The wife of Monte-Cristo. Being the continuation of Alexander Dumas' celebrated novel of The Count of Monte Cristo..

Front matter

ONTE CRIST C

ALEX DUMAS

THE

Prologue

IX TSX COURT-ROOM.

«rpHE COUNT OF MONTE^ISI8TO must have X a hand in this 1 "

"He has!"

" And the throng pouring into the Palais de Justice means ? n

" That Paris has a new sensation, or rather an old one revived Benedetto, the false Prince CavalcantL, is to be tried to-day in the Assise Court for the murder of Caderonsse."

" Ah ! yea, I remember it all now — the burglary in the house of the Count of Monte-Cristo — the assassination— Benedetto's arrest — the dramatic incident of the first trial. No wonder all Paris is excited. Let as go in and witness the developments."

« With all my heart."

The speakers were Beauchamp and Chftteau-Renaud. They had just alighted from separate coupe's and, meet

22 THEWIPE OP MONTE-CRISTO.

ing in the street, the above-mentioned conversation hud ensned. Immediately they locked arms, and mingling with the conconrse entered the Palais de Justice.

It wag the 14th of January, 1839, about three months after the departure of the Count of Monte- Cristo. The hour was eleven in the morning ; it was bitterly cold and great flakes of snow were descending in fleecy torrents ; the streets were covered with ice.

When Beauchamp and Ch&teau-Renaud entered the court-room it was already packed.

" When does the Benedetto case come up ? " asked Beauchamp of a young advocate.

" Another matter precedes it on the docket, but that will soon be disposed of." ,

As Beauchamp turned to move away he was suddenly brought face to face with an elegant looking woman, heavily draped and evidently disguised. He gave a quick start and catching Ch&teau-Renaud by the arm drew him into a corner.

)' Did you notice that woman ? " he asked, in an agitated whisper.

" Yes," answered Ch&teau-Renaud ; «* but what of ker?"

"Hush! Don't speak so loudly. Debray is. here, and that woman — "

" Mon Dieu ! this Monte-Cristo romance has turned your head ! What has that woman to do with Debray's presence ? She does not even glance toward him ; besides, another man is with her."

** I tell you that woman is — •"

"Well, win. is she?"

THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRISTO. 2S

" Madame Danglars ! "

« What ! "

It was now Ch&teau-Renaud's turn to start. The woman meanwhile had withdrawn into a remote corner of the court-room, where she sat with her companion, a tall, yellow, emaciated man, with a bald, pointed head, who nervously occupied a chair, his hands on his knees and his eyes fixed upon the crucifix hanging on the wall back of the judges. The woman had carefully covered her face with a thick vail ; not a feature of her countenance could be distinguished.

"This is the strangest of all," muttered Ch&teau- Renaud. " I thought Madame Danglars had vanished iike the other participants in the great Monte-Cristo catastrophes, save Benedetto, never to be heard of more."

" You forget Monsieur de Villefort," said Beauchamp, quietly.

" Oh ! he is mad and in D'Avrigny's asylum. As for Madame de Villefort and her son, they are certainly dead ; there can be no doubt whatever about that."

" But Valentine ? "

" What do you mean ? The poor girl is dead also."

"Don't be too sure of that. There is something very like sorcery in all these affairs with which that weird being, the Count of Monte-Cristo, is associated. A friend told me he met Mademoiselle de Villefort alive and well in Marseilles ! "

" What you tell me is, indeed, wonderful — absolutely beyond the bounds of mortal comprehension. Should this prove true, I shall believe the ag ' if miracle hss returned."

**Afri so it has! "

* Well, after this i shall e.ipeet Monsieur D&sgk&re to come back from the fogs of the Mediterranean ! But that handsome and eccentric Mademoiselle Dangl&rs, the beet of the family, where i& she ? "

u Yon ask me too much. I have heard nothing of her, bat I should not be surprised to hear that she is a cantatriee or an actress somewhere, if her career should not turn out to be even a more startling one."

