensued; then M. Dantes, the Dep-
uty from Marseilles, was introduced. He seemed acquainted
" IVAIT AND HOPE." !)5
ind to be held in high regard by all present. His dress,
as usual, was black, with a white cravat, and his manner and
bearing had all that magnetism and dignity which so deeply
impressed those he met.
" I find you in private conference, do I not. Messieurs? " asked
he, glancing around with a smile. " I pray you let me not in-
terrupt. I have called but for a moment to speak with M. Mar-
rast respecting a measure in the Chamber, and have consented
to enter only at his solicitation."
" You are right, M, Dantes," replied Marrast, "in supposing us
engaged in a private conference, and upon matters of deep im-
port, though conferences in this office can never be so private
or so important as not to derive benefit from the presence and
counsel of the Deputy from Marseilles."
"Most true," observed Louis Blanc; "and so far from in-
trusion do we view your arrival that we can but consider it
most opportune that we have the privilege of referring to you a
question on which, between us, especially between our friend
Marrast and myself, there seems some little diversity of senti-
" It would, I fear," said M. Dantes, " be impardonable arro-
gance in one so young as I am in the great cause of human
liberty to offer counsel to you, who are all veterans, and most
of you little less than martyrs to your enthusiasm. But no good
citizen will shrink from the responsibility of declaring the re-
sults of his reflections on all topics which have reference to
the general weal."
"We differ mainly in this," said Marrast: "Louis Blanc at-
tributes the Republican failures of the past ten years to pre-
maturity and, want of preparation in our attempts, and con-
tends that all those reverses may be retrieved by patience and
prudence in future, while, to my mind, there is nothing to indi-
cate for the future, from the same causes, different results than
those experienced in the past."
" Concert of action," said M. Dantes, mildly, " is always an
indispensable requisite in the accomplishment of every enter-
prise which relies for its success on association, or the combined
i efforts of individuals laboring for a common end; yet, with
Kll the concert of action which can possibly be attained, the
|iest arranged and best digested scheme in the world may be
hlined by premature movement. Of this we surely have &&i
,Gl.)t.)y
96 EDMOND DANTES.
proof in the history of the past ten years alluded to. There is
something of truth in the declaration so frequently made that
the French people are not yet prepared for freedom. If this
be so, then it is the duty of their friends to prepare thera. It
is folly to suppose that the masses should, at first, intuitively
know all their rights and the best mode of vindicating them.
This they must be taught; and, to this end, the press should be
unceasingly at work, not only all over France, but all over
Europe, in diffusing correct views upon life and labor, and polit-
ical rights and powers. There should be, also, concert of ac-
tion among the friends of freedom, and clubs should at once
be instituted in every city, town and village in France, which
should be in private and intimate correspondence with similar
clubs in Paris and in all the capitals of Christendom. There
should, likewise, be unity of action introduced among the masses
themselves. In a city like Paris, and among a people like the
French, secret signals can easily be arranged, by which, at any
hour of the night, or of the day, fifty thousand laborers in their
blouses might be concentrated at any point where their pres-
ence is required, and that, too, with arms in their hands fur-
nished from secret arsenals; and thus would those pitiable
slaughters of helpless insurgents, like those of sheep in the
shambles, we have so often witnessed, be avoided, if nothing
besides were gained. The people are ever but too ready to
pour out their blood, and the most difficult and delicate task
in our enterprise is, after all, to restrain them to impress upon
them the all important maxim, without which nothing great,
good or enduring is achieved, those three words in which all
human wisdom is contained, ' Wait and hope.' "
" And for what are we to wait and hope, for which we have
not already in vain waited and hoped the past ten years?"
asked Marrast.
" The true hour to strike ! " was the firm answer.
"And that hour, when will it come?"
" It may come quickly, as it will come surely, soon or late !
It cannot be that the Revolution of July should continue much
longer to result in the solemn mockery it has. It cannot be that
its friends should much longer be withheld from those by whom
it was achieved, only to aggrandize one old man and his sons.
It cannot he that the unmitigated and disgusting selfism of
Louis Philippe, and his efforts to ally himself with every crowned
" WAIT A^D HOPn." 07
1 Europe not for the glory of France, but for his own
will much longer be overlooked or their perils niasked. The
appanages grasped by himself the dotation and bridal outfit of
the Duke of Orleaus the dotation sought for the Duke of
Nemours, and his appointment as Regent during the minority
of the Count of Paris the Governorship of Algeria bestowed
on the youthful and inexperienced Aumale, to the insult of so
macy brave and victorious generals the naval supremacy, to
which has been exalted the ambitious Joinville, and his union
to the opulent Brazilian Princess the effort to unite the young
Montpensier with the Infanta of Spain the environment of
Paris with Bastilles, with the avowed purpose of fortifying order
by turning the ordnance which should protect into enginery
of destruction an immense standing army the notorious cor-
ruption of officials, and the audacious dabbling of Ministers in
the stocks, i not the King himself, by means of information
oblained by the Government telegraph, and withheld from tlie
people, or of information manufactured by the telegraph de-
signed to affect the Bourse the unprecedented number of place-
I jnen occupying seats in the Chamber of Deputies, yet receiv-
ing exorbitant salaries as incumbents of civil ofiices, one man
Wng often in receipt of the salaries of several offices, though
erforming the duties of none the fact that Ministers have
ptainEained majorities by unblushing bribery in elections that
^Hrdly one man in two hundred is an elector the profligate
Irts of corruption by which every able man is bought by the
Court the disgraceful censorship of the press and the drama
the enormous appropriations for the civil list, wrung out by
grinding taxes from the toil and sweat of millions the absurd
assumption, yet the monstrous power, over the press and its
conductors, of that conclave of hoary dotards called the Cham-
ber of Peers the utter and most impious disregard of the de-
privation and misery of the operative ajid laborer, although ar-
rayed side by side with the insolence and wealth pampered by
the taxes torn from themselves the total forgelfulness of the
self-evident truth of the right of all men to labor, unrestricted
by the baneful influences of the competition of capitalists
Iie facts, properly urged and set forth by the press, from
tribune and in the clubs, in connection with due enlighten-
it of the masses upon their rights as to labor and its reward
the duly of government thereupon could i\Qt tail. Wi -^x^-
M,Gl.)l)ylt J
93 EDMOND DANTE$.
pare the popular mind, all over France, and all aver Europe,
for reform for revolution."
" Unquestionably," cried Louis Blanc, " such would be the
effect; and it would not only prepare the people for reform, and
stimulate them to obtain it, but it would make them Republicans
true Republicans American Republicans ! The Americans do
not plume themselves on the title citizen, but they work; they
dispute little about words, but clear their Jands ; they do not
talk of exterminating anybody, but they cover the sea with
their ships, they construct immense canals, roads and steamers
without jabbering at every stroke of the spade about the rights
of man. With them, labor, merit, talent and honest opulence
are honored and rewarded aristocracies. Such Republicans
would furnish France more Washingtons, Jeffersons and Madi-
sons, and fewer Robespierres, Dantons and Marats ! "
" There can be do doubt," remarked Flocon, " that the para-
mount interest in a republic is that of those who work, that
the labor question is of supreme importance, that the pro-
found problem now submitted to the industrial nations of
Christendom demands satisfactory solution, and that the long-
enduring and most iniquitous miseries of those who toil must
cease. Reform, revolution and government which achieve not
these, achieve nothing ! They would be worse than useless. The
measures suggested by our distinguished friend seem to me
eminently calculated to attain the consummation we desire."
' A good government must and always will systematically up-
hold the poor, and ever interpose to protect the weak against
the strong," said Louis Blanc. " The state should be tutelary
for the ignorant, the poor and the suffering of every descrip-
tion. We must have a guardian government a government
that will accord the aid of that mighty engine, credit, not to the
rich only, but also to the poor. It must interpose likewise in
the matter of industry, and exclude that ant agon istical principle
of competition the poisoned fount of so much virulence, vio-
lence and ruin. Our maxim is, brothers, and in this do we all
concur, ' Human Solidarity,' and our motto, ' Unity, Liberty,
Equality and Fraternity.' All men are of one family, and
once thoroughly sensible of this kindred, discord, hate and selfism
will no longer be possible."
" The views advanced," said Ledru RoUin, " so far as they
tend to the elevation of the masses and to popular preparation
" WAIT AND HOPE." on
for reform. Republicanism or revolution, have my most cordial
approval ; but I would beg to ask how long are the people to
'wait and hope?' When is to come the hour to strike?"
" Who can tell," said M. Dantes, in his low, clear and musical
tones, " at what moment the breath will come which may hurl
on its errand of devastation the avalanche, which the snows and
suns of centuries, perchance, have been preparing for its awful
missioo? In the stillness of the night-time, beneath the clear
blue sky of summer, or amid the ravings of the midnight tem-
pest, its dread march is ordered, and in resistless, crushing sub-
limity it begins to move on to accomplish its terrible errand.
Who may predict the precise moment when the earthquake shall
rock, the tornado sweep, the red lightning scathe, or the lava flood
desolate? And who shall tell the day or the hour when the
people, in their majesty and might, shall rise to avenge their
wrongs? The snow-flake falls flcecily on the mountain's top
through many a long and silent night ; a land green as Eden
smiles over the volcano; through many a calm and sunny day
the electric flame gathers in the firmament 1 At length, when
least expected, the avalanche sweeps, the volcano bursts, the
red bolt strikes. France is the victim of many wrongs. Which
one of them shall prove the last drop in her cup of bitterness
we know not France is divided into many political sects, and
all but one aim at revolution. Which one of all shall it be to
set the ball of revolution in motion? The Legitimists, who con-
sider the Duke of Bordeaux the rightful heir, and Louis Philippe
a usurper ; the Bonapartists, who think they evoke the great
shade o Napoleon in the person of his unworthy descendant ;
or the old Republicans? As for the Conservatives, let them with
Guizot at their head, uphold themselves if they can, and let
the dynasties under Barrot and Thiers overthrow and succeed
their factional foes. Their petty quarrels we care not for.
Nor shall we, the Communists, ever suffer ourselves to be
deemed the revolutionary party; but the revolution once com-
menced, let us throw ourselves into its torrent, and with our
thoroizgh, perfect and secret organization, we cannot fail to
shape it most successfully to our own, our righteous ends. The
hour when revolution may commence we cannot predict, as it
U not our policy to start or precipitate it; but that hour may
come quickly. It must come on the demise of Louis Philippe,
uritich event cannot be long delayed, and it may be precipitated
100 EDMOMD DANTES.
before. Nor will France alone be convulsed As the news of
that old man's death, on the lightning's wing, spreads over
Europe, the electric wire will prove but a train passing through
repeated mines, which, one after the other, will explode with
awful devastation. Berlin, Vienna and St. Petersburg, the
strongholds of despotism in Europe, each will totter all but the
last will fall. The press is powerless on the Russian serf.
Russia will be the tyrant's last citadel. Italy will throw off the
Austrian yoke and be free. Gregory XVIII. will shortly die.
A wise, far-seeing and benevolent priest, named Giovanni Maria
Mastai Ferretti, born at Sinigaglia, and now a cardinal, with the
title of SS. Peter and Marcellinus, will succeed to the Papal See,
and Italy will be a republic; Genoa, Venice, Naples, Lotnbardy,
Piedmont and Sardinia will be sister yet sovereign states, form-
ing one union the constellation of freedom, the favorite scheme
of Napoleon's better days at last achieving reality. Switzer-
land, with her green hills and her field Morgarten, her priestly
despots expelled, shall also be free. But I weary you. Messieurs,"
" By no means," cried Marrast, cordially clasping M. Danles
by the hand. " I have listened in silence to your earnest exposi-
tion of the policy you suggest, and so truly do I subscribe to it
that, henceforth, I am your disciple and adopt your motto, ' Wait
and hope ' for my own. But it is nearly two o'clock. In an
hour the Chamber sits."
" And, meanwhile, Messieurs," interrupted M. Dantes, " I
know not that we can better employ ourselves, after so protracted
a seance, than to repair to Vefour's. This talking is hungry
work, and listening and thinking, which are by far more tedious,
are siill more so. So to Vefour's."
"The seance 'National' is closed" cried Ledru RoUin, laugh-
ing, as the whole company descended the gloomy stairs.
CHAPTER Xll.
THE MySTEWOUS PRIMA DONNA.
All fashionable Paris was excited over the announcement of
a new prima donna, whose wonderful achievements in Italian
opera had set even the exacting critics of Italy wild with en-
thasiasm and delight
T,Google
THE MYSTERIOUS PRIMA DONNA. 101
This great artiste was no other than rhe renowned Louise
d'Armilly. She had never before sung in the presence of a Paris-
ian audience, but her fame had preceded her, and it was ac-
cepted as certain that her triumph at the Academie Royale
would be both instantaneous and overwhelming.
She was to assume the role of Lucrezia Borgia, in Donizetti's
brilliant opera of that name, a role in which the enterprising
director of the Academie Royale assured the expectant public
that she possessed no equal.
For weeks every Parisian journal had been sounding her
praises with unremitfiiig zeal, and now her name was as familiar
as a household word in all the high society salons, where the
ladies and their gallants could talk of nothing but the api
preaching operatic event, while in the cafes and on the boule-
vards an equal degree of interest was exhibited.
Even the masses, notwithstanding the political agitation in
which they were involved, had caught the prevailing excite-
ment, and the leaders of the contending parties themselves
paused amid their heated discussions to talk of Louise d'Armilly.
The career of this young and beautiful artiste had been re-
markable. Her debut had been made at Brussels, about two
years before, in company with her brother, M. Leon d'Armilly,
and there, as well as at the theatres of Italy, La Scala, Argen-
tina and Valle, they had roused a perfect slorm of operatic en-
thusiasm.
The origin of this young artiste was veiled in the deepest
mystery. Rumor ascribed to her descent from one of the oldest and
most respectable families of France ; and domestic trials, among
which was a matrimonial misadventure, no less than the arrest
of an Italian Prince whom she was about to wed, on the bridal
night, as an escaped galley slave, were assigned as the cause
which had given her splendid powers to the stage.
At an earlier hour than usual for Parisian fashion never fills
the opera-house until the curtain falls on the second act the
Rue Lepelletier was crowded with carriages. La Pinon with
fiacres, and the Grande Bateliere and the passages to the Boule-
vard des Italiens with persons on foot, all hastening toward that
magnificent edifice, constructed within the space of a single
year by Debret, to replace the building in the Rue de Riche-
lieu ordered to be razed by the Government because of the
assassination at its door of the Duke of Berri, ia 1820 that mag-
102 EDMOND DANTES.
nifieent structure which accommodafes two thousands sptators
Among the first in the orchestra stalls were Beauchamp and
Debray, whose attention was divided between the stage and the
arrivals of splendidly attired elegantes in the different loges,
during the overture. All the elite of Paris seemed on the qui
" It will be a splendid house," observed Debray.
" The debutante, be she whom she may, should feel flattered
by such an unexampled assemblage of all the ton of Paris."
Orchestra, balcony, galleries, amphitheatres, lobbies and par-
terre were packed ; every portion of the vast edifice, in short,
was thronged except a few of the loges and baignoires, into
which every moment brilliant companies were entering.
" Who is that tall, dark military man, with the heavy mous-
tache, now making his way into the Minister's box?" asked
Beauchamp, after a pause.
" That man is no less a personage than the Governor of
Algeria, Eugene Cavaignac, Marshal of Camp," said Debray.
"He reported himself at the War Office this morning, and is
the lion of the house,"
"Ah!" cried the journalist; "and that is the hero of Con-
stantine I What a frank, open countenance, and what a dis-
tingue bearing and manner 1 "
" You would not suppose all that man's life passed in a camp,
would you?"
" His career has, I understand, been remarkable," said BeaU'
" Very. His father was a Conventionist of '92, a famous old
feilow, who, among other terrible things laid at his door, is
said to have pawned an old man's life, old Labodere, for his
daughter's honor; somewhat, you remember, as Francis I. spared
St. Valliar's life for the favor of the lovely Diana of Poitiers,
his only child. His aged mother is yet living, a woman of
strong mind, though seventy, and he does nothing without her
advice. His brother Godefroi's name was notorious as that of
a powerful Republican leader for years before his decease. A\.
eighteen Eugene entered the Polytechnic School. At twenty-
two he was a sub-Heutenant in the engineer corps of the second
regiment. In '28 he was first lieutenant in France ; in '29 he
was captain; in '34 he was in Algeria; and, in '39, his cool, bold.
^_ wb
THE MYSTElilOVS PRIMA DONNA. 1U3
fdecjded but discreet conduct had made him chef de bataillon,
despite the fact that he had incurred the Royal displeasure some
yean before by a disloyal toast at a banquet. In '40 he was
lieuieaant-colonel ; in '41 marshal of camp, and first commander
of dirision of TIemeen; in '43, he was conqueror of Constan-
tine, at the first siege of which I so nearly lost ray own valuable
head, and he is now Governor of Algeria, after service there of
fourteen years."
' And the tall and sinewy man beside him, presenting such a
contrast to Cavaignac, with his light complexion, gray hair,
and sulien and not very intelligent expression?"
*' Oh I that is General Bugeaud, by some deemed the real con-
queror of Algeria. But he's not at all, popular with the army.
His manners are simple and excessively blunt. He is a perfect
despot with his staff, 'lis said; yet he is quite a wag when in
good-humor, and, at Ministerial dinners, can unbend and make
himself as agreeable as need be wished. His voice is as harsh
Cossack's, and in perfect contrast to that of Cavaignac,
which is the richest and most musical you ever heard, yet dis-
let, emphatic and impressive."
[d incurred intense odium with the opposition for his
A severity as jailer of the Duchess of Berri, in '34,
and his killing Dulong in a duel, because of a deserved taunt on
the subject."
" Bugeaud did his duty," said the Secretary, " though a man of
his nature could hardly perform such a duty with gentleness.
Bugeaud is not a gentleman; he knows it, and don't try to seem
one. He is only a soldier. But th^re comes his very particular
foe ; General Lamoricierc. That magnificent woman on his arm
is his wife and the sister of the lady who fallows, with her
husband, the ex-Minisler, Adolphe Thiers."
" What A contrast ! " cried Beauchamp. " The tail and elegant
figure of Lamoriciere, in his brilliant uniform of the Spahis,
half oriental, half French, with his lovely wife, and the low,
swarthy little ex-AIinister in complete black, with his huge
round spectacles on his nose nearly twice the size of his eyes,
and a wife on his arm nearly double his .stature. Why, Thiers
reminds me of a Ghoul gallanting a Peri."
" And yet that same dark little ex-Minister has perhaps, in
many respects the mo5t powerful mind at all events, the most
Titilabia mind impellcj as it is by his restless Kaiiv^A^:NK''''W^
,Gi.)t.)'
g^
waj fae -wbrj prrj^caol c crtarDin ;: 3. cur^ ! rLUrre Arab
trvjiii, lie rte 3:?5 -jt Ertiic I-'ii: a^d he vas appointed
ttJfjati 'A tfae r:c r;gTni:r: if 5;a"-T-' Cter iiaoridaEn friend,
Uaxbailnn Mctrtf. ha a citrrnurd zi Ag negicMCl, and is a
fATjtege of Hi iUaitrfciCa eiemplar."
"The bostilitT bmi Lamcriciere scd Bcgcaod arises, I
Htppose, frotD the laKer's dertaable disposidoo. tis OTcrbear-
ia% and diclacorial teioper. Lamoridcre u noi a man, I take
h. to be the slave of any one."
" Rivalry in Africa is tbongfat to Iutc orisinated tfae feod,"
remarked Debraj', " and poUtkal differences in Paris to have
inflamed it Bugeaud is a Legitimist, and Lamoriciere a Re-
publican."
"Silence!" cried ihe raufica! connoissenr? in the orchestra.
A^ the curtain roFe a hnsh of expectation reigned over the
au'liirnce. The hum and bustle ceased, and silence most pro-
found succeeded. The appearance of the fair cantatrice was
ihc signal for such a reception as only a Parisian audience can
(five, and the first strains that issued from her lips assured them
that ihi'ir applause was not misplaced.
And surely never was the dark Duchess of Ferrara more
faithfully personated than by the present artiste. This vraisem-
hlaricc, which is so seldom witnessed in the opera, seemed to
Rlrikf fvi-ry eye. Her figure was tall and majestic, and volup-
liiHsly (IfVi'loptJ. Her air and bearing were haughty, dignified,
(itiil (luccn-likc. Her complexion was very dark, but perfectly
ch-ar ; her forehead broad and high ; her brows heavy, but
Krnci'fully arched; her eyes large, black and flashing; her hair
(Itirk M night, and arranged with great simplicity in glossy
baiiilH ; nnd her mouth large, but filled with teeth of pearl-like
i)]ilPiica, contrasted by lifs of coral wet with the spraj-, TbP
THE MYSTERIOUS PRIMA DONNA. 105
entire outline of her face vas Roman, and exhibited in its con-
tour and lineaments even more than Roman sternness and de-
cision ; and its effect was still more heightened by a large mole
at one corner of her mouth and the velvet robes in which she
was appropriately costumed.
The scene between the Duchess and the Spaniard, Gubetta,
was received with the utmost applause, and the pathos of that
between the son and his unknown mother, which succeeded,
touched the audience to tears ; but when the maskers rushed in
and her vizard was torn off, and her true name proclaimed, and,
amid her heart-rending waitings, the curtain fell on the first
act, the shouts were perfectly thunderous with enthusiasm. The
role of Gennaro was performed by the brother of the cantatrice,
Leon d'Armilly, a young man of twenty, of delicate and graceful
figure, and as decidedly blonde as his sister was brunette. Na-
ture seemed to have made a great mistake in sex when this
brother and sister were fashioned. Indeed, it seemed hardly
possible that they could be brother and sister, a remark con-
stantly made by the audience, and the kindred announced on
the bills was generally viewed as one of those convenient rela-
tionships often assumed on the stage, but having no more reality
than those of the dramatis personje themselves.
" A second Pasta ! " cried Chateau-Ren aud, entering the stalls
immediately on the descent of the curtain. " Heard you ever
such a magnificent contralto?"
"Saw you ever such a magnificent bust?" asked Beanchamp.
" Were it not for a few manifest impossibilities," thoughtfully
remarked Debray, " I should swear that this same angelic Louise
d'Armilly was no other than a certain very beautiful, very ec-
centric and very talented young lady whom we all once knew
as 3 star of Parisian fashion, and who, the last time she was
in this house, sat in the same loge where now sit the African
"Whom do you mean, Debray?" cried Beauchamp,
" A certain haughty young lady, who was to have married an
Italian Prince, but, on the night of the bridal, in the midst of
the festivities, the house being thronged with guests, and even
while the contract was receiving the signatures, the Prince was
arrested as an escaped galley-slave, and at his trial proved to
be the illegitimate son of the bride's mother and a certaiu hv%l\
legal fiHiftionai?', tht Proenreur 4^ Roi, wo'M tt 5KW*in,V^
CicKH^Ic
106 EDMOND DANTES.
through whose burning zeal for justice the horrible discover;
transpired."
" Ha ! " exclaimed Chateau-Renaud. " You cannot mean Eu-
genie Danglars, daughter of the bankrupt baron, whom our un-
happy friend Morcerf was once to have wed?"
"The very same," quietly reioined the Secretary; "but this
lady cannot be Mile. Danglars, I say absolutely, for many sulli-
cient reasons," he quickly added; then, as if to turn the coa-
versalion, he hastily remarked; "Ahl there are M. Dantes and
M, Lamartine, as usual, together."
' M. Dantes ! " exclaimed the Count, in surprise, looking
around. " Impossible ! "
" And yet most true," observed Beauchamp ; " in the third loge
from the Minister's to the right. What a wonderful resem-
blance there is between those men the poet and the Deputyl
One would suppose them brothers. The same tall and elegant
figure, the same white and capacious brow, the same dark, blad-
ing eye, the same ra.ven hair, and, above all, the same most
unearthly and spiritual pallor of complexion."
" No wonder M. Dantes is pale," said the Count. " Have you
not heard of the occurrence of this evening in the Chamber?
M. Dantes was in the midst of one of his powerful harangues
against the Government, when suddenly, in the middle of a
sentence, he stopped coughed violently several times, and
pressed his handkerchief to his mouth; then taking a small vial
from his vest pocket, he placed it to his lips, and instantan-
eously, as if new life had entered him, proceeded more elo-
quently than ever to the concUi^ion of his speech."
" I heard something of this," said Beauchamp.
"As he descended from the tribune his friends thronged
around him, anxious about his health. He quieted their ap-
prehensions with his peculiar smile of assurance, but I observed
that his white handkerchief was spotted with blood, and he
almost immediately left the Chamber."
"That man will kill himself in the cause he has espoused'
remarked Debray. '' See how ghastly he now looks. But so
much the better for the Ministry, He is a formidable foe. In-
deed, that loge contains the two most powerful opponents of the
Government."
" And who pre thosf men just entering thf box ? " aske4 Beait-
ebamp,
T,Google
THE MVSTERIOi'S PRIMA DONNA, 107
olher than the two rival aatroiioniers ot Europe," said
Dcbray, " and yet most intimate friends. The taller and elder,
the one with gray hair, a dark, sharp Bedouin countenance, and
that large, wild, black eye, with a smile of mingled sarcasm
and humor ever on his thin lip, is Emanuel Arago. The other,
the short, robust man, with fair complexion, sandy hair, bright
blue eye and vivacious expression, is Le Verrier, the most tire-
less siar-ga/er science has produced since Galileo. But hushl
"Oh! it matters not," said the Count; "only Gemiaro and
The Spaniard appear in the second act, and I have neither eyes
nor ears save for the Duchcas to-night. But who are those,
Beauchamp? "
' Where?"
"In the loge on the first tier, next to the Minister's and di-
:tly opposite to that ot M. Dantes?"
Ah ! two officers of the Spahis and two most exquisite
neii 1 " exclaimed Debray. " They belong, doubtless, to the
African party in the Minister's loge. Your lorgnette. Count.
What a splendid woman ! "
Hardly had the secretary raised the glass to his eyes before
he dropped it with the exclamation;
" A miracle ! a miracle ! "
"What?" cried both of the other young men, turning to
the box at which Debray was gazing.
" Messieurs, do you remember the fair Valentine de Villefort,
whose untimely and mysterious demise all the young people of
Paris so much bewailed, some two or three years ago, and whose
lovely* remains, we, with our own eyes, saw deposited in the
Saint-Meran and de Villefort vault at Pere Lachaise, one bitter
cold autumn evening, and there listened most patiently and
piously to a whole breviary ot mournful speeches, declarative
lOf the said Valentine's most superlative excellence?"
f" "Undoubtedly, we remember it well," was the reply.
I "Then behold, and never dare to doubt the reappearance ot
the dead again to the ocular organs of humanity."
"Valentine de Villefort I" exclaimed the Count, after a care-
ful and scrutinizing survey, " by all that's supernaiural ; and
more exquisitely lovely than ever 1 "
I " Then it was true, after all, the strange si'iry we heard,"
,Goei'
^
108 EDMOND DANTES.
said Beaucharap, " of the young lady's resurrection and marriage
to Maximilian Morrel, somewhere far away in parts unknown?"
' No doubt," replied the Count, " for, if I mistake not and
I'm sure I don't mistake, now that I look more closely that
stalwart, splendid fellow, with the broad forehead, black eyes
and moustache, and the order of the Legion of Honor on his
breast, to set off his rich uniform of the Spahis, and on whose
arm the fair apparition is leaning, is no other than Maximilian
Morrel himself the identical man who saved my worthless
neck from a yataghan in Algeria."
" How dark he's grown ! " said Debray.
' No more so than all these African heroes for instance, Cav-
aignac and Lamoriciere." ,
" But what a splendid contrast there is between the young
Colonel of the Spahis and his lovely bride, if such she be ! He,
dark as a Corsican ; she, fair as an Englishwoman he, up-
right as a poplar; she, drooping like a willow his hair and
eyes black as midnight, while her soft, languishing orbs are as
blue as the summer sky, and her glossy ringlets as brown as a
chestnut ! ''
"On my word," said Beauchamp, "the Count grows poetical 1
Morrel had better keep his beautiful wife out of the way! But
have you discovered who are the other couple in the box?" he
added to the Secretary, who had his lorgnette in most vigilant
requisition. "Any more discoveries, Debray?"
A sigh might have been heard as the Secretary took his glass
from his eye, and replied simply:
" Yes."
"And wlio now?" asked Chateau-Renaud. "There seems no
end to discoveries to-night."
" The young man who, by his decorations, seems a chef de
bataillon of the Spahis," replied Debray, " I cannot make out
But, be he whom he may, he is effectually disguised from his
most intimate friends by his luxuriant beard and moustache. As
for the lady there is but one woman in the world I have ever
had the good fortune to behold who could be mistaken for her."
"And that is?" said Beauchamp.
" Herself."
"And who is herself, Lucien?" asked Chateau-Renaud.
"Have you forgotten the Countess de Morcerf?"
"The Countess de Morcerf? the wife of the general who
THE MYSTERIOUS PRIMA DONNA. loa
a convicted by the peers of felony, treason and outrage in the
prtter of Ali Tebelen, Pacha of Yanina?" said Beauchamp.
''And who blew his brains out in despair?" added the Count.
* The same," said Debray. " She returned to Marseilles with
1 Albert. You remember Albert and his strange conduct
in the duel with the Count of Monte-Cristo? "
" One could hardly forget sucb chivalric generosity, such mag-
nificent magnanimity and such sublime self-control as were
exhibited by the young man on that occasion ! " said Beauchamp.
' It is to be hoped he was not equally forbearing toward the
Arabs in his African campaigns, although, as his name has
never been seen or heard since he entered the army, in all prob-
ability he was."
" Well, well," cried the Secretary, impatiently, " the Countess
retired to Marseilles, and there she is said to have resided in
utter seclusion, in company only with Morrel's beautiful wife,
devoting the vast wealth of the deceased Count to philanthropic
objects, having received it, as his widow, only with the uiider-
sl an ding it should be thus bestowed."
" But the rumor was," said Beauchamp, " and indeed I was
so assured by M. de Bovilie himself, Receiver- General of the
Hospitals, at Uie time, that the Countess gave all the Count's
fortune to the hospitals, and that he himself registered the
deed of gift"
" Oh! that was only some twelve or thirteen hundred thousand
francs," said Debray. " Three months after her settlement at
Marseilles, in a small house in the Alices de Meillan, said to be
her own by maternal inheritance, a letter came to her from
Thomson and French, of Rome, slating that there was a deposit
in their house, to the credit of the estate of the late Count, of
the enormous sum of two millions of francs, subject to her sole
control and order, as the Count's only heir, in the absence of
his son,"
L "Two millions of francs!" cried the two young men in a
Breath.
^" " Even so, Messieurs," said Debray. " The story does sound
rather oriental ; but I have reason to know that it is entirely
true, for t made diligent inquiry about it when last at Mar-
" And what took you to Marseilles, Lucien?" asked the Count
Lj^gnificantly.
^U Dinii,..davGuOjJw
110 EDMOND DANTES.
" The Ministry," replied Debray, with evident confusion, color-
ing deeply.
" But why does not the Countess marry again ? " asked
Chateau-Renaud, surveying her faultless form and face throu^
his glass. " In the prime of life, rich, and, despite her past
troubles, most exquisitely beautiful, it is strange she don't make
herself and some one else happy ! "
" Especially as no one could ever accuse her of having veij
desperately loved her dear first husband," added the journalist.
"Why don't she marry, Lucien?"
" How the devil should I know ! " replied the Secretary in
great confusion. " You don't suppose I ever asked her the
question, do you?"
" Upon my word," exclaimed the Count, laughing, " I shall
begin to think you have, if you take it so warmly. But, hist!
the belli The curUin rises. We mustn't lose the third act
of Donizetti's chef d'ceuvre, with such a Lucrezia, for any
But it was very evident that much of the magniiicent per-
formance of the debutante and her companion, in the thrilling
scene between the Duke and Duchess of Ferrara and the young
Captain Gennaro, was lost to the Secretary.
" Do you observe, Beauchamp, how strangely fascinated with
the new cantatrice seems the young officer of the Spahis who
accompanies the Countess ? " he whispered. " Do but look. He
sits like one transfixed."
