Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.1-10
She loved Villefort, and he left her at the moment he was `
` about to become her husband. Villefort knew not when he `
` should return, and Renee, far from pleading for Dantes, `
` hated the man whose crime separated her from her lover. `
` `
` Meanwhile what of Mercedes? She had met Fernand at the `
` corner of the Rue de la Loge; she had returned to the `
` Catalans, and had despairingly cast herself on her couch. `
` Fernand, kneeling by her side, took her hand, and covered it `
` with kisses that Mercedes did not even feel. She passed the `
` night thus. The lamp went out for want of oil, but she paid `
` no heed to the darkness, and dawn came, but she knew not `
` that it was day. Grief had made her blind to all but one `
` object -- that was Edmond. `
` `
` "Ah, you are there," said she, at length, turning towards `
` Fernand. `
` `
` "I have not quitted you since yesterday," returned Fernand `
` sorrowfully. `
` `
` M. Morrel had not readily given up the fight. He had learned `
` that Dantes had been taken to prison, and he had gone to all `
` his friends, and the influential persons of the city; but `
` the report was already in circulation that Dantes was `
` arrested as a Bonapartist agent; and as the most sanguine `
` looked upon any attempt of Napoleon to remount the throne as `
` impossible, he met with nothing but refusal, and had `
` returned home in despair, declaring that the matter was `
` serious and that nothing more could be done. `
` `
` Caderousse was equally restless and uneasy, but instead of `
` seeking, like M. Morrel, to aid Dantes, he had shut himself `
` up with two bottles of black currant brandy, in the hope of `
` drowning reflection. But he did not succeed, and became too `
` intoxicated to fetch any more drink, and yet not so `
` intoxicated as to forget what had happened. With his elbows `
` on the table he sat between the two empty bottles, while `
` spectres danced in the light of the unsnuffed candle -- `
` spectres such as Hoffmann strews over his punch-drenched `
` pages, like black, fantastic dust. `
` `
` Danglars alone was content and joyous -- he had got rid of `
` an enemy and made his own situation on the Pharaon secure. `
` Danglars was one of those men born with a pen behind the `
` ear, and an inkstand in place of a heart. Everything with `
` him was multiplication or subtraction. The life of a man was `
` to him of far less value than a numeral, especially when, by `
` taking it away, he could increase the sum total of his own `
` desires. He went to bed at his usual hour, and slept in `
` peace. `
` `
` Villefort, after having received M. de Salvieux' letter, `
` embraced Renee, kissed the marquise's hand, and shaken that `
` of the marquis, started for Paris along the Aix road. `
` `
` Old Dantes was dying with anxiety to know what had become of `
` Edmond. But we know very well what had become of Edmond. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 10 `
` The King's Closet at the Tuileries. `
` `
` We will leave Villefort on the road to Paris, travelling -- `
` thanks to trebled fees -- with all speed, and passing `
` through two or three apartments, enter at the Tuileries the `
` little room with the arched window, so well known as having `
` been the favorite closet of Napoleon and Louis XVIII., and `
` now of Louis Philippe. `
` `
` There, seated before a walnut table he had brought with him `
` from Hartwell, and to which, from one of those fancies not `
` uncommon to great people, he was particularly attached, the `
` king, Louis XVIII., was carelessly listening to a man of `
` fifty or fifty-two years of age, with gray hair, `
` aristocratic bearing, and exceedingly gentlemanly attire, `
` and meanwhile making a marginal note in a volume of `
` Gryphius's rather inaccurate, but much sought-after, edition `
` of Horace -- a work which was much indebted to the sagacious `
` observations of the philosophical monarch. `
` `
` "You say, sir" -- said the king. `
` `
` "That I am exceedingly disquieted, sire." `
` `
` "Really, have you had a vision of the seven fat kine and the `
` seven lean kine?" `
` `
` "No, sire, for that would only betoken for us seven years of `
` plenty and seven years of scarcity; and with a king as full `
