"SEARCH FOR THE WIFE!"
The count found the Zouave outside the house in animated conversation
with Madame Caraman. Coucou had a special predilection for the "female
sex," and the widow of the sergeant saw in every blue-coat a comrade of
her "blessed one."
"How do you do, madame? Surely you are the companion of the beautiful
little one up-stairs?" and he pointed at the house.
Madame Caraman nodded.
"Well, the little one is well cared for; I often wished that as much had
been done for my education," continued the Zouave obligingly. The
companion laughed and soon a lively conversation commenced. Both were
very fond of chatting together, and when the count made his appearance,
the Zouave grew timid and muttered:
"Dear me, the commander."
Madame Caraman responded respectfully to the Count of Monte-Cristo's
kind salute; the count walked along the street and hailed a passer-by.
Immediately a beautiful carriage with two splendid horses approached,
and after the count had ordered Ali, who sat in front, "to drive around
the town," he and Coucou got inside, where began the conversation in a
friendly manner.
"So--now tell me all you know."
"Immediately, commander, but allow me in the meantime to remark that I
never have ridden in such a splendid carriage."
"One must try all things," replied the count laughing; "if I have
understood you rightly before it is concerning a report which has come
to the knowledge of Madame Joliette."
"Quite right, commander. Do you see, in some things the ladies are very
distrustful--"
"The long preface makes me conclude that it is concerning a woman,"
interrupted the count.
"Not exactly a woman, she was but a child not more than fifteen years at
the utmost."
"And this child was Captain Joliette's sweetheart?"
"Alas, God forbid--no, that was not the case."
"Well make it short and tell the story."
"At once, sir," began the Zouave bowing. "One evening we had pursued a
troop of Bedouins, and when night set in we were too far away from camp
to reach it. We lay down in a hollow; the terrible howling of panthers
and hyenas was the song to put us to sleep. Toward two o'clock in the
morning I awoke suddenly--the moon had risen and I saw a large dark body
close to the hollow pass by rapidly. I soon got my gun ready and fired.
The sound woke the captain up and he inquired the reason. Ere I had time
to answer, I heard a cry of anguish proceeding from above the hollow--in
two leaps the captain reached the top of the rock and I followed him.
The sight which presented itself was terrible. On the ground lay a white
figure and close by was an enormous panther. The yellow glowing eyes of
the animal and its wide-open blood-red jaws terrified me--the captain
held his poniard in the right hand and hit at all sides. I intended to
fire at the beast, but man and beast rolled over and over again and I
was afraid that I might hit the captain. Now the iron grasp of the
captain had hold of the panther's neck--the animal howled fearfully, and
the next moment the weapon of the man slit the body of the beast open.
The panther turned over, a streak of blood drenching the ground; the
captain, breathing heavily, sank down quite exhausted. I hastened to his
assistance; the panther's paw had torn his breast and the wound caused
him a great deal of pain, but when I tried to dress it he refused and
said firmly:
"Look after the little one, Coucou, don't mind me."
I bent over the white figure; it was a beautiful girl, whose pale,
wax-like face seemed to have become motionless from fright. Long dark
hair hung over her tender cheeks, and on her white shoulder the paw of
the panther had made a large open wound, from which the blood was
flowing.
In the meantime our comrades had hastened to the spot: with their help
the captain rose and his wound was washed and dressed. I did all I could
to revive the child, but was unsuccessful. As soon as the captain could
move again, he ceased thinking of himself, but continually aided me in
my endeavor; bending over the wounded one, he whispered:
"'I hope she is not dead.'"
"He is not the son of his father, but of his mother," muttered
Monte-Cristo to himself, but in a louder tone he then said:
"Who was the girl?"
"I cannot answer who she was," replied the Zouave; "she could scarcely
be persuaded to speak, and only after many cross-questions put to her we
found out that she belonged to one of the tribes in the Sahara which we
continually pursued. Her people ill-treated her, and she resolved to run
away. While seated among the shrubs to rest herself, all at once she
heard the growling of the animal close to her.
"What further happened," continued the Zouave, "I cannot tell; her wound
was, thank God! not dangerous, and we took the poor child with us to the
camp. Our camp was at that time at Laghouat, a small oasis, the springs
of which were considered to possess medicinal properties, and the
captain, together with the little one, were removed thither in sedans.
