Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.75-117
`
` "You hesitate?" `
` `
` "Yes, -- I fear." `
` `
` "You fear to acknowledge that your correspondent his `
` deceived you? Oh, no self-love, Beauchamp. Acknowledge it, `
` Beauchamp; your courage cannot be doubted." `
` `
` "Not so," murmured the journalist; "on the contrary" -- `
` `
` Albert turned frightfully pale; he endeavored to speak, but `
` the words died on his lips. "My friend," said Beauchamp, in `
` the most affectionate tone, "I should gladly make an `
` apology; but, alas," -- `
` `
` "But what?" `
` `
` "The paragraph was correct, my friend." `
` `
` "What? That French officer" -- `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Fernand?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "The traitor who surrendered the castle of the man in whose `
` service he was" -- `
` `
` "Pardon me, my friend, that man was your father!" Albert `
` advanced furiously towards Beauchamp, but the latter `
` restrained him more by a mild look than by his extended `
` hand. `
` `
` "My friend," said he, "here is a proof of it." `
` `
` Albert opened the paper, it was an attestation of four `
` notable inhabitants of Yanina, proving that Colonel Fernand `
` Mondego, in the service of Ali Tepelini, had surrendered the `
` castle for two million crowns. The signatures were perfectly `
` legal. Albert tottered and fell overpowered in a chair. It `
` could no longer be doubted; the family name was fully given. `
` After a moment's mournful silence, his heart overflowed, and `
` he gave way to a flood of tears. Beauchamp, who had watched `
` with sincere pity the young man's paroxysm of grief, `
` approached him. "Now, Albert," said he, "you understand me `
` -- do you not? I wished to see all, and to judge of `
` everything for myself, hoping the explanation would be in `
` your father's favor, and that I might do him justice. But, `
` on the contrary, the particulars which are given prove that `
` Fernand Mondego, raised by Ali Pasha to the rank of `
` governor-general, is no other than Count Fernand of Morcerf; `
` then, recollecting the honor you had done me, in admitting `
` me to your friendship, I hastened to you." `
` `
` Albert, still extended on the chair, covered his face with `
` both hands, as if to prevent the light from reaching him. "I `
` hastened to you," continued Beauchamp, "to tell you, Albert, `
` that in this changing age, the faults of a father cannot `
` revert upon his children. Few have passed through this `
` revolutionary period, in the midst of which we were born, `
` without some stain of infamy or blood to soil the uniform of `
` the soldier, or the gown of the magistrate. Now I have these `
` proofs, Albert, and I am in your confidence, no human power `
` can force me to a duel which your own conscience would `
` reproach you with as criminal, but I come to offer you what `
` you can no longer demand of me. Do you wish these proofs, `
` these attestations, which I alone possess, to be destroyed? `
` Do you wish this frightful secret to remain with us? `
` Confided to me, it shall never escape my lips; say, Albert, `
` my friend, do you wish it?" `
` `
` Albert threw himself on Beauchamp's neck. "Ah, noble `
` fellow!" cried he. `
` `
` "Take these," said Beauchamp, presenting the papers to `
` Albert. `
` `
` Albert seized them with a convulsive hand, tore them in `
` pieces, and trembling lest the least vestige should escape `
` and one day appear to confront him, he approached the `
` wax-light, always kept burning for cigars, and burned every `
` fragment. "Dear, excellent friend," murmured Albert, still `
` burning the papers. `
` `
` "Let all be forgotten as a sorrowful dream," said Beauchamp; `
` "let it vanish as the last sparks from the blackened paper, `
` and disappear as the smoke from those silent ashes." `
` `
` "Yes, yes," said Albert, "and may there remain only the `
` eternal friendship which I promised to my deliverer, which `
` shall be transmitted to our children's children, and shall `