` of foresight as your majesty, scarcity is not a thing to be `
` feared." `
` `
` "Then of what other scourge are you afraid, my dear Blacas?" `
` `
` "Sire, I have every reason to believe that a storm is `
` brewing in the south." `
` `
` "Well, my dear duke," replied Louis XVIII., "I think you are `
` wrongly informed, and know positively that, on the contrary, `
` it is very fine weather in that direction." Man of ability `
` as he was, Louis XVIII. liked a pleasant jest. `
` `
` "Sire," continued M. de Blacas, "if it only be to reassure a `
` faithful servant, will your majesty send into Languedoc, `
` Provence, and Dauphine, trusty men, who will bring you back `
` a faithful report as to the feeling in these three `
` provinces?" `
` `
` "Caninus surdis," replied the king, continuing the `
` annotations in his Horace. `
` `
` "Sire," replied the courtier, laughing, in order that he `
` might seem to comprehend the quotation, "your majesty may be `
` perfectly right in relying on the good feeling of France, `
` but I fear I am not altogether wrong in dreading some `
` desperate attempt." `
` `
` "By whom?" `
` `
` "By Bonaparte, or, at least, by his adherents." `
` `
` "My dear Blacas," said the king, "you with your alarms `
` prevent me from working." `
` `
` "And you, sire, prevent me from sleeping with your `
` security." `
` `
` "Wait, my dear sir, wait a moment; for I have such a `
` delightful note on the Pastor quum traheret -- wait, and I `
` will listen to you afterwards." `
` `
` There was a brief pause, during which Louis XVIII. wrote, in `
` a hand as small as possible, another note on the margin of `
` his Horace, and then looking at the duke with the air of a `
` man who thinks he has an idea of his own, while he is only `
` commenting upon the idea of another, said, -- `
` `
` "Go on, my dear duke, go on -- I listen." `
` `
` "Sire," said Blacas, who had for a moment the hope of `
` sacrificing Villefort to his own profit, "I am compelled to `
` tell you that these are not mere rumors destitute of `
` foundation which thus disquiet me; but a serious-minded man, `
` deserving all my confidence, and charged by me to watch over `
` the south" (the duke hesitated as he pronounced these `
` words), "has arrived by post to tell me that a great peril `
` threatens the king, and so I hastened to you, sire." `
` `
` "Mala ducis avi domum," continued Louis XVIII., still `
` annotating. `
` `
` "Does your majesty wish me to drop the subject?" `
` `
` "By no means, my dear duke; but just stretch out your hand." `
` `
` "Which?" `
` `
` "Whichever you please -- there to the left." `
` `
` "Here, sire?" `
` `
` "I tell you to the left, and you are looking to the right; I `
` mean on my left -- yes, there. You will find yesterday's `
` report of the minister of police. But here is M. Dandre `
` himself;" and M. Dandre, announced by the `
` chamberlain-in-waiting, entered. `
` `
` "Come in," said Louis XVIII., with repressed smile, "come `
` in, Baron, and tell the duke all you know -- the latest news `
` of M. de Bonaparte; do not conceal anything, however `
` serious, -- let us see, the Island of Elba is a volcano, and `
` we may expect to have issuing thence flaming and bristling `
` war -- bella, horrida bella." M. Dandre leaned very `
` respectfully on the back of a chair with his two hands, and `
` said, -- `
` `
` "Has your majesty perused yesterday's report?" `
` `
` "Yes, yes; but tell the duke himself, who cannot find `
` anything, what the report contains -- give him the `
` particulars of what the usurper is doing in his islet." `
` `
` "Monsieur," said the baron to the duke, "all the servants of `
` his majesty must approve of the latest intelligence which we `
` have from the Island of Elba. Bonaparte" -- M. Dandre looked `
` at Louis XVIII., who, employed in writing a note, did not `
` even raise his head. "Bonaparte," continued the baron, "is `
` mortally wearied, and passes whole days in watching his `
` miners at work at Porto-Longone." `
` `
` "And scratches himself for amusement," added the king. `
` `
` "Scratches himself?" inquired the duke, "what does your `
` majesty mean?" `
` `
` "Yes, indeed, my dear duke. Did you forget that this great `
` man, this hero, this demigod, is attacked with a malady of `
