The Son of Monte-Cristo Volume I Part 54

"I knew this sailor," continued the count, "and received of him the commission to cancel his debt to you."

"His debt?" exclaimed Jacopo, not knowing the meaning thereof.

"Yes, your dream points to a captaincy, and I have the order to realize this dream."

"You! oh, do not make fun of me--"

"What are you thinking of? Look here, Jacopo, do you see this yacht which is now riding on the waves?"

"I see her. She appears to me slender and beautiful--she is a pearl of a vessel."

"I am glad that the yacht is to your taste; she is my property, and I appoint you as captain, if you have no objection!"

Jacopo became almost wild with joy. During the next few months the elegant yacht, called the Ice Bird, moved her wings actively, crossing every sea, and the captain was delighted with her.

When the count came to Paris to investigate the fate of the families Villefort and Danglars, Jacopo received his dismissal, or rather his temporary freedom.

"Master," he asked, sorrowfully, "why do you send me away? Have you to complain of anything concerning me?"

"No, Jacopo; but at present I do not need the yacht any further; I intend for a time to remain in Paris."

"Well, at any rate, I will always be ready to obey your least hint,"

said the Corsican, with enthusiasm. "Command me, and I shall at once honor your call."

"How who knows?" said Monte-Cristo, laughingly.

"What do you wish to say by that a.s.sertion, master? Do you believe Jacopo will be remiss in fulfilling his promise?"

"Who knows?" repeated the count, still laughing, and then, drawing out his pocketbook, he said in an earnest tone: "Jacopo, you have a secret."

"I?"

"Why avoid my question? Your blus.h.i.+ng cheeks convict you of untruth, and then you ought to know me sufficiently; you know that my looks can penetrate the innermost depths of thy soul."

Jacopo bent down his head, turned the cap in his hand confusedly, and became red like a red garden flower.

"Am I to tell you that I am able to read you to the bottom of your heart?"

"Master--"

"I read there a name--"

Jacopo trembled, and grasped a chair to support himself.

"It is the name of a woman."

"Master, master, I entreat you not to mention the name. I suffer enough without that."

The count's countenance grew gloomy.

"Jacopo," said he, peremptorily, "I am forbearing if anybody places confidence in me; irreconcilable if any one seeks to deceive me. I keep silent if you wish it, but we are forever separated. Farewell, you will never see me more!"

He turned to go, but the power which this singular man exercised over others was so great that Jacopo broke out into loud lamentations. He preferred to suffer anything rather than consent to perpetual separation.

"Say, master," he said, with a sigh, "am I able to leave you?"

Monte-Cristo smiled.

"You are a child," he then said. "You cannot bear to hear anybody speaking of your love, because you are forever separated from her."

"Oh, master, then you know everything."

"Listen to me, I am ready to tell you all that I know. There below, in the Catalonian quarter of Ma.r.s.eilles, lives a fisherman's family. Brave and diligent, they were never ashamed of their calling. They have worked day and night with boat and net, and acc.u.mulated a nice amount of property. The family consists of ten persons: father, mother, seven sons, and one daughter live in the modest but decent hut. The sons are strong and courageous fellows, who are not afraid of anybody; the daughter is charming with her dark curly hair, her glowing sloe-black eyes, and her marble white skin. Jacopo, am I to tell you the name of the little one?"

"Manuelita"--it sounded gently like a breath from the lips of Jacopo.

"You have liked this beautiful child since you first saw her, and one day you took heart and you went to Manuelita's father--"

"Who turned me out like a beggar," interrupted Jacopo, gloomily.

"That he did not do," continued the count, coolly. "He told you quietly, Manuelita will not become a poor man's wife."

"And perhaps that was no insult?" continued Jacopo, vehemently. "All people cannot be rich."

"But Manuelita's father has also told you something else?" asked Monte-Cristo, quietly.

"Oh, yes," replied Jacopo, bitterly; "he called after me that if I came back with twenty thousand francs, then Manuelita should be mine. I earn such wealth! He was making sport of me."

And Jacopo stamped angrily and uttered a heavy curse.

Monte-Cristo looked at him reflectively. Then he took a leaf from his pocket-book, which he held in his hand, and offering it to Jacopo, said:

"Here, take this."

"What am I to do with it, master?" asked Jacopo, astonished.

"Well, can't you read any more?"

"Oh, yes; I read an order for 20,000 francs to which your name is affixed."

"And payable at--"

"Thomson & French, in Rome."

"You perhaps doubt whether these gentlemen will honor my signature."

"Oh, master, your signature is as good as ready cas.h.!.+"

"Well, then, go to the first banker you can find and have the check cashed."