The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (80 page)

‘My dear Vicomte,’ said Monte Cristo, ‘I can see not a single word in all that I have said or done to merit the supposed praise that I have just received from you and from these gentlemen. You were not a stranger to me: I knew you, for I had relinquished two rooms to you, I had given you lunch, I had lent you one of my carriages, we had watched the masks go past together in the Corso and we watched out of a window in the Piazza del Popolo that execution which had such a strong effect on you that you were almost taken ill by it. I appeal to all these gentlemen: could I leave my guest in the hands of those frightful bandits, as you call them? In any case, I had, as you know, a personal interest in saving you, which was to use you to introduce me into polite society in Paris when I came to France. At one time you may have considered that intention as merely a vague and fleeting project; but today, as you see, it is entirely real and you must submit, or else fail to keep your word.’

‘I shall keep it,’ said Morcerf. ‘But I am afraid that you will be very disappointed, my dear Count, accustomed as you are to
mountainous terrain, picturesque events and fabulous horizons. Here, you will encounter not the slightest excitement of the kind to which your adventurous life has accustomed you. Our Chimborazzo is Montmartre, our Himalayas, the Mont Valérien, and our Great Desert, the Plaine de Grenelle: indeed, they are digging an artesian well there, for the caravans to have water. We do have thieves, quite a few as it happens, though not as many as people say; but these thieves fear the meanest copper’s nark infinitely more than they do the greatest peer of the realm. Finally, France is such a prosaic country and Paris such a highly civilized city that in all our eighty-five
départements
¹
– I say eighty-five, because of course I do not count Corsica as a part of France – in all our eighty-five
départements
you will not find the smallest mountain without its telegraph or a single cave with the least blackness inside it, in which some police commissioner has not put a gaslight. So, my dear Count, there is only one service that I can perform for you, and I am entirely at your disposal: it goes without saying that I shall introduce you everywhere, or have you introduced by my friends. In any case, you have no need of that: your name, your fortune and your wit’ (Monte Cristo bowed with a faintly ironic smile) ‘will mean that you can present yourself anywhere with no further introduction, and be well received. In reality, there is only one way in which I can serve you. If my experience of Parisian life and its comforts, or my acquaintance with the market, may recommend me to you, then I am at your disposal to find you a suitable house. I would not dare to offer to let you share my lodgings as I shared yours in Rome – I who do not profess egoism but am a perfect egoist; for here there is no room to house even a shadow apart from myself, unless it were the shadow of a woman.’

‘Ah! That is a very conjugal exception,’ said the count. ‘And indeed, Monsieur, I believe you said something to me in Rome about a projected marriage. Should I congratulate you on your future happiness?’

‘The matter is under consideration, Monsieur le Comte.’

‘Which means “perhaps”,’ said Debray.

‘Not at all,’ Morcerf replied. ‘My father is anxious for it to take place and I shortly expect to introduce you, if not to my wife, at least to my fiancée, Mademoiselle Eugénie Danglars.’

‘Eugénie Danglars!’ the count exclaimed. ‘One moment: isn’t her father Baron Danglars?’

‘Yes,’ said Morcerf, ‘but recently created baron.’

‘What does that matter,’ Monte Cristo replied, ‘if he has rendered the state some service that deserved the distinction?’

‘He did, indeed,’ said Beauchamp. ‘Although a Liberal by instinct, he arranged a loan of six million francs in 1829 for King Charles X, who made him a baron, no less, and knight of the Legion of Honour, which means that he wears the ribbon, not, as you might think, in the buttonhole of his waistcoat, but quite plainly on his coat itself.’

Morcerf laughed: ‘Come now, Beauchamp, my good fellow, keep that for
Le Corsaire
, and
Le Charivari
but, in my presence at least, spare my future father-in-law.’ Then he turned back to Monte Cristo: ‘But you mentioned him a moment ago as if you knew him?’

‘I don’t,’ Monte Cristo said in an offhand manner, ‘but it seems likely that I shall shortly make his acquaintance, since I have a credit opened on him by the firms of Richard and Blount of London, Arnstein and Eskeles in Vienna and Thomson and French in Rome.’

