The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 61

Whenever Monte-Cristo established himself in a new home, the house became transformed as if a magician of the Arabian Nights had touched it with his wand. There was not a dark or gloomy corner to be seen. Lights blazed everywhere. The rarest pictures and choicest furniture were to be seen. Everything was magnificent and harmonious. The tall stature of the Count, his excessive pallor and the exaggerated attention he paid to his dress, added to this effect, as did the dark face of Ali, who, invariably draped in soft, white folds, stood like a bronze statue near the many colored portieres. With the Vicomte, however, all colors were softer than with his father. The cabinet, for example, where we find him, was hung with gray and black velvet, and the rugs were fur, of the same soft gray.

The Vicomte's dress was in no ways peculiar, though careful. He disliked anything that made him conspicuous. His face and his voice had a certain sadness that contrasted strangely with his name of Esperance.[A] Books lay open on the table before him; they were on philosophical subjects, heat and cold. Imagination had never touched him with her golden wand.

[A] Esperance means Hope.

Esperance was very pale as he read his father's letter. He extended his hand and rang the bell.

Coucon entered, looking very differently from those old days in Africa.

Not that he wore a livery, but his brown suit was simple and well cut.

In his eyes, however, was much of the old fire.

"Has my father gone?" asked Esperance.

"Yes, sir, while you were asleep."

"Why was not I awakened?"

"Because the Count forbade it. He simply said, as he went away, that a letter was to be given to you."

"Was Bertuccio with my father?"

"Yes, sir."

"In what direction did he go?"

"I know not, and I a.s.sure you that no one in the hotel knows more than I."

Coucon was glad when this examination was over. Esperance was never harsh or severe with his people, but they never felt at ease with him as with his father. But in fact Bertuccio had given no hint of where the Count was going, and when Esperance was fully convinced of this he dismissed Coucon; but as the Zouave was leaving the room, the young master stopped him.

"I want to say to you, Coucon, that I am fully aware of your fidelity, and that I trust you implicitly. You once a.s.sisted my father to save my life."

"Never mind that, sir."

"And if my manner is cold toward you, my heart is not. Shake hands with me."

Coucon, greatly pleased, laid his huge hand into the delicate one of the Vicomte, who pressed it warmly.

The Zouave uttered an exclamation.

"What is the matter?"

"Nothing--only--"

"Only what?"

"Well, sir, you have a tremendous squeeze, I must say. Your fingers felt as if they were made of steel."

Esperance looked at his hands in some surprise.

"Yes," he said, in a dreamy voice, "I am strong, I believe."

"Strong! I should say you were."

"I did not hurt you, I trust?" and Esperance still gazed at his hands in a troubled sort of way.

"Where will you breakfast, sir?" asked Coucon.

"In the gallery, I think."

"And alone?"

"I don't know; I do not remember inviting any one."

Coucon departed, proud of the shake of the hand he had received, although he still rubbed his fingers to restore the circulation.

CHAPTER XLV.

"WHAT WILL HE DO?"

Esperance was alone; his brow was thoughtful. He sank into a chair and buried his face in his hands. Suddenly he started up, and drawing aside the heavy portiere over a door, entered a small, dark room that seemed to be an oratory.

Stained gla.s.s windows admitted an uncertain light. Esperance threw open the sash and the daylight streamed in, and with it the delicious breeze of spring. Esperance turned to the wall, on which hung a fine picture of Monte-Cristo. Next this portrait hung one of his mother.

The young man spoke aloud. "Father!" he said, "mother! listen to me, judge me and counsel me. Who and what am I? What is my future to be? Am I guilty or am I--mad?"

Esperance s.h.i.+vered. Then throwing his head back proudly, he said, "No, I am not mad, and yet I cannot understand myself. Oh! father, why did I not have courage to speak to you frankly? You would have understood me and encouraged me. I am afraid of life, I am afraid of myself--afraid of the very name I bear, and of your greatness, the shadow of which falls on me."

In the letter written by Monte-Cristo to his son, he had spoken the truth. He had not thought sufficiently of developing the especial characteristics of his son, and had made of him a philosopher.

Esperance had been compelled to reason calmly on all subjects, and the inconsequence of youth had been frowned upon by his father.

Edmond Dantes had been young, vivacious and full of illusions and hopes.

Monte-Cristo forgot this, and forgot that Esperance was but twenty. He had been kind and loving to Esperance; he had, as he believed, armed him for the battle of life, but he had extinguished his boyishness and engrafted the seeds of distrust.

Esperance never accused his father, but the result of this education was that he was afraid of himself and others. Monte-Cristo saw his son silent and sad at times, but he did not realize that it was because he had quenched the youth in him and made him prematurely old. He moreover suddenly became convinced that it was best for Esperance to leave him, and therefore departed silently and mysteriously.

Esperance was armed against the tragedies of life, but not against its daily annoyances.

Esperance had enormous muscular strength, and yet he was weak to resist sorrow. He could have held his hand on a brazier of burning coals, but he would have started at a pin-p.r.i.c.k. And now that Monte-Cristo had gone, Esperance felt like a child deprived of its mother.

A bell rang, announcing a visitor.

He pa.s.sed his hand over his brow. Then addressing the dear portraits once more, "Beloved mother!" he murmured, "give me your enthusiasm and your delicacy, and, my father, give me strength and courage. G.o.d grant that I may be worthy of you both!"

He went to the window, and gazed up at the blue sky with an expression that was almost mystical. Then he closed the room, and returned to his chamber.