Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.40-74
toiling together, and through their unwillingness to change `
` any of the customs of their paternal house, taking six years `
` to accomplish what less scrupulous people would have `
` effected in two or three. Marseilles resounded with their `
` well-earned praises. At last, one day, Emmanuel came to his `
` wife, who had just finished making up the accounts. `Julie,' `
` said he to her, `Cocles has just given me the last rouleau `
` of a hundred francs; that completes the 250,000 francs we `
` had fixed as the limits of our gains. Can you content `
` yourself with the small fortune which we shall possess for `
` the future? Listen to me. Our house transacts business to `
` the amount of a million a year, from which we derive an `
` income of 40,000 francs. We can dispose of the business, if `
` we please, in an hour, for I have received a letter from M. `
` Delaunay, in which he offers to purchase the good-will of `
` the house, to unite with his own, for 300,000 francs. Advise `
` me what I had better do.' -- `Emmanuel,' returned my sister, `
` `the house of Morrel can only be carried on by a Morrel. Is `
` it not worth 300,000 francs to save our father's name from `
` the chances of evil fortune and failure?' -- `I thought so,' `
` replied Emmanuel; `but I wished to have your advice.' -- `
` `This is my counsel: -- Our accounts are made up and our `
` bills paid; all we have to do is to stop the issue of any `
` more, and close our office.' This was done instantly. It was `
` three o'clock; at a quarter past, a merchant presented `
` himself to insure two ships; it was a clear profit of 15,000 `
` francs. `Monsieur,' said Emmanuel, `have the goodness to `
` address yourself to M. Delaunay. We have quitted business.' `
` -- `How long?' inquired the astonished merchant. `A quarter `
` of an hour,' was the reply. And this is the reason, `
` monsieur," continued Maximilian, "of my sister and `
` brother-in-law having only 25,000 francs a year." `
` `
` Maximilian had scarcely finished his story, during which the `
` count's heart had swelled within him, when Emmanuel entered `
` wearing a hat and coat. He saluted the count with the air of `
` a man who is aware of the rank of his guest; then, after `
` having led Monte Cristo around the little garden, he `
` returned to the house. A large vase of Japan porcelain, `
` filled with flowers that loaded the air with their perfume, `
` stood in the salon. Julie, suitably dressed, and her hair `
` arranged (she had accomplished this feat in less than ten `
` minutes), received the count on his entrance. The songs of `
` the birds were heard in an aviary hard by, and the branches `
` of laburnums and rose acacias formed an exquisite framework `
` to the blue velvet curtains. Everything in this charming `
` retreat, from the warble of the birds to the smile of the `
` mistress, breathed tranquillity and repose. The count had `
` felt the influence of this happiness from the moment he `
` entered the house, and he remained silent and pensive, `
` forgetting that he was expected to renew the conversation, `
` which had ceased after the first salutations had been `
` exchanged. The silence became almost painful when, by a `
` violent effort, tearing himself from his pleasing reverie -- `
` "Madame," said he at length, "I pray you to excuse my `
` emotion, which must astonish you who are only accustomed to `
` the happiness I meet here; but contentment is so new a sight `
` to me, that I could never be weary of looking at yourself `
` and your husband." `
` `
` "We are very happy, monsieur," replied Julie; "but we have `
` also known unhappiness, and few have ever undergone more `
` bitter sufferings than ourselves." The Count's features `
` displayed an expression of the most intense curiosity. `
` `
` "Oh, all this is a family history, as Chateau-Renaud told `
` you the other day," observed Maximilian. "This humble `
` picture would have but little interest for you, accustomed `
` as you are to behold the pleasures and the misfortunes of `
` the wealthy and industrious; but such as we are, we have `
` experienced bitter sorrows." `
` `
` "And God has poured balm into your wounds, as he does into `
` those of all who are in affliction?" said Monte Cristo `
` inquiringly. `
` `
` "Yes, count," returned Julie, "we may indeed say he has, for `
` he has done for us what he grants only to his chosen; he `
` sent us one of his angels." The count's cheeks became `
` scarlet, and he coughed, in order to have an excuse for `
` putting his handkerchief to his mouth. "Those born to `
` wealth, and who have the means of gratifying every wish," `
` said Emmanuel, "know not what is the real happiness of life, `
` just as those who have been tossed on the stormy waters of `
` the ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize the `
` blessings of fair weather." `
` `
` Monte Cristo rose, and without making any answer (for the `
` tremulousness of his voice would have betrayed his emotion) `
