THE LION IN CONFLICT WITH THE LION
We must go back with our story four days. Sixty leagues from Uargla an
immense caravan was encamped. Not a tree or a green leaf could be seen
for miles around, and yet it was here that Monte-Cristo cast his tent.
Hardly had he arrived at Bona than he regained the vigor of his youthful
days, and two hours after his landing Monte-Cristo was already on his
way to the desert with a well-organized caravan. One hundred energetic
men accompanied him, and his train consisted of two hundred horses and
eight hundred camels. He and Spero were at the head of the party;
Bertuccio, Jacopo and Coucou followed behind. Before he had left the
ship, the count had called his son aside, and putting a map before him,
he pointed with his finger to Uargla and said:
"This is the place we must go to--in Uargla we shall find what we are
looking for."
Monte-Cristo knew that in the centre of the desert the queen of the
oases, Uargla, lay, and that it was the principal refuge of sedition. He
had known that Abd-el-Kader's imprisonment was but the commencement of a
long and bloody war. The name given him by the Zouave, Mohammed ben
Abdallah, he knew to be that of a treacherous villain. How did it
happen, then, that Monte-Cristo had not recognized in the Arab who
enjoyed his hospitality Mohammed ben Abdallah? The count had been
rewarded for his generosity by having his cabin broken open, the
contents of his safe scattered about, and being told to beware of the
Khouans.
What the Fenians are to Ireland, the Thugs to India, the Khouans are to
Arabia. They formed a brotherhood whose object was the murder and
annihilation of all Europeans and Christians. Monte-Cristo knew the
savage nature of these enemies. He was now within four days' journey of
Uargla, and began to hope that perhaps he would find what he was
seeking. When night came, Monte-Cristo withdrew with Spero to his tent.
The count wrote to Haydee. A courier went north every day, but
Monte-Cristo had not yet been able to send Mercedes any consolation.
Spero, tired out by the fatigues of the day, had fallen asleep, and the
father often gazed with pleasure at the finely chiselled face. How many
dreams and hopes rested on this son! Yes, when he gazed at Spero, he had
to confess that he had dealt too harshly with Morcerf. If he had been a
father at that time, he would have hesitated before he had carried out
his plan of vengeance. Ah! he must hurry and bring back to Mercedes her
son, so that the punishment should not fall on Spero's head.
Suddenly Spero uttered a cry in his sleep, and looked wildly about him.
"No, no; let me go! Papa, help--they are carrying me away--help me!"
Monte-Cristo, frightened, bent over the sleeping boy.
"What is the matter, Spero?" he asked, tenderly; "have you been
dreaming?"
"Oh, how glad I am it was only a dream! I will tell it to you."
"Speak, Spero, I am listening. You know," he consolingly added, "dreams
are untrue."
"Yes, you have often told me that, and yet--"
The child paused and looked timidly in the corner of the tent.
"Why do you look so timidly over there?" asked the count, anxiously.
"Papa, do not laugh at me," whispered Spero, "but I do not think I was
asleep. A little while ago, I saw the curtains of the tent part and a
dark form appeared at the aperture."
"When was it, Spero?"
"At the moment when you laid the pen down and came to me."
"You saw me then? You were not sleeping?"
"I do not know, papa; I have read of the eye of the serpent, which
frightens the little birds and prevents them from making a single
movement. I could not move, and the two men drew near me. They pressed
their long hands upon my forehead and wished to drag me off. Then
finally I screamed and they disappeared."
Monte-Cristo embraced the excited child and reassuringly murmured:
"Keep quiet, Spero, I am with you."
Monte-Cristo looked thoughtful. Suppose his boy should be taken from
him? No, it was nonsense. Spero must have been dreaming.
"Spero," he said, turning to the child, "I shall watch over your
slumbers! Lie down again and have no fear. Come, I will kiss you; think
of your mother and go to sleep."
