WHEN ALBERT found himself alone with Monte Cristo, "My dear count," said he, "allow me to commence my services as cicerone by showing you a specimen of a bachelor's apartment. You, who are accustomed to the palaces of Italy, can amuse yourself by calculating in how many square feet a young man who is not the worst lodged in Paris can live. As we pass from one room to another, I will open the windows to let you breathe." Monte Cristo had already seen the breakfast-room and the salon on the ground-floor. Albert led him first to his atelier, which was, as we have said, his favorite apartment. Monte Cristo quickly appreciated all that Albert had collected here--old cabinets, Japanese porcelain, Oriental stuffs, Venetian glass, arms from all parts of the world--everything was familiar to him; and at the first glance he recognized their date, their country, and their origin. Morcerf had expected he should be the guide; on the contrary, it was he who, under the count's guidance, followed a course of arch?ology, mineralogy, and natural history. They descended to the first floor; Albert led his guest into the salon. The salon was filled with the works of modern artists; there were landscapes by Dupré, with their long reeds and tall trees, their lowing oxen and marvellous skies; Delacroix's Arabian cavaliers, with their long white burnouses, their shining belts, their damasked arms, their horses, who tore each other with their teeth while their riders contended fiercely with their maces; aquarelles of Boulanger, representing N?tre Dame de Paris with that vigor that makes the artist the rival of the poet; there were paintings by Diaz, who makes his flowers more beautiful than flowers, his suns more brilliant than the sun; designs by Decamp, as vividly colored as those of Salvator Rosa, but more poetic; pastels by Giraud and Muller, representing children like angels and women with the features of a virgin; sketches torn from the album of Dauzats' "Travels in the East," that had been made in a few seconds on the saddle of a camel, or beneath the dome of a mosque--in a word, all that modern art can give in exchange and as recompense for the art lost and gone with ages long since past.
Albert expected to have something new this time to show to the traveller, but, to his great surprise, the latter, without seeking for the signatures, many of which, indeed, were only initials, named instantly the author of every picture in such a manner that it was easy to see that each name was not only known to him, but that each style associated with it had been appreciated and studied by him. From the salon they passed into the bed-chamber; it was a model of taste and simple elegance. A single portrait, signed by Leopold Robert, shone in its carved and gilded frame. This portrait attracted the Count of Monte Cristo's attention, for he made three rapid steps in the chamber, and stopped suddenly before it. It was the portrait of a young woman of five or six and twenty, with a dark complexion, and light and lustrous eyes, veiled beneath long lashes. She wore the picturesque costume of the Catalan fisherwomen, a red and black bodice, and golden pins in her hair. She was looking at the sea, and her form was outlined on the blue ocean and sky. The light was so faint in the room that Albert did not perceive the pallor that spread itself over the count's visage, or the nervous heaving of his chest and shoulders. Silence prevailed for an instant, during which Monte Cristo gazed intently on the picture.
"You have there a most charming mistress, viscount," said the count in a perfectly calm tone; "and this costume--a ball costume, doubtless--becomes her admirably."
"Ah, monsieur," returned Albert, "I would never forgive you this mistake if you had seen another picture beside this. You do not know my mother; she it is whom you see here. She had her portrait painted thus six or eight years ago. This costume is a fancy one, it appears, and the resemblance is so great that I think I still see my mother the same as she was in 1830. The countess had this portrait painted during the count's absence. She doubtless intended giving him an agreeable surprise; but, strange to say, this portrait seemed to displease my father, and the value of the picture, which is, as you see, one of the best works of Leopold Robert, could not overcome his dislike to it. It is true, between ourselves, that M. de Morcerf is one of the most assiduous peers at the Luxembourg, a general renowned for theory, but a most mediocre amateur of art. It is different with my mother, who paints exceedingly well, and who, unwilling to part with so valuable a picture, gave it to me to put here, where it would be less likely to displease M. de Morcerf, whose portrait, by Gros, I will also show you. Excuse my talking of family matters, but as I shall have the honor of introducing you to the count, I tell you this to prevent you making any allusions to this picture. The picture seems to have a malign influence, for my mother rarely comes here without looking at it, and still more rarely does she look at it without weeping. This disagreement is the only one that has ever taken place between the count and countess, who are still as much united, although married more than twenty years, as on the first day of their wedding."
Monte Cristo glanced rapidly at Albert, as if to seek a hidden meaning in his words, but it was evident the young man uttered them in the simplicity of his heart. "Now," said Albert, "that you have seen all my treasures, allow me to offer them to you, unworthy as they are. Consider yourself as in your own house, and to put yourself still more at your ease, pray accompany me to the apartments of M. de Morcerf, he whom I wrote from Rome an account of the services you rendered me, and to whom I announced your promised visit, and I may say that both the count and countess anxiously desire to thank you in person. You are somewhat blase I know, and family scenes have not much effect on Sinbad the Sailor, who has seen so many others. However, accept what I propose to you as an initiation into Parisian life--a life of politeness, visiting, and introductions." Monte Cristo bowed without making any answer; he accepted the offer without enthusiasm and without regret, as one of those conventions of society which every gentleman looks upon as a duty. Albert summoned his servant, and ordered him to acquaint M. and Madame de Morcerf of the arrival of the Count of Monte Cristo. Albert followed him with the count. When they arrived at the ante-chamber, above the door was visible a shield, which, by its rich ornaments and its harmony with the rest of the furniture, indicated the importance the owner attached to this blazon. Monte Cristo stopped and examined it attentively.
"Azure seven merlets, or, placed bender," said he. "These are, doubtless, your family arms? Except the knowledge of blazons, that enables me to decipher them, I am very ignorant of heraldry--I, a count of a fresh creation, fabricated in Tuscany by the aid of a commandery of St. Stephen, and who would not have taken the trouble had I not been told that when you travel much it is necessary. Besides, you must have something on the panels of your carriage, to escape being searched by the custom-house officers. Excuse my putting such a question to you."
"It is not indiscreet," returned Morcerf, with the simplicity of conviction. "You have guessed rightly. These are our arms, that is, those of my father, but they are, as you see, joined to another shield, which has gules, a silver tower, which are my mother's. By her side I am Spanish, but the family of Morcerf is French, and, I have heard, one of the oldest of the south of France."