` always remind me that I owe my life and the honor of my name `
` to you, -- for had this been known, oh, Beauchamp, I should `
` have destroyed myself; or, -- no, my poor mother! I could `
` not have killed her by the same blow, -- I should have fled `
` from my country." `
` `
` "Dear Albert," said Beauchamp. But this sudden and `
` factitious joy soon forsook the young man, and was succeeded `
` by a still greater grief. `
` `
` "Well," said Beauchamp, "what still oppresses you, my `
` friend?" `
` `
` "I am broken-hearted," said Albert. "Listen, Beauchamp! I `
` cannot thus, in a moment relinquish the respect, the `
` confidence, and pride with which a father's untarnished name `
` inspires a son. Oh, Beauchamp, Beauchamp, how shall I now `
` approach mine? Shall I draw back my forehead from his `
` embrace, or withhold my hand from his? I am the most `
` wretched of men. Ah, my mother, my poor mother!" said `
` Albert, gazing through his tears at his mother's portrait; `
` "if you know this, how much must you suffer!" `
` `
` "Come," said Beauchamp, taking both his hands, "take `
` courage, my friend." `
` `
` "But how came that first note to be inserted in your `
` journal? Some unknown enemy -- an invisible foe -- has done `
` this." `
` `
` "The more must you fortify yourself, Albert. Let no trace of `
` emotion be visible on your countenance, bear your grief as `
` the cloud bears within it ruin and death -- a fatal secret, `
` known only when the storm bursts. Go, my friend, reserve `
` your strength for the moment when the crash shall come." `
` `
` "You think, then, all is not over yet?" said Albert, `
` horror-stricken. `
` `
` "I think nothing, my friend; but all things are possible. By `
` the way" -- `
` `
` "What?" said Albert, seeing that Beauchamp hesitated. `
` `
` "Are you going to marry Mademoiselle Danglars?" `
` `
` "Why do you ask me now?" `
` `
` "Because the rupture or fulfilment of this engagement is `
` connected with the person of whom we were speaking." `
` `
` "How?" said Albert, whose brow reddened; "you think M. `
` Danglars" -- `
` `
` "I ask you only how your engagement stands? Pray put no `
` construction on my words I do not mean they should convey, `
` and give them no undue weight." `
` `
` "No." said Albert, "the engagement is broken off." `
` `
` "Well," said Beauchamp. Then, seeing the young man was about `
` to relapse into melancholy, "Let us go out, Albert," said `
` he; "a ride in the wood in the phaeton, or on horseback, `
` will refresh you; we will then return to breakfast, and you `
` shall attend to your affairs, and I to mine." `
` `
` "Willingly," said Albert; "but let us walk. I think a little `
` exertion would do me good." The two friends walked out on `
` the fortress. When arrived at the Madeleine, -- "Since we `
` are out," said Beauchamp, "let us call on M. de Monte `
` Cristo; he is admirably adapted to revive one's spirits, `
` because he never interrogates, and in my opinion those who `
` ask no questions are the best comforters." `
` `
` "Gladly," said Albert; "I love him -- let us call." `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 85 `
` The Journey. `
` `
` Monte Cristo uttered a joyful exclamation on seeing the `
` young men together. "Ah, ha!" said he, "I hope all is over, `
` explained and settled." `
` `
` "Yes," said Beauchamp; "the absurd reports have died away, `
` and should they be renewed, I would be the first to oppose `
` them; so let us speak no more of it." `
` `
` "Albert will tell you," replied the count "that I gave him `
` the same advice. Look," added he. "I am finishing the most `
` execrable morning's work." `
` `
` "What is it?" said Albert; "arranging your papers, `
` apparently." `
` `
` "My papers, thank God, no, -- my papers are all in capital `
` order, because I have none; but M. Cavalcanti's." `
` `
` "M. Cavalcanti's?" asked Beauchamp. `
` `
` "Yes; do you not know that this is a young man whom the `
` count is introducing?" said Morcerf. `
` `
` "Let us not misunderstand each other," replied Monte Cristo; `
` "I introduce no one, and certainly not M. Cavalcanti." `
