The Count of Monte-Cristo/Volume 1/Chapter 5
CHAPTER V
THE MARRIAGE FEAST
HE next day was a beautiful one. The morning sun rose clear and esplendent, and his first rays of red and purple studded with their rubies the foamy crest of the waves.
The plenteous feast had been prepared on the first floor of La Réserve, with whose arbor the reader is already familiar. The apartment destined for the purpose was spacious, and lighted by five or six windows, over each of which was written in golden letters—explain the phenomenon if you can—the name of one of the principal cities of France; beneath these windows a wooden balcony extended the entire length of the house.
And although the entertainment was fixed for twelve o'clock at noon, an hour previous to that time the balcony was filled with impatient and expectant guests, consisting of the favored part of the crew of the Pharaon, and some soldier friends of Dantès, the whole of whom had arrayed themselves in their choicest costumes, in order to do greater honor to the day.
Various rumors were afloat among the guests to the effect that the owners of the Pharaon had promised to attend the nuptial feast of its mate, but all seemed unanimous in doubting that an act of such rare and exceeding condescension could possibly be intended.
Danglars, however, who now made his appearance, accompanied by Caderousse, effectually confirmed the report, stating that he had recently conversed with M. Morrel, who had himself assured him he intended joining the festive party at La Réserve.
A moment afterward an enthusiastic burst of applause from the crew of the Pharaon announced the presence of M. Morrel. The visit of the shipowner was to them as a sure indication that the man whose wedding-feast he thus delighted to honor would ere long be first in command of the Pharaon; and as Dantès was universally beloved on board his vessel, the sailors put no restraint on the tumultuous joy at finding the opinion and choice of the owner so exactly coincide with their own.
This noisy though hearty welcome over, Danglars and Caderousse were dispatched to the residence of the bridegroom to convey to him the intelligence of the arrival of the important personage who had caused such a sensation, and to desire he would hasten.
Danglars and Caderousse started off upon their errand at full speed; but ere they had gone many steps they perceived at the powder magazine the little troop advancing toward them. This little troop was composed of a party of young girls in attendance on the bride, who leaned on the arm of Dantès. By her side walked Dantès' father; last, came Fernand, with his evil smile.
Neither Mercédès nor Edmond observed this evil smile. Happy in their innocent love, they saw only themselves and the clear, pure sky that blessed them.
Having acquitted themselves of their errand, and exchanged a hearty shake of the hand with Edmond, Danglars and Caderousse took their places beside Fernand and old Dantès, — the latter of whom attracted universal notice.
The old man was attired in a suit of black, trimmed with steel buttons beautifully cut and polished. His thin but still powerful legs were arrayed in a pair of richly embroidered clocked stockings, evidently of English manufacture, and smuggled, while from his three-cornered hat depended a long streaming knot of white and blue ribbons. Thus he came along, supporting himself on a stick, twisted its whole length like the ancient pedum. He might have been one of those mascadins who, in 1796, promenaded in the newly reopened gardens of the Luxemborg and Tuileries.
Beside him crept Caderousse, whose desire to partake of the good things provided for the wedding party had induced him to become reconciled to the Dantès, father and son, although there still lingered in his mind a faint and imperfect recollection of the events of the preceding night; just as the brain retains on waking the dim and misty outline of the dream that has "murdered sleep."
As Danglars approached the disappointed lover, he cast on him a look of deep meaning, while Fernand, as he slowly paced behind the happy pair, completely forgotten by the bride, who, with the juvenile and charming egotism of love, had eyes only for her Edmond, was pale, with occasional deep flushes that disappeared only to give place to her ever-increasing pallor. From time to time he looked toward Marseilles, 
and then a nervous, involuntary trembling made him quiver. Fernand seemed to expect, or at least anticipate, some great event.
Dantès himself was simply, though becomingly, clad in the dress peculiar to the merchant service — a costume somewhat between a uniform and a civil garb; and his fine countenance, radiant with joy and happiness, was in keeping with this garb.
