Edmond Dantès
"Well, dear?" said Dantes, smiling at the warmth of his wife in his
behalf.
"But it is not 'well,' Edmond. I say no one is as disinterested as you."
"Ah! love, what of ambition?"
Mercedes smiled.
"Let me tell you all, love, and then you will not, I fear, think me
disinterested," said Dantes seriously. "I should blush, indeed, at
praise so little deserved. You know all my early history. I suffered--I
was wronged--I was revenged. But was I happy? I sought happiness. All
men do so, even the most miserable. Some seek happiness in gratified
ambition, some in gratified avarice, some in gratified vanity, and some
in the gratification of a dominant lust for pleasure or for power. I
sought happiness in gratified revenge!"
Mercedes shuddered, and, hiding her face on the bosom of her husband,
clung to it more closely as if for protection. Dantes drew her form to
his as he would have drawn that of a child, and continued:
"I sought happiness in vengeance for terrible wrongs, and to win it I
devoted a life and countless wealth. What was the result?
Misery!--misery!--misery!"
"Poor Edmond!" murmured Mercedes, clinging to him closer than ever.
"At length I awoke, as from a dream. I saw my error. My whole life had
been a lie. I saw that God by a miracle had bestowed on me untold riches
for a nobler purpose than to make his creatures wretched. I saw that if
I would be happy I must make others happy, and to this end--the
happiness, not the misery, of my race--must my wealth and power be
devoted. To this end, then, did I devote myself, and to this end, for
six years, have I been devoted--to make myself happy by making others
happy--you among the rest, dear, dear Mercedes," he added, pressing her
to his bosom. "And am I then so disinterested?"
"But why should you achieve triumphs for others to enjoy, Edmond?" asked
the wife.
"You refer to the Provisional Government," said Dantes with a smile.
"Well, I see I must tell you all, even though by the revelation I prove
myself utterly unworthy of the praise of disinterestedness. I may tell
you, love--you my second self--without danger of being charged with
egotism, what I might not say to others. Our friend Lamartine is the
actual head of this Government. I had but to assent to the urgent
entreaties to secure that position for myself. These appointments seem
the result of nomination by the people. Yet they are not!"
"And why did you refuse to head the Government, Edmond?"
"I am ashamed to confess to you that I feared to accept," said Dantes
after a pause. "My own selfishness, not, alas! my disinterestedness, has
kept me from the post of peril. Perhaps, indeed, I can do far more for
the cause of my race as I am than I could by sacrificing myself for
office and position; at least, I hope so."
"Is the position of your friends then so perilous?" asked Mercedes.
"Dearest, they stand upon a volcano!" said Dantes, solemnly.
"Ha!" cried the lady in alarm.
"Mercedes--Mercedes!" continued Dantes with enthusiasm, "I sometimes am
startled with the idea that to me have been entrusted the awful powers
of foreknowledge, of prophecy, so fearfully true have some of my
predictions proved! The events of the past week I foresaw and foretold,
even to minute circumstances and the hours of their occurrence. And
now--glorious as is the triumph that France and the cause of man have
achieved--I perceive in the dim future a sea of commotion! All is not
yet settled. Within one month, revolution will succeed revolution
throughout Europe! Berlin, Vienna, and Madrid, perhaps also St.
Petersburg, London, and all the cities of Italy, will be in revolt. All
Europe must and will feel the events of the past week in Paris. Europe
must be free!"
"And our friends--Lamartine--Louis Blanc?"
"Within six months Louis Blanc will be an exile, and Lamartine--he may
be in a dungeon or on a scaffold!"
"Ah!" exclaimed Mercedes, clinging yet more closely to her husband.
"But the cause of human happiness, human right and human freedom will
live forever! That must be, will be eternal--as eternal, my adored
Mercedes, as is our own deathless love!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
ESPERANCE AND ZULEIKA.
During the whole period of the memorable Revolution Zuleika never once
saw her brother, though she was burning with a desire to have an
interview with him on the subject that had caused the separation between
her young Italian lover and herself. Esperance made his home behind the
barricades, from the time the struggle began until the people finally
triumphed; gun in hand, he fought as heroically as the most devoted
workman, fearlessly exposing himself whenever the troops pressed his
comrades in arms and always in the thick of the fight. Begrimed with
dust and powder, his garments torn by bullets and bayonet thrusts, his
hat battered and rent, he encouraged the people by word and example,
constantly shouting "Vive la Republique," and contending for liberty
with the bravery of a lion and a persistency that never flagged. He,
however, escaped without a single scratch, returning to the paternal
mansion utterly worn out, but altogether unhurt, proud of having done
his duty as a man and a patriot, and of having sustained the glorious
cause for which his father was working heart and soul.
As he was slowly and wearily wending his way homeward, he suddenly
encountered M. Dantes and his friend Lamartine in the Rue Richelieu; his
gun was on his shoulder, and in his tattered attire, with the dust and
powder on his face and hands, he had the exact appearance of an
insurrectionist and a barricader. He touched his hat in military fashion
to M. Dantes and his illustrious companion, and was about passing on
when his father recognized him and, ragged and begrimed as he was, threw
his arms enthusiastically about his neck. M. Lamartine watched the
Deputy from Marseilles and could not restrain an expression of
astonishment at his singular behavior. M. Dantes smiled and, taking
Esperance by the hand, said:
"M. Lamartine, you will, I know, make every allowance for me when you
learn that this young man, who has been fighting behind the barricades
with the people, is my son!"