` the skin which worries him to death, prurigo?" `
` `
`
` about to become her husband. Villefort knew not when he `
` should return, and Renee, far from pleading for Dantes, `
` hated the man whose crime separated her from her lover. `
` `
` Meanwhile what of Mercedes? She had met Fernand at the `
` corner of the Rue de la Loge; she had returned to the `
` Catalans, and had despairingly cast herself on her couch. `
` Fernand, kneeling by her side, took her hand, and covered it `
` with kisses that Mercedes did not even feel. She passed the `
` night thus. The lamp went out for want of oil, but she paid `
` no heed to the darkness, and dawn came, but she knew not `
` that it was day. Grief had made her blind to all but one `
` object -- that was Edmond. `
` `
` "Ah, you are there," said she, at length, turning towards `
` Fernand. `
` `
` "I have not quitted you since yesterday," returned Fernand `
` sorrowfully. `
` `
` M. Morrel had not readily given up the fight. He had learned `
` that Dantes had been taken to prison, and he had gone to all `
` his friends, and the influential persons of the city; but `
` the report was already in circulation that Dantes was `
` arrested as a Bonapartist agent; and as the most sanguine `
` looked upon any attempt of Napoleon to remount the throne as `
` impossible, he met with nothing but refusal, and had `
` returned home in despair, declaring that the matter was `
` serious and that nothing more could be done. `
` `
` Caderousse was equally restless and uneasy, but instead of `
` seeking, like M. Morrel, to aid Dantes, he had shut himself `
` up with two bottles of black currant brandy, in the hope of `
` drowning reflection. But he did not succeed, and became too `
` intoxicated to fetch any more drink, and yet not so `
` intoxicated as to forget what had happened. With his elbows `
` on the table he sat between the two empty bottles, while `
` spectres danced in the light of the unsnuffed candle -- `
` spectres such as Hoffmann strews over his punch-drenched `
` pages, like black, fantastic dust. `
` `
` Danglars alone was content and joyous -- he had got rid of `
` an enemy and made his own situation on the Pharaon secure. `
` Danglars was one of those men born with a pen behind the `
` ear, and an inkstand in place of a heart. Everything with `
` him was multiplication or subtraction. The life of a man was `
` to him of far less value than a numeral, especially when, by `
` taking it away, he could increase the sum total of his own `
` desires. He went to bed at his usual hour, and slept in `
` peace. `
` `
` Villefort, after having received M. de Salvieux' letter, `
` embraced Renee, kissed the marquise's hand, and shaken that `
` of the marquis, started for Paris along the Aix road. `
` `
` Old Dantes was dying with anxiety to know what had become of `
` Edmond. But we know very well what had become of Edmond. `
` `
` `
` `
` Chapter 10 `
` The King's Closet at the Tuileries. `
` `
` We will leave Villefort on the road to Paris, travelling -- `
` thanks to trebled fees -- with all speed, and passing `
` through two or three apartments, enter at the Tuileries the `
` little room with the arched window, so well known as having `
` been the favorite closet of Napoleon and Louis XVIII., and `
` now of Louis Philippe. `
` `
` There, seated before a walnut table he had brought with him `
` from Hartwell, and to which, from one of those fancies not `
` uncommon to great people, he was particularly attached, the `
` king, Louis XVIII., was carelessly listening to a man of `
` fifty or fifty-two years of age, with gray hair, `
` aristocratic bearing, and exceedingly gentlemanly attire, `
` and meanwhile making a marginal note in a volume of `
` Gryphius's rather inaccurate, but much sought-after, edition `
` of Horace -- a work which was much indebted to the sagacious `
` observations of the philosophical monarch. `
` `
` "You say, sir" -- said the king. `
` `
` "That I am exceedingly disquieted, sire." `
` `
` "Really, have you had a vision of the seven fat kine and the `
` seven lean kine?" `
` `
` "No, sire, for that would only betoken for us seven years of `
` plenty and seven years of scarcity; and with a king as full `
` of foresight as your majesty, scarcity is not a thing to be `
