Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.40-74
passed silently into the breakfast-room, and every one took `
` his place. "Gentlemen," said the count, seating himself, `
` "permit me to make a confession which must form my excuse `
` for any improprieties I may commit. I am a stranger, and a `
` stranger to such a degree, that this is the first time I `
` have ever been at Paris. The French way of living is utterly `
` unknown to me, and up to the present time I have followed `
` the Eastern customs, which are entirely in contrast to the `
` Parisian. I beg you, therefore, to excuse if you find `
` anything in me too Turkish, too Italian, or too Arabian. `
` Now, then, let us breakfast." `
` `
` "With what an air he says all this," muttered Beauchamp; `
` "decidedly he is a great man." `
` `
` "A great man in his own country," added Debray. `
` `
` "A great man in every country, M. Debray," said `
` Chateau-Renaud. The count was, it may be remembered, a most `
` temperate guest. Albert remarked this, expressing his fears `
` lest, at the outset, the Parisian mode of life should `
` displease the traveller in the most essential point. "My `
` dear count," said he, "I fear one thing, and that is, that `
` the fare of the Rue du Helder is not so much to your taste `
` as that of the Piazza di Spagni. I ought to have consulted `
` you on the point, and have had some dishes prepared `
` expressly." `
` `
` "Did you know me better," returned the count, smiling, "you `
` would not give one thought of such a thing for a traveller `
` like myself, who has successively lived on maccaroni at `
` Naples, polenta at Milan, olla podrida at Valencia, pilau at `
` Constantinople, karrick in India, and swallows' nests in `
` China. I eat everywhere, and of everything, only I eat but `
` little; and to-day, that you reproach me with my want of `
` appetite, is my day of appetite, for I have not eaten since `
` yesterday morning." `
` `
` "What," cried all the guests, "you have not eaten for four `
` and twenty hours?" `
` `
` "No," replied the count; "I was forced to go out of my road `
` to obtain some information near Nimes, so that I was `
` somewhat late, and therefore I did not choose to stop." `
` `
` "And you ate in your carriage?" asked Morcerf. `
` `
` "No, I slept, as I generally do when I am weary without `
` having the courage to amuse myself, or when I am hungry `
` without feeling inclined to eat." `
` `
` "But you can sleep when you please, monsieur?" said Morrel. `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "You have a recipe for it?" `
` `
` "An infallible one." `
` `
` "That would be invaluable to us in Africa, who have not `
` always any food to eat, and rarely anything to drink." `
` `
` "Yes," said Monte Cristo; "but, unfortunately, a recipe `
` excellent for a man like myself would be very dangerous `
` applied to an army, which might not awake when it was `
` needed." `
` `
` "May we inquire what is this recipe?" asked Debray. `
` `
` "Oh, yes," returned Monte Cristo; "I make no secret of it. `
` It is a mixture of excellent opium, which I fetched myself `
` from Canton in order to have it pure, and the best hashish `
` which grows in the East -- that is, between the Tigris and `
` the Euphrates. These two ingredients are mixed in equal `
` proportions, and formed into pills. Ten minutes after one is `
` taken, the effect is produced. Ask Baron Franz d'Epinay; I `
` think he tasted them one day." `
` `
` "Yes," replied Morcerf, "he said something about it to me." `
` `
` "But," said Beauchamp, who, as became a journalist, was very `
` incredulous, "you always carry this drug about you?" `
` `
` "Always." `
` `
` "Would it be an indiscretion to ask to see those precious `
` pills?" continued Beauchamp, hoping to take him at a `
` disadvantage. `
` `
` "No, monsieur," returned the count; and he drew from his `
` pocket a marvellous casket, formed out of a single emerald `
` and closed by a golden lid which unscrewed and gave passage `
` to a small greenish colored pellet about the size of a pea. `
` This ball had an acrid and penetrating odor. There were four `
` or five more in the emerald, which would contain about a `
` dozen. The casket passed around the table, but it was more `
` to examine the admirable emerald than to see the pills that `
` it passed from hand to hand. "And is it your cook who `
` prepares these pills?" asked Beauchamp. `
` `
` "Oh, no, monsieur," replied Monte Cristo; "I do not thus `
` betray my enjoyments to the vulgar. I am a tolerable `
` chemist, and prepare my pills myself." `
` `
` "This is a magnificent emerald, and the largest I have ever `
` seen," said Chateau-Renaud, "although my mother has some `
` remarkable family jewels." `
` `