" And the Countess seems transfixed also, though not by the
same object," was the reply. " How excessively pale, yet how
beautiful she is ! That plain black dress, without ornament or
jewel, and her raven hair, parted simply on her forehead, en-
hance her voluptuous charms infinitely more than could the most
gorgeous costume. Heavens ! what a happy man will he be who
can call her his!"
" Amen ! " said Debray, and the word seemed to rise from
the very depths of his heart. " But she will never marry.
Some early disappointment, even before her union with Mor-
cerf, has withered her heart, and the terrible divorce which
parted her from him, although she never loved him, will keep
her single forever. Her first and only love is either dead W
worse married to another."
"See, see, Lucien!" cried Beauchamp, hurriedly; "at whom
THE ITAUAN LOVER. lU
Pdoes she gaze so intently, and yet so sadly? It cannot be
Lamartine, for there sits his lovely young English wife at his
side; nor can it be old Arago, nor young Le Verrier; and
yet some one in that box it surely is."
' M, Dantes ? " cried Debray.
" Impossible I That man seems hardly conscious that there
arc such beings as women. His whole soul is in alTairs of
" His whole soul seems somewhere else just at present," ex-
claimed the Secretary, bitterly. " Look ! "
"How dreadfully pale he is!" said Bcauchamp; "and yet his
eyes fairly blaze. Is it the Countess he gazes at?"
"Is it M, Danles she gazes at?"
At that moment, amid the wild farewell of the mother to her
sou, upon the stage, the curtain canic down, and at the same
instant, M. Dantes hastily pressed his white handkerchief to
his lips, and, leaning on the arms of Lamartine and Arago,
hastily left the box.
" Ha ! the Countess faints I " cried Debray, as the door closed
M. Dantes. "Do they know each other, then?"
I
CHAPTER XIII.
THE ITALIAN LOVER.
It was early in the evening succeeding the day on which M.
Dantes had answered Giovanni Massetti's letter. Zuleika was
sealed in the vast, sumptuously- furnished salon of the magnifi-
cent Morcerf mansion, now, as the reader already knows, die
residence of the famous and mysterious Deputy from Marseilles.
She sat upon a superb green velvet-covered sofa, half reclining
in an indolent, picturesque attitude; behind the sofa and lean-
ing over its back stood a young Italian, a perfect model of
manly beauty ; his ardent black eyes were riveted on Zuleika's
blushing countenance with a look of the most profound and
enthusiastic adoration, while his hand held the young girl's with
a gentle, loving pressure, which was returned with unmistak-
able warmth. The apartment was dimly lighted and huge, som-
bre patches of shadow lay everywhere. Zuleika and tcx \c*.x
,Gl.)t.)'
g^
112 EDMOND DANTES.
were alone together ; for sometime they seemed too full of
happiness to speak, but finally Giovanni said, in a soft, flutelike
whisper, as if unwilling to break with loudly uttered words the
delicious spell of his love-dream:
" Zuleika, darling Zuleika, so you did not once forget me
during our long, cruel separation ? "
" Never for a single instant, Giovanni," answered the young
girl, the flush upon her cheek deepening as she spoke, her
hand tightening about her lover's and her lovely eyes filling with
a soft fire. " But I sometimes feared you had forgotten me I "
" You were always present in my mind and in my heart," re-
plied the Italian in a tone that thrilled her through and through.
Stooping, he placed his lips to her forehead and imprinted upon
it a long and silent kiss; then, flushing in his turn, he added,
still holding his head agajnst hers: "From the very moment
of our first meeting you have reigned in my bosom, my own,
my love, the queen of my destiny and my life ! "
" Oh ! Giovanni, Giovanni," murmured the young girl, " I am
happy, so happy ! "
He kissed her again, this time upon her upturned lips that
with a slight movement almost imperceptibly returned the kiss,
sending his blood tingling through his veins and causing him
to tremble with delight from head to foot. No longer able to
restrain himself, he hastily quitted the back of the sofa, threw
himself down beside her and clasping her in his arms drew her
unresistingly upon his bosom. Once there she did not offer to
stir, but even nestled closer to him and pillowed her head on his
broad shoulder. The tumultuous beating of both their hearts
was audible amid the unbroken silence that ensued. With one
hand the Viscount tenderly smoothed her silken tresses, and his
arm tightened around her waist as if he had determined never to
release her again.
"Your father, in his letter of this morning." said Giovanni
finally, " told me there was hope, that you did not look upon
my addresses with aversion, and that I had his leave to pay
court to you and ascertain your wishes from your own dear
lips. I hastened here this evening, and M. Dantes himself bade
me seek you in this salon. I came on the wings of love and
found all my fondest hopes realized; that I possessed your
heart as you possessed mine. Oh ! tell me, Zuleika, that this is
not all a dream, for it seems loo delicious to be true!"
THE ITALIAN LOVER. 113
" It is reality, Giovanni, blessed reality," answered the young
girl in a low voice.
"And do you really love me with all your soul?"
" With all my soul, Giovanni I "
The ardent Italian showered a flood of burning kisses upon
her forehead, cheeks and lips, and she qnivered like a leaf in
his embrace. Then he said, with a shade of anxiety in his tone :
" And your brother, Espcrance, is he disposed to look upon
me with approval? You know that in Rome he did not see
fit to include me in the number of his friends. We had a
little difference, you will remember, and ever afterwards he
was cold toward me."
Zuleika shuddered as she recalled the fact that the little dif-
ference alluded to had been a violent quarrel that had nearly
resulted in a duel between the two young men. She had never
known the details, for both her brother and Giovanni had
studiously concealed them from her ; indeed, Esperance had
carefully avoided all mention of the Viscount's name ever since
the day they had become embroiled. Was M. Dantes aware of
the trouble between his son and the youthful Italian? She did
not know, but, at the same time, felt firmly persuaded that her
father had fully investigated the doings, character and family
of her suitor, and would not have sanctioned a renewal of his
addresses to her had he not been perfectly satisfied in every
respect. She, therefore, answered :
"I am altogether ignorant as to what Esperance thinks of
you, and cannot say whether he still harbors resentment against
yon or not ; but, whatever may be his opinion and feelings, rest
assured that he will never interfere to cause his sister an in-
stant of unhappiness, more especially as he knows that my
father looks upon you with a favoring eye."
"But how about the coldness existing between us?"
"Does it still exist on both sides?"
" Not on mine, Zuleika, not on mine. I forgave and forgot
all long ago."
"Forgave and forgot F Then Esperance must have wronged
yonl"
" He did, Zuleika, and with the proverbial hot blood and head-
long impulses of the Roman youth I resented that wrong. But
I could not remain at enmity with the brother of the girl I
8
114 EDMOND DANTES.
loved, so when I became cooler I sought him out and en-
deavored to apolc^ize."
"And he accepted your apology?"
" He did not accept it, but turned on his heel and left me
without a word. He evidently thought me a coward and attrib-
uted my efforts toward effecting a reconciliation to a desire to
escape fighting him."
"But why did you quarrel in the first place? What was the
cause of the difference between you?"
The young Italian hung his head and did not answer, Zuleika
saw that he had grown deathly pale, and she felt his hand
tremble nervously.
Freeing herself from his embrace, the young girl sprang to
her feet and faced him.
" Giovanni," said she, firmly, " tell me the whole story of this
painful affair. It is imperative that 1 should know it!"
"Do you doubt me, Zuleika, do you doubt me?" he asked
bitterly, and he buried his face in his hands.
"Do I doubt you, Giovanni? No. But, if you love me, tell
me all the details of the trouble between my brother and your-
self?"
"I cannot, I cannot, Zuleika!" he cried. "Command me to
shed the last drop of blood in my veins tor you and I will do
it without an instant's hesitation, but I cannot tell you that
terrible tale of deceit, treachery and bloodshed!"
He had risen and was walking excitedly about the salon ; his
pallor had increased and he trembled in every limb.
Zuleika stood with folded arms and ga;!ed at him; she was
calm and her eyes had a look of determination the young man
had never before beheld in them ; it filled him with dismay. A
few moments ago she had been all love and tenderness, a yield-
ing, trusting maiden in her lover's arms; now, she resembled
a beautiful Amazon bent on achieving a victory, whom nothing
but unconditional surrender would satisfy.
"The story, the story," she repeated, "tell me the story!"
Her face was as white as marble and her faultless lips seemed
chiseled from stone. She looked so beautiful and tempting as
she stood there, her surpassing loveliness enchanced by the pic-
turesque half -oriental, half-Parisian dress she wore, that the
Viscount felt his passion for her redotxbletl. He flung himself at
T,Google
THE ITALIAN LOVER.
115
her feet and seizing the hem of her superb robe kissed i
rapturously,
" Oh ! Zuleika, Zuleika," he cried, utterly unable to re
himself, " ! am your slave I Place your tiny foot upon my
neck and crush me where 1 lie 1 I shall expire adoring you ! "
" Giovanni," replied Zuleika, greatly moved by this display
of devotion, " rise and be a man ! "
The Italian sprang up as if he had been struck by a thunder-
bolt; then he endeavored to clasp her in his arras, but she
quietly repulsed him.
"Zuleika," cried he, sadly, "you do not love me; you
loved me; I have been the victim of a cruel deception!"
" If you think so," answered the young girl, quietly, " there
is but one course you can pursue as a man of honor spurn
the deceiver from you and never look upon her face again I "
The young man gazed at her reproachfully.
"What have I done to turn you thus against me?" he asked,
his tone suddenly becoming humble.
"What have you done? You refuse to reveal this mystery
10 me, which, as you yourself admit, involves deceit, treachery
and bloodshed, and which, for aught I know, has set z
delible stain upon your life ! I love you truly, love you with
all the passion of a woman's nature, but I must know this his-
tory that I may judge whether you are worthy of my love!'
" I assure you, Zuleika, that there is no stain upon my life,
that there is nothing in this history that tends in the least t
dishonor me, but still I cannot speak."
" Then we must separate."
" Oh ! Zuleika, Zuleika, do not be pitiless ! You will drive
The young girl touched a bell and Ali, the Nubian, appeared.
" Monsieur is about taking his departure," said she t
faithful servant. "I leave him in your hands."
And without a word of farewell to Giovanni, she swept from-
the salon like a queen.
The Viscount ga^.ed after her with indescribable sadness pic-
tured upon his handsome countenance. Then he followed All,
put on his overcoat and hat and regretfully left the house;
tSuoalM
lis EDMOND DANTES.
CHAPTER XIV.
THE MINUTE VIALS.
Even to the Communists, with whom he had come into such
close contact, M. Dantes, the Deputy from Marseilles, remained
as much of a mystery as ever. Marrast, though now devotedly
attached to him, admitted that he was totally unable to fathom
either his designs, or his methods of accomplishing them, while
Lamartine, who was in his company a large portion of the time,
when questioned concerning him, replied that all he knew of
M. Dantes was that he was a firm friend of the cause and an
untiring worker in the interest of the weary and oppressed
Debray, though he had no tangible foundation for it, could
not get rid of the idea that the dangerous Deputy and the
Count of Monte-Cristo were one and the same individual, but
Beauchamp, with the usual incredulity of journalists, scoffed at
the notion, and Chateau-Renaud derided it whenever it was
mentioned in his presence.
That M. Dantes had great wealth was, however, generally ad-
mitted, though whence it was derived or in what manner it was
invested no one could tell. It was now no longer a secret that
he had purchased and resided in the magniiicent mansion for-
merly owned by the Count de Morcerf, in the Rue du Helder,
and this circumstance, while it vastly augmented the interest
attaching to him, did not in the least detract from the enthus-
iasm felt for him by the working classes.
It was night. In a large chamber, richly furnished, but dimly
lighted, in the mansion in the Rue du Helder, the same apart-
ment once inhabited by the Countess de Morcerf, motionless,
and seemingly lifeless, with a countenance as pale as alabaster,
and as still, lay M. Dantes, the Deputy from Marseilles. Al-
though, in the ashy pallor of the lips and brow, and the fixed,
serene, almost stern aspect of the immovable face, might be
read unmistakable evidence of an exhausting and dangerous
constitutional shock to the system, yet none of that emaciation,
over which broods the shadow of the angel of death, resulting
from protracted illness, was there lo be seen. The broad white
forehead the raven hair, sparsely sprinkled with silver the
THE MINUTE VIALS. 117
round temples the delicately penciled brow, encircling, like a
sable arch, the large and almond- formed eye the full calm lip,
and the chiseled chin and nostril all these were as perfect now
as when last before the reader. The cheek was, perhaps, slightly
sunken, but it could not be more pallid than when last beheld;
and but for the nameless quietude that " rapture of repose,"
as Lord Byron well expresses it that placid languor which
sleeps on the features, which illness always creates and which
spiritualizes and intell equalizes the most common features, the
invalid might be supposed to be enjoying the most quiet slumber.
Excepting the invalid, there was no one in that chamber save
the faithful Ali, who moved noiselessly about, from time to
time, or sat immovably upon the floor and gazed on his master's
pallid face.
As the silvery tones of the chamber clock tinkled forth the
third quarter after ten, the door opened, and a small, dark, thin
man, with large whiskers, keen, penetrating eyes, broad, bald
forehead, thinly covered with gray hair, and apparently about
fifty years of age, briskly entered. It was Dr. Orfila, a name
somewhat known in medical science. Approaching the bed, he
placed his fingers upr , the sick man's pulse, and gazed earnestly
on his face for some time in silence.
"Strange" he at length muttered; "the most powerful drugs
in the most unheard-of quantities are powerless ! Who, then,
is this iian, whose nature so differs from thai of every one else?
Can he so have accustomed his system to poisons, that, as with
the King of Pontus, they are ineffectual to help or to harm
him? His constitution must be iron! The vitality of a dozen
men is in him, or he'd have been dead a month ago. Well, it's
plain he's no worse. If He's no better. Drugs are useless, and
he must be iefi to nature and his amazing constitution. This
Stupor, this utter death of all faculties and senses for so long
a time, is wonderful. Fever, delirium, anything but this death-
like trance. It seems as if this man had been sleepless all his
life before, and that now his overwrought brain and heart were
compensating themselves for the toil and wakefulness of years.
Could 1 but excite the nerves I "
For some time the physician gazed in deep thought at the pale
face of the unconscious slumberer. Suddenly turning to the
Nubian, he said to him:
T,Google
118 EDMOND DANTES.
" AH, where does your masier keep the drugs be has been for
years accustomed to take?"
The Nubian stared in mute amazement, btit moved not from
" All," said Dr. Orfila, sternly, " imless 1 see and know those
drugs, this night your master dies."
The Nubian looked anxiously into the face of the physician,
and then, as if satisfied with the scrutiny, rose, and, with noise-
less steps, left the room. In a few moments he re-entered and
placed in the physician's hands a small casket of ebony, ex-
quisitely worked and studded with gems. Taking it hastily to
the shaded lamp upon a table at the extremity of the chamber,
he attempted to open it, but his attempts were vain. Indeed,
to all appearances, t was a solid block of ebony, and its ex-
treme heaviness, compared with its dimensions, seemed to favor
the idea.
"Well?" said the doctor, returning the casket, after a close
scrutiny, to the Nubian, who had followed him.
Ali took the casket, and instantly a portion of the top flew up,
disclosing within the center of the cube ot ebony a cavity lined
with crimson velvet, and a dazzling array of minute vials of
crystal, each filled with a fluid pink, blue, green and yellow in
hue, while the contents o several were colorless. The Nubian
had touched a spring concealed in the carving, and known only
to his master and himself.
The physician removed the minute vials one after another
from their receptacles, and held them up to the light; on
each was a cipher, and on no two was the same. Most of them
were quite filled with the fluid contained, but some were only
half full, while one was nearly empty. Dr. Orfila looked closely
at the cipher upon each vial as he removed it from the casket.
He then held it to the light to determine its particular hue or
shade, and sometimes withdrew the crystal stopper ground into
the deep mouth, touching it cautiously and quickly to his nostril
or the tip of his tongue. " Morphia, cinchonia, quinia, lobelia,
belladonna, narcotina, bromine, arsenicum, strychnos, colubrina,
bruccEa ferruginea," muttered the savant, as he examined one
vial after the other and replaced it. " Bructea ferruginea ha I
brucine I I thought as much," exclaimed he, holding up the vial,
which showed, by being nearly empty, that its contents had been
used more frequently than those of any of the others.
.GcKigle
THE MINUTE VIALS. 119
" How many drops of this is the greastest number your master
has ever taken?" asked Dr. Orfila.
The Nubian, who, it will be remembered, was a mute, held
up both hands with the fingers outspread, and then two other
fingers of one of his hands.
" Twelve drops ! " cried the astonished physician. " Impos-
sible 1 "
All insisted on the assertion.
" And yet it must be so," the doctor added. " That would
explain all."
Taking the vial and a minute crystal vessel, which he found
in the casket, he hastily but carefully dropped into the latter
thirteen drops. Then filling the vessel with water, he approached
the patient, who still slumbered heavily on, and placed it to his
lips. For an instant he seemed conscious of the wish of the
physician, and with an effort the mixture was swallowed. Then
he lay as still and motionless as before.
Returning the vials and the vessel to their places, Dr. Orfila
closed the casket and gave it to the Nubian. He then gazed
long and anxiously at the torpid slumberer, standing at the bed-
side and watching that marble face.
At length the clock struck eleven. Dr. Orfila started and
hastily glanced at his repeater; then turning to the Nubian,
who had carried away the casket, and, having noiselessly re-
turned, stood silently beside him, he said :
"All, in one hour your master will be in high fever; in two
hours he will, probably, be delirious. He will then sleep soundly,
and toward morning will wake, I hope, in his right mind, but
terribly exhausted and profusely perspiring. At daylight I shall
be here. You must not leave hiro for a single instant as you
value his life."
The Nubian clasped his hands above his head and bent his
forehead almost to the floor,
" It you think necessary, however, AH, send for me before
morning."
The physician gave one more look at his patient, pressed his
fingers on his pulse, placed his palm on his forehead, an4 thep,
dicing his l;at i(nd cane, left the chamber.
T,Googie
120 EDMOND DANTES.
CHAPTER XV.
THE UNKNOWN NURSE.
When the rumor that M, Dantes had been taken seriously
ill was lirst circulated throughout Paris, it caused excitement
in every quarter of the city, iilhng the Communists and workmen
with dismay and greatly elating their opponents.
In the midst of the excitement a strange iady, very plainly
attired, but whose language and bearing gave unmistakable evi
dence of refinement and aristocratic associations, made her ap-
pearance one morning at the otlice of Dr. Orfila and humbly
asked permission to nurse his distinguished patient. The phy-
sician, somewhat surprised at such a request from such a
woman, immediately grew suspicious and demanded an ex-
planation, when the lady informed him that she had known the
sick man in his youth and was still deeply interested in his
welfare. She refused to give her name, but solemnly assured
the doctor that, should he grant her petition, M. Dantes on his
recovery would be ready to thank him on bended knees.
Convinced at length that no harm was intended, the physician
gave his permission and the unknown lady was duly installed as
nurse. She discharged her duties with unflagging devotion and
energy, satisfying even the exacting Nubian, with whom she
divided the watch at the bedside of the unconscious deputy. Dr.
Orfila was delighted, while Esperance and Zuleika were over-
On on the sleeper still slumbered on ! One two three
four quarters after eleven tinkled in silvery numbers upon the
delicate bell of the clock, yet the closed eyelids and fixed lips
moved not, gave no sign ; but for the light, though regular un-
dulation of the chest, life itself might seem to have fled forever.
Yet life was still there!
How strange the bond which connects vitality with conscious-
ness the body with the soul ! And yet more strange is that
phase of existence in which the one moves on without the other.
The mind sometimes is all life when the body is dead, and oftener
still is the body all life when the mind seems gone. Mind, too,
may frequently act independently, not only of the body, as m
dreams, but, also, of consciousness and of the heart; while the
body, as in somnambulism, may act altogether alone.
THE UNKNOWN NURSE. 131
On^K)n-^he slumberer breathed on, but he thought not, felt
not. perceived not. A revolution, an earthquake might heave
around him, but the convulsive throes of man or of nature
would have been as nothing to him. The brow would have re-
mained as calm and as cold, and the cheek as pale and as still,
while, in all human probability, the faithful Nubian would have
sat as immovable upon his rug at the bedside of hvs beloved
master, and have gazed upon him as untiringly with his dark
and sleepless eye.
As the last quarter after eleven sounded, followed immediately
by the hour of midnight, a small door beside the bed noise^
lessiy opened, and a female figure in while silently entered the
room; but not so noiselessly was the entrance effected as to
escape the ear of the vigilant Ali. He glanced hurriedly around;
then, as if familiar with the apparition, and anticipating its
approach, he rose, and, takic^ his rug to the further extremity
of the chamber, again laid himself down, like a faithful dog,
though not now to watch.
Meanwhile the lady, quietly approaching the bed, gazed long
and mournfully at the slumberer's pale yet noble visage; then,
kneeling, she buried her face in her hands amid the coverings.
She was, probably, forty; yet, in the full and faultless per-
fection of her form in her graceful and yielding motions in her
statuesque bust, rounded cheek and night-black hair, she would,
to the casual observer, have indicated hardly the half of that
age. Her figure was tall and dignified, yet mobile as a willow;
her eyes were dark and luminous, and, in their profound depths,
slept a world of melancholy meaning. Her hair was simply
parted on a broad forehead, and was gathered in heavy masses
low on the neck. Her lips were full and red, and, when parted,
exhibited teeth of dazzling whiteness, while her complexion,
which was very dark, was yet clear and pure as the hue of the
magnolia's petal But that face was fale, very pale, almost as
colorless as that of the quiet sleeper at its side, and upon it
rested an expression of love unutterable, mingled with the
sadness of death.
Such was the unknown nurse, the Countess de Morcerf, as
she again was an inmate of that apartment of which she had
once, under circumstances how different, been mistress; such
WW Mcrc^dis, the Catalsne of Marseilles, again at the side
188 EDMOSD DASTES.
of the num whom all her life she had loved, with none to
gainsay or forbid!
Upon that pale and moticmlcss countenance she gazed long
and deeply, and, oh I the world of memory that passed through
her mind! the world of thought and feeling that centered in
that fixed gaze! At length, clasping her hands upon her fore-
head, her eyes streaming with tears, she bowed her face upon
the bed, from which she had just raised it, and long seemed
absorbed in prayer.
Roused from this position by some movement of the slimi-
bered, she started up and watched him.
The shaded rays of the dim and distant lamp threw a faint
glimmering of light upon the pale countenance, but the quick
eye of love instantaneously detected a change. A slight flush
was mounting the check, and gentle perspiration was dis-
tilling upon the brow, while a smile played on the mouth. Sud-
denly, as she gazed, those pallid lips moved. Astonished, she
listened.
" Marseilles ! beautiful Marseilles ! " said the sleeper. '* Home
of my boyhood, home of my heart. I come ! " Then quickly and
sternly came the order, "Let go the anchor- ^furl the sails
mate, take charge of the ship ! " Then the tones changed, and
a joyful light shot over the face as the lips exclaimed, " Now
for my father! now for my love! Mercedes! Mercedes!"
Amazed, the fair watcher retained her position, and gazed and
listened so silently and breathlessly that the quick and audible
beatings of her heart might have been numbered.
" Mine mine at last ! " continued the dreamer. " The mar-
riage-feast the marriage -feast ! " But instantly the expression
of the voice and the countenance altered. The light of joy was
shrouded in clouds. "Arrest arrest me?" was the exclama-
tion " me 1 at my marriage -feast. A dungeon for me ! Mer-
cedes ! Mercedes ! My love my wife I Oh ! God ! it is the Cha-
teau d'lf 1 Despair despair ! "
Shocked, terrified at the terrible energy of these words, and
the expression of unutterable woe that rested on the coun-
tenance of the sleeper, the affrighted woman, who comprehended
but too well the fearful significance of the abrupt and disjointed
syllables, hastily arose as if to rouse the slumberer from his
dream or to call on the Nubian for aid.
Pvt, before the cou}4 carry the purpoie into execution, tt)e
THE UNKNOIVN NURSE. 123
aspect of the Deputy's visage again had changed. A dark
frown settled on the brow, a spirit of fixed resolve contracted
the firm lip and dilated the nostril, and the word, " Vengeance
vengeance ! " in whispers scarcely audible, but repeatedly and
rapidly pronounced, was heard.
A longer silence than before succeeded. At length another
change swept over the face, and the words, " Free free I
am free ! " burst from the lips ; then they murmured, " Treasure
untold! wondrous wealth I diamonds pearls rubies ingots of
gold I The mad abbe's dream was reality ! " Again the coun-
tenance darkened. " Fourteen years in a dungeon for no crime !
a father dead of starvation ! a bride the bride of the fiend who
has done all this and he a peer of France and his friends a
millionaire of Paris and the Procureur du Roi I Vengeance-
vengeance vengeance I " There was a pause, and the dreamer
ejtultingly continued, " It is done ! The peer of France is a
disgraced suicide ! The Procureur du Roi is a madman ! The
banker is a bankrupt ! " The dreamer again paused, and his
countenance once more changed. "Alas! alas I man is not God!
'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord!' The inno-
cent suffer with the guilty. To avenge a wrong has been sac-
rificed a life, and only misery has been the recompense I No
more no more no more of this! Man and man's happiness
be henceforth the aim ! To that be devoted wealth uniold I "
The lips ceased to move. Gradually the high excitement of
the features passed away and was succeeded by an expression
of sadness and love, " Haydee gone gone to a better world.
Mercedes Mercedes oh! does she love me yet? The long
lost idol of my heart ! the adored angle of my hfe I come !
As the dreamer spoke, he spread wide his arms ; when his
eyes opened, and his long slumbering senses returned, Mercedes,
his own Mercedes, was, indeed, clasped to his breast.
" Mercedes ! Mercedes ? " he faintly whispered. " Ah ! it
was no dream, for you are, indeed, beside me and mine mine
forever ! "
" Thine thine forever ! " was the reply, and she clasped his
feeble form to her heart as she would have clasped that of
a child.
T,Google
EDMOND DANTES:
CHAPTER XVL
On the night of Monday, February 21st, 1848, all Paris was
at the house of M. Gaultier de Rumilly, in the Avenue des
Champs Ely sees. M. Gaultier de Rumilly was well known
as one of the leaders of the extreme left, though the conlidendal
friend of M. Odillon Barrot, and the fete was perfectly under-
stood to be a political reunion, rather than a social one. All
the accompaniments of the most splendid society events of the
season were in requisition. Even the brilliant balls given by the
opulent citizens of New York were eclipsed in luxury and
splendor. There was the streaming of lamps and chandeliers,
the swell of enchanting music, the whirl of the fascinating
polka, redowa or mazurka, while throngs of richly attired and
lovely women were constantly enhancing the magnificence of
the scene by their arrival. The brilliancy of the occasion was
also richly diversified by the presence of an unusually large
number of officers of the Municipal and National Guards in
full uniform, as well as of several belonging to the Line or
the regiments of Algeria.
It was about ten o'clock. Within, all was light, life and love-
liness; without, the winter wind moaned drearily through the
leafless trees of the Boulevard, and the drifting sleet swept
along the deserted streets. It was a wild night. Throughout
all Paris seemed going forth a portentous murmur, like that
mysterious moaning of the ocean, which, with mariners, is the
prelude of a storm. An ominous whispering, as of many voices,
seemed to sink and swell on the sweeping night blast; then all
was still. Again, in the distance, would rise a sharp shout, ot
the stern, brief word of military command. At intervals, also,
one might imagine he heard a deep rumbling, as of heavy ord-
nance and its tumbrels over the pavements, accompanied by
the measured iread of armed men and the clattering hoofs of
cavalry horses. Then these sounds died away, and along the
narrow streets of Paris again the night wind only swept, the
bitter blast howled and the ominous whispering, as of spirits,
rose and fell.
It was a strange and stormy night murky and chilly while
A NOTABLE FETE.
13S
intervals the cold rain dashed down in cutting blasts. But
within the magnificent mansion of Gaultier de Rutnilly all was
light and loveliness, as has been said. The splendid salons were
already thronged, yet crowds of richly-attired guests were con-
slanlly arriving.
"Hal Beauchamp, just come?" cried Chateau -Ren and to his
friend, as he entered.
"By the grace of God, yes I" said the journalist. "What a
I wight I "
" What a throng of men and women say rather ! " was the
reply.
"Very true. Who's here?"
" Ask who's not here, and your question may be easily an-
fwered. All Paris is here! Women of every age and station,
rd men of all political creeds Conservatives, Dynasties. Le-
gitimists, Republicans and Communists. Indeed, this soiree seems
to me, and I shouldn't wonder if it were designed so to be, a
general re-union of the leaders of all the great parties in France,
a compare notes and learn ihe news."
" And there is news enough lo learn, it would seem. Is M.
tantSs here?"
is, or was, and his beautiful wife, too, the most magnifi-
|cent woman in Paris. Morrel also is here with his fair bride."
"And who is that dark, dignified man in the Turkish costume,
BTOund whom the ladies have clustered so inquisitively?" asked
: Deputy.
"Why. that's the Emir of Algeria, the famous captive of the
puke d'Aumale," was the reply.
' What ! Abd-el-Kadcr ! How comes he here? "
" Oh ! as a special favor, I suppose ; he has a respite from his
tad prison."
" What a splendid beard, and what keen black eyes ! "
his eyes arc decidedly gray, but so shaded by his
extraordinary lashes that they seem black. They say that he was
more distinguished as a scholar, in Algeria, than as a soldier.
statesman or priest. In fact, he is as erudite as an Arab can
be, and his library, which is contained in two leathern trunks,
reompanied him in all his wanderings prior to his submission."
" And what think you really induced him to surrender him-
If?"
" Policy of the deepest character, and worltv^ oi T'^'cj'^^sA,
riii-,i-,Goeit^le
13 EDMOND D ANTES.
Mettemich or Nesselrode, if we are to rely on the eloquent
speech of Lamoricicre in the Chamber, the other day."
" I remember. Bugeaud spoke first, and Lamoriciere followed.
He thought that the Arab Curtius leaped into the gulf because,
by so doing, he was convinced he could injure French interests
more than by his freedom. Well, perhaps he was right He
bids fair to be a hard bone of contention between the opposi-
tion and the Ministry."
"If I mistake not, Lamoriciere disclaimed aQ responsiinlity
for accepting the surrender, and placed it on the Governor-Gen-
eral, the young Duke, for whom the Ministry is liable?"
"Yes; and Guizot announced that he would send the Emir
back to Alexandria, could security be given against his re-
turn to Algeria."
" As to the Emir's surrender, at which you wonder, the real
cause is said to have been not policy, but the universal passtoo
' He is an Antony, then, instead of a Curtius."
" So it seems. At the moment when, with incredible eflorts, he
had effected the passage of the Moorish camp, and was off
like an ostrich for the desert, the firing of the French, who had
reached his deira, struck his ear. Back he flew like the lamieL
Twice his horse fell under him dead twice he was surrounded
and seized, and twice, by his wonderful agility, he regained bis
freedom. At last, perceiving that all was lost, he turned his
face again toward the desert, and, for two days and nights,
continued his flight. But his heart was behind him. Certain
of escape himself, he preferred hopeless captivity with her be
loved, and he returned."
" Quite poetical, on my word. Worthy of Sadi, the Arab
Petrarch, himself I" said Chateau-Ren a ud.
" He is decidedly a great man, that Abd-el-Kader. They say
he bears his misfortunes like a philosopher or, better, a
Turk unalterably mild and dignified, while his wives and his
mother wail at his feet. Every morning he reads the Koran lo
them, and during the orisons all the windows are open, and a
large fire blazes in the center of the room."
" He is a decided godsend to the quidnuncs of Paris." I
" So would be a Hottentot, or a North American savage,' I
replied Beauchatnp, [
T,Google
A NOTABLE FETE. 13T
"Rather a different affair this from the Ministerial soiree
' 2 week ago, I fancy," remarked the editor.
" Rather. 1 will confess to you, Beauchamp, I attended that
soiree from curiosity to see whether M. Guizot retained his
habitual placidity of manner amid the clouds every day thick-
Ecniiig around him."
"And what was the result?"
" Why, this. He was as polite and courteous as ever, and
: cold, imperturbable smile was on his thin lip ; but
vhe looked careworn, and upon his countenance was ati ex-
1 of solicitude, when it was closely watched, which I
never saw there before. Ah, Beauchamp, I envy not the
premier!"
"And the guests?" asked the journalist.
"Of guests there were but few; and the spacious salons of
; Hotel des Affaires Etrangeres looked dismal and deserted."
