The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 32

"I suppose you mean that I can tell you, if I choose. You seem to give me orders."

"Suppose we sit down." And the Italian pointed to two chairs which were unoccupied. He seated himself at once.

"My dear Vicomte," he said, serenely, "it seems to me that, situated as we are, there should be no misunderstanding or quarrel between us."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean what you seem to have forgotten, that yesterday, in a moment of absent-mindedness, you signed a certain paper with a name that was not your own."

The Vicomte turned very pale.

"How did you know this?" he stammered.

The Italian took out an elegant little pocketbook.

"Here it is," he said, opening a paper bearing the royal mark.

"But how did it come into your hands?"

"In a very simple way--I bought it."

"You--and for what reason?"

"Can you not suppose that my only motive was to render you a service?"

The Vicomte shrugged his shoulders.

"You are right," answered Fernando, in reply to this mute protest. "I have another reason. I do not wish the Vicomte de Talizac to come to grief because my fortune is intimately connected with his--because his father, the Marquis de Fongereues, has rendered and will render great services to a cause that is mine. You must promise me to be guilty of no more imprudences like this."

"Do you mean to give me that paper?"

"No, it is not altogether mine; those who retain an interest in it can alone surrender it to you."

"And who are those persons?"

"Friends, defenders of the Monarchy and of Religion. But we will say no more on this trifle now. I merely wished to prove to you that I had a right to your confidence. Resume your story, and tell me why you hate this man whom you just now provoked."

This trifle, as the Italian called it, could place the Vicomte at the criminals' bar, as both men well knew, but Frederic deemed it advisable not to insist. He suspected the truth, and had long since decided that the Italian belonged to the mysterious a.s.sociation. It was enough for him that the danger was momentarily averted.

"Very well," said Talizac, "you were speaking of Tivoli. The crowd was very great at the fete, the fireworks were going on, at that moment the king's arms were exhibited. Suddenly there was a grand excitement; part of the scaffolding gave way. Mademoiselle de Salves in her fright dropped my arm and began to run. I saw a great timber falling and believed she was lost. I could not reach her. A man emerged from the crowd, and with incredible strength seized this timber and eased it to the ground. She fainted, and when the crowd permitted me to reach her side, this young man was holding her in his arms. She opened her eyes, and I am certain that this man was no stranger to her. When, however, we all gathered about her, the unknown bowed respectfully and vanished. I noticed, however, that this romantic cavalier carried away with him a ribbon from the dress of the young lady--only a ribbon. I told Irene of this impertinence; she did not even condescend to answer me."

"But the Paladin did not long content himself with this silent homage, I presume?"

"Women are idiots, you know, and this man now pa.s.ses Irene's windows daily, and even throws flowers over the garden wall; and this woman, who is to be my wife, stands behind the curtain and watches for his coming.

This my own eyes have seen, and I have come to the conclusion that it has gone on long enough--"

"Ah! and you wish to get rid of this gallant. The matter ought to be easy enough."

"Yes, one would think so. I have kept my valet on the watch, and discovered that he came every day to the _Cafe de Valois_ at this hour--"

"My dear Talizac, I can put an end to all your difficulties. If Mademoiselle de Salves has built up a pretty romance, I can banish her dreams by telling her the name of her lover. Your rival, my dear fellow, is or was rather, a mountebank, and his name is Fanfar."

The Vicomte laughed long and loud.

"Upon my word!" he exclaimed, as soon as he could speak, "I should have made a fool of myself, had I fought a duel with the fellow! But do the men who are with him know who he is?"

"Certainly. They know perfectly well. And yet shake hands with him! They call him their friend."

The Italian could stand no more of this. He rose from his chair. "Come,"

he said, "this is the Carnival, let us end the day merrily."

"I should be only too glad to do so," was the Vicomte's reply, "anything to make me forget the disagreeable scene with that man!"

The Vicomte called the contumely heaped on his father's name and his own, "a disagreeable scene."

The two young men sauntered across the garden. Just as they reached the fountain, Frederic stopped.

"What is it?" asked the Italian.

A young girl was singing to a guitar. A curious crowd had gathered about her. She was a pretty creature; her brown curls were covered by a handkerchief of white wool, her face was perfect in shape and in coloring, her eyes were dark--gay, but at the same time innocent.

She accompanied herself on a guitar as she sang, and her voice was so delicious that the crowd clamored for more. The girl bowed her thanks, and extended the back of her guitar for money. She colored deeply as she did so. When she reached Frederic, he said, in a whisper, as he laid a gold piece on the instrument, "You are alone to-day."

She started, looked up quickly, and pa.s.sed on.

"The 'Marquise' is in a lofty mood," said the Italian, stooping as he spoke, and picking the gold piece from the ground. "Take it, Vicomte, it is yours, since she would have none of it."

Frederic uttered a sullen oath.

"And this has been going on for two months!" Fernando laughed, as he stated this as a fact, "and every day the Marquise--by the way, why is she called by that name!--repels the homage of the Vicomte!"

"Do you spend all your time watching me, Fernando? Take care, patience has its limits!"

"I am glad to hear it. You bear too much from this girl!"

Frederic caught his arm. "Listen to me, Fernando, my brain reels with mad projects. Help me to avenge myself on Fanfar--help me to carry off this girl, and I belong to you, body and soul!"

"Well said!" answered the Italian, "as the bargain is concluded, suppose we go to dinner?"

"But this girl?"

"We will talk of her to-night, and I am quite sure you will have no reason to complain of me!"

CHAPTER XXIV.