44 What of Debray?"

" Oh ! he has his millions and nothing to do since the fall of his Minister."

u Benedetto came within an inch of being his son-in-law. That would bare given him employment enough I "

" Yes, I fancy it would I M

" Old Noirtier has gone south, but where he is now no one knows — it is an impenetrable mystery that, doubtless, will never be probed. You remember the Morcerfs, of course. After the count committed suicide, his son Albert, who was a soldier, went to Algeria to fight for France and has not bsen heard of *inee. If he is not dead, he is a prisoner in the hands of the Arabs, suffering torture a thousand times worse than death. Madame de Moreerf — "

** Yes, MeroSdes, the Count of Monte-Oristo's old lady-love."

" Is nowhere to be found, but before young Aibert't departure, he and his mother gave the suicide's great fortune to the poor."

** Well, Benedetto yet remains to be disposed of, and the law will certainly punish him as he deserves. He is a consummate scoundrel."

" Yes, the evidence is all against klm, and of the most convincing character."

The court-room was now thronged to its utmost capacity; every available spot was occupied.

At this moment a low, smothered cry escaped from the lips of the mysterious woman supposed hy Beauchamp and Chiteau-Renaud to be Madame Danglars. The close, stifling atmosphere of the crowded court-room had overcome her, and she had fallen back in her chair as if in a swoon. Those in her immediate vicinity gathered tumultuously about her, and her companion who had risen excitedly to his feet, was heard calling for water. Beauohamp procured some in a pitcher, and hastily quitting Chiteau-Renaud, with a glass in his hand pressed forward through the crowd. When Beauchamp reached the woman's side, he excitedly strove to lift her vail, but her watchful companion held it firmly down, and grasping the pitcher and glass gave her a drink, or ratker moistened her lips. This partially revived her, and struggling wildly, she exclaimed:

" My boy, oh I where is my poor, unfortunate boy? "

Her companion's visage assumed an ashen hue and his hand trembled like a leaf shaken by the wind. Chiteau- Renaud was now at Beauchamp's side. The twain exchanged a quick glance of intelligence and satisfaction. They waited an instant to hear something further, but in this they were disappointed, for the vailed woman, having recovered consciousness, uttered not another syllable, and they were compelled to return to thsh former position.

" What did I tell you ! " whispered Beauchamp to Ch&teau-Renaud, with an air of triumph.

"You were right," answered the latter; "that woman must, indeed, be the missing Madame Danglars. Will wonders never cease ? "

"Never where the Count of Monte-Cristo is conrerned ! " returned Beauchamp, with an air of profound conviction.

" What can that woman hope to do by her mere oresence in the court-room?" inquired Chateau- Renaud, anxiously.

" I am sure I cannot tell," replied Beauchamp. " I am utterly bewildered."

" Perhaps she counts on making a dramatic scene at the proper time, and thus inspiring sympathy for the accused," ventured Chateau-Renaud.

" You will not be kept much longer in suspense, for the trial now occupying the attention of the court ia very near its close."

" But who can Madame Danglars' companion be ? "

" T am at a loss to determine ; he cannot be a favorite of hers, for he is without doubt the most repulaiva person I ever beheld."

" It may be that he is merely a servant."

" I think not ; he displayed too much interest in her dniing her swoon for that."

Beauchamp glanced at Debray, who was evidently uneasy, though he strove to maintain a show of impassibility. The others who had heard Madame Danglars words had either paid no attention to them or had failed to seize their meaning, for it was clear that the only feeling that swayed the crowd was idle curiosity, mingled with a desire to hear a death sentence pronounced upon a hardened and detested assassin.

At length Benedetto's case was reached and there was a stir throughout the entire vast assemblage. A low hum of conversation resounded from every direction. The President called imperatively and sternly Jor silence, and when perfect quiet again reigned, ►aught with the multitude's mute expectation, he said, in a voice of dignified solemnity:

** Let the accused, the prisoner Benedetto, be brought In."

Again there was a slight buzz of curiosity ; people stood on tiptoe and craned their necks to get a sight of the former Prince Cavalcanti, now known to be a desperate swindler, and as an additional aggravation charged with having taken the life of a fellow creature. The ladies rose on the floor and struggled with the men to see this once brilliant wretch, while the fair sex in the gallery leaned forward, agitating their fans to create a current of refreshing coolness.