` walked up and down the apartment with a slow step. `
` `
` "Our magnificence makes you smile, count," said Maximilian, `
` who had followed him with his eyes. "No, no," returned Monte `
` Cristo, pale as death, pressing one hand on his heart to `
` still its throbbings, while with the other he pointed to a `
` crystal cover, beneath which a silken purse lay on a black `
` velvet cushion. "I was wondering what could be the `
` significance of this purse, with the paper at one end and `
` the large diamond at the other." `
` `
` "Count," replied Maximilian, with an air of gravity, "those `
` are our most precious family treasures." `
` `
` "The stone seems very brilliant," answered the count. `
` `
` "Oh, my brother does not allude to its value, although it `
` has been estimated at 100,000 francs; he means, that the `
` articles contained in this purse are the relics of the angel `
` I spoke of just now." `
` `
` "This I do not comprehend; and yet I may not ask for an `
` explanation, madame," replied Monte Cristo bowing. "Pardon `
` me, I had no intention of committing an indiscretion." `
` `
` "Indiscretion, -- oh, you make us happy by giving us an `
` excuse for expatiating on this subject. If we wanted to `
` conceal the noble action this purse commemorates, we should `
` not expose it thus to view. Oh, would we could relate it `
` everywhere, and to every one, so that the emotion of our `
` unknown benefactor might reveal his presence." `
` `
` "Ah, really," said Monte Cristo in a half-stifled voice. `
` `
` "Monsieur," returned Maximilian, raising the glass cover, `
` and respectfully kissing the silken purse, "this has touched `
` the hand of a man who saved my father from suicide, us from `
` ruin, and our name from shame and disgrace, -- a man by `
` whose matchless benevolence we poor children, doomed to want `
` and wretchedness, can at present hear every one envying our `
` happy lot. This letter" (as he spoke, Maximilian drew a `
` letter from the purse and gave it to the count) -- "this `
` letter was written by him the day that my father had taken a `
` desperate resolution, and this diamond was given by the `
` generous unknown to my sister as her dowry." Monte Cristo `
` opened the letter, and read it with an indescribable feeling `
` of delight. It was the letter written (as our readers know) `
` to Julie, and signed "Sinbad the Sailor." "Unknown you say, `
` is the man who rendered you this service -- unknown to you?" `
` `
` "Yes; we have never had the happiness of pressing his hand," `
` continued Maximilian. "We have supplicated heaven in vain to `
` grant us this favor, but the whole affair has had a `
` mysterious meaning that we cannot comprehend -- we have been `
` guided by an invisible hand, -- a hand as powerful as that `
` of an enchanter." `
` `
` "Oh," cried Julie, "I have not lost all hope of some day `
` kissing that hand, as I now kiss the purse which he has `
` touched. Four years ago, Penelon was at Trieste -- Penelon, `
` count, is the old sailor you saw in the garden, and who, `
` from quartermaster, has become gardener -- Penelon, when he `
` was at Trieste, saw on the quay an Englishman, who was on `
` the point of embarking on board a yacht, and he recognized `
` him as the person who called on my father the fifth of June, `
` 1829, and who wrote me this letter on the fifth of `
` September. He felt convinced of his identity, but he did not `
` venture to address him." `
` `
` "An Englishman," said Monte Cristo, who grew uneasy at the `
` attention with which Julie looked at him. "An Englishman you `
` say?" `
` `
` "Yes," replied Maximilian, "an Englishman, who represented `
` himself as the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson `
` French, at Rome. It was this that made me start when you `
` said the other day, at M. de Morcerf's, that Messrs. Thomson `
` French were your bankers. That happened, as I told you, in `
` 1829. For God's sake, tell me, did you know this `
` Englishman?" `
` `
` "But you tell me, also, that the house of Thomson French `
` have constantly denied having rendered you this service?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Then is it not probable that this Englishman may be some `
` one who, grateful for a kindness your father had shown him, `
` and which he himself had forgotten, has taken this method of `
` requiting the obligation?" `
` `
` "Everything is possible in this affair, even a miracle." `
` `
` "What was his name?" asked Monte Cristo. `
` `
` "He gave no other name," answered Julie, looking earnestly `
` at the count, "than that at the end of his letter -- `Sinbad `
` the Sailor.'" `
` `
` "Which is evidently not his real name, but a fictitious `
` one." `
` `
` Then, noticing that Julie was struck with the sound of his `
` voice, -- `
` `
` "Tell me," continued he, "was he not about my height, `
` perhaps a little taller, with his chin imprisoned, as it `
` were, in a high cravat; his coat closely buttoned up, and `
` constantly taking out his pencil?" `
` `