"Yes," replied Monte Cristo "these blazons prove that. Almost all the armed pilgrims that went to the Holy Land took for their arms either a cross, in honor of their mission, or birds of passage, in sign of the long voyage they were about to undertake, and which they hoped to accomplish on the wings of faith. One of your ancestors had joined the Crusades, and supposing it to be only that of St. Louis, that makes you mount to the thirteenth century, which is tolerably ancient."
"It is possible," said Morcerf; "my father has in his study a genealogical tree which will tell you all that, and on which I made commentaries that would have greatly edified Hozier and Jaucourt. At present I no longer think of it, and yet I must tell you that we are beginning to occupy ourselves greatly with these things under our popular government."
"Well, then, your government would do well to choose from the past something better than the things that I have noticed on your monuments, and which have no heraldic meaning whatever. As for you, viscount," continued Monte Cristo to Morcerf, "you are more fortunate than the government, for your arms are really beautiful, and speak to the imagination. Yes, you are at once from Provence and Spain; that explains, if the portrait you showed me be like, the dark hue I so much admired on the visage of the noble Catalan." It would have required the penetration of Oedipus or the Sphinx to have divined the irony the count concealed beneath these words, apparently uttered with the greatest politeness. Morcerf thanked him with a smile, and pushed open the door above which were his arms, and which, as we have said, opened into the salon. In the most conspicuous part of the salon was another portrait. It was that of a man, from five to eight and thirty, in the uniform of a general officer, wearing the double epaulet of heavy bullion, that indicates superior rank, the ribbon of the Legion of Honor around his neck, which showed he was a commander, and on the right breast, the star of a grand officer of the order of the Saviour, and on the left that of the grand cross of Charles III., which proved that the person represented by the picture had served in the wars of Greece and Spain, or, what was just the same thing as regarded decorations, had fulfilled some diplomatic mission in the two countries.
Monte Cristo was engaged in examining this portrait with no less care than he had bestowed upon the other, when another door opened, and he found himself opposite to the Count of Morcerf in person. He was a man of forty to forty-five years, but he seemed at least fifty, and his black mustache and eyebrows contrasted strangely with his almost white hair, which was cut short, in the military fashion. He was dressed in plain clothes, and wore at his button-hole the ribbons of the different orders to which he belonged. He entered with a tolerably dignified step, and some little haste. Monte Cristo saw him advance towards him without making a single step. It seemed as if his feet were rooted to the ground, and his eyes on the Count of Morcerf. "Father," said the young man, "I have the honor of presenting to you the Count of Monte Cristo, the generous friend whom I had the good fortune to meet in the critical situation of which I have told you."
"You are most welcome, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf, saluting Monte Cristo with a smile, "and monsieur has rendered our house, in preserving its only heir, a service which insures him our eternal gratitude." As he said these words, the count of Morcerf pointed to a chair, while he seated himself in another opposite the window.
Monte Cristo, in taking the seat Morcerf offered him, placed himself in such a manner as to remain concealed in the shadow of the large velvet curtains, and read on the careworn and livid features of the count a whole history of secret griefs written in each wrinkle time had planted there. "The countess," said Morcerf, "was at her toilet when she was informed of the visit she was about to receive. She will, however, be in the salon in ten minutes."
"It is a great honor to me," returned Monte Cristo, "to be thus, on the first day of my arrival in Paris, brought in contact with a man whose merit equals his reputation, and to whom fortune has for once been equitable, but has she not still on the plains of Metidja, or in the mountains of Atlas, a marshal's staff to offer you?"
"Oh," replied Morcerf, reddening slightly, "I have left the service, monsieur. Made a peer at the Restoration, I served through the first campaign under the orders of Marshal Bourmont. I could, therefore, expect a higher rank, and who knows what might have happened had the elder branch remained on the throne? But the Revolution of July was, it seems, sufficiently glorious to allow itself to be ungrateful, and it was so for all services that did not date from the imperial period. I tendered my resignation, for when you have gained your epaulets on the battle-field, you do not know how to manoeuvre on the slippery grounds of the salons. I have hung up my sword, and cast myself into politics. I have devoted myself to industry; I study the useful arts. During the twenty years I served, I often wished to do so, but I had not the time."
"These are the ideas that render your nation superior to any other," returned Monte Cristo. "A gentleman of high birth, possessor of an ample fortune, you have consented to gain your promotion as an obscure soldier, step by step--this is uncommon; then become general, peer of France, commander of the Legion of Honor, you consent to again commence a second apprenticeship, without any other hope or any other desire than that of one day becoming useful to your fellow-creatures; this, indeed, is praiseworthy,--nay, more, it is sublime." Albert looked on and listened with astonishment; he was not used to see Monte Cristo give vent to such bursts of enthusiasm. "Alas," continued the stranger, doubtless to dispel the slight cloud that covered Morcerf's brow, "we do not act thus in Italy; we grow according to our race and our species, and we pursue the same lines, and often the same uselessness, all our lives."
"But, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf, "for a man of your merit, Italy is not a country, and France opens her arms to receive you; respond to her call. France will not, perhaps, be always ungrateful. She treats her children ill, but she always welcomes strangers."
"Ah, father," said Albert with a smile, "it is evident you do not know the Count of Monte Cristo; he despises all honors, and contents himself with those written on his passport."
"That is the most just remark," replied the stranger, "I ever heard made concerning myself."
"You have been free to choose your career," observed the Count of Morcerf, with a sigh; "and you have chosen the path strewed with flowers."
"Precisely, monsieur," replied Monte Cristo with one of those smiles that a painter could never represent or a physiologist analyze.
"If I did not fear to fatigue you," said the general, evidently charmed with the count's manners, "I would have taken you to the Chamber; there is a debate very curious to those who are strangers to our modern senators."
"I shall be most grateful, monsieur, if you will, at some future time, renew your offer, but I have been flattered with the hope of being introduced to the countess, and I will therefore wait."
