DECEMBER THE FIFTEENTH.
In the morning after a sleepless night, Gilbert went to Count Fenix’s.
The count was lounging on a sofa as though he, too, had not slept during
the night.
“Oh, it is our bridegroom,” he said, laying aside the book he had opened
but was not reading.
“No, my lord,” replied Gilbert, “I have been sent about my business.”
The count turned round entirely.
“Who did this?”
“The lady.”
“That was certain; you ought to have dealt with the father.”
“Fate forbad it.”
“Fate? so we are fatalists?”
“I have no right to believe in faith.”
“Do not juggle with balls which you do not know,” said Balsamo, eyeing
him with curiosity as he frowned. “In grown men it is nonsense, in the
young, rashness. Have pride but don’t be a fool. To resume, what have
you done?”
“Nothing; so I return the money,” and he counted out minutely the notes
on the table.
“He is honest,” mused the count, “not avaricious. He has wit; he has
firmness. He is a man.”
“Now I want to account for the two louis I had.”
“Do not overdo it,” said the other: “it is handsome to restore a hundred
thousand, but puerile to return fifty.”
“I was not going to return them, but I wanted to show how I spent them,
for I need to borrow twenty thousand.”
“You do not mean any evil to the woman?”
“No, not to her father or her brother.”
“I know: but one may wound by dogging a person and annoying him.”
“Far from anything of that kind, I want to leave the country.”
“But it would not cost you more than one thousand for that,” said
Balsamo, in his keen yet unctuous voice conveying no emotions.
“My lord, I shall not have a penny in my pocket when I go aboard the
ship: and I want it for reparation of my fault, which you
facilitated---- ”
“You are rather given to harping on the one string,” observed the other,
with a curling lip.
“Because I am right. I wish the money for another than myself.”
“I see. The child?”
“My child, yes, my lord,” said Gilbert, with marked pride. “I am strong,
free and intelligent. I can make my living anywhere.”
“Oh, you will live well enough. Heaven never gives such spirits to an
inadequate frame. But if you have no money for yourself, how will you
get away? The ports are not open and no captain will take a novice for a
seaman. You suppose that I will aid you to disappear?”
“I know you can, as you have extraordinary powers. A wizard is never so
sure of his power that he does not have more than one trap-door to his
cell.”
“Gilbert,” said the wonder-worker, extending his hand towards the young
man, “you have a bold and adventurous spirit; you are a mingling of good
and bad, like a woman; stoical and honest. Stay with me, my house being
a stronghold, and I will make a very great man of you. Besides, I shall
be leaving Paris shortly.”
“In a few months you might do what you like with me,” Gilbert replied:
“but dazzling as your offer is to an unfortunate man, I have to refuse
it. But I have a duty as well as vengeance to perform.”
“Here is your twenty thousand livres,” said the count.
“You confer obligations like a monarch,” said Gilbert, taking up the
notes.
“Better, I trust, for I expect no return.”
“I will repay, with as many years of service as the sum is equal to.”
“But you are going away. Whither?”
“What do you say to America?”
“I shall be glad to cross the sea at two hour’ notice for any land not
France.”
Balsamo had found in his papers a slip of paper on which were three
signatures and the line: “For Boston from Havre, Dec. 15th, the
_Adonis_, P. J., master.”
“Will the middle of December suit you?”
“Yes,” said Gilbert, having reckoned on his fingers.
Balsamo wrote on a sheet of paper:
“Receive on the _Adonis_ one passenger.
“JOS. BALSAMO.”
“But this is dangerous,” said Gilbert: “I may be locked up in the
Bastile if this be found on me.”
“Overmuch cleverness makes a man a fool,” replied Balsamo. “That is a
vessel of which I am part owner. Go to Havre and ask for the skipper,
Paul Jones.”
“Forgive me, count, and accept all my gratitude.”
“We shall meet again,” said Balsamo.