The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (139 page)

‘The carriage stopped in a driveway off the Rue Saint-Jacques. The general got down, guided by the hand of the president, without being aware of the latter’s eminence: he took him to be a simple member of the club. Crossing the drive, they went up to the first floor of the house and into the council chamber.

‘The meeting had already begun. The members of the club, informed of the person who was to be introduced that evening, were all present. The general was led to the centre of the room and asked to take off his blindfold. He immediately complied and seemed very astonished at finding so many well-known faces in an organization, the very existence of which until then he had not even suspected.

‘He was questioned about his loyalties, but contented himself with the answer that the letters from Elba must have made clear…’

Franz stopped reading. ‘My father was a Royalist,’ he said. ‘There was no need to ask him about his loyalities, which were well known.’

‘Hence my own attachment to him,’ said Villefort. ‘When two people share the same ideas, my dear Franz, they easily become attached to one another.’

‘Read!’ the old man said with a look.

Franz continued: ‘Here, the president requested the general to explain himself more fully, but Monsieur de Quesnel replied that his chief wish was to know what they wanted of him.

‘He was then acquainted with the contents of the letter from the island of Elba, recommending him to the club as a man whose help and co-operation could be counted on. One paragraph dealt at length with the emperor’s probable return from Elba and promised a further letter with more details on the arrival of the ship
Pharaon
, belonging to the shipowner Morrel, of Marseille, whose captain was entirely devoted to the imperial cause.

‘Throughout the time that this was being read, the general, on whom the company had thought they could rely as on a brother, gave on the contrary visible signs of disgust and dissatisfaction.
When the letter had been read, he remained silent, with lowered brow.

‘ “Well?” the president asked. “What do you say to this letter, Monsieur le Général?”

‘ “I say that it is a little soon,” he replied, “since we gave our oaths to King Louis XVIII, for us to violate them on behalf of the former emperor.” This time the reply was too unambiguous for there to be any mistake about his feelings.

‘ “General,” the president said, “for us there is no present King Louis XVIII any more than there is any former emperor. There is only His Majesty the King and Emperor, who for ten months has been exiled from France, his state, by violence and treachery.”

‘ “Excuse me, gentlemen,” said the general. “It may be that for you there is no King Louis XVIII, but there is one for me, since it was he who made me baron and brigadier. I shall never forget that I owe these two titles to his fortunate return to France.”

‘ “Monsieur,” the president said, in the gravest tones, rising to his feet, ‘beware of what you are saying. Your words clearly demonstrate that our friends on Elba were mistaken about you and that they misled us. What you have been told depended on the confidence we had in you and, consequently, on a belief that did you honour. Now it appears we were wrong: a title and a military rank have led you to transfer your loyalty to the new government that we wish to overthrow. We shall not oblige you to assist us: we would not enrol anyone against his conscience and his will; but we shall oblige you to behave as a man of honour, even if you should not be inclined to do so.”

‘ “By man of honour you mean knowing of your conspiracy and not revealing it! I for my part should describe this as being your accomplice. You see that I am even more open than you are.’”

‘Oh, father,’ said Franz, pausing. ‘Now I understand why they killed you.’

Valentine could not help glancing at Franz: the young man was truly handsome in his filial devotion. Villefort was pacing up and down behind him, and Noirtier’s eyes searched the face of everyone there, while the man’s attitude remained stern and dignified.

Franz went back to the manuscript and continued: ‘ “Monsieur,” the president said, “we asked you to come to this meeting, we did not drag you here by force. When we suggested blindfolding you, you did not demur. By agreeing to these two requests, you knew
perfectly well that we were not concerned with bolstering up the throne of King Louis XVIII, because in that case we should not have taken so much trouble to hide from the police. Now, you understand, it would be too convenient if one could put on a mask in order to uncover people’s secrets and then have simply to take off that mask to destroy those who have trusted in you. No, no, you must first of all say frankly if you support this present fortuitous monarch or His Majesty the Emperor.”

‘ “I am a Royalist,” the general replied. “I have sworn an oath to Louis XVIII and I shall keep it.”

‘At these words a murmur ran round the room and, from the looks exchanged between several members of the club, it was evident that they were debating the question of whether Monsieur d’Epinay should be made to regret these rash words.

‘The president rose once more and called for silence. “Monsieur,” he said, “you are too serious and sensible a man not to realize the consequences of the situation in which we stand towards one another. Your very frankness dictates the conditions that we must now impose on you: you must therefore swear on your honour that you will reveal nothing of what you have heard.”

‘The general reached for his sword: “Since you mention honour, then at least start by not ignoring the rules of honour, and do not attempt to impose anything by violence.”

‘ “And you, Monsieur,” the president went on, with a calm that was perhaps more awful than the general’s anger, “I advise you not to touch your sword.”

‘The general looked around him with an expression which betrayed a hint of anxiety. However, he still did not give way but, on the contrary, summoning up all his strength, he said: “I shall not swear!”

‘ “In that case, Monsieur, you will die,” the president replied calmly.

‘Monsieur d’Epinay became very pale. Once more he looked all around him. Several members of the club were muttering and searching for weapons under their cloaks.

‘ “Calm yourself, general,” the president said. “You are among men of honour who will try every means to persuade you, before turning to the last resort. But, as you said, you are also among conspirators and in possession of our secret, so you must restore it to us.”

‘A highly charged silence followed these words and, since the general did not reply, the president ordered the footmen to close the doors. The same deathly silence followed this order. Then the general came forward and, making a violent effort to control his feelings, said: “I have a son, and I must think of him, now that I find myself among murderers.”