Lovely as the Greeks of Cyprus or Ceos, Mercédès boasted the same eyes of jet and coral lips, while she walked with that free, frank step that distinguishes the women of Arles and Andalusia. One more practiced in the arts of great cities would have hid her joy beneath a veil, or, at least, beneath her thickly-fringed lashes; but Mercédès, on the contrary, smiled and looked at those around her. Her look and her smile said, as plainly as words could have done, "If you are my friends, rejoice with me, for, in truth, I am very happy."
As soon as the bridal cortége came in sight of La Réserve, M. Morrel came forth to meet it, followed by the soldiers and sailors there assembled, to whom he had repeated the promise already given, that Dantès should be the successor to the late Captain Leclere. Edmond, at the approach of his patron, respectfully placed the arm of his affianced bride within that of M. Morrel, who, forthwith conducting her up the flight of wooden steps leading to the chamber in which the feast was prepared, was gayly followed by the guests, beneath whose thronging numbers the slight structure creaked and groaned as though alarmed at the unusual pressure.
"Father," said Mercédès, stopping when she had reached the center of the table, "sit, I pray you, on my right hand; on my left I will place him who has ever been as a brother to me," pointing with a sweetness that struck Fernand to his inmost heart like the blow of a dagger. His lips became ghastly pale, and even beneath the dark hue of his complexion the blood might be seen retreating as though driven back to the heart.
During this time, Dantès, at the opposite side of the table, had been occupied in similarly placing his most honored guests. M. Morrel was seated at his right hand, Danglars at his left; while, at a sign from Edmond, the rest of the company ranged themselves as they found it most agreeable.
Already there passed round the table sausages of Arles, with their brown meat and piquant flavor; lobsters in their dazzling red cuirasses; prawns of brilliant color, the sea-urchins looking like chestnut-burrs, with their prickly outside; the clams, esteemed by the epicures of the south as more than rivaling the exquisite flavor of the oyster, north. All these, in conjunction with the numerous delicacies cast up by the wash of waters on the sandy beach, and styled by the grateful fishermen "sea fruits," served to furnish forth this marriage table.
"A pretty silence, truly!" said the old father of the bridegroom, as he carried to his lips a glass of wine of the hue of the topaz, and which had just been placed before Mercédès by Father Pamphile himself. "Now, would anybody think that this room contained thirty people who desire nothing better than to laugh?"
"Ah!" sighed Caderousse, "a man cannot always feel happy because he is about to be married."
"The truth is," replied Dantès, "that I am too happy for noisy mirth; if that is what you meant by your observation, my worthy friend, you are right; joy takes a strange effect at times: it oppresses like sorrow."
Dauglars looked toward Edmond, whose impressionable nature received and betrayed each fresh emotion.
"Why, what ails you!" said he. "Do you fear any approaching evil? I should say that you were the happiest man alive at this instant."
"And that is the very thing that alarms me," returned Dantès. "Man does not appear to me to be intended to enjoy felicity so unmixed; happiness is like the palaces of the enchanted isles, where dragons guard the doors. We must fight to win it. I do not know how I have deserved the honor of being the husband of Mercédès."
"Husband, husband," cried Caderousse, laughing, "not yet, captain. Just try to play the husband, and see how you are received."
The bride blushed. Fernand, restless and uneasy, started at every sound, occasionally wiping away the large drops of perspiration that gathered on his brow like the first rain-drops of a storm.
"Well, never mind that, neighbor Caderousse," said Dantès; "it is not worth while to contradict me for such a trifle as that. 'Tis true that Mercédès is not actually my wife; but," added he, drawing out his watch, "in an hour and a half from this she will be."
A general exclamation of surprise ran round the table, with the exception of the elder Dantès, whose laugh displayed the still perfect beauty of his large white teeth. Mercédès looked pleased without a blush, while Fernand grasped the handle of his knife with a convulsive clutch.
"In an hour?" inquired Danglars, turning pale. "How is that, my friend?"
"Why, thus it is," replied Dantès. "Thanks to the influence of M. Morrel, to whom, next to my father, I owe every blessing I enjoy, every difficulty has been removed. We have got the license, and at half-past two o'clock the Mayor of Marseilles will be waiting at the Hôtel de Ville. Now, as a quarter-past one has already struck, I do not consider I have asserted too much in saying, that in another hour and thirty minutes Mercédès will be called Madame Dantès."