As he spoke the last two names, Monte Cristo looked out of the corner of his eye at Maximilien Morrel. Perhaps he expected to produce some effect on the young man and, if so, he was not disappointed. Maximilien shuddered as though he had received an electric shock.

‘Thomson and French?’ he asked. ‘Do you know that firm, Monsieur?’

‘They are my bankers in the Eternal City,’ the count replied calmly. ‘Can I be of service to you regarding them?’

‘Monsieur le Comte! Perhaps you might help us to solve a problem that has so far proved insoluble. That firm once did our own a great service and yet, I don’t know why, always denies having done so.’

‘I shall look into it, Monsieur,’ said the count, bowing.

‘But the subject of Monsieur Danglars has taken us a long way,’ Morcerf said, ‘from the matter in hand, which was to find suitable accommodation for the Count of Monte Cristo. Come, now, gentlemen; let’s put our heads together. Where shall we house this newly arrived guest of our great city?’

‘In the Faubourg Saint-Germain,’ said Château-Renaud. ‘There the count will find a charming, secluded little private house.’

‘Puf! Château-Renaud,’ said Debray, ‘you know nothing beyond that gloomy and melancholy Faubourg Saint-Germain of yours.
Don’t listen to him, Monsieur le Comte; find somewhere in the Chaussée d’Antin – that’s the true centre of Paris.’

‘The Boulevard de l’Opéra,’ said Beauchamp. ‘On the first floor, an apartment with a balcony. There, the count can have them bring his cushions embroidered in silver thread and, while he smokes his chibouk or swallows his pills, he can watch the whole city pass before his eyes.’

‘Morrel, don’t you have any suggestions?’ asked Château-Renaud. ‘Have you no ideas?’

‘Yes, certainly I do,’ the young man said, smiling. ‘But I was waiting to see if Monsieur was tempted by any of the fine offers that he has just been made. Now, since he has not replied, I think I might venture to offer him an apartment in a charming little house, in Pompadour style, which my sister has been renting for the past year in the Rue Meslay.’

‘Do you have a sister?’ Monte Cristo asked.

‘Yes, Count. The most excellent sister.’

‘Married?’

‘For the past nine years.’

‘Is she happy?’ the Count continued.

‘As happy as any human creature may be,’ Maximilien replied. ‘She married the man whom she loved, the man who had remained loyal to us in our times of misfortune: Emmanuel Herbault.’

Monte Cristo gave a faint smile.

‘I am staying there while I am on leave,’ Maximilien continued, ‘and, with that same brother-in-law Emmanuel, I shall be at the count’s disposal for any information he might require.’

‘One moment,’ Albert exclaimed, before Monte Cristo had time to reply. ‘Be careful, Monsieur Morrel: you are trying to cage a traveller, Sinbad the Sailor, in the prison of family life. Here is a man who came to see Paris, and you want to make him a patriarch.’

‘Not at all,’ Morrel replied with a smile. ‘My sister is twenty-five and my brother-in-law thirty: they are young, merry and contented. In any case, the count will be free to do as he wishes; he will only meet his hosts when he chooses to come down and do so.’

‘Thank you, Monsieur, thank you,’ said Monte Cristo. ‘It will be enough for me to be introduced to your sister and your brother-in-law, if you wish to do me that honour. But the reason I did not accept the offers of any of these gentlemen is that I have already arranged for somewhere to live.’

‘What!’ Morcerf exclaimed. ‘You are going to stay in a hotel? That would be very gloomy indeed for you.’

‘Was I so ill-housed in Rome?’ Monte Cristo asked.

‘Huh! In Rome,’ Morcerf said, ‘you spent fifty thousand
piastres
in furnishing an apartment for yourself, but I don’t suppose you are prepared to spend that every day.’

‘It was not the expense that deterred me,’ Monte Cristo replied. ‘But I was resolved to have a house in Paris – a house of my own, you understand. I sent my valet on ahead of me and he must have bought me this house and had it furnished.’

‘Are you telling us that you have a valet who knows Paris!’ Beauchamp exclaimed.

‘Like me, he is visiting France for the first time. He is black, and cannot speak,’ Monte Cristo replied.