"Ah, here is my mother," cried the viscount. Monte Cristo, turned round hastily, and saw Madame de Morcerf at the entrance of the salon, at the door opposite to that by which her husband had entered, pale and motionless; when Monte Cristo turned round, she let fall her arm, which for some unknown reason had been resting on the gilded door-post. She had been there some moments, and had heard the last words of the visitor. The latter rose and bowed to the countess, who inclined herself without speaking. "Ah, good heavens, madame," said the count, "are you ill, or is it the heat of the room that affects you?"
"Are you ill, mother?" cried the viscount, springing towards her.
She thanked them both with a smile. "No," returned she, "but I feel some emotion on seeing, for the first time, the man without whose intervention we should have been in tears and desolation. Monsieur," continued the countess, advancing with the majesty of a queen, "I owe to you the life of my son, and for this I bless you. Now, I thank you for the pleasure you give me in thus affording me the opportunity of thanking you as I have blessed you, from the bottom of my heart." The count bowed again, but lower than before; He was even paler than Mercédès. "Madame," said he, "the count and yourself recompense too generously a simple action. To save a man, to spare a father's feelings, or a mother's sensibility, is not to do a good action, but a simple deed of humanity." At these words, uttered with the most exquisite sweetness and politeness, Madame de Morcerf replied. "It is very fortunate for my son, monsieur, that he found such a friend, and I thank God that things are thus." And Mercédès raised her fine eyes to heaven with so fervent an expression of gratitude, that the count fancied he saw tears in them. M. de Morcerf approached her. "Madame," said he. "I have already made my excuses to the count for quitting him, and I pray you to do so also. The sitting commences at two; it is now three, and I am to speak."
"Go, then, and monsieur and I will strive our best to forget your absence," replied the countess, with the same tone of deep feeling. "Monsieur," continued she, turning to Monte Cristo, "will you do us the honor of passing the rest of the day with us?"
"Believe me, madame, I feel most grateful for your kindness, but I got out of my travelling carriage at your door this morning, and I am ignorant how I am installed in Paris, which I scarcely know; this is but a trifling inquietude, I know, but one that may be appreciated."
"We shall have the pleasure another time," said the countess; "you promise that?" Monte Cristo inclined himself without answering, but the gesture might pass for assent. "I will not detain you, monsieur," continued the countess; "I would not have our gratitude become indiscreet or importunate."
"My dear Count," said Albert, "I will endeavor to return your politeness at Rome, and place my coupé at your disposal until your own be ready."
"A thousand thanks for your kindness, viscount," returned the Count of Monte Cristo "but I suppose that M. Bertuccio has suitably employed the four hours and a half I have given him, and that I shall find a carriage of some sort ready at the door." Albert was used to the count's manner of proceeding; he knew that, like Nero, he was in search of the impossible, and nothing astonished him, but wishing to judge with his own eyes how far the count's orders had been executed, he accompanied him to the door of the house. Monte Cristo was not deceived. As soon as he appeared in the Count of Morcerf's ante-chamber, a footman, the same who at Rome had brought the count's card to the two young men, and announced his visit, sprang into the vestibule, and when he arrived at the door the illustrious traveller found his carriage awaiting him. It was a coupé of Koller's building, and with horses and harness for which Drake had, to the knowledge of all the lions of Paris, refused on the previous day seven hundred guineas. "Monsieur," said the count to Albert, "I do not ask you to accompany me to my house, as I can only show you a habitation fitted up in a hurry, and I have, as you know, a reputation to keep up as regards not being taken by surprise. Give me, therefore, one more day before I invite you; I shall then be certain not to fail in my hospitality."
"If you ask me for a day, count, I know what to anticipate; it will not be a house I shall see, but a palace. You have decidedly some genius at your control."
"Ma foi! spread that idea," replied the Count of Monte Cristo, putting his foot on the velvet-lined steps of his splendid carriage, "and that will be worth something to me among the ladies." As he spoke, he sprang into the vehicle, the door was closed, but not so rapidly that Monte Cristo failed to perceive the almost imperceptible movement which stirred the curtains of the apartment in which he had left Madame de Morcerf. When Albert returned to his mother, he found her in the boudoir reclining in a large velvet arm-chair, the whole room so obscure that only the shining spangle, fastened here and there to the drapery, and the angles of the gilded frames of the pictures, showed with some degree of brightness in the gloom. Albert could not see the face of the countess, as it was covered with a thin veil she had put on her head, and which fell over her features in misty folds, but it seemed to him as though her voice had altered. He could distinguish amid the perfumes of the roses and heliotropes in the flower-stands, the sharp and fragrant odor of volatile salts, and he noticed in one of the chased cups on the mantle-piece the countess's smelling-bottle, taken from its shagreen case, and exclaimed in a tone of uneasiness, as he entered,--"My dear mother, have you been ill during my absence?"
"No, no, Albert, but you know these roses, tuberoses, and orange-flowers throw out at first, before one is used to them, such violent perfumes."
"Then, my dear mother," said Albert, putting his hand to the bell, "they must be taken into the ante-chamber. You are really ill, and just now were so pale as you came into the room"--
"Was I pale, Albert?"
"Yes; a pallor that suits you admirably, mother, but which did not the less alarm my father and myself."
"Did your father speak of it?" inquired Mercédès eagerly.
"No, madame; but do you not remember that he spoke of the fact to you?"
"Yes, I do remember," replied the countess. A servant entered, summoned by Albert's ring of the bell. "Take these flowers into the anteroom or dressing-room," said the viscount; "they make the countess ill." The footman obeyed his orders. A long pause ensued, which lasted until all the flowers were removed. "What is this name of Monte Cristo?" inquired the countess, when the servant had taken away the last vase of flowers, "is it a family name, or the name of the estate, or a simple title?"
"I believe, mother, it is merely a title. The count purchased an island in the Tuscan archipelago, and, as he told you to-day, has founded a commandery. You know the same thing was done for Saint Stephen of Florence, Saint George, Constantinian of Parma, and even for the Order of Malta. Except this, he has no pretension to nobility, and calls himself a chance count, although the general opinion at Rome is that the count is a man of very high distinction."
"His manners are admirable," said the countess, "at least, as far as I could judge in the few minutes he remained here."