‘ “General,” the leader of the assembly said, with dignity, “a single man always has the right to insult fifty: that is the privilege of weakness. However, he is wrong to exercise that right. Believe me, you would do better to swear and not to abuse us.”

‘Once more reduced to silence by the other’s moral superiority, the general hesitated for a moment; then, at last, he walked across to the president’s desk and asked: “What is the form of words you require?”

‘ “The following: I swear on my honour never to reveal to anyone in the world what I saw and heard on February the fifth, 1815, between nine and ten o’clock in the evening, and I declare that I deserve the punishment of death if I should violate this oath.”

‘The general appeared to suffer a nervous tremor that for some seconds prevented him from replying. At length, overcoming his obvious reluctance, he did utter the words required of him, but in such a low voice that it could hardly be heard. Several members therefore demanded that he should repeat it more loudly, and this was done.

‘ “Now I wish to leave,” the general said. “Am I free at last?”

‘The president stood up, nominated three members of the group to accompany him and, after blindfolding the general, got into the carriage with him. One of the three members was the coachman who had brought them. The other members of the club dispersed in silence.

‘ “Where would you like us to take you?” the president asked.

‘ “Wherever I can be delivered from your presence,” Monsieur d’Epinay answered.

‘ “Take care, Monsieur,” the president warned. “You are no longer in a large company – you are dealing with individuals. Don’t insult them unless you wish to take responsibility for your remarks.”

‘But, instead of taking his meaning, Monsieur d’Epinay replied: “You are still as bold in your carriage as you were in your club, for
no other reason, Monsieur, than that four men are always stronger than one.”

‘The president called on the driver to stop the carriage. They had just arrived at the end of the Quai des Ormes, where there is a stairway leading down to the river.

‘ “Why have you pulled up here?” Monsieur d’Epinay asked.

‘ “Because you have insulted a man, Monsieur,” said the president, “and this man does not want to take a step further without demanding that you make honourable amends.”

‘ “Here is yet another method of assassination,” said the general, shrugging his shoulders.

‘ “Silence!” the president replied. “Unless you wish me to consider you as one of those people you referred to a short while ago, that is to say, as a coward who uses his weakness as a shield. You are alone, and one man alone will answer you. You have a sword at your side, and I have one in this cane. You have no second, but one of these gentlemen will serve you. Now, if you are agreeable, you can take off your blindfold.”

‘The general at once tore off the handkerchief around his eyes, saying: “At last, I shall find out whom I am dealing with.”

‘The carriage door was opened and the four men got down…’

Once more Franz paused. He wiped the sweat from his brow: there was something fearful in the sight of this son, pale and trembling, reading aloud these previously unknown details of his father’s death.

Valentine clasped her hands as if in prayer. Noirtier looked at Villefort with an almost sublime expression of contempt and pride.

Franz continued: ‘As we mentioned, it was February the fifth. For the past three days the temperature had fallen to five or six degrees below freezing. The stairway was coated with ice, the general was tall and fat, so the president offered him the side nearest the rail to go down. The two seconds followed behind.

‘The night was dark, the quayside between the stairway and the river was damp with snow and frost, and a few blocks of ice flowed past in the deep, black water. One of the seconds went to fetch a lantern from a coal barge and by the light of it they examined the weapons.

‘The president’s sword, which he said was a simple swordstick, was shorter than that of his opponent and had no handguard. General d’Epinay suggested that they should draw lots for the two
swords, but the president replied that he had provoked the duel and that by so doing he had implied that each of them should use their own weapon. The seconds tried to persuade him, but the president told them to desist.

‘The lantern was set on the ground, the two adversaries stood on either side of it and the duel began. The light transformed the two swords into shafts of lightning, but the men could hardly be seen, so dark was it.

‘The general had the reputation of being one of the best blades in the army. But, from the first passes, he was harried so hard that he gave ground and, in doing so, he fell.

‘The seconds thought he was dead, but his opponent, who knew that he had not hit him, offered his hand to help him back to his feet. This gesture, instead of calming the general, annoyed him and he threw himself in his turn against his opponent.

‘The latter, however, did not give an inch, blocking him against his sword. Three times the general retreated, finding he was too hard-pressed, then returned to the fray. On the third occasion, he fell once more.

‘They thought that he had slipped, as before; but, since he did not get up, the witnesses went over to him and tried to lift him to his feet. Then the man who had taken hold of his shoulders felt something wet beneath his hands. It was blood.

‘The general, who had more or less lost consciousness, recovered his senses and said: “Ah, they sent me some swordsman, some fencing master from the army.”

‘Without replying, the president went over to the second who was holding the lantern and, rolling back his sleeve, showed two wounds that had pierced his arm and then, opening his coat and unbuttoning his waistcoat, he pointed to a third wound in his side. Yet he had not uttered a sigh.

‘General d’Epinay was in his death-agony. He expired five minutes later.’

Franz read these last words in such a choking voice that they could hardly be heard. After reading them, he stopped, passing his hand across his eyes as if to dispel a cloud. But after a moment’s silence, he went on:

‘The president went back up the stairway, after replacing his sword in its stick. A trace of blood in the snow marked his passage. He had not yet reached the top of the stairs when he heard the dull
sound of something hitting the water: it was the general’s body which the seconds had just thrown into the river after confirming that it was dead.

‘Consequently, the general died as the result of an honourable duel and not, as might be supposed, in an ambush.