Fernand closed his eyes, a cloud of flame scorched his eyelids, and he leaned on the table to prevent his falling; but, in spite of all his
efforts, he could not refrain from uttering a deep groan, which, however, was lost amid the noisy felicitations of the company.
"Upon my word," cried the old man, "you make short work of this kind of affairs. Arrived here only yesterday morning, and married to-day at three o'clock! Commend me to a sailor for going the quick way to work!"
"But," asked Danglars, in a timid tone, "how did you manage about the other formalities — the contract — the settlement?"
"Oh, bless you," answered Dantès, laughingly, "our papers were soon drawn up. Mercédès has nothing, nor have I. We settle our property in common. So, you see, our papers were quickly written out, and certainly do not come very expensive."
This joke elicited a fresh burst of applause.
"So that what we presumed to be merely the betrothal feast turns out to be the actual wedding dinner!" said Dauglars.
"No, no!" answered Dantès; "you'll lose nothing. Take it easy. To-morrow morning I start for Paris: four days to go, and four days to return, with one day to discharge the commission intrusted to me, and I shall be back here by the first of March; the next day I give my real marriage feast."
This prospect of fresh festivity redoubled the hilarity of the guests to such a degree, that the elder Dantès, who, at the commencement of the repast, complained of the silence that prevailed, now made vain efforts, amid the general din of voices, to drink to the health and prosperity of the bride and bridegroom.
Dantès, perceiving the wish of his father, responded by a look of grateful pleasure; while Mercédès began to look at the clock, and made a slight gesture to Edmond.
Around the festive board reigned that noisy hilarity and mirthful freedom which is usually found at the termination of social meetings among those of inferior station. Such as had not been able to seat themselves according to their inclination, rose and sought other neighbors. All spoke at the same time, and yet none cared to reply to what his interlocutor said, but merely to his own thoughts.
The paleness of Fernand appeared to have communicated itself to Danglars. As for Fernand himself, he seemed one of the damned in the burning lake; he was among the first to quit the table, and, as though seeking to close his ears to the roar of songs and the clink of glasses, he continued to pace backward and forward.
Caderousse approached him just as Danglars, whom Fernand seemed most anxious to avoid, had joined him in a corner of the room.
"Upon my word," said Caderousse, from whose mind the friendly treatment of Dantès, united with the effect of the excellent wine of Father Pamphile, had effaced every feeling of envy at Dantès' good fortune,—"upon my word, Dantès is a downright good fellow, and when I see him sitting there beside his pretty wife that is so soon to be, I cannot help thinking it would have been a great pity to have served him that trick you were planning yesterday."
"Well," said Danglars, "you saw that it ended in nothing. Poor Fernand was so upset that I was sorry for him at first; but, as he has gone so far as to be his rival's best man, there is nothing more to say."
Caderousse looked full at Fernand — he was ghastly pale.
"Certainly," continued Danglars, "the sacrifice was no trifling one when the beauty of the bride is concerned. Upon my soul, that future captain of mine is a lucky dog! Gad! I only wish he would let me take his place."
"Shall we not set forth?" asked the sweet, silvery voice of Mercédès; "two o'clock has just struck, and you know we are expected at the Hotel de Ville in a quarter of an hour."
"Yes! yes!" cried Dantès, eagerly quitting the table; "let us go"
"Let us go," said the whole party in chorus.
At this moment Danglars, who had been incessantly observing Fernand, perceived him open his haggard eyes, rise with an almost convulsive spasm, and fall back against a seat placed near one of the open windows. At the same instant the ear caught an indistinct sound on the stairs, a measured tread, a confused murmur of voices, mixed with the clanking of arms, deadening even the mirth of the party, and attracting general curiosity, which displayed itself almost instantaneously by a restless stillness.
Nearer and nearer came the sounds. Three knocks, against the door, resounded. Each looked inquiringly in the countenance of his neighbor.
"In the name of the law!" said a harsh voice, to which no voice replied.
The door was opened, and a magistrate, wearing his official scarf, presented himself, followed by four soldiers and a corporal. Uneasiness now yielded to dread.
"May I venture to inquire the reason of this unexpected visit?" said M. Morrel, addressing the magistrate, whom he knew; "there is doubtless some mistake."
