The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas
Chapter 39. The Guests
In the house in the Rue du Helder, where Albert had invited the Count ofMonte Cristo, everything was being prepared on the morning of the 21stof May to do honor to the occasion. Albert de Morcerf inhabited apavilion situated at the corner of a large court, and directly oppositeanother building, in which were the servants’ apartments. Two windowsonly of the pavilion faced the street; three other windows looked intothe court, and two at the back into the garden.
Between the court and the garden, built in the heavy style of theimperial architecture, was the large and fashionable dwelling of theCount and Countess of Morcerf.
A high wall surrounded the whole of the property, surmounted atintervals by vases filled with flowers, and broken in the centre by alarge gate of gilded iron, which served as the carriage entrance. Asmall door, close to the lodge of the concierge, gave ingress and egressto the servants and masters when they were on foot.
It was easy to discover that the delicate care of a mother, unwilling topart from her son, and yet aware that a young man of the viscount’s agerequired the full exercise of his liberty, had chosen this habitationfor Albert. There were not lacking, however, evidences of what we maycall the intelligent egoism of a youth who is charmed with the indolent,careless life of an only son, and who lives as it were in a gilded cage.By means of the two windows looking into the street, Albert could seeall that passed; the sight of what is going on is necessary to youngmen, who always want to see the world traverse their horizon, even ifthat horizon is only a public thoroughfare. Then, should anything appearto merit a more minute examination, Albert de Morcerf could follow uphis researches by means of a small gate, similar to that close to theconcierge’s door, and which merits a particular description.
It was a little entrance that seemed never to have been opened since thehouse was built, so entirely was it covered with dust and dirt; but thewell-oiled hinges and locks told quite another story. This door was amockery to the concierge, from whose vigilance and jurisdiction it wasfree, and, like that famous portal in the Arabian Nights, opening at the“Sesame” of Ali Baba, it was wont to swing backward at a cabalistic wordor a concerted tap from without from the sweetest voices or whitestfingers in the world.
At the end of a long corridor, with which the door communicated, andwhich formed the antechamber, was, on the right, Albert’s breakfast-room, looking into the court, and on the left the salon, looking intothe garden. Shrubs and creeping plants covered the windows, and hid fromthe garden and court these two apartments, the only rooms into which, asthey were on the ground floor, the prying eyes of the curious couldpenetrate.
On the floor above were similar rooms, with the addition of a third,formed out of the antechamber; these three rooms were a salon, aboudoir, and a bedroom. The salon downstairs was only an Algerian divan,for the use of smokers. The boudoir upstairs communicated with thebedchamber by an invisible door on the staircase; it was evident thatevery precaution had been taken. Above this floor was a large atelier,which had been increased in size by pulling down the partitions—apandemonium, in which the artist and the dandy strove for pre-eminence.
There were collected and piled up all Albert’s successive caprices,hunting-horns, bass-viols, flutes—a whole orchestra, for Albert had hadnot a taste but a fancy for music; easels, palettes, brushes,pencils—for music had been succeeded by painting; foils, boxing-gloves,broadswords, and single-sticks—for, following the example of thefashionable young men of the time, Albert de Morcerf cultivated, withfar more perseverance than music and drawing, the three arts thatcomplete a dandy’s education, i.e., fencing, boxing, and single-stick;and it was here that he received Grisier, Cooks, and Charles Leboucher.
The rest of the furniture of this privileged apartment consisted of oldcabinets, filled with Chinese porcelain and Japanese vases, Lucca dellaRobbia faïences, and Palissy platters; of old armchairs, in whichperhaps had sat Henry IV. or Sully, Louis XIII. or Richelieu—for two ofthese armchairs, adorned with a carved shield, on which were engravedthe fleur-de-lis of France on an azure field, evidently came from theLouvre, or, at least, some royal residence.
Over these dark and sombre chairs were thrown splendid stuffs, dyedbeneath Persia’s sun, or woven by the fingers of the women of Calcuttaor of Chandernagor. What these stuffs did there, it was impossible tosay; they awaited, while gratifying the eyes, a destination unknown totheir owner himself; in the meantime they filled the place with theirgolden and silky reflections.
In the centre of the room was a Roller and Blanchet “baby grand” pianoin rosewood, but holding the potentialities of an orchestra in itsnarrow and sonorous cavity, and groaning beneath the weight of thechefs-d’œuvre of Beethoven, Weber, Mozart, Haydn, Grétry, and Porpora.
On the walls, over the doors, on the ceiling, were swords, daggers,Malay creeses, maces, battle-axes; gilded, damasked, and inlaid suits ofarmor; dried plants, minerals, and stuffed birds, their flame-coloredwings outspread in motionless flight, and their beaks forever open. Thiswas Albert’s favorite lounging place.
