The Count of Monte-Cristo/Volume 2/Chapter 47
CHAPTER XLVII
THE DAPPLED GRAYS
HE baron, followed by the count, traversed a long suit of apartments, in which the prevailing characteristics were heavy magnificence and the gaudiness of ostentatious wealth, until he reached the boudoir of Madame Danglars—a small octagonal-shaped room, hung with pink satin, covered with white Indian muslin; the chairs were of ancient workmanship and materials; over the doors were painted sketches of shepherds and shepherdesses, after the style and manner of Boucher; and at each side pretty medallions in crayons, harmonizing well with the fittings-up of this charming apartment, the only one throughout the vast hotel in which any distinctive taste prevailed. The truth was, it had been overlooked in the plan arranged by M. Danglars and his architect, one of the most eminent celebrities of the empire, and its decoration had then been left entirely to the baroness and Lucien Debray.
M. Danglars, however, while possessing a great admiration for the antique, as it was understood during the time of the Directory, entertained the most sovereign contempt for the simple elegance of his wife's favorite sitting-room, where, by the way, he was never permitted to intrude, unless, indeed, he excused his own appearance by ushering in some visitor; and even then he had rather the air of a person who was himself introduced, than as being the presenter of another, his reception being either cordial or frigid, in proportion as the visitor happened to please or displease his lady wife.
As Danglars now entered, he found Madame la Baronne (who, although past the first bloom of youth, was still strikingly handsome) seated at the piano, a most elaborate piece of cabinet and inlaid work, while Lucien Debray, standing before a small work-table, was turning over the pages of an album. Lucien had found time, preparatory to the count's arrival, to relate many particulars respecting him to Madame Danglars. It will be remembered that Monte-Cristo had made a lively impression on the minds of the party at the breakfast given by Albert de Morcerf; and Debray, unimpressionable as he was, still retained that impression, and thus the description given by Lucien to the baroness bore its traces.
Excited by the stories related by De Morcerf, and the additional circumstances detailed by Debray, the curiosity of the baroness was raised to its highest pitch. The piano and the album were thus simply the common pretexts for concealing more important matters. A most gracious welcome and unusual smile were bestowed on M. Danglars; the count, received a formal though graceful courtesy, while Lucien exchanged with the count a sort of distant recognition, and with Danglars a free and easy nod.
"Baroness," said Danglars, "give me leave to present to you the Count of Monte-Cristo, who has been most warmly recommended to me by my correspondents at Rome. I need but mention one fact to make all the ladies in Paris court his notice, and that is, that he has come to take up his abode in our capital for one year, during which period he proposes to spend six millions of money! It sounds very much like an announcement of balls, fêtes, dinners, and supper parties, in all of which I trust M. le Comte will remember us, as we may depend upon it we shall him, in our little entertainments."
Spite of the gross flattery and coarseness of this address, Madame Danglars could not forbear gazing with considerable interest on a man capable of expending six millions in twelve months, and who had selected Paris for the scene of his princely extravagance.
"And when did you arrive here?" inquired she.
"Yesterday morning, madame."
"Coming, as usual, I presume, from the extreme end of the globe?"
"Nay, madame! This time I have merely proceeded from Cadiz hither."
"You have selected a most unfavorable moment for your first visit to our city. Paris is a horrible place in summer! Balls, parties, and fêtes are over; the Italian opera is in London; the French opera every where except in Paris. As for the Theatre FranQais, you know, of course, that it is nowhere. The only amusements left us are the indifferent races held in the Champ de Mars and Satoiy. Do you propose entering any horses at either of these races, M. le Comte?"
"Madame," replied Monte-Cristo, "I will do whatever is done at Paris, if I am lucky enough to find some friend to instruct in French habits."
"Are you fond of horses, M. le Comte?" "I have passed a part of my life in the East, madame, and the Easterns value only two things—the breed of their horses and the beauty of their women."
"Nay, M. le Comte," said the baroness, "it would have been some what more gallant to have placed the ladies before the animals."
"You see, madame, how rightly I spoke when I said I required a preceptor to guide me in all my sayings and doings here."
At this instant the favorite attendant of Madame Danglars entered the boudoir; approaching her mistress, she spoke some words in an undertone. Madame Danglars turned very pale, then exclaimed:
"I cannot believe it; the thing is impossible."
"I assure you, madame," replied the woman, "it is even as I have said."
Turning impatiently toward her husband, Madame Danglars demanded, "Is this true?"
"Is what true, madame?" inquired Danglars, visibly agitated.
