The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre Dumas

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СКАЧАТЬ seeking to avoid the hilarious mirth that rose in such deafening sounds, he continued, in utter silence, to pace the farther end of the salon.

      Caderousse approached him just as Danglars, whom Fernand seemed most anxious to avoid, had joined him in a corner of the room.

      “Upon my word,” said Caderousse, from whose mind the friendly treatment of Dantès, united with the effect of the excellent wine he had partaken of, had effaced every feeling of envy or jealousy at Dantès’ good fortune,—“upon my word Dantès is a downright good fellow, and when I see him sitting there beside his pretty wife that is so soon to be, I cannot help thinking it would have been a great pity to have served him that trick you were planning yesterday.”

      “Oh, there was no harm meant!” answered Danglars; “at first I certainly did feel somewhat uneasy as regarded what Fernand might be tempted to do, but when I saw how completely he had mastered his feelings, even so far as to become one of his rival’s bride’s-men, I knew there was no further cause for apprehension.”

      Caderousse looked full at Fernand—he was ghastly pale.

      “Certainly,” continued Danglars, “the sacrifice was no trifling one when the beauty of the bride is considered. Upon my soul, that future captain of mine is a lucky dog! Gad! I only wish he would let me take his place!”

      “Shall we not set forth?” asked the sweet, silvery voice of Mercédès; “two o’clock has just struck, and you know we are expected at the Hôtel-de-Ville in a quarter of an hour.”

      “To be sure!—to be sure!” cried Dantès, eagerly quitting the table; “let us go directly!”

      His words were re-echoed by the whole party, who rose with a simultaneous cheer, and commenced forming themselves into procession.

      At this moment Danglars, who had been incessantly observing every change in Fernand’s look and manner, perceived him stagger and fall back, with an almost convulsive spasm, against a seat placed near one of the open windows. At the same instant the ear caught a sort of indistinct sound on the stairs, followed by the measured tread of soldiery, with the clanking of swords and military accoutrements! then came a hum and buzz of many voices, so as to deaden even the noisy mirth of the bridal party, among whom a vague feeling of curiosity and apprehension quelled every disposition to talk, and almost instantaneously the most deathlike stillness prevailed.

      Nearer and nearer came those sounds of terror. Three distinct knocks, as though from the hilt of a sword, against the door, increased the fears of the before gay party. Each looked inquiringly in the countenance of his neighbour, while all wished themselves quietly and safely at home.

      “I demand admittance,” said a loud voice outside the room, “in the name of the law!”

      As no attempt was made to prevent it, the door was opened, and a magistrate, wearing his official scarf, presented himself, followed by four soldiers and a corporal. Uneasiness now yielded to the most extreme dread on the part of those present.

      “May I venture to inquire the reason of this unexpected visit?” said M. Morrel, addressing the magistrate, whom he evidently knew; “there is doubtless some mistake easily explained.”

      “If it be so,” replied the magistrate, “rely upon every reparation being made; meanwhile, I am the bearer of an order of arrest, and although I most reluctantly perform the task assigned to me, it must, nevertheless, be fulfilled. Who among the persons here assembled answers to the name of Edmond Dantès?”

      Every eye was turned towards the individual so described, who, spite of the agitation he could not but feel, advanced with dignity, and said, in a firm voice, “I am he! what is your pleasure with me?”

      “Edmond Dantès,” replied the magistrate, “I arrest you in the name of the law!”

      “Me!” repeated Edmond, slightly changing colour, “and wherefore, I pray?”

      “I cannot inform you, but you will be duly acquainted with the reasons that have rendered such a step necessary at your first examination.”

      M. Morrel felt that further resistance or remonstrance was useless. He saw before him an officer delegated to enforce the law, and perfectly well knew that it would be as unavailing to seek pity from a magistrate decked with his official scarf as to address a petition to some cold, marble effigy. Old Dantès, however, saw not all this. His paternal heart could not contemplate the idea of such an outrage as consigned his beloved child to prison amid the joys of his wedding feast. Rushing forwards, therefore, he threw himself at the magistrate’s feet, and prayed and supplicated in terms so moving, that even the officer was touched; and, although firm to his duty, he kindly said, “My worthy friend, let me beg of you to calm your apprehensions. Your son has probably neglected some prescribed form or attention in registering his cargo, and it is more than probable he will be set at liberty directly he has given the information required, whether touching the health of his crew, or the value of his freight.”

      “What is the meaning of all this?” inquired Caderousse frowningly, of Danglars, who had assumed an air of utter surprise.

      “How can I tell you?” replied he; “I am, like yourself, utterly bewildered at all that is going on, not a word of which do I understand.”

      Caderousse then looked around for Fernand, but he had disappeared.

      The scene of the previous night now came back to his mind with startling accuracy. The painful catastrophe he had just witnessed appeared effectually to have rent away the veil which the intoxication of the evening before had raised between himself and his memory.

      “So! so!” said he, in a hoarse and choking voice, to Danglars, “this, then, I suppose, is a part of the trick you were concerting yesterday? All I can say is, that if it be so, ‘tis an ill turn, and well deserves to bring double evil on those who have projected it.”

      “Nonsense!” returned Danglars, “I tell you again I have nothing whatever to do with it; besides, you know very well that I tore the paper to pieces.”

      “No, you did not!” answered Caderousse, “you merely threw it by—I saw it lying in a corner.”

      “Hold your tongue, you fool!—what should you know about it?—why, you were drunk!”

      “Where is Fernand?” inquired Caderousse.

      “How do I know?” replied Danglars; “gone, as every prudent man ought to do, to look after his own affairs, most likely. Never mind where he is, let you and I go and see what is to be done for our poor friends in this their affliction.”

      During this conversation, Dantès, after having exchanged a cheerful shake of the hand with all his sympathising friends, had surrendered himself to the officer sent to arrest him, merely saying, “Make yourselves quite easy, my good fellows, there is some little mistake to clear up, that’s all, depend upon it! and very likely I may not have to go so far as the prison to effect that.”

      “Oh, to be sure!” responded Danglars, who had now approached the group, “nothing more than a mistake, I feel quite certain.”

      Dantès descended the staircase, preceded by the magistrate, and followed by the soldiers. A carriage awaited him at the door; he got in, followed by two soldiers and the magistrate, and the vehicle drove off towards Marseilles.

      “Adieu! adieu! dearest Edmond!” cried Mercédès, СКАЧАТЬ