" The lovely Countess Leven "
I " Even she was absent."
"And the Countess of Dino?"
" Absent, too."
"The soiree must have been, indeed, dull without those
'charming queens of intrigue,' as Louis Blanc courteously calls
^^Miem. But tell me, Count, is the Minister really the husband
^^Bi the beautiful Leven, or is she only his par amours?"
^^B " No one knows. It is certain, however, that the great man
^^BSevoles to the enchantress every moment he can steal from
^BVhe State, though to look at him one would hardly suppose him
^Bfli lover, in any meaning of the term. But who knows? To
read his writings can one imagine a purer man? But, then, the
affairs of Gisquet, Cubieres, Teste, and, last and worst, Petit,
whose case was before the Chamber, do they not betray deplor-
able lack of firmness or morality? But no more of this. Who
is that dark, splendid woman to whom young Joliette seems so
devoted? 1 have seen them together beforel"
" Why, you surely have not forgotten Louise d'Armiily, the
charming cantatrice! She has recently left the boards, to the
irreparable loss of the opera, having come into possession of an
immense inheritance some millions, it is said, left by her
father, who was once a banker of Paris. She is asserted to
very accomplished and very ambitious, and, a& \feR -jtwEBi
i^
D,Q,i^=iT,Goo^
128 EDMOND DANTES.
African paladin is thoroughly bewitched by her, and she by him,
they will, doubtless, be matched as well as paired."
"Has Lucien been here?" asked the Deputy, after a pause,
during which the young men surveyed the brilliant throngs thai
passed before them and returned the salutations of their ac-
quaintances.
" I think not He have not met, at least," replied the jour-
nalist
" He can hardly be spared to-night, I fancy. The Ministry
have had a stormy day, and are, doubtless, preparing for one still
more stormy to-morrow."
" There was a perfect tempest in the Chamber this evening,
1 understand."
" Call it rather a hurricane, a tornado I "
" Ah ! give me the particulars ; here, come with me into this
comer. Unfortunately, I was not present. I was busy on the
General Committee for the Banquet of the Twelfth ArrondissC'
ment, to*morrow, at ChailloL To avoid all possibility of colli-
sion with the police, we resolved, you know, not to have the
banquet within the walls of Paris, and so there is to be a pro-
cession to the Barriere de I'Etoile. I have been there since
morning, and reached the city only in time to come here. So,
you see, I am edifyingly ignorant of the latest news."
" Then I have to inform you that there is to be no banqaet
after all."
"No banquet! Why, I thought it was compromised between
Guizot and Barrot that the banquet should be allowed to pro-
ceed under protest, in order that the question might be brought
before the Supreme Court."
" Such was the purpose, but a manifesto of the Banquet Com-
mittee, drawn up by Marrast, it is said, and, at all events, issued
in ' Le National ' this morning, declaring the design not onlj
of a banquet, but of a procession, changed everything. The
address sets forth that all invited to the banquet would as-
semble at the Place de la Madeleine to-morrow at about noon,
and thence, escorted by the National Guard, and accompanied
by the students of the universities, should proceed by the Place
de la Concorde to the Arc de Triomphe, at the extremity of
the Avenue des Champs Elysees, and thence to the immense
pavilion on the grounds of General Shian. Only one toast, 'Re-
form, and the right to assemble,' as amwivmced to be drunfc
A NOTABLE FETE.
|nd ihcn a commissary of police could enter a formal protest
he whole proceeding on the spot, on which to base a
^1 prosecution, and the muhitude would dit'perse."
" A very sensible mode of procedure," quietly remarked tlie
''journalist, "and one eminently calculated to relieve your friend
Guizot aiid my friend Garrot from the awkward dilemma of a
" But so thought not my friend Guizot. Like his oracle, the
sage Montesquieu, he thought, ' Who assembles the people causes
them to revolt.' He took fright at the manifesto, as he was
pleased to dignify tile simple programme in this morning's
' National,' and so, early in the sitting, it was announced that
K^e reform banquet was utterly prohibited by M. Delesser^
Prefect of Police, on the express injunction and responsibility
'. Duchatel, Minister of the Interior, by and with the advice
%fi M. Hebert, Minister of Justice."
"Hal and what said Odillon Barrot?" cried the journalist
why he said nothing at all, but immediately retired at
i head of the opposition from the Chamber."
"To consult?"
" Of course. An hour after they returned in a body two
indred and fifty strong, with Barrot at their head, wlio at
t mounted the tribune and denounced the despotism of the
Ministry in forbidding the peaceful assembling of the citizens,
without tumult or arms, to discuss their political rights.
Duchatel replied, under great excitement.
' Shall reform committees dare to call out the National
t their pleasure?' he asked.
I "'Will you dare to call out the National Guard?' retorted
JeCourlais, fiercely. ' Only try it ! '
"'The Government of France will never yield!' rejoined the
ifjnisCer, pale with fury.
[ " ' Speak in your own name. Monsieur I ' shouted Flocon.
' 'I shall never speak in yours ! ' was the answer.
I play the game of menace I ' cried Lesseps.
' ' The Govenimcnt will never yield ! ' again vociferated
Khatel.
' ' Those were (he very words of Charles X. 1 ' observed M.
mtes, sternly. The entire left responded in a terrific roar.
' ' There is blood in those words ! ' shouted Ledni Rollin,
"The Goveniment will never yield!' the Minister qC i\B.
,Got.it^le
130 EDMOND DANTES.
Interior for the third time vehemently exclaimed, and the right
gathered around him. ' This is worse than Polignac or Peyro-
net I ' vociferated Odillon Barrot, his trumpet tones rising above
all others Hke a clarion in a tempest. Those hated names were
greeted by a yell of abhorence perfectly savage from the left;
then all was uproar a dozen voices simultaneously shouting at
their loudest denunci at ion men ace defian ce retort clen ched
hands extended arms furious gesticulations every one on lip-
toe fiery eyes stamping feet shouts of 'Order! order 1 order!'
and, amid all, the incessant tinkling of old Sauzet's little
silver bell, which was just about as effective in restoring peace
as it would be to quiet the tempest now howling through the
streets of Paris. At length, in utter consternation and dismay
the old President put on his hat, and, pronouncing the seance
ended, rushed from his chair amid a hurricane of uproarious
"And Odillon Barrot?"
" Odillon Barrot led the opposition members immediately from
the Chamber to his own house, where they have been ever since
in deliberation. It was six o'clock when the sitting closed,
and they must be in consultation now, or Barrot would surely
be here, if but for a moment, out of respect to his bosom friend,
our host. Ah! there he is, just entering, surrounded by a
perfect army of Republicans De Courtais, Marrast, Lesseps,
Duvergier, Flocon, Lamartine, Dupont and a whole host be-
"How excited ihcy look!" exclaimed the journahst. "Ah!
Thiers approaches them from the other end of the salon ! "
" M. Thiers, like the worldly-wise and selfish man he is, has
held himself aloof from the banquet, and even declined the in-
vitation accepted by a hundred of his party; to-day he was
absent from the Chamber and to-night from the conclave, all
with the aspiring, yet vain hope, that the King will send for
him to form a Ministry,"
" And yet, in the Chamber, a few days ago, he said that he
was of the party of the revolution in Europe."
" True, but he added that he wished the revolution carried
on by ils moderate supporters, and that he should do all he
could to keep it in the hands of the moderate party."
" ' But if it should pass into the hands of a party not mod-
erate,' continued the crafty ex-Minister, 'I shall not abandon
r A NOTABLE FETE. Ul
I the cause of the revohition. I shall be always of the party of
L the revolution.' But sec, he singles out Marrast, of all others!"
I " And his old coUeagne of ' Le National ' seems to give him
I no very cordial reception," added the Deputy. " But let i
I move up and hear the determination of the opposition relative
I to the banquet,"
I " That's the very question the little historian has just pro-
I pounded to the great journalist. Now for the answer."
I "The opposition decide, Monsieur, to abandon the banquet,"
I was the angry reply of the editor to the ex-Minister,
1 " Indeed I " was the bland rejoinder ; " and has a manifesto
I of this decision beer issued to the people?"
\ "It has; and it instantly called forth a counter manifesto from
I the electoral committee of the Twelfth Arrondissement, express-
I ing very natural astonishment that, at the same time the op-
I position abandoned the banfjuet, they had not abandoned their
r seats in the Chamber, and inviting them so to do at once,"
I "And the Ministry?" anxiously asked M. Thiers;
I " Will to-morrow be impeached. Monsieur I "
I " Ah ! indeed ! indeed 1 " cried the smart little aspirant, glee-
I fully nibbing his hands.
F At that moment General Lamoricierc, the brother-in-law
Thiers, who owed so much to the house of Orleans, hastily
approached.
" I come straight from the Tuileries," he said with consider-
able excitement. " General Jacqueminot has just issued an order
of the day, a^i commander-in-chief of the National Guard, ap-
I pealing to them as the constitutional protection of the Throne
^ to take no part in the !anquet. Orders have, also, been issued
' for the rap pel to be beaten at dawn, in the Quart ier St.
llonore, the scene of the contemplated procession. But it's
all folly to rely on the National Guard. They are of the people.
Only the Municipal Guard and the troops of the Line can be
relied on in the civil eonfiict, which is sure to come to-morrow."
I "And the Ministers, what do they?" asked Thiers.
" Oh ! they are not idle," replied the soldier. " The bastilles
are armed, and those of Montroiige and Aubervilliers are pro-
visioned. The horse-artillery at Vtncennes are ready, on
instant, to gallop into the capital. Seventy additional pieces of
ordnance arc now entering the barricrcs. The Municipal Guard
ere supplied wiih ball-cartridges. The troops concentrated ol
,Gl.)t.)'
^
133 EDMOND DANTES.
sunrise to-morrow will not be less than one hundred thousand
strong. With these men in the forts and faithful, the city can
be starved in three days, National Guard and all, if rebellious.
Now is the crisis in which to test the remarkable admission
of M. Duchatel, in May, '45, thai the bastilles of Paris were
designed to * fortify order,' We shall see, we shall see ! "
" And the Marshal Duke of Islay where is he?" quietly
asked Marrast, with a significant shrug and smile.
At this mention of his bitter foe, a frown lowered on the fine
face of Lamoriciere, as he briefly and sternly replied ;
" Wilh the King. Monsieur General Bugeaud is with the
King. But they mistake, Monsieur. Eugene Cavaignac is the
man for this emergency. Bugeaud is a soldier a mere soldier
Cavaignac is a statesman a Napoleon ! Paris will discrimin-
ate between the iwo one day, and that shortly."
And wilh an abrupt military salute the conqueror of Algeria
walked away, followed by his little brother-in-law, who seemed
yet shorter and more insignificant at the side of his towering
and graceful form. At the same moment, Ledru Rollin en-
tered in great agitation, and, having glanced hastily around,
as if in search of some one in the assemblage, advanced straight
to the journalist and grasped his hand.
" By heavens, Armand, I think the hour has arrived ! "
"Whence do you come?" was the quick question.
" From the Boulevards, where I left Flocon, Louis Blanc and
M. Dantes, with the people. I tell you, Armand, the people
are ripe ripe ! The Ministerial ordinances prohibiting the ban-
quet have kindled a flame wherever they have gone. The piti-
ful manifesto of the opposition and the counter manifesto of
the Twelfth Arrondissement have only served to fan this flame
into fury. It has been our care to restrain and direct, not to
excite. It is dark and cold without, Armand; the winter wind
howls dismally along the streets, the sleet freezes as it falls and
the furious blast almost extinguishes the torches by which, at
the corners and at the cafes, the different manifestoes of the
day are being read to the eager throngs, on whose faces, in the
flare of the blood-red light, can
hearts. The people, at length, ,
will be in arms ! "
While Ledru Rollin was thus speaking, Louis Blanc entered
and qu]et\y approached, courteously saluting his acquaintance)
A NOTABLE FETE. 133
IS way, and stopping to exchange a few words with Madame
I "Dantes, who inquired with considerable anxiety for her husband.
"I have this moment left him, Madame," said Lonis Blanc.
I " Be assured, he is safe and well. Ah ! how glorious to be an
jbjeet of solicitude to one like you!" he added, with a smile.
The lady smiled also, and olfered an appropriate jest in reply
I to the gallantry of the distinguished author, as he moved on
3 join his friends.
" The Ministry provokes its fate ! " he said in a low tone,
I as he approached. " ' Whom tile gods would destroy, they first
niake mad.' These men suffered seventy reform banquets ail
over France. The seventy -first one they prohibit, and that,
too, by the exhumation of an old despotic edict of 1790. This
IS exactly what we would have. It was the first, not the last
banquet they should have suppressed. Barrot was right to-
I day, in the Chamber, when he said that had this manifestation
;en suffered the people would have become tranquil."
Tranquil, indeed 1 " cried Ledru RoUin. " That's exactly what
Rwe have apprehended! No no it is too late! This Reform
ft Banquet was, at tirst, but an insignificant thing. In it we now
[ recognize the commencement of a revolution. The various aii-
and postponements of this banquet have caused
[ an agitation among the masses favorable to our wishes, and
; threats and obstinacy of the Ministry have completed the
L-work, The hopes, fears, doubts and disappointments attending
^ihis affair have put the mind of all Paris in a ferment, and
excited passions of which we may take immediate advantage."
" Aye ! " cried 1-ouis Blanc, " we may now do what I have
I always wished and counseled we, the Communists, may now
take advantage of a movement, in the origin or inception of
which we had no hand."
" Tnie, most true I " observed Marrast ; " this is the work of
I (he Dynasties Thiers, Barrot and the rest the commencement
of a reform under the law which we design to make a revolu-
tion paramount to all law."
" They begin to fear already that they have gone too far,
those discreet men ! " said Louis Blanc, smiling bitterly. " Did
you observe how they shuffled lo-night at M. Barrot's, and finally
resolved to abandon the banquet, but, as a sop to the people,
pledged themselves to impeach the Ministry?"
"Abl ha! ha!" laughed Ledru S.oU\n; " Ss.i's. te ^S- *=
,G(-t.)t^le
134 EDMOND DANTES.
abandonment of the banquet is to keep the people away from
it to-morrow, any more than the Ministerial ordinances! Why,
not one man in ten thousand knows of the existence of these
manifestoes! But the faubourgs have been promised a holiday
for a fortnight past, and they don't intend to be put oS again."
" Whether the Dynasties designed or wished to be compromised
in this aSair," remarked Marrast, " they certainly are committed
now, and it is too late for them to get out of the movement.
Indeed. I view it as nothing less than a union of all the op-
positions against the Crown aye, against the Crown, and for
a republic! We comprehend this they don'L They have
. not, like us, waited seventeen years for a signal for revolution;
and now, before God, I believe the hour is at hand! This
is no accidental insurrection of the sth and 6th of June, '32
no outbreak at a funeral no riot of operatives no unmeaning
revolt, as in '3g. It is a reform, with the first names in France
as its advocates and supporters, which we will make a revolu-
tion if we can secure the National Guard."
" The National Guard is secured already," said Louis Blanc.
"Are they not of the people? At least twenty thousand of
the National Guard are Republicans. Of the remaining forty
thousand, nearly all are well disposed or neutral in feeling.
Have I studied the National Guard for twenty years in vain,
and have all the measures of the Communists to secure them,
when the crisis came on, proved utterly ineffectual? On the
National Guard we may rely. The Municipal Guard are picked
men, and well paid to support the Throne they will fight even
better than the Line. With the Line and the National Guard
the people must seek to fraternize from the beginning with the
other troops they have solely to fight but, after all, general
facts and principles only can be laid down. Circumstances
utterly beyond human control must direct and govern, and vary
and determine results when the period of action arrives ; and
arrive it may at any hour of the day or night. At this mo-
ment Paris sleeps on a volcano, the fires of which have long
been gathering through many a fair and sunny day ! God only
knows when the volcano will burst ; but, when the hour comes,
let the people be prepared!"
As these enthusiastic words were uttered, the dark eye of
the speaker flashed and his lip quivered. The silver clock on
!/ie mantle, beside which the conspirators stood, struck the first
A NOTABLE FETE.
las
The night was waning, but the festivity
than diminish within the salons of the
while the storm howled even more drearily
ilcrvals, in heavy blasts, beat even
I
Ktpiarter after two.
ucd rather
I tnagnilii
without, and the
more fiercely against the northern c
As I..ouis Blanc ceased speaking, M. Flocon entered the salon,
and, as if by some preconcerted arrangement, at once sought his
political friends.
"What ot the night, watchman?" cried Ledru Rollin, as the
editor of "La Reforme" approached. "The late.st news! for
' That of an hour's age doth hiss the speaker.' as the English
Shakespeare says. The news 1 good or bad I "
" As I entered," said Flocon, " the house trembled with the
jar of a train of heavy ordnance, attended by tumbrels and
artillery caissons, and escorted by a regiment of horse, which
rolled along the pavement of the Champs Elysees."
" Good 1 " answered Marrast, with enthusiasm.
" All night," continued Flocon, eagerly, " through darkness
and storm, whole regiments of infantry have thronged the line
of boulevard.'! which stretch from the Tuileries to Vincennes, and
each soldier bears upon YAs knapsack, in addition to all his
arms, an axe to demolish barricades. The garrisons of the
Bfrondissements ot Paris are already seventy thousand strong;
and the troops of the Line are concentrating around the Palais
Bourbon and the Chamber of Beputies."
" Excellent most excellent ! " joyfully exclaimed Louis Blanc.
The affront will not be wanting! But where is M. Dantes?"
" He is still with the chiefs ot the faubourgs and the cora-
the Rue Lepelletier,
Messieurs, that
;ood cause puts the bold-
iiidctatigable energy and
ighl about a systematic.
IS of the Free-masons and workn
I issuing his last instructions for the
[ man is a magician ! His zeal in ihe .
if us all to the blush. By most
ni table perseverance, he has brc
St scientific organization and fralernily, through various
I modes of rapid intercommunication between the innumerable
ft classes of operatives of every description throughout the whole
capital and its faubourgs, so that, within six hours, he can
in military array an armed mass of one hundred thousand
I blouses upon the boulevards. The workshops alone, he tells me,
I furnish fifty thousand. The rapidity with which he con-
's intelligence through this immense atvn^ a.w4 "Ociw vKi.m.
,Got.)tjle
130 EDMOND DANTES.
subservience to his will and subordination to his orders are
all so wonderful that it is impossible to determine which is
most so. To control a Parisian populace has hitherto been
deemed a chimera. With M. Danles il is an existing reality.
Not an army in Europe is so obedient or so prompt as his army
of workmen. The secret is this they know him to be their
friend. All over Paris are to be seen his workshops, savings
banks, hospitals and houses of industry and reform, and, in
the suburbs, his phalansteries and his model farms. That he
has the command of boundless wealth is certain ; but whose it
is, or whence it comes, no one can divine ; and never did man
make use of boundless wealth to attain his ends more wisely
than he does! Why, I am told that the pens of half the littera-
teurs and feuilletonists of Paris have for years past been guided
by his will and compensated from his purse to accomplish his
purposes. ' The Mysteries of Paris ' and ' The Wandering
Jew ' are but two of the triumphs of his policy. And his system
of philanthropy seems not bounded by France, but to embrace
all Europe. The Swiss Protestant and the Italian patriot have
each felt his effective sympathy as well as the French work-
man ; and in the same manner as with the operatives so has he
obtained influence and weight with the National Guard, and to
such an extent that of the sixty thousand one-half would obey
his orders with greater alacrity than those of Jacqueminot him-
self. I tell you. Messieurs, he is a magician ! "
"Hush! hush" cried Marrast; "he is entering now!"
"He pauses and looks around him!" said Louis Blanc.
" ITe looks for us; I will go to him!" remarked Flocon.
"He looks for his wife," replied Louis Blanc. "There, he
catches her eye. See how eagerly she flies to him ! "
"That is the finest pair in Paris," remarked the journalist.
" And the most devoted," added Ledru Rollin. " They have
been man and wife for some time, it is said, and any one
would take them for lovers at this moment."
"Have they children?" a^ked Flocon.
" No ; but M. Dantes has by a former wife a son and daughter,
who rival in good looks, the celebrated children of our friend
Victor Hugo," returned Louis Blanc.
"I met Arago, Lamartine, Sue, Chateaubriand and some
other ce/eJ)ritics at his mavi^irm m \\\e 'Rwt du Helder one night,
A NOTABLE FETE.
137
Bjrecenlly," continued Marrast, " and I thought 1 never saw a
piouse arranged with such perfect taste. The salons, library,
I picture-gallery, ca))inet of natural history, conservatory, and
f ilaboratory were superb everything, in short, was exquisite."
\ " And then one is always sure to meet at Madame Dantes'
Boirees," added Louis Blanc, " exactly the persons who, of all
BHDtbers, he wishes to see, and whom he would meet nowhere el.sc,
KifMcts, painters, authors, orators, statesmen and artists of every
description in fine, every man or woman, whether native or
W foreigner, distinguished for anything, is certain to be met with
rat M. Dantes house."
W- " I once met there," said Flocon, " Rachel, the actress, and
Van Amburgh, the lion-king,"
B " M. Dantes is a perfect Mxcenas in encouraging merit, as
every one knows," remarked Marrast; "and he manifests
B^^ecial solicitude to show that he appreciates worth more highly
^^n wealth^enius than station. Poverty and ability are sure
Recommendations to him."
W " Madame Dantes is, I am told, as devoted lo the good cause
I as her husband," remarked Flocon.
[ " She is a second Madame Roland ! " e:claimed Louis Blanc.
, " France will owe much to such women as she and her friend
Madame Dudevant ! "
" She differs greatly from Madame George Sand in some
respects, I fancy," said Marrast; "but, if she at all rivals that
wonderful woman in devotedness to the cause of human rights,
whether of her own sex or ours, she deserves well of France.
In her charities, it is notorious, she has no rival. Half the
Mdicants of the capital bless her name, and she is at the head
a dozen associations and enterprises for the amelioration of
e condition of the destitute, suffering and abandoned of her
" Upon my word. Messieurs," cried Ledru Rollin, " your prai.ses
&f M. Dantes and Madame, his beautiful wife, are perfectly en-
Icnow M. Dantes only as o
cauc. and a man who, for
an aposlle of man's rights,
That's enough foi
" Bui who r
ally
your zeal, you utterly forgot
n so unfortunate
of the great pillars of our
irly six years, has proven himse
d ready, if need be, to become
le to know of him!"
ites and his wife?" -asWi^wti
hle
.,Gl.)t)'
g^
138 EDMOND DANTES.
"Who really are any of us?" laughingly rejoined Louis
Blanc.
"Who really is any one in Paris," continued Marrast, "the
blood-royal always and alone excepted?"
" Of M. Dantes this only is known," said Louis Blanc, " that
for five or six years past he has been a Deputy from Marseilles,
Lyons and other southern cities, all of which have been eager
to honor themselves by returning him as their representative, as
one of the boldest and most eloquent Republicans in all France;
as for Madame Dantes, we know her to have' once been the
Countess de Morcerf, but now the wife of our friend, and one
of the noblest and most lovely matrons in Paris. What need
have we to know more? But our friend conies."
While this conversation was proceeding, Dantes and Mer-
cedes had joined each other, and their hands were quietly
clasped.
"Is all well, Edmond?" was the anxious inquiry of the fond
wife, in low, soft, musical tones, as she fixed upon his pale
face her dark eyes, beaming with the tenderest solicitude.
" All is well, love," replied the husband. " Vou will pardon
my protracted absence, when I tell you it has been unavoidable
will you not, Mercedes?"
"Will I not? What a question! But I have been so anxious
for your safety, knowing the perilous business in which you are
engaged ; and the night is so tempestuous."
" You forget that I have a constitution of iron, dear," replied
Dantes ; " you forget that I was a sailor once, and the storms
were my playthings ! "
" But you will go home with me now, Edmond, will you
not?" she anxiously asked, placing her little white hand on his
arm and gazing beseechingly into his eyes.
"Have I ever passed one night from your arms, my Mer-
cedes, since we were wed ? " was the whispered response. " Ah !
love, any pillow but thy soft bosom would be to me a thorny
one ! You have spoiled me forever ! " he added, smiling.
"And shall we go now, Edmond?" eagerly asked the delighted
woman. " Oh ; I'm so weary of this fete ! "
" I must exchange a few words with our friend Louis Blanc,
whom I see yonder, with others of our party, and then, dear,
we trill to our pillow. We are both weary. Au revoir! "
A NOTABLE FETE. 130
" Edmond Edmond ! " cried the lady, as her husband was
going, "do you see Joliette and Louise in the redowa yonder?"
Dantes looked and, with a well pleased smile, nodded assent ;
a more brilliant and well-matched pair could hardly have been
I found, Joliette in the splendid uniform of an officer of the
i^ahis, and she in her own magnificent beauty, fitly garbed.
I M. Dantes was received with marked respect by the knot of
Republicans as he approached.
I "1 am delighted lo meet you all, and to meet you to-night, or,
nther, ihis morning," said Dantes, warmly, "in order that I
Jnay render you an account of my stewardship for the past six
hours. They have been hours big with fate; and the first day
of Republican France has already commenced. Messieurs, we
can no longer remain blind to the fact that the long looked
for hoped tor expected hour has come the hour to strike
strike home for liberty and for France 1 To-morrow the streets
of Paris will swarm with blouses! the Marseillaise will be heard!
barricades rise ! the Ministry be impeached ! Next day the
National Guards will fraternize with the people ! blood will
flow! the Ministry resign! On the third, the King abdicates!
the Tuilerics are surrendered ! a Regency is refused I a Re-
public is declared ! And this day, two weeks hence, liberty will
be shouted in the streets of Vienna and Berlin, and every throne
ill Europe will tremble ! The honors of prophecy are easily
won," continued the speaker, with a significant smile that lighted
up his features, pale with enthusiasm and exhaustion, " when
the problem of seventeen years approaches solution with mathe-
matical certainty I "
"Are our plans all complete?" asked Louis Blanc.
KSo far as human forethought or power could render them
our efforts have, I trust, been effectual," was the reply. "Vet
events of every hour will induce changes, and render indis-
in^iisablc policy now undreamed of. Ah I Messieurs, we must none
of us sleep now ! Not a moment must escape our vigilance !
Not an advantage must be sacrificed ! We can afford to lose
nothing! Without leaders, the people are blind! Not, for an
instant, must they be abandoned ! To-morrow, let the masses
gather at different points ! Next day let barricades choke the
Boulevards ; and, if the conflict come not, be it precipitated
I provoked ! Thursday, an hundred thousand men must invest
tile Tuiluries, and a Provisional Govcmmtvw. W iwiastCi "-to. "Sat
E
,G(-)t.)t^le
140 EDMOND DAi\'TES.
Chamber of Deputies ! The Bourbons will then be in full flight,
and France will be free 1 And now, Messieurs, will you permit
me to suggest the propriety of our separation? Yonder Min-
isterial Secretary has had his eye upon us ever since he entered."
The expediency of the sitggestion of M. Dantes was at once
perceived; the conspirators parted and one after the other, by
different routes, shortly disappeared. As for M. Dantes, he
threw himself carelessly in the way of the Ministerial Secretary
to whom he had alluded, who was no other than our friend
Lucien Debray, and saluted him with most marked and win-
ning courtesy.
" Will the Ministerial Secretary suffer me to compliment him
upon his indefatigable industry and exertions to-night to fortify
order in Paris and sustain the administration ? "
Debray bowed somewhat confusedly at this remark, and hav-
ing returned a diplomatic reply, from which neither himself
nor any one else could have elicited an idea, M. Dantes con-
tinued the conversation.
" Let me see, it is now nearly three o'clock," he said, con-
sulting his repeater; "at half-past two you received an order,
signed by the Duke of Montpensier, and directed to the War
Ministry, commanding that scvenly-two additional pieces of
artillery be transported from Vincennes to Paris before dawn.
That order was issued, and the ordnance is now on the boule-
" How ! " exclaimed the astonished Secretary.
" At Vincennes, the horses of the flying artillery stand har-
nessed in their stalls I All night infantry have been pouring into
Paris, and, obedient to midnight orders, every railway will dis-
gorge, at dawn, additional troops ! "
"Are you a magician?" asked the astonished Secretary.
" Shall I reveal to you the Ministerial tactics for the mor-
row's apprehended insurrection?" coolly asked Dantes, with a
smile. " The salons of the Tuileries have not been deserted
to-night. ' Can you quell an insurrection. General ? ' asked the
King of the Marshal Duke of Islay. ' I can kill thirty thousand
men,' was the humane answer. ' And I, sire, can preserve order
in Paris without killing a score,' said Marshal Gerard, the hero
of Antwerp, 'if I can rely on my men.' 'What is your plan.
Marshal?' asked the King. Shall I give you the Marshal's reply,
my friend? "
T,Google
A NOTABLE FETE. 141
" You were present you know all ! " exclaimed Debray.
" Not quite all," thought Dantes, " but I shall before we part.
Well," continued he, aloud, " the Marshal's strategy was this
exceedingly simple and exceedi[;gly efficacious, too, provided, to
use the Marshal's own words, he can rely on his men. It is
this; Occupy the Tuileries, the Hotel de ViUe, the Halles, the
Louvre and other prominent points with a heavy reserve of
infantry and artillery, and sweep the boulevards, and the Rues
St Honore, de Rivoli, St. Martin, St. Denis, Montmartre and
Richelieu with cavalry. A simple plan, is it not? Almost as
simple as that of the insurrectionists themselves a barricade on
every street and one hundred thousand men in the Place du
Carrousel ! "
"The Government will not yield, Monsieur!" said Debray,
firmly. " The Minister is unshaken. To crush an unarmed mob
cannot severely tax the most skillful generals in Europe."
" True, they are unarmed," returned Dantes, with apparent
seriousness. " Their leaders should have thought of that arms
are so easily provided but then they can rely on their men ! "
" We have yet to see that ! " replied Debray, with some as-
" True, we have yet to see it. It is only a matter of belief
now ; then it will be a matter of knowledge. Seeing is knowing,"
added M. Dantes, with his peculiar smile. " But, pray, assure
me, M. Debray, are the Ministry and their advisers, indeed,
sanguine of the issue to-morrow I "
" They are certain ! " replied the Secretary, with energy. Then,
feeling that he had, perhaps, made a dangerous revelation, he
quickly added; "I have the honor. Monsieur, to wish you a
very good night ! It is late ! "
" Say, rather, it is early, Monsieur ! " replied Dantes. " I
have the honor to wish you a very good morning!"
The Secretary returned the courtesy, turned away, and, after
exchanging a few words with M. Thiers, disappeared.
" They are certain, then ! " soliloquized M. Dantes, as De-
bray quitted the salon. " 1 was sure I should know all before
he left"
Then, rejoining Mercedes, who was patiently awaiting him,
they stepped into their carriage, as the drowsy tones of the
watchman rose on the misty air. " Past four o'clock, and all
T,Google
EDMOND DANTES.
CHAPTER XVII.
Tuesday, the 22nd of February, the birthday of the immortal
Washington and the first of the Three Days of the French
Revolution of 1848, broke darkly and gloomily on Paris. The
night had been tempestuous, and the wind stil! drove the sleet
through the leafless trees of the Champs- Ely sees and howled
drearily along the cheerless boulevards.
The streets were dismal, desolate and deserted. Here and
there, however, through the gray light of the winter dawn,
could be caught the semblance of a figure closely muffled,
whether for concealment, disguise, or protection from the biting
blast was doubtful, stealing along; these figures often met and
exchanged ominous signs of recognition.
"Is the procession still to take place?" asked one of another
of these persons, pausing for an instant as they hurried along.
" Yes ! " was the emphatic answer. " Dupont, Lamartine and
the sixteen others who are faithful are resolute."
"And the rendezvous?"
"Is the Place de La Concorde."
"And the hour?"
Whereupon the conspirators parted.
Gradually the number of persons in the streets increased as
the morning advanced. Chiefly, these were artisans, lads, blouses
and workmen.
"Whither so early this disagreeable morning?" cried a peace-
able-looking shopman of the Rue de Rivoli, who was taking
down his shutters for the day, to a friend who was hurrying
by.
" I don't exactly know where I am going," was the reply,
" We were all roused at daybreak in the Quartier St. Honore by
the rappcl, and so I happen to be awake."
"And are the National Guard turning out in good numbers?"
