Read The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) Online

Authors: Alexandre Dumas

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The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (161 page)

BOOK: The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin)
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‘ “However,” the chairman said, “permit me to remark that you were very young at that time.”

‘ “I was four years old but, since the events were of supreme significance to me, not a single detail has left my mind and not one circumstance has escaped my memory.”

‘ “What significance can these events have had for you? Who are you, for this great catastrophe to have produced such a profound impression on you?”

‘ “It was a matter of the life or death of my father,” the young woman replied. “My name is Haydée, daughter of Ali Tebelin, Pasha of Janina, and Vasiliki, his well-beloved wife.”

‘The blush, at once modest and proud, that spread across the young woman’s cheeks, the flame in her eyes and the solemnity of her revelation produced an indescribable effect on the assembly. As for the count, he could not have been more smitten if a thunderbolt had fallen, opening a pit at his feet.

‘ “Madame,” the chairman continued, after bowing respectfully, “allow me to ask one simple question, without casting doubt on your words, which will be the last: have you any proof of what you say?”

‘ “I do, Monsieur,” Haydée said, taking from under her cloak a sachet of perfumed satin. “Here is the certificate of my birth, drawn up by my father and signed by his principal officials; and here, with the certificate of my birth, is that of my baptism, my father having agreed that I might be brought up in the religion of my mother: this certificate bears the seal of the great primate of Macedonia and Epirus. Finally – and this is doubtless the most important – here is the bill for the sale of my person and that of my mother to the Armenian merchant, El Kobbir, by this Frankish officer who, in his infamous dealings with La Porte, had reserved as his share of the booty the wife and daughter of his benefactor, and sold them for the sum of a thousand purses, that is to say for approximately four hundred thousand francs.”

‘A greenish pallor spread across the Comte de Morcerf’s cheeks and his eyes became shot with blood as these terrible charges were spelled out, to be greeted by the assembly in melancholy silence.

‘Haydée, still calm, but far more threatening in her calm than another might have been in anger, passed the bill of sale across to the chairman. It was written in Arabic; but since it had been anticipated that some of the documents produced might be in Arabic, Romaic or Turkish, the parliamentary interpreter had been asked to stand by, and he was called. One of the peers, who knew Arabic, having learned the language during the glorious Egyptian campaign,
1
followed the words on the parchment as the translator read them aloud:

I, El Kobbir, slave dealer and supplier of His Royal Highness’s harem, acknowledge having received from the Frankish lord, Count of Monte Cristo, for delivery to the most glorious emperor, an emerald valued at 2,000 purses, in payment for a young Christian slave aged eleven years, by name Haydée, legitimate daughter of the late lord Ali Tebelin, Pasha of Janina, and Vasiliki, his favourite, the same having been sold to me seven years ago, with her mother, who died on arrival at Constantinople, by a Frankish colonel in the service of the vizier Ali Tebelin, named Fernand Mondego.

The above-mentioned sale was made on behalf of His Royal Highness, by whom I was mandated, for the amount of one thousand purses.

In Constantinople, with authorization from His Royal Highness, year 1274 of the hegira.

Signed:
EL KOBBIR

The present deed is fully and properly authenticated by the imperial seal, which the vendor must ensure is attached.

‘Near the merchant’s signature one could indeed see the seal of the august emperor.

‘A dreadful silence followed the reading of the letter and the sight of the seal. The count was powerless to do anything but stare. His eyes, fastened as though involuntarily on Haydée, were shot with blood and flames.

‘ “Madame,” the chairman said, “can we not speak to the Count of Monte Cristo, who is in Paris together with you, I believe?”

‘ “Monsieur,” Haydée replied, “the Count of Monte Cristo, my second father, has been in Normandy for the past three days.”

‘ “In that case, Madame,” the chairman said, “who advised you to take this step – though the court thanks you for it, and it was quite natural in view of your birth and your misfortunes?”