When the people leaped to their feet on hearing the President's order, the supposed Madame Danglars gave a quick start and held her hands tightly against her bosom, but not a cry escaped her; she did not even raise her head, but remained seated, gazing stonily beneath her vail at the floor of the court-room.

CHAPTER 1. Benedetto's transformation

THE accused did not appear immediately and the delay, trifling as it was, augmented the impatience of the crowd in the court-room. What was the trouble? Had Benedetto escaped? No; that was impossible — he had been too closely watched night and day. Had he found means to commit suicide? No; that was equally impossible. A thousand other wild suppositions were indulged in, only to be promptly discarded.

The brief respite gave Beauchamp time to think. He glanced at the lawyers and journalists present and then at the court officials standing idly at their posts. He thought of Benedetto's haughty bearing at the first trial, recalling the unblushing audacity with which the impudent scoundrel had hurled his startling assertion into the midst of the amazed assemblage :

"My father is here! He is Monsieur de Villefort, the Procureur du Roi!"

Beauchamp glanced toward the spot the Procureur had occupied, as if he expected to behold the pallid, agitated countenance of the public officer where Fate had suddenly laid its heavy hand upon Mm and remorselessly stricken him, but he saw only a substitute, a stout man with a nose hooked like an eagle's beak.

At that instant a low murmur ran through the dense crowd. Three gendarmes entered and in their midst was Benedetto.

Every eye was fixed upon the hardened desperado.

Beauchamp was so astonished at the change in his appearance, that an exclamation of astonishment rose to his lips and was with great difficulty prevented from breaking forth.

Chateau-Renaud was equally amazed.

The haughty, arrogant man, who as the Prince Cavalcanti had figured so prominently in the most dazzling circles of high Parisian society, was haughty and arrogant no longer. He was thoroughly and radically changed. His crafty Italian features were unaltered, but his once sparkling eyes had a leaden look and his eyelids drooped, producing a strange effect; black ringlets, those wonderful black ringlets, had ceased to drape his pale and lofty forehead, for his hair was cropped short like a convict's. His long, delicate and slender hands were crossed on his breast, and his entire bearing indicated profound humility and submission. The showy garments of other days were gone and Benedetto's shapely figure was attired with the utmost plainness.

In obedience to a rude push from one of the gendarmes, the accused meekly took the place he was to occupy, and stood there with his head bent and his eyes fastened upon the floor.

His lawyer strove to encourage him and told him somewhat impatiently to bear stiffly up, but Benedetto merely shrugged his shoulders, saying almost in a whisper that he relied upon a merciful God.

" I was not prepared for this singular transformation , What could have caused it ? " whispered Chateau- Renaud to Beauchamp.

Benedetto sat down, and the act of accusation was read at the command of the President.

The act was very brief. It charged Benedetto with the murder of Caderousse, alluding to the first trial and its interruption by Monsieur de Villefort's amazing revelation, which was followed by the Procureur's madness and his wife's tragic death by her own hand. In short it smoothed over Benedetto's crimes and magnified those of his unfortunate father.

" It is Monsieur de Villefort, rather than his son who is on trial ! " muttered Beauchamp, between his teeth.

When the act had been read, the President addressed the accused.

" Stand up," he said.

Benedetto obeyed with an air of touching resignation.

" What is your name ? " • "Benedetto."

" Do you admit committing the murder with which you are charged ? "

"Alas! I have no other course; I am only too guilty ! " replied the accused, sobbing and covering his face with his hands.

" Why, the scoundrel is simply playing a rdle I What a farce ! " growled Beauchamp.

As each question was put, Benedetto answered unhesitatingly. He admitted everything, and fell back upon his repentance, concluding by saying :

THE WIFE OF MONTE-CRI8TO SI

"1 await the justice of God and man! 1 have indeed, been a great sinner I "

There was very little for the jury to do ; their task was plain. Benedetto avowed his crime and his record could not be worse.

" Crier, call the witnesses," said the President.

The first called was the Count of Monte-Cristo. Grim silence followed the crier's shout.

** Monte-Cristo not in court ! " said the President, at length. "This is strange, considering the deep interest he has in the case. Was he summoned in due form ? "

"He was," answered the substitute, glancing over the papers on the table before him, "but he has disposed of all his property in Paris and vanished, leaving not a single clue to his present whereabouts.'