` "I had three similar ones," returned Monte Cristo. "I gave `
` one to the Sultan, who mounted it in his sabre; another to `
` our holy father the Pope, who had it set in his tiara, `
` opposite to one nearly as large, though not so fine, given `
` by the Emperor Napoleon to his predecessor, Pius VII. I kept `
` the third for myself, and I had it hollowed out, which `
` reduced its value, but rendered it more commodious for the `
` purpose I intended." Every one looked at Monte Cristo with `
` astonishment; he spoke with so much simplicity that it was `
` evident he spoke the truth, or that he was mad. However, the `
` sight of the emerald made them naturally incline to the `
` former belief. "And what did these two sovereigns give you `
` in exchange for these magnificent presents?" asked Debray. `
` `
` "The Sultan, the liberty of a woman," replied the Count; `
` "the Pope, the life of a man; so that once in my life I have `
` been as powerful as if heaven had brought me into the world `
` on the steps of a throne." `
` `
` "And it was Peppino you saved, was it not?" cried Morcerf; `
` "it was for him that you obtained pardon?" `
` `
` "Perhaps," returned the count, smiling. `
` `
` "My dear count, you have no idea what pleasure it gives me `
` to hear you speak thus," said Morcerf. "I had announced you `
` beforehand to my friends as an enchanter of the `Arabian `
` Nights,' a wizard of the Middle Ages; but the Parisians are `
` so subtle in paradoxes that they mistake for caprices of the `
` imagination the most incontestable truths, when these truths `
` do not form a part of their daily existence. For example, `
` here is Debray who reads, and Beauchamp who prints, every `
` day, `A member of the Jockey Club has been stopped and `
` robbed on the Boulevard;' `four persons have been `
` assassinated in the Rue St. Denis' or `the Faubourg St. `
` Germain;' `ten, fifteen, or twenty thieves, have been `
` arrested in a cafe on the Boulevard du Temple, or in the `
` Thermes de Julien,' -- and yet these same men deny the `
` existence of the bandits in the Maremma, the Campagna di `
` Romana, or the Pontine Marshes. Tell them yourself that I `
` was taken by bandits, and that without your generous `
` intercession I should now have been sleeping in the `
` Catacombs of St. Sebastian, instead of receiving them in my `
` humble abode in the Rue du Helder." `
` `
` "Ah," said Monte Cristo "you promised me never to mention `
` that circumstance." `
` `
` "It was not I who made that promise," cried Morcerf; "it `
` must have been some one else whom you have rescued in the `
` same manner, and whom you have forgotten. Pray speak of it, `
` for I shall not only, I trust, relate the little I do know, `
` but also a great deal I do not know." `
` `
` "It seems to me," returned the count, smiling, "that you `
` played a sufficiently important part to know as well as `
` myself what happened." `
` `
` "Well, you promise me, if I tell all I know, to relate, in `
` your turn, all that I do not know?" `
` `
` "That is but fair," replied Monte Cristo. `
` `
` "Well," said Morcerf, "for three days I believed myself the `
` object of the attentions of a masque, whom I took for a `
` descendant of Tullia or Poppoea, while I was simply the `
` object of the attentions of a contadina, and I say contadina `
` to avoid saying peasant girl. What I know is, that, like a `
` fool, a greater fool than he of whom I spoke just now, I `
` mistook for this peasant girl a young bandit of fifteen or `
` sixteen, with a beardless chin and slim waist, and who, just `
` as I was about to imprint a chaste salute on his lips, `
` placed a pistol to my head, and, aided by seven or eight `
` others, led, or rather dragged me, to the Catacombs of St. `
` Sebastian, where I found a highly educated brigand chief `
` perusing Caesar's `Commentaries,' and who deigned to leave `
` off reading to inform me, that unless the next morning, `
` before six o'clock, four thousand piastres were paid into `
` his account at his banker's, at a quarter past six I should `
` have ceased to exist. The letter is still to be seen, for it `
` is in Franz d'Epinay's possession, signed by me, and with a `
` postscript of M. Luigi Vampa. This is all I know, but I know `
` not, count, how you contrived to inspire so much respect in `
` the bandits of Rome who ordinarily have so little respect `
` for anything. I assure you, Franz and I were lost in `
` admiration." `
` `
` "Nothing more simple," returned the count. "I had known the `
` famous Vampa for more than ten years. When he was quite a `
` child, and only a shepherd, I gave him a few gold pieces for `
` showing me my way, and he, in order to repay me, gave me a `
` poniard, the hilt of which he had carved with his own hand, `
