Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.11-39
immovable features; but they felt the sacredness of his `
` grief, and kindly refrained from questioning him as to its `
` cause, while, with instinctive delicacy, they left him to `
` indulge his sorrow alone. When he withdrew from the scene of `
` his painful recollections, they both accompanied him `
` downstairs, reiterating their hope that he would come again `
` whenever he pleased, and assuring him that their poor `
` dwelling would ever be open to him. As Edmond passed the `
` door on the fourth floor, he paused to inquire whether `
` Caderousse the tailor still dwelt there; but he received, `
` for reply, that the person in question had got into `
` difficulties, and at the present time kept a small inn on `
` the route from Bellegarde to Beaucaire. `
` `
` Having obtained the address of the person to whom the house `
` in the Allees de Meillan belonged, Dantes next proceeded `
` thither, and, under the name of Lord Wilmore (the name and `
` title inscribed on his passport), purchased the small `
` dwelling for the sum of twenty-five thousand francs, at `
` least ten thousand more than it was worth; but had its owner `
` asked half a million, it would unhesitatingly have been `
` given. The very same day the occupants of the apartments on `
` the fifth floor of the house, now become the property of `
` Dantes, were duly informed by the notary who had arranged `
` the necessary transfer of deeds, etc., that the new landlord `
` gave them their choice of any of the rooms in the house, `
` without the least augmentation of rent, upon condition of `
` their giving instant possession of the two small chambers `
` they at present inhabited. `
` `
` This strange event aroused great wonder and curiosity in the `
` neighborhood of the Allees de Meillan, and a multitude of `
` theories were afloat, none of which was anywhere near the `
` truth. But what raised public astonishment to a climax, and `
` set all conjecture at defiance, was the knowledge that the `
` same stranger who had in the morning visited the Allees de `
` Meillan had been seen in the evening walking in the little `
` village of the Catalans, and afterwards observed to enter a `
` poor fisherman's hut, and to pass more than an hour in `
` inquiring after persons who had either been dead or gone `
` away for more than fifteen or sixteen years. But on the `
` following day the family from whom all these particulars had `
` been asked received a handsome present, consisting of an `
` entirely new fishing-boat, with two seines and a tender. The `
` delighted recipients of these munificent gifts would gladly `
` have poured out their thanks to their generous benefactor, `
` but they had seen him, upon quitting the hut, merely give `
` some orders to a sailor, and then springing lightly on `
` horseback, leave Marseilles by the Porte d'Aix. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 26 `
` The Pont du Gard Inn. `
` `
` Such of my readers as have made a pedestrian excursion to `
` the south of France may perchance have noticed, about midway `
` between the town of Beaucaire and the village of Bellegarde, `
` -- a little nearer to the former than to the latter, -- a `
` small roadside inn, from the front of which hung, creaking `
` and flapping in the wind, a sheet of tin covered with a `
` grotesque representation of the Pont du Gard. This modern `
` place of entertainment stood on the left-hand side of the `
` post road, and backed upon the Rhone. It also boasted of `
` what in Languedoc is styled a garden, consisting of a small `
` plot of ground, on the side opposite to the main entrance `
` reserved for the reception of guests. A few dingy olives and `
` stunted fig-trees struggled hard for existence, but their `
` withered dusty foliage abundantly proved how unequal was the `
` conflict. Between these sickly shrubs grew a scanty supply `
` of garlic, tomatoes, and eschalots; while, lone and `
` solitary, like a forgotten sentinel, a tall pine raised its `
` melancholy head in one of the corners of this unattractive `
` spot, and displayed its flexible stem and fan-shaped summit `
` dried and cracked by the fierce heat of the sub-tropical `
` sun. `
` `
` In the surrounding plain, which more resembled a dusty lake `
` than solid ground, were scattered a few miserable stalks of `
` wheat, the effect, no doubt, of a curious desire on the part `
` of the agriculturists of the country to see whether such a `