"What my maid tells me?"
"But what does she tell you?"
"That when my coachman was about to prepare my carriage, he discovered that the horses had been removed from the stables without his knowledge. I desire to know what is the meaning of this?"
"Be kind enough, madame, to listen to me," said Danglars.
"Fear not my listening; for I am curious to hear what you will say. These two gentlemen shall decide between us; but, first, I will state the case to them. Gentlemen," continued the baroness, "among the ten horses in the stables of M. le Baron Danglars, are two that belong to me the handsomest creatures in Paris. You know them, M. Debray my dappled grays. Well! I had promised Madame de Villefort the loan of my carnage to drive to-morrow to the Bois de Boulogne; but the grays are gone positively gone. No doubt M. Dauglars has made by the sale some thousands of francs. Heaven defend me from all the race of speculators!"
"Madame," replied Danglars, "the horses were not sufficiently quiet for you; they were scarcely four years old, and they made me extremely uneasy on your account."
"Nonsense!" retorted the baroness; "you could not have entertained any alarm on the subject, because you are perfectly well aware that I have recently engaged a coachman who is said to be the best in Paris. But, perhaps, you have disposed of the coachman as well as the horses?"
"My dear love! pray, do not say any more about them, and I promise you another pair exactly like them in appearance, only more quiet and steady."
The baroness shrugged up her shoulders with an air of ineffable contempt, while her husband, affecting not to observe it, turned toward Monte-Cnsto, and said:
"Upon my word, M. le Comte, I am quite sorry I was not sooner aware ot your establishing yourself in Paris."
"And wherefore?" asked the count.
"Because I should have liked to have made you the offer of these horses. I have almost given them away, as it is; but, as I before said, I was anxious to get rid of them upon any terms. They were only fit for a young man."
"I am much obliged by your kind intentions toward me," said Monte-Cristo; "but this morning I purchased a pair, and I do not think they were dear. There they are. Come, M. Debray, you are a good judge."
As Debray walked toward the window, Danglars approached his wife.
"Just fancy!" said he, in a low tone, "a most enormous price was offered me this morning for them. Some fool, bent upon ruining him self as fast as he can, actually sent his steward to me; and the fact is, I have gained sixteen thousand francs by the sale of them. Come, don't look so angry, and you shall have four thousand francs of the money to do what you like with, and Eugenie shall have two thousand." Madame Danglars surveyed her husband with a look of withering contempt.
"What do I see?" suddenly exclaimed Debray. "Where?" asked the baroness.
"I cannot be mistaken; there are your horses! Your own horses harnessed to the count's carriage!"
"My dappled grays?" demanded the baroness, springing to the window.
"'Tis indeed they!" said she.
Danglars looked absolutely stultified.
"How very singular!" cried Monte-Cristo, with well-feigned astonishment.
Madame Danglars whispered a few words in the ear of Debray, who approached Monte-Cristo, saying:
"The baroness wishes to know what you paid her husband for the horses."
"I scarcely know," replied the count; "it was a little surprise prepared for me by my steward. I think it has cost me about thirty thousand francs."
Debray conveyed the count's reply to the baroness. Poor Danglars looked so crestfallen and discomfited, that Monte-Cristo assumed a pitying air toward him. "See," said the count, "how very ungrateful women are! Your kind attention does not seem to have made the least impression on her. A woman will often, from mere willfulness, prefer that which is dangerous to that which is safe. Therefore, in my opinion, my dear baron, the best way is to leave them to act as they please, and, then, if any mischief follows, why, at least, they have no one to blame but themselves."
Danglars made no reply; he anticipated a stormy scene with the baroness, whose threatening looks and frowning brow, like that of Olympic Jove, predicted a hurricane.
Debray, who perceived the gathering clouds, suddenly recollected an appointment, which compelled him to take his leave; while Monte-Cristo, unwilling by prolonging his stay to destroy the advantages he hoped to obtain, made a farewell bow and departed, leaving Danglars to the reproaches of his wife.
"Excellent!" murmured Monte-Cristo to himself, as he retraced the way to his carriage. "All has gone according to my wishes. The domestic peace of this family is henceforth in my hands. Now, then, to play another master-stroke, by which I shall gain the heart of both husband and wife—delightful! Still," added he, "amid all this, I have not yet been presented to Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars, whose acquaintance I should have been glad to make. But never mind," pursued he, with that peculiar smile that at times lighted up his countenance, "I am in Paris, and have plenty of time before me—by and by will do for that."
