The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas (best book club books .TXT) 📕

Did the young man recognize that face by the light of the lantern in his tilbury, or was he merely struck with the horrible appearance of his interrogator? We cannot say; but only relate the fact that he shuddered and stepped back suddenly.

“What do you want of me?” he asked.

“Pardon me, my friend, if I disturb you,” said the man with the red handkerchief, “but I want to speak to you.”

“You have no right to beg at night,” said the groom, endeavoring to rid his master of the troublesome intruder.

“I am not begging, my fine fellow,” said the unknown to the servant, with so ironical an expression of the eye, and so frightful a smile, that he withdrew; “I only wish to say two or three words to your master, who gave me a commission to execute about a fortnight ago.”

“Come,” said Andrea, with sufficient nerve for his servant not to perceive his agitation, “what do you want? Speak quickly, friend.”

The man said, in a low voice: “I wish⁠—I wish you to spare me the walk back to Paris. I am very tired, and as I have not eaten so good a dinner as you, I can scarcely stand.”

The young man shuddered at this strange familiarity.

“Tell me,” he said⁠—“tell me what you want?”

“Well, then, I want you to take me up in your fine carriage, and carry me back.” Andrea turned pale, but said nothing.

“Yes,” said the man, thrusting his hands into his pockets, and looking impudently at the youth; “I have taken the whim into my head; do you understand, Master Benedetto?”

At this name, no doubt, the young man reflected a little, for he went towards his groom, saying:

“This man is right; I did indeed charge him with a commission, the result of which he must tell me; walk to the barrier, there take a cab, that you may not be too late.”

The surprised groom retired.

“Let me at least reach a shady spot,” said Andrea.

“Oh, as for that, I’ll take you to a splendid place,” said the man with the handkerchief; and taking the horse’s bit he led the tilbury where it was certainly impossible for anyone to witness the honor that Andrea conferred upon him.

“Don’t think I want the glory of riding in your fine carriage,” said he; “oh, no, it’s only because I am tired, and also because I have a little business to talk over with you.”

“Come, step in,” said the young man. It was a pity this scene had not occurred in daylight, for it was curious to see this rascal throwing himself heavily down on the cushion beside the young and elegant driver of the tilbury. Andrea drove past the last house in the village without saying a word to his companion, who smiled complacently, as though well-pleased to find himself travelling in so comfortable a vehicle. Once out of Auteuil, Andrea looked around, in order to assure himself that he could neither be seen nor heard, and then, stopping the horse and crossing his arms before the man, he asked:

“Now, tell me why you come to disturb my tranquillity?”

“Let me ask you why you deceived me?”

“How have I deceived you?”

“ ‘How,’ do you ask? When we parted at the Pont du Var, you told me you were going to travel through Piedmont and Tuscany; but instead of that, you come to Paris.”

“How does that annoy you?”

“It does not; on the contrary, I think it will answer my purpose.”

“So,” said Andrea, “you are speculating upon me?”

“What fine words he uses!”

“I warn you, Master Caderousse, that you are mistaken.”

“Well, well, don’t be angry, my boy; you know well enough what it is to be unfortunate; and misfortunes make us jealous. I thought you were earning a living in Tuscany or Piedmont by acting as facchino or cicerone, and I pitied you sincerely, as I would a child of my own. You know I always did call you my child.”

“Come, come, what then?”

“Patience⁠—patience!”

“I am patient, but go on.”

“All at once I see you pass through the barrier with a groom, a tilbury, and fine new clothes. You must have discovered a mine, or else become a stockbroker.”

“So that, as you confess, you are jealous?”

“No, I am pleased⁠—so pleased that I wished to congratulate you; but as I am not quite properly dressed, I chose my opportunity, that I might not compromise you.”

“Yes, and a fine opportunity you have chosen!” exclaimed Andrea; “you speak to me before my servant.”

“How can I help that, my boy? I speak to you when I can catch you. You have a quick horse, a light tilbury, you are naturally as slippery as an eel; if I had missed you tonight, I might not have had another chance.”

“You see, I do not conceal myself.”

“You are lucky; I wish I could say as much, for I do conceal myself; and then I was afraid you would not recognize me, but you did,” added Caderousse with his unpleasant smile. “It was very polite of you.”

“Come,” said Andrea, “what do you want?”

“You do not speak affectionately to me, Benedetto, my old friend, that is not right⁠—take care, or I may become troublesome.”

This menace smothered the young man’s passion. He urged the horse again into a trot.

“You should not speak so to an old friend like me, Caderousse, as you said just now; you are a native of Marseilles, I am⁠—”

“Do you know then now what you are?”

“No, but I was brought up in Corsica; you are old and obstinate, I am young and wilful. Between people like us threats are out of place, everything should be amicably arranged. Is it my fault if fortune, which has frowned on you, has been kind to me?”

“Fortune has been kind to you, then? Your tilbury, your groom, your clothes, are not then hired? Good, so much the better,” said Caderousse, his eyes sparkling with avarice.

“Oh, you knew that well enough before speaking to me,” said Andrea, becoming more and more excited. “If I had been wearing