However, the morning of the appointment, the young man had establishedhimself in the small salon downstairs. There, on a table, surrounded atsome distance by a large and luxurious divan, every species of tobaccoknown,—from the yellow tobacco of Petersburg to the black of Sinai, andso on along the scale from Maryland and Porto Rico, to Latakia,—wasexposed in pots of crackled earthenware of which the Dutch are so fond;beside them, in boxes of fragrant wood, were ranged, according to theirsize and quality, puros, regalias, havanas, and manillas; and, in anopen cabinet, a collection of German pipes, of chibouques, with theiramber mouth-pieces ornamented with coral, and of narghiles, with theirlong tubes of morocco, awaiting the caprice or the sympathy of thesmokers.
Albert had himself presided at the arrangement, or, rather, thesymmetrical derangement, which, after coffee, the guests at a breakfastof modern days love to contemplate through the vapor that escapes fromtheir mouths, and ascends in long and fanciful wreaths to the ceiling.
At a quarter to ten, a valet entered; he composed, with a little groomnamed John, and who only spoke English, all Albert’s establishment,although the cook of the hotel was always at his service, and on greatoccasions the count’s chasseur also. This valet, whose name was Germain,and who enjoyed the entire confidence of his young master, held in onehand a number of papers, and in the other a packet of letters, which hegave to Albert. Albert glanced carelessly at the different missives,selected two written in a small and delicate hand, and enclosed inscented envelopes, opened them and perused their contents with someattention.
“How did these letters come?” said he.
“One by the post, Madame Danglars’ footman left the other.”
“Let Madame Danglars know that I accept the place she offers me in herbox. Wait; then, during the day, tell Rosa that when I leave the Opera Iwill sup with her as she wishes. Take her six bottles of differentwine—Cyprus, sherry, and Malaga, and a barrel of Ostend oysters; getthem at Borel’s, and be sure you say they are for me.”
“At what o’clock, sir, do you breakfast?”
20227m
“What time is it now?”
“A quarter to ten.”
“Very well, at half past ten. Debray will, perhaps, be obliged to go tothe minister—and besides” (Albert looked at his tablets), “it is thehour I told the count, 21st May, at half past ten; and though I do notmuch rely upon his promise, I wish to be punctual. Is the countess upyet?”
“If you wish, I will inquire.”
“Yes, ask her for one of her liqueur cellarets, mine is incomplete; andtell her I shall have the honor of seeing her about three o’clock, andthat I request permission to introduce someone to her.”
The valet left the room. Albert threw himself on the divan, tore off thecover of two or three of the papers, looked at the theatreannouncements, made a face seeing they gave an opera, and not a ballet;hunted vainly amongst the advertisements for a new tooth-powder of whic
“These papers become more and more stupid every day.”
A moment after, a carriage stopped before the door, and the servantannounced M. Lucien Debray. A tall young man, with light hair, cleargray eyes, and thin and compressed lips, dressed in a blue coat withbeautifully carved gold buttons, a white neckcloth, and a tortoiseshelleye-glass suspended by a silken thread, and which, by an effort of thesuperciliary and zygomatic muscles, he fixed in his eye, entered, with ahalf-official air, without smiling or speaking.
“Good-morning, Lucien, good-morning,” said Albert; “your punctualityreally alarms me. What do I say? punctuality! You, whom I expected last,you arrive at five minutes to ten, when the time fixed was half-past!Has the ministry resigned?”
“No, my dear fellow,” returned the young man, seating himself on thedivan; “reassure yourself; we are tottering always, but we never fall,and I begin to believe that we shall pass into a state of immobility,and then the affairs of the Peninsula will completely consolidate us.”
“Ah, true; you drive Don Carlos out of Spain.”
“No, no, my dear fellow, do not confound our plans. We take him to theother side of the French frontier, and offer him hospitality atBourges.”
“At Bourges?”
“Yes, he has not much to complain of; Bourges is the capital of CharlesVII. Do you not know that all Paris knew it yesterday, and the daybefore it had already transpired on the Bourse, and M. Danglars (I donot know by what means that man contrives to obtain intelligence as soonas we do) made a million!”
“And you another order, for I see you have a blue ribbon at your button-hole.”
“Yes; they sent me the order of Charles III.,” returned Debraycarelessly.
“Come, do not affect indifference, but confess you were pleased to haveit.”
“Oh, it is very well as a finish to the toilet. It looks very neat on ablack coat buttoned up.”
“And makes you resemble the Prince of Wales or the Duke of Reichstadt.”