` and which you may have seen in my collection of arms. In `
`
` his place. "Gentlemen," said the count, seating himself, `
` "permit me to make a confession which must form my excuse `
` for any improprieties I may commit. I am a stranger, and a `
` stranger to such a degree, that this is the first time I `
` have ever been at Paris. The French way of living is utterly `
` unknown to me, and up to the present time I have followed `
` the Eastern customs, which are entirely in contrast to the `
` Parisian. I beg you, therefore, to excuse if you find `
` anything in me too Turkish, too Italian, or too Arabian. `
` Now, then, let us breakfast." `
` `
` "With what an air he says all this," muttered Beauchamp; `
` "decidedly he is a great man." `
` `
` "A great man in his own country," added Debray. `
` `
` "A great man in every country, M. Debray," said `
` Chateau-Renaud. The count was, it may be remembered, a most `
` temperate guest. Albert remarked this, expressing his fears `
` lest, at the outset, the Parisian mode of life should `
` displease the traveller in the most essential point. "My `
` dear count," said he, "I fear one thing, and that is, that `
` the fare of the Rue du Helder is not so much to your taste `
` as that of the Piazza di Spagni. I ought to have consulted `
` you on the point, and have had some dishes prepared `
` expressly." `
` `
` "Did you know me better," returned the count, smiling, "you `
` would not give one thought of such a thing for a traveller `
` like myself, who has successively lived on maccaroni at `
` Naples, polenta at Milan, olla podrida at Valencia, pilau at `
` Constantinople, karrick in India, and swallows' nests in `
` China. I eat everywhere, and of everything, only I eat but `
` little; and to-day, that you reproach me with my want of `
` appetite, is my day of appetite, for I have not eaten since `
` yesterday morning." `
` `
` "What," cried all the guests, "you have not eaten for four `
` and twenty hours?" `
` `
` "No," replied the count; "I was forced to go out of my road `
` to obtain some information near Nimes, so that I was `
` somewhat late, and therefore I did not choose to stop." `
` `
` "And you ate in your carriage?" asked Morcerf. `
` `
` "No, I slept, as I generally do when I am weary without `
` having the courage to amuse myself, or when I am hungry `
` without feeling inclined to eat." `
` `
` "But you can sleep when you please, monsieur?" said Morrel. `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "You have a recipe for it?" `
` `
` "An infallible one." `
` `
` "That would be invaluable to us in Africa, who have not `
` always any food to eat, and rarely anything to drink." `
` `
` "Yes," said Monte Cristo; "but, unfortunately, a recipe `
` excellent for a man like myself would be very dangerous `
` applied to an army, which might not awake when it was `
` needed." `
` `
` "May we inquire what is this recipe?" asked Debray. `
` `
` "Oh, yes," returned Monte Cristo; "I make no secret of it. `
` It is a mixture of excellent opium, which I fetched myself `
` from Canton in order to have it pure, and the best hashish `
` which grows in the East -- that is, between the Tigris and `
` the Euphrates. These two ingredients are mixed in equal `
` proportions, and formed into pills. Ten minutes after one is `
` taken, the effect is produced. Ask Baron Franz d'Epinay; I `
` think he tasted them one day." `
` `
` "Yes," replied Morcerf, "he said something about it to me." `
` `
` "But," said Beauchamp, who, as became a journalist, was very `
` incredulous, "you always carry this drug about you?" `
` `
` "Always." `
` `
` "Would it be an indiscretion to ask to see those precious `
` pills?" continued Beauchamp, hoping to take him at a `
` disadvantage. `
` `
` "No, monsieur," returned the count; and he drew from his `
` pocket a marvellous casket, formed out of a single emerald `
` and closed by a golden lid which unscrewed and gave passage `
` to a small greenish colored pellet about the size of a pea. `
` This ball had an acrid and penetrating odor. There were four `
` or five more in the emerald, which would contain about a `
` dozen. The casket passed around the table, but it was more `
` to examine the admirable emerald than to see the pills that `
` it passed from hand to hand. "And is it your cook who `
` prepares these pills?" asked Beauchamp. `
` `
` "Oh, no, monsieur," replied Monte Cristo; "I do not thus `
` betray my enjoyments to the vulgar. I am a tolerable `
` chemist, and prepare my pills myself." `
` `
` "This is a magnificent emerald, and the largest I have ever `
` seen," said Chateau-Renaud, "although my mother has some `
` remarkable family jewels." `
` `
` "I had three similar ones," returned Monte Cristo. "I gave `
