Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.40-74
`
` "Yes; but as he said you would make an excellent steward, I `
` concluded you had stolen -- that was all." `
` `
` "Oh, your excellency," returned Bertuccio in deep contempt. `
` `
` "Or, as you are a Corsican, that you had been unable to `
` resist the desire of making a `stiff,' as you call it." `
` `
` "Yes, my good master," cried Bertuccio, casting himself at `
` the count's feet, "it was simply vengeance -- nothing else." `
` `
` "I understand that, but I do not understand what it is that `
` galvanizes you in this manner." `
` `
` "But, monsieur, it is very natural," returned Bertuccio, `
` "since it was in this house that my vengeance was `
` accomplished." `
` `
` "What! my house?" `
` `
` "Oh, your excellency, it was not yours, then." `
` `
` "Whose, then? The Marquis de Saint-Meran, I think, the `
` concierge said. What had you to revenge on the Marquis de `
` Saint-Meran?" `
` `
` "Oh, it was not on him, monsieur; it was on another." `
` `
` "This is strange," returned Monte Cristo, seeming to yield `
` to his reflections, "that you should find yourself without `
` any preparation in a house where the event happened that `
` causes you so much remorse." `
` `
` "Monsieur," said the steward, "it is fatality, I am sure. `
` First, you purchase a house at Auteuil -- this house is the `
` one where I have committed an assassination; you descend to `
` the garden by the same staircase by which he descended; you `
` stop at the spot where he received the blow; and two paces `
` farther is the grave in which he had just buried his child. `
` This is not chance, for chance, in this case, is too much `
` like providence." `
` `
` "Well, amiable Corsican, let us suppose it is providence. I `
` always suppose anything people please, and, besides, you `
` must concede something to diseased minds. Come, collect `
` yourself, and tell me all." `
` `
` "I have related it but once, and that was to the Abbe `
` Busoni. Such things," continued Bertuccio, shaking his head, `
` "are only related under the seal of confession." `
` `
` "Then," said the count, "I refer you to your confessor. Turn `
` Chartreux or Trappist, and relate your secrets, but, as for `
` me, I do not like any one who is alarmed by such phantasms, `
` and I do not choose that my servants should be afraid to `
` walk in the garden of an evening. I confess I am not very `
` desirous of a visit from the commissary of police, for, in `
` Italy, justice is only paid when silent -- in France she is `
` paid only when she speaks. Peste, I thought you somewhat `
` Corsican, a great deal smuggler, and an excellent steward; `
` but I see you have other strings to your bow. You are no `
` longer in my service, Monsieur Bertuccio." `
` `
` "Oh, your excellency, your excellency!" cried the steward, `
` struck with terror at this threat, "if that is the only `
` reason I cannot remain in your service, I will tell all, for `
` if I quit you, it will only be to go to the scaffold." `
` `
` "That is different," replied Monte Cristo; "but if you `
` intend to tell an untruth, reflect it were better not to `
` speak at all." `
` `
` "No, monsieur, I swear to you, by my hopes of salvation, I `
` will tell you all, for the Abbe Busoni himself only knew a `
` part of my secret; but, I pray you, go away from that `
` plane-tree. The moon is just bursting through the clouds, `
` and there, standing where you do, and wrapped in that cloak `
` that conceals your figure, you remind me of M. de `
` Villefort." `
` `
` "What!" cried Monte Cristo, "it was M. de Villefort?" `
` `
` "Your excellency knows him?" `
` `
` "The former royal attorney at Nimes?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Who married the Marquis of Saint-Meran's daughter?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Who enjoyed the reputation of being the most severe, the `
` most upright, the most rigid magistrate on the bench?" `
` `
` "Well, monsieur," said Bertuccio, "this man with this `
` spotless reputation" -- `
` `
` "Well?" `
` `
` "Was a villain." `
` `
` "Bah," replied Monte Cristo, "impossible!" `
` `
` "It is as I tell you." `
` `
` "Ah, really," said Monte Cristo. "Have you proof of this?" `
` `
` "I had it." `
` `
` "And you have lost it; how stupid!" `
` `
` "Yes; but by careful search it might be recovered." `
` `
` "Really," returned the count, "relate it to me, for it `
` begins to interest me." And the count, humming an air from `
` "Lucia," went to sit down on a bench, while Bertuccio `
` followed him, collecting his thoughts. Bertuccio remained `
` standing before him. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 44 `
` The Vendetta. `
` `
` "At what point shall I begin my story, your excellency?" `
` asked Bertuccio. `
` `
` "Where you please," returned Monte Cristo, "since I know `
` nothing at all of it." `
` `
` "I thought the Abbe Busoni had told your excellency." `
` `
` "Some particulars, doubtless, but that is seven or eight `
` years ago, and I have forgotten them." `
` `
` "Then I can speak without fear of tiring your excellency." `
` `
` "Go on, M. Bertuccio; you will supply the want of the `
` evening papers." `
` `
