The Count of Monte Cristo
father; my mother was at his feet, and I, childlike, amused myself by
playing with his long white beard which descended to his girdle, or
with the diamond-hilt of the scimitar attached to his girdle. Then from
time to time there came to him an Albanian who said something to which
I paid no attention, but which he always answered in the same tone of
voice, either ‘Kill,’ or ‘Pardon.’”
“It is very strange,” said Albert, “to hear such words proceed from the
mouth of anyone but an actress on the stage, and one needs constantly
to be saying to one’s self, ‘This is no fiction, it is all reality,’ in
order to believe it. And how does France appear in your eyes,
accustomed as they have been to gaze on such enchanted scenes?”
“I think it is a fine country,” said Haydée, “but I see France as it
really is, because I look on it with the eyes of a woman; whereas my
own country, which I can only judge of from the impression produced on
my childish mind, always seems enveloped in a vague atmosphere, which
is luminous or otherwise, according as my remembrances of it are sad or
joyous.”
“So young,” said Albert, forgetting at the moment the Count’s command
that he should ask no questions of the slave herself, “is it possible
that you can have known what suffering is except by name?”
Haydée turned her eyes towards Monte Cristo, who, making at the same
time some imperceptible sign, murmured:
“Εἰπέ—speak.”
“Nothing is ever so firmly impressed on the mind as the memory of our
early childhood, and with the exception of the two scenes I have just
described to you, all my earliest reminiscences are fraught with
deepest sadness.”
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“Speak, speak, signora,” said Albert, “I am listening with the most
intense delight and interest to all you say.”
Haydée answered his remark with a melancholy smile. “You wish me, then,
to relate the history of my past sorrows?” said she.
“I beg you to do so,” replied Albert.
“Well, I was but four years old when one night I was suddenly awakened
by my mother. We were in the palace of Yanina; she snatched me from the
cushions on which I was sleeping, and on opening my eyes I saw hers
filled with tears. She took me away without speaking. When I saw her
weeping I began to cry too. ‘Hush, child!’ said she. At other times in
spite of maternal endearments or threats, I had with a child’s caprice
been accustomed to indulge my feelings of sorrow or anger by crying as
much as I felt inclined; but on this occasion there was an intonation
of such extreme terror in my mother’s voice when she enjoined me to
silence, that I ceased crying as soon as her command was given. She
bore me rapidly away.
“I saw then that we were descending a large staircase; around us were
all my mother’s servants carrying trunks, bags, ornaments, jewels,
purses of gold, with which they were hurrying away in the greatest
distraction.
“Behind the women came a guard of twenty men armed with long guns and
pistols, and dressed in the costume which the Greeks have assumed since
they have again become a nation. You may imagine there was something
startling and ominous,” said Haydée, shaking her head and turning pale
at the mere remembrance of the scene, “in this long file of slaves and
women only half-aroused from sleep, or at least so they appeared to me,
who was myself scarcely awake. Here and there on the walls of the
staircase, were reflected gigantic shadows, which trembled in the
flickering light of the pine-torches till they seemed to reach to the
vaulted roof above.
“‘Quick!’ said a voice at the end of the gallery. This voice made
everyone bow before it, resembling in its effect the wind passing over
a field of wheat, by its superior strength forcing every ear to yield
obeisance. As for me, it made me tremble. This voice was that of my
father. He came last, clothed in his splendid robes and holding in his
hand the carbine which your emperor presented him. He was leaning on
the shoulder of his favorite Selim, and he drove us all before him, as
a shepherd would his straggling flock. My father,” said Haydée, raising
her head, “was that illustrious man known in Europe under the name of
Ali Tepelini, pasha of Yanina, and before whom Turkey trembled.”
Albert, without knowing why, started on hearing these words pronounced
with such a haughty and dignified accent; it appeared to him as if
there was something supernaturally gloomy and terrible in the
expression which gleamed from the brilliant eyes of Haydée at this
moment; she appeared like a Pythoness evoking a spectre, as she
recalled to his mind the remembrance of the fearful death of this man,
to the news of which all Europe had listened with horror.
“Soon,” said Haydée, “we halted on our march, and found ourselves on
the borders of a lake. My mother pressed me to her throbbing heart, and
at the distance of a few paces I saw my father, who was glancing
anxiously around. Four marble steps led down to the water’s edge, and
below them was a boat floating on the tide.
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“From where we stood I could see in the middle of the lake a large
blank mass; it was the kiosk to which we were going. This kiosk
appeared to me to be at a considerable distance, perhaps on account of
the darkness of the night, which prevented any object from being more
than partially discerned. We stepped into the boat. I remember well
that the oars made no noise whatever in striking the water, and when I
leaned over to ascertain the cause I saw that they were muffled with
the sashes of our Palikares.14 Besides the rowers, the boat contained
only the women, my father, mother, Selim, and myself. The Palikares had
remained on the shore of the lake, ready to cover our retreat; they
were kneeling on the lowest of the marble steps, and in that manner
intended making a rampart of the three others, in case of pursuit. Our
bark flew before the wind. ‘Why does the boat go so fast?’ asked I of
my mother.
