Edmond Dantes Part 19

The shaded rays of the dim and distant lamp threw a faint glimmering of light upon the pale countenance, but the quick eye of love instantaneously detected a change. A slight flush was mounting the cheek, and gentle perspiration was distilling upon the brow, while a smile played on the mouth. Suddenly, as she gazed, those pallid lips moved. Astonished, she listened.

"Ma.r.s.eilles! beautiful Ma.r.s.eilles!" said the sleeper. "Home of my boyhood, home of my heart. I come!" Then quickly and sternly came the order, "Let go the anchor--furl the sails--mate, take charge of the s.h.i.+p!" Then the tones changed, and a joyful light shot over the face as the lips exclaimed, "Now for my father! now for my love! Mercedes!

Mercedes!"

Amazed, the fair watcher retained her position, and gazed and listened so silently and breathlessly that the quick and audible beatings of her heart might have been numbered.

"Mine--mine at last!" continued the dreamer. "The marriage-feast--the marriage-feast!" But instantly the expression of the voice and the countenance altered. The light of joy was shrouded in clouds.

"Arrest--arrest me?" was the exclamation--"me! at my marriage-feast! A dungeon for me! Mercedes! Mercedes! My love--my wife! Oh! G.o.d! it is the Chateau d'If! Despair--despair!"

Shocked, terrified at the terrible energy of these words, and the expression of unutterable woe that rested on the countenance of the sleeper, the affrighted woman, who comprehended but too well the fearful significance of the abrupt and disjointed syllables, hastily arose as if to rouse the slumberer from his dream or to call on the Nubian for aid.

But, before she could carry the purpose into execution, the aspect of the Deputy's visage again had changed. A dark frown settled on the brow, a spirit of fixed resolve contracted the firm lip and dilated the nostril, and the word, "Vengeance--vengeance!" in whispers scarcely audible, but repeatedly and rapidly p.r.o.nounced, was heard.

A longer silence than before succeeded. At length another change swept over the face, and the words, "Free--free--I am free!" burst from the lips; then they murmured, "Treasure untold! wondrous wealth!--diamonds--pearls--rubies--ingots of gold! The mad abbe's dream was reality!" Again the countenance darkened. "Fourteen years in a dungeon for no crime!--a father dead of starvation!--a bride the bride of the fiend who has done all this--and he a peer of France--and his friends a millionaire of Paris and the Procureur du Roi!

Vengeance--vengeance--vengeance!" There was a pause, and the dreamer exultingly continued, "It is done! The peer of France is a disgraced suicide! The Procureur du Roi is a madman! The banker is a bankrupt!"

The dreamer again paused, and his countenance once more changed. "Alas!

alas! man is not G.o.d! 'Vengeance is mine, I will repay, saith the Lord!'

The innocent suffer with the guilty. To avenge a wrong has been sacrificed a life, and only misery has been the recompense! No more--no more--no more of this! Man and man's happiness be henceforth the aim! To that be devoted wealth untold!"

The lips ceased to move. Gradually the high excitement of the features pa.s.sed away and was succeeded by an expression of sadness and love.

"Haydee--gone--gone to a better world. Mercedes--Mercedes--oh! does she love me yet? The long lost idol of my heart!--the adored angel of my life!--come! come! come!"

As the dreamer spoke, he spread wide his arms; when his eyes opened, and his long slumbering senses returned, Mercedes, his own Mercedes, was, indeed, clasped to his breast.

"Mercedes! Mercedes?" he faintly whispered. "Ah! it was no dream, for you are, indeed, beside me and mine--mine forever!"

"Thine--thine--forever!" was the reply, and she clasped his feeble form to her heart as she would have clasped that of a child.

CHAPTER XVI.

A NOTABLE FeTE.

On the night of Monday, February 21st, 1848, all Paris was at the house of M. Gaultier de Rumilly, in the Avenue des Champs Elysees. M. Gaultier de Rumilly was well known as one of the leaders of the extreme left, though the confidential friend of M. Odillon Barrot, and the fete was perfectly understood to be a political reunion, rather than a social one. All the accompaniments of the most splendid society events of the season were in requisition. Even the brilliant b.a.l.l.s given by the opulent citizens of New York were eclipsed in luxury and splendor. There was the streaming of lamps and chandeliers, the swell of enchanting music, the whirl of the fascinating polka, redowa or mazurka, while throngs of richly attired and lovely women were constantly enhancing the magnificence of the scene by their arrival. The brilliancy of the occasion was also richly diversified by the presence of an unusually large number of officers of the Munic.i.p.al and National Guards in full uniform, as well as of several belonging to the Line or the regiments of Algeria.

It was about ten o'clock. Within, all was light, life and loveliness; without, the winter wind moaned drearily through the leafless trees of the Boulevard, and the drifting sleet swept along the deserted streets.