` "Oh, do you then know him?" cried Julie, whose eyes sparkled `
` with joy. `
`
` any of the customs of their paternal house, taking six years `
` to accomplish what less scrupulous people would have `
` effected in two or three. Marseilles resounded with their `
` well-earned praises. At last, one day, Emmanuel came to his `
` wife, who had just finished making up the accounts. `Julie,' `
` said he to her, `Cocles has just given me the last rouleau `
` of a hundred francs; that completes the 250,000 francs we `
` had fixed as the limits of our gains. Can you content `
` yourself with the small fortune which we shall possess for `
` the future? Listen to me. Our house transacts business to `
` the amount of a million a year, from which we derive an `
` income of 40,000 francs. We can dispose of the business, if `
` we please, in an hour, for I have received a letter from M. `
` Delaunay, in which he offers to purchase the good-will of `
` the house, to unite with his own, for 300,000 francs. Advise `
` me what I had better do.' -- `Emmanuel,' returned my sister, `
` `the house of Morrel can only be carried on by a Morrel. Is `
` it not worth 300,000 francs to save our father's name from `
` the chances of evil fortune and failure?' -- `I thought so,' `
` replied Emmanuel; `but I wished to have your advice.' -- `
` `This is my counsel: -- Our accounts are made up and our `
` bills paid; all we have to do is to stop the issue of any `
` more, and close our office.' This was done instantly. It was `
` three o'clock; at a quarter past, a merchant presented `
` himself to insure two ships; it was a clear profit of 15,000 `
` francs. `Monsieur,' said Emmanuel, `have the goodness to `
` address yourself to M. Delaunay. We have quitted business.' `
` -- `How long?' inquired the astonished merchant. `A quarter `
` of an hour,' was the reply. And this is the reason, `
` monsieur," continued Maximilian, "of my sister and `
` brother-in-law having only 25,000 francs a year." `
` `
` Maximilian had scarcely finished his story, during which the `
` count's heart had swelled within him, when Emmanuel entered `
` wearing a hat and coat. He saluted the count with the air of `
` a man who is aware of the rank of his guest; then, after `
` having led Monte Cristo around the little garden, he `
` returned to the house. A large vase of Japan porcelain, `
` filled with flowers that loaded the air with their perfume, `
` stood in the salon. Julie, suitably dressed, and her hair `
` arranged (she had accomplished this feat in less than ten `
` minutes), received the count on his entrance. The songs of `
` the birds were heard in an aviary hard by, and the branches `
` of laburnums and rose acacias formed an exquisite framework `
` to the blue velvet curtains. Everything in this charming `
` retreat, from the warble of the birds to the smile of the `
` mistress, breathed tranquillity and repose. The count had `
` felt the influence of this happiness from the moment he `
` entered the house, and he remained silent and pensive, `
` forgetting that he was expected to renew the conversation, `
` which had ceased after the first salutations had been `
` exchanged. The silence became almost painful when, by a `
` violent effort, tearing himself from his pleasing reverie -- `
` "Madame," said he at length, "I pray you to excuse my `
` emotion, which must astonish you who are only accustomed to `
` the happiness I meet here; but contentment is so new a sight `
` to me, that I could never be weary of looking at yourself `
` and your husband." `
` `
` "We are very happy, monsieur," replied Julie; "but we have `
` also known unhappiness, and few have ever undergone more `
` bitter sufferings than ourselves." The Count's features `
` displayed an expression of the most intense curiosity. `
` `
` "Oh, all this is a family history, as Chateau-Renaud told `
` you the other day," observed Maximilian. "This humble `
` picture would have but little interest for you, accustomed `
` as you are to behold the pleasures and the misfortunes of `
` the wealthy and industrious; but such as we are, we have `
` experienced bitter sorrows." `
` `
` "And God has poured balm into your wounds, as he does into `
` those of all who are in affliction?" said Monte Cristo `
` inquiringly. `
` `
` "Yes, count," returned Julie, "we may indeed say he has, for `
` he has done for us what he grants only to his chosen; he `
` sent us one of his angels." The count's cheeks became `
` scarlet, and he coughed, in order to have an excuse for `
` putting his handkerchief to his mouth. "Those born to `
` wealth, and who have the means of gratifying every wish," `
` said Emmanuel, "know not what is the real happiness of life, `
` just as those who have been tossed on the stormy waters of `
` the ocean on a few frail planks can alone realize the `
` blessings of fair weather." `
` `
` Monte Cristo rose, and without making any answer (for the `
` tremulousness of his voice would have betrayed his emotion) `
` walked up and down the apartment with a slow step. `