` thing as the raising of grain in those parched regions was `
` practicable. Each stalk served as a perch for a grasshopper, `
` which regaled the passers by through this Egyptian scene `
` with its strident, monotonous note. `
` `
` For about seven or eight years the little tavern had been `
` kept by a man and his wife, with two servants, -- a `
` chambermaid named Trinette, and a hostler called Pecaud. `
` This small staff was quite equal to all the requirements, `
` for a canal between Beaucaire and Aiguemortes had `
` revolutionized transportation by substituting boats for the `
` cart and the stagecoach. And, as though to add to the daily `
` misery which this prosperous canal inflicted on the `
` unfortunate inn-keeper, whose utter ruin it was fast `
` accomplishing, it was situated between the Rhone from which `
` it had its source and the post-road it had depleted, not a `
` hundred steps from the inn, of which we have given a brief `
` but faithful description. `
` `
` The inn-keeper himself was a man of from forty to fifty-five `
` years of age, tall, strong, and bony, a perfect specimen of `
` the natives of those southern latitudes; he had dark, `
` sparkling, and deep-set eyes, hooked nose, and teeth white `
` as those of a carnivorous animal; his hair, like his beard, `
` which he wore under his chin, was thick and curly, and in `
` spite of his age but slightly interspersed with a few `
` silvery threads. His naturally dark complexion had assumed a `
` still further shade of brown from the habit the unfortunate `
` man had acquired of stationing himself from morning till eve `
` at the threshold of his door, on the lookout for guests who `
` seldom came, yet there he stood, day after day, exposed to `
` the meridional rays of a burning sun, with no other `
` protection for his head than a red handkerchief twisted `
` around it, after the manner of the Spanish muleteers. This `
` man was our old acquaintance, Gaspard Caderousse. His wife, `
` on the contrary, whose maiden name had been Madeleine `
` Radelle, was pale, meagre, and sickly-looking. Born in the `
` neighborhood of Arles, she had shared in the beauty for `
` which its women are proverbial; but that beauty had `
` gradually withered beneath the devastating influence of the `
` slow fever so prevalent among dwellers by the ponds of `
` Aiguemortes and the marshes of Camargue. She remained nearly `
` always in her second-floor chamber, shivering in her chair, `
` or stretched languid and feeble on her bed, while her `
` husband kept his daily watch at the door -- a duty he `
` performed with so much the greater willingness, as it saved `
` him the necessity of listening to the endless plaints and `
` murmurs of his helpmate, who never saw him without breaking `
` out into bitter invectives against fate; to all of which her `
` husband would calmly return an unvarying reply, in these `
` philosophic words: -- `
` `
` "Hush, La Carconte. It is God's pleasure that things should `
` be so." `
` `
` The sobriquet of La Carconte had been bestowed on Madeleine `
` Radelle from the fact that she had been born in a village, `
` so called, situated between Salon and Lambesc; and as a `
` custom existed among the inhabitants of that part of France `
` where Caderousse lived of styling every person by some `
` particular and distinctive appellation, her husband had `
` bestowed on her the name of La Carconte in place of her `
` sweet and euphonious name of Madeleine, which, in all `
` probability, his rude gutteral language would not have `
` enabled him to pronounce. Still, let it not be supposed that `
` amid this affected resignation to the will of Providence, `
` the unfortunate inn-keeper did not writhe under the double `
` misery of seeing the hateful canal carry off his customers `
` and his profits, and the daily infliction of his peevish `
` partner's murmurs and lamentations. `
` `
` Like other dwellers in the south, he was a man of sober `
` habits and moderate desires, but fond of external show, `
` vain, and addicted to display. During the days of his `
` prosperity, not a festivity took place without himself and `
` wife being among the spectators. He dressed in the `
` picturesque costume worn upon grand occasions by the `
` inhabitants of the south of France, bearing equal `
` resemblance to the style adopted both by the Catalans and `
` Andalusians; while La Carconte displayed the charming `
