The Count of Monte Cristo 💎 by Alexandre Dumas (Part 4) Full Audio Book

CHAPTER IV. CONSPIRACY Danglars followed Edmond and Mercédès with his eyes until the two lovers disappeared behind one of the angles of Fort Saint-Nicolas. Then turning around, he perceived Fernand, who had fallen, pale and trembling, into his while Caderousse stammered out the words of a drinking song. Well, my dear sir, said Danglars to Fernand, here is a marriage which does not appear to make everybody happy. It drives me to despair, said Fernand. Do you love Mercédès? I adore her. For long? As long as I have known her, always. And you sit there, tearing your hair, instead of seeking to remedy your condition? I did not think that was the way of your people. What would you have me do, said Fernand? How do I know? Is it my affair? I am not in love with Mademoiselle Mercédès. But for you, in the words of the Gospel, seek and you shall find. I have found already. What? I would stab the man. But the woman told me that if any misfortune happened to her betrothed, she would kill herself. Pooh! Women say those things, but never do them. You do not know, Mercédès, what she threatens she would do. Idiot, muttered Danglars, whether she kill herself or not, what matter, provided Dante is not captain. Before Mercédès should die, replied Fernand, with the accents of unshaken resolution, I would die myself. That's what I call love, said Caderousse, with a voice more tipsy than ever. That's love, or I don't know what love is. Come, said Danglars, you appear to me a good sort of fellow, and, Angmi, I should like to help you. But... Yes, said Caderousse, but how? My dear fellow, replied Danglars, you are three parts drunk. Finish the bottle, and you will be completely so. Drink then, and do not meddle with what we are discussing, for that requires all one's wit and cruel judgment. I? Drunk? said Caderousse. Well, that's a good one. I could drink four more such bottles. They are no bigger than a cholo in the flasks. Perponville, more wine. And Caderousse rattled his glass upon the table. You were saying, sir, said Fernand, awaiting with great anxiety the end of this interrupted remark, what was I saying? I forget. This drunken Caderousse has made me lose the thread of my sentence. Drunk, if you like, so much the worse for those who fear wine, for it is because they have bad thoughts, which they are afraid the liquor will extract from their hearts. And Caderousse began to sing the two last lines of a song very popular at that time. Tous les méchants sont bevards d'eau, si bien prouvent par la déluge. The wicked are great drinkers of water, as the flood proved once for all. You said, sir, you would like to help me, but... Yes, but I added, to help you it would be sufficient that Dantès did not marry her you love. And the marriage may easily be thwarted, methinks, and yet Dantès need not die. Death alone cannot separate them, remarked Fernand. You talk like a noodle, my friend, said Caderousse, and here is the Dongla, who is a wide-awake, clever, deep fellow, who will prove to you that you are wrong. Prove it, Dongla, I have answered for you. Say there is no need why Dantès should die, it would indeed be a pity he should. Dantès is a good fellow, I like Dantès. Dantès, you are health, Fernand rose impatiently. Let him run on, said Dongla, restraining the young man. Drunk as he is, he is not much out in what he says. Absence severs as well as death, and if the walls of a prison were between Edmond and Mercedes, they would be as effectually separated as if he lay under a tombstone. Yes, but one gets out of prison, said Caderousse, who with what sense was left him, listened eagerly to the conversation. And when one gets out, and one's name is Edmond Dantès, one seeks revenge. What matters that, muttered Fernand. And away, I should like to know, persisted Caderousse, should they put Dantès in prison. He is not robbed, or killed, or murdered. Hold your tongue, said Dongla. I won't hold my tongue, replied Caderousse, I say, I want to know why they should put Dantès in prison. I like Dantès, Dantès, you are health, and he swallowed another glass of wine. Caderousse saw in the muddled look of the tailor the progress of his intoxication, and turning towards Fernand, said, Well, you understand there is no need to kill him. Certainly not, if, as you said just now, you have the means of having Dantès arrested. Have you that means? It is to be found for the searching. But why should I meddle in the matter? It is no affair of mine. I know not why you meddle, said Fernand, seizing his arm. But this I know. You have some motive of personal hatred against Dantès, for he himself hates, is never mistaken, in the sentiments of others. I? Motives of hatred against Dantès? No, no, my word, so you were unhappy, and your unhappiness interested me, that's all. But since you believe I act for my own account, adieu, my dear friend, get out of the affair as best you may. And Danglars rose, as if he meant to depart. No, no, said Fernand, restraining him, stay. It is of very little consequence to me, at the end of the matter, whether you have any angry feeling or not against Dantès. I hate him, I confess it openly. Do you find the means? I will execute it, provided it is not to kill the man, for Mercedes has declared she will kill herself if Dantès is killed. Catarus, who had let his head drop on the table, now raised it, and looked at Fernand with his dull and fishy eyes. He said, Kill? Dantès? Who talks of killing Dantès? I won't have him killed, I won't. He is my friend, and this morning offered to share his money with me, as I shared mine with him. I won't have Dantès killed, I won't. And who has said a word about killing him, madeleine? replied Danglars. We were merely joking. Drink to his health. He added, filling Catarus's glass, and do not interfere with us. Yes, yes, Dantès, good health, said Catarus, emptying his glass. Here's to his health, his health, hurrah. But the means, the means, said Fernand. Have you not hit upon any? asked Danglars. No, you