` one to the Sultan, who mounted it in his sabre; another to `
` our holy father the Pope, who had it set in his tiara, `
` opposite to one nearly as large, though not so fine, given `
` by the Emperor Napoleon to his predecessor, Pius VII. I kept `
` the third for myself, and I had it hollowed out, which `
` reduced its value, but rendered it more commodious for the `
` purpose I intended." Every one looked at Monte Cristo with `
` astonishment; he spoke with so much simplicity that it was `
` evident he spoke the truth, or that he was mad. However, the `
` sight of the emerald made them naturally incline to the `
` former belief. "And what did these two sovereigns give you `
` in exchange for these magnificent presents?" asked Debray. `
` `
` "The Sultan, the liberty of a woman," replied the Count; `
` "the Pope, the life of a man; so that once in my life I have `
` been as powerful as if heaven had brought me into the world `
` on the steps of a throne." `
` `
` "And it was Peppino you saved, was it not?" cried Morcerf; `
` "it was for him that you obtained pardon?" `
` `
` "Perhaps," returned the count, smiling. `
` `
` "My dear count, you have no idea what pleasure it gives me `
` to hear you speak thus," said Morcerf. "I had announced you `
` beforehand to my friends as an enchanter of the `Arabian `
` Nights,' a wizard of the Middle Ages; but the Parisians are `
` so subtle in paradoxes that they mistake for caprices of the `
` imagination the most incontestable truths, when these truths `
` do not form a part of their daily existence. For example, `
` here is Debray who reads, and Beauchamp who prints, every `
` day, `A member of the Jockey Club has been stopped and `
` robbed on the Boulevard;' `four persons have been `
` assassinated in the Rue St. Denis' or `the Faubourg St. `
` Germain;' `ten, fifteen, or twenty thieves, have been `
` arrested in a cafe on the Boulevard du Temple, or in the `
` Thermes de Julien,' -- and yet these same men deny the `
` existence of the bandits in the Maremma, the Campagna di `
` Romana, or the Pontine Marshes. Tell them yourself that I `
` was taken by bandits, and that without your generous `
` intercession I should now have been sleeping in the `
` Catacombs of St. Sebastian, instead of receiving them in my `
` humble abode in the Rue du Helder." `
` `
` "Ah," said Monte Cristo "you promised me never to mention `
` that circumstance." `
` `
` "It was not I who made that promise," cried Morcerf; "it `
` must have been some one else whom you have rescued in the `
` same manner, and whom you have forgotten. Pray speak of it, `
` for I shall not only, I trust, relate the little I do know, `
` but also a great deal I do not know." `
` `
` "It seems to me," returned the count, smiling, "that you `
` played a sufficiently important part to know as well as `
` myself what happened." `
` `
` "Well, you promise me, if I tell all I know, to relate, in `
` your turn, all that I do not know?" `
` `
` "That is but fair," replied Monte Cristo. `
` `
` "Well," said Morcerf, "for three days I believed myself the `
` object of the attentions of a masque, whom I took for a `
` descendant of Tullia or Poppoea, while I was simply the `
` object of the attentions of a contadina, and I say contadina `
` to avoid saying peasant girl. What I know is, that, like a `
` fool, a greater fool than he of whom I spoke just now, I `
` mistook for this peasant girl a young bandit of fifteen or `
` sixteen, with a beardless chin and slim waist, and who, just `
` as I was about to imprint a chaste salute on his lips, `
` placed a pistol to my head, and, aided by seven or eight `
` others, led, or rather dragged me, to the Catacombs of St. `
` Sebastian, where I found a highly educated brigand chief `
` perusing Caesar's `Commentaries,' and who deigned to leave `
` off reading to inform me, that unless the next morning, `
` before six o'clock, four thousand piastres were paid into `
` his account at his banker's, at a quarter past six I should `
` have ceased to exist. The letter is still to be seen, for it `
` is in Franz d'Epinay's possession, signed by me, and with a `
` postscript of M. Luigi Vampa. This is all I know, but I know `
` not, count, how you contrived to inspire so much respect in `
` the bandits of Rome who ordinarily have so little respect `
` for anything. I assure you, Franz and I were lost in `
` admiration." `
` `
` "Nothing more simple," returned the count. "I had known the `
` famous Vampa for more than ten years. When he was quite a `
` child, and only a shepherd, I gave him a few gold pieces for `
` showing me my way, and he, in order to repay me, gave me a `
` poniard, the hilt of which he had carved with his own hand, `
` and which you may have seen in my collection of arms. In `
`