“Ah, madame,” replied Monte Cristo, “all this is an affair between the French captain and the daughter of Vasiliki. “Why do you remember when it forgets? What are Yanina and its vizier to you, Edmond? What injury his Fernand Mondego done you in betraying Ali Tepelini?” “And why do you represent providence?” cried Mercedes. de Morcerf it is providence which punishes him.” “Madame, you are mistaken, they are not misfortunes,-it is a punishment. “Listen to me, my son has also guessed who you are,-he attributes his father’s misfortunes to you.” “You have seen that he would have thrown his glove in my face if Morrel, one of my friends, had not stopped him.” “If you have seen all, madame, you know that the son of Fernand has publicly insulted me,” said Monte Cristo with awful calmness.
I guessed all I followed him this evening to the opera, and, concealed in a parquet box, have seen all.” “No one, in truth but a mother has twofold sight. “And who told you, madame, that I have any hostile intentions against your son?” “You see, Edmond, I am not mistaken, and have cause to say, ‘Spare my son!’” “Fernand, do you mean?” replied Monte Cristo, with bitter irony “since we are recalling names, let us remember them all.” Monte Cristo had pronounced the name of Fernand with such an expression of hatred that Mercedes felt a thrill of horror run through every vein. “Mercedes lives, sir, and she remembers, for she alone recognized you when she saw you, and even before she saw you, by your voice, Edmond,-by the simple sound of your voice and from that moment she has followed your steps, watched you, feared you, and she needs not to inquire what hand has dealt the blow which now strikes M. “Mercedes is dead, madame,” said Monte Cristo “I know no one now of that name.” Edmond, it is not Madame de Morcerf who is come to you, it is Mercedes.” “Yours!” cried she, throwing back her veil,-”yours, which I alone, perhaps, have not forgotten. “What name did you pronounce then, Madame de Morcerf?” said he. The stranger cast one look around her, to be certain that they were quite alone then bending as if she would have knelt, and joining her hands, she said with an accent of despair, “Edmond, you will not kill my son?” The count retreated a step, uttered a slight exclamation, and let fall the pistol he held. “Who are you, madame?” said the count to the veiled woman. Baptistin looked at his master, who made a sign to him, and he went out, closing the door after him. Before he had spoken a word, the count saw in the next room a veiled woman, who had followed closely after Baptistin, and now, seeing the count with a pistol in his hand and swords on the table, rushed in. He was just taking one up and looking for the point to aim at on a little iron plate which served him as a target, when his study door opened, and Baptistin entered. A cap was sufficient to drive out the bullet, and from the adjoining room no one would have suspected that the count was, as sportsmen would say, keeping his hand in. These were pistols of an especial pattern, which Monte Cristo had had made for target practice in his own room. No one who knew the count could mistake his expression when, on entering, he said, “Ali, bring me my pistols with the ivory cross.”Īli brought the box to his master, who examined the weapons with a solicitude very natural to a man who is about to intrust his life to a little powder and shot.
Then he stepped into his coupe, calm and smiling, and was at home in five minutes. Morrel took leave of him at the door, renewing his promise to be with him the next morning at seven o’clock, and to bring Emmanuel. Monte Cristo waited, according to his usual custom, until Duprez had sung his famous “Suivez–moi ” then he rose and went out.
The count of monte cristo mercedes update#
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