‘ “This was dictated to me by my respect and my sorrow, Monsieur,” Haydée replied. “God forgive me: though I am a Christian, I have always thought to avenge my illustrious father. After I set foot in France and learned that the traitor lived in Paris, my eyes and my ears remained constantly open. I lived in seclusion in the house of my noble protector, but I live thus because I love obscurity and silence, which allow me to inhabit my own thoughts and meditations. The Count of Monte Cristo surrounds me with his paternal care and I am aware of all that goes on in the world, but I only hear distant echoes of it. I read all the newspapers, just as I am sent all the albums and all the new music. Because I follow the lives of others, without taking part in them, I learned of what happened this morning in the House and what was to take place here this evening; and I wrote to you.”

‘ “So the Count of Monte Cristo is not involved in what you have done?” the chairman asked.

‘ “He is quite unaware of it, Monsieur, and I am afraid of only one thing, which is that he will disapprove when he finds out about
it. However,” the young woman went on, looking with burning eyes towards heaven, “it is a fine day for me, now that I have at last the opportunity to avenge my father.”

‘Throughout all this, the count had not spoken a single word. His colleagues were looking at him and, no doubt, pitying this greatness that had been blown away by the scented breath of a woman. The dreadful marks of his misfortune were little by little appearing on his face.

‘ “Monsieur de Morcerf,” said the chairman, “do you recognize this lady as the daughter of Ali Tebelin, pasha of Janina?”

‘ “No,” Morcerf said, attempting to rise. “This is a tissue of lies, woven by my enemies.”

‘Haydée, who had been looking intently towards the door as if expecting someone, turned sharply and, seeing the count on his feet, gave an awful cry. “You do not recognize me,” she said. “Well, fortunately I recognize you! You are Fernand Mondego, the Frankish officer who was instructor to the troops of my noble father. You it was who betrayed the castles of Janina! You it was who, having been sent by your benefactor to deal directly on the matter of his life or death with the emperor, brought back a false
firman
giving him a complete pardon! You it was who with this
firman
obtained the pasha’s ring which would command the obedience of Selim, keeper of the fire! You it was who stabbed Selim! You it was who sold us, my mother and me, to the merchant El Kobbir! Assassin! Assassin! Assassin! Your master’s blood is still on your brow! Let it be seen by all!”

‘These words were spoken with such passionate conviction that all eyes turned towards the count, and he even put his hand to his forehead as if he had felt Ali’s blood on it, still warm.

‘ “So do you positively identify Monsieur de Morcerf as this same officer Fernand Mondego?”

‘ “Indeed I do recognize him!” Haydée exclaimed. “Oh, my mother! You told me: ‘You were free, you had a father whom you loved, you were destined to be almost a queen! Look well on this man: he it is who has made you a slave, who raised your father’s head on the end of a pike, who sold us, who betrayed us! Look well on his right hand, the one that bears a broad scar; should you forget his face, you would recognize him by that hand into which, one by one, fell the coins of the merchant El Kobbir!’ Indeed, I do recognize him! Oh, let him say now that he does not recognize me!”

‘Each word fell like the blow of a cutlass on Morcerf and drained a part of his energy. At the last words, he involuntarily hastened to conceal his hand in his coat: it was indeed disfigured by a wound; then he fell back into his seat, plunged into the desolation of utter despair.

‘This scene had caused a commotion among the minds of all those present which swirled like the leaves torn from a tree by the powerful north wind.

‘ “Monsieur de Morcerf,” said the chairman, “do not let your courage fail you; reply. The justice of the court is supreme and equal for all, like that of God. It will not let you be crushed by your enemies without providing you with the means to combat them. Would you like further enquiries to be made? Do you wish me to order two members of the commission to visit Janina? Speak!”

‘Morcerf said nothing.

‘At this, all the members of the commission looked at one another with a sort of horror. They knew the count’s powerful and aggressive character. It would take the most terrible blow to overwhelm this man’s defences; it must be that this silence, which was like a slumber, would be followed by an awakening that would be like thunder.

‘ “Well, then?” asked the chairman. “What have you decided?”

‘ “Nothing!” the count said in a toneless voice, rising to his feet.

