The entire Villefort household erupted into chaos when the Count of Monte Cristo arrived. He'd co to return a courtesy visit to the prosecutor, and his na alone was enough to send everyone into a frenzy.
Mada de Villefort sat alone in her drawing room when the butler announced him. She imdiately sent for her son Edward, wanting the boy to thank the Count again for saving his life. Edward hurried in, not out of gratitude or obedience, but pure curiosity. He'd heard everyone talking about this mysterious man for two whole days, and he was dying to see what all the fuss was about. Plus, he enjoyed making outrageous comnts that made his mother say, "Oh, that terrible child! But I can't be too harsh with him, he's just so clever."
After exchanging pleasantries, the Count asked about Monsieur de Villefort.
"My husband is dining with the chancellor tonight," the young woman replied. "He just left, and I'm sure he'll be devastated to have missed you."
Two other visitors who'd been present when the Count arrived stared at him with undisguised fascination before finally leaving, staying just long enough to satisfy both politeness and curiosity.
"Edward, what is your sister Valentine doing?" Mada de Villefort asked her son. "Tell soone to bring her here so I can introduce her to the Count."
"You have a daughter, mada?" the Count inquired. "Very young, I presu?"
"My husband's daughter from his first marriage," the young wife explained. "She's a lovely, well-developed girl."
"But she's depressing," Edward interrupted, plucking feathers from a magnificent parrot screaming on its gilded perch. He wanted to make a plu for his hat.
"Edward, be quiet!" Mada de Villefort snapped. Then she continued, "This little troublemaker is actually right, though he's just repeating what he's heard say a hundred tis. Despite everything we do to cheer her up, Valentine has a lancholy personality and barely speaks, which really diminishes her beauty. But what's keeping her? Edward, go check."
"Because they're looking where she isn't," the boy said matter-of-factly.
"And where are they looking?"
"With Grandpa Noirtier."
"You don't think she's there?"
"No, no, no, no, no," Edward sang out, turning his words into a lody.
"Then where is she? If you know, why won't you tell ?"
"She's under the big chestnut tree," the spoiled brat announced. Despite his mother's orders, he began feeding live flies to the parrot, which seed to love them.
Mada de Villefort reached for the bell to send a maid to fetch Valentine, but the young woman appeared in the doorway at that exact mont. She looked dejected, and anyone paying close attention would have noticed the traces of recent tears in her eyes.
Valentine was a tall, graceful nineteen-year-old with bright chestnut hair, deep blue eyes, and that serene air of quiet distinction that had characterized her mother. Her slender white fingers, her delicate neck, and her cheeks that flushed with shifting colors reminded one of elegant English ladies who moved with the grace of swans.
She entered the room and, seeing the stranger beside her stepmother, the man everyone had been talking about, greeted him without any awkward shyness or even lowering her gaze. Her natural elegance doubled the Count's attention. He stood to return her greeting.
"My stepdaughter, Mademoiselle de Villefort," Mada de Villefort said, gesturing toward Valentine from her sofa.
"And Monsieur de Monte Cristo, King of China, Emperor of Southeast Asia," Edward added, glancing slyly at his sister.
Mada de Villefort actually went pale and nearly lost her temper with this household pest nad Edward. But the Count smiled and looked at the boy with what seed like approval, which made the maternal heart swell with joy again.
"But mada," the Count said, continuing the conversation while looking between Mada de Villefort and Valentine, "haven't I had the honor of eting you both before? I couldn't help thinking so just now. The idea ca to , and when mademoiselle entered, seeing her was like an additional ray of light illuminating a confused mory. Please excuse the observation."
"I don't think that's likely, sir. Valentine isn't fond of social gatherings, and we rarely go out," the young lady replied.
"Then it wasn't at a party that I t you, mada, or this charming, mischievous boy. Besides, I barely know Parisian society, as I think I ntioned, I've only been in Paris a few days. No... but perhaps you'll allow to rember... wait!"
The Count placed his hand on his forehead as if gathering his thoughts. "No... it was sowhere else... away from here... I'm not sure... but this mory seems connected to a beautiful sky and so religious festival. Mademoiselle was holding flowers, this interesting boy was chasing a beautiful peacock in a garden, and you, mada, were sitting under a vine-covered arbor. Please help , mada. Don't these details ring any bells?"
"No, they don't," Mada de Villefort replied. "And yet it seems to , sir, that if I'd t you anywhere, I would certainly rember you."
"Perhaps the Count saw us in Italy," Valentine suggested timidly.
"Yes, in Italy! It was probably in Italy," Monte Cristo agreed. "So you've traveled in Italy, mademoiselle?"
"Yes. Mada and I were there two years ago. The doctors recomnded the Naples climate for my lungs. We traveled through Bologna, Perugia, and Ro."