` fashion prevalent among the women of Arles, a mode of attire `
` borrowed equally from Greece and Arabia. But, by degrees, `
` watch-chains, necklaces, parti-colored scarfs, embroidered `
` bodices, velvet vests, elegantly worked stockings, striped `
` gaiters, and silver buckles for the shoes, all disappeared; `
` and Gaspard Caderousse, unable to appear abroad in his `
` pristine splendor, had given up any further participation in `
` the pomps and vanities, both for himself and wife, although `
` a bitter feeling of envious discontent filled his mind as `
` the sound of mirth and merry music from the joyous revellers `
` reached even the miserable hostelry to which he still clung, `
` more for the shelter than the profit it afforded. `
` `
` Caderousse, then, was, as usual, at his place of observation `
` before the door, his eyes glancing listlessly from a piece `
` of closely shaven grass -- on which some fowls were `
` industriously, though fruitlessly, endeavoring to turn up `
` some grain or insect suited to their palate -- to the `
` deserted road, which led away to the north and south, when `
` he was aroused by the shrill voice of his wife, and `
` grumbling to himself as he went, he mounted to her chamber, `
` first taking care, however, to set the entrance door wide `
` open, as an invitation to any chance traveller who might be `
` passing. `
` `
` At the moment Caderousse quitted his sentry-like watch `
` before the door, the road on which he so eagerly strained `
` his sight was void and lonely as a desert at mid-day. There `
` it lay stretching out into one interminable line of dust and `
` sand, with its sides bordered by tall, meagre trees, `
` altogether presenting so uninviting an appearance, that no `
` one in his senses could have imagined that any traveller, at `
` liberty to regulate his hours for journeying, would choose `
` to expose himself in such a formidable Sahara. Nevertheless, `
` had Caderousse but retained his post a few minutes longer, `
` he might have caught a dim outline of something approaching `
` from the direction of Bellegarde; as the moving object drew `
` nearer, he would easily have perceived that it consisted of `
` a man and horse, between whom the kindest and most amiable `
` understanding appeared to exist. The horse was of Hungarian `
`
` grief, and kindly refrained from questioning him as to its `
` cause, while, with instinctive delicacy, they left him to `
` indulge his sorrow alone. When he withdrew from the scene of `
` his painful recollections, they both accompanied him `
` downstairs, reiterating their hope that he would come again `
` whenever he pleased, and assuring him that their poor `
` dwelling would ever be open to him. As Edmond passed the `
` door on the fourth floor, he paused to inquire whether `
` Caderousse the tailor still dwelt there; but he received, `
` for reply, that the person in question had got into `
` difficulties, and at the present time kept a small inn on `
` the route from Bellegarde to Beaucaire. `
` `
` Having obtained the address of the person to whom the house `
` in the Allees de Meillan belonged, Dantes next proceeded `
` thither, and, under the name of Lord Wilmore (the name and `
` title inscribed on his passport), purchased the small `
` dwelling for the sum of twenty-five thousand francs, at `
` least ten thousand more than it was worth; but had its owner `
` asked half a million, it would unhesitatingly have been `
` given. The very same day the occupants of the apartments on `
` the fifth floor of the house, now become the property of `
` Dantes, were duly informed by the notary who had arranged `
` the necessary transfer of deeds, etc., that the new landlord `
` gave them their choice of any of the rooms in the house, `
` without the least augmentation of rent, upon condition of `
` their giving instant possession of the two small chambers `
` they at present inhabited. `
` `
` This strange event aroused great wonder and curiosity in the `
` neighborhood of the Allees de Meillan, and a multitude of `
` theories were afloat, none of which was anywhere near the `
` truth. But what raised public astonishment to a climax, and `
` set all conjecture at defiance, was the knowledge that the `
` same stranger who had in the morning visited the Allees de `
` Meillan had been seen in the evening walking in the little `
` village of the Catalans, and afterwards observed to enter a `
` poor fisherman's hut, and to pass more than an hour in `