The President assumed a grave look. "Let the other witnesses be called," he said.

They appeared in turn and gave their testimony. It was without flaw and hinged well together. These persons had distinctly heard the shrieks uttered by the victim, Caderousse, on the fatal occasion of the burglary at Monte-Cristo's residence. They were present when the assassinated man was found with the mur derous weapon — the bloody dagger — yet sticking in the mortal wound in his breast. No evidence could be clearer or more convincing. All was evidently over with Benedetto.

"Do you wish to interrogate the witnesses?" demanded the President, turning to Benedetto.

" No," was the solemn reply. " The witnesses are

84 THE WIFE OF MONT E- 0 8 I ST O .

bt*aest citis*ns, aad every word they have said ia God's truth!"

This outburst elicited unmistakable tokens of approval front the excited audience, but the President promptly and sternly silenced the applause. It was, however, plain that Benedetto's unreserved contrition had ereated a popular sentiment in his favor.

" Call Noirtier de Villefort," said the President.

As the crier shouted the mad Procureur's name, a thrill of excitement ran through the vast, compact crowd. Be&uohamp was scandalised. He started from the bench upon which he had been sitting with Chateau-Ren&ud, and muttered : u How cruel to summon that unfortunate man ! "

The President deemed a word of explanation expe iient, He, therefore, addressed the jury :

" Using the discretionary power vested in the court, ' he said, in a tone of marked solemnity and impressive* ness, "we have summoned Monsieur de Villefort to testily at the bar of this tribunal. We thought proper to do so for form's sake, that all the legal requirements amy be fully complied with, but, at the same time, we cannot hope to elicit anything of importance from him. His mental condition precludes that."

This speech aided Benedetto, for it recalled to the minds of all present that the father's cruel abandonment of his son had forced the latter into the descending path that led to crime

Amid profound silence the door of the witness-room was thrown open. An instant later Monsieur de Villefort confronted Benedetto.

T3E WIFE OF MOXTE-CRISTO. 33

Chapter II. Tsk Sentence Of Death

ITONSrEUR DE VILLEFORT was not alone . jj_ With him was Doctor d'Avrigny, who had given him the protection of his white hair and honorable name.

Villefort was bowed and crushed, reminding one of those accursed cities on which has fallen fire from heaven.

He had become bald ; his mouth was drawn, and his cheek bones were prominent, like those of a skeleton, while his eyes were deeply sunk.

He was a terrible ruin.

So great was the impression produced upon the judges, upon the lawyers, and upon all who had known him and seen him only a few months before, cold and haughty, as well as fiercely energetic in his pursuit of crime, that they started to their feet. Some amoug the crowd bowed their heads as if a funeral were passing.

The President himself, who looked very little like a sentimental man, spoke in a somewhat unsteady voice to the jury.

" Gentlemen, Dr. d'Avrigny, who watches Monsieur de Villefort with admirable solicitude, accompanies 5 him. We are assured by this physician that this step will do the invalid no harm. Doctor, you see no reason to change this opinion ? "

"None whatever," answered the old doctor, in whose arms had died by poison, one after the other, every member of this family.

At a sign from the magistrate, he touched the arm of De Villefort and, saying a few words to him, they advanced into the room.

A hussar brought an arm-chair, amid profound silence.

The vailed lady half rose, and drawing close over her face the thick folds that covered it, gazed with eyes the fire of which penetrated the lace, at the man who had been so pitiless to all, and who had fallen so low that now every one pitied him.

Benedetto, who appeared to be violently agitated, extended his arms, and then sank down again on his seat, and covered his face with his hands.

" Monsieur de Villefort," began the President.

But the madman raised his hand, as if to demand silence.

Now, like a man* who awakens from a profound sleep, he looked around with his eyes opened unnaturally wide. Some strange wcrk was going on in his disordered brain.

Where was he ? All the surroundings were familiar. Opposite was the crucifix, and the form he had so repeatedly invoked when seeking to induce criminals to tell the truth. Under the crucifix sat the same judges, who had so often given the decisirns he desired,

THE WIFE OF MOVTE-C/. 7ST0. 35

and there was the same jury whom he had held breathless under the fire and force of his implacable arguments. And there, too, was the criminal.

