raised the pistol to his head — if any one had told me, when in my
prison I pushed back the food I had not tasted for three days — if
anyone had said to either of us then, `Live — the day will come
when you will be happy, and will bless life!' — no matter whose
voice had spoken, we should have heard him with the smile of doubt,
or the anguish of incredulity, — and yet how many times has your
father blessed life while embracing you — how often have I myself"
—
"Ah," exclaimed Morrel, interrupting the count, "you had only
lost your liberty, my father had only lost his fortune, but I have
lost Valentine."
"Look at me," said Monte Cristo, with that expression which
sometimes made him so eloquent and persuasive — "look at me. There
are no tears in my eyes, nor is there fever in my veins, yet I see
you suffer — you, Maximilian, whom I love as my own son. Well, does
not this tell you that in grief, as in life, there is always
something to look forward to beyond? Now, if I entreat, if I order
you to live, Morrel, it is in the conviction that one day you will
thank me for having preserved your life."
"Oh, heavens," said the young man, "oh, heavens — what are you
saying, count? Take care. But perhaps you have never loved!"
"Child!" replied the count.
"I mean, as I love. You see, I have been a soldier ever since I
attained manhood. I reached the age of twenty-nine without loving,
for none of the feelings I before then experienced merit the
appellation of love. Well, at twenty-nine I saw Valentine; for two
years I have loved her, for two years I have seen written in her
heart, as in a book, all the virtues of a daughter and wife. Count,
to possess Valentine would have been a happiness too infinite, too
ecstatic, too complete, too divine for this world, since it has
been denied me; but without Valentine the earth is desolate."
"I have told you to hope," said the count.
"Then have a care, I repeat, for you seek to persuade me, and if
you succeed I should lose my reason, for I should hope that I couldyou succeed I should lose my reason, for I should hope that I could
again behold Valentine." The count smiled. "My friend, my father,"
said Morrel with excitement, "have a care, I again repeat, for the
power you wield over me alarms me. Weigh your words before you
speak, for my eyes have already become brighter, and my heart beats
strongly; be cautious, or you will make me believe in supernatural
agencies. I must obey you, though you bade me call forth the dead
or walk upon the water."
"Hope, my friend," repeated the count.
"Ah," said Morrel, falling from the height of excitement to the
abyss of despair — "ah, you are playing with me, like those good,
or rather selfish mothers who soothe their children with honeyed
words, because their screams annoy them. No, my friend, I was wrong
to caution you; do not fear, I will bury my grief so deep in my
heart, I will disguise it so, that you shall not even care to
sympathize with me. Adieu, my friend, adieu!"
"On the contrary," said the count, "after this time you must
live with me — you must not leave me, and in a week we shall have
left France behind us."
"And you still bid me hope?"
"I tell you to hope, because I have a method of curing you."
"Count, you render me sadder than before, if it be possible. You
think the result of this blow has been to produce an ordinary
grief, and you would cure it by an ordinary remedy — change of
scene." And Morrel dropped his head with disdainful incredulity.
"What can I say more?" asked Monte Cristo. "I have confidence in
the remedy I propose, and only ask you to permit me to assure you
of its efficacy."
"Count, you prolong my agony."
"Then," said the count, "your feeble spirit will not even grant
me the trial I request? Come — do you know of what the Count of
Monte Cristo is capable? do you know that he holds terrestrial
beings under his control? nay, that he can almost work a miracle?
Well, wait for the miracle I hope to accomplish, or" —
"Or?" repeated Morrel.
"Or, take care, Morrel, lest I call you ungrateful.""Or?" repeated Morrel.
"Or, take care, Morrel, lest I call you ungrateful."
"Have pity on me, count!"
"I feel so much pity towards you, Maximilian, that — listen to
me attentively — if I do not cure you in a month, to the day, to
the very hour, mark my words, Morrel, I will place loaded pistols
before you, and a cup of the deadliest Italian poison — a poison
more sure and prompt than that which has killed Valentine."
"Will you promise me?"
"Yes; for I am a man, and have suffered like yourself, and also
contemplated suicide; indeed, often since misfortune has left me I
have longed for the delights of an eternal sleep."
"But you are sure you will promise me this?" said Morrel,
intoxicated. "I not only promise, but swear it!" said Monte Cristo
extending his hand.
"In a month, then, on your honor, if I am not consoled, you will
let me take my life into my own hands, and whatever may happen you
will not call me ungrateful?"
"In a month, to the day, the very hour and the date are sacred,
Maximilian. I do not know whether you remember that this is the 5th
of September; it is ten years to-day since I saved your father's
life, who wished to die." Morrel seized the count's hand and kissed
it; the count allowed him to pay the homage he felt due to him. "In
a month you will find on the table, at which we shall be then
sitting, good pistols and a delicious draught; but, on the other
hand, you must promise me not to attempt your life before that
time."
"Oh, I also swear it!" Monte Cristo drew the young man towards
him, and pressed him for some time to his heart. "And now," he
said, "after to-day, you will come and live with me; you can occupy
Haidee's apartment, and my daughter will at least be replaced by my
son."
"Haidee?" said Morrel, "what has become of her?"
"She departed last night."
"To leave you?"
"To wait for me. Hold yourself ready then to join me at the
Champs Elysees, and lead me out of this house without any one
seeing my departure." Maximilian hung his head, and obeyed with
childlike reverence.