"If it be so," replied the magistrate, "rely upon every reparation being made; meanwhile, I am the bearer of an order of arrest, and although I most reluctantly perform the task assigned me, it must, nevertheless, be fulfilled. Who among the persons here assembled answers to the name of Edmond Dantès?"
Every eye was turned toward the individual so described, who, spite of agitation, advanced with dignity, and said:
"I am he; what is your pleasure with me?"
"Edmond Dantès," replied the magistrate, "I arrest you in the name of the law!"
"Me!" repeated Edmond, slightly changing color, "and wherefore, I pray?"
"I cannot inform you, but you will be duly acquainted with the reasons that have rendered such a step necessary at your first examination."
M. Morrel felt that further resistance was useless. An officer, girt with his scarf, is no longer a man; he is the statue of law, cold, deaf, and dumb.
Old Dantès, on the other hand, rushed toward the officer. There are things which the heart of a father or mother can never comprehend. He prayed and supplicated, but tears and prayers were useless. Still his despair was so deep that the officer was touched. "My worthy friend," said he, "let me beg of you to calm yourself. Your son has probably neglected some prescribed form in registering his cargo, and it is more than probable he will be set at liberty directly he has given the information required."
"What is the meaning of all this?" inquired Caderousse, frowningly, of Danglars, who had assumed an air of utter surprise.
"How can I tell you?" replied he; "I am, like yourself, utterly bewildered at all that is going on, not a word of which do I understand."
Caderousse then looked around for Fernand, but he had disappeared.
The scene of the previous night now came back to his mind with startling accuracy. The painful catastrophe appeared to have rent away the veil which the intoxication of the evening before had raised between himself and his memory.
"So! so!" said he, in a hoarse voice, to Danglars, "this, then, I suppose, is a part of the trick you were concerting yesterday? All I can say is, that if it be so, woe to him who has done it, for it is a foul one!"
"Nonsense!" returned Danglars. "You know very well that I tore the paper to pieces."
"No, you did not!" answered Caderousse, "you threw it in a corner. There's the whole matter."
"Hold your tongue, you fool! — what should you know about it? — why, you were drunk!"
"Where is Fernand?" inquired Caderousse.
"How do I know?" replied Danglars; "after his own affairs, most likely. Never mind where he is; let us try and help our poor friends in this their affliction."
During this conversation, Dantès, after having exchanged a shake of the hand with all his friends, had surrendered himself, merely saying, with a smile, "Make yourselves quite easy, there is some little mistake to clear up, and very likely I may not have to go so far as the prison."
"Oh, to be sure!" responded Danglars, who had now approached the group, "nothing more than a mistake."
Dantès descended the staircase, preceded by the principal officer of police, and followed by the soldiers. A carriage awaited him at the door; he got in, followed by two soldiers and the officer; the door was shut, and the vehicle drove off toward Marseilles.
"Adieu! adieu! dearest Edmond!" cried Mercédès, leaning forward from the balcony.
The prisoner heard her cry, as it were a sob from the lacerated heart of his beloved, thrust his head out of the carriage window and cried, "Good-bye — we shall soon meet again!" and disappeared round one of the turnings of Fort Saint Nicolas.
"Wait for me here!" cried M. Morrel; I will take the first conveyance I find, and hurry to Marseilles, whence I will bring you word how all is going on."
"Go!" exclaimed a multitude of voices; "go, and return as quickly as you can!"
This second departure was followed by a long and fearful state of terrified silence on the part of those who were left behind.
The old father and Mercédès remained for some time apart, each 
absorbed in their separate griefs; but at length the two poor victims of the same blow raised their eyes, and with a simultaneous burst of feeling rushed into each other's arms.
Meanwhile Fernand made his reappearance, poured out for himself a glass of water, which he drank, and went to sit down on a chair.
This was, by mere chance, placed next to the seat on which poor Mercédès had fallen when released from the embrace of old Dantès.
Instinctively, Fernand drew back his chair.
"He has done it," whispered Caderousse, who had never taken his eyes off Fernand, to Danglars.
"I do not think so," answered the other; "he is too stupid. In any case, let the mischief fall upon the head of whoever wrought it."
