The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas
Chapter 70. The Ball
It was in the warmest days of July, when in due course of time theSaturday arrived upon which the ball was to take place at M. deMorcerf’s. It was ten o’clock at night; the branches of the great treesin the garden of the count’s house stood out boldly against the azurecanopy of heaven, which was studded with golden stars, but where thelast fleeting clouds of a vanishing storm yet lingered.
From the apartments on the ground floor might be heard the sound ofmusic, with the whirl of the waltz and galop, while brilliant streams oflight shone through the openings of the Venetian blinds. At this momentthe garden was only occupied by about ten servants, who had justreceived orders from their mistress to prepare the supper, the serenityof the weather continuing to increase. Until now, it had been undecidedwhether the supper should take place in the dining-room, or under a longtent erected on the lawn, but the beautiful blue sky, studded withstars, had settled the question in favor of the lawn.
The gardens were illuminated with colored lanterns, according to theItalian custom, and, as is usual in countries where the luxuries of thetable—the rarest of all luxuries in their complete form—are wellunderstood, the supper-table was loaded with wax-lights and flowers.
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At the time the Countess of Morcerf returned to the rooms, after givingher orders, many guests were arriving, more attracted by the charminghospitality of the countess than by the distinguished position of thecount; for, owing to the good taste of Mercédès, one was sure of findingsome devices at her entertainment worthy of describing, or even copyingin case of need.
Madame Danglars, in whom the events we have related had caused deepanxiety, had hesitated about going to Madame de Morcerf’s, when duringthe morning her carriage happened to meet that of Villefort. The lattermade a sign, and when the carriages had drawn close together, said:
“You are going to Madame de Morcerf’s, are you not?”
“No,” replied Madame Danglars, “I am too ill.”
“You are wrong,” replied Villefort, significantly; “it is important thatyou should be seen there.”
“Do you think so?” asked the baroness.
“I do.”
“In that case I will go.”
And the two carriages passed on towards their different destinations.Madame Danglars therefore came, not only beautiful in person, butradiant with splendor; she entered by one door at the time when Mercédèsappeared at the door. The countess took Albert to meet Madame Danglars.He approached, paid her some well merited compliments on her toilet, andoffered his arm to conduct her to a seat. Albert looked around him.
“You are looking for my daughter?” said the baroness, smiling.
“I confess it,” replied Albert. “Could you have been so cruel as not tobring her?”
“Calm yourself. She has met Mademoiselle de Villefort, and has taken herarm; see, they are following us, both in white dresses, one with abouquet of camellias, the other with one of myosotis. But tell me——”
“Well, what do you wish to know?”
“Will not the Count of Monte Cristo be here tonight?”
“Seventeen!” replied Albert.
“What do you mean?”
“I only mean that the count seems the rage,” replied the viscount,smiling, “and that you are the seventeenth person that has asked me thesame question. The count is in fashion; I congratulate him upon it.”
“And have you replied to everyone as you have to me?”
“Ah, to be sure, I have not answered you; be satisfied, we shall havethis ‘lion’; we are among the privileged ones.”
“Were you at the Opera yesterday?”
“No.”
“He was there.”
“Ah, indeed? And did the eccentric person commit any new originality?”
“Can he be seen without doing so? Elssler was dancing in Le Diableboiteux; the Greek princess was in ecstasies. After the cachucha heplaced a magnificent ring on the stem of a bouquet, and threw it to thecharming danseuse, who, in the third act, to do honor to the gift,reappeared with it on her finger. And the Greek princess,—will she behere?”
“No, you will be deprived of that pleasure; her position in the count’sestablishment is not sufficiently understood.”
“Wait; leave me here, and go and speak to Madame de Villefort, who istrying to attract your attention.”
Albert bowed to Madame Danglars, and advanced towards Madame deVillefort, whose lips opened as he approached.
“I wager anything,” said Albert, interrupting her, “that I know what youwere about to say.”
“Well, what is it?”
“If I guess rightly, will you confess it?”
“Yes.”
“On your honor?”
“On my honor.”
“You were going to ask me if the Count of Monte Cristo had arrived, orwas expected.”
“Not at all. It is not of him that I am now thinking. I was going to askyou if you had received any news of Monsieur Franz.”
“Yes,—yesterday.”
“What did he tell you?”
“That he was leaving at the same time as his letter.”
“Well, now then, the count?”
“The count will come, of that you may be satisfied.”
“You know that he has another name besides Monte Cristo?”
“No, I did not know it.”
“Monte Cristo is the name of an island, and he has a family name.”
“I never heard it.”
“Well, then, I am better informed than you; his name is Zaccone.”
“It is possible.”
“He is a Maltese.”
“That is also possible.
“The son of a shipowner.”
“Really, you should relate all this aloud, you would have the greatestsuccess.”
“He served in India, discovered a mine in Thessaly, and comes to Paristo establish a mineral water-cure at Auteuil.”
“Well, I’m sure,” said Morcerf, “this is indeed news! Am I allowed torepeat it?”
“Yes, but cautiously, tell one thing at a time, and do not say I toldyou.”
