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

“No, I think not, for he ordered his breakfast at ten o’clock.”

“Well, I will go and take a turn in the Champs-Élysées, and at ten o’clock I will return here; meanwhile, if the count should come in, will you beg him not to go out again without seeing me?”

“You may depend on my doing so, sir,” said Baptistin.

Albert left the cab in which he had come at the count’s door, intending to take a turn on foot. As he was passing the Allée des Veuves, he thought he saw the count’s horses standing at Gosset’s shooting-gallery; he approached, and soon recognized the coachman.

“Is the count shooting in the gallery?” said Morcerf.

“Yes, sir,” replied the coachman. While he was speaking, Albert had heard the report of two or three pistol-shots. He entered, and on his way met the waiter.

“Excuse me, my lord,” said the lad; “but will you have the kindness to wait a moment?”

“What for, Philip?” asked Albert, who, being a constant visitor there, did not understand this opposition to his entrance.

“Because the person who is now in the gallery prefers being alone, and never practices in the presence of anyone.”

“Not even before you, Philip? Then who loads his pistol?”

“His servant.”

“A Nubian?”

“A negro.”

“It is he, then.”

“Do you know this gentleman?”

“Yes, and I am come to look for him; he is a friend of mine.”

“Oh, that is quite another thing, then. I will go immediately and inform him of your arrival.”

And Philip, urged by his own curiosity, entered the gallery; a second afterwards, Monte Cristo appeared on the threshold.

“I ask your pardon, my dear count,” said Albert, “for following you here, and I must first tell you that it was not the fault of your servants that I did so; I alone am to blame for the indiscretion. I went to your house, and they told me you were out, but that they expected you home at ten o’clock to breakfast. I was walking about in order to pass away the time till ten o’clock, when I caught sight of your carriage and horses.”

“What you have just said induces me to hope that you intend breakfasting with me.”

“No, thank you, I am thinking of other things besides breakfast just now; perhaps we may take that meal at a later hour and in worse company.”

“What on earth are you talking of?”

“I am to fight today.”

“For what?”

“For the sake of fighting!”

“Yes, I understand that, but what is the quarrel? People fight for all sorts of reasons, you know.”

“I fight in the cause of honor.”

“Ah, that is something serious.”

“So serious, that I come to beg you to render me a service.”

“What is it?”

“To be my second.”

“That is a serious matter, and we will not discuss it here; let us speak of nothing till we get home. Ali, bring me some water.”

The count turned up his sleeves, and passed into the little vestibule where the gentlemen were accustomed to wash their hands after shooting.

“Come in, my lord,” said Philip in a low tone, “and I will show you something droll.” Morcerf entered, and in place of the usual target, he saw some playing-cards fixed against the wall. At a distance Albert thought it was a complete suit, for he counted from the ace to the ten.

“Ah, ha,” said Albert, “I see you were preparing for a game of cards.”

“No,” said the count, “I was making a suit.”

“How?” said Albert.

“Those are really aces and twos which you see, but my shots have turned them into threes, fives, sevens, eights, nines, and tens.”

Albert approached. In fact, the bullets had actually pierced the cards in the exact places which the painted signs would otherwise have occupied, the lines and distances being as regularly kept as if they had been ruled with pencil. In going up to the target Morcerf picked up two or three swallows that had been rash enough to come within the range of the count’s pistol.

“Diable!” said Morcerf.

“What would you have, my dear viscount?” said Monte Cristo, wiping his hands on the towel which Ali had brought him; “I must occupy my leisure moments in some way or other. But come, I am waiting for you.”

Both men entered Monte Cristo’s carriage, which in the course of a few minutes deposited them safely at No. 30. Monte Cristo took Albert into his study, and pointing to a seat, placed another for himself. “Now let us talk the matter over quietly,” said the count.

“You see I am perfectly composed,” said Albert.

“With whom are you going to fight?”

“With Beauchamp.”

“One of your friends!”

“Of course; it is always with friends that one fights.”

“I suppose you have some cause of quarrel?”

“I have.”

“What has he done to you?”

“There appeared in his journal last night⁠—but wait, and read for yourself.” And Albert handed over the paper to the count, who read as follows:

“A correspondent at Yanina informs us of a fact of which until now we had remained in ignorance. The castle which formed the protection of the town was given up to the Turks by a French officer named Fernand, in whom the grand vizier, Ali Tepelini, had reposed the greatest confidence.”

“Well,” said Monte Cristo, “what do you see in that to annoy you?”

“What do I see in it?”

“Yes; what does it signify to you if the castle of Yanina was given up by a French officer?”

“It signifies to my father, the Count of Morcerf, whose Christian name is Fernand!”

“Did your father serve under Ali Pasha?”

“Yes; that is to say, he fought for the independence of the Greeks, and hence arises the calumny.”

“Oh, my dear viscount, do talk reason!”

“I do not desire to do otherwise.”

“Now, just tell me who the devil should know in France that the officer Fernand and the Count of Morcerf are one and the same person? and who cares now about Yanina, which was taken as long ago as the year 1822 or 1823?”

“That just shows the meanness of this slander. They have allowed all this time to elapse, and then all of a sudden rake