"You don't mention him who advised it," said Caderousse.
"Pooh!" replied Danglars; "who can be responsible for every random word?"
"But if the random word hits the mark?"
Meantime the subject of the arrest was being canvassed in every different form.
"What think you, Danglars," said one of the party, "of the affair?"
"Why," replied he, "I think he may have brought in some smuggled goods."
"But how could he have done so without your knowledge, Danglars, who were the ship's supercargo?"
"Why, as for that, I could only know what I was told respecting the merchandise. I know she was loaded with cotton, and that she took in her freight at Alexandria from the magazine of M. Pastret, and at Smyrna from M. Pascal's. Don't ask me anything more."
"Now I recollect!" said the afflicted old father; "my poor boy told me yesterday he had got a small case of coffee, and another of tobacco for me!"
"There, you see!" exclaimed Danglars. The custom-house people have been to the ship in our absence, and discovered poor Dantès' hidden treasures."
Mercédès, however, did not believe a word of this. Her grief, hitherto restrained, now burst out in sobs.
"Come, come — hope!" said the old man, hardly knowing what he said.
"Hope!" repeated Danglars.
"Hope!" faintly murmured Fernand; but the word choked him, his lips quivered, and no sound escaped them.
"Good news!" shouted forth one of the party stationed in the balcony on the look-out. "Here comes M. Morrel back. No doubt, now, he brings us good news."
Mercédès and the old man rushed to meet him at the door. He was deadly pale.
"What news?" exclaimed a general burst of voices.
"Alas! my friends," replied M. Morrel, with a shake of his head, "the thing has assumed a more serious aspect than I expected."
"Oh! indeed — — ndeed, sir, he is innocent!" sobbed forth Mercédès.
"That I believe!" answered M. Morrel; "but still he is charged———"
"With what?" inquired the elder Dantès.
"With being a Bonapartist agent!" Many of my readers may be able to recollect how formidable such an accusation became in the period at which our story is dated.
A cry escaped the lips of Mercédès, while the old father fell into a chair.
"Ah, Danglars!" whispered Caderousse, "you have deceived me — the trick has been played; but I cannot suffer a poor old man or an innocent girl to die of grief. I will tell them all."
"Be silent, you simpleton!" cried Danglars, grasping him by the arm, "or I will not answer even for your own safety. Who can tell whether Dantès be innocent or guilty? The vessel did touch at Elba, where he quitted it, and passed a whole day at Porto-Ferrajo. Now, should any letters of a compromising character be found upon him, will it not be taken for granted that all who uphold him are his accomplices?"
With the rapid instinct of selfishness, Caderousse readily perceived the solidity of this mode of reasoning; he gazed with eyes of grief and terror on Danglars, and then for every step forward he had taken, he took two back.
"Let us, then, wait!" said he.
"To be sure!" answered Danglars. "Let us wait, by all means. If he be innocent, of course he will be set at liberty; if guilty, why, it is no use involving ourselves in his conspiracy."
"Then let us go hence. I cannot stay longer here."
"With all my heart!" replied Danglars, but too pleased to find a partner in his retreat. "Come, let us leave them to get out of it as they best can."
After their departure, Fernand, who had now again become the support of Mercedes, led the girl back to the Catalans, while some friends of Dantes conducted his father, nearly lifeless, to the Allées de Meilhan.
The rumor of Edmond's arrest as a Bonapartist agent was not slow in circulating throughout the city.
"Could you ever have credited such a thing, my dear Danglars?" asked M. Morrel, as he overtook his supercargo and Caderousse, on his return to the port for the purpose of gleaning fresh tidings of Dantès from the deputy Procureur du Roi, M. de Villefort, whom he knew slightly. "Could you have believed such a thing possible?"
"Why, you know I told you," replied Danglars, "that I considered
the circumstance of his having anchored in the isle of Elba as a very suspicious circumstance."
"And did you mention these suspicions to any person beside myself?"
"Certainly not!" returned Danglars; then added, in a low whisper, "You understand that, on account of your uncle M. Policar Morrel, who served under the other, and who does not conceal what he thinks, you are suspected of regretting Napoleon. I should have feared to injure both Edmond and yourself, had I divulged my own apprehensions to a soul. There are things which a subordinate is bound to acquaint the shipowner with, and to conceal from all else."