“‘Silence, child! Hush, we are flying!’ I did not understand. Why
should my father fly?—he, the all-powerful—he, before whom others were
accustomed to fly—he, who had taken for his device,
‘They hate me; then they fear me!’
“It was, indeed, a flight which my father was trying to effect. I have
been told since that the garrison of the castle of Yanina, fatigued
with long service——”
Here Haydée cast a significant glance at Monte Cristo, whose eyes had
been riveted on her countenance during the whole course of her
narrative. The young girl then continued, speaking slowly, like a
person who is either inventing or suppressing some feature of the
history which he is relating.
“You were saying, signora,” said Albert, who was paying the most
implicit attention to the recital, “that the garrison of Yanina,
fatigued with long service——”
“Had treated with the Seraskier15 Kourchid, who had been sent by the
sultan to gain possession of the person of my father; it was then that
Ali Tepelini—after having sent to the sultan a French officer in whom
he reposed great confidence—resolved to retire to the asylum which he
had long before prepared for himself, and which he called
_kataphygion_, or the refuge.”
“And this officer,” asked Albert, “do you remember his name, signora?”
Monte Cristo exchanged a rapid glance with the young girl, which was
quite unperceived by Albert.
“No,” said she, “I do not remember it just at this moment; but if it
should occur to me presently, I will tell you.”
Albert was on the point of pronouncing his father’s name, when Monte
Cristo gently held up his finger in token of reproach; the young man
recollected his promise, and was silent.
“It was towards this kiosk that we were rowing. A ground floor,
ornamented with arabesques, bathing its terraces in the water, and
another floor, looking on the lake, was all which was visible to the
eye. But beneath the ground floor, stretching out into the island, was
a large subterranean cavern, to which my mother, myself, and the women
were conducted. In this place were together 60,000 pouches and 200
barrels; the pouches contained 25,000,000 of money in gold, and the
barrels were filled with 30,000 pounds of gunpowder.
“Near the barrels stood Selim, my father’s favorite, whom I mentioned
to you just now. He stood watch day and night with a lance provided
with a lighted slowmatch in his hand, and he had orders to blow up
everything—kiosk, guards, women, gold, and Ali Tepelini himself—at the
first signal given by my father. I remember well that the slaves,
convinced of the precarious tenure on which they held their lives,
passed whole days and nights in praying, crying, and groaning. As for
me, I can never forget the pale complexion and black eyes of the young
soldier, and whenever the angel of death summons me to another world, I
am quite sure I shall recognize Selim. I cannot tell you how long we
remained in this state; at that period I did not even know what time
meant. Sometimes, but very rarely, my father summoned me and my mother
to the terrace of the palace; these were hours of recreation for me, as
I never saw anything in the dismal cavern but the gloomy countenances
of the slaves and Selim’s fiery lance. My father was endeavoring to
pierce with his eager looks the remotest verge of the horizon,
examining attentively every black speck which appeared on the lake,
while my mother, reclining by his side, rested her head on his
shoulder, and I played at his feet, admiring everything I saw with that
unsophisticated innocence of childhood which throws a charm round
objects insignificant in themselves, but which in its eyes are invested
with the greatest importance. The heights of Pindus towered above us;
the castle of Yanina rose white and angular from the blue waters of the
lake, and the immense masses of black vegetation which, viewed in the
distance, gave the idea of lichens clinging to the rocks, were in
reality gigantic fir-trees and myrtles.
“One morning my father sent for us; my mother had been crying all the
night, and was very wretched; we found the pasha calm, but paler than
usual. ‘Take courage, Vasiliki,’ said he; ‘today arrives the firman of
the master, and my fate will be decided. If my pardon be complete, we
shall return triumphant to Yanina; if the news be inauspicious, we must
fly this night.’—‘But supposing our enemy should not allow us to do
so?’ said my mother. ‘Oh, make yourself easy on that head,’ said Ali,
smiling; ‘Selim and his flaming lance will settle that matter. They
would be glad to see me dead, but they would not like themselves to die
with me.’
“My mother only answered by sighs to consolations which she knew did
not come from my father’s heart. She prepared the iced water which he
was in the habit of constantly drinking,—for since his sojourn at the
kiosk he had been parched by the most violent fever,—after which she
anointed his white beard with perfumed oil, and lighted his chibouque,
which he sometimes smoked for hours together, quietly watching the
wreaths of vapor that ascended in spiral clouds and gradually melted
away in the surrounding atmosphere. Presently he made such a sudden
movement that I was paralyzed with fear. Then, without taking his eyes
from the object which had first attracted his attention, he asked for
his telescope. My mother gave it him, and as she did so, looked whiter
than the marble against which she leaned. I saw my father’s hand
tremble. ‘A boat!—two!—three!’ murmured my, father;—‘four!’ He then
arose, seizing his arms and priming his pistols. ‘Vasiliki,’ said he to
my mother, trembling perceptibly, ‘the instant approaches which will
decide everything. In the space of half an hour we shall know the
emperor’s answer. Go into the cavern with Haydée.’—‘I will not quit