` "The story begins in 1815." `
` `
` "Ah," said Monte Cristo, "1815 is not yesterday." `
` `
` "No, monsieur, and yet I recollect all things as clearly as `
` if they had happened but then. I had a brother, an elder `
` brother, who was in the service of the emperor; he had `
` become lieutenant in a regiment composed entirely of `
` Corsicans. This brother was my only friend; we became `
` orphans -- I at five, he at eighteen. He brought me up as if `
` I had been his son, and in 1814 he married. When the emperor `
` returned from the Island of Elba, my brother instantly `
` joined the army, was slightly wounded at Waterloo, and `
` retired with the army beyond the Loire." `
` `
` "But that is the history of the Hundred Days, M. Bertuccio," `
` said the count; "unless I am mistaken, it has been already `
` written." `
` `
` "Excuse me, excellency, but these details are necessary, and `
` you promised to be patient." `
` `
` "Go on; I will keep my word." `
` `
` "One day we received a letter. I should tell you that we `
` lived in the little village of Rogliano, at the extremity of `
` Cape Corso. This letter was from my brother. He told us that `
` the army was disbanded, and that he should return by `
` Chateauroux, Clermont-Ferrand, Le Puy, and Nimes; and, if I `
` had any money, he prayed me to leave it for him at Nimes, `
` with an inn-keeper with whom I had dealings." `
` `
` "In the smuggling line?" said Monte Cristo. `
` `
` "Eh, your excellency? Every one must live." `
` `
` "Certainly; go on." `
` `
` "I loved my brother tenderly, as I told your excellency, and `
` I resolved not to send the money, but to take it to him `
` myself. I possessed a thousand francs. I left five hundred `
` with Assunta, my sister-in-law, and with the other five `
` hundred I set off for Nimes. It was easy to do so, and as I `
` had my boat and a lading to take in at sea, everything `
` favored my project. But, after we had taken in our cargo, `
` the wind became contrary, so that we were four or five days `
` without being able to enter the Rhone. At last, however, we `
` succeeded, and worked up to Arles. I left the boat between `
` Bellegarde and Beaucaire, and took the road to Nimes." `
` `
` "We are getting to the story now?" `
` `
` "Yes, your excellency; excuse me, but, as you will see, I `
` only tell you what is absolutely necessary. Just at this `
` time the famous massacres took place in the south of France. `
` Three brigands, called Trestaillon, Truphemy, and Graffan, `
` publicly assassinated everybody whom they suspected of `
` Bonapartism. You have doubtless heard of these massacres, `
` your excellency?" `
`
` "Yes; but as he said you would make an excellent steward, I `
` concluded you had stolen -- that was all." `
` `
` "Oh, your excellency," returned Bertuccio in deep contempt. `
` `
` "Or, as you are a Corsican, that you had been unable to `
` resist the desire of making a `stiff,' as you call it." `
` `
` "Yes, my good master," cried Bertuccio, casting himself at `
` the count's feet, "it was simply vengeance -- nothing else." `
` `
` "I understand that, but I do not understand what it is that `
` galvanizes you in this manner." `
` `
` "But, monsieur, it is very natural," returned Bertuccio, `
` "since it was in this house that my vengeance was `
` accomplished." `
` `
` "What! my house?" `
` `
` "Oh, your excellency, it was not yours, then." `
` `
` "Whose, then? The Marquis de Saint-Meran, I think, the `
` concierge said. What had you to revenge on the Marquis de `
` Saint-Meran?" `
` `
` "Oh, it was not on him, monsieur; it was on another." `
` `
` "This is strange," returned Monte Cristo, seeming to yield `
` to his reflections, "that you should find yourself without `
` any preparation in a house where the event happened that `
` causes you so much remorse." `
` `
` "Monsieur," said the steward, "it is fatality, I am sure. `
` First, you purchase a house at Auteuil -- this house is the `
` one where I have committed an assassination; you descend to `
` the garden by the same staircase by which he descended; you `
` stop at the spot where he received the blow; and two paces `
` farther is the grave in which he had just buried his child. `
` This is not chance, for chance, in this case, is too much `
` like providence." `
` `
` "Well, amiable Corsican, let us suppose it is providence. I `
` always suppose anything people please, and, besides, you `
` must concede something to diseased minds. Come, collect `
` yourself, and tell me all." `
` `
` "I have related it but once, and that was to the Abbe `
` Busoni. Such things," continued Bertuccio, shaking his head, `
` "are only related under the seal of confession." `
` `
` "Then," said the count, "I refer you to your confessor. Turn `
` Chartreux or Trappist, and relate your secrets, but, as for `
` me, I do not like any one who is alarmed by such phantasms, `
` and I do not choose that my servants should be afraid to `
` walk in the garden of an evening. I confess I am not very `
` desirous of a visit from the commissary of police, for, in `
` Italy, justice is only paid when silent -- in France she is `
` paid only when she speaks. Peste, I thought you somewhat `
