E-text prepared by Juergen Lohnert, Martin Pettit, and the Project
Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net)
Transcriber's Note:
Obvious typographical errors have been corrected, and
inconsistent spelling has been made consistent.
This volume does not have any illustrations.
The Works of Alexandre Dumas in Thirty Volumes
THE SON OF MONTE-CRISTO
VOLUME TWO
Illustrated with Drawings on Wood by
Eminent French and American Artists
[Illustration: Publisher's logo]
New York
P. F. Collier and Son
MCMIV
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 de
Morcerf, ready to listen to the story of Fanfaro's adventures, which, as
narrated 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 was
pursuing the road which leads through the Black Forest from Breisach to
Freiburg. The rider was a man in the prime of life. He wore a long brown
overcoat, reaching to his knees, and shoes fastened with steel buckles.
His powdered hair was combed back and tied with a black band, while his
head was covered with a cap that had a projecting peak. The evening
came, and darkness spread over the valley: the Black Forest had not
received its name in vain. A few miles from Freiburg there stands a
lonely hill, named the Emperor's Chair. Dark masses of basalt form the
steps of this natural throne; tall evergreens stretch their branches
protectingly over the hill. A fresh mountain air is cast about by the
big 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 of
the Marquis de Fougereuse, and the darker the road became the more
uncomfortable he felt. He continually spurred on his horse, but the
tired animal at every stride struck against tree roots which lined the
narrow path.
"Quick, Margotte," said Pierre to the animal, "you know how anxiously we
are awaited, and besides we are the bearers of good news."
The animal appeared to understand the words, began to trot again at a
smart 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 of
church-bells.
Pierre had now reached a hill, upon which century-old lindens stretched
their leafless branches toward heaven; the road parted at this point,
and the rider suddenly reined in his horse. One of the paths led to
Breisach, the other to Gundebfingen. Pierre rose in the stirrups and
cautiously glanced about, but then he shook his head and muttered:
"Curious, I can discover nothing, and yet I thought I heard the clatter
of a horse's hoofs."
He mechanically put his hand in his breast-pocket and nodded his head in
a 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 the
sound of a horse's hoofs on the frozen ground, and in a twinkling a
horse bounded past Pierre like the wind. It was the second rider who had
rushed past the servant at such a rapid gait.
Pierre was not superstitious, yet he felt his heart move quickly when
the horseman galloped past him, and old legends about spectres rose up
in his mind. Perhaps the rider was the wild huntsman of whom he had
heard 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 took
a pistol out of the saddle-bag. He cocked the trigger and continued on
his way, while he muttered to himself:
"Courage, old boy; if it should come to the worst you will kill your
man."
Pierre rode on unembarrassed, and had reached a road which would bring
him 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 bushes
parted and a man enveloped in a long cloak sprung forth and rushed upon
the servant. The moment he put his hand on the horse's rein, Pierre
raised himself and in an angry voice exclaimed:
"Not so quickly, bandits!"
At the same moment he aimed his pistol and fired. The bandit uttered a
moan and recoiled. But he did not sink to the ground as Pierre had
expected. He disappeared in the darkness. A second shot fired after him
struck in the nearest tree, and Pierre swore roundly.
"Confound the Black Forest," he growled as he rode along; "if I had not
fortunately had my leather portfolio in my breast-pocket, I would be a
dead man now! The scoundrel must have eyes like an owl: he aimed as well
as if he had been on a rifle range. Hurry along, Margotte, or else a
second highwayman may come and conclude what the other began."
The horse trotted along, and Pierre heard anew the gallop of a second
animal. The bandit evidently desired to keep his identity unknown.
"Curious," muttered Pierre, "I did not see his face, but his voice
seemed familiar."