It was all like a forgotten picture appearing under a slowly lifted vail.

The former Procureur de Roi rose suddenly to his feet, and extended his hand with the gesture he had formerly employed when, at the end of an argument, he uttered those words which caused a head to fall.

In this pantomime there was something sinister and solemn.

The snow was falling fast without, and dashing against the window panes. The light in the hall was peculiar, and Villefort looked like a spectre.

The President made another effort to control the emotion that choked his utterance.

"Do you understand me, Monsieur de Villefort?" he asked, at last, "and are you ready to answer the question I am about to address to you?

Villefort inclined his head.

" Yes," he said, in guttural tones.

" Benedetto," the President continued, turning to the accused as he spoke, "Benedetto, rise."

Benedetto obeyed.

" Look at Monsieur de Villefort, and speaking truthfully, say if you stand ready to repeat the statements made at the last session of the court."

Either a great transformation had taken place in the nature of Benedetto or he was a most able actor, for at these words the muscles of his face contracted and tears, real tears, rolled down his cheeks. He extended his clasped hands towards Monsieur de Ville* fort, and murmured, in a voice half choked by eonvnlsive utterance : " Pardon ! my father ! oh ! pardon ! "

** What is that man saying ? " asked Monsieur de Villefort, suddenly, in clear, steady tones, like those with which that room had been familiar from his lips in former days.

" He called you his father," answered the President. "Did you not yourself recognize him, and admit before a crowded audience that the accused was your son?"

Villefort passed his hand over his brow in a confused sort of way.

" My son ! And is he living ? Children were some times killed under my roof. No. My boy is dead."

" Do you remember the night of the 27th and 28th September, 1817 ! "

Monsiur de Villefort started.

" Yes, I remember. I killed him then."

" Not so. He escaped from you in the most miraculous manner. Do you not remember ? "

" No. It was not miraculous. I was struck by a dagger, and the assassin vanished. Oh ! I remember ! n

And Villefort laughed shrilly.

** And you admit this man to be your son ? "

"Son — Villefort's son? He has a right to the name> for he has been a forger and a murderer. It is just. I remember it all : the house at Auteuil, the red chamber, the napkin marked with an H and an N. I remember it all ! I admit it all ! The blood of the Villeforts runs in the veins of an assassin ! "

THE WIFE OF M OHTE-CRISTO. 3?

And looking at Benedetto, he said, as ha pointed at him with his long thin finger :

k* Yes you are my sou ! You have committed one murder. It will not be the last I "

Benedetto raised his head with an air of pride.

" You are mistaken, my father," he said, in clear, steady tones. I have certainly been a great criminal. Bat God himself enjoins repentance, and promises to forgive those who bow under his chastening hand. I ask and expect nothing from mankind. I know my fate. But now, while awaiting my sentence of death, I say loudly, in order that I may be heard by all, Monsieur de Villefort, I forgive you, and I ask God to be merciful unto you ! "

This romantic tirade was given with a solemnity and pathos that would have been creditable to the greatest artist.

44 1 forgive you," continued Benedetto, " as I forgive her whom I have never known. She was not your accomplice, perhaps, but she has been ashamed of me all this time."

A long shivering sigh broke the profound silence; the vailed woman pressed closer to the side of the man who accompanied her, while he, seizing both her hands in hk, held them tightly while he whispered in her ear, « Take care I "

This incident passed unobserved in the oonoentratioB of attention upon Benedetto, who continued with an air of excitement, and eyes uplifted to heaven :

**I forgive everybody, and ask only God's forgivenes* for myself.**

"Doctor," said the President, "you can take your patient away. It was necessary that he should be seen here by the jury, who must decide for themselves as to the degree of confidence to be accorded to the avowal of Monsieur de Villefort, and the declarations of the accused."

Then addressing the former magistrate, he said :

"If my words, Monsieur de Villefort, touch your heart, it may be that they will bring improvement to your sick soul. God has struck you through your family, and by depriving you of your reason, proves once more that crime, however hidden, is sooner or .ater disclosed."

Dr. D'Avrigny lightly touched the shoulder of his patient. " Come," he said.