“Why so?”
“Because it is a secret just discovered.”
“By whom?”
“The police.”
“Then the news originated——”
“At the prefect’s last night. Paris, you can understand, is astonishedat the sight of such unusual splendor, and the police have madeinquiries.”
“Well, well! Nothing more is wanting than to arrest the count as avagabond, on the pretext of his being too rich.”
“Indeed, that doubtless would have happened if his credentials had notbeen so favorable.”
“Poor count! And is he aware of the danger he has been in?”
“I think not.”
“Then it will be but charitable to inform him. When he arrives, I willnot fail to do so.”
Just then, a handsome young man, with bright eyes, black hair, andglossy moustache, respectfully bowed to Madame de Villefort. Albertextended his hand.
“Madame,” said Albert, “allow me to present to you M. Maximilian Morrel,captain of Spahis, one of our best, and, above all, of our bravestofficers.”
“I have already had the pleasure of meeting this gentleman at Auteuil,at the house of the Count of Monte Cristo,” replied Madame de Villefort,turning away with marked coldness of manner.
This answer, and especially the tone in which it was uttered, chilledthe heart of poor Morrel. But a recompense was in store for him; turningaround, he saw near the door a beautiful fair face, whose large blueeyes were, without any marked expression, fixed upon him, while thebouquet of myosotis was gently raised to her lips.
The salutation was so well understood that Morrel, with the sameexpression in his eyes, placed his handkerchief to his mouth; and thesetwo living statues, whose hearts beat so violently under their marbleaspect, separated from each other by the whole length of the room,forgot
We have already said that there was something in the count whichattracted universal attention wherever he appeared. It was not the coat,unexceptional in its cut, though simple and unornamented; it was not theplain white waistcoat; it was not the trousers, that displayed the footso perfectly formed—it was none of these things that attracted theattention,—it was his pale complexion, his waving black hair, his calmand serene expression, his dark and melancholy eye, his mouth, chiselledwith such marvellous delicacy, which so easily expressed such highdisdain,—these were what fixed the attention of all upon him.
Many men might have been handsomer, but certainly there could be nonewhose appearance was more significant, if the expression may be used.Everything about the count seemed to have its meaning, for the constanthabit of thought which he had acquired had given an ease and vigor tothe expression of his face, and even to the most trifling gesture,scarcely to be understood. Yet the Parisian world is so strange, thateven all this might not have won attention had there not been connectedwith it a mysterious story gilded by an immense fortune.
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Meanwhile he advanced through the assemblage of guests under a batteryof curious glances towards Madame de Morcerf, who, standing before amantle-piece ornamented with flowers, had seen his entrance in alooking-glass placed opposite the door, and was prepared to receive him.She turned towards him with a serene smile just at the moment he wasbowing to her. No doubt she fancied the count would speak to her, whileon his side the count thought she was about to address him; but bothremained silent, and after a mere bow, Monte Cristo directed his stepsto Albert, who received him cordially.
“Have you seen my mother?” asked Albert.
“I have just had the pleasure,” replied the count; “but I have not seenyour father.”
“See, he is down there, talking politics with that little group of greatgeniuses.”
“Indeed?” said Monte Cristo; “and so those gentlemen down there are menof great talent. I should not have guessed it. And for what kind oftalent are they celebrated? You know there are different sorts.”
“That tall, harsh-looking man is very learned, he discovered, in theneighborhood of Rome, a kind of lizard with a vertebra more than lizardsusually have, and he immediately laid his discovery before theInstitute. The thing was discussed for a long time, but finally decidedin his favor. I can assure you the vertebra made a great noise in thelearned world, and the gentleman, who was only a knight of the Legion ofHonor, was made an officer.”
“Come,” said Monte Cristo, “this cross seems to me to be wisely awarded.I suppose, had he found another additional vertebra, they would havemade him a commander.”
“Very likely,” said Albert.
“And who can that person be who has taken it into his head to wraphimself up in a blue coat embroidered with green?”
“Oh, that coat is not his own idea; it is the Republic’s, which deputedDavid12 to devise a uniform for the Academicians.”
“Indeed?” said Monte Cristo; “so this gentleman is an Academician?”
“Within the last week he has been made one of the learned assembly.”
“And what is his especial talent?”
“His talent? I believe he thrusts pins through the heads of rabbits, hemakes fowls eat madder, and punches the spinal marrow out of dogs withwhalebone.”
“And he is made a member of the Academy of Sciences for this?”
“No; of the French Academy.”
“But what has the French Academy to do with all this?”
“I was going to tell you. It seems——”
“That his experiments have very considerably advanced the cause ofscience, doubtless?”
“No; that his style of writing is very good.”
“This must be very flattering to the feelings of the rabbits into whoseheads he has thrust pins, to the fowls whose bones he has dyed red, andto the dogs whose spinal marrow he has punched out?”
Albert laughed.
“And the other one?” demanded the count.
“That one?”
“Yes, the third.”
“The one in the dark blue coat?”
“Yes.”