It was a wild night. Throughout all Paris seemed going forth a portentous murmur, like that mysterious moaning of the ocean, which, with mariners, is the prelude of a storm. An ominous whispering, as of many voices, seemed to sink and swell on the sweeping night blast; then all was still. Again, in the distance, would rise a sharp shout, or the stern, brief word of military command. At intervals, also, one might imagine he heard a deep rumbling, as of heavy ordnance and its tumbrels over the pavements, accompanied by the measured tread of armed men and the clattering hoofs of cavalry horses. Then these sounds died away, and along the narrow streets of Paris again the night wind only swept, the bitter blast howled and the ominous whispering, as of spirits, rose and fell.

It was a strange and stormy night--murky and chilly--while at intervals the cold rain dashed down in cutting blasts. But within the magnificent mansion of Gaultier de Rumilly all was light and loveliness, as has been said. The splendid salons were already thronged, yet crowds of richly-attired guests were constantly arriving.

"Ha! Beauchamp, just come?" cried Chateau-Renaud to his friend, as he entered.

"By the grace of G.o.d, yes!" said the journalist. "What a night!"

"What a throng of men and women say rather!" was the reply.

"Very true. Who's here?"

"Ask who's not here, and your question may be easily answered. All Paris is here! Women of every age and station, and men of all political creeds--Conservatives, Dynastics, Legitimists, Republicans and Communists. Indeed, this soiree seems to me, and I shouldn't wonder if it were designed so to be, a general reunion of the leaders of all the great parties in France, to compare notes and learn the news."

"And there is news enough to learn, it would seem. Is M. Dantes here?"

"He is, or was, and his beautiful wife, too, the most magnificent woman in Paris. Morrel also is here with his fair bride."

"And who is that dark, dignified man in the Turkish costume, around whom the ladies have cl.u.s.tered so inquisitively?" asked the Deputy.

"Why, that's the Emir of Algeria, the famous captive of the Duke d'Aumale," was the reply.

"What! Abd-el-Kader! How comes he here?"

"Oh! as a special favor, I suppose; he has a respite from his sad prison."

"What a splendid beard, and what keen black eyes!"

"No, his eyes are decidedly gray, but so shaded by his extraordinary lashes that they seem black. They say that he was more distinguished as a scholar, in Algeria, than as a soldier, statesman or priest. In fact, he is as erudite as an Arab can be, and his library, which is contained in two leathern trunks, accompanied him in all his wanderings prior to his submission."

"And what think you really induced him to surrender himself?"

"Policy of the deepest character, and worthy of Talleyrand, Metternich or Nesselrode, if we are to rely on the eloquent speech of Lamoriciere in the Chamber, the other day."

"I remember. Bugeaud spoke first, and Lamoriciere followed. He thought that the Arab Curtius leaped into the gulf because, by so doing, he was convinced he could injure French interests more than by his freedom.

Well, perhaps he was right. He bids fair to be a hard bone of contention between the opposition and the Ministry."

"If I mistake not, Lamoriciere disclaimed all responsibility for accepting the surrender, and placed it on the Governor-General, the young Duke, for whom the Ministry is liable?"

"Yes; and Guizot announced that he would send the Emir back to Alexandria, could security be given against his return to Algeria."

"As to the Emir's surrender, at which you wonder, the real cause is said to have been not policy, but the universal pa.s.sion--love."

"He is an Antony, then, instead of a Curtius."

"So it seems. At the moment when, with incredible efforts, he had effected the pa.s.sage of the Moorish camp, and was off like an ostrich for the desert, the firing of the French, who had reached his deira, struck his ear. Back he flew like the lamiel. Twice his horse fell under him dead--twice he was surrounded and seized, and twice, by his wonderful agility, he regained his freedom. At last, perceiving that all was lost, he turned his face again toward the desert, and, for two days and nights, continued his flight. But his heart was behind him. Certain of escape himself, he preferred hopeless captivity with her he loved, and he returned."

"Quite poetical, on my word! Worthy of Sadi, the Arab Petrarch, himself!" said Chateau-Renaud.

"He is decidedly a great man, that Abd-el-Kader. They say he bears his misfortunes like a philosopher--or, better, a Turk--unalterably mild and dignified, while his wives and his mother wail at his feet. Every morning he reads the Koran to them, and during the orisons all the windows are open, and a large fire blazes in the centre of the room."

"He is a decided G.o.dsend to the quidnuncs of Paris."

"So would be a Hottentot, or a North American savage," replied Beauchamp.

"Rather a different affair this from the Ministerial soiree a week ago, I fancy," remarked the editor.

"Rather. I will confess to you, Beauchamp, I attended that soiree from curiosity to see whether M. Guizot retained his habitual placidity of manner amid the clouds every day thickening around him."

"And what was the result?"