At this, there was general surprise. ‘So, it must be Ali?’ Albert ventured.

‘Yes, Monsieur, Ali himself, my Nubian, my dumb fellow, whom I believe you saw in Rome.’

‘Certainly, I recall him very well,’ Morcerf replied. ‘But why did you make a Nubian responsible for buying you a house in Paris and a dumb man for furnishing it? He will have got everything back to front, the poor fellow.’

‘Not at all, Monsieur. I am certain, on the contrary, that he will have chosen everything in accordance with my tastes; because, you know, my tastes are not shared by everyone. He got here a week ago, and he will have criss-crossed the town with the instincts of a good hunting-dog, hunting alone. He knows my whims, my caprices, my needs. He will have arranged everything as I want it. He knew that I would be arriving today at ten o’clock, and since nine he has been waiting for me at the Fontainebleau gate. He handed me this paper, with my new address on it. Here, read it!’

Monte Cristo passed the paper across to Albert, who read: ‘Number thirty, Champs-Elysées.’

‘That’s really novel!’ Beauchamp exclaimed involuntarily.

‘And very princely,’ Château-Renaud added.

‘What! You truly don’t know your house?’ Debray asked.

‘No,’ said Monte Cristo. ‘As I told you, I did not want to miss our appointment. I shaved and dressed in the carriage and got out at the viscount’s door.’

The young men exchanged glances. They did not know whether
Monte Cristo was play-acting, but everything that this man said, despite his eccentricity, was delivered in such a simple tone that it was impossible to suspect him of lying. And, for that matter, why should he lie?

‘So we must make do,’ Beauchamp said, ‘with ensuring that the count has all the other little things that we are able to give him. For my part, as a journalist, I offer him all the theatres of Paris.’

‘I thank you, Monsieur,’ said Monte Cristo, with a smile, ‘but my butler has already been ordered to rent me a box in each of them.’

‘Is your butler also a dumb Nubian?’ Debray asked.

‘No, sir, merely one of your compatriots, if a Corsican can be said to be anyone’s compatriot; but you know him, Monsieur de Morcerf…’

‘Not by any chance the good Signor Bertuccio who is so expert at hiring windows?’

‘The very same: you met him at my house on the day when I had the honour to invite you to luncheon. He is an excellent fellow who was something of a soldier, something of a smuggler and, in short, a little of all that one can be. I would not swear to it that he has not been in trouble with the police over some trifle – like a knifing, say.’

‘And you chose this honest citizen of the world as your butler, Count?’ Debray said. ‘How much does he steal from you every year?’

‘You have my word on it, no more than any other, I am sure. He is just what I need, he never takes no for an answer and I am keeping him.’

‘Well, then,’ said Château-Renaud, ‘you have a household all ready: a mansion on the Champs-Elysées, servants, a butler; the only thing lacking is a mistress.’

Albert smiled, thinking of the beautiful Greek woman whom he had seen in the count’s box at the Teatro Valle and the Argentina.

‘I have something better than that,’ Monte Cristo replied. ‘I have a slave. You hire your mistresses at the Théâtre de l’Opéra, at the Vaudeville, at the Variétés. I bought mine in Constantinople. She was more expensive, but I have no further worries on that score.’

Debray laughed. ‘You are forgetting that here, as King Charles said, we are Franks by name and frank by nature. As soon as she set foot in France, your slave became free.’

‘Who will tell her?’ asked Monte Cristo.

‘Heavens, anybody who comes along.’

‘She only speaks Romaic.’

‘Ah, that’s another matter.’

‘Shall we see her, at least?’ asked Beauchamp. ‘Or, having already one dumb servant, do you also have eunuchs?’

‘No, certainly not,’ said Monte Cristo. ‘I do not take my orientalism that far. All those around me are free to leave, and will have no further need of me or of anyone else. Perhaps that is why they do not leave me.’

They had long since moved on to the dessert and the cigars.

‘My dear fellow,’ Debray said, getting up, ‘it is half-past two and your guest is charming, but there is no company so good as that one leaves, even sometimes for worse. I must go back to my Ministry. I shall speak of the count to the minister and we must find out who he is.’