` Corsican, a great deal smuggler, and an excellent steward; `
` but I see you have other strings to your bow. You are no `
` longer in my service, Monsieur Bertuccio." `
` `
` "Oh, your excellency, your excellency!" cried the steward, `
` struck with terror at this threat, "if that is the only `
` reason I cannot remain in your service, I will tell all, for `
` if I quit you, it will only be to go to the scaffold." `
` `
` "That is different," replied Monte Cristo; "but if you `
` intend to tell an untruth, reflect it were better not to `
` speak at all." `
` `
` "No, monsieur, I swear to you, by my hopes of salvation, I `
` will tell you all, for the Abbe Busoni himself only knew a `
` part of my secret; but, I pray you, go away from that `
` plane-tree. The moon is just bursting through the clouds, `
` and there, standing where you do, and wrapped in that cloak `
` that conceals your figure, you remind me of M. de `
` Villefort." `
` `
` "What!" cried Monte Cristo, "it was M. de Villefort?" `
` `
` "Your excellency knows him?" `
` `
` "The former royal attorney at Nimes?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Who married the Marquis of Saint-Meran's daughter?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Who enjoyed the reputation of being the most severe, the `
` most upright, the most rigid magistrate on the bench?" `
` `
` "Well, monsieur," said Bertuccio, "this man with this `
` spotless reputation" -- `
` `
` "Well?" `
` `
` "Was a villain." `
` `
` "Bah," replied Monte Cristo, "impossible!" `
` `
` "It is as I tell you." `
` `
` "Ah, really," said Monte Cristo. "Have you proof of this?" `
` `
` "I had it." `
` `
` "And you have lost it; how stupid!" `
` `
` "Yes; but by careful search it might be recovered." `
` `
` "Really," returned the count, "relate it to me, for it `
` begins to interest me." And the count, humming an air from `
` "Lucia," went to sit down on a bench, while Bertuccio `
` followed him, collecting his thoughts. Bertuccio remained `
` standing before him. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 44 `
` The Vendetta. `
` `
` "At what point shall I begin my story, your excellency?" `
` asked Bertuccio. `
` `
` "Where you please," returned Monte Cristo, "since I know `
` nothing at all of it." `
` `
` "I thought the Abbe Busoni had told your excellency." `
` `
` "Some particulars, doubtless, but that is seven or eight `
` years ago, and I have forgotten them." `
` `
` "Then I can speak without fear of tiring your excellency." `
` `
` "Go on, M. Bertuccio; you will supply the want of the `
` evening papers." `
` `
` "The story begins in 1815." `
` `
` "Ah," said Monte Cristo, "1815 is not yesterday." `
` `
` "No, monsieur, and yet I recollect all things as clearly as `
` if they had happened but then. I had a brother, an elder `
` brother, who was in the service of the emperor; he had `
` become lieutenant in a regiment composed entirely of `
` Corsicans. This brother was my only friend; we became `
` orphans -- I at five, he at eighteen. He brought me up as if `
` I had been his son, and in 1814 he married. When the emperor `
` returned from the Island of Elba, my brother instantly `
` joined the army, was slightly wounded at Waterloo, and `
` retired with the army beyond the Loire." `
` `
` "But that is the history of the Hundred Days, M. Bertuccio," `
` said the count; "unless I am mistaken, it has been already `
` written." `
` `
` "Excuse me, excellency, but these details are necessary, and `
` you promised to be patient." `
` `
` "Go on; I will keep my word." `
` `
` "One day we received a letter. I should tell you that we `
` lived in the little village of Rogliano, at the extremity of `
` Cape Corso. This letter was from my brother. He told us that `
` the army was disbanded, and that he should return by `
` Chateauroux, Clermont-Ferrand, Le Puy, and Nimes; and, if I `
` had any money, he prayed me to leave it for him at Nimes, `
` with an inn-keeper with whom I had dealings." `
` `
` "In the smuggling line?" said Monte Cristo. `
` `
` "Eh, your excellency? Every one must live." `
` `
` "Certainly; go on." `
` `
` "I loved my brother tenderly, as I told your excellency, and `
` I resolved not to send the money, but to take it to him `
` myself. I possessed a thousand francs. I left five hundred `
` with Assunta, my sister-in-law, and with the other five `
` hundred I set off for Nimes. It was easy to do so, and as I `
` had my boat and a lading to take in at sea, everything `
` favored my project. But, after we had taken in our cargo, `
` the wind became contrary, so that we were four or five days `
` without being able to enter the Rhone. At last, however, we `
` succeeded, and worked up to Arles. I left the boat between `
` Bellegarde and Beaucaire, and took the road to Nimes." `
` `
` "We are getting to the story now?" `
` `
` "Yes, your excellency; excuse me, but, as you will see, I `
` only tell you what is absolutely necessary. Just at this `
` time the famous massacres took place in the south of France. `
` Three brigands, called Trestaillon, Truphemy, and Graffan, `
` publicly assassinated everybody whom they suspected of `
` Bonapartism. You have doubtless heard of these massacres, `
` your excellency?" `
`