“He is a colleague of the count, and one of the most active opponents tothe idea of providing the Chamber of Peers with a uniform. He was verysuccessful upon that question. He stood badly with the Liberal papers,but his noble opposition to the wishes of the court is now getting himinto favor with the journalists. They talk of making him an ambassador.”
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“And what are his claims to the peerage?”
“He has composed two or three comic operas, written four or fivearticles in the Siècle, and voted five or six years on the ministerialside.”
“Bravo, viscount,” said Monte Cristo, smiling; “you are a delightfulcicerone. And now you will do me a favor, will you not?”
“What is it?”
“Do not introduce me to any of these gentlemen; and should they wish it,you will warn me.” Just then the count felt his arm pressed. He turnedround; it was Danglars.
“Ah! is it you, baron?” said he.
“Why do you call me baron?” said Danglars; “you know that I care nothingfor my title. I am not like you, viscount; you like your title, do younot?”
“Certainly,” replied Albert, “seeing that without my title I should benothing; while you, sacrificing the baron, would still remain themillionaire.”
“Which seems to me the finest title under the royalty of July,” repliedDanglars.
“Unfortunately,” said Monte Cristo, “one’s title to a millionaire doesnot last for life, like that of baron, peer of France, or academician;for example, the millionaires Franck & Poulmann, of Frankfurt, who havejust become bankrupts.”
“Indeed?” said Danglars, becoming pale.
“Yes; I received the news this evening by a courier. I had about amillion in their hands, but, warned in time, I withdrew it a month ago.”
“Ah, mon Dieu!” exclaimed Danglars, “they have drawn on me for 200,000francs!”
“Well, you can throw out the draft; their signature is worth five percent.”
“Yes, but it is too late,” said Danglars, “I have honored their bills.”
“Then,” said Monte Cristo, “here are 200,000 francs gone after——”
“Hush, do not mention these things,” said Danglars; then, approachingMonte Cristo, he added, “especially before young M. Cavalcanti;” afterwhich he smiled, and turned towards the young man in question.
Albert had left the count to speak to his mother, Danglars to conversewith young Cavalcanti; Monte Cristo was for an instant alone. Meanwhilethe heat became excessive. The footmen were hastening through the roomswith waiters loaded with ices. Monte Cristo wiped the perspiration fromhis forehead, but drew back when the waiter was presented to him; hetook no refreshment. Madame de Morcerf did not lose sight of MonteCristo; she saw that he took nothing, and even noticed his gesture ofrefusal.
“Albert,” she asked, “did you notice that?”
“What, mother?”
“That the count has never been willing to partake of food under the roofof M. de Morcerf.”
“Yes; but then he breakfasted with me—indeed, he made his firstappearance in the world on that occasion.”
“But your house is not M. de Morcerf’s,” murmured Mercédès; “and sincehe has been here I have watched him.”
“Well?”
“Well, he has taken nothing yet.”
“The count is very temperate.”
Mercédès smiled sadly.
“Approach him,” said she, “and when the next waiter passes, insist uponhis taking something.”
“But why, mother?”
“Just to please me, Albert,” said Mercédès. Albert
“Well,” said she, “you see he refuses?”
“Yes; but why need this annoy you?”
“You know, Albert, women are singular creatures. I should like to haveseen the count take something in my house, if only an ice. Perhaps hecannot reconcile himself to the French style of living, and might prefersomething else.”
“Oh, no; I have seen him eat of everything in Italy; no doubt he doesnot feel inclined this evening.”
“And besides,” said the countess, “accustomed as he is to burningclimates, possibly he does not feel the heat as we do.”
“I do not think that, for he has complained of feeling almostsuffocated, and asked why the Venetian blinds were not opened as well asthe windows.”
“In a word,” said Mercédès, “it was a way of assuring me that hisabstinence was intended.”
And she left the room.
A minute afterwards the blinds were thrown open, and through thejessamine and clematis that overhung the window one could see the gardenornamented with lanterns, and the supper laid under the tent. Dancers,players, talkers, all uttered an exclamation of joy—everyone inhaledwith delight the breeze that floated in. At the same time Mercédèsreappeared, paler than before, but with that imperturbable expression ofcountenance which she sometimes wore. She went straight to the group ofwhich her husband formed the centre.
“Do not detain those gentlemen here, count,” she said; “they wouldprefer, I should think, to breathe in the garden rather than suffocatehere, since they are not playing.”
“Ah,” said a gallant old general, who, in 1809, had sung Partant pour laSyrie,—“we will not go alone to the garden.”
“Then,” said Mercédès, “I will lead the way.”
Turning towards Monte Cristo, she added, “count, will you oblige me withyour arm?”
The count almost staggered at these simple words; then he fixed his eyeson Mercédès. It was only a momentary glance, but it seemed to thecountess to have lasted for a century, so much was expressed in that onelook. He offered his arm to the countess; she took it, or rather justtouched it with her little hand, and they together descended the steps,lined with rhododendrons and camellias. Behind them, by another outlet,a group of about twenty persons rushed into the garden with loudexclamations of delight.