The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (160 page)

The count sat, unruffled, through the preamble in which the speaker announced that he was going to speak of something so serious, so solemn and so vital to the House that it demanded the full attention of his colleagues.

At the first mention of the words ‘Janina’ and ‘Colonel Fernand’, however, Morcerf went so horribly pale that the whole assembly was convulsed by a single shudder and all eyes turned on the count.

Moral wounds have the peculiarity that they are invisible, but do not close: always painful, always ready to bleed when touched, they remain tender and open in the heart.

When the article had been read in the midst of this silence, which was then ruffled by a stir that ceased as soon as the speaker indicated
that he was about to continue, the accuser described his misgivings and began to suggest what a hard task he had taken on. It was M. de Morcerf’s honour and that of the whole House that he sought to defend, by initiating a debate that would deal with these still controversial personal questions. Finally, he concluded by asking for an inquiry to be set up, rapidly enough to nip this slander in the bud and avenge M. de Morcerf by restoring him to the position that public opinion had for so long accorded him.

Morcerf was shaking, smitten by this enormous and unexpected calamity to the point where he could barely stammer out a few words, while casting a haggard look at the faces of his colleagues. His diffidence, which could equally well indicate the astonishment of an innocent man as the shame of a guilty one, gained him some sympathy. Truly generous men are always ready to feel compassion when their enemy’s misfortune exceeds the bounds of their hatred.

The chairman asked for a vote on the inquiry, which was held by members rising or remaining seated. The result was that the inquiry would be held. The count was asked how long he would need to prepare his defence.

Morcerf’s strength had returned as soon as he realized he had survived this terrible blow. ‘Gentlemen and fellow peers,’ he said, ‘time is not what one needs to repel an attack such as that which is here being directed against me by unknown enemies, who are no doubt hiding in the shadows of their own obscurity. I must reply instantly, like a thunderbolt, to this flash of lightning that for an instant dazzled me. How I wish that, instead of such self-justification, I could spill my blood to prove to my colleagues that I am worthy to be counted as one of their peers.’

These words made a favourable impression.

‘Consequently,’ he continued, ‘I request that the inquiry should be held as soon as possible and I shall give the House all the documents necessary to facilitate it.’

‘When would you like the inquiry to begin?’ asked the chairman.

‘I am at the disposal of the House immediately,’ the count replied.

The chairman rang his bell. ‘Is the House of the opinion that this inquiry should take place today?’ he asked.

‘Yes!’ came the unanimous reply from the assembly.

A twelve-member commission was chosen to decide what documents Morcerf should be required to provide. The first session of this commission was to convene at eight o’clock in the evening in
the offices of the House. If several sessions were needed, they would be held at the same time, in the same place.

Once this had been decided, Morcerf asked permission to retire. He had to collect the documents that he had long been gathering, to brave a storm that his cunning and indomitable character had warned him would eventually descend upon him.

Beauchamp told the young man everything that we have just told the reader, with the difference that his account enjoyed the immediacy of a living thing, as compared to a dead one.

Albert listened, trembling now with hope, now with anger, at times with shame – for, from what Beauchamp had confided to him, he knew that his father was guilty and wondered how, in that case, he could succeed in proving his innocence.

When he got to this point, Beauchamp paused.

‘And then?’ Albert asked.

‘And then…’ Beauchamp repeated.

‘Yes.’

‘My friend, that word imposes a dreadful compulsion upon me. Do you wish to know what happened next?’

‘There is absolutely no alternative; and I should prefer to learn it from your lips, my friend, than from any others.’

‘Very well,’ said Beauchamp. ‘Prepare your courage, Albert, because you will never have had greater need of it.’

Albert drew a hand across his forehead to reassure himself as to his own strength, like a man preparing to defend his life who tests his armour and flexes the blade of his sword. He felt strong, mistaking his fever for energy.

‘Go on!’ he said.

‘The evening came,’ Beauchamp continued. ‘All Paris was on tenterhooks. Many people said that your father had only to show himself for the charges to collapse, while many others said that he would not appear. Some claimed they had seen him leaving for Brussels, and a few went to the police to ask if it was true, as they had heard, that the count had collected his passport.

‘I admit that I did everything I could,’ Beauchamp went on, ‘to get a member of the commission, a young peer who is a friend of mine, to gain admission for me to some kind of gallery in the chamber. At seven o’clock he came to fetch me and, before anyone else had arrived, handed me over to an usher who shut me into a sort of box, like a box in the theatre: I was concealed by a pillar
and wrapped in total darkness, so I could reasonably hope to see and hear each of the terrible events that were about to take place. By eight o’clock exactly, everyone had assembled.

‘Monsieur de Morcerf came in as the clock had just finished striking. He had some papers in his hands and his face appeared calm. For him, his manner was unusually simple, and his dress studied and severe. In the manner of an old soldier, he wore his coat buttoned from top to bottom.

‘His entrance was very favourably received. The commission was certainly not ill-disposed towards him, and several of its members came over to offer him their hands.’

Albert felt that his heart would break on learning these details, yet in the midst of his pain he experienced a feeling of gratitude: he would like to have been able to embrace these men who had given his father this sign of their esteem when his honour had been so gravely challenged.

‘At that moment an usher came in and gave the chairman a letter. “You have the floor, Monsieur de Morcerf,” he said, as he was breaking the seals.

