THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
VOLUME TWO
Illustrated with Drawings on Wood byEminent French and American Artists
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New YorkP. F. Collier and SonMCMIV
CONTENTS
I. FANFARO'S ADVENTURES 3
II. THE GOLDEN SUN 7
III. OLD AND NEW ACQUAINTANCES 16
IV. BROTHER AND SISTER 23
V. MASTER AND SERVANT 31
VI. THE PERFORMANCE 41
VII. PIERRE LABARRE 49
VIII. A MEETING 59
IX. THE GRATITUDE OF A NOBLEMAN 64
X. ESCAPED 73
XI. IN PARIS 79
XII. THE "MARQUIS" 92
XIII. THE PURSUIT 113
XIV. LOUISE 123
XV. SWINDLED 128
XVI. MACHIAVELLI AND COMPANY 134
XVII. LOUISON 139
XVIII. THE CANAL 143
XIX. SPLENDOR 147
XX. IN LEIGOUTTE 154
XXI. EXCITED 163
XXII. THE TRIAL 177
XXIII. THE CRISIS 180
XXIV. THE AUTOPSY 192
XXV. FROM SCYLLA TO CHARYBDIS 198
XXVI. MISTAKEN 204
XXVII. FREEDOM--BENEDETTO'S REVENGE 207
XXVIII. SPERO 215
XXIX. FORWARD, MARCH 221
XXX. JANE ZILD 228
XXXI. A THUNDERBOLT 240
XXXII. OLD ACQUAINTANCES 246
XXXIII. THE CATASTROPHE 252
XXXIV. A SHOT 262
XXXV. WILL SHE LIVE? 267
XXXVI. MELOSAN'S SECRET 271
XXXVII. CARMEN 287
XXXVIII. RECOLLECTIONS 297
XXXIX. DISAPPEARED 302
XL. A CONFESSION 311
XLI. ON THE TRAIL 318
XLII. THE TRAP 323
XLIII. THE PATH OF THORNS 326
XLIV. THE PASHA 330
XLV. HOW CARMEN KEEPS HER WORD 333
XLVI. IN COURBEVOIE 338
XLVII. THE DEVOTED 341
XLVIII. UNITED IN DEATH 344
XLIX. THE SPECTRE 347
L. 349
EPILOGUE--THE ABBE DANTES 351
THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
CHAPTER I
FANFARO'S ADVENTURES
Spero, the son of Monte-Cristo, was peacefully sleeping in another room,while, gathered around the table in the dining-room of Fanfaro's house,were Monte-Cristo, Miss Clary, Madame Caraman, Coucou, and Albert deMorcerf, ready to listen to the story of Fanfaro's adventures, which, asnarrated at the close of the preceding volume, he was about to begin.
The following is Fanfaro's narrative:
It was about the middle of December, 1813, that a solitary horseman waspursuing the road which leads through the Black Forest from Breisach toFreiburg. The rider was a man in the prime of life. He wore a long brownovercoat, reaching to his knees, and shoes fastened with steel buckles.His powdered hair was combed back and tied with a black band, while hishead was covered with a cap that had a projecting peak. The eveningcame, and darkness spread over the valley: the Black Forest had notreceived its name in vain. A few miles from Freiburg there stands alonely hill, named the Emperor's Chair. Dark masses of basalt form thesteps of this natural throne; tall evergreens stretch their branchesprotectingly over the hill. A fresh mountain air is cast about by thebig trees, and the north wind is in eternal battle with this giant,which it bends but can never break.
Pierre Labarre, the solitary horseman, was the confidential servant ofthe Marquis de Fougereuse, and the darker the road became the moreuncomfortable he felt. He continually spurred on his horse, but thetired animal at every stride struck against tree roots which lined thenarrow path.
"Quick, Margotte," said Pierre to the animal, "you know how anxiously weare awaited, and besides we are the bearers of good news."
The animal appeared to understand the words, began to trot again at asmart pace, and for a time all went well.
Darker and darker grew the night, the storm raged fiercer and fiercer,and the roar of the distant river sounded like the tolling ofchurch-bells.
Pierre had now reached a hill, upon which century-old lindens stretchedtheir leafless branches toward heaven; the road parted at this point,and the rider suddenly reined in his horse. One of the paths led toBreisach, the other to Gundebfingen. Pierre rose in the stirrups andcautiously glanced about, but then he shook his head and muttered:
"Curious, I can discover nothing, and yet I thought I heard the clatterof a horse's hoofs."
He mechanically put his hand in his breast-pocket and nodded his head ina satisfied way.
"The portfolio is still in the right place," he whispered. "Forward,Margotte--we must get under shelter."
But just as the steed was about to start, the rider again heard thesound of a horse's hoofs on the frozen ground, and in a twinkling ahorse bounded past Pierre like the wind. It was the second rider who hadrushed past the servant at such a rapid gait.
Pierre was not superstitious, yet he felt his heart move quickly whenthe horseman galloped past him, and old legends about spectres rose upin his mind. Perhaps the rider was the wild huntsman of whom he hadheard so much, or what was more likely, it was no spectre, but a robber.This last possibility frightened Pierre very much. He bent down and tooka pistol out of the saddle-bag. He cocked the trigger and continued onhis way, while he muttered to himself:
"Courage, old boy; if it should come to the worst you will kill yourman."
Pierre rode on unembarrassed, and had reached a road which would bringhim to Freiburg in less than half an hour. Suddenly a report was heard,and Pierre uttered a hollow groan. A bullet had struck his breast.
Bending with pain over his horse's neck he looked about. The bushesparted and a man enveloped in a long cloak sprung forth and rushed uponthe servant. The moment he put his hand on the horse's rein, Pierreraised himself and in an angry voice exclaimed:
"Not so quickly, bandits!"
At the same moment he aimed his pistol and fired. The bandit uttered amoan and recoiled. But he did not sink to the ground as Pierre hadexpected. He disappeared in the darkness. A second shot fired after himstruck in the nearest tree, and Pierre swore roundly.
"Confound the Black Forest," he growled as he rode along; "if I had notfortunately had my leather portfolio in my breast-pocket, I would be adead man now! The scoundrel must have eyes like an owl: he aimed as wellas if he had been on a rifle range. Hurry along, Margotte, or else asecond highwayman may come and conclude what the other began."
The horse trotted along, and Pierre heard anew the gallop of a secondanimal. The bandit evidently desired to keep his identity unknown
.
"Curious," muttered Pierre, "I did not see his face, but his voiceseemed familiar."