The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) (61 page)

‘The first three surveyed the scene, saw the two young people, galloped over and began to question them.

‘They had seen nothing.

‘ “That’s annoying,” said the brigadier, “because the one we are looking for is the leader.”

‘ “Cucumetto?” Luigi and Teresa could not refrain from crying out together.

‘ “Yes,” the brigadier said. “And since there is a price of a thousand Roman
écus
on his head, there would have been five hundred for you if you had helped us to capture him.”

‘The couple looked at one another. For a moment, the brigadier’s hopes rose: five hundred Roman
écus
is equal to three thousand francs, and three thousand francs is a fortune for two poor orphans who want to marry.

‘ “Yes, it’s very annoying,” said Vampa, “but we haven’t seen him.”

‘So the
carabinieri
scoured the countryside in different directions, but to no avail. Then, one by one, they left.

‘At this, Vampa went to move the stone and Cucumetto came out.

‘Through the cracks in his granite door, he had seen the two young people chatting with the
carabinieri
and guessed the tenor of the conversation, reading on the faces of Luigi and Teresa their unshakeable determination not to hand him over; so he drew from his pocket a purse full of gold and offered it to them.

‘But Vampa tossed his head proudly. As for Teresa, her eyes shone when she thought of all the rich jewels and fine clothes she could buy with that purse full of gold.

‘Cucumetto was an extremely clever tempter: in him Satan had taken the shape of a bandit rather than a serpent. He intercepted the look and recognized in Teresa a worthy daughter of Eve. He went back into the forest, turning around several times, on the pretext of thanking his liberators.

‘Several days passed without them seeing or hearing any more of Cucumetto.

‘The time of the carnival was approaching. The Count of San-Felice announced that he would be holding a great masked ball to which all the most elegant members of Roman society would be invited. Teresa was very anxious to see this ball. Luigi asked his protector the steward for permission for himself and Teresa to take part in it, concealed among the house servants. Permission was granted.

‘The ball was being given by the count chiefly to please his daughter Carmela, whom he adored. Carmela was just the same age and height as Teresa, and Teresa was at least as beautiful as Carmela.

‘On the evening of the ball, Teresa put on her finest dress, her most expensive pins, her most brilliant glass beads. She was wearing the costume of the women of Frascati. Luigi had on the picturesque clothes worn by a Roman peasant on feast days. Both mingled, as had been agreed, with the waiters and peasants.

‘The feast was splendid. Not only was the villa itself brightly lit, but thousands of coloured lanterns were hanging from the trees in the garden. The guests soon overflowed on to the terraces and then to the alleys in the garden. At each crossroads there was an orchestra, a buffet and refreshments. The strollers paused, a quadrille was formed and they danced wherever the fancy took them.

‘Carmela was dressed as a woman from Sonino. She had a bonnet embroidered with pearls, her hairpins were of gold and diamonds,
her belt was of Turkish silk embroidered with large flowers, her coat and her skirt were of cashmere, her apron was of Indian muslin and the buttons on her bodice were precious stones.

‘Two of her companions were dressed in the costumes of women from Nettuno and La Riccia.

‘Four young men from the richest and noblest families in Rome were accompanying them, with that Italian freedom of manner which has no equivalent in any other country in the world; they were dressed as peasants from Albano, Velletri, Civita Castellana and Sora. It goes without saying that their peasant costumes, like those of the women, glittered with gold and precious stones.

‘Carmela had the idea of making them into a uniform quadrille, but they were short of a woman. She looked around, but not one of the other guests had a costume similar to hers and those of her companions. Then the Count de San-Felice showed her Teresa, leaning on Luigi’s arm among the peasant women.

‘ “May I, father?” said Carmela.

‘ “Of course you may,” the count replied. “After all, it’s carnival!”

‘Carmela leant over to a young man who was walking beside her and talking, and said a few words to him, pointing at the girl. He followed the direction indicated by the pretty hand, made a sign of obedience and went across to invite Teresa to join the quadrille led by the count’s daughter.