` `
` "Our magnificence makes you smile, count," said Maximilian, `
` who had followed him with his eyes. "No, no," returned Monte `
` Cristo, pale as death, pressing one hand on his heart to `
` still its throbbings, while with the other he pointed to a `
` crystal cover, beneath which a silken purse lay on a black `
` velvet cushion. "I was wondering what could be the `
` significance of this purse, with the paper at one end and `
` the large diamond at the other." `
` `
` "Count," replied Maximilian, with an air of gravity, "those `
` are our most precious family treasures." `
` `
` "The stone seems very brilliant," answered the count. `
` `
` "Oh, my brother does not allude to its value, although it `
` has been estimated at 100,000 francs; he means, that the `
` articles contained in this purse are the relics of the angel `
` I spoke of just now." `
` `
` "This I do not comprehend; and yet I may not ask for an `
` explanation, madame," replied Monte Cristo bowing. "Pardon `
` me, I had no intention of committing an indiscretion." `
` `
` "Indiscretion, -- oh, you make us happy by giving us an `
` excuse for expatiating on this subject. If we wanted to `
` conceal the noble action this purse commemorates, we should `
` not expose it thus to view. Oh, would we could relate it `
` everywhere, and to every one, so that the emotion of our `
` unknown benefactor might reveal his presence." `
` `
` "Ah, really," said Monte Cristo in a half-stifled voice. `
` `
` "Monsieur," returned Maximilian, raising the glass cover, `
` and respectfully kissing the silken purse, "this has touched `
` the hand of a man who saved my father from suicide, us from `
` ruin, and our name from shame and disgrace, -- a man by `
` whose matchless benevolence we poor children, doomed to want `
` and wretchedness, can at present hear every one envying our `
` happy lot. This letter" (as he spoke, Maximilian drew a `
` letter from the purse and gave it to the count) -- "this `
` letter was written by him the day that my father had taken a `
` desperate resolution, and this diamond was given by the `
` generous unknown to my sister as her dowry." Monte Cristo `
` opened the letter, and read it with an indescribable feeling `
` of delight. It was the letter written (as our readers know) `
` to Julie, and signed "Sinbad the Sailor." "Unknown you say, `
` is the man who rendered you this service -- unknown to you?" `
` `
` "Yes; we have never had the happiness of pressing his hand," `
` continued Maximilian. "We have supplicated heaven in vain to `
` grant us this favor, but the whole affair has had a `
` mysterious meaning that we cannot comprehend -- we have been `
` guided by an invisible hand, -- a hand as powerful as that `
` of an enchanter." `
` `
` "Oh," cried Julie, "I have not lost all hope of some day `
` kissing that hand, as I now kiss the purse which he has `
` touched. Four years ago, Penelon was at Trieste -- Penelon, `
` count, is the old sailor you saw in the garden, and who, `
` from quartermaster, has become gardener -- Penelon, when he `
` was at Trieste, saw on the quay an Englishman, who was on `
` the point of embarking on board a yacht, and he recognized `
` him as the person who called on my father the fifth of June, `
` 1829, and who wrote me this letter on the fifth of `
` September. He felt convinced of his identity, but he did not `
` venture to address him." `
` `
` "An Englishman," said Monte Cristo, who grew uneasy at the `
` attention with which Julie looked at him. "An Englishman you `
` say?" `
` `
` "Yes," replied Maximilian, "an Englishman, who represented `
` himself as the confidential clerk of the house of Thomson `
` French, at Rome. It was this that made me start when you `
` said the other day, at M. de Morcerf's, that Messrs. Thomson `
` French were your bankers. That happened, as I told you, in `
` 1829. For God's sake, tell me, did you know this `
` Englishman?" `
` `
` "But you tell me, also, that the house of Thomson French `
` have constantly denied having rendered you this service?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Then is it not probable that this Englishman may be some `
` one who, grateful for a kindness your father had shown him, `
` and which he himself had forgotten, has taken this method of `
` requiting the obligation?" `
` `
` "Everything is possible in this affair, even a miracle." `
` `
` "What was his name?" asked Monte Cristo. `
` `
` "He gave no other name," answered Julie, looking earnestly `
` at the count, "than that at the end of his letter -- `Sinbad `
` the Sailor.'" `
` `
` "Which is evidently not his real name, but a fictitious `
` one." `
` `
` Then, noticing that Julie was struck with the sound of his `
` voice, -- `
` `
` "Tell me," continued he, "was he not about my height, `
` perhaps a little taller, with his chin imprisoned, as it `
` were, in a high cravat; his coat closely buttoned up, and `
` constantly taking out his pencil?" `
` `
` "Oh, do you then know him?" cried Julie, whose eyes sparkled `
` with joy. `
`