The count's further meditations were interrupted by his arrival at his own abode. Two hours afterward, Madame Danglars received a most flattering epistle from the count, in which he entreated her to receive back her favorite "dappled grays," protesting that he could not endure making his debut in the Parisian world of fashion by exciting a lovely woman's regrets. The horses were sent back wearing the same harness they had done in the morning; the only difference consisted in the rosettes worn on the heads of the animals being adorned with a large diamond placed in the center of each, by order of the count.
To Danglars Monte-Cristo also wrote, requesting him to excuse the whimsical gift of a capricious millionaire, and to beg of Madame la Baronne to pardon the Eastern fashion adopted in the return of the horses. During the evening, Monte-Cristo quitted Paris for Auteuil, accompanied by Ali. The following day, about three o'clock, a single blow struck on the gong summoned Ali to the presence of the count.
"Ali," observed his master, as the Nubian entered the chamber, "you have frequently explained to me how more than commonly skillful you are in throwing the lasso, have you not?"
All drew himself up proudly, and then returned a sign in the affirmative.
"I thought I did not mistake. With your lasso you could stop an ox?"
Again Ali repeated his affirmative gesture. "Or a tiger?"
Ali bowed his head in token of assent. "A lion even?"
Ali sprang forward, imitating the action of one throwing the lasso; then of a strangled lion.
"I understand," said Monte-Cristo; "you wish to tell me you have hunted the lion?"
Ali smiled with triumphant pride. "But do you believe you could stop two runaway horses?"
The Nubian smiled.
"It is well," said Monte-Cristo. "Then listen to me. Ere long a carriage will be run away with by the pair of dappled gray horses you saw me with yesterday; now, at the risk of your own life, you must manage to stop those horses before my door."
Ali descended to the street, and marked a straight line on the pavement immediately at the entrance of the house, and then pointed out the line he had traced to the count, who was watching him. The count patted him gently on the back, his usual mode of praising Ali, who walked toward a projecting stone forming the angle of the street and house, and began to smoke his chibouk, while Monte-Cristo reentered his dwelling.
Still, as five o'clock approached, and the carriage was momentarily expected by the count, the indication of some slight impatience might be observed in his manner. He walked to and fro in a room commanding a view of the street, stopping to listen from time to time for the sound of approaching wheels, then to cast a glance on Ali; but the regularity with which the Nubian puffed forth the smoke of his chibouk proved that he at least was wholly absorbed in his favorite occupation.
Suddenly a distant sound of wheels was heard, and almost immediately a carriage appeared, drawn by a pair of wild, ungovernable horses, which the coachman strove in vain to restrain.
In the vehicle was a woman, apparently young, and a child of about seven or eight years of age. Terror seemed to have deprived them even of the power of uttering a cry, and both were clasped in each other's arms. Had the carriage encountered the slightest impediment, it must inevitably have upset; but it still flew on, amid the cries of the affrighted spectators in the street. Then AH threw down his chibouk, drew the lasso from his pocket, caught the forelegs of the near horse in its triple fold, suffered himself to be dragged on for a few steps; the lassoed horse fell, and falling on the pole, it snapped, and therefore prevented the other animal from pursuing his headlong way.
Gladly availing himself of this opportunity, the coachman leaped from his box; but AH had promptly seized the nostrils of the second horse, and held them in his iron grasp, till the beast, snorting with pain, sunk beside his companion.
All this was achieved in much less time than is occupied in the recital. The brief space had, however, been sufficient for a person, fol lowed by a number of servants, to rush from the house before which the accident had occurred and, as the coachman opened the door of the carriage, to take from it the lady who was convulsively grasping the cushions with one hand, while with the other she pressed to her bosom her fainting son.
Monte-Cristo carried them both to the salon, and deposited them on a sofa. "Compose yourself, madame," said he, "all danger is over."
The lady looked up at these words, and, with a glance far more expressive than any entreaties could have been, pointed to her child, who still continued insensible.
"I understand, madame," said the count, carefully examining the child, "but there is no occasion for uneasiness; he has not received the least injury; his insensibility is merely the effects of terror."
"Are you quite sure you do not say so to tranquillize my fears? See how deadly pale he is! My child! my darling Edward! speak to your mother. Oh, sir, in pity, send for help! my whole fortune for the recovery of my boy."
With a wave of the hand, Monte-Cristo signed to the distracted mother to calm herself; then, opening a casket that stood near, he drew forth a phial of Bohemian glass, containing a liquid of the color of blood, of which he let fall a single drop on the child's lips. Scarcely had it reached them, ere the boy, though still pale as marble, opened his eyes. At this sight, the delight of the mother equaled her former despair.