" No. They don't turn out at all. The drummers arc fol-
lowed by a crowd of gamins in blouses, who shout Vive la
Relorme and sing the Marseillaise."
T,Google
ii
THE REVOLUTION BEGINS. 143
The National Guard don't turn out ! " cried the alarmed
shopmen; "(hen I'll not lake down my shutters!"
And as his (riend moved on to the Madeleine, he took the
precautionary measure he had spoken of.
nine o'clock troops were in motion a!) over Paris, and the
f the drum was heard in every street.
At ten o'clock ten thousand men were assembled at the Madc-
" Is there to be a banquet? asked one of another, as they met
on the Rue Royale.
" No. It is a procession. The people are to march to the Cham-
^^ ber of Deputies and sing the Marseillaise."
^L All the avenues to the Palais Bourbon and part of the Place
^B around Che Madeleine were now occupied by the ztst Regiment
^Kof the Line and mounted Municipal Guards. Before the Cham-
^^Mcr of Deputies was marshaled a squadron of dragoons, and a
^^Rnttalion of the 69th Regiment of Cuirassiers stood ready to
^Hft^iargc on the throng;.
^1^ At eleven o'clock two thousand students in blouses from the
Parthenon were joined by an immense column of workmen from
the faubourgs, and, having fraternized in the Place de la Gm-
corde, advanced in perfect order in procession, led by National
Guards, shouting the Marseillaise acid the Hymn of the Girondins.
Slowly and solemnly moved the vast mass up the Rue Royale
to the Pont de la Concorde, leading to the Place of the Chamber
of Deputies.
At twelve o'clock the vast arena between the Chamber of
{ and the Madeleine contained thirty thousand people.
Along the railing of the church was drawn up a regiment of
A man in a tri-co!ored sash three times read the sum-
ind ordered the crowd disperse.
The order is disregarded ! The charge is sounded I The dra-
rgoons rush with sheathed sabres on the mass 1 Again and again
they charge, but they cut down none 1
AH at once a heavy cart with a powerful horse is discovered
the people seize it the horse is lashed into fury he rushes
on the double line of dragoons and chasseurs a breach is made
the crowd dash through some rush up the steps of the Chamber
of Deputies they force the gales they even enter the hail
then, suddenly panic-stricken al their own audacity, they rush
I back 1 At this moment, along the Quai d'Orsay, gallops up i
,Goeit^le
144 EDMOND DANTES.
strong detachment o the mounted Municipal Guard, led by
General Peyronet Tiburce Sebasiiani, brother of the Marshal
and uncle of the unhappy Duchess of Praslin. A charge was or-
dered, the crowd was driven over the bridge, and the Municipal
Guard, a company of dragoons and a squadron of hussars took
up a position at the foot of the Obelisk of Luxor. " Long live
the dragoons!" shouted the people. "Down with the Municipal
Guard!" accompanied by hootings, groans, shouts and showers
of stones. The troops, with sheathed sabres, charged. One of
the immense fountains afforded the gamins a place of shelter.
Suddenly the flood of water was let on and they fled.
Thus began the revolution.
One o'clock tolled from the tower of the Madeleine. The
area was clear. Cavalry patrolled the boulevards. Infantry,
bearing, besides their usual arms, implements for demolishing
barricades axes, adzes and hatchets each soldier one upon his
knapsack, followed.
At two o'clock, at the Hotel des Affaires Etrangeres, at the
comer of the Rue des Capucines and the Boulevard, an immense
mass of men ebbed and flowed like tides of the sea, and a tem-
pest of shouts, groans and choruses to national songs arose.
A commissary of police in colored clothes, aud with the tri-
colored sash, led a body of Municipal Guards into the court.
Deliberately they charge their muskets with ball. " In the name
of the Law I" shouted the commissary. "Vive la Ligne!" re-
sponded the people, as ihey slowly retired.
" Away," cried a trooper to a blouse, in the Place de la
Concorde, at the corner, near the Turkish Embassy; "Away,
or I'll cut you down ! "
" Will you, coward ! " replied the artisan, calmly, with folded
arms. At that moment a body of the people rushed on the
Municipal Guards and drove them for safety into their barracks ;
then Ihey fled themselves to avoid the fusillade of the enraged
troops.
On the Pont de la Concorde the people stopped the carriage
of a Ministerial Deputy and saluted him with groans. The
next moment Armand Marrast, of "Le National," approached
and was most rapturously cheered.
The money-changers, those seers of Napoleon, scented not yet
the revolution. On Friday, the three per cents, were 7Sf. 8sc.
On Tuesday they opened at 73f. 90c. and closed at 74f.
THE RESOLUTION BEGINS. 145
The day advanced. The Republican and Communist power
augments in its systematized order. Paris swarms with insur-
gents. Bakers' and gunsmiths' shops are plundered. Barri-
cades are thrown up. A column rushes down the Champs-
Elysees, and, having been repulsed at an escalade of the railings
of the Chamber of Deputies, retires, shouting the Marseillaise
and a chorus from the new opera of the Girondins, " Mourir
pour la Patrie." At dusk a deputation of students, at the office
of " Le National," presents a petition for the impeachment of
the Ministry.
That impeachment had already taken place I
"What news?" shouted a student to a workman, as he hur-
ried along.
"There has been fighting in the Faubourg Sl Marceau; half
a dozen Municipal Guards have been carried wounded to the
hospital of Val-de-Grace and a captain was killed."
" And is i! true that the Guard has been disarmed on the Rues
Geoffroi and Langevin, and a gunmaker's shop near the Porte
St. Martin broken into and rifled?"
" I hadn't heard of that," was the hurried reply. " But I hear
this, that the guard-houses in the Champs-Ely sees have been
taken, and the troops driven off. and that lamps and windows
have been torn down."
At that moment another workman rushed along,
"The news!" shouted the student and the first workman.
" The railing of the Church of the Assumption has been torn
away by the people to supply arms ; two women of the people
have been crushed by a charge of the Municipal Guard ; the
shop of Lepage, the armorer, in the Rue Richelieu, has been
entered by means of the pole of an omnibus used as a battering
ram ; and barricades rise on the Rue St. Honore."
At three o'clock a column of the people dashed down the
boulevards, smashing lamps and breaking shop windows. In
the Rue St. Honore and the Rue de Rivoli an omnibus and
two carriages were seized to aid in erecting a barricade. A
guard-house in the Champs-Elysees was burned. The troops at
the Ministry of Foreign Affairs were increased. No one was
sulTered to pass. A Municipal Guard was dismounted and nearly
killed by the people. The crowd in the Rue Royale had become
so dense that it was impossible to pass to the P\as.ft. 4fc \a, Oavv-
corde. The troops charged. The people gave "wa.^. 'Siqiq^ njw*^
H6 EDMOND DANTES.
wounded badly; but still rose the shouts, "Vive la Lignet Down
with the Municipal Guard ! "
In the Race Vendome stood a regiment of the Line. There
was the hotel of M. Hebert, the Minister of Justice, and M.
Hebert was hated by the people. " Down with Hebert, the in-
ventor o( moral complicity ! " yelled the populace, but they made
no attack.
It was ten o'clock at night. Many of the shops were closed,
but the cafes and restaurants were thronged. From time to
time the shouts, " Down with Guizot I " and " Vive la Reiorme ! "
were heard and, also, the roll of drums as a body of troops
passed along; knots of individuals gathered around the doors
of bakers' shops, and, while they eagerly ate their bread and
sausage, as eagerly denounced Guizot and the Ministry,
But all was comparative order in Paris.
CHAPTER XVIII.
THE MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE.
It was twelve o'clock at night, on the S3nd of February,
1S48.
Lights still gleamed in the vast edifice of " Le National "
printing office, and in the editorial chamber were assembled .
the chiefs of the revolution.
"All goes well," said Louis Blanc. "The blow is struck;
let it only be followed up, and the efforts of the past ten
years will not prove vain!"
" How true was the opinion of M. Dantes respecting the
National Guard!" said Marrast.
" How true also respecting the workmen! " said Albert.
" How true respecting the Ministry! " said Lcdru Rollin.
"But where is M. Dantes? Why is he not here?"
\i that moment the private door opened, and M. Dantes,
Flocon and Lamartiiie entered.
"The news from the Chambers!" cried Marrast, as they
approached.
"Three impeachments of the Ministry have been pro-
posed," said Lamartine.
T,Google
k
THE MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE. 147
"By whom by wliom? " asked Louis Blanc. "By whom
presented? "
"One by Oiliilon Barrot, one by Dwergier d'Hauranne
e by M de Genoude, Deputy from Toulouse."
"And what said Gi/ot?" asked Marrast.
"Nothing. He only laughed when the papers were handed
1 by old President Sauzet."
" cried Ledru Rollin.
" Few depulie"; were there," continued Flocon. " The oppo-
sition benches were vacant. Giiizot was there early, pale
and troubled, but slern and unbending. All the Ministers
^followed him."
, "What was discussed?" asked Marrast.
: Bordeaux Bank Bill."
L "Ah!" cried Ledru Rollin again.
' continued Flocon, "until five o'clock that bill was
Bscussed, Barrot then ascended the tribune and deposited
t general proposition to impeach the Ministry,"
f "And what was done with St?" asked Louis Blanc.
\ "The President raised the sitting without reading it, but
announced that the bureaux should have it for examination
1 Thursday."
" Infamousl " cried Ledru Rollin.
as it should be," said M. Dant&s, calmly.
I "And the peers what of them?"
quis de Boissy made an effort to get a hearing
of Paris, but, of course, it was in vain."
," asked Flocon, " that the rappel has been beaten
-day? "
5 beaten in the Quartier St. Honore, at dawn," said
LUC, ' and this evening, at about five o'clock, in sev-
^fenl of the arrondissements. But no reliance need be placed
tin the National Guard. They are with ns they are of the
people they shout, 'Vive la Reforme!'"
"But Ihe Municipal Guard and the Line? I am told that
an immense body of them was this evening, at about eight
^^o'clock. reviewed by the King and the Dukes of Nemours
^dnd Montpensier, in the Place du Carrousel," said Flocon.
^Br"That's true," sale] Ledru Rollin; "I witnessed it myself
^^Bb passing, and T could not help saying, ' It is the last.' "
^^V "Six thousand troops of the Line arc on the boulev3.tU..
.,Gl.)t)'
^
148 EDMO.Wn DANTRS.
from the Madeleine to the Porte St. Martin," said M. Danles.
"The Hotel de ViUe, the Places de la Bastille, de la Con-
corde and du Carrousel, and the Quays frown with artillery.
To-morrow will be a warm day!"
" It has been rather warm to-day in some parts of Paris,"
said Louis Blanc, smiling. "Was there ever a grander spec-
tacle than that in the Place de la Concorde at noon? At
least one himdred thousand nien were there assembl-ed.
Rushing across the bridge, they gathered around the Cham-
ber of Deputies then from the southern gate of the Tuileries
issued two bodies of troops, one of mounted Municipal
Guards, the other infantry of the Line, and, pressing on the
dense mass, they drove them over the bridge. Only a few
old fruitwomen were crushed beneath the horses' hoofs,
and a few of the troops were wounded by pebbles, however."
"At the same time," said Flocon, "all the chains in the
Champs-Elysees were in requisition for a barricade, as well
as all the public carriages, and the people sang the Marseil-
laise, the Parisienne and the Hymn of the Girondins. A
guard-house was also consumed."
"Have you heard Bugeaud's remark at noon, when looking
upon the Place de la Concorde?" asked Marrast.
" We have been too busy to-day to hear anything," said
Ledru Rollin.
"'Ah! we shall have a day of it," said the bl-.iod-thirsty
old hero. ' I care not for the day,' said the pale Guizot, ' but
the tiighl!'"
"The people made quite a demonstration about Guizot, I
hear," said Flocon. "They assailed him with a shower of
irrnans, it is said, and some of the gamins flung pebbles at his
gates."
"The most significant shout before the office of Foreign
Affairs was this," said Ledru RolJin "' Countess of Leven,
where is the Minister?'"
" And the very moment this was occurring," said Flocon,
"I understand that M. Thiers, on his return from the Cham-
ber, in passing through the Champs-Elysees, narrowly es-
caped a most unwelcome ovation from the people. The two
rivals were duly and simultaneously honored it seems."
" Thus much for to-day," said Marrast; "what of to-night? "
"B,irncades rise all over Paris," said M. Dantes. "But
THE MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE. 149
we can do no more. Let us each retire to his home. To-mor-
row the National Guard will fraternize with the people,
and the Ministry will resign."
A few words of parting salutation passed, and all de-
M. Dantes and Lamartine left the office in company.
"What say you, Edmond," asked Lamartine, "will your
wife spare you long enough from her pillow to make
with me a brief tour of the town? '
" Mercedes is rather exacting," said Dantes, with a laugh;
" but if your fair lady will suffer your absence, mine must do
the same, I fear."
"Well, then, let us first to the Hotel de Ville, that grand
center of Paris in all that is revolutionary."
As the two friends passed along, conversing on the events
of the day and the anticipations of the morrow, they were
met, from time to time, by knots of men at the corners,
eagerly recounting the incidents of the hour; the roll of
drums was heard in the distance and occasionally there came
the heavy and measured tread of infantry, the clatter of cav-
alry and the lumbering of artillery, as they passed on their
way. All the shops and cafes were closed. Many of the
lamps were demolished, and others were not lighted, the
gas being shut off. A fearful gloom brooded over the city.
The winter wind swept sharply and cuttingly along the de-
serted streets, and rain, which froze as it fell, at intervals
dashed down.
The Hotel de Ville was encompassed by troops as the
friends approached it.
"Is that a cannon?" asked Lamartine, pointing to a dark
object that protruded from an embrasure of the edifice.
"It is!" replied Dantes.
" Then the revolution has, indeed, begun! Artillery in the
streets of Paris!"
" Behind each column of the portico of the Chamber of
Deputies this day frowned a concealed cannon!" was the
significant response.
The friends turned off from the Hotel de Ville, and, cross-
ing the right branch of the Seine, were under the deep shad-
ows of Notre Dame. But all was tranquil and still. Qnl^
the bowlings of the wintry blast were heati XXvccm^ "Cd^
150 EDMOND DANTES.
towers and architectural ornaments of the old pile. Up the
Rue St. Jacques, into the Quartier Latin, they then proceeded,
but the students and the grisettes seemed to be fast asleep.
Turning back, they passed the Fish Market, and here a large
body of cavalry had bivouacked. Patrols marched to and fro;
officers in huge dark cloaks smoked, laughed and chatted, re-
gardless of the morrow. The friends went on. All was
dark in the faubourg which succeeded. Not a light gleamed,
save, in some lofty casement, the fainting candle of the
worn-out needlewoman or of the overtasked student.
"Ahl" exclaimed Lamartine, as they passed 'one of these
flickering lights, "who knows. what plotting head and ready
hand may be beside that candle? Who knows of the weapon
burnished, the cartridge filled and the sabre sharpened by that
light for the morrow?"
"The morrpw!" exclaimed M. Dantes; "that r
cides the fate of France 1"
And the friends parted.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE SECOND DAY.
The S3rd of February dawned on Paris as a city under
arms. Artillery frowned in all the public places; the barri-
cades of the preceding night had been thrown down as fast
as erected; National Guards thronged the thoroughfares; the
people swarmed along the boulevards. In the neighborhood
of the Porte St. Denis and the Porte St. Martin, barricades
rose as if by magic, but were as if by magic swept away.
Cavalry bivouacked in the streets, and ordnance was leveled
along their entire extent.
The ave
:nues were closely invested.
and even old men and -v
vomen w
ere arrested on their way
to their own thresholds.
From
time to time single shots
or volleys of musketry
were hi
;ard in the distance, and
ed past
to the hospitals.
The Government had
ordered
al! public carriages to be
cleared from the stands.
that m
aterial for new barricades
t when the old o
t demolished; but the
CitKH^Ic
pk
THE SECOND DAY.
. for the
iiigs at Ihc hotel of
the Mitiister of Marine, in the Place de la Concorde, :
at the churches of the Assumplion and St. Roch had been
torn away to supply weapons of attack or defense, or im-
plements with which to tear up the huge square paving
stones of Paris for barricades.
At eleven o'clock the National Guard of the Second Arron-
di-^sement gathered at the opera house in the Rue Lepelletier
and near the office of " Le National." "Vive la Reforme! "
"Vive la Garde Nationale!" "Long live the real defenders
of the country!" these were the shouts, intermingled with
the clioruses of national songs, that
pie and the National Guard.
At twelve o'clock the 2d Legion
was at the Tnileries to make a dc
Its colonel, M, Bagnierea, declared 1
th.-il he conUl not answer for his men. At
fompanicd by an immerse multitude, with
nized, tlu'y were again on the Rue Lepellel
issiers and one of chasseurs advanced
: from the peo-
ot the National Guard
nonstration for reform.
J the Duke of Nemours
:n. At one o'clock, ae-
'hom they frater-
ier. A squadron
dislodge them.
ried the chef d'escadron.
epiied the officer of the National
^ Ar
I" Who are these men?"
The people of Paris!"
nrd.
And who are you? "
"An officer of the ad Legion of the National Guard."
"The people must disperse!"
They will not!"
i"! will compel them!"
f The National Guard will defend them!"
Vive la Reforme!" shouted the people.
The National Guard and the cuirassiers united. The ofGccr,
chagrined, turned back to his men and vociferated in tones
of thunder:
Wheel! Forward I"
And the whole body resumed its march down the Boule-
i
An hour afterwards a still larger body of troops, Municipal
Guards mounted and on foot, cuirassiers and infantry of the
Line, came down the Boulevard and made a half movement
on the Rue Lepelletier, but, seeing the hostile attitude of
ional Guard, continued their march amid shouts of
.,Gi.)t.)'
^
153 EDMOND DANTES.
"Vive la Reforme!" "Vive la Garde Nationalel" "Vive la.
Twice, within an hour afterwards, the same thing occurred.
It was plain that the National Guard fraternized with the
The 3d Legion deputed their colonel, M. Besson, to de-
mand of the King reform and a change of Ministry. The
colonel presented the memorial to General Jaqueminot, who
promised to place it in the Royal hands.
The 4th Legion marched to the Chamber ot Deputies and
presented a petition for reform.
Coi. Lemercier, of the 10th, arrested a man for shouting
"Vive la Reforme!" The man was liberated by his own
troops, with shouts of " Vive la Reforme! " The colonel with-
The cavalry legion, the 13th, in like manner repudiated
Col. Montalivet.
The Municipal Guard was ordered to disarm the 3rd Legion.
Both advanced bayonets were crossed 'blood was about
to flow. At that moment Col. Textorix, of the National
Guard, rushed up and exclaimed:
" Brothers, will you slay brothers? "
The effect was electrical. The muskets were instantly
shouldered and the combatants separated.
All over Paris the same scenes took place, with a few ex-
"Vive la Rcpublique!" cried Ledru Rollin lo Albert, who
was hurrying down the Rue Lepelletier, at nbout noon.
"Vive la Republique!" was the hearty response. "What
of the National Guard?"
"The Guard fraternizes with the people." replied Ledru
RoHin. "What of the blouses and the barricades?"
"Last night, the barricades of yeslerday were swept from
the streets, and even the material of which to build them
also, the pavements only excepted; yet, at dawn this morning,
the whole space between the Quarlier Saint-Martin des *
Champs, the Mont de Piete and the Temple, and all the
smaller streets were choked with barricades."
"And they were at once assailed?"
"By the troops of the Line, the Municipal Guard and the
chasscars of Yin
T,Google
Phil
THE SECOND DAY. 1S3
' Who were repulsed?"
" With most obstinate bravery. At the Rue Rambuteau, the
9th Regiment was three times driven back; also at the cor-
r of the Rue St. Denis and the Rue de Tracy. In the Rue
I Philippeaux a ball passed through the face of a soldier of the
^Ist of the Line infantry, and then through the head of a
-oltiBeur behind him. Sixteen soldiers fell in the attack on
e barricade o( the Rue Rambuteau. A blouse pointed a pis-
tol at an officer of the Municipal Guard; the pisto! hung fire,
and the officer passed his sword through his assailant's body.
From this you can infer that we have had close fighting."
I have heard that an assault was made on the armory
ur friends, the Leparge Brothers, for weapons; is it so?"
There was an assault at about ten o'clock; but the win-
s were loo strong to be carried. There has been fighting
he Rue de Petit Carrel, and the neighborhood of the
Place Royale, I learn. Achmet Pacha, son of Mehemet Ali,
is fighting for us with the most wonderful intrepidity. A
chef de bataillon of the 34th was slain by a shot from a win-
Idow, and some offices of the Octroi have been burned. Three
men were killed at the Batignolles, and their bodies were
ccompanied by an immense throng to the Morgue."
' Have you heard that the 5th Regiment, as in 1830. has
Joined the people, and that, on their way to the Prefecture of
Police to liberate some of the people who had been arrested,
they stopped at the office of ' La Reforme,' and were elo-
quently addressed by our friend, Louis Blanc? "
" What did he say to them? "
" He told them the iight was not yet over; that there must
B Still be a banquet; and that this time there must be no mis-
take -the workmen must have the freedom they won!"
"Vive Louis Blanc!" cried Albert, and, in a higher state of
bxcilement than he had ever before been known to exhibit,
he hurried oiT.
"I am for the Tuileries," said Ledru Rollin, as they
parted.
"And I for the Palais Royal." said Albert.
t" We meet to-night at the office of " Le National?' "
"Without tail, at midnight!"
It was on the stinare nt the smith end of the Palais Royal
H moflt blood was R|jill.-ii between the eeo^lt .4 ^;Q*.
^^LQuwalc^
154 EDMOND DANTES.
troops. The Oiateau d'Eau was furiously assailed and ob-
stinately defended assailed by the people and defended by
six thousand picked troops. The people triumphed! Of the
troops, at least a thousand perished, and the remnant fled.
At three o'clock M, Rambuteau, Prefect of the Seine, waited
on the King and informed him that the National Guard de^
manded reform, and the Municipal Guard a change of Min-
istry.
The King in dismay convened the Ministry.
"Can the Ministry maintain itself?" asked Louis Philippe.
" That question brings its own answer to your Majesty,"
replied Guizot. " If you doubt the stability of your Minis-
try, who can trust them?"
'.' I have thought of the Count Mole," observed the King.
" He is an able man, sire," replied Guizot; "and his political
connections with M. Barrot and M. Thiers may aid him
to form a Ministry. But, sire, not an instant is to be lost.
Your faithful Ministers will do all they can, but a Ministerial
crisis cannot be delayed; and, if your Majesty will permit the
suggestion, the emergency demands that to Marshal Bugeaud
be given the command of Paris."
" You will proceed to the Chamber to announce that M.
Mole is entrusted with the formation of a new cabinet," said
the King.
And the council closed.
At four, an officer of the staff passed along the boulevards,
announcing the fall of the Ministry.
Instantly, with the speed of the telegraph, the intelligence
flew to the obscurest parts of Paris, Its effect was, at first,
most cheering. Barricades were deserted and arms thrown
down; faces brightened, hands, almost stained with each
other's blood, were clasped; troops and people, unwillingly
fighting, embraced; all was triumph, joy and congratulation.
" AH now is over all is right at last! " was the exclamation
of one man of the people to another.
" Guizot has fallen, but the King has sent for Count Mole,"
replied a third, with a dissatisfied air.
" No matter," cried the first speaker. " the system is over-
turned! What care we who is Minister?"
" It is too late," replied the other. " Guizot has been forced
.iwny by the people Mole may lie forced away, too so may
King! No 1
THE SECOND UAY.
The
tricks! The people now know their
; shall be no mistake this time!"
And the insurrectionists parted.
As the day closed, barricades rose in the Quartier du
Temple, and there was fighting between the people and the
nicipal Guard. But the National Guard came to the rescue,
and the latter surrendered.
At nine o'clock Paris was illuminated. While, red, blue
I yellow, orange, green these were the tri-colors of the lamps
1 that poured their rich effuleenee from every window on the
J gloomy scene without. The .streets were thronged and the
\ cafes crowded; men of all natiotis and Parisians of all classes
1 the streets; the rattle of musketry had ceased; the
I troops were in their barracks and the people at their homes.
At the corner of the Boulevard and the Rue des Capucines,
ocon and Louis Blanc met,
" Guizot has fallen!" cried the first.
" And the most intimate friend of the King has succeeded
[him! What have we to hope for from the change?"
"What are we to do?" asked Flocon.
"In one hour the people will sing the Marseillaise before
[ the Hotel des Affaires Etranfferes! "
"The 14th Regiment of the Line is there," replied Flo-
"So much the better! Blood will flow! The revolution will
[ ' not stop ! "
And the conspirators separated.
At ten o'clock, before the official residence of M. Guizot,
\ himself then absent, and probably in full Hlghl for the coast,
wd of the people with torches was assembled.
I Their purpose was to sing the Marseillaise. The Hth Regi-
t barred the way the street was dimly lighted a single
I ftfw of lamps along the courtyard wall was all the illumination
a double line of troops was the defense.
" Let me pass! " cried the officer of the National Guard who
Vied the people to the officer who led the troops.
" Impossible! "
" Tn the name of the people, I demand to pass! "
"In the name of the Law, you shall not!"
"The people command! Forward! " cried the National
156 EDMOND DANTES.
"PresentI Firel" shouted the officer.
There was a roil of musketry a shrill shriek rang along
the Boulevard the vast mass recoiled the smoke floated off
sixty-three of the people of Paris lay weltering in their
gore!
"The blow is struck at last!" cried M. Dantes, rushing
across the Boulevard, pale and excited. " To arms, people of
Paris, to arms!"
"To arms, to arms! Vengeance for our brothers!" was
now the terrible cry that burst from the infuriated populace.
The congratulation the illumination all was lost in the
wild wish for vengeance.
At eleven o'clock that night an immense multitude, com-
posed chiefly of workmen from the faubourgs, was coming
down the Boulevard des Capucines. It was the largest and
most regular throng yet seen. In front marched a platoon of
men bearing torches and waving tri-color flags. Immediately
behind walked an officer in the full uniform of the National
Guard, with a drawn sword in his hand, whose slightest com-
mand was implicity observed. Next came a tumbrel bearing
the naked corpses of the slain, whose faces, mutilated by their
wounds and disfigured by blood, glared horribly up, with open
eyes, in the red torchlight that flared in the night blast
around! Behind this awful display marched a dense mass
of National Guards, succeeded by a countless mass of the
people armed with guns, swords, clubs and bars of iron, chant-
ing forth in full chorus, not the inspiring Marseillaise or the
Parisienne, but in awful concert sending upon the night air
the deep and dreadful notes of the death-hymn of the Giron-
dins, " Mourir pour la Patrie," intermingled with yells for
Down the boulevards approach the multitude more distinct
becomes the dirge more redly glare the torches and, amid
all, more deeply rumble the wheels of the death-cart on the
The funeral column reaches the corner of the Boulevard and
the Rue Lepellctier the dealh-hymn rises to a yell of fury
the officer of the National Guard turns the head of the col-
umn to the right before it is an edifice conspicuous by its
illumination of huge and blood-rerf lamps it is the office of
T,Google
THE SECOND DAY. 157
" Le National" the crowd halts one long loud shriek of
"Vengeance!" goes up it is succeeded by the thrilling notes
of the Marseillaise from ten thousand lips, and " Marrast!
Marrast! " is the shout that follows.
The windows of the front office were thrown up, and the
editor, surrounded by friends, appeared. His speech was
brief but fervid. He exhorted the people to be firm ^to secure
their rights beyond recall^and promised them ample retribu-
tion for past wrongs and security for future rights.
M. Garnier Pages, who stood at the side of Marrast, next
addressed the people in the same strain, amid thunders of
applause.
Making a detour to the office of " Le Reforme," the multi-
tude were addressed by M. Flocon, its editor; then, pro-
ceeding to the Place de la Bastille, the corpses were deposited
at the foot of the Column of July, and the crowd dispersed.
The night that succeeded was an awful one. The streets,
which an hour before blazed with the illumination, were dark.
Barricades rose in every direction. At every corner shopmen,
workmen, women, clerks and children were at work. The
crash of falling trees, the clank of the lever and the pickaxe,
the rattle of paving stones these were the significant sounds
that broke the stillness. Every tree on the whole line of the
Boulevard was felled and every lamp-post overthrown; a bar-
ricade of immense strength rose at the end of the Rue Riche-
lieu; the troops offered no resistance; they piled their arms,
lighted their fires and bivouacked close beside the barricades.
At the. Hotel de Ville the troops of the Line and the Chas-
seurs d'Africiue quietly ate their suppers, smoked their pipes
and laid themselves down to sleep. On the Boulevard dcs
Italiens appeared three regiments of the Line, a battalion of
National Guards, a regiment of cuirassiers, and three (ield-
pieces, with their caissons of ammunition. The horses were
unharnessed by the people, the caissons opened, the am-
munition distributed and the guns dragged off. The troops,
guards and cuirassiers fraternized.
T,Google
15S EDMOND DANTES.
"CHAPTER XX.
ANOTHER MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE.
Again it was midnight. Again the chiefs of the revolu-
tion of '48 assembled in conclave. The second of the Three
Days had passed, but the streets of Paris were all alive with
Every leader of the reform was there Ledru Rollin and
Flocon excited and fiery. Louis Blanc exhausted and agitated,
Albert stern and collected, Lamartine pale and troubled, Mar-
rast sanguine and confident all of them more or less dis-
turbed but M. Danles. As for him, the same calm smile was
on his lip, the same mild light in his eye and the same un-
changing resolution upon his countenance.
" Who attended the Chamber of Deputies to-day? " asked
Marrast. "Did you, Lamartine?"
" I did," was the reply, "and witnessed a somewhat stormy
sitting. At three o'clock, as usual, old Sauzet took the chair.
Oiir friends were there in large numbers; the Ministerial
benches were also filled. Immediately after, M. Guizot en-
tered. He had been saluted with groatis by the 10th Legion,
stationed on guard without, and with cries of ' Down with
GuiKOt!' Calm, undisturbed, stony in aspect, though strangely
pallid, he entered and took his scat. M. Vavin, Deputy
for the Seine, instantly mounted the tribune. As Deputy of
Paris he had, he said, a solemn duty to fulfill. For twenly-
four hours Paris had been in insurrection. Why was this?
He called on the Minister of the Interior to explain."
"And what said Guizot? " asked Louis Blanc, eagerly.
" He said he thought the public interest did not demand,
nor was it proper for the Chamber at that time, to enter
into debate on the subject. The King had called M, le
Comte Mole to form a new cabinet."
"' And then the left cheered? " exclaimed Flocon."
" Most emphatically," was the reply,
"And what said Guizot then?" asked Ledru Rollin.
" He calmly said that no such demonstrations could induce
him to add to or withhold a single syllable of what he
designed io say, or to pretermit a single act he had designed
...-sie
ANOTHER MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE. 159
to do. As long as his Ministry remained in office he
should cause public order to be respected, according to his
best judgment, and as he had always done. He should con-
sider himself answerable for all that might happen, and should
in all things act as conscience might dictate for the best in-
terests of the country."
"A noble answer!" exclaimed M. Dantes, with enthusiasm.
Ledru Rollin and Louts Blanc assented.
"And what next?" pursued Flocon.
" After considerable confusion," continued Lamartine, " M.
Odillon Barrot rose and demanded, in consequence of the
situation of the cabinet, a postponement of the proposition
for its impeachment, fixed for to-morrow."
"Ah! And what said the Chamber?" asked Flocon.
" The demand was so loudly reprobated that M. Barrot
immediately said he made the proposal in entire submission
to the majority."
"And what said Dupin?" asked Ledru Rollin, eagerly.
" Dupin said the first thing necessary for the capital was
order. Anarchy must cease. The Ministry could not at the
same time occupy themselves in re-establishing order and in
caring for their own safety. He demanded the adjournment
of the impeachment and of all business."
"And what did Barrot reply to that?" asked Louis Blanc.
" M. Barrot was silent; but the Minister of Foreign Affairs
at once rose and said with much energy that as long as
his cabinet remained entrusted with the public interest, which
would probably be for some hours, it would cause the laws to
be respected. The cabinet saw no reason for the suspension
of the labors of the Chamber. The Crown was at that mo-
ment exercising its prerogative, and it must be respected.
So long as his cabinet was on those benches, the Chamber
need not suspend its labors."
" What was the vote on the question to postpone considera-
tion of the impeachment?" asked Flocon.