` feared." `
` `
` "Then of what other scourge are you afraid, my dear Blacas?" `
` `
` "Sire, I have every reason to believe that a storm is `
` brewing in the south." `
` `
` "Well, my dear duke," replied Louis XVIII., "I think you are `
` wrongly informed, and know positively that, on the contrary, `
` it is very fine weather in that direction." Man of ability `
` as he was, Louis XVIII. liked a pleasant jest. `
` `
` "Sire," continued M. de Blacas, "if it only be to reassure a `
` faithful servant, will your majesty send into Languedoc, `
` Provence, and Dauphine, trusty men, who will bring you back `
` a faithful report as to the feeling in these three `
` provinces?" `
` `
` "Caninus surdis," replied the king, continuing the `
` annotations in his Horace. `
` `
` "Sire," replied the courtier, laughing, in order that he `
` might seem to comprehend the quotation, "your majesty may be `
` perfectly right in relying on the good feeling of France, `
` but I fear I am not altogether wrong in dreading some `
` desperate attempt." `
` `
` "By whom?" `
` `
` "By Bonaparte, or, at least, by his adherents." `
` `
` "My dear Blacas," said the king, "you with your alarms `
` prevent me from working." `
` `
` "And you, sire, prevent me from sleeping with your `
` security." `
` `
` "Wait, my dear sir, wait a moment; for I have such a `
` delightful note on the Pastor quum traheret -- wait, and I `
` will listen to you afterwards." `
` `
` There was a brief pause, during which Louis XVIII. wrote, in `
` a hand as small as possible, another note on the margin of `
` his Horace, and then looking at the duke with the air of a `
` man who thinks he has an idea of his own, while he is only `
` commenting upon the idea of another, said, -- `
` `
` "Go on, my dear duke, go on -- I listen." `
` `
` "Sire," said Blacas, who had for a moment the hope of `
` sacrificing Villefort to his own profit, "I am compelled to `
` tell you that these are not mere rumors destitute of `
` foundation which thus disquiet me; but a serious-minded man, `
` deserving all my confidence, and charged by me to watch over `
` the south" (the duke hesitated as he pronounced these `
` words), "has arrived by post to tell me that a great peril `
` threatens the king, and so I hastened to you, sire." `
` `
` "Mala ducis avi domum," continued Louis XVIII., still `
` annotating. `
` `
` "Does your majesty wish me to drop the subject?" `
` `
` "By no means, my dear duke; but just stretch out your hand." `
` `
` "Which?" `
` `
` "Whichever you please -- there to the left." `
` `
` "Here, sire?" `
` `
` "I tell you to the left, and you are looking to the right; I `
` mean on my left -- yes, there. You will find yesterday's `
` report of the minister of police. But here is M. Dandre `
` himself;" and M. Dandre, announced by the `
` chamberlain-in-waiting, entered. `
` `
` "Come in," said Louis XVIII., with repressed smile, "come `
` in, Baron, and tell the duke all you know -- the latest news `
` of M. de Bonaparte; do not conceal anything, however `
` serious, -- let us see, the Island of Elba is a volcano, and `
` we may expect to have issuing thence flaming and bristling `
` war -- bella, horrida bella." M. Dandre leaned very `
` respectfully on the back of a chair with his two hands, and `
` said, -- `
` `
` "Has your majesty perused yesterday's report?" `
` `
` "Yes, yes; but tell the duke himself, who cannot find `
` anything, what the report contains -- give him the `
` particulars of what the usurper is doing in his islet." `
` `
` "Monsieur," said the baron to the duke, "all the servants of `
` his majesty must approve of the latest intelligence which we `
` have from the Island of Elba. Bonaparte" -- M. Dandre looked `
` at Louis XVIII., who, employed in writing a note, did not `
` even raise his head. "Bonaparte," continued the baron, "is `
` mortally wearied, and passes whole days in watching his `
` miners at work at Porto-Longone." `
` `
` "And scratches himself for amusement," added the king. `
` `
` "Scratches himself?" inquired the duke, "what does your `
` majesty mean?" `
` `
` "Yes, indeed, my dear duke. Did you forget that this great `
` man, this hero, this demigod, is attacked with a malady of `
` the skin which worries him to death, prurigo?" `
` `
`