Monte-Cristo's Daughter
Esperance and Zuleika as reminders of a happy, but all too brief dream,
an elfin vision of enchantment that had vanished as swiftly as it had
come. But his son and daughter had twined themselves about the fibres of
his heart as the clinging ivy twines about the shattered fragments of
some grand and imposing ruin, and each day, each moment, as it sped by,
only served the more to reveal to him the longings and the devotion of a
father's soul. Besides, Albert de Morcerf and his young wife Eugenie
were now thoroughly endeared to him, and he felt that by doing
everything in his power to augment their happiness he was gradually
paying off the heavy debt he owed to Danglars' so long abandoned child.
Yes, the Count of Monte-Cristo wished to live, first for his family,
then for the great cause of human liberty with which he had become so
thoroughly identified. If Danglars came in his way he would endeavor to
reclaim and propitiate him, but he could not seek him out.
Mercedes at the period of the attempted robbery was absent on a visit to
some friends in Marseilles, and by common consent it was resolved not to
inform her of Danglars' reappearance, as the intelligence could not fail
to be a prostrating shock to her.
Ever since that memorable midnight scene in Monte-Cristo's study young
Madame de Morcerf had acted like one overwhelmed. She said nothing, even
to her husband or Louise d' Armilly, concerning her wretched father, but
it was plain that intense grief and shame were preying upon her. This
greatly distressed Albert and, seeing his beloved wife droop day by day,
he, without saying a word to any one, formed a startling and perilous
resolution. He determined to find Danglars' abode, to see his
father-in-law and endeavor to persuade him to relinquish his career of
crime. In this he was actuated by two powerful motives--the desire to
relieve Eugenie's distress and suspense and the wish to avoid the
scandal that would be sure to come should the former banker be caught
red-handed in the commission of some fearful crime and a legal
investigation reveal his identity.
Zuleika studiously avoided referring to the attempted robbery and the
recognition of Danglars by her father and Eugenie. She was aware of the
part Monte-Cristo had played in his enemy's fall and disgrace, and did
not deem it prudent to awaken the bitter recollections of the lurid and
dreadful past.
Mlle. d' Armilly also said nothing in reference to the reappearance of
Danglars, but it was very clear to the observant Zuleika that she
expected and dreaded further harm from Monte-Cristo's revengeful enemy.
At night she locked herself in her chamber, and, notwithstanding the
almost unbearable heat of the weather, securely closed and fastened all
her windows.
The Count himself was as reserved as ever, never once mentioning either
the midnight invasion of his mansion or the unexpected advent of his
most deadly foe. To everybody in the household he seemed either to have
forgotten or to have succeeded in dismissing from his mind those events
so fraught with excitement and possibilities of future disaster. But
Monte-Cristo, though he preserved an impassible exterior, had neither
forgotten nor dismissed them. He had simply applied to himself his own
famous maxim, "Wait and Hope." He was waiting and hoping for the best,
for God in His inscrutable wisdom to bring mysterious good out of
apparent evil.
Meanwhile Captain de Morcerf had been busily engaged in making thorough
but cautious investigations. He had formed the acquaintance of a former
Agent de la Surete, who had been of great use to him in describing the
various outlaws and prowlers of Paris, and in pointing out to him their
secret dens and the secluded places of rendezvous where they met, drank
vile liquors, and, under the maddening influence of absinthe and
alcohol, plotted their crimes and atrocities of every description. This
man, another Quasimodo in point of hideous aspect, had been dismissed
from the detective service because of his inability to keep sober, but
he had not forgotten the resources of his profession, and money lavishly
bestowed upon him made him Captain de Morcerf's most obedient and
faithful slave. Cash in hand rendered him indefatigable and the prospect
of obtaining more kept him discreet. He had taught his employer the art
of effectually disguising himself, of passing for a veritable zigue,
and, as he was well-known to the desperadoes he had formerly shadowed
and was welcomed by them as a sterling good fellow, he was enabled to
take the Captain with impunity among scoundrels who would not have
hesitated to cut his throat had they known who he was.
As Albert did not know what name Danglars had assumed and was unwilling
to give the ex-detective his true cognomen, the latter had nothing to
guide him in this respect. Neither was the Captain cognizant of the
changes that time and his mode of life had wrought in the former
banker's personal appearance, so he could only describe him as he had
looked in the years gone by. This afforded Mange, such was the name of
the dismissed policeman, no indication whatever by which he could
profit. He, nevertheless, was not disconcerted by the paucity of
information. He knew that young Morcerf was searching for a man who had
been one of the party engaged in the attempt to rob the Monte-Cristo
mansion on the Rue du Helder, and that knowledge was sufficient for him.
He very soon discovered that Waldmann, Siebecker, Bouche-de-Miel and two
Italians had formed that party, and Bouche-de-Miel being the only
Frenchman in the coterie he had no difficulty whatever in fixing upon
him as the individual wanted. He imparted his discovery and conclusion
to his employer, together with the intelligence that the men were in the
habit of congregating in the little caboulot of the Cite d' Antin.