"Some of the opposition supported the motion, but the
whole center opposed it, and it was lost. The Chamber im-
mediately rose in great agitation, and M. Guizot disap-
" It seems to me that the position oi M. O4^^^o^v '^.'mxW. \i
a sopiewhat pecaliar one at this moment," obsctNci \jiViX'i
160 EDMOND DANTES.
Blanc. " He is neither with the Crown nor with the people,
and yet both seem to confide in him."
"And I passed his house this evening, at about eight
o'clock," said i'locon, " a large multitude were in his court-
yard shouting, ' Long live Odillon Barrot!' A deputation of
the people penetrated, I understand, even to his private apart-
ment, where he was in consultation with Thiers and Dupin.
Barrot then urged them to be moderate in their triumph and
to retire. M. Garnier Pages, who chanced to be there, urged
them to do the same, and they went ofS shouting louder than
At that moment one of the reporters of " Le National"
hastily entered and handed Marrast a note.
"Whence do you come Monsieur?" asked the editor.
" From the Tuileries, Monsieur," was the reply, and the
reporter left.
The editor opened the note and read aloud:
" One o'clock Count Mole, unable to form a cabinet, has
this moment resigned, and the King has sent for M. Guizot,
M. Thiers and Marshal Bugeaud.
" Half-past one o'clock Marshal Bugermd's commission as
Commander-in-chief of the National Guard and of the
troops of the Line, in place of Generais Jaqueminot and Pcy-
ronett Tyburee Sebastiani, has just been signed by M. Guizot
and his colleagues, the Ministers of War and the Interior, and
will appear in the 'Moniteur' of this morning. Bugeaud's
plan is this: Instant attack with an overwhelming force of
artillery, calvary and infantry of the Line, (which, he asserts,
he has now all ready in position in anticipation of this event,
and well disposed to act,) on all the barricades. He promises
to sweep away every obstruction from the streets before
dawn, though at the cost of fifty thousand lives."
"Ha!" exclaimed all the conspirators, instantly springing
to their feet.
"This, indeed, is resistance!" said M. Dantes. "But Bug-
eaud can concentrate no more troops upon us. Every avenue
to Paris will be effectually* closed before morning and even
the telegraph stopped!"
"If this be true, we have not an instant to lose!" said
Louis Blanc.
T,Google
ANOTHER MIDNIGHT CONCL.-iVE. IGl
"I had a hint of this," began M. Daiites.
" Stay stay, Messieurs! " cried Marrast, as the whole
company was rushing *o the door. " Here is another and
later dispatch."
"Two o'clock Marshal Bugeaud has gone to complete his
arrangements for instant attack. M. Thiers has arrived, and,
with Odillon Barrot, Duvergier de Ilauranne and de Remu-
sat, has formed a cabinet. General Lamoriciere supersedes
Marshal Bugcaud the latter is recalled and forbidden to tire
on the people. He protests with violence, and sheathes his
sword in despair."
"To be sure he docs, the old cut-throatl" cried Ledru
Rollin. " The idea of being let loose with his mastiffs on
the people of Paris, like sheep pent up in a fold, was to him a
source of rapturous anticipation, and his rage at the disap-
pointment Is proportional!"
" Messieurs! " cried M. Dantts, " this last step of the
Government was ali that we required to insure our success.
Thiers and Barrot mistake if they think there is sufficient
magic in their names to quell a revolution. In fact, neither
of ihcm are trusted by the people. It is too late! Yesterday
this might have been done; but now the demand is not re-
form, but a republic not 'down with the Ministry,' but 'down
with the dynasty!'"
The conspirators looked at each other and then at M.
Danles in amazement and doubt. It was apparent they were
as yet unprepared for laiT^agc so plain.
"M. Dantes is right!" cried Flocon. "To-morrow night
when we meet we shall all admit it! "
It was now nearly three o'clock, and the Republicans
repaired to their homes for a few hours' sleep before the
exciting scenes anticipated for the morrow.
As Louis Blanc and M. Albert passed up the Rue Lepelle-
tior. and came opposite the Hotel of the Minister of Foreign
Affairs, which, but a few hours before, had been the scene
of so much confusion and bloodshed, they paused and looked
around. The pavement was still dark and wet with the gore
iif the slaughtered citizens, but the whole street was deserted
ileiit. Here and there a solitary light might W it\.'iL'i.t&,
11
n.a.ii.Pd-vCoO'ilt'
163 EDMOND DANTES.
in the attic windows of the immense hotel i but no other sign
of life or human occupation was to be perceived. True, there
was an ominous sound of rising barricades in the Boulevard
beyond the crash of trees, the chck of steel on stone, the
lumbering of wheels and, at intervals, a distant shout. But
this excepted, all was as Quiet in Paris as if the old city had
never known of insurrection.
" This spot will be noted in the future history of France,"
said Louis Blanc. " Do you know the exact facts of the case,
M. Albert? There are so many rumors that we can with
difficulty get near the truth,"
" I was not present when the 14th delivered their fire,"
was the reply, " but I learned from M. de Courtais, who
hastened to the spot, that the colonel of the regiment, now
in prison, asserts that, at the moment of the arrival of the
crowd, a ball from a musket which aceidently went off, broke
the leg of his horse, and he, thinking this the signal for an
attack, at once gave orders to fire. Another story is that one
of our young blouses blew out an officer's brains with a
" Many of the troops must have fired in the air," said
Louis Blanc, looking around him, "for there were two hun-
dred of them in line, I understand, and their discharge was
delivered across the whole breadth of the Boulevard swarming
with people."
" It was unfortunate for M. Giiizot," rejoined M. Albert,
with a sardonic smile, " that his hotel should have witnessed
" But fortunate for the cause, nevertheless," replied Louis
Blanc. "This last movement is called the movement of the
journalists, I understand."
" If suspicions are always as correct," said M. Albert,
"there will be fewer false ones, I fancy."
Louis Blanc made no reply, and the friends walked on up
the Boulevard, reconnoitering every spot.
.^t the Rue du Faubourg Montrnartre they were stopped by
a barricade, which was rapidly rising under the united and
vigorous exertions of several hundred men. Steadily, sternly
and silently, all that night they toiled, and when the barricade
was completed the tri-color flag was planted on its summit,
and a citizen-soldier stood beside its staff to defend it On
ANOTHER MIDNIGHT CONCLAVE. 1B3
r side of the Boulevard, in the Rue Moiitinnnrc, rose
])ther barricade entirely finished.
" These men are resolved," said Louis Blanc.
"Desperate, rather," replied Albert. "They have counted
e cost ami prepared to go on with the attempt they have be-
gun at all hazards. It is better to fight than starve, they
"' But do you observe how few of thsm are armed? " asked
Louis Blanc.
" We have provided for that deficiency. Vou will see arms
enough for all to-morrow," replied Albert. "Barricades first,
arms afterwards! "
.\nd, indeed, while he was yet speaking, a tumbrel loaded
wiih arms of every description drove silently up, and each
man supplied himself with a weapon that suited his fancy.
In some instances the taste exhibited was ludicrous in the ex-
treme; there were swords without scabbards and bayonets
without guns a towering helmet on the head of one man,
and broad white leather cross-bells on the shoidders of
another daggers and knives, sabres .'ind pikes mingled in
grotesque confusion. But each individual was armed with
something, and, to crown all, a small piece of ordance, borne
on the shoulders of four stout men, who staggered beneath
its weight, was now brought up and placed in battery.
" From such men what may we not hopcl " exclaimed Louis
t Blanc. " But it is near morning; let us proceed,"
" I stop here," quietly said Albert.
I'" What! Pass the night here?" exclaimed his companion.
"The night is nearly passed now," replied Albert, with a
smile. " I will sleep a few houra with my men of the barri-
cades, and be ready to help them defend their work in the
ning."
, Albert," said Louis Blanc.
^^ " You are devoted to the
^Evarmly grasping his hand.
^Bj'Oh! no more than yoiiracH," was the reply. "We are
^|pH devoted to it, but each in his own way. You are an author,
^^T am a workman. It is a light thing for me to pass a,
night with only the sky for a canopy. It is a light thing for
you to pass a night in your study. A change of positions would
p ossibily kill us both!"
^^t The friends grasped each other warmly by the KB.o.d. 'i.'cA
,Got.i'
g^
EDMOND DANTES.
his study and the workman t
CHAPTER XXI.
"Citizens of Pakis:
Orders have been given to cease firing everywhere.
We have just been charged by the King to form a new
Ministry,
The Chamber will be dissolved and an appeal made to the
country.
General Lamoricierc has been appointed Commandant of
the National Guard,
Liberty! Order! Union! Reform!
O DILLON Barbot.
Thiers."
Such was the placard which appeared at every corner in
Paris on the morning of Thursday, February 34th. At three
o'clock it had been hastily struck at the offices of " La
Presse" and " Le Constitutionnel," and given into the hands
of the bill-posters. At daylight it was read by the early
passers, and, as soon as read, indignantly torn down with the
significant murmur, "It is too late!"
At eight o'clock a proclamation to the National Guard,
signed by Lamoriciere and countersigned by Odillon Barrot,
was similarly received.
At nine o'clock the 45th Regiment of the Line fraternized
with the National Guard, the 30th resigned its arms to the peo-
ple, and the five companies of Compiers yielded their quarters
with all their arms and ammunition at the first summons.
At ten o'clock a proclamation was posted up at the Bourse,
signed by Odillon Barrot and Thiers, ordering the troops not
on}y to cease firing, but to retire to their quarters. Immediately
THE THIRD DAY. 165
the trumphets sounded a retreat, and the most important
positions hitherto held by the Line were yielded to the peo-
ple. The men of the barricades could now concentrate and
advance. Magic there was none in the names of Barrot and
Thiers to restrain them. Both were viewed as deserters from
their cause. The latter was openly insulted by the popu-
lace wherever he appeared, and the former, though at first re-
spectfully listened to, was, at length, assailed with murmurs
of disapprobation on his way to the Tuileries.
In his editorial sanctum sat our friend Beauchamp, of
whom for some time we have lost sight, but who has, mean-
while, been most industriously at work in his paper, " Le
Charivari," in concert with " Le National" and other larger
sheets, in forwarding the cause of reform and, finally, of
revolution.
The door opened and Chateau- Re naud appeared.
" Farewell, Beauchamp!" he exclaimed, " I've not a moment
to lose! A post-chaise is at the door! Farewell!"
" Off! " cried the journalist, in astonishment. " And whither
and why?"
" Yes, off for England Italy America anywhere but
France!" exclaimed the ybung noble.
' And why? "
" Why? " cried the indignant Deputy. " Look around you
and then ask what there is left in France for me! Beauchamp,"
continued the young man hurriedly and in low tones, " France
will have no King at this hour to-morrow! Mark the proph-
ecy! The National Guard fraternizes with the populace; the
Line fraternizes with the Guard. The Government is, of
course, paralyzed. All is over; six hours hence the Tuileries
will be ransacked by a drunken mob! Farewell!"
"One moment! Why do you leave in this way? Why do
you not go to Boulogne by the cars? "
" And do you not know you, a journalist that for three
leagues around, in every direction, every railway radiating
from Paris has been torn up? Do you not know that every
public conveyance, even to the Mail Diligences, has been
stopped, and that all the telegraph stations have been dis-
mantled all to prevent the further concentration of troops
in Paris by the Government? "
" I did bear of this, indeed," said BeaucVi^mp.
,Got)gle
166 BDMOND DANTBS.
" At dawn I was at the railway d6p6t, having late last
night, with extreme difRculty, procured a passport. And
whom think you, among crowds o others, I encountered
there? You would u^ver guess, and I haven't time for you
to try. Lncien Debray, and with him but that's impossible
for you to divine she who was Madame Danglars, wife of
the rich banker years ago. Well, the banker is dead and she
is immensely rich, and I suppose Lucien's spouse into the
bargain."
" And where go they? "
"Oh! to England of course that grand reservoir of all
emigrant royalists, that asylum for all who love kingsl But
farewell, farewell! If I am not off soon I may have to go
without my hcadl And if you are not massacred by your de-
testable party, I hope to hear of you yet as a Cabinet Minis-
ter. Despite your abominable principles, you have my best
wishes! Farewell! "
And with a hearty shake of Beauchamp's hand, the young
noble was off for an atmosphere more congenial to monarch-
ists than was that of Paris.
Nor was he alone. Thousands fled from Paris in like man-
ner that same day, and the only try that followed them was
this:
"Let them go! Let them go!"
The streets of Paris were now choked with barricades
not the mere temporary breastworks of the first and second
days, which a single charge of heavy dragoons would sweep
away, but regular systematic, scientific structures, erected
apparently under the direction of military engineers, and cal-
culated upon every principle of art to insure resistance. Some
of them were of immense sizc^that, for example, at the
corner of the Rue Richelieu; some had port-holes from which
protruded the mouths of ordnance in battery; all were sur-
mounted by a flag, tri-color or red, and all were defended by
desperate men. Some other thoroughfares were crossed by
many barricades the Rue St. Martin, lor instance, by
thirty or forty. The troops assailing these structures were
mowed down, throughout the day, in a manner which even
their opponents deemed most merciless. Instances of individ-
ual bravery on both sides were fre(|ucnt. In the Rue Mau-
conscU, a young man exposed ViitnseU on the top of the bar-
THE THIRD DAY.
IBT
ftcadc. time after time, Tiring with fatal aim, and every time
a shower of balls from the troops assailing whistled around
him. But he stood untouched, and, at length, the officer
ordering the troops to fire at him no more he retired at
once behind the breastwork. A boy in the Rue St. Honor6
mounted the barricade, enveloped in a tri-color flag, and
dared the troops to fire on their colors. He descended un-
harmed. An officer of the Line was summoned to yield his
sword. He did so, but first broke it in twain across his
knee. The same demand was made to a lieutenant of the
Municipal Guard, with a musket at his breast; he was bid-
den also to shout "Vive la Republique! " hut he only cried
" Vive le Roil " as the weapon was wrenched from his graspl
Yet he was spared. Arms were demanded from every house-
holder, and when given, the gift was endorsed on the door in
these words: "Here we were given arms." One man re-
ceived a sword splendidly decorated with gems upon its scab-
bard and hilt. "I want only the blade 1" he said, tearing it
away from its ornaments and grasping the naked steell
At fen o'clock M. Odillon Barret, General Lamorici^re and
Horace Vernet, the great marine artist, proceeded on horse-
back to the barricades to induce the people to disperse, but
all their eloquent entreaties were received only with insults.
" No truce no tricks no mistake this time! " were the deci-
sive shouts with which tliey were greeted. A second time,
m the Rue Richelieu, General Lamoriciere, accompanied by
Moline Saint Gru bearing a palm branch, was equally un-
successful. " It is too late! " was the terrible response from
the heart of the barricades, followed by a shower of stones,
one of which wounded General Lamoriciere on the hand. A
tliird time, in the Rue Rohan, General Gourgaud, who even
promised the abdication of the King, met with the same
utter defeat, and hastily fled from the fury of the monster
now thoroughly roused.
mor sped with lightning rapidity
s that the troops, who had oster-
r quarters, were, in fact, coneen-
tnstantly rose the shout. "To the
1 hundred thousand men
urd the Palaia
At twelve o'clock the
through the streets of P;
sibly been ordered to tb
traied around the palace.
Tuilerics! To the Tuileries!"
hy_G outvie
188 EDMOND DANTES.
The rumor of the concentration at the palace was true.
The Place du Carrousel was crowded with troops of every
arm, including several squadrons of cuirassiers, and six
pieces of ordnance were in position, with their ammunition
caissons and their provisions and baggage wagons, as if for
a siege. The King, attended by his staff and accompanied by
the Dukes of Nemours and Montpensier, now descended into
the court to pass the troops in review. The Line shouted
" Vive le Roi! " as the King rode along. The National
Guards, with tones and looks of menace and defiance, criied
"Reform!" The King replied, "Yes, my friends, you sliall
have reform," and sad and dispirited turned away to his
apartments; as he retired the bitter murmur was heard
from his aged lips, " Like Charles X."
A deputation of the people had been admitted within the
limits of the Place du Carrousel to announce the terms they
would accept, but after a brief parley had retired dissatisfied.
The men of the barricades now invested the Tuileries and the
Palais Royal on every side.
Such was the scene without. Within, all was confusion and
dismay. The salons were thronged by deputies, peers, gen-
erals and marshals; Bugeaud, Lamorieiere, Dupin, Thiers de
Lasteyrie and many others were there, together with all the
Royal family then in the capital, whether male or female.
Meanwhile, the rattle of musketry, broken by the occa-
sional roar of ordnance, in the direction of the Palais Royal,
indicated the severe struggle then going on between the
people and the troops; from time to time, the furious shout
of "To the guillotine with Louis Philippe!" reached the
"Does your Majesty hear that?" asked the Duke of Nem-
ours coldly of his dismayed father. Alas! the old man
was no longer the hero of July 3d!
"I do, my son," was the trembling reply. "Do you advise
abdication? "
" Is there any other course left! " asked the Duke of Mont-
" Any other course!" cried the Queen, indignantly. "Oh!
are you my son ^are you a son of Orleans, and can you
talk thus of degradation? Are you a soldier and do you
fear? -AJount' mount! charge on the rebels! cut them to
THE THIRD DAY. IfiS
Elbe eartli! drench the pavement with their blooi!! perish.
but yield not iEnominiously thusl "
' Madame." said M. Thiers, solemnly, " it is too late! There
must be an abdication In favor of the Coimt ot Paris, and the
appointment of the Duchess of Orleans as Regent, or all
is lost I"
"Then if this must be. let it be done with dignity becom-
ing a monarch," said the noble Queen. " Let us all retire
to St. Cloud. There may be dictated terms of honorable
capitulation. There "
.'\t that instant in rushed a man breathless, bearing a
sheet of paper in his hand, and exclaiming:
"Sire Sire^ your troops are delivering their arms to the
people! In a moment they will stand where you now stand'
Sign this paper, or your hfe and the lives of all your family
P^ill be sacrificed I"
" That man was fimile de Girardin, the editor of " La Presse,"
itad the murderer ot Armand Carrel, and that paper was
t of abdication.
"Ah I this is a bitter cup," said the old King as he placed
J signature to the sheet, " and doubly bitter presented by
I a hand! Like Charles X.I"
t one o'clock, at the Bourse and at the corners of all the
cipal streets, was posted this proclamation;
"Citizens op Pasjs: The King has abdicated in favor of the
t of Paris, with the Duchess o Orleans as Regent.
' A General Amnesty.
ulution of the Chamber.
Appeal to the Country."
But the people were now in the midst of the assault
tl the Palais Royal, and to check them was Impossible.
The Palais Royal con.sistcd of two portions the Chateau
il'Eau, or palace, and the olhcr raft, which though the prop-
\tty of the Orleans family was yet rented by private persons.
'- and was occupied for cafes, shops, dwellings and places ot
entertainment adorned by colonnades and arcades, and by
trees, statues and fountains in the magnificent quadrangle.
The property of the citizens was respected that of the King
ionly was assailed. For two hours did the 14th Regiment
170 EDMOND DANTES.
pour forth its fire from the numerous windows of tlia.t edifice
and from the court below. At length, a band of bold Repub-
licans, headed by the chivalric fitienne Arago, musket in
hand, charged from the side of the Cafe de la Regence, fol-
lowed by a detachment of the National Guard, and, driving
the troops into the building, surrounded it with straw which
they set on fire. The vast edifice was instantly filled with
smoke and flame. The defense ceased. The soldiers rushed
out and were instantly slain. The commander of the de-
tachment was pierced by a bayonet. The multitude rushed
in, and the building was sacked. The richest and most
costly furniture and decorations were at once torn down,
dashed to pieces and thrown from the windows by the in-
furiated populace.
Within the Palace of the Tuileries is a subterranean pas-
sage, constructed for the infant King of Rome and his nurses,
which, plunging beneath the pavements, and passing along
the whole length of the gardens, under the terrace beside
the river bank, suddenly emerges at the gate of the Place
du Carrousel, in front of the obelisk. Into this passage,
in wild panic, descended the King and Queen of France,
with all their children and grandchildren, immediately
upon the signing of the abdication, and just as the doors were
about to be forced. Emerging from the passage, the King,
leaning on the arm of his faithful wife, Marie Amelie, and
followed by the Royal party, crossed the Place de la
Concorde as far as the asphalt pavement. The Royal
party now consisted of the King and Queen, the Duchess of
Nemours and her children, the Princess Clementine and her
husband, the Duke Augustus of Saxc-Coburg, and the Duke
of Montpensier with his young and lovely Spanish bride,
now enceinte and far advanced. Ignorant of the language,
only si.xtccn years of age, a stranger to the customs and
people of the country, and in her delicate situation, the posi-
tion of this young creature was peculiarly trying. At one
moment she clung with terror to her young husband's arm,
which she refused for an instant to resign, and the next
laughed at her own terror, saying that one who in her in-
fancy had twice, in Madrid, been saved by being carried ofT
in a sack ought not now to fear when she had tect to carry
herself away and was suffered to use them! It is said that
THE THIRD DAY.
171
1 third.
I batter
fair Scnora was forgotten in the hurry of the flight
land almost left bchindl
s soon as the Royal party were perceived, they were
' surrounded by a troop of National Guards as an escort, and
1 large number of officers of the Line in various uniforms.
The King leaned on the Queen, as if for support, while she
boldly advanced with a firm step and stern look. Both were
in deepest mourning for the recent death of the beloved
sister of the King, the Princess Adelaide.
Upon this melancholy procession the people gazed with
mingled curiosity, amusement, gratification and regret.
"They are going to the Chamber of Deputies to complete
I the abdication!" cries one.
"Vive la. Reformel " shouts another.
"Vive la France 1" shouts a second.
"Vive le Roi! " in suppressed tones faltc
"See the poor young Duchess I" cried a
'ailing herself of her peculiar rotundity a
Lto force her way through the crowd.
" She had better have remained at homel " sneered a Dynas-
f tic bitterly,
The poor little children!" exclaimed a young womaii
e remarkable for prcttincss than neatness, and more re-
fmarkable still for the scantiness of her attire, nearly all of
i which had been torn from her rounded shoulders in the
^throng.
The spirit which pervaded the mass was, evidently, by no
rjneans unfriendly to the Royal family, and it was as evidently
misunderstood by them, for, suddenly, as if by fatality, on the
very spot where Louis XVL was beheaded, just beyond the
Pont Tournant, on the pavement of the Obelisk of Luxor,
the whole party, with no apparent necessity, came to a dead
tand complete halt. Instantly the multitude was crowded
ttpon them, and this augnicntetl their terror. The King
dropptd the Queen's arm and hastily raising his hat cried,
" Vive la Reformel " All was in a moment uproar and confu-
ion. The Queen in terror at finding her husband's arm
was gone turned hurriedly on every side.
"Fear not. Madame," said a mild voice beside her. "The
people will do you no harm."
edhyGoOylf
172 EDMOND DANTES.
This was M. Maurice, editor of " Le Courrier des Specta-
cles."
"Leave me, leave me, Monsieur!" she exclaimed, in great
excitement, evidently mistaking the words. Then regaining
her husband, she again grasped his arm, and the mass at the
same time opening its ranks, the two hastened on to a couple
of those little black one-horse vehicles, chancing there to
stand, which run to St. Cloud. In one of these alrca.dy sat
the Duchesses of Montpensier and Nemours with two of the
children. In the other stood the two remaining children.
Into the latter hurriedly stepped the Royal pair. The door
was instantlc closed and the vehicle drove off at a furious rate,
surrounded by an escort of dragoons, cuirassiers and National
Guards, two hundred in number, taking the water-side toward
St, Cloud. The other carriage, similarly escorted, followed
at a like rapid pace, the children standing at the windows,
their faces pressed to the glass, gazing eagerly, with the inno-
cent curiosity of infancy, on a scene from which their future
fate would take shape.
"He is gone!" shouted a stentorian voice, breaking the
momentary stillness as the carriages, surrounded by their
escort, swept from the view.
"Let him go! Let him go!" was the stern and significant
response. "We are not regicides!"
"To the Tuileries! To the Tuileries!" was now the
tremendous shout which rose from the multitude, as they
rushed toward the deserted palace.
But the Tuileries had already fallen. It was no longer the
dwelling-place of kings.
Even before the Royal abdication was declared, even before
it was signed, the troops of the Line in the courtyard of
the palace infantry, artillery, dragoons to the number at
least of twenty-five thousand, were summoned to surrender
their posts, while the fraternal shout, " Vive la Ligue ! "
elicited from the lips of many of the soldiers the answering cry
of " Vive la Reforme! " In vain was it that Marshal Bugeaud,
the veteran of a hundred battles, menaced and blasphemed.
In vain did his old protege and subaltern, but now bitter
foe, General Lamoriciere, dashing from one end of the line
to the other on his white horse, entreat and persuade with
Chkh^Ic
THE THIRD DAY. \TA
eloquent tongue. The people insisted tlic National
Guard fraternized the Line wavered. Aod yet most immi-
nent at that moment was their own peril.
The 1st. 2d, 3(1, 4th, Bth, and lOth Legions of the National
Guard invested the Tuilerics, and others were on the march,
aecompanied by countless masses of the people. Within the
courtyard were twenty-five thousand of the best troops in
the world of every arm, and a park of ordnance charged to the
muzzle frowned upon the dense masses which swarmed the
Place du Carrousel. The watchful artilleryman stood at his
cannon's breech, with the lighted linstock in his hand, which
he kept alive by constant motion. He awaited but a word
from the pale, firm lips of General Lamoriciere, and that
vast and magnificent space now swarming with life would
have been swept as if by destruction's besom. Death in all
its most horrid forms would have been there. That pave-
ment would have run with gorel The facades of those splen-
did edifices would have been polluted with shreds and frag-
ments of human flesh, and spattered with human blood.
Yet dreadful would have been the sure retribution! Indis-
criminate massacre of all unfortunate souls wrthin that
Royal palace would have been inevitable and instantaneous.
Yet, such a catastrophe might be precipitated by a single
word! tht avalanche might be started by a single breath;
and blood once shed, Paris would he deluged!
' In the name of the people I demand to speak with the
commandant of the Tuileriesl" shouted a young man in the
uniform of an officer of the National Guard, advancing to
the iron railing of the court near the Rue de Rivoli,
_ It was Lieutenant Aubcrt Roche. The commandant was
Snt for and immediately arrived.
" Monsieur, you are lost! " cried the young man.
'ounded by sixty thousand men of the
iTational Guard, and one hundred thousand of the people of
What is demanded, " was the trembling response.
" That you evacuate the Tuilerics! resign it to the National
Guard I "
The troops shall be withdrawn, Monsieur. Orders for
the palace shall be issued instantly."
E
iT,Goot^lt.'
174 EDMOND DANTES.
"That will not do! The palace must be evacuated," in-
sisted the Lieutenant, " or the people will raze it to the
ground 1 "
" Come with me, Monsieur," said the commandant.
The gate was immediately opened, and Lieutenant Roche,
accompanied by M. Leseur, chef de bataillon, bearing a flag
of truce, followed the commandant to the Pavilion de I'Hor-
loge, where stood the Duke of Nemours, pale with excitement,
surrounded by generals.
" Monseigneur," said the commandant, " suffer me to pre-
sent a deputation from the people."
' Messieurs, what do the people demand?" asked the Duke
in trembling tones.
" The evacuation, this instant, of this palace, and its delivery
to the National Guard!"
"And if we do not comply?" asked Marshal Bugeaud,
"Then, Monsieur, you all are lost!" was the bold answer.
" This palace is surrounded by one hundred and sixty
thousand men. The combat once begun must be exterminat-
ingmust he 3. innssacrc! The 5th Legion of the National
Guard, to which I belong, is, at this moment, sacking the
Palais Royal. It may be here before we part!"
"The troops shall retire, Monsieur," said the Duke; and
on the instant orders for the retreat were issued.
The artillery went by the railing of the palace, and the
staff and the Duke of Nemours by the Pavilion de I'Horloge,
their well-trained horses descending the flight of steps. The
cavalry followed, succeeded by the infantry.
The National Guards were then introduced by Lieutenant
Roche, and entered the court of the Tuileries by the gate of
the Rue de RivoH, their muskets shouldered, with the stock
in the air. .'Kt the same moment the abdication of the King
was declared. General Lamoriciere had resigned. The Min-
istry was dissolved. There was a tremendous shout, and the
conquerors of the Palais Royal rushed in to take possession
of the Tuileries!
T,Google
LAST SESSION Of CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. ITS
CHAPTER XXn.
THE LAST SESSION OF
Thb usual bour for the opening of the Chamber of Depu-
ties was three o'clock; but the startling events of the last
two days, and especially of the last two hours, demanded that
it should be convened earlier.
At one o'clock the President of the Chamber, Sauzet, took
the chair. On the kft bank of the Seine all the approaches
were open, save the bridges of the Place de la Concorde,
where strong detachments of cavalry were posted on guard.
Within the Chamber all was solemnity. About three hun-
dred members were present. The opposition seemed joyous
and confidant, though anxious. The conservative party was
Iroubled. The Ministerial benches were deserted.
At half-past one the President turned round in his chair,
and kept his eye fixed upon a side door, as if expecting
some one to enter. Suddenly a bustle was heard in that di-
rection, and the Duchess of Orleans, in deep mourning, at-
tended by her two sons and followed by the Dukes of Mont-
pensier and Nemours, entered. The latter was received with
marked expressions of dislike. The Count of Paris, garbed
in complete black, was conducted through the crowd to the
space in front of the President's chair; the Duchess followed
and seated herself in a fauteuil upon the same spot. On each
side of her was one of her sons, and behind her stood her
brothers, the Dukes of Nemoars and Montpensicr. This
position was subsequently changed for one more distant, but
Otherwise remained throughout relatively the same.
Being seated, the Duchess rose and bowed repeatedly to
the assembly. At the same moment an immense multitude
of National Guards and the people rushed in through the
passages, and despite the shouts of the officers, " You cannot
enter' " the space beneath the tribune was instantly and
densely thronged. At the same time the public tribune were
invaded by a second body of the people.
For some minutes the greatest uproar prevailed. At length
it comparatively ceased, and, in a moment of quiet, M. Dupin,
D had accompanied the Duchess of Orleans to tlvt Coa.'mlsust,
riii-,i-,Goeit^le
176 EDMOND DANTES.
ascended the tribune. The stillness was instantly as great
as liad been the previous agitation.
" The King has abdicated," said M. Dupin. " The Count
of Paris is nominated as his successor and the Duchess of
Orleans as Regent"
"It is too latel" shouted a man from the gallery of the
" The Count of Paris is proclainied King by the Chamber
and the Duchess of Orleans Regent!" exclaimed the Presi-
dent.
"No no no!" was the almost unanimous shout that now
rose in the Chamber.
" I demand," cried M. Lamartine, " that the Royal family
withdraw I"
The question was put, and the Duchess and her sons, after
great hesitation, were drawn away to a side door, at the
further end of the hall. At the same moment a new crowd
of the people rushed in and took seats beside the opposition
members, by whom they were welcomed.
"I demand to speak!" cried M. Marie. "By the law of
1842, the Duke of Nemours is Regent. How can the King
abrogate that law? I demand a provisional govet
"A provisional government!" cried N.
made a mistake in '30. Let there be no mistake in '48! "
"A provisional government," said the Abbe Genoude, a
Legitimist; " but it must be the will of the people! "
M. Odillon Barrot, who had been long expected, now en-
tered and immediately mounted the tribune.
' The crown of July rests on the head of a woman and a
child!" cried the great lawyer.
The Duchess of Orleans instantly rose, as if about to
speak, but, at the urgent solicitation of those around her, re-
sumed her seat.
" I call on the country to rally around this woman and
this child," cried M. Barrot, " the two-fold representative of
the principles of July, '30! "'
The voice of the speaker was drowned in shouts of dis-
sent and of "Vive !a Reformel "
"I dissent from the opinion of M, Odillon Barrot!" cried
the Marquis de la Rochejacquelin. " If he is right, the
people are nothingl "
T,Google
LAST SESSION OF CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES, m
_ "Order orderl" cried the President, putting on his li^t,
but he was at once induced to remove it.
At this moment another vast crowd burst into the Chamber,
garbed in a style so heterogeneous as to be grotestiue- some
witli blouses some with dragoon helmets on their heads,
some with weapons and many with flags.
Down down down with the Throne!" was the terrible
cry of this infuriated mass.
