the star of a grand officer of the order of the Saviour, and on the
left that of the grand cross of Charles III., which proved that the
person represented by the picture had served in the wars of Greece
and Spain, or, what was just the same thing as regarded
decorations, had fulfilled some diplomatic mission in the two
countries.
Monte Cristo was engaged in examining this portrait with no less
care than he had bestowed upon the other, when another door opened,
and he found himself opposite to the Count of Morcerf in person. He
was a man of forty to forty-five years, but he seemed at least
fifty, and his black mustache and eyebrows contrasted strangely
with his almost white hair, which was cut short, in the military
fashion. He was dressed in plain clothes, and wore at his
button-hole the ribbons of the different orders to which he
belonged. He entered with a tolerably dignified step, and some
little haste. Monte Cristo saw him advance towards him without
making a single step. It seemed as if his feet were rooted to the
ground, and his eyes on the Count of Morcerf. "Father," said the
young man, "I have the honor of presenting to you the Count of
Monte Cristo, the generous friend whom I had the good fortune to
meet in the critical situation of which I have told you."
"You are most welcome, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf,
saluting Monte Cristo with a smile, "and monsieur has rendered our
house, in preserving its only heir, a service which insures him our
eternal gratitude." As he said these words, the count of Morcerf
pointed to a chair, while he seated himself in another opposite the
window.
Monte Cristo, in taking the seat Morcerf offered him, placed
himself in such a manner as to remain concealed in the shadow of
the large velvet curtains, and read on the careworn and livid
features of the count a whole history of secret griefs written in
each wrinkle time had planted there. "The countess," said Morcerf,
"was at her toilet when she was informed of the visit she was about"was at her toilet when she was informed of the visit she was about
to receive. She will, however, be in the salon in ten minutes."
"It is a great honor to me," returned Monte Cristo, "to be thus,
on the first day of my arrival in Paris, brought in contact with a
man whose merit equals his reputation, and to whom fortune has for
once been equitable, but has she not still on the plains of
Metidja, or in the mountains of Atlas, a marshal's staff to offer
you?"
"Oh," replied Morcerf, reddening slightly, "I have left the
service, monsieur. Made a peer at the Restoration, I served through
the first campaign under the orders of Marshal Bourmont. I could,
therefore, expect a higher rank, and who knows what might have
happened had the elder branch remained on the throne? But the
Revolution of July was, it seems, sufficiently glorious to allow
itself to be ungrateful, and it was so for all services that did
not date from the imperial period. I tendered my resignation, for
when you have gained your epaulets on the battle-field, you do not
know how to manoeuvre on the slippery grounds of the salons. I have
hung up my sword, and cast myself into politics. I have devoted
myself to industry; I study the useful arts. During the twenty
years I served, I often wished to do so, but I had not the
time."
"These are the ideas that render your nation superior to any
other," returned Monte Cristo. "A gentleman of high birth,
possessor of an ample fortune, you have consented to gain your
promotion as an obscure soldier, step by step — this is uncommon;
then become general, peer of France, commander of the Legion of
Honor, you consent to again commence a second apprenticeship,
without any other hope or any other desire than that of one day
becoming useful to your fellow-creatures; this, indeed, is
praiseworthy, — nay, more, it is sublime." Albert looked on and
listened with astonishment; he was not used to see Monte Cristo
give vent to such bursts of enthusiasm. "Alas," continued thegive vent to such bursts of enthusiasm. "Alas," continued the
stranger, doubtless to dispel the slight cloud that covered
Morcerf's brow, "we do not act thus in Italy; we grow according to
our race and our species, and we pursue the same lines, and often
the same uselessness, all our lives."
"But, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf, "for a man of your
merit, Italy is not a country, and France opens her arms to receive
you; respond to her call. France will not, perhaps, be always
ungrateful. She treats her children ill, but she always welcomes
strangers."
"Ah, father," said Albert with a smile, "it is evident you do
not know the Count of Monte Cristo; he despises all honors, and
contents himself with those written on his passport."
"That is the most just remark," replied the stranger, "I ever
heard made concerning myself."
"You have been free to choose your career," observed the Count
of Morcerf, with a sigh; "and you have chosen the path strewed with
flowers."
"Precisely, monsieur," replied Monte Cristo with one of those
smiles that a painter could never represent or a physiologist
analyze.
"If I did not fear to fatigue you," said the general, evidently
charmed with the count's manners, "I would have taken you to the
Chamber; there is a debate very curious to those who are strangers
to our modern senators."
"I shall be most grateful, monsieur, if you will, at some future
time, renew your offer, but I have been flattered with the hope of
being introduced to the countess, and I will therefore wait."
"Ah, here is my mother," cried the viscount. Monte Cristo,
turned round hastily, and saw Madame de Morcerf at the entrance of
the salon, at the door opposite to that by which her husband had
entered, pale and motionless; when Monte Cristo turned round, she
let fall her arm, which for some unknown reason had been resting on
the gilded door-post. She had been there some moments, and had
heard the last words of the visitor. The latter rose and bowed to
the countess, who inclined herself without speaking. "Ah, good