son's life? Well, he shall live!" Mercedes uttered a cry which made
the tears start from Monte Cristo's eyes; but these tears
disappeared almost instantaneously, for, doubtless, God had sent
some angel to collect them — far more precious were they in his
eyes than the richest pearls of Guzerat and Ophir.
"Oh," said she, seizing the count's hand and raising it to her
lips; "oh, thank you, thank you, Edmond! Now you are exactly what I
dreamt you were, — the man I always loved. Oh, now I may say
so!"
"So much the better," replied Monte Cristo; "as that poor Edmond
will not have long to be loved by you. Death is about to return to
the tomb, the phantom to retire in darkness."
"What do you say, Edmond?"
"I say, since you command me, Mercedes, I must die."
"Die? and why so? Who talks of dying? Whence have you these
ideas of death?"
"You do not suppose that, publicly outraged in the face of a
whole theatre, in the presence of your friends and those of your
son — challenged by a boy who will glory in my forgiveness as if it
were a victory — you do not suppose that I can for one moment wish
to live. What I most loved after you, Mercedes, was myself, my
dignity, and that strength which rendered me superior to other men;
that strength was my life. With one word you have crushed it, and I
die."
"But the duel will not take place, Edmond, since you
forgive?"
"It will take place," said Monte Cristo, in a most solemn tone;
"but instead of your son's blood to stain the ground, mine will
flow." Mercedes shrieked, and sprang towards Monte Cristo, but,
suddenly stopping, "Edmond," said she, "there is a God above us,
since you live and since I have seen you again; I trust to him from
my heart. While waiting his assistance I trust to your word; you
have said that my son should live, have you not?"
"Yes, madame, he shall live," said Monte Cristo, surprised that
without more emotion Mercedes had accepted the heroic sacrifice he
made for her. Mercedes extended her hand to the count.made for her. Mercedes extended her hand to the count.
"Edmond," said she, and her eyes were wet with tears while
looking at him to whom she spoke, "how noble it is of you, how
great the action you have just performed, how sublime to have taken
pity on a poor woman who appealed to you with every chance against
her, Alas, I am grown old with grief more than with years, and
cannot now remind my Edmond by a smile, or by a look, of that
Mercedes whom he once spent so many hours in contemplating. Ah,
believe me, Edmond, as I told you, I too have suffered much; I
repeat, it is melancholy to pass one's life without having one joy
to recall, without preserving a single hope; but that proves that
all is not yet over. No, it is not finished; I feel it by what
remains in my heart. Oh, I repeat it, Edmond; what you have just
done is beautiful — it is grand; it is sublime."
"Do you say so now, Mercedes? — then what would you say if you
knew the extent of the sacrifice I make to you? Suppose that the
Supreme Being, after having created the world and fertilized chaos,
had paused in the work to spare an angel the tears that might one
day flow for mortal sins from her immortal eyes; suppose that when
everything was in readiness and the moment had come for God to look
upon his work and see that it was good — suppose he had snuffed out
the sun and tossed the world back into eternal night — then — even
then, Mercedes, you could not imagine what I lose in sacrificing my
life at this moment." Mercedes looked at the count in a way which
expressed at the same time her astonishment, her admiration, and
her gratitude. Monte Cristo pressed his forehead on his burning
hands, as if his brain could no longer bear alone the weight of its
thoughts. "Edmond," said Mercedes, "I have but one word more to say
to you." The count smiled bitterly. "Edmond," continued she, "you
will see that if my face is pale, if my eyes are dull, if my beauty
is gone; if Mercedes, in short, no longer resembles her former selfis gone; if Mercedes, in short, no longer resembles her former self
in her features, you will see that her heart is still the same.
Adieu, then, Edmond; I have nothing more to ask of heaven — I have
seen you again, and have found you as noble and as great as
formerly you were. Adieu, Edmond, adieu, and thank you."
But the count did not answer. Mercedes opened the door of the
study and had disappeared before he had recovered from the painful
and profound revery into which his thwarted vengeance had plunged
him. The clock of the Invalides struck one when the carriage which
conveyed Madame de Morcerf away rolled on the pavement of the
Champs-Elysees, and made Monte Cristo raise his head. "What a fool
I was," said he, "not to tear my heart out on the day when I
resolved to avenge myself!"The Count of Monte Cristo bowed to the five young men with a
melancholy and dignified smile, and got into his carriage with
Maximilian and Emmanuel. Albert, Beauchamp, and Chateau-Renaud
remained alone. Albert looked at his two friends, not timidly, but
in a way that appeared to ask their opinion of what he had just
done.
"Indeed, my dear friend," said Beauchamp first, who had either
the most feeling or the least dissimulation, "allow me to
congratulate you; this is a very unhoped-for conclusion of a very
disagreeable affair."
Albert remained silent and wrapped in thought. Chateau-Renaud
contented himself with tapping his boot with his flexible cane.
"Are we not going?" said he, after this embarrassing silence. "When
you please," replied Beauchamp; "allow me only to compliment M. de
Morcerf, who has given proof to-day of rare chivalric
generosity."
"Oh, yes," said Chateau-Renaud.
"It is magnificent," continued Beauchamp, "to be able to
exercise so much self-control!"
"Assuredly; as for me, I should have been incapable of it," said
Chateau-Renaud, with most significant coolness.
"Gentlemen," interrupted Albert, "I think you did not understand
that something very serious had passed between M. de Monte Cristo
and myself."
"Possibly, possibly," said Beauchamp immediately; "but every
simpleton would not be able to understand your heroism, and sooner
or later you will find yourself compelled to explain it to them
more energetically than would be convenient to your bodily health
and the duration of your life. May I give you a friendly counsel?
Set out for Naples, the Hague, or St. Petersburg — calm countries,
where the point of honor is better understood than among our
hot-headed Parisians. Seek quietude and oblivion, so that you may
return peaceably to France after a few years. Am I not right, M. de
Chateau-Renaud?"
"That is quite my opinion," said the gentleman; "nothing induces
serious duels so much as a duel forsworn."
"Thank you, gentlemen," replied Albert, with a smile of