"I demand that the silting be suspendedl" cried M. de
Mornay.
"There can be no session at such a moment," said the
President, putting on his hat.
" Oa off ofi with your hat, President!" cried the popu-
lace; and several of their muskets were at once pointed at the
President. The hat was removed.
The scene was chaos!
"Bewarel" shouted M. Chevalier, editor of the Historical
Library. " Beware how you make the Count of Paris King!
A provisional government we must iirst havel"
" What right have you to speak? " shouted a man. " Vou arc
not a deputy! "
" In the name of the people, silence! " roared a tcrrilic voice
that drowned every other.
It was the voice of Ledru Rollin.
Many of the deputies now withdrew, and their places were
filled by the people. The Duchess of Orleans sat calmly amid
the uproar, and the Duke of Nemours with equal calmness
stood behind her chair.
"The throne has been tumbled from the windows of the
Tuileries and is now burning in the Place de la fiastille! " cried
M. Dumoulin, who commanded the Hotel de Ville in July
of '30, displaying the tri-eolor flag.
"No more Bourbons! Down with the Bourbons! Down
with the traitors! A provisional government!" shouted the
people.
"Aye, a Republic!" cried M. Chevalier.
Cremieux, Ledru Rollin and Lamartine were at the same
time in the tribune.
"In the name of the people, silence!" again roared the
awful voice of Ledru Rollin.
"A provisional government!" shouted one of the people.
.,Got)'
gk_
178 EDMOND DANTES.
" Yon shall have a provisional government! " exclaimed
M. Maguin.
" In the name of the people in the name of the people
of Paris in arms," again began Ledru Rollin, " I protest
against this King and this Regency. The constitution of
'9 demands the will of the people to fix a Regency. Yet the
law of '42 makes the Duke of Nemours Regent, and now
it is the Duchess of Orleans. I protest against it all! I de-
mand a provisional government!"
" Question question! " shouted M. Berryer. " A provi-
sional government!"
"In 1815," continued Ledru Rollin, "Napoleon abdicated in
favor of the King of Rome. The King of Rome was refused.
In 1830, Charles X. abdicated in favor of his grandson. The
grandson was rejected. In 1848, Louis Philippe abdicates
in favor of his grandson the Count of Paris! "
" Question question! " again vociferated M. Berryer, " We
all know those histories!".
" In the name of the people," continued Ledru Rollin, " I
demand a provisional government, named by the people
Hot by the Chamber but by the people! "
Tremendous shouts followed, and M. Lamartine, who had
stood beside Rollin in the tribune, now took his place amid
renewed shouts.
.Mter an eloquent speech on the same side as his friend,
he concluded by demanding a provisional government, with
an appeal to " the people the entire people all who by
the title of man have rights as men."
While Lamartine was yet speaking, a violent knocking was
beard at the door o the Chamber, which was forcibly burst
open and a vast crowd rushed in,
" Down with the Chamber! Down with the Deputies! "
shouted the populace, and muskets were instantly leveled
at Lamartine, and, also, at the Royal party,
"It is Lamartine! it is Lamartine!" was the cry of terror
that rose from his friends.
The mnskcts were lowered.
The Duchess and her parly were at once withdrawn from
the Chamber by a side door, and having first retired to the
HiHel des Invalidcs. ncM Hcd to the Rhine; the Duke of
.Y.wours lied to Boulogne and thence to England.
.uxle
r
LAST SESSION OF CHAMBER OF DEPUTIES. ITO
' Silence silence silence 1 " shouted the President, vio-
lently ringing his bell. But the nproar only increased. " I pro-
nounce this session closed!" cried the President, and putting
on his hat he instantly left the chair.
Here ends the Chamber of Deputies.
A large number of the members withdrew with the Presi-
dent, but the opposition remained, and with them the people
and the National Guards.
After the noise incident to this departure had subsided, the
venerable M. Dupont de I'Enrc, a gray-headed old ttian of
eighty, was, by unanimous acclamation, placed in the Presi-
dent's chair. Lamartine still remained in the tribune, and re-
peatedly strove to make his voice heard, but in vain.
" In the name of the people, silence, and let Lamartine
speak!" at length was heard in the thunder tones of Ledm
'~ ' ing above all other sounds.
Silence for a moment being obtained, Lamartine exclaimed:
"Citizens! a provisional government is declared! The '
of the members will now be announced by the Presi-
dent! "
Lamartine then descended from the tribune; applause and
uproar succeeded.
"The names of the members nominated for a provisional
government I will now read to you/' said the aged President,
rising and displaying a paper.
The following names were then read, and were repeated
as they came one after the other from the speaker's mouth
by (he reporters in loud tones; Lamartine, Ledru RoUin,
Arago, Dupont de I'Eure, Marie, Georges Lafayette; all were
received with general approbation.
" The members of the Provisional Government must be con-
ducted by the people to the Hotel de VJlle and installed!"
ric(l a voice from the crowd.
m " Let us adjourn to the Hotel de Ville, Lamartine at the
nad!" said M. Bocage.
Immediately Lamartine, accompanied by a large number of
citizens, withdrew. But a great multitude .still remained upon
the benches and in the semi-circle of the Chamber.
"Citizens!" cried Ledru Rollin, "in nominating a pro-
1 government you perform a solemn act an act which
be performed in a furii
,Got.)'
^
ISO EDMOND rfANTES.
repeat to you tlie names you have chosen, and as they are
repeated, you will say 'yes' or 'no,' precisely as they please
you; 1 call on the reporters of the public press to note the
names and the manner in which they are now received, that
France may know what is here done."
The names of Dupont de I'Eure, Arago, Lamartine, Ledru
Rollin, Cr^micux, Gamier Pages and Marie were then read
out, and all, except the last two which were received with a
few negatives were confirmed by unanimous acclamation.
The names were then engrossed in capitals on a sheet of
paper and borne around the Chamber on the bayonet of a
National Guard that all might read for themselves.
" I have one more word to say," cried Ledru Rollin. "The
Provisional Government has immense duties to perform. We
must now close this meeting, that the Government may be
able to restore order stanch the flow of blood, and secure to
the people their rights."
To the Hotel de Ville! to the Hotel de Ville! " responded
the people in a tremendous shout. "Vive la Republique! to
the Hotel de Ville!"
Headed by Ledru Rollin the excited multitude withdrew,
and at four o'clock all was as silent in the Chamber of Depu-
ties as if not a voice had resounded or a footstep had echoed
within its walls for centuries. In the distance, however, could
be heard the repeated shout:
"Vive la Republique! to the Hotel de Viilel "
CHAPTER XXIII.
ScABCFLY had the carriages conveying the Royal family dis-
appeared on their flight toward St. Cloud, when the whole
mass of the populnce poured as with one simultaneous pur-
po=;e into the deserted palace. The Palais Bourbon had al-
ready been sacked; a like fate might be supposed to awaii
the Tuilcries; but the Tuileries belonged to France, not to ihe
HousQ of Orleans, and a ceTlain respect was observed for
everything but the insignia, o^ Ro-saM-V- ^'^^ "i\\;s: *=, =V\QVNa
TfJE SACK OP THE TUILERIES. 181
no regard. The throne itself of the slate reception-room
that throne on which sat Louis Philippe for the first time,
as King of the French, ere the Tuileries became his throne
was lorn from its base, and, having been hurled first in deris-
ion from the windows into the court, was bovue in mock
triumph on the shoulders of men, who shouted that now the
throne was indeed supported by the people, to the Place de la
Bastille, and there consumed to ashes. In the courtyard, in
the Rue dc Rivoli and on the quays, huge fires roared,
fanned into fury by a hurricane of wind, and fed by richly
carved furniture, gilded chairs, canopies, pianos, sofas, beds,
costly paintings, splendid works of art and the Royai car-
riages glittering with gold. The magnificent tapestries of the
Gobelins were borne as streamers, in frantic fury, along
the boulevards; mischievous gamins were frolicking about in
the long scarlet robes worn upon Court occasions, which
they had filched from the Royal wardrobe; the escritoire of
the King, the key having been found in a tea-cup, was ran-
sacked, and private letters, books and the garments of ladies
were strewn about the court and gardens of the Tuileries.
The cellars of the palace were soon filled with the insurgents;
but they declared the wine bad, as it never remained long
enough in the cellars of kings to get good! Destruction, not
pillage, seemed the order of the hour, and to guard against
robbery the people took upon themselves the arrest and pun-
ishment of offenders. The walls bore the menace, " Robbers
shall die!" In several instances the threat was carried into
immediate execution, and bodies, suffered to lie on the spot
upon which they had been cut down, bore on their breasts the
label "Thief!" in terrible warning. Sentinels also stood
at the gates, and no one was allowed to leave the palace
without rigorous search.
In the apartments of the Duchess of Orleans, the table was
found spread for the dinner of herself and her children; upon
the table were the little silver cups, forks and spoons of the
young Princes, and on the floor were scattered their costly
toys. The latter were gathered carefully up by a workman
in a blouse, and as carefully concealed in a corner. The
former, together with all jewels and other valuables found
in the apartments of the Duchess, were deposited in a bathing-
tub, on which 3 workman scati^d himself as guard a,t\d va&^%4.
.,Gi.)t.)'
g^
183 EDMOND DANTES.
no one to approach until the aforesaid valuables could be
conveyed by a detachment of the Polytechnic School to the
Government treasury. The story runs that, on the night
succeeding the sack of the Tuileries, the conquerors chose
a king and queen, and that, in the palace hall, was spread
a banquet composed of the viands found in the Royal kitchen
and the wines found in the Royal cellars. The queen, who
was a soubrette more noticeable for beauty than for cleanli-
ness of person, garbed in Royal robes which she well be-
came, and with a coronet upon her stately brow, was seated
in a chair of state and received the most extravagant homage
from her willing subjects, while groups of gamins, in the long
crimson liveries of the Royal household, boisterously frol-
icked before the sans culotte court amid roars of merri-
ment.
CHAPTER XXIV.
Generally, the rogues throughout Paris, intimidated by the
awful, immediate and certain penalty for crime, forsook, for
the time, their calling. A man who attempted to fire the
Palais Royal was shot at the Prefecture. Another, for a like
attempt on buildings in the Rue Monccau, met a like fate.
In the Rue Richelieu lay the bodies of two thieves, each
with a ball through the breast, and over the aperture the
word "Thief" on a label. In like manner were eight more
robbers executed at once oh the Place de la Madeleine. A
woman of the street wrested a bracelet from a lady's wrist:
she was instantly seized by the bystanders and shot. But
for this summary punishment of malefactors by the people.
dreadful that night would have been the state of Paris,
without laws to enforce or a police to enforce them. It is true
the Chateau of N'euilly was sacked and burned, as well as the
splendid villa of the Baron Rothschild at Parennes; but both
were supposed to be the property of the King. It is true, also,
IhRt some rails on the Northern Railway were torn up and a
viaduct between Paris and Ktmews, a.\\i a-no'i.\\iLt ^lKeen
A MEMORABLE NIGHT. 183
Amiens and the frontier of Belgium were demolished; and that
the railway stations of St. Dents, Enghien and Pontoise and
the bridge at Asnieres had been destroyed; but all this was
done lo prevent the concentration upon the citizens of Paris
of additional Royal troops.
A workman entered a house and demanded bread. Meat
and wine were offered him, " No," was the reply, " bread and
water are all that I want."
Yet such was the scarcity of food that horses were killed
and eaten at the Hotel de Ville, on the third day of the
Revolution.
"Arms arms!" shouted a band of workmen, entering a
house on the Rue Richelieu. The proprietor, alarmed,
shouted for help. "Do you think us robbers?" was the
indignant reply. " Give us your weapons! "
The weapons were given and the band retired; on the door
they wrote, " Here we received arms! "
At five o'clock, on the evening of the 24th of February, a
proclamation to the citizens of Paris, issued by the Pro-
visional Government then in session at the Hotel de Ville^
declared the Revolution accomplished tliat eighty thousand
of the National Guard and one hundred thousand of the
people were in arms that order as well as liberty must now
be secured, and the people, with the National Guard, were
appointed guardians of Paris.
The effect of this proclamation was magical. Never was
Paris so well protected as on that night of the 34th of Febru-
ary, when, filled with barricades, she had no police and was
guarded by her citizens.
And how was constituted the Provisional Government
whose power was thus implicity obeyed? It was founded
by the people who obeyed it. This was the only secret.
From the Chamber of Deputies to the Hotel de Villc
proceeded the members of the Provisional Government.
They marched under a canopy of sabres, pikes and bayonets
into halls stained with blood and encumbered with the slain,
and there, at a small table, while the conflict between the two
Republics had already commenced, within an hour had they
organized their body by the nomination of Armand Marrast,
of " Le National," Ferdinand Flocon, of " La Reforme,"
Albert, a workman, and Louis Blanc, t\\e ed\\.oT *.yi4 wi.'OrvOT,
184 EDMOND DANTES.
as Secretaries of the Government; their first official act was
to issue a proclamation to the people.
The scenes witnessed the night which succeeded in Paris
will never be forgotten by those who witnessed them. Pa-
trols promenaded the streets, the men of the barricades slept
upon their weapons, beside their works, and through ' all
that night ceaselessly toiled the press to spread over all the
world the news of the great events of the three past days
in Paris.
Upon the door of an edifice situated in the Rue Jean Jac-
ques Rousseau a street which was filled with barricades of
immense size and strength was posted a printed Placard,
"The Provisional Government," lighted by a single lamp.
Entering the door was a vast multitude, and ascending the
dark and winding staircase, you found yourself in a large
room, dimly lighted and crowded with armed men.
It was the editorial apartment of the office of " La Ri-
At a large and massive table sat a dozen persons most
industriously employed in writing. Around them, looking
on, rose the rough, stern faces of the men of the barricades,
seeming still more rough and stern by reason of the shadowy
light; in the hands of all were weapons.
" .\ copy of the names of the members of the Provisional
Government ! " was the incessant demand of these armed
men, a demand which the dozen writers at the table were
unable even by most indefatigable industry to supply as fast
as made: And as fa^t as the demand was satisfied, the armed
men would hurry away, only to leave room for the crowds
constantly entering.
"A copy for the Hotel de Ville!" cried one.
"A copy for the Place Vendome!" shouted another.
"A copy for the Palais Bourbon!" screamed a third.
"Are there no printed copies left?" asked many.
"They were gone long ago twenty thousand copies,"
was the reply. "You will see one at every corner. The de-
mand was not expected. The printers have just gone to
sleep. They had not rested for fifty-two hours."
"Will 'La Reforme' appear in the morning?" asked
"Perhaps so," was the answeT, "'^vi'i. a\\ Vne people are
I
A MEMORABLE NIGHT. 185
writers and compositors. Here is your copy
of the names."
"Many tlianks. Vive la Republiquel "
With this shout, in concert with the same which con-
stantly issued from a hundred lips, the citizen folded up
his precious document, and carefully depositing it in his
cap hurried off to communicate its contents to his comrades
of the neighboring barricade.
In another apartment of that same edifice were a large
number of the Republican party connected with " La Re-
" The Provisional Government is now in session," said one.
" They will, doubtless, make immediate provision for de-
partments of State so important as the post-office and the
prefecture of police. Early to-morrow a proclamation "
" To-motrow may be too late," interrupted a large and
muscular man. "The post-office is more active than ever to-
night. Every moment couriers are arriving and departing.
That powerful instrument remains in the hands of the foes
of our cause! Who may estimate the injury, the irrepara-
ble injury which they may this night accomplish by its
This man was Etienne Arago, brother of the great astrono-
mer, and, for sixteen years, celebrated as one of the boldest
members of the Republican party, as well as one of the
bravest men in Paris.
' And the prefecture of police," observed another" the
present utter derangement of all its functions may lead
to most serious results. Already those foes of freedom, Guinot
and his colleagues, have been suffered to secure their escape
from the just indignation of an outraged people. Delessert,
the Prefect, has also fled! "
The man who said this was Marc Caussidiere, a well-
lown Republican.
"Citizens!" cried M. Gouache, "this state of things must
continue no longer. In the name of the people, I demand
ihat Etienne Arago immediately assume the charge of the
posl-office, as its director, and that Marc Caussidiere fill the
position of Prefect."
L This demand was confirmed hy acc\amalio'n, atvi co'm-C\t'.it'i
18S EDMOND DANT^S.
for the installation of the nominees into office at once ac-
companied them to their respective departments.
The immense edifice of the post-office was surrounded by
people, and its numerous windows were flashing with lights.
Within the utmost activity seemed to prevail, and without
couriers were leaving and arriving every tnonient, and
mail coaches were dashing up to discharge their burdens, or,
having received them, were dashing off.
" In the name ot the people, entrance for Citizen fitienne
Arago, Republican director of the post-office!" shouted one
ot the committee.
Instantly a passage through the immense crowd in the
courtyard was cleared by the National Guard, and the di-
rector entered with his escort.
"In the name of the people. Citizen Dejean, you are dis-
missed," said :tienne Arago, entering the private cabinet of
the Director General.
" And who is to be my successor? " asked the astonished
Count, rising to his feet.
" In the name of the people, I am sent to displace and
to succeed you," was the answer.
" But your commission. Monsieur? "
" Is here." pointing to the committee.
" Before I resign the direction of this department," said
the Count after some hesitation, " I must ask of you
for some record of this act, bearing your signature, to be
deposited m the archives of the office."
" Certainly, Monsieur, your request is but reasonable,"
answered Arago, seating himself in the official chair. And
writing a few lines to which he affixed his signature, he coolly
handed the document to his astonished predecessor. It
contained notice of his own appointment by the people, in
place of the Count Dejean, dismissed.
The Count read and folded the paper, and having made
a copy of it, which he laid carefully in his porte-monnaie,
he placed the original on file among the papers ot the day
belonging to the department. Then, courteously bowing,
he took his hat and cane and marched out of the building.
dhvCotJi^lc
THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT.
CHAPTER XXV.
THE PROVISIONAI, GOVERNMENT.
In the Hotel de Ville, closely doseted, sat the Provisional
Government of France. Over that stern old citadel, over
the dismantled Palace of the Tuileries, from the tall summit
of the Column of Vendome, over the Hotel des Invalides
and in the Place de la Bastille is seen a btood-red banner,
streaming out like a meteor on the keen northwestern
blast. Eighty thousand armed men invest the Hotel de Ville,
and wave on wave, wave on wave, the living and stormy
tide eddies and welters and dashes around that dark old pile.
All its avenues are held; its courts are thronged; ordance
frowns from its black portals and against its gates; drums
roll banners stream bayonets glitter; and from those tens
of thousands of hoarse and stormy voices goes up but one
shoiit of menace and command:
"Vive la Republique! Vive la R^publique! No kingsl No
Bourbons! Down down forever with the kings! "
And upward to that dark old pile of despotism, as to the
temple of Liberty herself, are turned those tens of thousands
of swarthy faces, dark with the smoke of battle, yet livid with
excitement and exhaustion and as they realize that within
those walls the question of their fate and that of their country
is then being settled that from that night's counsels in that
vast and ancient edifice are to flow peace and prosperity, and
freedom and plenty, or else all the untold terrors of anarchy,
civil war. bloodshed, violence and strife what wonder that
the sitting of the council seemed endless and their own im-
]iatience became intolerable that all imaginable doubts and
fears and absurd apprehensions took possession of their
inflamed imaginations? that at one time the rumor should
fly, and win credence as it flew, that the Provisional Govern-
ment were consulting with the friends of Henry V. or
again, that they were considering the question of a Regency
.-ind that under such influences they should roar and yell,
and thunder for admission at the gates, and burden the air
with their shouts?
"Xo Bourbons! No kings! No Reaciic\\ Vlcix."* CcTj.'On \n
Jciags! La Bipubliquel La Ri:iittVV\(\uc\ \.a 'ft.tvAsM^^QP-*-'^"
nieiii7^t^fvGoOt^le
188 EDMOND DANTES.
At times, in terrific concert, would the thousands of up-
lifted throats roar forth the chorus o that startling canticle
of '92:
"Vive la rfipuhliquel Vi la rfpubUque!
Then the song would change and the mournful notes of
the " Death Hymn of the Girondins," " Mourir Pour la
Fatrie " would swell in wild yet solemn cadence on the
wintry blast:
DEATH HYMN OF THE GIRONDINS.
To die on Freedom's Altar lo die on Freedom's Altar 1
'Tis (he noblest o( fal: wbo to meet it would fatten
And thus all that terrible night, even until the morning's
dawn, thronged those men of the barricades around the
Hotel de Ville, and all the night, even until the morning's
dawn, calmly continued those men of the Provisional Gov-
ernment of the French Republic, amid menace and man-
date, uproar and confusion, in their noble, yet arduous work.
At midnight a proclamation of the Provisional Government
was read by torchlight to the excited masses by Louis Blanc,
from the steps of the Hotel de Ville, declaring for a govern-
ment of the people by itself, with liberty, equality and fra-
ternity for its principles, while order was devised and main-
tained by the people which served somewhat to allay their
apprehensions and distrust. This proclamation appeared in
. all the morning journals, and was placarded all over the city
the next day.
That (lay was Friday, the 33th of February. But slill
the Provisional Government remained in session, and still
the armed masses of the barricades, in congregated thou-
T,Google
THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT. 1H9
i, rolled in tumultuous billows around the Hotel de Ville.
At length the populace, exasperated by impatience, hunger
and sleeplessness, with brandished bayonets rushed into the
very chamber of council, with furious cries, and with threats
wliich were well nigh accomplished. Again and again, at the
entreaty of his colleag-ues, did the brave, the eloquent, the wise
Lamartine present himself upon the steps of the Hotel de
Ville to assuage and quiet the rising tempest. Again and
again, throughout that fearful day, did he come forth, single-
handed, to wrestle with violence, turbulence, anarchy and
strife; and again and again, beneatli the magic of his
eloquent tongue, the storm lulled, the tempest ceased. Again
and again, throughout all that fearful day, were the acts of
that noble Government matured and sent forth. Proclama-
tion followed proclamation, and no branch of society seemed
forgotten.
The names of the members of the Provisional Government
were again published. Caussidiere and Sobrier were con-
firmed in the police department, and fitienne Arago in that of
the post-office. Merchants of provisions were recommended
to supply all who were in need; and the people were recom-
mended to still retain their arms. The Chamber of Deputies
was dissolved, the Peers were forbidden to meet, and the con-
vocation of a National Assembly was promised. To all labor-
er? labor was guaranteed and compensation for labor. At
noon the garrison of the fort of Vincennes was announced
to have acknowledged the Republic, just as the people were
about to march upon it. To insure order and tranquillity, the
Municipal Guard was disbanded, and the National Guard en-
trusted with the protection of Paris under M. Courtais, the
commandant, who was ordered immediately to recruit twenty-
four battalions for active service. All articles pledged at the
Mont-de-Pieie, from February 4th, not exceeding in value
ten francs, were ordered to be returned, and the Tuileries was
decreed the future asylum of invalid workmen. An attack on
the machinery of some of the printing offices was checked
by a proclamation.
General Bedeau was appointed Minister of War, General
Cavaignac Governor of Algeria, and Admiral Baudin to the
command of the Toulon fleet. On the part of the army Mar-
shal Bugeaud and on the pari ot iVie c\eT^ "L\ve, ^fW^'iMw^
r - ,i-,Goeit^le
190 EDMOND DANTES.
Archbishop of Paris gave in their adhesion to the Repuhlic,
while the entire press, Bourgeoisie and the Provinces hesitated
not an instant., Indeed, from all quarters came in adhesions
to the Republic. The Bonapartes were among the firsr.
Barrot and Thiers also came, but too late to save themselves
from contempt. Mr. Rush, the American Minister, the first
of foreign ambassadors acknowledged the Republic. The son
of Mehemet All was next. The Papal Nuncio succeeded, to-
gether with the Ministers of the Argentine Republic ami
Uruguay. Next came the ambassador of England; but those
of Austria, Prussia, Russia and Holland awaited instructions
from home little dreaming of the news they were about
to receive! The city of Rouen sent three hundred of ils
citizens, as a deputation, with abundant supplies of arms,
by the morning cars of the railway.
At about noon, the Pont Louis Philippe was destroyed
by fire. Henceforth it is to be " Le Pont de ta Reforme."
And so with all other names. Royal is to give place to
Republique, and " Liberte, Egalite et Fraternite" is to be
again inscribed on all public monuments.
The children of citizens killed in the Revolution were de-
clared adopted by the country. The civil, judicial and admin-
istrative functionaries of the Royal Government were an-
nounced released from their oaths of office, the colonel-; f
the twelve legions of National Guards were dismissed, and
oil political prisoners set free. Every citizen was declared
an elector, and absolute freedom of thought, the liberty
of the press, and the right of political and industrial associa-
tions secured to all were proclaimed.
t for the arrest of the late Ministers was issued by
Procureur-General, M. Portalis, based on an act
sented to the Court of Appeals. But all of
them had fled. Guizot is said to have escaped from the Foreign
Office in a servant's livery. When the people broke into hi?
hotel, they found only his daughter, and retired. The other
members of the Ministry are said to have leaped from a
low window of the Tuileries, and to have escaped at the
moment of the King's abdication. M. de Cormenin was ap-
pointed Conseilleur d'Etat and M. Achille Marrast Procureur-
General to the Court of Appeals in Paris, in place of the ref-
T,Google
THE PROVISIONAL GOVERNMENT. 101
Stieh were some of the acts of the seven men constituting
the Provisional Government of th? French Republic, during
their first extraordinary session of sixty-four hours from
the hour of four o'clock in the afternoon of Thursday after
the dissolution of the Chamber of Deputies to the hour of
four o'clock in the morning of Sunday, the ^Tth of February,
when the people of Paris consented to retire to their homes.
But during all of this period, night and day without inter-
mission, every moment was the Hotel de Ville surrounded
by tumultuous masses infuriated by suspicion, apprehension
and distrust. For two whole days and two whole nights armed
men incessantly inundated the square, the courts and halls
of the Hotel de Ville. They insisted on giving to the Republic
the character, the attitude and the emblems of the
first Revolution they insisted on a Republican violent,
sweejiing, dictatorial and terrorist, in language, in gesture and
in color, in place of that determined on, moderate, pacific,
legal, unanimous and constitutional. At the peril of their,
lives the Provisional Government resisted this demand.
Twenty times during those sixty-four hours was Lamar-
tiue taken up, dragged, carried to the doors and windows or
to the head of the grand staircase, into the courts and the
siiuare, to hurl down with his eloquence those emblems of
terrorism, with which it was attempted to dishonor the
Republic. But the vast and infuriated mass refused to
listen, and drowned his voice in clamor and vociferation.
At length, when well-nigh exhausted in defense of the em-
blem of a moderate Republic, he exclaimed: "The red flag
has been nowhere except around the Champ-de-Mars, trailed
in the blood of the people, while the tri-color has been around
the world with our navy, our glory and our liberties! "
The furious and hitherto obdurate and blood-thirsty popu-
lace became softened tears were shed, arras were lowered
flags were thrown away, and peaceably they departed to
their homes. Never never was there a. more glorious
triumph of eloquence of patriotism!
It was on the morning of Sunday, the 27th day of Feb-
ruary, that the Provisional Government deemed it prudent
and proper tor them to bring to a close their initiative labors,
and once more, tor the last time, LaToatXme 4cstcvvCit& &.
jfeps ol the gre^t staircase ot the H.oVcV its N"^\c, mi&, ^--
,Goe^t^le
103 EDMOND DANTES.
senting himself in front of the edifice surrounded by his col-
leagues, announced to the vast assembly the result of their
protracted toil:
Royalty abolished
A Republic proclaimed
The people restored to their political rights
National workshops opened
Tlie army and National Guard reorganized
The abolition of death for political ofTences.
With louder and more prolonged ace Umati oris than an;
other decree was this last received. And, instantly, in accord-
ance with this proclamation, the director of criminal affairs,
on the order of M. Cremieux, Minister of Justice, dispatched
on the wings of the wind, all over France, the warrant to
suspend all capital executions which were to have taken place,
in virtue of Royal decrees, until the will of the National
Assembly, at once to be convened, should be promulgated
on the subject of the penalty of death. The effects of this
decree, as it sped on the lightning's wings, like a saving angel,
all over France, may be imagined perhaps, but portrayal is im-
possible! Who can imagine even the joy, the rapture it
brought to many a dungeon-prisoner, who was counting the
hours that yet remained to him of life and preceded his
awful doom, or to those who sorrowed over his untimely
^perchance his unjust fate!
Leaning on the arm of Louis Blanc, the youngest member
of the Government, the venerable Dupont de I'Eure, the eldest,
accompanied by the other members, now appeared on ihe
balcony of the room formerly called the Chamber ot the
Throne, but now the Chamber of the Republic! Lamartine
then advanced a step before his colleagues, and in a brief and
eloquent address proclaimed to that immense throng the ex-
istence of the Republic.
The announcement was received with acclamations of joy,
and shouts of "Vive le Gouvernement! " "Vive Lamartine!"
"Vive Louis Blanc!" mingled with those of "Vive la
Repnblique!" loudly rose.
From the Hotel de Ville, the Provisional Government pro-
ceeded in a body, despite the rain which fell in torrents,
accompanied by the people, to the Place de la Bastille, there
T,Google
DANTES AND MERCEDES. 193
officially to inaugurate the Republic, agreeably to announce-
At the appointed hour, the Place de la Bastille was thronged.
The National Guard, consisting of two battalions from each
of the twelve legions of Paris, together with the Thirteenth
Legion of cavalry and two battalions of the Banlicu, were
drawn up from the Church of the Madeleine to the Column
of July. And, there, at the base of that column erected in
commemoration of the Revolution which had made Louis
Philippe King of the French, his downfall was commemo-
rated, and on the ruins of the throne then established was
now inaugurated a RepublicI
During the ceremony of the inauguration, the " Mar-
seillaise " was sung by the National Guard and the people, and,
at its conclusion, about the hour of three, the troops filed off
before the Column of July to the thrilling strains of " Mar-
seillaise " and the Mourir Pour la Patrie " of the Girondins.
The members of the Provisional Government, preceded by a
detachment of the National Guard and accompanied by the
pupils of the Polytechnic School and the Military School of
St. Cyr, then descended the boulevards, followed by the whole
of the military and civic array, who chanted the national songs.
The effect was stupendous. Hour after hour the immense
procession moved on like a huge serpent through the streets
of Paris; and, at length, when its head was at the Hotel de
Ville. its extremity had hardly left the Column of July.
It was night, on Sunday, the 3Tth of February, when the
members of the Provisional Government, for the first time
during four days, returned to their homes. But their work
was aecomplishcd. A Republic was gained, proclaimed and
inaugurated!
CHAPTER XXVI.
DA NT is AND UERCiD&S.
It was a tempestuous night. The wind howled dismally
through the streets of Paris, and the rain and sleet dashed
fiercely against the casements. At ii\U'c\a.\& a. -N'fi.i. ^qm-^
,Got.l'
g^
194 EDMOND DANTES.
might be caught as the blast paused in its furious careefj and
then a distant shot might be heard. But they passed away,
and nothing save the wail of the storm- wind or the rushing
sleet of the winter tempest was distinguished.
But, while all was thus wild, dark and tempestuous without,
light, warmth, comfort and elegance, rendered yet more de-
lightful by the elemental war, reigned triumphant within a
large and splendidly furnished apartment in the noble man-
sion of M. Dante^ the Deputy from Marseilles, in the Rue
du Helder. Every embellishment which art could invent,
luxury court, wealth invoke, or even imagination conceive,
seemed there lavished with a most prodigal hand. The soft
atmosphere of summer, perfumed by the exotics of a neigh-
boring conservatory, delighted the senses, the mild effulgence
of gaslight transmitted through opaque globes of glass melted
upon the sight, while sofas, divans and ottomans in luxurious
profusion invited repose. To describe the rare paintings, the
rich gems of statuary and the other miracles of art which
were there to be seen would be as impossible as it would be to
portray the exquisite taste which enhanced the value of
each and constituted more than half its charm.
Upon one of the elegant sofas reclined Edmond Dantes,
his tall and graceful figure draped in a dressing robe, while
beside him on a low ottoman sat his beautiful wife, her arm
resting on his knee, and her dark, glorious eyes gazing with
confiding fondness into his face.
Mercedes was no longer the young, light-hearted and
thoughtless being who graced the village of the Catalans.