"They are perfect mother, so perfect, that they surpass by far all I have known in the leading aristocracy of the three proudest nobilities of Europe--the English, the Spanish, and the German." The countess paused a moment; then, after a slight hesitation, she resumed,--"You have seen, my dear Albert--I ask the question as a mother--you have seen M. de Monte Cristo in his house, you are quicksighted, have much knowledge of the world, more tact than is usual at your age, do you think the count is really what he appears to be?"
"What does he appear to be?"
"Why, you have just said,--a man of high distinction."
"I told you, my dear mother, he was esteemed such."
"But what is your own opinion, Albert?"
"I must tell you that I have not come to any decided opinion respecting him, but I think him a Maltese."
"I do not ask you of his origin but what he is."
"Ah, what he is; that is quite another thing. I have seen so many remarkable things in him, that if you would have me really say what I think, I shall reply that I really do look upon him as one of Byron's heroes, whom misery has marked with a fatal brand; some Manfred, some Lara, some Werner, one of those wrecks, as it were, of some ancient family, who, disinherited of their patrimony, have achieved one by the force of their adventurous genius, which has placed them above the laws of society."
"You say"--
"I say that Monte Cristo is an island in the midst of the Mediterranean, without inhabitants or garrison, the resort of smugglers of all nations, and pirates of every flag. Who knows whether or not these industrious worthies do not pay to their feudal lord some dues for his protection?"
"That is possible," said the countess, reflecting.
"Never mind," continued the young man, "smuggler or not, you must agree, mother dear, as you have seen him, that the Count of Monte Cristo is a remarkable man, who will have the greatest success in the salons of Paris. Why, this very morning, in my rooms, he made his entrée amongst us by striking every man of us with amazement, not even excepting Chateau-Renaud."
"And what do you suppose is the count's age?" inquired Mercédès, evidently attaching great importance to this question.
"Thirty-five or thirty-six, mother."
"So young,--it is impossible," said Mercédès, replying at the same time to what Albert said as well as to her own private reflection.