‘The count began his defence and, I assure you, Albert,’ Beauchamp went on, ‘he spoke with extraordinary eloquence and skill. He produced documents to prove that the vizier of Janina, to his very last hour, had honoured him with his entire confidence, since he had entrusted him with a life-and-death mission to the emperor himself. He showed the ring, a token of authority which Ali Pasha commonly used to seal his letters, and which he had given him so that when he returned, he could have access to him, at whatever hour of the day or night, even if he was in his harem. Unfortunately, he said, his mission had failed and, when he returned to defend his benefactor, Ali was already dead. But as he died, the count said, so great was Ali Pasha’s confidence in him that he had entrusted his favourite mistress and their daughter to him.’

Albert shuddered at these words because, even while Beauchamp was speaking, the young man was recalling the whole of Haydée’s story and he remembered what the beautiful Greek girl had said about that message, that ring and how she was sold into slavery.

‘What was the effect of the count’s speech?’ Albert asked anxiously.

‘I must admit I found it moving, and so did the whole commission,’ said Beauchamp.

‘However, the chairman casually glanced at the letter that had just been brought to him. But as he read the first lines, his interest was awakened. He read it once, then again and said, looking hard at Monsieur de Morcerf: “Count, you have just told us that the vizier of Janina entrusted his wife and daughter to you?”

‘ “Yes, Monsieur,” Morcerf replied. “But here, as in the rest, I was pursued by misfortune. On my return, Vasiliki and her daughter, Haydée, had vanished.”

‘ “Did you know them?”

‘ “The confidence that the pasha placed in my loyalty and the intimate nature of our relationship meant that I was able to see them more than twenty times.”

‘ “Have you any idea what became of them?”

‘ “Yes, Monsieur. I heard that they succumbed to their grief and perhaps to poverty. I was not rich, my own life was in serious danger and, to my great regret, I was not able to look for them.”

‘The chairman frowned imperceptibly. “Gentlemen,” he said, “you have heard what Monsieur le Comte de Morcerf has said and followed his explanation. Now, Count, can you bring forward any witness in support of the account you have just given us?”

‘ “Alas, no, Monsieur,” the count replied. “All those around the vizier who knew me at his court are either dead or scattered across the world. I believe that I am alone among my compatriots to have survived that frightful war. I have the letters of Ali Tebelin which I have shown you; I have the ring which was the token of his authority – here it is; and finally I have the most convincing refutation that I can supply to this anonymous attack, which is the absence of any witness against my word as an honourable man and the unblemished record of my military career.”

‘A murmur of approval ran through the assembly. At that moment, Albert, if nothing had intervened, your father’s case was won.

‘All that was left was to proceed to a vote, when the chairman asked to be heard. “Gentlemen,” he said, “and you, Count, I suppose you will not be displeased to hear someone who claims to be a very important witness and who has just presented himself here of his own accord. Having listened to our colleague, we cannot doubt that this witness will prove his entire innocence. Here is the letter that I have just received on the matter. Would you like it to be read out, or will you decide to discard it and ignore this incident?”

‘Monsieur de Morcerf paled and gripped the papers he was holding even tighter, so that they rustled audibly in his hands.

‘The commission decided to hear the letter. As for the count, he was thoughtful and offered no opinion one way or the other. So the chairman read the following.

‘ “Monsieur le président,

‘ “I can supply the most definite information to the commission of enquiry which has been charged with examining the conduct in Epirus and Macedonia of Lieutenant-General, the Comte de Morcerf…”

‘Here the chairman paused. The colour drained from the count’s face and the chairman looked enquiringly around the assembly.

‘ “Carry on!” they cried in every part of the room. The chairman continued:

‘ “I was present at the death of Ali Pasha. I witnessed his final moments. I know what became of Vasiliki and Haydée. I am at the disposal of the commission, and even demand the honour of being heard. I shall be in the hall of the House at the moment when this letter is given to you.”

‘ “And who is this witness – or, rather, this enemy?” the count asked in a voice which was audibly and profoundly distorted by his feelings.

‘ “That we shall discover, Monsieur,” the chairman replied. “Does the commission agree that we should hear this witness?”

‘ “Yes, yes,” every voice cried simultaneously.

‘The usher was recalled. “Usher,” the chairman asked, “is there someone waiting in the hall?”

‘ “Yes, Monsieur le président.”

‘ “Who is this person?”

‘ “A lady accompanied by a servant.”

‘Everyone exchanged glances.

‘ “Bring her in,” said the chairman.

‘Five minutes later, the usher reappeared. Every eye was fixed on the door. And I too,’ Beauchamp added, ‘shared in the general mood of expectation and anxiety.

‘Behind the usher walked a woman wrapped in a large cloak which entirely concealed her. Under it, from the shape it outlined and the perfumes that it exhaled, one could guess at the presence of an elegant young woman, but no more.

‘The chairman asked the stranger to remove her veil and it could
then be seen that she was dressed in Greek costume; and, in addition to that, she was of outstanding beauty.’

‘Ah,’ said Morcerf. ‘Her.’

‘Whom do you mean: her?’

‘Haydée.’

‘Who told you?’

‘Alas, I guessed it. But, Beauchamp, please continue. You can see that I am calm and strong. We must be coming to the end.’

‘Monsieur de Morcerf,’ Beauchamp continued, ‘looked at the woman with a mixture of surprise and alarm. For him, it was life or death that hung on those charming lips, while, for everyone else, this was such a strange and curious adventure that the loss or salvation of Monsieur de Morcerf had become a secondary consideration.

‘The chairman gestured the young woman towards a seat, but she indicated that she would remain standing. As for the count, he had fallen back into his chair and it was clear that his legs would no longer carry him.

‘ “Madame,” the chairman said, “you wrote to the commission to offer some information about the affair at Janina and you claim that you were an eye-witness of the events.”

‘ “Indeed I was,” the stranger replied with a voice imbued with a delightful sadness and stamped with that sonorousness peculiar to Oriental voices.