` `
`
` "You hesitate?" `
` `
` "Yes, -- I fear." `
` `
` "You fear to acknowledge that your correspondent his `
` deceived you? Oh, no self-love, Beauchamp. Acknowledge it, `
` Beauchamp; your courage cannot be doubted." `
` `
` "Not so," murmured the journalist; "on the contrary" -- `
` `
` Albert turned frightfully pale; he endeavored to speak, but `
` the words died on his lips. "My friend," said Beauchamp, in `
` the most affectionate tone, "I should gladly make an `
` apology; but, alas," -- `
` `
` "But what?" `
` `
` "The paragraph was correct, my friend." `
` `
` "What? That French officer" -- `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Fernand?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "The traitor who surrendered the castle of the man in whose `
` service he was" -- `
` `
` "Pardon me, my friend, that man was your father!" Albert `
` advanced furiously towards Beauchamp, but the latter `
` restrained him more by a mild look than by his extended `
` hand. `
` `
` "My friend," said he, "here is a proof of it." `
` `
` Albert opened the paper, it was an attestation of four `
` notable inhabitants of Yanina, proving that Colonel Fernand `
` Mondego, in the service of Ali Tepelini, had surrendered the `
` castle for two million crowns. The signatures were perfectly `
` legal. Albert tottered and fell overpowered in a chair. It `
` could no longer be doubted; the family name was fully given. `
` After a moment's mournful silence, his heart overflowed, and `
` he gave way to a flood of tears. Beauchamp, who had watched `
` with sincere pity the young man's paroxysm of grief, `
` approached him. "Now, Albert," said he, "you understand me `
` -- do you not? I wished to see all, and to judge of `
` everything for myself, hoping the explanation would be in `
` your father's favor, and that I might do him justice. But, `
` on the contrary, the particulars which are given prove that `
` Fernand Mondego, raised by Ali Pasha to the rank of `
` governor-general, is no other than Count Fernand of Morcerf; `
` then, recollecting the honor you had done me, in admitting `
` me to your friendship, I hastened to you." `
` `
` Albert, still extended on the chair, covered his face with `
` both hands, as if to prevent the light from reaching him. "I `
` hastened to you," continued Beauchamp, "to tell you, Albert, `
` that in this changing age, the faults of a father cannot `
` revert upon his children. Few have passed through this `
` revolutionary period, in the midst of which we were born, `
` without some stain of infamy or blood to soil the uniform of `
` the soldier, or the gown of the magistrate. Now I have these `
` proofs, Albert, and I am in your confidence, no human power `
` can force me to a duel which your own conscience would `
` reproach you with as criminal, but I come to offer you what `
` you can no longer demand of me. Do you wish these proofs, `
` these attestations, which I alone possess, to be destroyed? `
` Do you wish this frightful secret to remain with us? `
` Confided to me, it shall never escape my lips; say, Albert, `
` my friend, do you wish it?" `
` `
` Albert threw himself on Beauchamp's neck. "Ah, noble `
` fellow!" cried he. `
` `
` "Take these," said Beauchamp, presenting the papers to `
` Albert. `
` `
` Albert seized them with a convulsive hand, tore them in `
` pieces, and trembling lest the least vestige should escape `
` and one day appear to confront him, he approached the `
` wax-light, always kept burning for cigars, and burned every `
` fragment. "Dear, excellent friend," murmured Albert, still `
` burning the papers. `
` `
` "Let all be forgotten as a sorrowful dream," said Beauchamp; `
` "let it vanish as the last sparks from the blackened paper, `
` and disappear as the smoke from those silent ashes." `
` `
` "Yes, yes," said Albert, "and may there remain only the `
` eternal friendship which I promised to my deliverer, which `
` shall be transmitted to our children's children, and shall `
` always remind me that I owe my life and the honor of my name `