"Ah yes, of course, mademoiselle!" Monte Cristo exclaid, as if this simple explanation had unlocked everything. "It was in Perugia, during the religious festival, in the garden of the Hotel des Postes. That's where we t by chance, you, Mada de Villefort, and your son. I now rember having the honor of eting you."
"I rember Perugia perfectly, sir, and the Hotel des Postes, and the festival you ntion," Mada de Villefort said, "but I'm embarrassed by my terrible mory, I really can't recall ever seeing you before."
"How strange. I don't rember eting you either," Valentine added, raising her beautiful eyes to the Count.
"But I rember it perfectly!" Edward piped up.
"Let refresh your mory, mada," the Count continued. "It had been a scorching hot day. You were waiting for horses that were delayed because of the festival. Mademoiselle was walking in the garden shade, and your son disappeared chasing a peacock."
"And I caught it, mama, don't you rember?" Edward interrupted. "I pulled out three beautiful tail feathers!"
"You, mada, stayed under the arbor. Don't you rember sitting on a stone bench? While Mademoiselle de Villefort and your young son were away, you had a long conversation with soone."
"Yes, actually, yes," the young lady answered, her face flushing red. "I do rember talking with a person wrapped in a long woolen cloak. I think he was a doctor."
"Exactly, mada. That man was . I'd been staying at that hotel for two weeks, during which ti I cured my valet of a fever and my landlord of jaundice. So I'd actually earned quite a reputation as a skilled physician. We talked for a long ti, mada, about various subjects, about the painters Perugino and Raphael, about customs and traditions, about the famous poison called aqua Tofana, which certain people in Perugia supposedly knew how to make."
"Yes, that's true," Mada de Villefort replied, sowhat nervously. "I rember now."
"I don't recall all the topics we discussed, mada," the Count continued with perfect calm, "but I clearly rember that, making the sa mistake others had made about , you consulted about Mademoiselle de Villefort's health."
"Yes, you were actually a doctor, sir, since you'd cured the sick," Mada de Villefort said.
"The playwright Molière would tell you, mada, that it was precisely because I wasn't a real doctor that I cured my patients. As for , I'll simply say that I've studied chemistry and natural sciences quite deeply, though only as a hobbyist, you understand." Just then, the clock struck six. "It's six o'clock," Mada de Villefort said, clearly agitated. "Valentine, won't you go check if your grandfather is ready for his dinner?"
Valentine rose, nodded to the Count, and left the room without speaking.
"Oh mada," the Count said after Valentine had gone, "did you send Mademoiselle de Villefort away because of ?"
"Not at all," the young lady replied quickly. "But this is the hour when we usually give Monsieur Noirtier the unwelco al that sustains his pitiful existence. You're aware, sir, of my father-in-law's terrible condition?"
"Yes, mada. Monsieur de Villefort ntioned it to , paralysis, I believe."
"Sadly, yes. The poor old man is completely helpless. Only his mind remains active in that human shell, and even that's faint and flickering, like a dying lamp. But excuse , sir, for discussing our family troubles. I interrupted you when you were telling you were a skilled chemist."
"No, mada, I didn't say that," the Count replied with a smile. "Quite the opposite. I've studied chemistry because, having decided to live in Eastern countries, I wanted to follow King Mithridates' example."
"Mithridates the Pontian King," the young pest said, tearing beautiful portraits from a splendid album, "the guy who drank a little poison with his breakfast every morning."
"Edward, you naughty boy!" Mada de Villefort exclaid, snatching the damaged book from the brat's hands. "You're absolutely unbearable! You're disrupting our conversation. Go join your sister Valentine in dear Grandpa Noirtier's room."
"The album," Edward said sulkily.
"What do you an, the album?"
"I want the album."
"How dare you tear up the pictures?"
"It's fun."
"Go now!"
"I won't go unless you give the album," the boy declared, stubbornly planting himself in an armchair, his usual tactic of never giving in.
"Fine, take it, but please stop bothering us," Mada de Villefort said, handing Edward the album. The child headed toward the door with his mother leading him.
The Count watched her carefully.
Let's see if she closes the door behind him, he thought.
Mada de Villefort carefully closed the door after her son, the Count appearing not to notice. Then, after casting a careful look around the room, the young woman returned to her chair and sat down.
"Allow to observe, mada," the Count said in that kind tone he could adopt so well, "you're really very strict with that clever little child."
"Oh, sotis strictness is absolutely necessary," Mada de Villefort replied with all a mother's firm conviction.
"Master Edward was actually quoting the ancient writer Cornelius Nepos when he ntioned King Mithridates," the Count continued, "and you interrupted him during a quotation that proves his tutor hasn't neglected him at all. Your son is remarkably advanced for his age."
Reviews
All reviews (0)