undertook to do so, replied Danglars. The French have the superiority over the Spaniards, that the Spaniards ruminate, while the French invent. Do you invent, then? said Fernand, impatiently. Waiter, said Danglars, a pen, ink, and paper. Pen, ink, and paper, muttered Fernand. Yes, I am a super-cagot. Pen, ink, and paper are my tools, and without my tools I am fit for nothing. Pen, ink, and paper, then, called Fernand, loudly. There's what you want on that table, said the waiter. Bring them here. The waiter did as he was desired. When one thinks, said Calarus, letting his hand drop on the paper, there is the wherewithal to kill a man more sure than if we waited at the corner of a wood to assassinate him. I've always had more dread of a pen, a bottle of ink, and a sheet of paper, than a sword or pistol. The fellow is not so drunk as he appears to be, said Danglars. Give him some more wine, Fernand. Fernand filled Calarus's glass, who, like the confirmed toper he was, lifted his hand from the paper and seized the glass. The Catalan watched him until Calarus, almost overcome by this fresh assault on his senses, rested or rather dropped his glass upon the table. Well, assumed the Catalan, as he saw the final glimmer of Calarus's reason vanishing before the last glass of wine. Well, then, I should say, for instance, resumed Danglars, that if after a voyage such as Dante has just made, in which he touched at the island of Elba, someone were to denounce him to the king's procurer, as a Bonapartist agent. I will denounce him, exclaimed the young man hastily. Yes, but they will make you then sign your declaration, and confront you with him whom you have denounced. I will supply you with the means of supporting your accusation, for I know the fact well, that Dante cannot remain for ever in prison, and one day or other he will leave it. And the day when he comes out, I will betide him who was the cause of his incarceration. Oh, I should wish nothing better than that he would come and seek a quarrel with me. Yes, and Mercedes, who will detest you, if you have only the misfortune to scratch the skin of her dearly beloved Edmond. True, said Fernand. No, no, continued Danglars, if we resolve on such a step, it would be much better to take, as I now do, this pen, dip it into this ink, and write with the left hand, that the writing may not be recognized, the denunciation we propose. And Danglars, uniting practice with theory, wrote with his left hand, and in a writing reversed from his usual style, and totally unlike it, the following lines which he handed to Fernand, and which Fernand read in an undertone. The Honorable, the King's Attorney, is informed by a friend of the throne, and religion, that John Edmond Dante, mate of the ship of Heroin, arrived this morning from Smyrna, after having touched at Naples and Portoferraio, has been entrusted by Murat with a letter for the usurper, and by the usurper with a letter for the Bonapartist Committee in Paris. Proof of this crime will be found on arresting him, for the letter will be found upon him, or at his father's, or in his cabin on board the Pharaon. Very good, resumed Danglars, now your revenge looks like common sense, for in no way can it revert to yourself, and the matter will thus work its own way. There is nothing to do now, but fold the letter, as I am doing, and write upon it, to the King's Attorney, and that's all settled. And Danglar wrote the address as he spoke. Yes, and that's all settled, exclaimed Calarus, who by last effort of intellect had followed the reading of the letter, and instinctively comprehended all the misery which such a denunciation must entail. Yes, and that's all settled, only it will be an infamous shame, and he stretched out his hand to reach the letter. Yes, said Danglar, taking it from beyond his reach, and as what I say and do is merely in jest, and I amongst the first and foremost should be sorry if anything happened to Dante, the worthy Dante, look here, and taking the letter, he squeezed it up in his hands and threw it into a corner of the harbour. All right, said Calarus, Dante is my friend, and I won't have him ill-used. And who thinks of using him ill? Certainly neither I nor Fernand, said Danglar, rising and looking at the young man, who still remained seated, but whose eye was fixed on a denunciatory sheet of paper flung into the corner. In this case, replied Calarus, let's have some more wine. I wish to drink to the health of Edmund and the lovely Mercedes. You have had too much already, drunkard, said Danglar, and if you continue you will be compelled to sleep here, because unable to stand on your legs. I, said Calarus, rising with all the offended dignity of a drunken man, I can't keep on my legs. Why, I'll wager I can go up into the belfry of the accool, and without a staggering two. Done, said Danglar, I'll take your bet, but tomorrow. Today it is time to return. Give me your arm and let us go. Very well, let us go, said Calarus, but I don't want your arm at all. Come, Fernand, won't you return to Marseilles with us? No, said Fernand, I shall return to the Catalans. You're wrong. Come with us to Marseilles, come along. I will not. What do you mean, you will not? Well, just as you like, my prince, there is liberty for all the world. Come along, Danglar, and let the young gentleman return to Catalans if he chooses. Danglar took advantage of Calarus's temper at the moment to take him off towards Marseilles by the port Saint-Victor, staggering as he went. When they advanced about twenty yards, Danglar looked back and saw Fernand stoop, pick up the crumpled paper and putting it into his pocket, then rush out of the arbour towards Pillon. Well, said Calarus, why, what a lie he told. He said he was going to the Catalans, and he is going to the city. Hello, Fernand. Oh, you don't see straight, said Danglar. He's gone right enough. Well, said Calarus, I should have said not. How treacherous wine is! Come, come, said Danglar to himself. Now the work is at work, and it will effect its purpose unassisted.