"Oh, your excellency, your excellency!" cried the steward,
struck with terror at this threat, "if that is the only reason I
cannot remain in your service, I will tell all, for if I quit you,
it will only be to go to the scaffold."
"That is different," replied Monte Cristo; "but if you intend to
tell an untruth, reflect it were better not to speak at all."
"No, monsieur, I swear to you, by my hopes of salvation, I will
tell you all, for the Abbe Busoni himself only knew a part of my
secret; but, I pray you, go away from that plane-tree. The moon is
just bursting through the clouds, and there, standing where you do,
and wrapped in that cloak that conceals your figure, you remind me
of M. de Villefort."
"What!" cried Monte Cristo, "it was M. de Villefort?"
"Your excellency knows him?"
"The former royal attorney at Nimes?"
"Yes."
"Who married the Marquis of Saint-Meran's daughter?"
"Yes."
"Who enjoyed the reputation of being the most severe, the most
upright, the most rigid magistrate on the bench?"
"Well, monsieur," said Bertuccio, "this man with this spotless
reputation" —
"Well?"
"Was a villain."
"Bah," replied Monte Cristo, "impossible!"
"It is as I tell you."
"Ah, really," said Monte Cristo. "Have you proof of this?"
"I had it."
"And you have lost it; how stupid!"
"Yes; but by careful search it might be recovered."
"Really," returned the count, "relate it to me, for it begins to
interest me." And the count, humming an air from "Lucia," went to
sit down on a bench, while Bertuccio followed him, collecting his
thoughts. Bertuccio remained standing before him."At what point shall I begin my story, your excellency?" asked
Bertuccio.
"Where you please," returned Monte Cristo, "since I know nothing
at all of it."
"I thought the Abbe Busoni had told your excellency."
"Some particulars, doubtless, but that is seven or eight years
ago, and I have forgotten them."
"Then I can speak without fear of tiring your excellency."
"Go on, M. Bertuccio; you will supply the want of the evening
papers."
"The story begins in 1815."
"Ah," said Monte Cristo, "1815 is not yesterday."
"No, monsieur, and yet I recollect all things as clearly as if
they had happened but then. I had a brother, an elder brother, who
was in the service of the emperor; he had become lieutenant in a
regiment composed entirely of Corsicans. This brother was my only
friend; we became orphans — I at five, he at eighteen. He brought
me up as if I had been his son, and in 1814 he married. When the
emperor returned from the Island of Elba, my brother instantly
joined the army, was slightly wounded at Waterloo, and retired with
the army beyond the Loire."
"But that is the history of the Hundred Days, M. Bertuccio,"
said the count; "unless I am mistaken, it has been already
written."
"Excuse me, excellency, but these details are necessary, and you
promised to be patient."
"Go on; I will keep my word."
"One day we received a letter. I should tell you that we lived
in the little village of Rogliano, at the extremity of Cape Corso.
This letter was from my brother. He told us that the army was
disbanded, and that he should return by Chateauroux,
Clermont-Ferrand, Le Puy, and Nimes; and, if I had any money, he
prayed me to leave it for him at Nimes, with an inn-keeper with
whom I had dealings."
"In the smuggling line?" said Monte Cristo.
"Eh, your excellency? Every one must live."
"Certainly; go on."
"I loved my brother tenderly, as I told your excellency, and I
resolved not to send the money, but to take it to him myself. I
possessed a thousand francs. I left five hundred with Assunta, mypossessed a thousand francs. I left five hundred with Assunta, my
sister-in-law, and with the other five hundred I set off for Nimes.
It was easy to do so, and as I had my boat and a lading to take in
at sea, everything favored my project. But, after we had taken in
our cargo, the wind became contrary, so that we were four or five
days without being able to enter the Rhone. At last, however, we
succeeded, and worked up to Arles. I left the boat between
Bellegarde and Beaucaire, and took the road to Nimes."
"We are getting to the story now?"
"Yes, your excellency; excuse me, but, as you will see, I only
tell you what is absolutely necessary. Just at this time the famous
massacres took place in the south of France. Three brigands, called
Trestaillon, Truphemy, and Graffan, publicly assassinated everybody
whom they suspected of Bonapartism. You have doubtless heard of
these massacres, your excellency?"
"Vaguely; I was far from France at that period. Go on."
"As I entered Nimes, I literally waded in blood; at every step
you encountered dead bodies and bands of murderers, who killed,
plundered, and burned. At the sight of this slaughter and
devastation I became terrified, not for myself — for I, a simple
Corsican fisherman, had nothing to fear; on the contrary, that time
was most favorable for us smugglers — but for my brother, a soldier
of the empire, returning from the army of the Loire, with his
uniform and his epaulets, there was everything to apprehend. I
hastened to the inn-keeper. My misgivings had been but too true. My
brother had arrived the previous evening at Nimes, and, at the very
door of the house where he was about to demand hospitality, he had
been assassinated. I did all in my power to discover the murderers,
but no one durst tell me their names, so much were they dreaded. I
then thought of that French justice of which I had heard so much,
and which feared nothing, and I went to the king's attorney."
"And this king's attorney was named Villefort?" asked Monte
Cristo carelessly.