But Villefort shook his head, and pushing back his chair he took two or three steps in the direction of his former seat. It seemed to him that this place was still his.

His substitute shrank back, almost as if he feared that he should be dispossessed by this living ghost ; at the same moment hastily laid his large hand upon a huge pile of papers. But Villefort stopped short and turned toward the jury.

His features had resumed all the magisterial rigidity whish had formerly characterized them.

;< Gentlemen of the jury," he said, in clear, ringing cones, "you have heard this man. You have heard the words of penitence he has uttered. He lies, gentlemen of the jury — he lies ! "

** Monsieur de Villefort ! " cried the President.

THE WIFE OF MON'TE-CRf STo. 39

£«t in* go on. I am mad, it is said, and it may be tL . they a^ right, for I hear strange noises, and my sig.«t is often obscured by a red mist ; but through this mist I sometimes see a light, as I do at this moment ; and by this light I read the soul of this man, who is my son, and whom I tried to murder."

The words of Monsieur de Villefort were so distinct and emphatic that it was impossible to doubt that he was restored to sanity, even if it were but for a brief period.

" I say again that this man has lied," he continued, raising his voice as if to be h*»ard in the remotest corner of the court-room. " No, he feels not the smallest repentance ! No, he never forgives ! No, he has no belief in a merciful God. This man is playing an infamous comedy. I know what I am saying. This man feels no remorse ; he thinks only of saving his head. Some one has suggested this course to him, and he is simply playing a part which he has carefully prepared. Gentlemen of the jury, take care. Your responsibility is enormous. When a tiger emerges from his lair, he must be shot through the heart without delay. This man is a human tiger. You have at your disposal, law and justice. Use them both. J, the father of this man, demand that you sentence him to ieath!"

There was a cry of horror from the audience. This father, mad though he were, asking for the death of his son, was a most terrible sight.

Villefort's insanity, moreover, was lost sight o£ and the people present thought of him only as another Brutal.

Villefort had uttered his last words, " demand that you sentence him to death," in a voice so sonorous, that its echo lingered several seconds. He waited until there was absolute silence, then, after bowing low to the Bench, left the court-room with the Doctor.

"Never was Villefort clearer-headed," whispered Beauchamp in the ear of Ch&teau-Renaud.

** Why does Madame Danglars seem to be so deeply interested in this reprobate ? " asked Chfiteau-Renaud, hastily.

"What I Is it really she?"

" She nearly fainted a few minutes ago. And, you remember, she did the same and worse at the last trial."

" Nerves, I suppose."

•* Heart, rather, I fancy.''

** Do you mean "

" That Cavalcanti was a very handsome fellow, and that Madame Danglars has never been looked upon as a paragon of virtue."

" Hush ! the Prooureur du Roi is about to speak. I am ready to wager that he won't be half as sensible as the madman."

THE WIFE OF MONTK-CRI8TO. 4\

CHAPTER in.

OH THE JOURNEY.

LOVE of contrasts is a strong characteristic in human nature.

The Procureur du Roi had been greatly irritated by the unexpected intrusion of Monsieur de Villefort, and but for the respect which he felt for the President, he would have protested violently against the deplorable weakness shown by the Bench in not ordering the madman to be at once removed. Therefore, in order to oppose Villefort and, perhaps, to give a lesson to the too complaisant magistrates, the Procureur showed himself as indulgent as possible to Benedetto, and reserved the thunders of his wrath for the unnatura. father.

Beauchamp again took occasion to ask his friend if it were not Villefort who was to be sentenced to death.

The vehement words of the madman had affected the audience very differently from what the Procureur would have expected, had he been in a state to reason calmly.

All the sympathy, all the pity was felt for Benedetto — for this victim of an infamous father, whose ferocious hatred pursued him to the scaffold.

Caderousse was of secondary importance. He was dead, to be sure, and he was run through the heart with a knife; but he was a small loss to society. Then, too, who could say that it was Benedetto, and not Villefort himself, who had committed the murder ?

" Let us not be carried away by pity," concluded the Frocureur, " for these unscrupulous men, who, soiling their judicial ermine by indulgence in criminal passions, sacrifice the honor of families and the lives of . the wretched children who are born to them ! "