"Where am I?" exclaimed she, when her first raptures at her son's recovery were past, "and to whom am I indebted for so happy a termination to my late alarm?"
"Madame," answered the count, "you are under the roof of one who esteems himself fortunate in having saved you pain."
"My wretched curiosity has brought all this about," pursued the lady. "All Paris rung with the praises of Madame Danglars' beautiful horses, and I had the folly to desire to try them.""Is it possible," exclaimed the count, with well-feign astonishment, "that these horses belong to Madame la Baronne?"
"They do, indeed. May I inquire if you are acquainted with Madame Danglars?"
"I have that honor; and my happiness at your escape from danger is redoubled by the consciousness that I have been the cause of all the peril. I yesterday purchased these horses of the baron; but as the baroness evidently regretted them, I ventured to send them back to her, with a request that she would accept them from my hands."
"You are, then, doubtless, the Count of Monte-Cristo, of whom Hermine has talked to me so much?" "You have rightly guessed, madame," replied the count.
"And I am Madame Heloise de Villefort."
The count bowed with the air of a person who hears a name for the first time.
"How grateful will M. de Villefort be for all your goodness. To you alone it is owing that his wife and child exist! Most certainly, but for your intrepid servant, this dear child and myself must both have perished."
"Indeed, I still shudder at the fearful danger you were placed in."
"I trust you will not object to my offering a fitting recompense to your servant."
"I beseech you, madame," replied Monte-Cristo, "not to spoil Ali, either by too great praise or rewards. Ali is my slave, and in saving your life he was but discharging his duty to me."
"Nay," interposed Madame de Villefort, on whom this authoritative style made a deep impression, "nay, but consider that he risked his life."
"His life madame, belongs to me, for I saved it."
Madame de Villefort made no further reply: her mind was absorbed in the contemplation of the man, who, from the first instant of her beholding him, had made so powerful an impression on her. During the evident preoccupation of Madame de Villefort, Monte-Cristo scrutinized the features and appearance of the boy she kept covering with kisses.
The child was small for his age, and unnaturally pale. A mass of straight black hair, defying all attempts to train or curl it, fell over his projecting forehead, and hung down to his shoulders, giving increased vivacity to eyes already sparkling with a youthful love of mischief and fondness for every forbidden enjoyment. His mouth was large, and the lips, which had not yet regained their color, were particularly thin; in fact, the deep and crafty look, forming the principal character of the child's face, belonged rather to a boy of twelve or fourteen years of age than to one so young.
His first movement was to free himself by a violent push from the encircling arms of his mother, and to open the casket from whence the count had taken the phial of elixir; then, without asking permission of any one, he proceeded, like a child unaccustomed to restrain his caprices, to pull the corks out of all the bottles.
"Touch nothing, my little friend," cried the count, eagerly; "some of those liquids are not only dangerous to taste, but even to smell."
Madame de Villefort became very pale, and, seizing her son's arm, drew him anxiously toward her; but, once satisfied of his safety, she also cast a brief but expressive glance on the casket, which was not lost upon the count. At this moment Ali entered. At sight of him Madame de Villefort uttered an expression of pleasure, and, holding the child still closer toward her, she said:
"Edward, dearest, do you see that good man? He has shown great courage, for he exposed his own life to stop the horses that were running away with us, and would certainly have dashed the carriage to pieces. Thank him, then, my child; for had he not come to our aid, neither you nor I would be alive." The child stuck out his lips and turned away his head in a contemptuous manner, saying:
"He's too ugly!"
The count smiled as if he thought that such a child bade fair to realize one part of his hopes, while Madame de Villefort reprimanded her son with a moderation that would not have pleased Jean-Jacques Rousseau if Edward had been called Emile.
"This lady," said the count, speaking to Ali in the Arabic, language, "is desirous that her son should thank you for saving both their lives; but the boy refuses, saying you are too ugly!"
Ali turned his intelligent countenance toward the boy, on whom he gazed without any apparent emotion; but the sort of spasmodic working of the nostrils showed to the practiced eye of Monte-Cristo how deeply the Arab was wounded.
"Monsieur," said Madame de Villefort, as she rose to take her leave, "do you usually reside here?"