Heavens! both were surprisingly beautiful--even unto this day I see this
poor young child slowly lift her large dark lashes, and open her dark
almond-shaped eyes. And the captain--oh, commander, his equal cannot
easily be met with--he was in every respect quite different from his
comrades! With him there were no love affairs, no debts; he never
thought about himself, and in battle he was always at the head--a very
pearl of an officer!"
A strange feeling came over the count as he listened to the praiseworthy
words of the Zouave. Had Albert been his son he could not have been more
proud of him. Monte-Cristo was not a man of ordinary nature, otherwise
he would have shown bitter hatred toward the son of Fernand Mandego; but
it appeared to him that the good qualities of the young man atoned for
the faults of the father.
"What was the name of the girl?" he inquired afterward.
"Medje, commander; as soon as she was able to speak the captain inquired
after her name. But when he observed that she, perhaps, might wish to
return to her tribe, she sobbed bitterly, and tried to show in every
respect how much she dreaded it. Who she really was we could never make
out. In that cursed country it is quite different than with us. As soon
as they can muster together ten people they imagine that they are a
nation, and in need of a sultan. From some expressions of Medje we could
form the idea that she was the daughter of such a sultan. The captain
placed his hand over her, and I was present when he said to her:
"'Medje, you do not seem to have a longing for your father; if you wish
to remain with us I will take you under my protection, and I will care
for you as if you were my own daughter.'"
"And what answer did Medje give to that?" inquired the count, eagerly.
"Oh, she kissed his hands, she cried for joy, and was really treated
well by him. He acted toward her as though she were a little queen. She
had her servants, and when the captain went out skirmishing he always
reminded the comrades to take care of her, who accordingly were ready
and willing to put their hands under her feet!"
"What became of her afterward?"
"Yes, that is the great point at issue. When the last expedition, from
which the captain was not to return, was planned, Medje threw herself
around the neck of her protector, and adjured him to remain back. The
captain laughed at her. She had no idea what discipline signified, and,
sobbing, she repeated constantly:
"'Not go away, little papa--not going!'
"Ah, what would not I have given afterward had we taken her advice! When
I alone returned from this unfortunate expedition, I was informed that
Medje had disappeared the same night, almost at the same hour."
"Then the child was a spy!" exclaimed the count, displeased. "She knew
about the expedition, and informed her people accordingly."
"At first I was of the same opinion, but later I changed it, because I
found out that already previous to the expedition suspicious forms were
swarming about our tents. Medje had accidentally seen one of these men,
and, shrieking terribly, she ran away."
"Why did she not give warning to the captain?"
"Who could fathom that? Sure it was that a bold Bedouin, whose name was
quite sufficient to set the whole camp in commotion, and who had been
seen in the neighborhood, and--"
"What was the name of this Bedouin?" inquired Monte-Cristo, eagerly.
"Mohammed ben Abdallah."
"He? Are you not mistaken?" the count inquired, rather excitedly.
"Oh, no, I have heard the name often enough."
"And you do not know who this man really was?"
"No--probably also a marabout, a kind of juggler or sorcerer."
"Did you acquaint your superiors of this sorcerer?" asked the count
after a while.
"No," replied Coucou, rather hesitatingly.
"Then I am surprised that you acquaint me of this," said Monte-Cristo,
while he threw a penetrating glance at the Zouave.
Coucou was silent--he could not explain even to himself wherein lay the
great influence Monte-Cristo had over him.
"You saw Medje constantly," the count took up the topic once more; "have
you never noticed anything striking about her?"
Almost frightened, Coucou looked at the count.
"Yes," said he, then, hesitating; "upon her two cheeks and on her
forehead one could perceive a small red cross; it was tattooed by a
skilful hand, and seemed to become her very well."
Monte-Cristo began to tremble.
"Do you know," he then said, "that Mohammed ben Abdallah is the most
cruel enemy of France, and that he has taken an oath to take vengeance
for Abd-el-Kader? If the captain has fallen into his hands then we shall
never see him again, unless by a miracle."
"Commander, if you take the matter in hand, then a miracle will happen,"
said Coucou, confidently.
"We hope so--and now I shall ride to the hotel, and this evening at ten
o'clock you may there inquire for me," said the count, quite loud; but
he gently whispered: "Mercedes, I must save your son!"