The apartment on the second floor of the house in the Rue
Saint-Germain-des-Pres, where Albert de Morcerf had selected a home
for his mother, was let to a very mysterious person. This was a man
whose face the concierge himself had never seen, for in the winter
his chin was buried in one of the large red handkerchiefs worn by
gentlemen's coachmen on a cold night, and in the summer he made a
point of always blowing his nose just as he approached the door.
Contrary to custom, this gentleman had not been watched, for as the
report ran that he was a person of high rank, and one who would
allow no impertinent interference, his incognito was strictly
respected.
His visits were tolerably regular, though occasionally he
appeared a little before or after his time, but generally, both in
summer and winter, he took possession of his apartment about four
o'clock, though he never spent the night there. At half-past three
in the winter the fire was lighted by the discreet servant, who had
the superintendence of the little apartment, and in the summer ices
were placed on the table at the same hour. At four o'clock, as we
have already stated, the mysterious personage arrived. Twenty
minutes afterwards a carriage stopped at the house, a lady alighted
in a black or dark blue dress, and always thickly veiled; she
passed like a shadow through the lodge, and ran up-stairs without a
sound escaping under the touch of her light foot. No one ever asked
her where she was going. Her face, therefore, like that of the
gentleman, was perfectly unknown to the two concierges, who were
perhaps unequalled throughout the capital for discretion. We need
not say she stopped at the second floor. Then she tapped in a
peculiar manner at a door, which after being opened to admit her
was again fastened, and curiosity penetrated no farther. They used
the same precautions in leaving as in entering the house. The lady
always left first, and as soon as she had stepped into her
carriage, it drove away, sometimes towards the right hand,carriage, it drove away, sometimes towards the right hand,
sometimes to the left; then about twenty minutes afterwards the
gentleman would also leave, buried in his cravat or concealed by
his handkerchief.
The day after Monte Cristo had called upon Danglars, the
mysterious lodger entered at ten o'clock in the morning instead of
four in the afternoon. Almost directly afterwards, without the
usual interval of time, a cab arrived, and the veiled lady ran
hastily up-stairs. The door opened, but before it could be closed,
the lady exclaimed: "Oh, Lucien — oh, my friend!" The concierge
therefore heard for the first time that the lodger's name was
Lucien; still, as he was the very perfection of a door-keeper, he
made up his mind not to tell his wife. "Well, what is the matter,
my dear?" asked the gentleman whose name the lady's agitation
revealed; "tell me what is the matter."
"Oh, Lucien, can I confide in you?"
"Of course, you know you can do so. But what can be the matter?
Your note of this morning has completely bewildered me. This
precipitation — this unusual appointment. Come, ease me of my
anxiety, or else frighten me at once."
"Lucien, a great event has happened!" said the lady, glancing
inquiringly at Lucien, — "M. Danglars left last night!"
"Left? — M. Danglars left? Where has he gone?"
"I do not know."
"What do you mean? Has he gone intending not to return?"
"Undoubtedly; — at ten o'clock at night his horses took him to
the barrier of Charenton; there a post-chaise was waiting for him —
he entered it with his valet de chambre, saying that he was going
to Fontainebleau."
"Then what did you mean" —
"Stay — he left a letter for me."
"A letter?"
"Yes; read it." And the baroness took from her pocket a letter
which she gave to Debray. Debray paused a moment before reading, as
if trying to guess its contents, or perhaps while making up his
mind how to act, whatever it might contain. No doubt his ideas were
arranged in a few minutes, for he began reading the letter whicharranged in a few minutes, for he began reading the letter which
caused so much uneasiness in the heart of the baroness, and which
ran as follows: —
"Madame and most faithful wife."
Debray mechanically stopped and looked at the baroness, whose
face became covered with blushes. "Read," she said.
Debray continued: —
"When you receive this, you will no longer have a husband. Oh,
you need not be alarmed, you will only have lost him as you have
lost your daughter; I mean that I shall be travelling on one of the
thirty or forty roads leading out of France. I owe you some
explanations for my conduct, and as you are a woman that can
perfectly understand me, I will give them. Listen, then. I received
this morning five millions which I paid away; almost directly
afterwards another demand for the same sum was presented to me; I
put this creditor off till to-morrow and I intend leaving to-day,
to escape that to-morrow, which would be rather too unpleasant for
me to endure. You understand this, do you not, my most precious
wife? I say you understand this, because you are as conversant with
my affairs as I am; indeed, I think you understand them better,
since I am ignorant of what has become of a considerable portion of
my fortune, once very tolerable, while I am sure, madame, that you
know perfectly well. For women have infallible instincts; they can
even explain the marvellous by an algebraic calculation they have
invented; but I, who only understand my own figures, know nothing
more than that one day these figures deceived me. Have you admired
the rapidity of my fall? Have you been slightly dazzled at the
sudden fusion of my ingots? I confess I have seen nothing but the
fire; let us hope you have found some gold among the ashes. With
this consoling idea, I leave you, madame, and most prudent wife,
without any conscientious reproach for abandoning you; you have
friends left, and the ashes I have already mentioned, and above all
the liberty I hasten to restore to you. And here, madame, I must