` inquiring after persons who had either been dead or gone `
` away for more than fifteen or sixteen years. But on the `
` following day the family from whom all these particulars had `
` been asked received a handsome present, consisting of an `
` entirely new fishing-boat, with two seines and a tender. The `
` delighted recipients of these munificent gifts would gladly `
` have poured out their thanks to their generous benefactor, `
` but they had seen him, upon quitting the hut, merely give `
` some orders to a sailor, and then springing lightly on `
` horseback, leave Marseilles by the Porte d'Aix. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 26 `
` The Pont du Gard Inn. `
` `
` Such of my readers as have made a pedestrian excursion to `
` the south of France may perchance have noticed, about midway `
` between the town of Beaucaire and the village of Bellegarde, `
` -- a little nearer to the former than to the latter, -- a `
` small roadside inn, from the front of which hung, creaking `
` and flapping in the wind, a sheet of tin covered with a `
` grotesque representation of the Pont du Gard. This modern `
` place of entertainment stood on the left-hand side of the `
` post road, and backed upon the Rhone. It also boasted of `
` what in Languedoc is styled a garden, consisting of a small `
` plot of ground, on the side opposite to the main entrance `
` reserved for the reception of guests. A few dingy olives and `
` stunted fig-trees struggled hard for existence, but their `
` withered dusty foliage abundantly proved how unequal was the `
` conflict. Between these sickly shrubs grew a scanty supply `
` of garlic, tomatoes, and eschalots; while, lone and `
` solitary, like a forgotten sentinel, a tall pine raised its `
` melancholy head in one of the corners of this unattractive `
` spot, and displayed its flexible stem and fan-shaped summit `
` dried and cracked by the fierce heat of the sub-tropical `
` sun. `
` `
` In the surrounding plain, which more resembled a dusty lake `
` than solid ground, were scattered a few miserable stalks of `
` wheat, the effect, no doubt, of a curious desire on the part `
` of the agriculturists of the country to see whether such a `
` thing as the raising of grain in those parched regions was `
` practicable. Each stalk served as a perch for a grasshopper, `
` which regaled the passers by through this Egyptian scene `
` with its strident, monotonous note. `
` `
` For about seven or eight years the little tavern had been `
` kept by a man and his wife, with two servants, -- a `
` chambermaid named Trinette, and a hostler called Pecaud. `
` This small staff was quite equal to all the requirements, `
` for a canal between Beaucaire and Aiguemortes had `
` revolutionized transportation by substituting boats for the `
` cart and the stagecoach. And, as though to add to the daily `
` misery which this prosperous canal inflicted on the `
` unfortunate inn-keeper, whose utter ruin it was fast `
` accomplishing, it was situated between the Rhone from which `
` it had its source and the post-road it had depleted, not a `
` hundred steps from the inn, of which we have given a brief `
` but faithful description. `
` `
` The inn-keeper himself was a man of from forty to fifty-five `
` years of age, tall, strong, and bony, a perfect specimen of `
` the natives of those southern latitudes; he had dark, `
` sparkling, and deep-set eyes, hooked nose, and teeth white `
` as those of a carnivorous animal; his hair, like his beard, `
` which he wore under his chin, was thick and curly, and in `
` spite of his age but slightly interspersed with a few `
` silvery threads. His naturally dark complexion had assumed a `
` still further shade of brown from the habit the unfortunate `
` man had acquired of stationing himself from morning till eve `
` at the threshold of his door, on the lookout for guests who `
` seldom came, yet there he stood, day after day, exposed to `
` the meridional rays of a burning sun, with no other `
` protection for his head than a red handkerchief twisted `
` around it, after the manner of the Spanish muleteers. This `
` man was our old acquaintance, Gaspard Caderousse. His wife, `
` on the contrary, whose maiden name had been Madeleine `
` Radelle, was pale, meagre, and sickly-looking. Born in the `
` neighborhood of Arles, she had shared in the beauty for `
` which its women are proverbial; but that beauty had `
` gradually withered beneath the devastating influence of the `
