“The one M. de Villefort is preparing against my amiable assassin—some brigand escaped from the gallows apparently.”
“True,” said Beauchamp; “I saw it in the paper. Who is this Caderousse?”
“Some Provençal, it appears. M. de Villefort heard of him at Marseilles, and M. Danglars recollects having seen him. Consequently, the procureur is very active in the affair, and the prefect of police very much interested; and, thanks to that interest, for which I am very grateful, they send me all the robbers of Paris and the neighborhood, under pretence of their being Caderousse’s murderers, so that in three months, if this continues, every robber and assassin in France will have the plan of my house at his fingers’ ends. I am resolved to desert them and go to some remote corner of the earth, and shall be happy if you will accompany me, viscount.”
“Willingly.”
“Then it is settled?”
“Yes, but where?”
“I have told you, where the air is pure, where every sound soothes, where one is sure to be humbled, however proud may be his nature. I love that humiliation, I, who am master of the universe, as was Augustus.”
“But where are you really going?”
“To sea, viscount; you know I am a sailor. I was rocked when an infant in the arms of old Ocean, and on the bosom of the beautiful Amphitrite; I have sported with the green mantle of the one and the azure robe of the other; I love the sea as a mistress, and pine if I do not often see her.”
“Let us go, count.”
“To sea?”
“Yes.”
“You accept my proposal?”
“I do.”
“Well, viscount, there will be in my courtyard this evening a good travelling britzka, with four post-horses, in which one may rest as in a bed. M. Beauchamp, it holds four very well, will you accompany us?”
“Thank you, I have just returned from sea.”
“What? you have been to sea?”
“Yes; I have just made a little excursion to the Borromean Islands18.”
“What of that? come with us,” said Albert.
“No, dear Morcerf; you know I only refuse when the thing is impossible. Besides, it is important,” added he in a low tone, “that I should remain in Paris just now to watch the paper.”
“Ah, you are a good and an excellent friend,” said Albert; “yes, you are right; watch, watch, Beauchamp, and try to discover the enemy who made this disclosure.”
Albert and Beauchamp parted, the last pressure of their hands expressing what their tongues could not before a stranger.
“Beauchamp is a worthy fellow,” said Monte Cristo, when the journalist was gone; “is he not, Albert?”
“Yes, and a sincere friend; I love him devotedly. But now we are alone,—although it is immaterial to me,—where are we going?”
“Into Normandy, if you like.”
“Delightful; shall we be quite retired? have no society, no neighbors?”
“Our companions will be riding-horses, dogs to hunt with, and a fishing-boat.”
“Exactly what I wish for; I will apprise my mother of my intention, and return to you.”
“But shall you be allowed to go into Normandy?”
“I may go where I please.”
“Yes, I am aware you may go alone, since I once met you in Italy—but to accompany the mysterious Monte Cristo?”
“You forget, count, that I have often told you of the deep interest my mother takes in you.”
“‘Woman is fickle.’ said Francis I.; ‘woman is like a wave of the sea,’ said Shakespeare; both the great king and the great poet ought to have known woman’s nature well.”
“Woman’s, yes; my mother is not woman, but a woman.”
“As I am only a humble foreigner, you must pardon me if I do not understand all the subtle refinements of your language.”
“What I mean to say is, that my mother is not quick to give her confidence, but when she does she never changes.”
“Ah, yes, indeed,” said Monte Cristo with a sigh; “and do you think she is in the least interested in me?”
“I repeat it, you must really be a very strange and superior man, for my mother is so absorbed by the interest you have excited, that when I am with her she speaks of no one else.”
“And does she try to make you dislike me?”
“On the contrary, she often says, ‘Morcerf, I believe the count has a noble nature; try to gain his esteem.’”