‘Teresa felt as if a flame had passed across her face. She looked questioningly at Luigi: there was no way to refuse. Luigi slowly let slip Teresa’s arm which he was holding beneath his own, and Teresa went off, trembling, led by her elegant squire, to take her place in the aristocratic quadrille.

‘Admittedly, to an artist, there was a great difference between the austere, restrained costume worn by Teresa and those worn by Carmela and her companions; but Teresa was a frivolous and coquettish young girl; she was dazzled by the embroidered muslin, the buckles on the belts, the sheen on the cashmere; she was driven wild by the sparkling of the sapphires and diamonds.

‘Luigi, on the other hand, was gripped by a previously unknown emotion: it was like a dull pain, gnawing first at his heart, then quivering as it spread through his veins and took possession of his whole body. His eyes followed every movement made by Teresa and her squire. When their hands touched, he felt a sort of dizziness,
his heart thumped and it was as though a bell were chiming in his ears. When they spoke, though Teresa was listening shyly and with lowered gaze to the young nobleman’s words, Luigi could read in the man’s eyes that they were compliments, and it seemed to him that the earth was spinning beneath his feet, while all the voices of hell whispered ideas of murder and violence. Then, fearing that he might be carried away by his folly, with one hand he clasped the arbour beneath which he was standing, and with the other he grasped convulsively the dagger with the sculpted hilt which he kept in his belt and which, unconsciously, he was drawing from time to time almost entirely out of its sheath.

‘Luigi was jealous! He realized that Teresa, carried away by her proud and capricious nature, might one day be lost to him.

‘Meanwhile, the young peasant girl, at first shy and almost terrified, had quickly recovered. I said that Teresa was beautiful, but that is not all; she had charm, that savage grace that is so much more powerful than any simpering or affected elegance.

‘She almost had the honours of the quadrille and, though she was certainly envious of the count’s daughter, it is not altogether impossible that Carmela was jealous of her.

‘Her handsome squire led her back, accompanied by many compliments, to the place from which he had taken her, where Luigi was waiting.

‘Two or three times, during the contredanse, the girl had cast an eye in his direction and each time had seen him looking pale and drawn. Once, even, the blade of his knife, half drawn out of the sheath, had cast a sinister shaft of light towards her. So she was almost afraid when she returned to her lover’s arm.

‘The quadrille had been a tremendous success and there was clearly a call for the experiment to be repeated. Only Carmela objected, but the Count of San-Felice begged his daughter so tenderly that she eventually consented.

‘One of the young noblemen went across to invite Teresa, without whom the dance could not take place; but she was gone.

‘What had happened was that Luigi, not feeling strong enough to be tested any further, had led Teresa partly by force and partly by persuasion into another part of the garden. She had gone very unwillingly; but from the young man’s distraught appearance and his silence, broken by nervous twitching, she guessed that something unusual was going on in his mind. She herself was not
altogether easy inside and, even though she had not done anything wrong, she understood that Luigi had the right to reproach her. For what? She did not know. Nonetheless she felt that such reproaches would be deserved.

‘Yet, to Teresa’s great astonishment, Luigi remained silent and not a word passed his lips throughout the rest of the evening. But when the chill of the night had driven the guests from the gardens and the doors of the villa had been closed against them while the ball continued indoors, he took Teresa back home and, as she was about to go in, asked: “Teresa, what were you thinking of while you were dancing opposite the young Countess of San-Felice?”

‘ “I was thinking,” the girl answered in all frankness, “that I should give half my life to have a costume like the one she was wearing.”

‘ “And what did your partner say?”

‘ “He told me that it was up to me if I should have such a dress, I had only to say one word.”

‘ “He was right,” Luigi replied. “Do you want it as desperately as you say?”

‘ “Yes.”