The head of the Provisional Government instantly grew as enthusiastic as
M. Dantes himself; he grasped Esperance's free hand and, shaking it with
the utmost cordiality, exclaimed:
"Your son, M. Dantes! Let me congratulate you! Why he is a perfect
hero!"
"I have but followed my father's teachings and done what he would have
done had he been my age and unable to serve the great cause of human
freedom in a more effective way!"
M. Dantes' eyes sparkled with joy and a faint shade of color appeared
upon his pale cheeks.
"What is your name, young patriot?" asked M. Lamartine, his excitement
and enthusiasm continuing to hold possession of him.
"Esperance," was the reply.
"Esperance--hope--the name is both appropriate and auspicious; with such
heroic young men as you fighting for our cause there is, indeed, hope,
and of the brightest and best kind!" cried Lamartine.
"Nay, nay," said M. Dantes, "do not flatter the boy; he has but done his
duty."
"Believe me, I do not flatter him," returned Lamartine; "I have simply
told him the truth; in time he will rival the devotion and achievements
of his noble father!"
"Enough, enough," said the Deputy, modestly; "we deserve only the credit
of executing God's will--we are merely instruments in His omnipotent
hand!" he added, impressively.
"And such instruments are exactly what we need in the present crisis.
God grant us plenty of them!"
The next morning Zuleika encountered Esperance on the stairway; she led
him into the salon, and, when they were seated, said:
"My brother, I have a question to ask of you."
A shadow crossed the young man's brow, and he quickly asked:
"Is it about the Viscount Massetti?"
"Yes."
"Then I must refuse to answer!"
"But the matter concerns my happiness, nay, my very life itself; think
of that before you finally refuse to answer my question!"
Esperance hastily and excitedly arose from his chair and stood in front
of his sister.
"Zuleika," said he, in an agitated tone, "beware of that man--beware of
Giovanni Massetti!"
"Beware of Giovanni, Esperance--and why?"
The young man began to pace the salon with short and nervous steps; his
hands twitched convulsively, and his face had suddenly assumed the
whiteness of chalk.
"Zuleika, Zuleika," he murmured, "I cannot, I cannot tell you why! It
would crash you to the very earth and make you blush with shame that you
had ever listened to the seductive tones of that doubly false Italian's
voice!"
"But, Esperance," said Zuleika, "papa certainly knows all about
Giovanni; if he did not altogether approve of his character and conduct,
he would never have consented to admit him as a suitor for my hand!"
"A suitor for your hand, Zuleika! My God! has he then dared----"
"He has done nothing that an upright and honorable man should not do!"
interrupted Zuleika, warmly. "He did not even call here until he had
written to papa and obtained his full permission to do so."
"Zuleika," said Esperance, approaching his sister and taking her hand,
"no doubt Giovanni Massetti has conducted himself in all respects
toward you like a perfect gentleman, but, nevertheless, he is not fit to
be my sister's husband."
"But papa----"
"Has been deceived, as have many others, in regard to the true character
and standing of this so-called Roman nobleman."
"And is he not a nobleman?"
"Once more I must refuse to answer any question in regard to him. I can
only tell you to beware and shun him as you would a venomous serpent."
"Esperance, I love him!"
"Love him!--you love him, Zuleika! Oh! this is, indeed, torture!"
The young man dropped his sister's hand and flung himself upon a divan.
He was a prey to the most intense excitement.
Zuleika, deeply affected to see him thus, and remembering Giovanni's
mysterious behavior, together with his strange and ominous words, when
she had questioned him in regard to his quarrel with Esperance, felt for
a moment shaken and uncertain. She also recollected that, at the time of
the inexplicable difficulty between the two young men, she had heard
rumors to the effect that a youthful member of the Roman aristocracy had
abducted a beautiful peasant girl, in which affair he had been assisted
by the notorious brigand Luigi Vampa; the matter, however, had almost
immediately been hushed up and she had learned none of the
circumstances. Could it be possible that Giovanni Massetti was the
youthful aristocrat alluded to by the gossips and scandalmongers of the
Eternal City--that he was the abductor of the unfortunate peasant girl?
She could not entertain such an idea, and yet that abduction, in spite
of all her efforts, would associate itself with her Italian lover in her
mind.
She arose from her chair and, going to the divan, seated herself beside
Esperance, determined to make a final attempt to draw his secret from
him. Throwing her arms tenderly about his neck she said, in a coaxing
tone:
"If any sound reason exists why I should not love Giovanni Massetti, and
you know it, your plain duty as my brother is to tell me. Will you not
tell me, Esperance?"
Instead of replying, the young man buried his face in his hands and
fairly sobbed in his anguish. Zuleika was filled with pity for him, and,
as she gazed at him, tears came into her eyes; but still bent on
discovering the nature of the obstacle that had so suddenly loomed up
between Giovanni and herself, she continued after a pause, in the same
coaxing voice:
"Esperance, I am no longer a child and should not be treated as one.
What I ask of you is only reasonable and just. If I stand on the brink