` to you, -- for had this been known, oh, Beauchamp, I should `
` have destroyed myself; or, -- no, my poor mother! I could `
` not have killed her by the same blow, -- I should have fled `
` from my country." `
` `
` "Dear Albert," said Beauchamp. But this sudden and `
` factitious joy soon forsook the young man, and was succeeded `
` by a still greater grief. `
` `
` "Well," said Beauchamp, "what still oppresses you, my `
` friend?" `
` `
` "I am broken-hearted," said Albert. "Listen, Beauchamp! I `
` cannot thus, in a moment relinquish the respect, the `
` confidence, and pride with which a father's untarnished name `
` inspires a son. Oh, Beauchamp, Beauchamp, how shall I now `
` approach mine? Shall I draw back my forehead from his `
` embrace, or withhold my hand from his? I am the most `
` wretched of men. Ah, my mother, my poor mother!" said `
` Albert, gazing through his tears at his mother's portrait; `
` "if you know this, how much must you suffer!" `
` `
` "Come," said Beauchamp, taking both his hands, "take `
` courage, my friend." `
` `
` "But how came that first note to be inserted in your `
` journal? Some unknown enemy -- an invisible foe -- has done `
` this." `
` `
` "The more must you fortify yourself, Albert. Let no trace of `
` emotion be visible on your countenance, bear your grief as `
` the cloud bears within it ruin and death -- a fatal secret, `
` known only when the storm bursts. Go, my friend, reserve `
` your strength for the moment when the crash shall come." `
` `
` "You think, then, all is not over yet?" said Albert, `
` horror-stricken. `
` `
` "I think nothing, my friend; but all things are possible. By `
` the way" -- `
` `
` "What?" said Albert, seeing that Beauchamp hesitated. `
` `
` "Are you going to marry Mademoiselle Danglars?" `
` `
` "Why do you ask me now?" `
` `
` "Because the rupture or fulfilment of this engagement is `
` connected with the person of whom we were speaking." `
` `
` "How?" said Albert, whose brow reddened; "you think M. `
` Danglars" -- `
` `
` "I ask you only how your engagement stands? Pray put no `
` construction on my words I do not mean they should convey, `
` and give them no undue weight." `
` `
` "No." said Albert, "the engagement is broken off." `
` `
` "Well," said Beauchamp. Then, seeing the young man was about `
` to relapse into melancholy, "Let us go out, Albert," said `
` he; "a ride in the wood in the phaeton, or on horseback, `
` will refresh you; we will then return to breakfast, and you `
` shall attend to your affairs, and I to mine." `
` `
` "Willingly," said Albert; "but let us walk. I think a little `
` exertion would do me good." The two friends walked out on `
` the fortress. When arrived at the Madeleine, -- "Since we `
` are out," said Beauchamp, "let us call on M. de Monte `
` Cristo; he is admirably adapted to revive one's spirits, `
` because he never interrogates, and in my opinion those who `
` ask no questions are the best comforters." `
` `
` "Gladly," said Albert; "I love him -- let us call." `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 85 `
` The Journey. `
` `
` Monte Cristo uttered a joyful exclamation on seeing the `
` young men together. "Ah, ha!" said he, "I hope all is over, `
` explained and settled." `
` `
` "Yes," said Beauchamp; "the absurd reports have died away, `
` and should they be renewed, I would be the first to oppose `
` them; so let us speak no more of it." `
` `
` "Albert will tell you," replied the count "that I gave him `
` the same advice. Look," added he. "I am finishing the most `
` execrable morning's work." `
` `
` "What is it?" said Albert; "arranging your papers, `
` apparently." `
` `
` "My papers, thank God, no, -- my papers are all in capital `
` order, because I have none; but M. Cavalcanti's." `
` `
` "M. Cavalcanti's?" asked Beauchamp. `
` `
` "Yes; do you not know that this is a young man whom the `
` count is introducing?" said Morcerf. `
` `
` "Let us not misunderstand each other," replied Monte Cristo; `
` "I introduce no one, and certainly not M. Cavalcanti." `
` `
`