"It is the truth, however. Three or four times he has said to me, and certainly without the slightest premeditation, 'at such a period I was five years old, at another ten years old, at another twelve,' and I, induced by curiosity, which kept me alive to these details, have compared the dates, and never found him inaccurate. The age of this singular man, who is of no age, is then, I am certain, thirty-five. Besides, mother, remark how vivid his eye, how raven-black his hair, and his brow, though so pale, is free from wrinkles,--he is not only vigorous, but also young." The countess bent her head, as if beneath a heavy wave of bitter thoughts. "And has this man displayed a friendship for you, Albert?" she asked with a nervous shudder.
"I am inclined to think so."
"And--do--you--like--him?"
"Why, he pleases me in spite of Franz d'Epinay, who tries to convince me that he is a being returned from the other world." The countess shuddered. "Albert," she said, in a voice which was altered by emotion, "I have always put you on your guard against new acquaintances. Now you are a man, and are able to give me advice; yet I repeat to you, Albert, be prudent."
"Why, my dear mother, it is necessary, in order to make your advice turn to account, that I should know beforehand what I have to distrust. The count never plays, he only drinks pure water tinged with a little sherry, and is so rich that he cannot, without intending to laugh at me, try to borrow money. What, then, have I to fear from him?"
"You are right," said the countess, "and my fears are weakness, especially when directed against a man who has saved your life. How did your father receive him, Albert? It is necessary that we should be more than complaisant to the count. M. de Morcerf is sometimes occupied, his business makes him reflective, and he might, without intending it"--
当阿尔贝发现只剩他和伯爵两个人的时候，就说道：“伯爵阁下，请允许我来领您参观一下单身汉的房间吧。您在意大利住惯了宫殿，现在来计算一下一个住得还不错的青年在巴黎能有多少平方尺的地方可住，也是件很有趣的事。我们来一个房间地看吧，我给您打开窗户，让您透透气。”
“楼下的餐厅和客厅基督山已经看过了。阿尔贝先领他去了他的艺术工作室，那间工作室，我们前面已经说过，原是他最心爱的房间。基督山是一位可敬的鉴赏家，凡是阿尔贝收集在这儿的东西：古老的木柜，日本瓷器，东方的丝绸，威尼斯玻璃器具，世界各地的武器等等每一样东西他都非常熟悉，一看便知它们是哪个时代的东西，产于哪个国家以及它们的来历。
马尔塞夫原以为应该由他来指导伯爵的，而实际却恰恰相反，倒是他在伯爵的指导之下上了一堂考古学，矿物学和博物学的课。他们下到二楼，阿尔贝领他的贵宾进入客厅。客厅里挂满了近代画家的作品，有杜佩雷的风景画：长长的芦苇和高大的树木，哞哞叫的奶牛和明朗的天空；有德拉克络画的阿拉伯骑侠：身穿白色的长袍，把着闪闪发光的腰带，戴着铁套的纹章，他们的马用牙齿互相嘶咬，骑在马上的人却在用他们的狼子棒凶猛地格斗；拼杀布郎热的水彩画，色彩极其动人，以致使画家成了诗人的仇敌；有边亚兹的油画，他使他的花比真花还鲜艳，太阳比真的太阳还灿烂；有德冈的图案画，色彩象萨尔瓦多·罗联萨的画一样生动，但却富于诗意；有吉罗和米勒的粉笔画，把小孩子画得象天使安琪儿，把女人画得象仙女般美貌；有从多萨的《东方之行画册》上撕下来的速写，那些速写都是画家在驼峰上或回教寺院的殿堂下只花了几秒钟的时间勾成的。总之，都是近代的艺术珍品，作为补偿那些久已失传的古代艺术品的杰作。
阿尔贝以为这次可以有些新的东西给那位旅行家看看了，但使他极其惊奇的是：后者不必看画上的签名（其中有许多实际上只是些缩写），便能立刻说出每一幅画的作者姓名，而且态度非常安闲自在，可以看出他不仅知道每一位画家的姓名，而且还曾鉴别和研究过他们不同的画风。他们从客厅又到了卧室，这个房间布置得极其朴素雅致。在一只镀金镂花的镜框里，嵌着一幅署名“奥波·罗贝尔”的肖像画。这幅肖像画引了基督山伯爵的注意，只见他在房间里急速向前走了几步，然后突然在画像前面停了下来。画面上是一位青年女子，年约二十五六岁，肤色微黑，长长的睫毛下，有一双水汪汪的明亮的眼睛。她穿着美丽的迦太罗尼亚渔家女的服装——一件红黑相间的短衫，头发上插着金发针。她凝望着大海，背景是蓝色的海与天空。房间里的光线很暗，所以阿尔贝没有觉察到伯爵的脸色突然变得苍白了，他的胸膛和肩膀在神经质地颤抖着。房间里一时间沉寂了一会儿，在这期间，基督山出神地凝视着那幅画。
“您的情妇可真漂亮啊，子爵，”伯爵用一种十分平静的口吻说道，“这套服装大概是跳舞时穿的吧，使她看上去可爱极了。”
