The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 88

"I will watch the enemy," Carmen had said to Goutran, when they parted.

The enemy was the man who had taken advantage of her inexperience, and induced her to call him father. Why had she not realized what she was doing sooner? She had, however, shown her womanly courage by the confession she had made to Goutran, and now she found herself without s.h.i.+eld or buckler in opposition to the man under whose roof she lived.

She resolved to defend Goutran and all those he loved. Woe to whomsoever should attack them.

That same morning, Laisangy asked to be received by her. She was quite ready for another quarrel, but Laisangy was amiable and smiling, for he had at that moment heard from Benedetto that his vengeance was near being accomplished.

Strangely enough this man Laisangy was in deadly terror of Monte-Cristo, and fully estimated the almost superhuman power of this wonderful man.

But when Benedetto appeared before him and he found that there was one villain greater than himself, he was encouraged and comforted. What joy it would be to torture, without danger to himself, the soul of him whom he had so feared.

Danglars had given himself, soul and body, to Benedetto, as in legends a man abandons himself to a demon. He smiled as he entered Carmen's room.

"What do you want of me?" she said, coldly.

"You have not forgotten that we give a grand reception this evening."

"This evening! Surely you mistake--"

"No. This is your own list of invitations that I hold in my hand."

Carmen had forgotten entirely that these invitations had been sent out a week before.

Laisangy looked at her closely.

"I fancied," he said, "that this entertainment had escaped your memory."

"I certainly shall not appear!" answered Carmen.

The banker bit his lips, this was precisely what he feared. He began to argue the matter gently. And she, in her turn, began to reflect. She saw on the list the name of Goutran, which she had written with a breaking heart. After all, had she the right to desert her post?

"Very well," she said, "I will be present."

Laisangy was astonished at his prompt success.

"Yes," she repeated, "on condition that you do not once call me your daughter."

"What shall I call you?" stammered Laisangy.

"Whatever you choose, only take care that you do not disobey me!"

In fact, the banker cared little upon this point. He had obtained what he wanted. His fete would be made brilliant by Carmen's presence. He did not retire, however, and the girl saw that he had something else to say.

"What more do you want?" she asked, impatiently.

"My dear child," began Laisangy, with some pomposity, "you have, doubtless, ere this discovered that matters of finance are composed of a thousand details more important than those of diplomacy."

"I have certainly learned that swindling is a troublesome business," she said through her teeth, and with intense disdain.

Laisangy pretended not to hear this.

"To-night," he said, with perfect _sang froid_, "we leave the Tuileries."

He had counted on the effect of these words. Carmen shrugged her shoulders, which certainly was not respectful to the Emperor.

"And I am greatly disturbed," continued the banker. "It may be necessary for me to leave for an hour. I shall pretend indisposition, which may be attributed to the heat, and while I am supposed to be recovering in my own room, I can go out and attend to my affairs."

"You may be obliged to go out, then?"

"Certainly; did you not understand?"

"Why do you not tell me that you wish to go to the Bourse?"

Laisangy was annoyed. He saw that Carmen was on the _qui vive_, and Carmen said to herself: "What does this mean? He is lying, and some infernal machination is on foot. I must learn what it is."

She replied more gently:

"But I care little about these matters; the Bourse does not interest me. At what hour did you say you might be called away?"

"About midnight."

"Very good. Then you would like me, I suppose, to be very anxious about you, and urge you to withdraw?"

"Precisely!" answered the banker, much pleased. "Ah, Carmen, how well you understand me. Had you chosen, we two would have governed France!"

"Not I!" answered Carmen, abruptly. "We are companions, not accomplices.

I do not understand you, and I do not propose to aid you in your infamy."

At this word Laisangy started, and thus confirmed the suspicions of Carmen, who was watching him.

He took her hand, and she withdrew it quickly. He had obtained what he desired, and was now ready to depart.

"What is he planning?" said Carmen to herself. "Is it really some financial operation, which, of course, I care nothing about, or is it----?"

Goutran's name rose to her lips. All day she watched him, but saw nothing to justify her in her belief, and yet she knew that her woman's instinct had not played her false. Over and over again she was tempted to retract her promise, for the idea of this fete was intolerable to her. She thought of Goutran, and remembered that she might save him.

The evening came, and Carmen's maid could hardly believe it was she who replied:

"What dress, did you say? I don't care in the least!"

Nevertheless, when Carmen appeared in the salons there was an audible murmur of admiration. In her white dress, with a few flowers in her beautiful hair, Carmen had never been more beautiful. She moved slowly through the rooms, looking for Goutran, who was not there, as we know.

Little did Carmen care for these men and women, who were the tools and slaves of the man of December. Laisangy was radiant, however. Carmen s.h.i.+vered whenever she looked at him. It seemed to her that he was in a state of unusual excitement.

The orchestra was playing delightfully, and lacqueys were announcing the first names of the empire--counts, and barons, and princes. Suddenly a new name was heard:

"Mohammed-Ben-Omar!"

And a magnificent personage, wearing the Legion of Honor on his white bournous, entered the room. Every one turned to look at him. He was a magnificent looking Arab. With a gravity that was truly oriental, and with his face half concealed in the folds of his mantle, his brown hands folded on his breast, Mohammed-Ben-Omar advanced.

Laisangy went forward to meet him. In fact, he could hardly believe in his good fortune. Mohammed-Ben-Omar belonged to that cla.s.s of Algerians who, listening to the counsel of French financiers, always cherished the project of making Algeria into a veritable El Dorado, and had now come to France to lend the support of his name and authority to some one of the speculations built on the sands of the desert, of which the Tuileries people were so fond.