The Count of Monte Cristo. Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
their well-earned laurels. Now is the time for those of the long robe, like M. de Villefort, to achieve a splendid notoriety; seek not, therefore, to cross the brilliant career your betrothed husband may otherwise pursue.”
“Well,” said Renée, “I cannot help regretting you had not chosen some other profession than your own—a physician, for instance. Do you know I always felt a shudder at the idea of even a destroying angel?”
“Dear good Renée!” whispered Villefort, as he gazed with unutterable tenderness on the lovely speaker.
“Let us hope, my child,” cried the marquis, “that M. de Villefort may prove the moral and political physician of this province; if so, he will have achieved a noble work.”
“And one which will go far to efface the recollection of his father’s conduct,” added the incorrigible marquise.
“Madame,” replied Villefort, with a mournful smile, “I have already had the honour to observe, that my father has (at least I hope so) abjured his past errors, and that he is, at the present moment, a firm and zealous friend to religion and order, a better royalist possibly than his son, for he has to atone for past dereliction, while I have no other impulse than warm, decided preference and conviction.”
Having made this well-turned speech, Villefort looked carefully round to mark the effect of his oratory, much as he would have done had he been addressing the bench in open court.
“Do you know, my dear Villefort,” cried the Comte de Salvieux, “that is as nearly as possible what I myself said the other day at the Tuileries, when questioned by his majesty’s principal chamberlain, touching the singularity of an alliance between the son of a Girondin, and the daughter of an officer of the Duc de Condé; and I assure you he seemed fully to comprehend that this mode of reconciling political differences was based upon sound and excellent principles. Then the king, who, without our suspecting it, had overheard our conversation, interrupted us by saying, ‘Villefort,’—observe that the king did not pronounce the word Noirtier, but on the contrary placed considerable emphasis on that of Villefort,—‘Villefort,’ said his majesty, is a ‘young man of great judgment and discretion, who will be sure to make a figure in his profession. I like him much, and it gave me great pleasure to hear that he was about to become the son-in-law of M. le Marquis and Madame la Marquise de Saint-Méran. I should myself have recommended the match, had not the noble marquis anticipated my wishes by requesting my consent to it.’”
“Is it possible the king could have condescended so far as to express himself so favourably of me?” asked the enraptured Villefort.
“I give you his very words; and if the marquis chooses to be candid, he will confess that they perfectly agree with what his majesty said to him, when he went six months ago to consult him upon the subject of your espousing his daughter.”
“Certainly,” answered the marquis; “you state but the truth.”
“How much do I owe this gracious prince! What is there I would not do to evince my earnest gratitude?”
“That is right,” cried the marquise. “I love to see you thus. Now, then, were a conspirator to fall into your hands he would be most welcome.”
“For my part, dear mother,” interposed Renée, “I trust your wishes will not prosper, and that Providence will only permit petty offenders, poor debtors, and miserable cheats, to fall into M. de Villefort’s hands, then I shall be contented.”
“Just the same as though you prayed that a physician might only be called upon to prescribe for headaches, measles, and the stings of wasps, or any other slight affection of the epidermis. If you wish to see me the king’s procureur, you must desire for me some of those violent and dangerous diseases from the cure of which so much honour redounds to the physician.”
At this moment, and as though the utterance of Villefort’s wish had sufficed to effect its accomplishment, a servant entered the room and whispered a few words in his ear. Villefort immediately rose from table and quitted the room upon the plea of urgent business: he soon, however, returned, his whole face beaming with delight.
Renée regarded him with fond affection; and certainly his handsome features, lit up as they then were with more than usual fire and animation, seemed formed to excite the innocent admiration with which she gazed on her graceful and intelligent lover.
“You were wishing just now,” said Villefort, addressing her, “that I were a doctor instead of a lawyer. Well, I at least resemble the disciples of Esculapius in one thing, that of not being able to call a day my own, not even that of my betrothal.”
“And wherefore were you called away just now?” asked Mademoiselle de Saint-Méran, with an air of deep interest.
“For a very serious affair, which bids well to afford our executioner here some work.”
“How dreadful!” exclaimed Renée, her cheeks, that were before glowing with emotion, becoming pale as marble.
“Is it possible?” burst simultaneously from all who were near enough to the magistrate to hear his words.
“Why, if my information prove correct, a sort of Bonaparte conspiracy has just been discovered.”
“Can I believe my ears?” cried the marquise.
“I will read you the letter containing the accusation at least,” said Villefort:—
“‘The procureur du roi is informed by a friend to the throne and the religious institutions of his country, that an individual, named Edmond Dantès, second in command on board the Pharaon, this day arrived from Smyrna, after having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, has been the bearer of a letter from Murat to the usurper, and again taken charge of another letter from the usurper to the Bonapartist club in Paris. Ample corroboration of this statement may be obtained by arresting the above-mentioned Edmond Dantès, who either carries the letter for Paris about with him, or has it at his father’s abode. Should it not be found in the possession of father or son, then it will assuredly be discovered in the cabin belonging to the said Dantès, on board the Pharaon.’“
“But,” said Renée, “this letter, which, after all, is but an anonymous scrawl, is not even addressed to you, but to the procureur du roi.”
“True; but that gentleman being absent, his secretary, by his orders, opened his letters; thinking this one of importance, he sent for me, but not finding me, took upon himself to give the necessary orders for arresting the accused party.”
“Then the guilty person is absolutely in custody?” said the marquise.
“Nay, dear mother, say the accused person. You know we cannot yet pronounce him guilty.”
“He is in safe custody,” answered Villefort; “and rely upon it, if the letter alluded to is found, he will not be likely to be trusted abroad again, unless he goes forth under the especial protection of the headsman.”
“And where is the unfortunate being?” asked Renée.
“He is at my house!”
“Come, come, my friend,” interrupted the marquis, “do not neglect your duty to linger with us. You are the king’s servant, and must go whithersoever that service calls you.”
“Oh, Villefort!” cried Renée, clasping her hands, and looking towards her lover with piteous earnestness, “be merciful on this day of our betrothal.”
The young man passed round to the side of the table where the fair pleader sat, and leaning over her chair said tenderly:
“To give you pleasure, my sweet Renée, I promise to show all the lenity in my power; but if the charges brought against this Bonapartean hero prove correct, why, then, you really must give me leave to order his head to be cut off.“
Renée, with an almost convulsive shudder, turned away her head, as though the very mention of killing a fellow-creature in cold blood was more than her tender nature could endure.
“Never