“啊，阁下！”阿尔贝答道，“要是您看过了这幅画旁边的另一幅画，我就不能原谅您这个错误了。您不认识我的母亲。您在这幅画上看到的人就是她。这幅像是七八年前画的。这套服装，看上去象是她想象出来的，可是画得很逼真，使我觉得好象看到了一八三○年时的母亲一样。伯爵夫人的这幅像是在伯爵出门的时候画的。她无疑是想使他大吃一惊，但说来也奇怪，我父亲似乎很不高兴看到这幅像，即使这幅画十分名贵，因为您已经看到了，这是莱身波·罗贝尔画的杰作之一，这也无法克服他对它的厌恶。真的，这话我只能对你说，马尔塞夫伯爵是卢森堡最勤勉的贵族之一，是一位以军事理论见长的将军，但对于艺术他却是一个最庸俗的外行。母亲就不同了，她本人就画得很好，她为了不能保存这样名贵的一幅画，就把它送给我挂在这儿，这样可以减少一些伯爵的不愉快。马瑟夫先生的画像是格洛斯画的，喏，就是这一幅。请原谅我谈起了家事，但既然您肯赏脸让我把您介绍给伯爵，我就把这件事告诉您，免得您对这幅画产生误会。这幅画好象有一种魔力，因为我母亲每次到这儿来，总要看看它，而每一次看它就非哭不可。伯爵和伯爵夫人一生中惟有这一件事不和，他们虽然结婚已二十多年了，却仍象新婚那天一样恩爱和睦。”
基督山迅速地瞟了阿尔贝一眼，象是要寻找他的话外之音，但这个青年人的话显然是很直率地从他的心里说出来的。
“现在，”阿尔贝说道，“我全部的宝藏您都见到了，请允许我把它们献给您，虽然都是些毫无价值的东西。请把这里当作您自己的家好了，请随便一些，并请您同我一起去见一下马尔塞夫先生，我在罗马已写信详细告诉过他您对我的帮助，我已对他讲您将光临的消息。我敢说，伯爵和伯爵夫人都很希望能亲自向您道谢。我知道，您对于应酬多少有点厌烦了。见识过这么多事物的水手辛巴德对于家庭生活是不会怎么感兴趣的。可是，巴黎人的生活就在于彼此来往的应酬上，，我现在的提议就是踏入这种生活的开始，请接受吧。”
基督山鞠了一躬，并没回答，他接受了这个建议，既没有表露出热情，也没显示出不快，只当这是社会上的一种习俗，每个绅士都应该把这看作是一种义务。阿尔贝叫他的仆人进来，吩咐他去通报马尔塞夫先生和夫人：说基督山伯爵已经到了。阿尔贝和伯爵跟在他的后面。当他们走到前厅的时候，看见门框上挂着一面盾牌，盾牌上的图案极其华丽，和房间里其它的陈设很相称，这一点足以证明这个纹章的主人的重要性了。基督山停下来全神贯注地看着。
“七只浅蓝色的燕子，”他说，“这无疑是您的家族纹章吧？我对纹章虽有点研究，能略做辨别，但对于家谱学却很不了解。我是一个新封的伯爵，这个头衔是在托斯卡纳依靠圣爱蒂埃总督的帮忙弄来的，要不是他们说这是旅行所必需的，我本来还不高兴来这一套呢。但是，一个人出门在外，马车的坐垫底下，总有一些想避开海关关员搜查的东西的。原谅我向您提出了这样的一个问题。”
“这没什么失礼的，”马尔塞夫非常自信地答道。“您猜对了。这是我家的纹章，也就是说，是我父亲这一族的，但您也看到了，这旁边有一面盾，上面有红色的直线和一座银色的塔楼，那是我母亲家族的。从她那一边来说，我是西班牙人，但马尔塞夫这一族是法国人，而且我听说，是法国南部历史最悠久的家族之一。”
“是的，”基督山答道，“这些纹章就可以证明，凡是武装去朝圣地的人，几乎都在他的武器上画着一个十字架或几只候鸟，十字架表示他们的光荣使命，候鸟则象征他们将要出发作漫长的旅行，并希望凭借虔敬的翅膀来完成它。您的祖先曾有人参加过十字军，而即使只参加了圣路易所领导的那一次，也已可追溯到十三世纪，那也算是历史相当悠久了。”
“可能是吧，？马尔塞夫说道，“我父亲的书房里有一本家族谱，您一看就可以完全明白的。我曾在那本族谱上作过批注，要是身齐和乔库尔看了，对于他们的研究一定大有裨益的。我现在已不再想那些事了，可是我必须告诉您，在我们这个平民政府的治理之下，我们对于这些事情又开始极大地关注起来。”
“哦，那么，你们的政府还是另外挑选一些旧事旧物来做微章的好，象我刚才所注意到的那种纪念品，和纹章是毫无关系的。至于您，子爵，”基督山继续对马尔塞夫说道，“您比政府还要幸福，因为府上的纹章真是漂亮极了，看了引人入胜。是的，您的父母是罗旺斯和西班牙两地的贵族。这就说明了我看到的那幅画像，我所钦慕的那种微黑的肤色，正是高贵的迦太罗尼亚的特征。”
伯爵这一番话显然说得非常客气，要想猜透他话里所隐藏的讽刺意味，得具有身狄波斯或斯芬克斯的洞察力才行。马尔塞夫用一个微笑向他道了谢，就推开了挂着盾牌的那扇门，这扇门，我们已经说过，是通客厅的。在客厅最引人注目的一面墙上，又有一幅肖像画。画上是一个男人，年龄在三十五到三十八岁之间，身穿一套军官制服，佩戴着金银双重肩章，由此可见官衔很高；他的脖子上挂着荣誉军团的缎带，表明他曾当过司令官；在胸部，右面挂着一枚武将荣誉勋章，左面挂的是一枚查理三世的大十字勋章，这说明画上的这个人曾参加过希腊和西班牙的战争，或曾在那两国完成过某项外交使命，所以才得到了这个勋章。
基督山对于这幅画像的注意并不亚于刚才的那一幅，他正在仔细观看的时候，一扇侧门打开了，迎面而来的正是马尔塞夫伯爵本人。马尔塞夫伯爵年约四十到四十五岁。但他看上去至少已有五十岁了，头发理成军式的，剪得很短，他那漆黑的胡须和漆黑的眉毛与他那几乎已全白的头发形成了鲜明的对照。他身穿便服，纽扣眼上佩戴着他所有的各种勋章的缎带。这个人以一种略带急促但相当庄严的步子走进房来。基督山眼看着他向自己走过来，而他自己却一动也没动。他的脚似乎已被钉在了地面上，正如他的目光盯在了马尔塞夫伯爵身上一样。
“父亲，”那青年人说道，“我很荣幸能把基督山伯爵阁下介绍给您，他就是我以前跟您说过的，在我最危急的关头侥幸遇见的那位义士。”
“欢迎之至，阁下，”马尔塞夫伯爵一边说，一边微笑着向基督山致意，“阁下保全了我家惟一的继承人，这种恩情是值得我们永远感激不尽的。”
马尔塞夫伯爵一边说，一边指了指一张椅子，他自己则坐在窗口对面的一张椅子上。基督山在马尔塞夫指给他的那个座位上坐了下来，他坐的姿势恰巧使自己隐藏在了在鹅绒大窗帘的阴影里，在那儿，他从伯爵那张劳累忧虑的脸上，看到了时间用一条条皱纹记录下的一个人的全部内心隐痛。
“伯爵夫人，”马尔塞夫说道。“在接到通报，知道您已经光临的时候，正在梳妆，她很快就会到客厅里来的。”
“我觉得非常荣幸，”基督山答道，“能在我到巴黎的第一天就拜会到一位命运之神对他很垂青，功名并重的人。那么在米提贾平原上，或阿脱拉斯山区里，是不是还有一个元帅的权位在等着您呢？”