Many years had flown since then and many sorrows passed
over her. Each of these years and each of these sorrows,
like retiring waves of the sea, upon the smooth and sandy
beach, had left behind its trace. No, Mercedes was not now
the young, light-hearted and thoughtless girl she once was;
but she was a being far more perfect, tar more winning, far
more to be loved she was a matured, impassioned, ac-
complished, and still, despite the flight of years, most lovely
woman. She was one who could feel passion as well as
inspire it. and having once felt or inspired it, that passion,
it was plain, could never pass lightly away. Her face could
not boast, perhaps, that full and perfect oval which it for-
merly had, but the lines of care and of reflection, which hen
DANTES AND MERCEDES. 195
and there almost imperceptibly appeared, rendered it all the
more charming. In the bold yet beautiful contour of those
features, in the full red lips, in the high pale forehead and,
above all, in those dark and hauating eyes lay a depth of feel-
infi and profundity and nobleness of thought, which to a re-
flective mind have a. charm infinitely more irresistible than
that which belongs to mere youthful perfection. There was
a bland beauty in the smile which slept upon her lips, a dcH-
caty of sentiment in the faint flush that tinged her soft check,
and a deep meaning in her dark and eloquent eye which told
a whole history of experience even to a stranger; while the
full and rounded outline of the figure, garbed in a loose robe
of crimson, which contrasted beautifully with her luxuriant
dark tresses, had that voluptuous development and grace
which only maturity and maternity can impart to the fe-
male form. In short, never had Mercedes, in the days of
her primal bloom, presented a person so fascinating as now.
She was a woman to sigh for, perchance to die for, and one
whom a man would willingly wish to love for, if he might
but hope she would live for him, or, peradventure, he might
Lvcn be willing not only to risk, but ultimately to resign
his life, would that fair being not only live for him, but
love him with that entire and passionate devoledness which
beamed from her dark eyes up into his who now gazed upon
her as she sat at his feet As for him, as for Edmond Dantes,
his figure had now the same elegance, his hand the same
delicate whiteness, his features the same spiritual beauty,
his brow the same marbJe pallor, and hi's eye which beamed
beneath its calm expanse the same deep brilliancy which,
years before, had distinguished him from all other men and
made the Count of Monte-Cristo the idol of every salon in
Paris and the hero of every maiden's dream. Yet that face
was not without its changes. Years, care, thought and sorrow
had done their work; in the deep lines upon his brow nnd
cheek, in the silvery threads which thickly sprinkled \\.\-i
night-black hair, and, more than all, in the mild light of
those eyes which once glowed only with vindictive hate or
gratified revenge and in the softened expression of thouc
lips which once, in their stern beauty, had Hut eurlcd with
scoru or quivered with rage could be rend thut the laue tit
._awii.r^^'-,_GaU^!s;^
198 EDMOND DANTES.
time, though it might, indeed, have made him a. sadder man,
had made him also a better one.
The husband and wife were alone. They still toved as
warmly as ever, and, if possible, more fondly than when
first they were made one.
Dantes stretched himself out on the sofa, and Mercedes,
dropping lower upon the low ottoman at his side, passed her
full and beautiful arm around his waist and pressed her lips
to his forehead. He returned the embrace with warmth, and
placing his own arm about her form, drew it closely to his
bosom. Thus they remained, clasped in each other's arms,
and thus they fixed on each other eyes beaming with love,
passion, bliss, happiness unutterable.
"My own Edmond! " murmured Mercedes. "At length
you are again with me all my own! "
" Am I not always your own, dearest? " was the fond
reply.
" But during the week past, I might almost say during
the month past, you have been compelled to be so often
absent from me."
"Ah! love, you know I was not willingly absent!" was
" No no no but it was hardly the more endurable for
that," said the lady, with a smile. "Oh! the anxiety o the
last three days and nights! Dearest, I do believe I have
not slept three hours during the whole of those three days
and nights! "
"And I, dear, have not slept one!" was the laughing re-
joinder.
"But all is over now, is it not?"
" In one sense all is over, and in another all now begins.
The monarchy is ended in France, I believe, forever. The
Republic has begun, and, I trust, will prove lasting."
" And all the grand objects for which you have been
striving with your noble colleagues for years and years are at
length accomplished, are they not?"
" That is a question, love, not easily answered. That
the cause of man and France has wonderfully triumphed dur-
ing the past three days is, no doubt, most true. But this
victory, love, I foresaw. Indeed, it was but the inevitable
rcsuit of an irresislib\e tavise, \X wa.s neither chance, love,
DANTES AND MERCEDES. 197
nor a spontaneous burst of patriotism that, on the first day,
filled the boulevards with fifty thousand blouses, which on the
second won over to the people eighty thousand National
Guards, and on the third choked the streets of Paris with
barricades constructed by engineers and defended by men
completely armed. The events of the last three days, Mer-
cedes, have been maturing in the womb of Providence for the
past ten years. It is their birth only which has now taken
place, and to some the parturition seems a little premature,
1 suppose. This banquet caused the fright that hastened the
event," added Dantes, laughing.
" You are very scientific in your comparisons," replied Mer-
cedes, slightly blushing, "and I suppose I must admit, very
apt. But tell me, love, is all over? That is, must you he
away from me any more at right, and wander about. Heaven
only knows where, in this dark and dangerous city, or Heaven
only knows with whom or for what? "
Dantes kissed his fair wife, and, after a pause, during
which he gazed fondly into her eyes, replied:
" I hope, I trust, I believe, dear, that all is over at least
all that will take me from you, as during the past week.
France has or will have a Repubhc. That is as certain as
fate can make it. But first she will have to pass through
strife and tribulation perhaps bloodshed. The end surely,
love, is not yet. But France is now comparatively free. The
dreadful problem is now nearer solution than it ever was.
Labor will hereafter be granted to all, together with the
adequate reward of labor. Destitution will not be deemed
guilt. The death-penalty is abolished. The rich will not
with impunity grind the poor into powder beneath their
heels. Asyliims for the suffering, the distressed, the aban-
doned of both sexes will be sustained. The efforts which, as
individuals, we have some of us made for years to ameliorate
the condition of mankind, to assuage human woes and aug-
ment human joys, will henceforth be encouraged and directly
aided by the State. This Revolution, love, is a soctel Revolu-
tion, and during the sixty-four hours the Provisional Govern-
ment was in session, in the Hotel de Ville, I became thor-
oughly convinced that the thousands and tens of thousands
who, with sleepless vigilance, watched tVicw ^icicttSv&^*i,
had learned the deep lesson too weW to \ie latWw &it^\-it^
198 EDMOND DANTBS.
and that the fruits of the Revolution they had won would
not again be snatched from their lips,"
" And the result of this triumph on the people you be-
lieve has advanced the cause of human happiness?" asked
Mercedes.
" Most unquestionably, dear, and most incalculably, too,
perhaps."
"All your friends are not as disinterested as 'you have
been, Edmond,*' said Mercedes.
" And why think you that, my dear? "
" For six full years I know you have devoted all your
powers of mind and body and all your immense wealth to
one single object."
" And that object? "
" Has been the happiness of your race."
"Well, dear?"
" And now, when a triumph has been achieved now,
when others, who have been but mere instruments blind in-
struments, many of them, in your hands to accomplish they
knew not what come forward and assume place and
power you, Edmond, the noble author and first cause of
all, remain quietly in seclusion, unknown, unnamed, un-
appreciated and uncommended, while the others reap the
fruits of your toil! "
"Well, dear?" said Dantes, smiling at the warmth of his
wife in his behalf.
" But it is not ' well,' Edmond. I say no one is as dis-
interested as you."
"Ah! love, what of ambition?"
Mercedes smiled.
" Let me tell you all, love, and then you will not, I tear,
think me disinterested," .said Dantes seriously. " I should
blush, indeed, at praise so little deserved. You know all my
early history. I suffered I was wronged I was revenged.
But was I happy? I sought happiness. All men do so, even
the most miserable. Some seek happiness in gratified am-
bition, some in gratified avarice, some in gratified vanity,
and some in the gratification of a dominant lust for pleasure
or for power. I sought happiness in gratified revenge! "
Mercedes shuddered, and, hiding her f.ice on the bosom
of her husband, clung Vo \l moi:& Q.\o*e\^ a,^ "\^ ^^.^ protection.
DANTES AND MERCEDES. 199
Dantes drew her form to his as he would have drawn that
of a child, and continued:
" I sought happiness in vengeance for terrible wrongs,
and to win it I devoted a life and countless wealth. What was
the result? Misery! miseryl misery! "
"Poor Edmondl" murmured MercWes, clinging to him
closer than ever.
" At length I awoke, as from a dream. I saw my error.
My whole life had been a lie. I saw that God by a miracle
had bestowed on me untold riches for a nobler purpose
than to make his creatures wretched. I saw that it I
would be happy I must make others happy, and to this
end the happiness, not the misery, of my race must my
wealth and power be devoted. To this end, then, did I
devote myself, and to this end, for six years, have I been
devoted to make myself happy by making others happy
you among the rest, dear, dear Mercedes," he added, pressing
her to his bosom. "And am I then so disinterested?"
" But why should you achieve tnumpha for others to
enjoy, Edmond?" asked the wife.
" You refer to the Provisional Government," said Dantes
with a smile. " Well, I see I must tell you all, even though
by the revelation I prove myself utterly unworthy of the
praise of disinterestedness. I may tetl you, love you my
second self without danger of being charged with egotism,
what I might not say to others. Our friend Lamartine is the
actual head of this Government. I had but to assent to
the urgent entreaties to secure that position for myself.
These appointments seem the result of nomination by the
people. Yet they are noti"
" And why did you refuse to head the Government, Ed-
mond?"
" I am ashamed to confess to you that I feared to accept,"
said Dantes after a pause. " My own selfishness, not, alasl
my disinterestedness, has kept me from the post of peril.
Perhaps, indeed, I can do far more for the cause of my race
as I am than I could by sacrificing myself for office and
position; at least, I hope so."
" Is the position of your friends then so perilous? " asked
Mercedes.
T,Google
800 EDMOND DANTES.
"Dearest, they stand upon a volcano!" said Dantes, sol-
" Hal " cried the lady in alarm.
" Mercedes Mercedes! " continued Dantes with enthusi-
asm, "I sometimes am startled with the idea that to me
have been entrusted the awful powers of foreknowledge,
of prophecy, so fearfully true have some of my predictions
proved! The events of the past week I foresaw and fore-
told, even to minute circumstances and the hours of their
occurrence. And now glorious as is the triumph that
France and the cause of man have achieved I perceive in
the dim future a sea of commotion! All is not yet settled.
Within one month, revolution will succeed revolution
throughout Europe! Berlin, Vienna, and Madrid, perhaps
also St. Petersburg, London, and all the cities of Italy,
will be m revolt. All Europe must and will feel the events
of the past week in Paris. Europe must be free!"
" And our friends Lamartine Louis Blanc? "
"Within six months Louis Blanc will be an exile, and La-
martine he may be in a dungeon or on a scaffold! "
"Ah!" exclaimed Mercedes, clinging yet more closely to
her husband.
' But the cause of human happiness, human right and
human freedom will live forever! That must be, will be
eternal as eternal, my adored Mercedes, as is our own
deathless love!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
ESP^RANCE AND ZULEIKA,
During the whole period of the memorable Revolution
Zuleika never once saw her brother, though she was burning
with a desire to have an interview with him on the subject
that had caused the separation between her young Italian
lover and herself, Esperance made his home behind the
barricades, from the time the struggle began until the people
finally triumphed; gun in hand, he fought as heroically as
the most devoted workman, leM\es&\v &Y,vo%\tv4'n.vo\stU wheo-
ESpArANCE and ZVLEIKA. 201
ever the troops pressed his comrades in arms and always
in the thick of the fight. Begrimed with dust and powder,
his garments torn by bullets and bayonet thrusts, his hat
battered and rent, he encouraged the people by word and
example, constantly shouting " Vive la Republique," and con-
tending for liberty with the bravery of a lion and a per-
sistency that never flagged. He, however, escaped without
a single scratch, returning to the paternal mansion utterly
worn out, but altogether unhurt, proud of having done his
duty as a man and a patriot, and of having sustained the glor-
ious cause for which his father was working heart and soul.
As he was slowly and wearily wending his way homeward,
he suddenly encountered M. Dantes and his friend Lamar-
tine in the Rue Richelieu; his gun was on his shoulder, and
in his tattered attire, with the dust and powder on his face
and hands, he had the exact appearance of an insurrectionist
and a barricader. He touched his hat in military fashion
to M. Dantes and his illustrious companion, and was about
passing on when his father recognized him and, ragged and
begrimed as he was, threw his arms enthusiastically about
his neck. M. Lamartine watched the Deputy from Mar-
seilles and could not restrain an expression of astonishment
at his singular behavior. M. Dantes smiled and, taking Es-
perance by the hand, said:
" M. Lamartine, you will, I know, make every allowance
for me when you learn that this young man, who has been
fighting behind the barricades with the people, is my son!"
The head of the Provisional Government instantly grew as
enthusiastic as M. Dantes himself; he grasped Esperance's
free hand and, shaking it with the utmost cordiality, ex-
claimed:
" Your son, M. Dantes! Let me congratulate youl Why
he is a perfect hero!"
" I have but followed my father's teachings and done
what he would have done had he been my age and unable
to serve the great cause of human freedom in a more effec-
tive way I "
M. DantSs eyes sparkled with joy and a faint shade of
color appeared upon his pale cheeks.
"What is your name, young patriot'? " askei'yi..\A'max'C\t,
202 EDMOND DANTES.
his excitement and enthusiasm continuing to hold possession
" Esp^rance," was the reply.
" Esp^rance hope the name is both appropriate and aus-
picious; with such heroic young men as you fighting for our
cause there is, indeed, hope, and of the brightest and best
kind!" cried Lamartine.
"Nay, nay," said M. Dantes, "do not flatter the boy; he
has but done his duty."
"Believe me, I do not flatter him," returned Lamartine;
"I have simply told him the truth; in time he will rival
the devotion and achievements of his noble father!"
"Enough, enough," said the Deputy, modestly; "we de-
serve only the credit of executing God's will we are merely
instruments in His omnipotent hand! " he added, impressively.
" And such instruments are exactly what we need in the
present crisis. God grant us plenty oi them!"
The next morning Zuleika encountered Esperance on the
stairway; she led him into the salon, and, when they were
seated, said:
" My brother, I have a question to ask of you."
A shadow crossed the young man's brow, and he quickly
" Is it about the Viscount Massetti? "
" Yes."
"Then I must refuse to answer I"
" But the matter concerns my happiness, nay, my very
life itself; think of that before you finally refuse to answer
my question! "
Esperance hastily and excitedly arose from his chair and
stood in front of his sister.
" Zuleika," said he, in an agitated tone, " beware of that
man beware of Giovanni Massetti!"
"Beware of Giovanni, Esperance and why?"
The young man began to pace the salon with short and
nervous steps; his hands twitched convulsively, and his face
had suddenly assumed the whiteness of chalk.
" Zuleika, Zuleika," he murmured, " I cannot, I cannot
teil you why? It would crush you to the very earth and
make you blush with shame that you had ever listened to
the seductive tones oi that dovAA^j \a\?.t W.'&i.ti* Nivsftt"
.GcKl'^le
ESPERANCE AND ZULEIKA. 303
"But, Espf ranee," said Zuleika, "papa certainly knows all
about Giovanni; if he did not altogether approve of his
character and conduct, he would never have consented to
admit him as a suitor for my hand!"
"A suitor for your hand, Zuleikal My God! has he then
" He has done nothing that an upright and honorable man
should not do!" interrupted Zuleika, warmly. "He did not
even call here until he had written to papa and obtained his
full permission to do so."
" Zuleika," said Espfrance, approaching his sister and
taking her hand, " no doubt Giovanni Massetti has con-
ducted himself in all respects toward you like a perfect
gentleman, but, nevertheless, he is not ht to be my sister's
husband."
" But papa "
" Has been deceived, as have many others, in regard to the
true character and standing of this so-called Roman noble-
"And is he not a nobleman?"
" Once more I must refuse to answer any question in re-
gard to him. I can only tell you to beware and shun him
as you would a venomous serpent."
" Esperance, I love him!"
" Love him! you love him, Zuleika! Oh! this is, indeed,
The young man dropped his sister's hand and flung him-
self upon a divan. He was a prey to the most intense ex-
citement
Zuleika, deeply affected to see him thus, and remembering
Giovanni's mysterious behavior, together with his strange
and ominous words, when she had questioned him in regard
to his quarrel with Esperance, felt for a moment shaken and
uncertain. She also recollected that, at the time of the in-
explicable difficulty between the two young men, she had
heard rumors to the effect that a youthful member of the
Roman aristocracy had abducted a beautiful peasant girl,
in which affair he had been assisted by the notorious brigand
Luigi Vampa; the matter, however, had almost immediately
been hushed up and she had learned none of the circum-
stances. Could it be possible ttiat GiO'a,Ti'cv\ 'W.a.^&t'Ott "w
204 EDMOND DANTts.
the youthful aristocrat alluded to by the gossips and scandal-
mongers of the Eternal City that he was the abductor
of the unfortunate peasant girl? She could not entertain
such an idea, and yet that abduction, in spite of all her ef-
forts, would associate itself with her Italian lover in her
mind.
She arose from her chair and, going to the divan, seated
herself beside Esp^rance, determined to make a final attempt
to draw his secret from him. Throwing her arms tenderlj
about his neck, she said, in a coaxing tone:
" If any sound reason exists why I should not love Gio-
vanni Massetti, and you know it, your plain duty as my
brother is to teJl me. Will you not tell me, Esperance?"
Instead of replying, the young man buried his face in bis
hands and fairly sobbed in his anguish. Zuleika was filled
with pity for him, and, as she gazed at him, tears came into
her eyes; but still bent on discovering the nature of the ob-
stacle that had so suddenly loomed up between Giovanni
and herself, she continued after a pause, in the same coax-
ing voice:
" Esperance, I am no longer a child and should not be
treated as one. What I ask of you is only reasonable and
just. If I stand on the brink of a gulf I cannot see, it is
your duty to inform me not only of my danger but also
of its nature. Am I not right?"
Heaving a deep sigh, Esperance replied:
" Yes, you are right, Zuleika; it is my duty to tell you all
and yet I cannot!"
" At least, tell me why you are compelled to maintain
silence on a matter of so much importance."
"Did you question the Viscount?"
' I did."
"And what answer did he return?"
" Like you, he refused to answer."
" Ah! ihcn he has some sense of shame left! "
" Shame? "
"Yes, sliiime! And what did you do when he refused to
speak? "
" I left him,"
" And you will tint we him again? "
"Not until he h.as di'cidcd to tell me all." *
,Got)gle
ESPERANCE AND ZULEIKA. 205
" Ther you will never put eyes upon him more; he dare
not tell you! "
" Dare not! And why? "
" Because, did you know the depth of his infamy, you would
spurn him from you!"
Suddenly a grave suspicion stole into Zuleika's mind
and made her tremble from head to foot. Might it not be
that Esperanee had been as deeply involved in the mysterious
and infamous affair of which he dechned to speak as Giovanni
Massetti himself? The thought was torment, and totally
unable to restrain her keen anxiety to be instantly informed
upon this topic, Zuleika gasped out:
" Were you not, Esperanee, as guilty as your former
friend? "
The young man leaped to his feet as if a tarantula had
bitten him.
"No, no!" cried he. "I was innocent of all blame m the
matter! Luigi Vampa "
He abruptly checked himself and stood staring at his
sister, as if in dismay at having unguardedly uttered the
brigand's name.
But Zuleika said nothing. Giovanni Massetti also had
protested his innocence, and the young girl knew not what
to believe. Luigi Vampa? So then he had been a party to
this mysterious and terrible business, whatever it was! And
again she thought of the abduction of the beautiful peasant
girl. Could that be the fearful secret? Yes, it must be.
Luigi Vampa had assisted in that abduction, if report could bt
relied on, and the chief criminal had been a youthful member
of the Roman aristocracy. Oh! it was all plain now. Zuleika
shuddered and felt her heart grow heavy as lead, while a
sharp, killing pang ran through it. Had Esperanee been mis-
led by Vampa and the Viscount? Had he discovered too late
the infamy of the afifair and challenged Massetti on that ac-
count? This was, doubtless, the solution of the whole enigma,
and yet Zuleika hesitated to accept it as such. No, no,
she could not accept it without further and more con-
vincing proof! But how was that proof to be obtained?
Neither the Viscount nor her brother would speak; it was
evident that their lips were scaled; possibly an oath to main-
tain silence had been extorted from Hvem uu4 \Aft'Wift. ;-
Chkh^Ic
208 EDMOND DANTES.
cumstances an oath they feared to break even to cleat
themselves from a foul suspicion. But Vampa? He mighl,
perhaps, be induced to give the itey to the mystery. Vampa,
however, was far away in Rome and inaccessible. Zuleika
made a wild resolve she would write to- the brigand and
throw herself upon his generosity; then she decided that the
plan was impracticable; her letter would never reach Vampa
it would be seized by the Roman authorities and might
cause additional trouble by reviving a smothered scandal
and even should it reach the brigand, would he answer it?
The chances were a hundred to one that he would not
At this instant an inspiration came to the tortured girl like
a flash of lightning. Her father had known Vampa in the
past, and, perhaps, still possessed some influence over him.
She had heard the story of AIbert.de Morcerf's adventure in
the catacombs of Saint Sebastian, and was aware that the
brigand chief had released him from captivity without ran-
som at her father's simple solicitation. Would not Vampa
answer her questions if M. Dantes could be influenced to
write him and ask them? She had full faith in her father's
power to get a letter to the bandit notwithstanding all the
vigilance of the Roman authorities. Yes, she would go to
him, tell all her suspicions without reserve and beg him to
write the letter; it was hardly likely he would refuse; he could
not, he must not. Thus resolved, Zuleika looked her brother
full in the face and said, calmly:
" I see I torture you with my questions, Esperance, that
for some reason best known to yourself you cannot answer
them, and that it is useless to torment you further. But
something must be done and that at once. I am going
to my fatherl "
Esperance caught her wildly by the arm.
"You are mad!" cried he.
"It is you who are mad you and Giovanni! I tell you
I am going to my father; if you are innocent, you have
nothing to fear from any revelation I may make I "
With these words she freed herself from her brother's
grasp and quitted the salon, leaving Esperance standing in
the center of the apartment as if he were rooted to the
spot.
T,Google
CAPTAIN JOUETTE'S LOVE. 307
CHAPTER XXVHI.
CAPTAIN joliettb's love.
I small but cosy and elegant suite of apartments in
1 on the Rue des Capucines resided Mile. Louise
d'Armilly and her brother Leon; as has already been stated,
the celebrated cantatrice had retired from the boards in con-
sequence of having inherited a fortune of several millions of
francs from the estate of her deceased father, who, rumor
asserted, had been a very wealthy Parisian banker; Leon had
abandoned the stage simultaneously with his sister, who had
invited him to share her suddenly acquired riches; for strange
to say, the banker had not bequeathed to him a single
sou.
The immense inheritance had been a complete surprise to
Mile. d'Armilly and for some time she had hesitated to
accept it, as a condition imposed by the will was her imme-
diate withdrawal from her operatic career, and the prima
donna was as ambitious as gifted; but, finally, she had
yielded to the persuasive eloquence of the notary and the
earnest entreaties of her friends, canceling all her engage-
ments, and with them abandoning her bright professional
future.
The director of the Academic Royale demanded a large
sum to release the artiste from her contract with him, and
this was paid by the notary with an alacrity that seemed to
suggest he was not acting solely according to the directions
of the will, but was influenced by some personage who chose
to remain in the background; the notary also paid all other
demands made by the various operatic managers who claimed
they would lose by Mile. d'Armilly's failure to appear; these
amounts were not deducted from the legacy, a circum-
stance that gave additional color to the supposition that the
will of the deceased banker was not the sole factor in the
celebrated cantatrice's good luck.
One evening, shortly after Paris had again quieted down,
Mile. d'Armilly was seated in the little apartment that served
her as a salon, and with her was her brother Leon. The con-
trast between the pair seemed inlenB\&t4 Vcv ^w*\ \-fi.t.
208 EDMOND BANTES.
Louise had that dark, imperious, majestic beauty usually
possessed by brunettes; her figure was full and finely devel-
oped, her black eyes had the deep, intense fire of passion,
and her faultless countenance, glowing with health and love-
liness, indicated at once firmness, decision and caprices with-
out number. Leon, on the contrary, was delicate and femin-
ine in appearance; he had exceedingly small feet and hands,
and a single glance at his strikingly handsome face was
sufficient to convince any experienced judge of human nature
that he possessed a mild and yielding disposition. The young
mari bore not the remotest family likeness to his sister, and
it was difficult to realize that they could be in any way re-
lated.
Leon quitted his sister and, going to a piano that stood
in one corner of the apartment, softly opened it and com-
menced lightly running his fingers over the keys; then he
seated himself at the instrument and played an air from
" Lucrezia Borgia " with brilliancy and effect that only a
finished performer could attain. At the first notes Louise
arose and approaching the piano stood beside the player, her
eyes sparkling with appreciation and delight. So absorbed
were the brother and sister that they did not hear a soft
knock at the door, and only at the conclusion of the air did
they realize that a visitor was in the apartment, Leon sprang
from the instrument in confusion, behaving like a startlcil
girl, but Mile, d'Armilly, with perfect self-control, turned to
1 said, in a tone of mingled coquetry and
" So, so, Captain JoHette, your military career has ac-
customed you to surprising the enemy to such an extent
that it has become second nature with you, and you cannot
avoid carrying your favorite tactics even into private life!"
Captain Joliette, for it was, indeed, he, bowed and an-
swered with a smile:
"You must allow me solemnly to protest against classing
yourself and your brother with the enemy! You are, both
of you, very dear friends!"
"Especially Louise!" said Leon, with a sly look and a
pretty little ringing laugh.
"Leon, Leon, when will you learn wisdom!" exclaimed
T, Google
CAPTAIN JOUETTES LOVE. 80
Mile. d'Artnilly, a blush mantling her visage, and adding to
its voluptuous beauty.
"Never, I suppose!" returned her brother, still laughinn.
" But 1 am already well acquainted with the value of dis-
cretion and, therefore, vtfill withdraw!"
As he uttered those words, Leon kissed the lips of his
fingers to Louise and Joliette, and lightly ran from the
salon. When he had disappeared the Captain folded Mile.
d'Armilly in his arms and kissed her tenderly upon the
forehead.
"Oh! Louise," said he, enthusiastically, "I love you more
and more every day!"
The former artiste gently disentangled herself from his
'embrace and, smiling archly, led him to a chair; then she
sat down upon another at a short distance from him.
"No, no," said Joliette, warmly; '"come and sit beside me
on the sofa. Even Leon sees that I adore you, and all my
friends in Paris are aware that I am seeking your hand in
marriage. Why will you be so formal and distant with me! '"
She arose and did as he requested; Joliette, seated at her
side, put his arm about her waist. Louise did not resist,
but still maintained an air of coquetry that was displeasing
to the ardent young soldier.
" Albert," she said, in a low, musical voice, " do you,
indeed, love me as you say?"
"Love you, Louise!" cried Joliette. "I would lay down
my life for you! "
" Are you quite sure you love me for myself and not be-
cause of the resemblance you say I bear to the woman you
once so ardently admired? What was her name? ah!
Eugenie Danglars!" said she, looking at him with a piercinji
gaze.
" Quite sure, Louise, quite sure. Besides, Mile, Danglars
has disappeared, has not been seen or heaid of for several
years, and, no doubt, is dead."
"And yet you do not mourn for her! Tfow strange!"
" I never loved her as I love you, Louise. Eugenic Dan-
glars was a capricious and eccentric girl, and had she lived
would have been a capricious and eccentric woman, tt was
well for me she vanished when she did! But, Vj-j \Vt n-j,
another singular aad inexplicable coVncidtticc va "CdaX \-awi
14
Hflc
210 EDMOND DANTkS.
(I'Armilly, the name you bear, was also the name of Mtle.
Danglars' music teacher. I cannot understand it at all! "
" There is no necessity for you to understand it. Any-
how, it is a coincidence, as you say nothing more."
"Well, Louise, let us speak no further about either the re-
semblance or the coincidence, Suifiee it that I love you, and
you alone that I love you for yourself."
" Your words make me very happy, Albert," replied Mile.
d'Arniilly, and her full red lips looked so luscious, ripe and
alluring, that Johette could not resist the temptation to
bestow a long, burning kiss upon them.
" Be my wife, then, dearest Louise," cried the Captain,
" and I will prolong your happiness until death shall strike
"Ah! Albert, men are so fickle; they become infatuated
with women and declare and, no doubt think, they could
pass their lives at their charmers' feet; but possession dulls
the luster of the brightest jewel, and the devoted lover is
speedily replaced by a careless, if not faithless husband, who,
instead of making his wife happy as he has sworn to do,
forsakes her side to bask in the smiles of sirens."
" It will never be so with me, my own, my love! " protested
Joliette, kissing her again and again. "' I swear it."
" I know the value of a lover's oath, Albert," murmured
Louise, with a meaning look. "When I was the brightest
operatic star of the day many of them were breathed in iny
ear, but they were ' trifies light as air,' forgotten as soon
as uttered. Besides, should I consent to become your wife,
you would be forced to leave me in France and return to
Africa in obedience to the call of duty; the lovely women
of Algeria are prodigal of their beauties and endearments,
and under the spell of some subtle Arab enchantress you
would either forget poor Louise d'Armilly allogether, or
remember her only as a clog upon your pleasures and am-
orous delights."
" Nay, nay, you wrong me; among all the dusky sirens
of Algeria there exists not one who could make me forget
you for a single instant; they are brazen, shameless women,
who love with a recklessness and boldness that can only
disgust a Frenchman."
" But they can dazzle even a Frenchman, render him df
CAPTAIN JOUETTE'S LOVE. 211
lirious with passion and, ere he is aware, weave a web around
him through which he cannot break. My heart tells me
you are as susceptible to feminine wiies as the rest of your
countrymen, and that, perhaps, you have already had half-a-
dozen love affairs in Algeria."
"OhI Louise, Louise, it grieves me to the soul that you
can thus doubt me. Give me a chance to prove my love
and you shall be more than satisfied that I can be loyal and
Mile. d'Armilly gazed at him with a singular expression
on her dark beautiful countenance; it thrilled Kim to the
very marrow of his bones, and caused his arm that was
about her waist to tremble violently; at that moment the
former cantatrice resembled Eugenie Danglars more than
ever; her breath was hot and convulsive as it struck his cheek,
and a faint suspicion that all was not right that she was
playing a role with him, shot across his mind for the first
time; with this suspicion came jealousy, and, releasing her
waist, he said, in a gasping tone:
" You have another lover, Louise, a lover you prefer to
me am I not right?"
Mile. d'Armiily laughed a short, nervous laugh, and an-
swered in a voice that seemed to mock him:
" I have had hosts of ardent admirers in my time. Do
you refer particularly to any individual?"
"I know not; I am beside myself with passion for you,
and the mere fancy that another man may have the first
place in your heart is unbearable to mel But there is one
conclusive way in which you can prove my suspicion my
jealousy groundless; marry me!"
" Albert," replied Louise, with a renewal of the singular
expression of countenance that had so agitated him, " I shall
never marry any one; I cannot I dare not!"
The young man was startled as if by an electric shock;
he drew back and gazed at her with wide-opened eyes, speech-
less from astonishment.
After a brief pause, Mile. d'Armilly continued, in a dry,
hard tone:
" You do not understand me and I cannot expect you to,
- lor I can neither tell you my motWcs not Xa.'j ^)*it wca **
312 EDMOND D ANTES.
history to you; you must be content with my decision 1
shall not marry! "
Captain Joliette, strong man as he was, could not control
his emotion; he buried his face in his hands and groaned
aloud. The young woman gazed at him half pityingly,
half triumphantly; she felt compassion for her stricken lover.
but, above all, gloried in the overwhelming power of hei
charms that could so subdue a manly, victorious yomiH
soldier and make him her helpless slave.
"Is there then no shadow of a hope?" at length asked
Joliette, in a hoarse whisper.
" Not the shadow of a hope! " replied Mile. d'Armilly,
firmly. " Yoii can be my friend, my brother, if you will, but
never my husband."