‘ “Then you shall have it!”

‘The young girl looked up in astonishment to ask for an explanation, but his face was so sombre and fearful that the question froze on her lips. In any case, while he was speaking, Luigi had started to walk away. Teresa looked after him until he disappeared into the darkness and, when she could no longer see him, she sighed and went into her house.

‘That same night a great accident occurred, no doubt because of the neglectfulness of some servant who had forgotten to put out the lights: the Villa San-Felice caught fire, in the very wing where the beautiful Carmela had her apartments. Woken up in the middle of the night by the glow of the flames, she had leapt out of bed, pulled on her nightgown and tried to escape through the door; but the corridor outside was already enveloped in flames. So she returned to her room, crying loudly for help, when suddenly her window, which was twenty feet off the ground, flew open and a young peasant lad burst into the apartment, took her in his arms and, with superhuman strength and agility, carried her out and down to the lawn, where she fainted. When she regained her senses, her father was standing in front of her, surrounded by all the
servants who were trying to help her. A whole wing of the villa had burned down – but what did it matter, since Carmela was safe and sound?

‘They looked everywhere for her saviour, but he did not appear. Everyone was questioned; no one had seen him. As for Carmela, she was so overwhelmed by events that she did not recognize him.

‘In any event, as the count was immensely rich, apart from the danger that had threatened Carmela – and which appeared to him, thanks to her miraculous escape from it, more like a new sign that fate was smiling on him, rather than a real disaster – the loss caused by the flames mattered very little to him.

‘The next day, at the usual time, the two young peasants met on the edge of the forest. Luigi was the first to arrive. He came joyfully to meet the girl, apparently having entirely forgotten what had passed between them the previous evening. Teresa was pensive but, when she saw Luigi’s good humour, she adopted the attitude of merry insouciance which was her natural temperament when no greater passion happened to disturb it.

‘Luigi took Teresa’s arm in his and led her to the door of the cave. There he stopped. The girl, realizing that something extraordinary was up, stared closely at him.

‘ “Teresa,” he said, “yesterday evening you told me that you would give everything to have a costume like that of the count’s daughter?”

‘ “Yes,” she replied with amazement, “but I was mad to make such a wish.”

‘ “And I told you: very well, you shall have it?”

‘ “Yes,” the girl said, her astonishment growing with every word that Luigi spoke. “But I suppose you only said that to please me.”

‘ “I have never promised you anything which I have not given you, Teresa,” Luigi said proudly. “Go into the grotto, and dress yourself.”

‘At this, he rolled back the stone and showed Teresa the inside of the cave, lit by two candles burning on each side of a splendid mirror. On a rustic table which Luigi had made were the pearl necklace and diamond pins; on a chair beside them, the rest of the costume.

‘Teresa gave a cry of joy and, without asking where the dress had come from or taking the time to thank Luigi, she dashed into the cave which had been transformed into her dressing-room.

‘Luigi pulled the stone back behind her, because he had just noticed a traveller on horseback on the crest of a little hill that blocked the view between where he was and the town of Palestrina. The rider had paused as if uncertain of his way and was outlined against the blue sky with the peculiar sharpness given to distant objects by the atmosphere in southern lands.

‘When he saw Luigi, the traveller galloped down towards him. Luigi had been right: the man was going from Palestrina to Tivoli and had lost his way. The young man put him on the right track; however, since the road divided again into three paths, when the traveller reached them he might lose his way once more, so he begged Luigi to act as his guide.

‘Luigi took off his cloak and put it on the ground, slung his carbine over his shoulder and, free of his heavy shepherd’s mantle, walked ahead of the traveller with the rapid pace of a mountain-dweller with which even a walking horse has difficulty in keeping up.

‘In ten minutes the two of them had reached the sort of crossroads that the young shepherd had mentioned. Here, with a majestic gesture like that of an emperor, Luigi pointed to the one of the three roads that the traveller should follow.