“哦，”马尔塞夫回答说，脸上微微有点发红，“我已经退伍了，阁下。我曾在布蒙元帅的手下作战，在复辟以后被封为贵族。我本来有希望得到更高的爵位，但如果还是拿破仑当政的话，谁又能料得后来的情形会怎么样呢？七月革命的功绩似乎就在于它的忘恩负义，尤其是对那些在帝国时期以前就已为国效劳的军人忘恩负义。所以我提出了辞职。一个人在战场上拼杀多年以后，一旦回到客厅里，简直连怎样在光滑的地板上走路都不会了。我挂起了剑，投身到政治里。我致力于实业，我研究各种实用的工艺。在我二十年的军队生活里，常常想这样做，但那时我没有时间。”
“贵国人民之所以能优于任何其他各国就是因为有这种精神的缘故，”基督山回答道。“象您这样家境富裕，出身高贵的一位爵士，竟肯去当一名小兵，一步步地得以升迁，这已经实属罕见了，而在您身为将军，法国贵族，荣誉军团的司令官以后，又肯从头开始第二种职业，心中别无任何其他的希望，只求有一天能有益于您的同胞，这实在是值得赞美的，不，简直是太崇高了。”
阿尔贝在一旁听着，很是惊异，他从来没有看见基督山这样热情奔放过。
“唉！”这位生客继续说道，无疑是想驱散马尔塞夫额头上的那一片淡淡的阴云，“我们在意大利就不会这样做，我们按照原有的阶级或种族长大，我们沿着前一代人的路线前进，常常也是同样的碌碌无为，终生一事无成。”
“但是，阁下，”马尔塞夫伯爵说道，“象您这样的天才，在意大利是不足以施展的，法国以张开她的双臂在欢迎您，请您响应她的呼唤吧。法国也许并不是对全世界都忘恩负义的，她待她自己的子女不好，但她对客人却永远是欢迎的。”
“啊，父亲！”阿尔贝微笑着说道，“您显然还不了解基督山伯爵阁下，他厌弃一切荣誉，只要有他的护照上所写的那个头衔就满足了。”
“这句话太公道了，”客人回答说，“我生平从来没听到过这样公道的评语。”
“您可以自由选择您的人生道路。”马尔塞夫伯爵叹了一口气说道，“而您选中了那条铺满鲜花的路。”
“一点不错，阁下。”基督山微笑说道，他的这个微笑是画家都无法用画笔表现出来的，心理学家也无法分析出来的。
“我要不是怕您疲劳的话，”将军说道，显然，伯爵的这种态度使他很高兴，“我会带您到众议院去的。今天那儿有一场辩论，凡是不熟悉我们这些近代参议员的外国人，去看看一定会觉得非常有趣的。”
“阁下，假如您改天再提出这个邀请的话，我会十分感激的，但刚才蒙您允许我拜见伯爵夫人，所以您的盛意我领了，等下一次再接受吧。”
“啊！我母亲来了。”子爵大声说道。
基督山急忙转过身来，只见马尔塞夫夫人正一动不动的站在客厅门口，她脸色苍白。她站着的这个门口，正和她丈夫进来的那扇门相对，她的手不知为什么搁在那镀金的门把上，直到基督山转过来的时候，才让它无力地垂了下来。她在那儿已站了一会儿，已听到了来客的最后几句话。后者急忙起身向伯爵夫人行礼，伯爵夫人无言地欠了欠身。
“啊！天啊，夫人！”伯爵说道，“你不舒服吗，还是房间里太热，你受不了？”
“您身体不舒服吗，妈妈？”子爵大声叫道，向美塞苔丝跳过去。
她微笑着谢谢他们两人。“不，”她答道，“只是我初次见到把我们从眼泪和悲哀里拯救出来的人，心里未免有点激动。阁下，”伯爵夫人象一位王后般仪态大方地走了过来，继续说道，“我儿子的生命是您赐的，为了这，我祝福您。现在，我更感谢您给了我一个亲自向你道谢的机会。我的感谢，象我的祝福一样，都是来自我的内心深处的。”
伯爵又鞠了一躬，但这次鞠得比前一次更低了。他的脸色显得比美塞苔丝更苍白。“夫人，”他说道，“伯爵阁下和您为一件举手之劳的事都答谢得太客气了。救一个人的命，免得他的父亲悲伤，他的母亲哀痛，算不得是什么义举，只不过是一件从人道上讲应该做的事情而已。”
对于这几句说得极其温婉有礼的话，马尔塞夫夫人答道：“我的儿子真是幸运极了，阁下，他竟能结识您这样一位朋友，我感谢上帝促成了这件事。”于是美塞苔丝抬眼向天，面露极其热烈感恩的表情，伯爵似乎觉得在这一对美丽的眼睛里看见了泪水，马尔塞夫伯爵走近她的身边。
“夫人，”他说道，“我要走了，我已经向伯爵阁下道过歉了，我请你再代我道歉一次。两点钟开始开会，现在已经三点钟了，而我今天还要发言。”
“去吧，那么，我一定尽力使我们的贵客忘记你已出门！”
伯爵夫人仍然用多情的口吻回答说。“伯爵阁下，”她又转向基督山说道，“您可以赏光在舍下玩一天吗？”
“相信我，夫人，我非常感激您的盛情，但我今天早晨是坐我的旅行马车到府上来的。我还不知道我在巴黎要住的是一间什么样的房子，甚至还不知道它在哪儿，我承认这只是一件小事，但心里总觉得有点不安。”
“至少，我们下一次总可以有这种荣幸吧，”伯爵夫人说道，“您肯答应吗？”
基督山欠了欠身，没有回答，但这个姿势可以算是答应了。
“我不耽搁您了，阁下，”伯爵夫人又说道，“我不愿意让我们的感激变成失礼或勉强。”
“亲爱的伯爵，”阿尔贝说道，“我当尽力来报答您在罗马待我的一片好意，在您自己的马车还没有备妥以前，您可以用我那辆双人马车。”
“我谢您的好意，子爵，”基督山伯爵答道，“但我想伯都西先生大概会好好地利用我给他的那四个半钟头的时间的，我在门口应该是能找到一辆车子的。”
阿尔贝熟悉了伯爵的处事态度，他知道，象尼罗王一样，他特地要做那些常人办不到的事情。所以伯爵现在无论干什么事来，也不会使他惊奇了。但为了亲眼判断伯爵的命令究竟执行得怎么样，他陪他到了府邸门口。基督山没有猜错。他一走进马尔塞夫伯爵的前厅，一个听差，就是在罗马送伯爵的名片给两个青年并代他致意的那个立刻急步走了出去，当他到达大门口的时候，这位不凡的旅行家发觉他的马车已在等候他了。那是一辆高碌式的双座四轮马车，马和挽具原是属于德拉克的，全巴黎人都知道，昨天有出一万八千法廊他还不肯卖呢。
“阁下，”伯爵对阿尔贝说道，“我不请您陪我回去了，因为我现在只能给您看到一个匆匆布置起来的住处，而我，您知道，一向是以办事迅速闻名的。所以，请给我一天的时间再来请您过去，我那时一定不会有招待不周的地方的。”
“假如您要我等上一天，伯爵，我知道我将会，看到什么，我看到的将不是一所房子，而是一座宫殿。必定有某个神灵在为您服务。”
“好吧！您只管去宣传这种念头吧，”基督山回答说，他的一只脚已踏上了那辆华丽的嵌天鹅绒的踏级，“那可以使我在太太们中间发生点影响。”
他一边说，一边跳进马车里，车门一关，马车就疾驰而去。
车子虽然跑得很快，他还是注意到了，他离开时马尔塞夫夫人的那个房间的窗帘，曾几乎令人难以觉察地动了一下。