Tlic young man recoiled in horror at the suggestion that
seemed to be conveyed by this permission,
"What do you mean by friend?" he asked, a cold shiver
passing through him,
lervous laugh, and, looking him
n. I love you better than any
osc to his feet and stood staring'
scruples waging n. bitter battli'
The temptress half reclined on
ivc grace and voluptuous beauty,
if to seize her in his arms; then.
.suddenly checking himself, he asked, with a. convulsive gasp;
"And that man that one?"
"Was separated from me forever through the machin-
ittions of that mysterious and cold-blooded fiend, the Count
of Monte-Cristo!"
"The Count of Monte-Cristo?" exclaimed the young man,
lost in amazement.
" Yes, the Count of Monte-Cristo, who afterwards dis-
appeared from Pari.'i and has not since been heard of."
"You mistakt-; the Count of Monte-Cristo is in Paris now:
lie calls himself Edmond D.inles and is the celebrated Deputy
from Marseilles over whom everybody has gone wild for
,Mllc. d'Armilly's eyes flashed with fury.
Lou
he 1:
lugh
ed
a
ihort, I
full in
the
eyes
;pli.
:d:
"Yc
u know
what
I meai
Capl
lain ;
lohc
e'
slo
wly an
at her
, his
pa-
jsio'
nd his
within
him
for
th
: mastery.
the so
fa, a
mir:
acic
of
.seduct
He mi
3ved
tow
ard
hi
r a) il
,Got)gle
CAPTAIM JOLIETTE'S LOVE. 313
"Then I will have my revenge upon him at last!" she
cried. " I will amply repay him for introducing the so-called
Prince Cavakanti into my father's house and thus breaking
off the match between Albert and myself."
W "Albert?"
B " Yes; Albert de Morcerf."
^K " Now, Eugenie Danglars, I know you and it is useless for
^ou to attempt the denial of vour identity longer!"
The young woman leaped up from the sofa, with terror
pictured upon her visage, and, seizing Captain Joliette by
the arm with a powerful grasp, cried out:
" .\nd how, pray, do you know I am Eugenie Danglars?"
" You unwittingly betrayed yourself by revealing the
names of Monte-Cristo and Cavalcanti. Besides, Euginte,
look at me well I am Albert de Morcerf I"
With a wild cry the retired prima donna sank back upon
the sofa.
"You Albert de Morcerf!" she exclaimed. "I cannot be-
lieve it! "
' But my motlier, the former Countess lie Morcerf, who is
now the wife of Edmond Dantes, will voucli for my identity."
The young woman passed her hand across her forehead
" If you are Albert de Morcerf, you must despise mc after
what has taken place this evening," she said, bitterly.
" Despise you? No, I pity and forgive you."
"Albert," said she, softly, "come here and sit beside me
on this sofa; I have something to say to you."
The soldier obeyed; when he was seated, he said;
"Eugenie, why did you tell mc I could be your friend?"
" Simply because I have long suspected your secret and
wished to ascertain the real nature of your feelings toward
me. You not only resisted a terrible temptation, the most
terrible temptation to which a young, ardent and passion-
smitten man can be exposed, but by your honor conclusively
cslablished the purity and sincerity of your love. Oh! Albert,
Albert, arc you satisfied with my. explanation and do you
sliU think mc worthy of you? "
' My own Eugenie, my happiness is far too great for
words!" murmured the delighted young man, gathering bis
,.,i.Goo;
^
214 EDMOND DANTES.
beautiful companion in a warm embrace and repeatedly kiss-
ing her ripe lips and blushing cheeks.
It was soon known throughout Paris that Captain Joliette
and Albert de Morcerf were identical, and that Mile. d'Ar-
milly was in reality no other than Mile. Eugenie Danglars,
daughter of Baron Danglars, the once famous and opulent
Parisian banker; the report also was current that Albert
and Eugenie were engaged and would shortly be united in
the bonds of matrimony. Another bit of gossip was to the
effect that the former cantatrice's brother Leon was not a
man but a woman; in short, the real Louise d'Armilly, who
hiid loaned her name to Eugenie Danglars and assumed male
attire solely for professional purposes. This story was speed-
ily confirmed, for Leon soon vanished and in' his place ap-
peared a most attractive and fascinating lady, who very
quietly assumed, or rather resumed, the name of Louise
d'Armilly. Still another rumor was that the wealth so
strangely inherited by the former prima donna was not a
legacy at' all, but a gift from the mysterious Count of .Monte-
Cristo, who had thus striven to make amends to the daughter
for the misfortunes he had, while pursuing his scheme of
wholesale vengeance, so remorselessly heaped upon the head
of the father.
CHAPTER XXIX.
ZULEIKA GOES TO M. DANTES.
M. Dantes was sitting alone in his library, busily engaged
in reading a favorite work on the subject of political econ-
omy, and from time to time making copious notes. It was
after midnight, and the vast mansion on the Rue du Hclder
was as silent as the tomb; the lamp on the Deputy's table
burned brightly, but a large metallic shade concentrated the
light and reflected it upon the table, so that the other por-
tions of the apartment were shrouded in almost complete
darkness.
As M. Dantes read a siradow suddenly fell on the page
of his book, and quickly looking up he saw his daughter
ZULBIKA GOES TO M. DANTES. 315
Zuleika standing beside him, tears were in her eyes and a
look of melancholy rested upon her countenance.
"Why, child," said her father, in a startled tone, "what
is the .matter with you? You are weeping and seem very
sad. Has anything happened to young Massetti? "
" Not that I am aware of, papa," answered Zuleika, in a
low voice. " But, nevertlieless, it is of him I wish to speak."
M. Dautes pushed his book from him, motioned his daugh-
ter to a scat and prepared to listen; as she did not begin at
once, but seemed to hesitate, he said, kindly:
" I am waiting, little one; proceed."
Thus encouraged, Zuleika summoned up all her strength
and, with downcast eyes, commenced:
Papa," said she, "in the first place let me assure you
that this is no mere lovers' quarrel, but a matter of the ut-
most importance that demands immediate action.''
M. Dantes knitted his brows.
' Has the Viscount been guilty of any impropriety toward
you? " he asked, fiercely.
" No, papa, not toward mc, but I fear he may have been
guilty of impropriety, or, at least, of indiscretion, with rc-
ga.rd to another in the past."
I " A woman, no doubt."
[ "Yes, papa, a woman a Roman peasant."
" 1 heard of some such thing while you were at the
convent school in Rome, but dismissed it as a slander."
" There may, however, be some truth in it."
" But, now I recollect, Giovanni's name was not associated
with the scandal; it was a mere inference on my part that
connected him with the youthful member of the Roman
aristocracy mentioned by the gossips."
" Perhaps I am unjust, papa, in reviving your suspicions,
but Giovanni's strange behavior when I asked him the cause
of his quarrel with Esperance and of the continued coldness
between them, forced me to think there was something
wrong."
" His quarrel with Espcrancc? Ah! now I remember.
there was a quarrel, but I imagined it was settled, and that
their relations were altogether friendly."
"They are enemies, papa, or seem to be, and that is not
.,Gl.)t.)'
g^
Sia EDMOND DANTES.
all Esperance accuses Giovanni of having been guilty of
some infamous deed."
"You have spoken to Esperance then on the subject?"
" Yes, papa,"
"And what did he say?"
" He dealt in vague denunciations, and positively refused
to give me any definite information."
" That is singular."
" But what is still more so is that both Giovanni and
Esperance seem bound by some fearful oath not to disclose
the dread secret in their possession."
"Bound by an oath?"
"Yes, papa; but why both of them should have been so
bound, unless they were accomplices, I cannot see; I even
went so far as to accuse Esperance of complicity, whereupon
he grew as white as chalk and protested his entire innocence,
and in his confusion uttered the name of Luiga Vampa."
" Zuleika, Zuleika, you certainly misunderstood your
brother; he could not have mentioned the name of that man!
Do you know who this Luigi Vampa is? "
" Perfectly, papa; Luigi Vampa is a notorious Roman
" Exactly, my child, and therefore could not possibly have
had any dealings either with the Viscount or Esperance."
" But I am sure of the name, nevertheless. Esperance
said Luigi Vampa."
M. Dantes was evidently startled; be arose to his feet and
paced the library excitedly. Zuleika had expected this, and
hence was not surprised. At last her father resumed his
seat, and when he again came within reach of the lamp's
rays she saw that his visage was even more palbd than usual
and tliat he was not a little agitated. She waited for him
to speak, and in a few seconds he did so.
"Zuleika." said he. in a tone of decision, "I will sec both
the Viscount and my son in regard to this matter, for now
that Luigi Vampa seems to have had a share in it, close in-
vestigation is imperatively demanded."
" You may interrogate them, papa, but I am convinced
m advance that you will derive no information from either of
them. The strange power that holds sway over them you
cannot break, but there is one thiiij? you can do."
,Got)gle
ZULEIKA GOES TO M. DANTES. SIT.
"What is tlint, Zuleika?"
ite to Luigi Vampal "
^ Write to Vampa? Why should I do that? "
, * Because I tcel assured that he is in possession of the
fu1! details of the terrible secret, whatever it may be, and
will communicate tiiem to you if you ask him to do so."
M. Dantes gazed at his daughter curiously.
" What makes you think I have such influence over this
Roman brigand?" he asked, sharply.
" Ohl papa, do not be angry with me? " cried Zuleika; "but
1 have heard how Vampa relea.sed the Viscount de Morcerf
at your simple solicitation without a single franc of ransom,
though he had previously demanded a very large amount from
the unfortunate man as the price of his liberty. I have heard
this and the natural inference I drew was that, if the bri-
gand chief went so far as to surrender his prey to you, he
would certamly answer your letter and tell you all he knew
about the matter that so closely concerns my happiness and
' I am not angry with you, my child," replied the Deputy,
in a milder tone, "for I know how deeply you have this
affair at heart. I will write to Luigi Vampa as you desire,
this very night, and in two weeks at the furthest bis answer
may be expected, but to-morrow I will talk with Esperance
and then will question the Viscount. Rest assured that this
matter shall be sifted to the bottom. I know the extent of
your love for Giovanni Massetti; I also feel confident that I
am not deceived in him, and that he will be amply able to
prove himself entirely worthy of your hand. I have seen too
much of men, Zuleika, and studied them too deeply, to be
deceived in reading character."
" Ohl thank you, thank you ever so much, papa, both
for your promise, and your kind, encouraging words. I,
too, have full faith in Giovanni but still I cannot rest satis-
fied until his record is entirely and conclusively cleared.
No one must have the power to breathe even a suspicion
against the good nnmt of your daughter's husband!"
"Spoken like a girl of spirit!" said M., Danles, his eyes
sparkling with enthusiasm and admiration. " Now leave
Kne, and I will write to Vampa."
edftyCoOylt
218 EDMOND DANTES.
Zuleika kissed her father and quitted the library with a
much lighter heart than she had entered it.
M. Dantes, by the exercise of his iron will, had managed
to control himself in her presence, but now that she had
gone he gave free course to his emotions. For a full hour
he sat leaning on his writing-table, his frame convulsed with
anguish, and his mind filled with sad forebodings. He did
not for an instant doubt that both Esp^rance and the Vis-
count could clear themselves from any criminal or dishon-
orable charge, if they would consent to open their lips,
but their silence and Zuleika's belief that they were bound
by some fearful oath gave him great uneasiness. Besides, his
son had mentioned Luigi Vampa's name, and the thought that
the young man was involved in some complication with the
Roman bandit sent a chill to his heart. He was convinced
that whatever had occurred had been merely the result of
the folly and headlong disposition of youth, but this was
scarcely a consolation, for he well knew to what length young
men sometimes allowed themselves to be carried, especially
in what they considered a love-affair.
In addition, the more he thought of the half-forgotten
Roman scandal, the more clearly its particulars returned to
him. He remembered that a young and handsome peasant
girl had been mysteriously abducted, and that eventually she
had been brought back to her home by one of the shepherds
known to be in league with Lcigi Vampa and his band. She
asserted that she had been carried off to the bandits' haunt
by her youthful lover, who had passed for a peasant lad, but
was in reality a nobleman. This was all M, Dantes could
distinctly recall, though he was certain he had heard other
details that had slipped his memory. At the period of the
abduction, he now remembered, both Esperance and the Vis-
count were temporarily absent from Rome; then followed
their return and the quarrel that had almost resulted in a
duel, but had suddenly been patched up without apparent
reason. Had Esperance and the Viscount been concerned in
the abduction? That was a question that only they or Luigi
Vampa could answer, and it was evident the young men
would not speak. Vampa then must be made to speak for
them; that was the So\e cowse \et*. to pursue, for the peasant
T,Google
TJVO INTERVIEWS. 219
B'^rl had disappeared immediately after her return, and her
fc*hercaboutH were a mystery.
, Dantes drew writing materials before him and wrote
etter to the brigand chief; it was brief, but to the point.
BWhen it was finished, it bore the signature, " Edmond Dan-
, Count of Morte-Cristo." The Deputy placed it in the
of his table to go by mail the following morning,
llaving first folded and sealed it. " Thomson and French,
was the direction it bore.
CHAPTER XXX.
TWO INTEBVIEWS.
The morning following the events detailed in the last chap-
s Esperance wa-; iti hi.s dressing-room preparing to take
t short stroll through Paris, Ali knoclced at the door and sig-
nified that M. Dantes wished to see him at once in the
library. As such a summons was something unusual, the
young man immediately concluded that Zuleika had been in
consultation with her father and that he would now have to
submit to a close and rigid examination; he had expected
such an examination, but, nevertheless, the summons filled
him with dismay and he grew pale as wax, his limbs tremb-
ling beneath him and his hands working nervously; however,
he braced up as well as he could, and with as firm a step as
il was possible for him to assume walked toward the library.
On the threshold he paused, and his courage so utterly for-
sook him that he was tempted to take refuge in flighl, but
the thought flashed through his mind that this would be
cowardly, and, making a supreme effort to control himself.
he entered his father's presence.
M. Danles, who was seated at his writmg-table examining
niiscript written in Arabic characters, looked up
in and fixed Ins eyes searchingly upon his son's
noting its extreme pallor and remarking with
manifest uneasiness the difficulty Espfrance experienced in
maintaining a firm demeanor. Motioning the young man to
I ft seat, he said:
?dbyGooylt'
330 EDMOND DANTES.
" My son, I have sent you on a matter of the utmost
importance, and I sincerely hope you will see fit to tell me
in all frankness whatever you may know in regard to it."
Esperance partially closed his eyes as if suffering intensely,
bringing his teeth firmly together and compressing his lips.
As he did not speak, M. Dantes continued:
" I have every reason to believe that the revelation I am
about to ask of you will be exceedingly painful for you to
make, but you must consider that your sister's happiness is
deeply concerned and that, tor that reason, no matter what
may be your motives, you have not the right to maintain
silence."
" I know what you mean, father," replied Esperance in an
unsteady voice, " but, notwithstanding the pain it gives me to
do so, I must ask you, nay, entreat you not to question me,
for I cannot answer you!"
M. Dantes cast upon his son a glance that seemed to pierce
him through and through; the young man quailed beneath it
and again partially closed his eyes, while a faint blue shade
was mixed with the waxen pallor of his visage. The Deputy,
though he had made a profound and exhaustive study of men
and their varied motives, though he was a skilled anatomist
of the human heart and a ready reader of the human counte-
nance, acknowledged to himself that this time he was com-
pletely baffled. Was it tear or guilt that Esperance exhibited?
He could not tell; but it was abundantly evident that the
young man was not acting a part, that he keenly felt the
suspicions to which he was exposing himself by his inexplic-
able conduct. At length M, Dantes said, in a mild but de-
' Esperance, my son, you can, at least, enlighten me upon
a few points, and I request, nay, I command you to do so.
Are you bound by oath to preserve silence concerning this
"I am
hound by a most solemn oath!" answered the
oung m.
an with a shudder.
' And i
is Giovanni Massetti likewise so bound?"
" I will not ask you who administered that oath to you
or under what circumstances it was taken, although as your
father I have a right to do so and to compel you t
T,Google
TU'O INTERVIEWS. 221
^tieither will I interrogate you further in regard to the main
question at issue, the complication in which you and the Vis-
count seem to be so hopelessly involved; but I insist that you
inform me whether any guilt or stain of hishonor rests upon
"Father," said Esperanee, rising and lifting bis right hand
toward heaven, " I solemnly swear to you that whatever
wrong may have been done, whatever eriii'e may have been
committed, 1 am entirely guiltless and that there is not the
slightest stain of dishonor upon me I"
" I believe you, my son," said M. DantSs, in a tone of con-
viction, "and this unequivocal assurance from your own lips
removes the weight of a mountain from nic. Now, tell me,
Is the Viscount Massetti as blameless in this affair as you
" The so-called Viscount Massetti is a black-hearted vil-
lain! " cried Esperanee, excitedly. " He is guilty of a foul and
revolting crime, a crime that should condemn him to a life of
penal servitude! "
" But may you not be mistaken, may you not be the vic-
tim of some delusion? " asked M. Dant^s, anxiously.
" I am neither mistaken, father, nor the victim of a de-
lusion," replied Esperanee, positively. " The charges that
I make against that miserable apology for a man I can fully
substantiate should the proper opportunity ever be offered
" Zuleika informed me that, while you were speaking with
her upon this mysterious subject, the name of Luigi Vampa
escaped your lips. Does that notorious brigand possess a
knowledge of this unfortunate matter?"
Esperanee became violently agitated and instantly an-
swered ;
"That is a question my oath forbids me to reply to!"
"So be it," said M. Dantes; "but I have written him and
he wilt reply for you!"
" You have written to Vampa! " exclaimed the younj man,
with a terror-stricken look. "Then all is lost!"
M. Dantes smiled, and, rising, placed his hand on his son's
shoulder.
"Esperanee." said he, calmly, "if neither crime nor dis-
honor attaches to you in Ihis affair, as you have sworn, you
toGoQ^kr
223 EDMOND DANTES.
have nothing whatever to fear, and, besides, Vampa's dis-
closures may rehevc you of some portion of your heavy bur-
den."
"OhI God!" groaned the young man, "if Vampa speaks
how shall I be able to prove my innocencel"
" My son," said M. Dant^s, impressively, " God, whose
name you have invoked, will not desert you in your hour of
need! "
Bowing his head in his hands and trembling like an aspen
leaf, Espfrance quitted the library with a convulsive sob, as
if the last ray of hope had been withdrawn from his life and
all was darkness and despair.
M. Dantfs threw himself in his chair and for an instant
was plunged in absorbing thought; then he arose and putting
on his hat and cloak left the library; a few moments later
he had quitted the mansion by a private door.
Closely muffling his face in the folds of his cloak, that he
might not he recognized, the Deputy from Marseilles passed
hurriedly from street to street until he stood before a massive
building in the Rue Vivienne. He rang the bell, and, when
the concierge appeared said to her:
"Is the Viscount Massetti at home?"
The woman, a large, fat, lumbering creature, cast a sleepy
glance, that was half-curious, half-suspicious, at him and
answered;
" Yes, Monsieur; hut he bade me deny him to everybody."
"He will see me, however,* my good woman," said M.
Dantes. " Take my card to him."
The fat concierge took the card and glanced at it; when
she read " Edraond Dantes, Deputy from Marseilles," she
stared at the famous Republican leader like one possessed;
then, filled with awe, she hastened away and climbed the
stairs as fast as her cumbersome legs would let her. She re-
turned, panting and puffing, followed by the Viscount's valet,
who, with much ceremony and obsequiousness, conducted the
distinguished visitor to his master's apartments.
The salon into which M. Dantes was ushered was large
and sumptuously furtiished; evidences of wealth and luxury
were visible on every side, while everything displayed the
utmost taste and elegance.
"To what am 1 indebted lox Wvt Voftot oi this unexpected
Tiro INTERVIEWS. 323
t, my dear Count?" said Massetti, rising from a hand-
somely carved, red velvet upholstered arm-ehair, in which
he had been indolently reclining, and coming forward to greet
" To a matter that concerns both of us deeply," replied the
Deputy, in a meaning tone.
A shadow crossed the Viscount's handsome visag?, but
it was gone in an instant, and lie said, with the utmost po-
liteness:
" Pray be seated, my dear Count, and before proceeding
to business refresh yourself with a glass of rare old Bur-
gundy. Here, Stephano, wine and glasses."
M. Dantes sat down in an arm-chair precisely resembling
that from which the Viscount had arisen; Massetti resumed
his seat and the valet brought the old Burgundy and glasses,
placing the decanter and drinking glasses on a small table of
glistening ebony between his master and the Deputy. After
ihey had duly drunk each other's health, M. Dantes said:
" I regret, my dear Viscount, that I am compelled to dis-
turb you, but my huisness was too urgent for delay."
'" You don't disturb me in the least. Pray proceed."
" You remember your conversation with my daughter just
before you and she parted, do you not?"
" I remember it," replied the Viscount, coloring slightly
and evidently growing ill at case,
' In that case, neither preface nor explanation is necessary.
I called to ask you a few plain questions."
The Italian was now a prey to singular excitement; he grew
pale and flushed by turns, finally rising and pacing the salon
in great agitation.
"Count," said he, abruptly, when he could command his
voice, "you are a man of the world and a cosmopolitan, and,
of course, you know that one often commits folly, especially
when the ardent and uncontrollable blood of youth is rush-
ing through his veins. With this explanation, imperfect
though it be, I must ask you to rest satisfied, for it is utterly
nut of my power to give you any other, or to enter into the
details of the unfortunate affair which has brought you here.
I assure you, however, that I am altogether blameless in the
matter; investigation will abundantly establish the tfitfev ti^
that I say."
224 EDMOND DANTES.
" I will make that investigation."
" I regret that I can neither empower you to do ;so nor
aid you in it! "
"What am I to understand by that?"
" Simply what I say."
" You are, doubtless, aware tliat my son makes grave accu-
sations against you, that he accuses you, in fact, of a das-
tardly crime."
" Esperance is mistaken, my dear Count; I swear to you
that he is mistaken and that I am as iunocent as he is!"
"But Luigi Vampa may have a different tale to tell!"
" Luigi Vampa! " cried the Viscount, coming instantly to a
dead halt, and a sudden pallor overspreading his entire visage.
"Yes, Luigi Vampa; I have written to him and in two
weeks will have his answer!"
" For Esperance's sake, for my sake, for your daughter's
sake, destroy that answer as soon as received and without
reading itl" exclaimed the young Italian, wildly, his pallor
increasing to such a degree that his face resembled that of a
" Should I be mad enough to do so," said M. Datites, calmly,
" with it all hope of your marriage with Zuleika would
" Oh! do not say that, do not say that! " groaned Massetti.
' What would life he worth to me without Ziileika's love! "
"Then deserve that love by clearing yourself, by proving
th:it your record will bear the light of day!"
" 1 have sworn to you that I am innocent! Is not that
enough?"
" No," replied M. Dantes, coldly. " I must have proof
to support your oath."
"Then you believe me guilty in spite of all! This is the
worst blow yet I"
" It is in your power to completely justify yourself; at
least, so you give me to tmdcrstaiid, and yet your refusal
will forever separate you from the woman you love!"
"You fill me with despair!" said Massetti, in a smothered
voice, sinking upon a sofa. "I fain would reveal everything
to you, but an awful oath of silence stands between me and
the revelation."
T,Google
VAMPA'S ANSWER.
S35
"Then ! must wait for Vampa's answer, and sliape my
course by that!" said M. Dantes, firmly.
"That answer will destroy both Esperance and myself!"
replied the Viscount, in a hoarse whisper.
" We shall see," returned the Deputy, rising and resuming
his cloak; as he stood at the door of the salon with his hat
in his hand, he added; " I thought you all a man should be,
Viscount, and that you would make Zuleika happy, but my
convictions have been sadly shaken. I came here thinking
that love for woman was al! powerful in the heart of man,
that it would induce you to speak, even in the face of an oalh,
perhaps violently and iniciuitously administered; I was wrong;
farewell! "
M. Dantes turned slowly and took his departure, leaving
Giovanni Massetti on the sofa plunged in grief and dismay.
k
CHAPTER XXXI.
M. Dantes' let
uneasy and s
day from hor
father and sisi
for the arrival of Luigi Vampa's answer to
tcr approached, Esperance grew more and more
^rious; he spent the greater portion of every
ic, apparently for the purpose of avoiding his
er; when he returned he was moody, depressed
and silent, and far into the night he could be heard pacing
his chamber as if unable to sleep from excitement and anx-
Zulcika endeavored to comfort him, but all her efTorts were
fruitless. She, poor girl, was herself overwhelmed \vitli Uer
own distress, though she strove to bear up against it.
Massetti had neither written to nor attempted to see her
since their separation, a circumstance she could not reconcile
with his protestatinns of ardent love for her, and this served
vastly to augment her sadness and ani^uish, though she still
believed in her soul that the Viscount was entirely innocent
of the crime laid to his charge.
Iff
EDMOND DANtMs.
suUatio
ted hi)
es, who had plun^
iuccsas of the Re
vith the Republii
ed into politics deeper than eve
volution, was frequently in con
an leaders, and many of thei
and were closeted with him fo
hours at a time; but, though seemingly engrossed in State a
fairs, the Deputy did not lose sight of his son and daughter
or of the mysterious complication that Vampa wi
peeled to make clear. Ali had strict orders to watch boti
Zuleika and Esperance, and to report to his master what
ever they did when at home in his absence, but the fatthfs
Nubian found nothing amiss, save that the young peopi
seemed burdened with a sorrow he could not fathom.
At length, when the Iwo weeks that it would take to hea,
from Rome had expired, M. Lamartine called one mDrning a
the mansion in the Rue du Heldcr, and having finished hi
business with M. Dantes was invited by his host to remai
to lunch. The repast was served in the salle-a-mangei
Esperance and Zuleika partaking of it with their father s
his illustrious guest. When the edibles had been remoi
and the party were taking wine at the djning-table, M. Dantij
suddenly rememhering that he had an engagement, begg
M. Lamartine to excuse him and remain with his son an
daughter until his return, that would he in half an hour a
the utmost This arrangement effected, the Deputy arose
from his chair, threw his cloak over his arm and was about
to take his departure, when Ali appeared on the threshold
of the open doorway, bearing in his hand a letter. In
divining that this was Vampa's answer, upon which hunj
Massetti's fate and his own, Esperance leaped to his iet
and fixed his wild and staring eyes on the ominous t
I if he would read its contents through its folds. ZttleiM
retained her seat, but lifted her hands in terror and stared ]
the letter with pallid cheeks and blanched lips. Even JLam
tine turned in his chair and. holding his glass in his fasdi
gazed wonderingly at the Nubian and the epistle. M. Dant^
alone seemed unmoved, and his pale countenance gave |
sign of the emotion struggling in his breast; he stood Itlfl
an of iron, and extending his hand took the letter witbont '
emor. It was enclosed in a curiously-fashioned envelope,
evidently made by the writer himself, and bore ihe Roman
VAMPA'S ANSWER. 327
^^ostmark; the direction, written in bold, scrawling, but per-
fectly legible characters, read: " M. Edmond Dantes, Deputy
from Marseilles, No. 27 Rue du Helder, Paris, France. Per-
sonal and private." This direction was in French.
Ali having retired, the Deputy calmly broke the seal and
hurriedly ran his eyes over the missive. Esperance and Zu-
Icika eagerly and breathlessly watched his countenance while
he read, but it was as impassable as a countenance chiseled
from marble; when he had finished he turned to Esperance
and without a word handed him the letter. For a moment
the young man trembled so he could not read; cold perspira-
tion stood in licavy beads upon his forehead, and vivid flashes
of red passed befnre his eyes like slieels of lurid lightning.
What thoughts, what suspicions, what dread shot through his
tortured mind in that brief moment, making it seem an
eternity of sufferingl At last, steadying and controlling bim-
selE by a supreme effort, he read the missive from which
he had feared such terrible consei]uencs. It was in Italian,
md ran as follows:
K
His ExcELLENCv, THE COUNT OF MoniE'Cristo: You ask me
your questions, and I comply. Fasiiuale Solara's
'daughter, Annunziata^ was abducted from her father's peasant-
home by Giovanni Massetti, known as the Viscount Massetti
who is, no doubt, the person to whom you allude as now in
Paris, for he has disappeared from Rome. You are right in
assuming that he had aid. He was assisted by a young
r'renehman, and that young Frenchman was your son, Esper-
ance, Annunziata suffered the usual fate of abducted peasant
girls, and was deserted by her dastardly abductor in a fast-
ness controlled by my band. When the abduction took place,
Annunziata's brother strove lo rescue her, but was attacked
and killed by Massetti. Through my means the girl was re-
turned to her home, but she was miserable there and fled;
she is now in an asylum for unfortunate women founded at
Civila Vecehia by the Order of Sisters of Refuge, and super-
intended by a French lady, a Madame Helena de Rancogne,
who, as is said, was formerly called the Countess of Monte-
Cristo.* It is due to your son lo say that he was entirely mis-
led in regard to the abduction of Annunziata Solara, and is
^
228 EDMOND DANTES.
altogether innocent of crime or intention to commit it. The
whole burden of guilt rests upon the shoulders of the Vis-
count Massetti, who, I believe, compelled your son at the
pistol's mouth to take a fearful oath of silence.
LuiGi Vampa.
When Esperance had read this letter that so effectually
cleared him, and was such a fearful arraignment of the
Viscount Massetti, he restored it to his father and sank into
his chair utterly overcome by the terrible excitement and
mental strain through which he had passed. M. Dant^s
forced him to swallow a glass of wine that partially restored
him; then, turning to M. Lamartine, who had been an as-
tonished spectator of this strange and to him incomprehensi-
ble family scene, he said:
" My dear friend, you are amazed, and you have a right
lo be. This letter that has caused my son and daughter
so much emotion comes from a Roman brigand chief, no
othei than Luigi Vampa, whose name is notorious throughout
Europe, You will understand its importance when I inform
you that it conclusively clears my son of an exceedingly
grave charge."
M. Lamartine arose and took Esperance by the hand.
" I heartily congratulate you," said he.
"And Giovanni Massetti?" asked Zuleika, in a trernulous
"Giovanni Massetti is unworthy of my daughter's hand!"
replied M. Dantes.
" Let me see that letter," said Zuleika, her cheek growing
piiler and her heart beating tumultuously.
Her father gave it to her. She took it and read each line
with an intensity that was painful to behold. When she had
reached the end, her eyes suddenly lighted up and the color
came rushing back to her pallid cheeks.
" Esperance," she said, facing her brother with an air
of resolution beneath which he quailed " Luigi Vampa has
not told all! Somotliing he has kept back, and that something
you know. Whr\( is it? Speak!"
" Luigi Vamya bus VoUl the truth! " replied the young man,
(JoggedJy.
T,Google
VAMPAS ANSWER. 239
" Yes, but not the whole truth. What has he kept back? "
Esperance shook his head.
"He has told the truth!" he repeated.
' Did the Viscount Massetti administer the oath of silence
"He did."
"Then who administered that oath to Giovanni?"
The young man did not answer.
"There is some mystery about this complicated affair yet
unexplained, and until it is explained I cannot believe Gio-
vanni Massetti guilty! "
" Come, come, my daughter," said M, Dantes, soothingly,
"your heart speaks and not your mind."
" My heart and mind both speak, papa," replied Zuleika,
"and both say that Giovanni Massetti is innocent."
" Let him prove it then."
' I feel certain that he can and will."
" Weil, well, child, go to Madame Dantes and take counsel
of her. Only a woman can heal a young girl's love wounds."
Zuleika quitted the sal! e- a -manger, her countenance yet
bearing the stamp of an inflexible belii^f and a fixed determi-
nation.
" Esperance," said M. Dantes, " your honor is unstained
and you are restored to my heart. I thank God for the bless-
ings of this day! "
" You are a true father, Edmond, as well as a true patriot,"
said M. Lamartine, "and I feel assured that your son will
be worthy of you and of our beloved France.''
That very day Giovanni Massetti received an unsigned
little note, written in a tiny feminine hand. It was phrased
"I believe you innocent in spite of all! Prove to m
to the world that you are so."
Enclosed in this note was Luigi Vampa's letter i
Dantis.
T,Google
330 EDMOND DANTES.
The next morning it became known that the Viscount Mas-
setti had disappeared from Paris. Gossip assigned a thou-
sand scandalous motives for his sudden flight, but gossip
could form no idea as to whither he had fled. Zuleika,* how-
ever, knew that he had returned to Italy to clear his name
and prove himself worthy of her love!