The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 4

The Place Notre Dame at Fribourg was crowded with citizens and soldiers.

The citizens wore troubled, and talked together in low voices, while the soldiers were noisy and abusive against France.

The colossal spire of the Cathedral threw its shadow over this scene.

Sovereigns and diplomats, ready for an invasion of France, had left Frankfort for Fribourg, there to complete their plans of vengeance and hate.

Blucher, with Sachen and Laugeron, had concentrated their troops between Mayence and Coblentz. The Prince de Schwartzemberg was marching toward Bale. The Swiss were irritated, believing that their neutrality would be violated.

In the Chamber of Commerce the Emperor Alexander, with Metternich and Lord Castlereagh, were studying maps, eager for the fray and the dismemberment of France. Count Pozzo de Borga was on his way to England.

On the Place de Ministre a tall mansion faces the Cathedral. Steps, with wrought iron railings, lead to the oaken door, well barred with steel.

On the second floor, in a large, gloomy room, several persons are a.s.sembled. The last rays of the setting sun are coming from the high windows through the heavy panes of gla.s.s set in lead.

Standing near a window is a lady in black, looking out on the Square; her hand caresses a child who clings to her skirts. The two corners of the chimney in which are burning resinous logs of wood are occupied. On one side sits an old man, on the other a lady wrapped in a cloak that covers her entirely.

The Marquis de Fongereues is only sixty, but his white hair, his wrinkles, and the sad senility of his countenance gave him the appearance of an octogenarian. He sits motionless, his hands crossed on his knees. The lady opposite, whose head rests on the high oak back of her chair, is not yet forty. Her face is hard, and her eyes, fixed upon the Marquis, seem eager to read his thoughts. She is Pauline de Maillezais--Marquise de Fongereues--and the lady at the window is Magdalena, Vicomtesse de Talizac. Her husband, Jean de Talizac, is the son of the Marquis de Fongereues. Suddenly the old man said:

"Where is Jean?"

Magdalena started, as if this voice, breaking the silence of the room, had startled her.

"He has been away since morning," she replied, in a voice that she endeavored to render careless.

"Ah!" said the Marquis, relapsing into silence. Presently he inquired what time it was.

"Let me see--I wish to tell him," cried the child, leaving his mother's side and running across the room to a console table, on which stood an elaborate clock.

Frederic, the son of the Vicomte de Talizac, is deformed. One shoulder is higher than the other, and he limps, but he seems alert.

"It is seven o'clock," he said, in a sharp voice.

The door was thrown open at this moment, and a German officer appeared.

Madame Fongereues rose hastily.

"And what is the decision, Monsieur de Karlstein?" she asked.

The officer bowed low to each of the three persons in the room, and then said, quietly:

"To-morrow the allied armies will cross the French frontier."

"At last!" exclaimed Madame de Fongereues, and Madame de Talizac uttered a cry of joy. The Marquis was unmoved.

"The details--give us the details!" said the young Marquise.

"We shall reach France through Switzerland," said the German, "and penetrate the heart of the empire. Lord Castlereagh approves of this plan and the Emperor Alexander gives it favorable consideration."

"And in a month the king will be at the Tuileries!" said Madame de Talizac.

The German did not notice this remark.

"And now, ladies, will you kindly permit me to retire? In two hours I leave with my company."

Madame de Fongereues extended her hand to him.

"Go, sir," she said. "Go aid in this sacred work! Insolent France must learn that the most sacred rights cannot be trodden under foot with impunity. Let the chastis.e.m.e.nt be as terrible as has been the crime!"

Monsieur de Karlstein bowed low and went out.

"At last!" repeated the Marquise. "These French have insulted and despised us too long! Twenty-five years of exile! It is twenty-five years since my father the Comte de Maillezais took me in his arms and, pointing toward Paris, said, 'Child! remember that the day will come when these men will kill their king, as they have forced your father to fly for his life.' Monsieur Fongereues, do you hear? Are you not glad to return as master among these men who drove you away, and with you all that there was great and n.o.ble in France?"

The old man turned his head.

"G.o.d protect France!" he said, solemnly.

A shout of laughter rang through the room. It was the son of Vicomte Jean, who was laughing at his grandfather.

Madame de Talizac shrugged her shoulders impatiently. Madame de Fongereues made her a sign.

"Come," she said, "the Marquis is sinking into his second childhood, and his follies irritate me."

The child took his mother's hand.

"We shall be the masters now, mamma, shall we not?"

The Vicomtesse murmured, as she left the room,

"Why has not Jean come? Can it be that he has not succeeded!"

Hardly had they disappeared than a door, concealed behind a hanging, slowly opened.

Pierre Labarre appeared and noiselessly approaching his master, knelt at his feet.

"Master," he said, respectfully, "I have returned."

The Marquis started. "You have come!" he exclaimed, then dropping his voice, he added, "Quick! Simon?"

"Hus.h.!.+ not so loud!" said Pierre; then whispering in the old man's ear, "He is living!" he said.

The Marquis half closed his eyes, and his lips moved in prayer, while large tears slowly ran down his withered cheeks.

The Marquis belonged to one of the oldest families of Languedoc. His ancestors had served France faithfully and had held positions of trust near the persons of the kings. The present Marquis had committed a fault not easily forgiven by the _ancien regime_. He had married the daughter of a farmer, when he was twenty, in spite of the threats of his family.

This union was of short duration, for his wife died in giving birth to a son. This blow was so sudden that the young man abandoned himself to despair. He shut himself up from the world on an estate he had among the Vosges mountains, and lived only for his child.

The beloved dead, though of peasant blood, had been an extraordinary woman. She, young as she was, had thought much, and felt deeply the sufferings of her cla.s.s. She pointed out to the Marquis how the people were weighed down by taxes, and how little their hard toil availed them.

"Friend," said Simonne, "thou art wealthy, thou belongest to the privileged cla.s.s, give and speak. Open thy hand, and raise thy voice!"

She endeavored to awaken in his heart a n.o.ble ambition. He was twenty and he loved. Had she lived, Armand would, undoubtedly, have been one of the greatest actors in the crisis then preparing, but now that she was gone, he forgot the glorious legacy she had bequeathed to him. He detested the court, however, and determined that his son should grow up far away from its influences. Simon, therefore, pa.s.sed his childhood among the mountains drinking in the delicious air, and growing as freely as a young tree.