阿尔贝回去找他的母亲，发觉她已在女宾休息室里了，她斜靠在一张天鹅绒的大圈椅上，整个房间是这样的阴暗，只有那松地钉在帷幕上的金银箔剪成的小饰物和镀金镜框的四角，才给了房间一点亮光。阿尔贝看不到伯爵夫人的脸，她的头上已蒙了一张薄薄的面纱，象是有一层云雾笼罩了她的脸。但他觉察出她的声音似乎有些变了。花瓶里玫瑰花和紫薇花散发着芬芳的香味，但在花香之中，他可以辨别出一股刺鼻的嗅盐的气味，他又注意到伯爵夫人的嗅瓶已从鲛皮盒子里取出来放在壁架上的一只镂花银杯里。所以他一进来就用一种担心的口吻高声说道：“妈妈，我出去的时候您不舒服了吗？”
“不，不，阿尔贝！你知道，这些玫瑰，夜来香和香橙花，初开时候香气是很浓的，开始总有点让人受不了。”
“那么，妈妈，”阿尔贝垃了拉铃说道，“要把这些花搬到前厅里去吧。您准是有点儿不舒服了，刚才您进来的时候，脸色很苍白。”
“我脸色很苍白吗，阿尔贝？”
“是的，您配上那种苍白显得更美了，妈，但爸爸和我还是不能不为这苍白而担心。”
“你爸爸也跟你说这些了吗？”美塞苔丝急切地问道。
“没有，夫人，但您不记得他问你的话了吗？”
“是的，我记得。”伯爵夫人回答说。
一个仆人走了进来，是阿尔贝拉铃召来的。
“把这些花搬到前厅更衣室去，”子爵说。“伯爵夫人闻了不舒服。”
仆人按他的吩咐去行事了。接着房间里沉默了好一会儿，一直到所有的花都搬完。“这个基督山是个什么名字？”伯爵夫人等仆人把最后一瓶花搬走，才问道。“是一个姓呢，还是一处产业的名字，或只是一个头衔？”
“我相信，妈，这只是一个头衔，伯爵在托斯卡纳多岛海里买下了一个岛子，正如他今天所告诉您的，就把那个岛作为他的封地。您知道，这种事情佛罗伦萨的圣爱蒂埃，巴马的对乔奇，康士但丁，甚至马耳他的贵族都做过。而且，他并非硬要争什么贵族的名义，他自称他的伯爵头衔是侥幸得来的，但一般的罗马人，都以为伯爵是一个身份非常高贵的人。”
“他的举止态度真令人钦佩，”伯爵夫人说道，“至少，以刚才他在这儿的短暂停留而论，我可以这样判断。”
“那可说是完美无缺，妈，英国，西班牙和德国虽号称是欧洲最高傲的贵族中的三大领袖贵族，但在我所认识的人当中，没有一个人能比得上他。”
伯爵夫人沉思了一会儿，然后，又略微犹豫了一下，说道：“你曾经，我亲爱的阿尔贝，我是站在一个母亲的立场上问这个问题的，你曾经到基督山先生的家里去看过。你的目光一向很敏锐，又懂得很多世故，比你同龄的人都机警些，你认为伯爵是否真的表里如一？”
“他外表怎样？”
“你刚才自己说的呀，他是个身份很高贵的人。”
“我告诉您，亲爱的妈妈，人家也是这么说的。”
“但你自己的看法如何呢，阿尔贝？”
“我只能告诉您，我对他还没有什么明确的看法。但我认为他可能是个马耳他人。”
“我不是问他是哪国人，而是问他是怎样的一个人。”
“啊！他是怎样的一个人！那就是另外一回事了。我目睹了许多和他有关的惊人的事情，所以要是您叫我把心里话照直说出来的话，我就会说：我真的把他看作是拜伦笔下的一个身世极其悲惨的主角了，他有点象曼弗雷特，因为分享不到家族的遗产，所以就不得不凭他的冒险天才自己去寻找致富之道，因此就无视社会的法律。”
“你是说”
“我是说，基督山是地中海中的一个岛，岛上没有居民，也没有驻军，是各国的走私贩子和各地的海盗经常去的地方。谁知道这不折不扣的实干家会不会付些保护费给他们的地主呢？”
“那是可能的。”伯爵夫人若有所思地说道。
“别管他是不是走私贩子呢，”青年继续说道，“您已经见过他了，我的好妈妈，想必您也一定同意，基督山伯爵是一位非凡的人物，他在巴黎社交界一定会获得巨大成功的。嘿，就是今天早晨，在我那儿，这还是他初次踏进社交界，他就已经使我们每一个人都感到非常惊异了，甚至连夏多·勒诺都不例外！”
“你觉得伯爵有多大年纪了？”美苦蒂丝问道，显然觉得这个问题很重要。
“三十五六岁吧，妈。”
“这么年轻！不可能的。”美塞苔丝说道，这句话一方面是回答阿尔贝的，而同时也是在对自己讲。
“但这是真的。有好几次，他曾对我说，当然是无意中流露出来的，某某时候他五岁，某某时候他十岁，某某时候十二岁。而我，由于好奇，就把这些细节都牢牢地记住了，再把各个日期一对照，发觉他从没说错过。所以，我敢肯定，这位年龄不明的奇人，是三十五岁。而且，妈，您看他的眼睛多么锐利，他的头发多么黑，而他的额头，虽然苍白一些，却还毫无皱纹，他不但强壮，而且还很年轻呢。”
伯爵夫人的头垂了下去，象埋在了一阵极其痛苦的思想里。“这个人对你很友善是吗，阿尔贝？”她问这句话的时候打了一个神经质的寒颤。
“我想是这样的。”
“你，你喜欢他吗？”
“咦，他很讨我欢喜，尽管弗兰兹·伊皮奈一直想说服我，说他是个某个世界回来的人。”
伯爵夫人惊恐地打了一个寒颤。“阿尔贝，”由于情绪激动，她说话的音调都变了，“你以前每结交一个新朋友，我总要来过问一下的。现在你是个大人了，都能给我个忠告了，但我还要对你说，阿尔贝，要谨慎。”
“噢，亲爱的妈妈，为了您的忠告对我有用，我必须要知道我究竟怕什么。伯爵从不玩牌，他只喝清水，里面加一点白葡萄酒，他很有钱，要不是存心想嘲弄我，是决不会向我借钱的。那么，他对我有什么可怕的地方呢？”
“你说得对，”伯爵夫人说道，“我这种担心是不应该有的，尤其是对一个曾救过你性命的人。你爸爸是怎样接待他的，阿尔贝？我们对伯爵在礼貌上就应该更殷勤一些。马尔塞夫先生有的时候心神不定，他总想着他的正事，他或许在无意之中”爸爸的态度再好也没有的了，妈，”阿尔贝说道，“而且，还不止呢，他似乎很喜欢伯爵对他说的那几句恭维话，伯爵的话说得非常巧妙，而态度之安闲，就象是他已经认识他有三十年了似的。每一句话都象是一支搔着痒处的小箭，爸爸心里一定很喜欢的，”阿尔贝笑了一声，又说道，“所以他们分手的时候，已成了最要好的朋友了，爸爸甚至还想带他到众议院里去听演讲呢。”
伯爵夫人没有说话。她已深深地沉入了一种思索之中，她的两眼渐渐地闭了起来。站在她面前的这个青年温柔地望着她，他这时所流露出来的母子间的亲情，简直比那些母亲还年轻美丽的小孩子更加真挚。后来，看到她的眼睛已经闭上了，听到了她发的均匀的呼吸声，他相信她已经睡熟了，就踮着脚尖离开房间，万分小心地把门拉上。“这个怪人！”他摇摇头自言自语地说道，“我早就说他会在这儿轰动一时的，我可以用一只万灵的温度计测出他的效果。连我的妈妈都注意到他啦，所以他肯定会是个引人瞩目的人物。”
他下楼向马厩走去，想到基督山伯爵这次买马车又大显身手，以致把他的栗色的马在行家的眼睛里降为了二流贷色，心里略微有点不高兴。“千真万确，”他说，“人是不平等的，我一定要请父亲在参议院里讨论这个题目。”