The boy smiled now and his pale cheeks grew rosy. His father's voice
gave him courage, and, laying his head upon Monte-Cristo's shoulder, he
fell asleep, murmuring: "Dear, dear mother."
When he was fast asleep, Monte-Cristo gently withdrew his arm and softly
walked to the corner of the tent. The cloth of which the tent was made
was very strong and thick, and withstood the rays of the sun and the
rain. When the count let his hand glide over it, he almost uttered a cry
of astonishment. Spero had not been dreaming! The tent had been cut from
top to bottom as if with a sharp sword.
Who had any interest in breaking into his tent? Did they wish to kill
him or Spero?
The count turned deadly pale. He had tried to reassure Spero by telling
him that dreams were untruths, but he himself felt disturbed. Throwing
the curtains of the tent aside, Monte-Cristo went out into the night.
The pale moonlight shone full upon the dark rocks. With the sharp glance
of an eagle Monte-Cristo gazed about. It seemed hardly possible to him
that two men had gone through the camp unhindered and undisturbed, and
yet it was so. The cut in the canvas was the best proof of this. Shaking
his head, the count returned to the tent and mended the tear in the
cloth with fine wire thread. Thereupon he shoved the table near the wall
and began to write. Spero could sleep peacefully; his father was
watching. Haydee had intrusted the child to him, and he had to bring it
back to her in safety. Suddenly he was aroused by the roar of a lion.
The count seized a gun, flung his arm about Spero, whom he would not
have left alone for the world, and hurried out. The Arabs, stricken with
terror, had fled in all directions.
"Let no one stir!" shouted the count above the din. "I will answer for
your life, but you must obey my orders."
"Here I am," said Coucou, coming forward. "Master, let me follow you. I
know the lion and understand how to fight him."
"Master, take my life, but spare your own," implored Jacopo.
"Jacopo, Coucou," said the count, "I intrust Spero to you, and let no
one fire until I do. The first shot belongs to me. If I should miss the
lion, then you can take your turn."
A new uproar was heard, followed by the report of a gun.
"A man seems to have attacked the beast," said the count, running in the
direction whence the sound proceeded.
To his horror he saw a man lying on the ground, and the lion standing
over him with one paw on his breast. It was Bertuccio, Benedetto's
foster-father. Carefully, fearlessly, looking into the yellow eye of the
king of beasts, Monte-Cristo advanced. The lion growled. The slightest
movement would have caused Bertuccio's death. With a bound it sprang at
the count. Quick as thought the latter fired. With a roar of pain the
majestic beast turned in the air and fell to the ground, dead. The next
minute the count knelt at Bertuccio's side. The latter was unconscious.
The count raised his pale face, and, dashing some water over it,
gradually restored the old man to his senses.
"Bertuccio," he softly said, "do you know me?"
"Yes, master. Ah, the lion has finished me! Its claws were buried like
daggers in my breast."
"Have you nothing to say to me? Have you no wish to be carried out?
Speak, you know I am your friend."
"Quick, quick!" he whispered, breathlessly; "one
more--drop--Spero--you--"
"Drink!" said the count, placing a bottle to his lips.
"Master, beware of your enemies. I saw them, I followed them, and then I
met the lion."
"Enemies, you say? How many were there?"
"Two. They were Arabs. Ajassuas, as I believe. Oh, beware of them!"
"Bertuccio, since twenty years you have been a faithful friend to me.
Speak, and I swear on my honor I will do what you say."
"My dear master--it is--about--that wretch."
"You speak of Benedetto?"
"Yes. I would have killed him then if you had not held me back, but yet
I am glad I did not do it. I ask you as a favor to--"
"To what?"
"To let Benedetto live, if he should ever cross your path. He must not
die by your hand."
"I swear not to kill him, Bertuccio; by the head of my child."
Bertuccio muttered his thanks, and passed silently away.
"The lion has conquered the lion," whispered a voice close to the
count.
Monte-Cristo turned around and saw a delicate young girl in a white
bernouse.
"Who are you?" he gently asked.