The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre Dumas

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      “What is allowed, then?”

      “Better fare, if you pay for it, books, and leave to walk about.”

      “I do not want books, I am satisfied with my food, and I do not care to walk about; but I wish to see the governor.”

      “If you worry me by repeating the same thing I will not bring you any more to eat.”

      “Well, then,” said Edmond, “if you do not, I shall die of famine, that is all.”

      The gaoler saw by his tone he would be happy to die; and, as every prisoner is worth sixpence a day to his gaoler, he replied in a more subdued tone:

      “What you ask is impossible; but if you are very well behaved you will be allowed to walk about, and some day you will meet the governor; and if he chooses to reply, that is his affair.”

      “But,” asked Dantès, “how long shall I have to wait?”

      “Ah! a month—six months—a year.”

      “It is too long a time. I wish to see him at once.”

      “Ah!” said the gaoler, “do not always brood over what is impossible, or you will be mad in a fortnight.”

      “You think so?”

      “Yes, we have an instance here; it was by always offering a million of francs to the governor for his liberty that an abbé became mad, who was in this chamber before you.”

      “How long has he left it?”

      “Two years.”

      “Was he liberated then?”

      “No; he was put in a dungeon.”

      “Listen!” said Dantès. “I am not an abbé, I am not mad; perhaps I shall be; but at present, unfortunately, I am not. I will make you another offer.”

      “What is that?”

      “I do not offer you a million, because I have it not; but I will give you a hundred crowns if the first time you go to Marseilles you will seek out a young girl, named Mercédès, at the Catalans, and give her two lines from me.”

      “If I took them, and were detected, I should lose my place, which is worth two thousand francs a year; so that I should be a great fool to run such a risk for three hundred.”

      “Well,” said Dantès, “mark this, if you refuse, at least, to tell Mercédès I am here, I will some day hide myself behind the door, and when you enter, I will dash out your brains with this stool.”

      “Threats!” cried the gaoler, retreating, and putting himself on the defensive; “you are certainly going mad. The abbé began like you; and in three days you will want a strait-waistcoat; but, fortunately, there are dungeons here.”

      Dantès whirled the stool round his head.

      “Oh!” said the gaoler, “you shall see the governor at once.”

      “That is right,” returned Dantès, dropping the stool, and sitting on it as if he were in reality mad.

      The gaoler went out, and returned in an instant with a corporal and four soldiers.

      “By the governor’s orders,” said he, “conduct the prisoner to the storey beneath.”

      “To the dungeon, then,” said the corporal.

      “Yes, we must put the madman with the madmen.”

      The soldiers seized Dantès, who followed passively.

      He descended fifteen steps, and the door of a dungeon was opened, and he was thrust in.

      The door closed, and Dantès advanced with outstretched hands until he touched the wall; he then sat down in the corner until his eyes became accustomed to the darkness.

      The gaoler was right; Dantès wanted but little of being utterly mad.

       9 The Evening of the Betrothal

      VILLEFORT HAD, as we have said, hastened back to the Place du Grand Cours, and on entering the house found all the guests in the salon at coffee. Renée was, with all the rest of the company, anxiously awaiting him, and his entrance was followed by a general exclamation.

      “Well, Decapitator, Guardian of the State, Brutus, what is the matter?” said one.

      “Are we threatened with a fresh Reign of Terror?” asked another.

      “Has the Corsican ogre broke loose?” cried a third.

      “Madame la Marquise,” said Villefort, approaching his future mother-in-law, “I request your pardon for thus leaving you. M. le Marquis, honour me by a few moments’ private conversation!”

      “Ah! this affair is really serious, then?” asked the marquis, remarking the cloud on Villefort’s brow.

      “So serious, that I must take leave of you for a few days; so,” added he, turning to Renée, “judge for yourself if it be not important?”

      “You are going to leave us?” cried Renée, unable to hide her emotion.

      “Alas!” returned Villefort, “I must!”

      “Where, then, are you going?” asked the marquise.

      “That, madame, is the secret of justice, but if you have any commissions for Paris, a friend of mine is going there tonight.”

      The guests looked at each other.

      “You wish to speak to me alone?” said the marquis.

      “Yes, let us go into your cabinet.”

      The marquis took his arm, and left the salon.

      “Well!” asked he, as soon as they were in his closet, “tell me, what is it?”

      “An affair of the greatest importance, that demands my immediate presence in Paris. Now, excuse the indiscretion, marquis, but have you any funded property?”

      “All my fortune is in the funds; seven or eight hundred thousand francs.”

      “Then sell out,—sell out, marquis, as soon as you can.”

      “Eh! how can I sell out here?”

      “You have a broker, have you not?”

      “Yes.”

      “Then give me a letter to him, and tell him to sell out without an instant’s delay, perhaps even now I shall arrive too late.”

      “What СКАЧАТЬ