Albert rewarded Mange liberally for his zeal and promised him a very
much larger sum should Bouche-de-Miel turn out to be his man. It was
immediately arranged that Mange should conduct the Captain to the
caboulot that very night and, if possible, bring him face to face with
the Frenchman supposed to be Danglars.
In accordance with this agreement, as soon as night had fallen, Mange
was waiting for his employer at the corner of the Rue Taitbout and the
Rue de Provence. He was not kept long at his post, for Albert speedily
made his appearance, dressed in a blouse like a workman; his rough
trousers were tucked in the tops of his dusty boots and on his head he
wore a battered slouch hat that looked as if it might have seen service
behind the revolutionary barricades. Mange surveyed him with a long
glance of admiration; then taking him to a neighboring street lamp, he
critically examined his face, which was stained to represent the
bronzing effect of the sun and smeared with dirt.
"Capital!" exclaimed the ex-detective, as he finished his scrutiny. "You
are a zigue out and out! Not a trace of the boulevardier to be seen! The
most keen-scented vache in the caboulot would be completely deceived!"
Albert smiled at his companion's enthusiasm.
"Well, as I pass examination," he said, "let us go on at once. Do you
think our man will be at the caboulot?"
"Do I think water will run down hill!" cried Mange, with a laugh that
resembled nothing so much as the discordant croak of a crow. "He never
misses a night, and this is the hour when the brandy begins to flow!"
Albert shuddered at this remark, suggesting as it did the certainty that
he would find Eugenie's father a sot as well as a thief. He, however,
took Mange's arm and together they strolled leisurely into the Cite d'
Antin, making their way to the caboulot without meeting a single
suspicious prowler.
They entered the front room where Bouche-de-Miel had found the
slatternly young woman reading her greasy copy of the Gazette des
Tribunaux on the morning preceding the attempted robbery. She was at her
accustomed place behind the counter, but was not reading; eight or ten
stalwart ruffians monopolized her attention and, as she furnished her
thirsty customers with the various fiery beverages they demanded, she
showered her most captivating glances right and left among them. She was
as slatternly as ever, but her hair was shining with bear's grease and a
strong odor of musk pervaded her garments; a paste diamond of enormous
size but of doubtful brilliancy ornamented her breastpin and on her
stumpy, grimy fingers were numerous brass rings containing dull
imitations of rubies, amethysts and topazes.
As the new comers came in, Waldmann, standing in front of the counter
with a bottle in one hand and a glass in the other, was chaffing her.
"See here, Beurre-Sans-Sel," he said, with a well-counterfeited air of
intense admiration, "you are looking like a real beauty to-night. I will
wager anything you expect a lover. I never saw you put on such style
before. I declare you far outshine the demoiselles of the public balls!"
"Oh! Monsieur Waldmann, how you talk!" returned the girl, with an
affected simper and an unsuccessful attempt to blush.
Just then the German looked around and caught sight of Mange, who was
looking his ugliest. The spirit of mischief was strong upon him and he
instantly cried out:
"I knew it; I knew you were expecting a lover and here he is promptly on
time! Come now own up, my little Beurre-Sans-Sel, did you not put on all
your pretty fixings for Mange?"
"For that ugly old gorilla!" exclaimed the girl, unceremoniously and
disdainfully. "I can get better-looking lovers than either a monkey or a
Swab, I'd have you to know, Monsieur Waldmann!"
There was a general laugh at this sally, and none laughed louder than
Mange, who had a taste for coarse jokes and sharp retorts.
"So!" said Waldmann, after the merriment had subsided. Then he perceived
Mange's companion for the first time. He examined him closely and
suspiciously. Albert did not shrink from his scrutiny, but the
ex-detective deemed it prudent to set matters right at the start by a
formal introduction of his employer; he, therefore, motioned to Albert
to follow him and walked up to the German, offering him his hand, which
the latter shook cordially.
The Captain now stood beside Waldmann in front of the counter and Mange
presented him without delay.
"Monsieur Waldmann," said he, "permit me to make you acquainted with my
friend Fouquier, from Dijon, a bon zigue."
"Monsieur Fouquier," said the German, taking Albert's outstretched hand,
"I am glad to know you, especially as you come so well recommended."
Mange bowed in acknowledgment of this little tribute to himself.
Morcerf replied that the pleasure was mutual.
Waldmann's suspicions seemed to be allayed.
"Take something," he said. "Here, Siebecker and Bouche-de-Miel, join us
in drinking the health of Monsieur Fouquier from Dijon!"
Albert was instantly on the alert and Mange watched him attentively as
the two individuals named emerged from a corner of the room and lounged
up to the counter. There was another presentation, a double one this
time, Waldmann doing the honors. Mange required no introduction.
Everybody appeared to know him. Beurre-Sans-Sel put forth brandy and
glasses, and the health of Monsieur Fouquier was drunk enthusiastically.
When this ceremony ended Morcerf called for cigarettes and distributed
them among the coterie; then he had leisure to examine Bouche-de-Miel;
the latter had turned his back to the counter and leaned his elbows upon
it; in this position, with his cigarette between his teeth, he looked
the perfect picture of vagabondish idleness. Mange was still watching
Morcerf, but saw no sign that he had recognized in Bouche-de-Miel the
man for whom he was seeking. This made him uneasy, for it was an