"Yes! yes! Danglars," replied M. Morrel. "You are a worthy fellow; and I had already thought of you in the event of poor Edmond having become captain of the Pharaon."
"How so?"
"Yes, indeed; I previously inquired of Dantès what was his opinion of you, and if he should have any reluctance to continue you in your post, for somehow I had perceived a sort of coolness between you two."
"And what was his reply?"
"That he certainly did think he had given you offense in an affair which he did not speak about, but that whoever possessed the confidence of the ship's owners would have his also."
"The hypocrite!" murmured Danglars between his teeth.
"Poor Dantès!" said Caderousse. "No one can deny his being a noble-hearted young fellow!"
"But, meanwhile," continued M. Morrel, "the Pharaon has no captain."
"Oh!" replied Danglars, "since we cannot leave this port for the next three months, let us hope that by that period Dantes will be set at liberty."
"No doubt; but in the mean time what are we to do?"
"I am entirely at your service, M. Morrel," answered Danglars. "You know that I am as capable of managing a ship as the most experienced captain in the service; and it will be so far advantageous to you to accept my services, that upon Edmond's release from prison there will be no one to dismiss. Dantès and myself each will resume our respective posts."
"Thanks, Danglars — that will smooth all difficulties. Assume the command of the Pharaon, and look carefully to the unloading. Private misfortunes must never induce us to neglect business."
"All right, M. Morrel; but when shall we be allowed to see him, at least, poor Edmond."
"I will let you know that directly I have seen M. de Villefort, whom I shall endeavor to interest in Edmond's favor. I am aware he is a furious royalist; but, in spite of that, and of his being the king's procureur, he is a man, and I fancy not a bad one!"
"Perhaps not," replied Danglars; "but he is said to be ambitious, and that is much the same."
"Well, well!" returned M. Morrel, "we shall see! But now hasten on board; I will join you there ere long."
So saying, the shipowner quitted the two allies, and proceeded in the direction of the Palais de Justice.
"You see," said Danglars, addressing Caderousse, "the turn things have taken. Do you still feel any desire to stand up in his defense?"
"Not the slightest, but yet it is a shocking thing a joke should lead to such consequences."
"But who perpetrated that joke? let me ask; neither you nor myself, but Fernand: you know very well that I threw the paper into a corner of the room, indeed, I fancied I had destroyed it."
"Oh, no!" replied Caderousse, "that I can answer for, you did not. I only wish I could see it now as plainly as I saw it lying all crushed and crumpled in a corner of the arbor."
"Well, then, if you did, depend upon it, Fernand picked it up, and either copied it or caused it to be copied; perhaps, even, he did not take the trouble of recopying it. And now I think of it, by Heavens! he may have sent the letter itself! Fortunately, for me, the handwriting was disguised."
"Then you were aware of Dantès being engaged in a conspiracy?"
"Not a bit in the world! As I before said, I thought the whole thing was a joke, nothing more. It seems, however, that, like Harlequin, I have unconsciously stumbled upon the truth."
"All the same," argued Caderousse, "I would give a great deal if nothing of the kind had happened; or, at least, that I had had no hand in it. You will see, Danglars, that it will turn out an unlucky job for both."
"Nonsense! If any harm comes of it, it should fall on the guilty person; and that, you know, is Feruand. How can harm come to us? All we have got to do is, to keep quiet, not breathing a word to any living soul; and you will see that the storm will pass away without the thunder-bolt striking."
"Amen!" responded Caderousse, waving adieu to Danglars, and bending his steps toward the Allées de Meilhan, moving his head to and fro, and muttering as he went, after the manner of one thoroughly preoccupied.
"So far, then," said Danglars, "all has gone as I would have it. I am, temporarily, commander of the Pharaon, with the certainty of being permanently so, if that fool of a Caderousse can be persuaded to hold his tongue. My only fear is the chance of Dantès being released. But, bah!" added he, with a smile, "Justice is justice; I'll leave it to her."
So saying, he leaped into a boat, desiring to be rowed on board the Pharaon, where M. Morrel, it will be remembered, had appointed to meet him.