` slow fever so prevalent among dwellers by the ponds of `
` Aiguemortes and the marshes of Camargue. She remained nearly `
` always in her second-floor chamber, shivering in her chair, `
` or stretched languid and feeble on her bed, while her `
` husband kept his daily watch at the door -- a duty he `
` performed with so much the greater willingness, as it saved `
` him the necessity of listening to the endless plaints and `
` murmurs of his helpmate, who never saw him without breaking `
` out into bitter invectives against fate; to all of which her `
` husband would calmly return an unvarying reply, in these `
` philosophic words: -- `
` `
` "Hush, La Carconte. It is God's pleasure that things should `
` be so." `
` `
` The sobriquet of La Carconte had been bestowed on Madeleine `
` Radelle from the fact that she had been born in a village, `
` so called, situated between Salon and Lambesc; and as a `
` custom existed among the inhabitants of that part of France `
` where Caderousse lived of styling every person by some `
` particular and distinctive appellation, her husband had `
` bestowed on her the name of La Carconte in place of her `
` sweet and euphonious name of Madeleine, which, in all `
` probability, his rude gutteral language would not have `
` enabled him to pronounce. Still, let it not be supposed that `
` amid this affected resignation to the will of Providence, `
` the unfortunate inn-keeper did not writhe under the double `
` misery of seeing the hateful canal carry off his customers `
` and his profits, and the daily infliction of his peevish `
` partner's murmurs and lamentations. `
` `
` Like other dwellers in the south, he was a man of sober `
` habits and moderate desires, but fond of external show, `
` vain, and addicted to display. During the days of his `
` prosperity, not a festivity took place without himself and `
` wife being among the spectators. He dressed in the `
` picturesque costume worn upon grand occasions by the `
` inhabitants of the south of France, bearing equal `
` resemblance to the style adopted both by the Catalans and `
` Andalusians; while La Carconte displayed the charming `
` fashion prevalent among the women of Arles, a mode of attire `
` borrowed equally from Greece and Arabia. But, by degrees, `
` watch-chains, necklaces, parti-colored scarfs, embroidered `
` bodices, velvet vests, elegantly worked stockings, striped `
` gaiters, and silver buckles for the shoes, all disappeared; `
` and Gaspard Caderousse, unable to appear abroad in his `
` pristine splendor, had given up any further participation in `
` the pomps and vanities, both for himself and wife, although `
` a bitter feeling of envious discontent filled his mind as `
` the sound of mirth and merry music from the joyous revellers `
` reached even the miserable hostelry to which he still clung, `
` more for the shelter than the profit it afforded. `
` `
` Caderousse, then, was, as usual, at his place of observation `
` before the door, his eyes glancing listlessly from a piece `
` of closely shaven grass -- on which some fowls were `
` industriously, though fruitlessly, endeavoring to turn up `
` some grain or insect suited to their palate -- to the `
` deserted road, which led away to the north and south, when `
` he was aroused by the shrill voice of his wife, and `
` grumbling to himself as he went, he mounted to her chamber, `
` first taking care, however, to set the entrance door wide `
` open, as an invitation to any chance traveller who might be `
` passing. `
` `
` At the moment Caderousse quitted his sentry-like watch `
` before the door, the road on which he so eagerly strained `
` his sight was void and lonely as a desert at mid-day. There `
` it lay stretching out into one interminable line of dust and `
` sand, with its sides bordered by tall, meagre trees, `
` altogether presenting so uninviting an appearance, that no `
` one in his senses could have imagined that any traveller, at `
` liberty to regulate his hours for journeying, would choose `
` to expose himself in such a formidable Sahara. Nevertheless, `
` had Caderousse but retained his post a few minutes longer, `
` he might have caught a dim outline of something approaching `
` from the direction of Bellegarde; as the moving object drew `
` nearer, he would easily have perceived that it consisted of `
` a man and horse, between whom the kindest and most amiable `
` understanding appeared to exist. The horse was of Hungarian `
`