"No, I do not," replied Monte-Cristo; "it is a small place I have purchased quite lately. My place of abode is No. 30, Avenue des Champs Elysees. I see you have quite recovered, and are desirous of returning home. I have desired the same horses you came with to be put to one of my carriages, and Ali, he whom you think so very ugly," continued he, addressing the boy with a smiling air, "will have the honor of driving you home, while your coachman remains here to attend to the necessary repairs of your caleche. Directly that important business is concluded, I will have a couple of my own horses harnessed to convey it direct to Madame Danglars."
"I dare not return with those dreadful horses," said Madame de Villefort.
"You will see," replied Monte-Cristo, "that in the hands of Ali they will be gentle as lambs."
Ali had, indeed, gone up to the animals, that had been got upon their legs with considerable difficulty, and rubbed their foreheads and nostrils with a sponge soaked in aromatic vinegar, and wiped off the sweat and foam that covered their mouths. They at once breathed heavily, and for some seconds shivered in every limb. Then, undisturbed by the noisy crowd collected round the broken carriage, Ali quietly harnessed the pacified animals to the count's chariot, took the reins in his hands, and mounted the box, when lo! to the utter astonishment of those who had witnessed the ungovernable spirit of the same horses, he was actually compelled to apply his whip in no very gentle manner ere he could induce them to start; and even then all that could be obtained from the celebrated "dappled grays," now changed into a couple of dull, sluggish stupid brutes, was a slow, pottering pace, kept up with so much difficulty that Madame de Villefort was more than a couple of hours returning to her residence in the Faubourg St. Honoré.
Scarcely had the first congratulations upon her escape been gone through, than she wrote the following letter to Madame Danglars:—
"Dear Hermine,—I have just been saved from the most imminent danger, by the very Count of Monte-Cristo we were talking about yesterday, but whom I little expected to see today. I remember how unmercifully I laughed at what I considered your enthusiasm; but I now admit that your enthusiastic description of this wonderful man fell far short of his merits. Your horses ran away at Ranelagh as if they were mad, and Edward and I would probably have been dashed to pieces against the first object that impeded their progress, when a strange-looking man, an Arab or a Nubian, at least a black of some nation or other, at a signal from the count, whose domestic he is, suddenly seized and stopped the infuriated animals, even at the risk of being trampled to death himself; and certainly he must have had a most wonderful escape.
"The count then hastened to us, and carried myself and son into his house, where, by some skillful application, he speedily recalled my poor Edward (who was quite insensible from terror) to life. When we were sufficiently recovered, he sent us home in his own carriage. Yours will be returned to you to-morrow. I am fearful you will not be able to use your horses for some days; they seem thoroughly stupefied, as if sulky and vexed at having allowed this man to conquer them after all. The count, however, has commissioned me to assure you that two or three days' rest, with plenty of barley for their sole food during that time, will bring them back to their former fine condition, which means, I suppose, the same headstrong fury as they evinced yesterday.
"Adieu! I cannot return you many thanks for the drive of yesterday; but, after all, I ought not to blame you for the misconduct of your horses, more especially as it procured me the pleasure of an introduction to the Count of Monte-Cristo, and certainly that illustrious stranger, apart from the millions he is said to dispose of, seemed to me one of those curiously interesting problems I, for one, delight in solving at any risk or danger. Nay, so bent am I on following up my acquaintance with this remarkable personage, that if all other means fail, I really believe I shall have to borrow your horses again, and make another excursion to the Bois de Boulogne.
"My sweet Edward supported the accident with admirable courage he fainted but did not utter a single cry before, nor shed a tear after. You will consider these praises the result of blind maternal affection, but that delicate, fragile form contains a soul of iron. Valentine sends many affectionate remembrances to your dear Eugenie and with best love to her and yourself, I remain,
"Ever yours truly,
"P. S.—Do pray contrive some means for my meeting the Count of Monte-Cristo at your house. I must and will see him again. I have just made M. de Villefort promise to call on him, and I hope his visit will be returned."
Nothing was talked of throughout the evening but the adventure at Auteuil. Albert related it to his mother, Chateau-Benaud recounted it at the Jockey Club, and Debray detailed it at length in the salons of the minister; even Beauchamp accorded to it twenty lines in his journal, thereby placing him as a hero before all the fair members of the aristocracy of France.
Vast was the crowd of visitors and inquiring friends who left their names at the hotel of Madame de Villefort, with the design of renewing their visit at the right moment, of hearing from her lips all the interesting circumstances of this most romantic adventure.
As Heloise had stated, M. de Villefort donned his best black suit, drew on a pair of new white kid gloves, ordered the servants to attend the carriage dressed in their full livery, and forthwith drove to the hotel of the count, situated, as the reader is already informed, in the Avenue des Champs Elysees.