‘ “Then has the daughter of Ali Tebelin really told us the truth?” said the chairman. “Is she really the awful witness to whom the guilty man never dares to answer:
no
? Did you really do all these things that she accuses you of doing?”

‘The count looked around him with an expression that would have melted the heart of a tiger but which could not disarm a judge. Then he raised his eyes towards the vaulted ceiling as if fearing that it might open to reveal that second tribunal which is called heaven and that other judge who is called God.

‘At last, with a sudden movement, he tore open the tightly buttoned coat that seemed to stifle him and left the room like a disconsolate madman. For a short while his footsteps echoed lugubriously down the passage, and soon the rumbling of the carriage as it galloped away with him shook the portico of the Florentine building.

‘ “Gentlemen,” said the chairman, when the sounds had died
away, “does Monsieur de Morcerf stand convicted of felony, treason and conduct unworthy of a member of this House?”

‘ “Yes!” replied all the members of the commission of inquiry with one voice.

‘Haydée had stayed until the very end of the session. She heard the count’s guilt pronounced without a single muscle on her face expressing either pity or joy. Then, once more covering herself with her veil, majestically she took her leave of the counsellors and walked out with that bearing which Virgil described as the walk of a goddess.’
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LXXXVII
PROVOCATION

‘So I took advantage of the silence and darkness in the room,’ Beauchamp went on, ‘to leave without being seen. The usher who had brought me in was waiting for me at the door. He conducted me through the corridors to a little door opening on to the Rue de Vaugirard. I left with my heart at once shattered and enchanted – Albert! Forgive me for saying it: shattered with regard to you, but enchanted by the nobility of that young woman seeking to avenge her father. Yes, Albert: wherever this revelation came from – and I grant you that it may have been from an enemy – I swear that that enemy was an agent of Providence.’

Albert was holding his head in both hands. He raised a face that was red with shame and bathed in tears, and grasped Beauchamp’s arm.

‘Friend,’ he said, ‘my life is over. All that remains for me is not to say, as you do, that Providence dealt me this blow, but to seek out the man who has been pursuing me with his hatred. Then, when I know his name, I shall kill him, or else he will kill me. I am counting on your friendship to assist me, Beauchamp, provided that contempt has not driven friendship from your heart.’

‘Contempt, my dear friend? How can this misfortune affect you? No, thank God! We no longer live in a time when children were blindly and unjustly made responsible for the deeds of their fathers. Recall your whole life, Albert. It has been brief, but was the dawning
of a summer’s day ever purer than your beginning? No, Albert, take my advice, you are young, you are rich: leave France. Everything is soon forgotten in this Babylon with its tumultuous life and changing fashions. Come back in three or four years’ time, when you have married some Russian princess, and no one will recall what happened yesterday, still less what happened sixteen years ago.’

‘Thank you, my dear Beauchamp, thank you for the excellent intentions that inspire your words, but it cannot be. I have told you my wish; and now, if necessary, I shall change the word “wish” to “will”. You must understand that, being involved as I am in the matter, I cannot see it in the same light as you do. What appears to you to have some celestial origin, seems to me to come from an impurer source. I have to admit that Providence appears to me to have nothing to do with all this; and fortunately so because, instead of an invisible and intangible messenger bringing celestial rewards and punishments, I shall find a tangible and visible being on whom I may be avenged – oh, yes, I swear to you that I shall – for all that I have suffered over the past month. Now, Beauchamp, I repeat: I want to return to the solid reality of human life and, if you are still the friend you say you are, help me to find the hand that struck this blow.’

‘Very well, then,’ said Beauchamp. ‘If you are determined to bring me back to earth, back I must come. If you are set upon hunting down an enemy, I shall hunt with you. And I shall find him, for my honour is almost as much implicated as yours.’

‘Then let’s start our enquiries now, without delay. Every moment that we do delay is an eternity for me. The author of this denunciation has not yet been punished. He may hope that he will not be; but on my honour, if he does hope so, he is mistaken!’

BOOK: The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin)
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