“It is for that reason you see me so early.”
“Because you have the order of Charles III., and you wish to announcethe good news to me?”
“No, because I passed the night writing letters,—five-and-twentydespatches. I returned home at daybreak, and strove to sleep; but myhead ached and I got up to have a ride for an hour. At the Bois deBoulogne, ennui and hunger attacked me at once,—two enemies who rarelyaccompany each other, and who are yet leagued against me, a sort ofCarlo-republican alliance. I then recollected you gave a breakfast thismorning, and here I am. I am hungry, feed me; I am bored, amuse me.”
“It is my duty as your host,” returned Albert, ringing the bell, whileLucien turned over, with his gold-mounted cane, the papers that lay onthe table. “Germain, a glass of sherry and a biscuit. In the meantime,my dear Lucien, here are cigars—contraband, of course—try them, andpersuade the minister to sell us such instead of poisoning us withcabbage leaves.”
“Peste! I will do nothing of the kind; the moment they come fromgovernment you would find them execrable. Besides, that does not concernthe home but the financial department. Address yourself to M. Humann,section of the indirect contributions, corridor A., No. 26.”
“On my word,” said Albert, “you astonish me by the extent of yourknowledge. Take a cigar.”
“Really, my dear Albert,” replied Lucien, lighting a manilla at a rose-colored taper that burnt in a beautifully enamelled stand—“how happy youare to have nothing to do. You do not know your own good fortune!”
“And what would you do, my dear diplomatist,” replied Morcerf, with aslight degree of irony in his voice, “if you did nothing? What? privatesecretary to a minister, plunged at once into European cabals andParisian intrigues; having kings, and, better still, queens, to protect,parties to unite, elections to direct; making more use of your cabinetwith your pen and your telegraph than Napoleon did of his battle-fieldswith his sword and his victories; possessing five-and-twenty thousandfrancs a year, besides your place; a horse, for which Château-Renaudoffered you four hundred louis, and which you would not part with; atailor who never disappoints you; with the opera, the jockey-club, andother diversions, can you not amuse yourself? Well, I will amuse you.”
“How?”
“By introducing to you a new acquaintance.”
“A man or a woman?”
“A man.”
“I know so many men already.”
“But you do not know this man.”
“Where does he come from—the end of the world?”
“Farther still, perhaps.”
“The deuce! I hope he does not bring our breakfast with him.”
“Oh, no; our breakfast comes from my father’s kitchen. Are you hungry?”
“Humiliating as such a confession is, I am. But I dined at M. deVillefort’s, and lawyers always give you very bad dinners. You wouldthink they felt some remorse; did you ever remark that?”
“Ah, depreciate other persons’ dinners; you ministers give such splendidones.”
“Yes; but we do not invite people of fashion. If we were not forced toentertain a parcel of country boobies because they think and vote withus, we should never dream of dining at home, I assure you.”
“Well, take another glass of sherry and another biscuit.”
“Willingly. Your Spanish wine is excellent. You see we were quite rightto pacify that country.”
“Yes; but Don Carlos?”
“Well, Don Carlos will drink Bordeaux, and in ten years we will marryhis son to the little queen.”
“You will then obtain the Golden Fleece, if you are still in theministry.”
“I think, Albert, you have adopted the system of feeding me on smokethis morning.”
“Well, you must allow it is the best thing for the stomach; but I hearBeauchamp in the next room; you can dispute together, and that will passaway the time.”
“About what?”
“About the papers.”
“My dear friend,” said Lucien with an air of sovereign contempt, “do Iever read the papers?”
“Then you will dispute the more.”
“M. Beauchamp,” announced the servant. “Come in, come in,” said Albert,rising and advancing to meet the young man. “Here is Debray, who detestsyou without reading you, so he says.”
“He is quite right,” returned Beauchamp; “for I criticise him withoutknowing what he does. Good-day, commander!”
“Ah, you know that already,” said the private secretary, smiling andshaking hands with him.
“Pardieu!”
“And what do they say of it in the world?”
“In which world? we have so many worlds in the year of grace 1838.”
“In the entire political world, of which you are one of the leaders.”
“They say that it is quite fair, and that sowing so much red, you oughtto reap a little blue.”
“Come, come, that is not bad!” said Lucien. “Why do you not join ourparty, my dear Beauchamp? With your talents you would make your fortunein three or four years.”
“I only await one thing before following your advice; that is, aminister who will hold office for six months. My dear Albert, one word,for I must give poor Lucien a respite. Do we breakfast or dine? I mustgo to the Chamber, for our life is not an idle one.”
“You only breakfast; I await two persons, and the instant they arrive weshall sit down to table.”