Ah, my mother, my poor mother!" said Albert, gazing through his tears at his mother's portrait; "if you know this, how much must you suffer!"
"Come," said Beauchamp, taking both his hands, "take courage, my friend."
"But how came that first note to be inserted in your journal? Some unknown enemy--an invisible foe--has done this."
"The more must you fortify yourself, Albert. Let no trace of emotion be visible on your countenance, bear your grief as the cloud bears within it ruin and death--a fatal secret, known only when the storm bursts.
Go, my friend, reserve your strength for the moment when the crash shall come."
"You think, then, all is not over yet?" said Albert, horror-stricken.
"I think nothing, my friend; but all things are possible.
By the way"--
"What?" said Albert, seeing that Beauchamp hesitated.
"Are you going to marry Mademoiselle Danglars?"
"Why do you ask me now?"
"Because the rupture or fulfilment of this engagement is connected with the person of whom we were speaking."
"How?" said Albert, whose brow reddened; "you think M. Danglars"--
"I ask you only how your engagement stands?
Pray put no construction on my words I do not mean they should convey, and give them no undue weight."
"No." said Albert, "the engagement is broken off."
"Well," said Beauchamp. Then, seeing the young man was about to relapse into melancholy, "Let us go out, Albert," said he; "a ride in the wood in the phaeton, or on horseback, will refresh you; we will then return to breakfast, and you shall attend to your affairs, and I to mine."
"Willingly," said Albert; "but let us walk. I think a little exertion would do me good."
The two friends walked out on the fortress.
When arrived at the Madeleine,--"Since we are out," said Beauchamp, "let us call on M. de Monte Cristo; he is admirably adapted to revive one's spirits, because he never interrogates, and in my opinion those who ask no questions are the best comforters."
"Gladly," said Albert; "I love him--let us call."
Chapter 85.
The Journey.
Monte Cristo uttered a joyful exclamation on seeing the young men together.
"Ah, ha!" said he, "I hope all is over, explained and settled."
"Yes," said Beauchamp; "the absurd reports have died away, and should they be renewed, I would be the first to oppose them; so let us speak no more of it."
"Albert will tell you," replied the count "that I gave him the same advice.
Look," added he. "I am finishing the most execrable morning's work."
"What is it?" said Albert; "arranging your papers, apparently."
"My papers, thank God, no,--my papers are all in capital order, because I have none; but M. Cavalcanti's."
"M. Cavalcanti's?" asked Beauchamp.
"Yes; do you not know that this is a young man whom the count is introducing?" said Morcerf.
"Let us not misunderstand each other," replied Monte Cristo; "I introduce no one, and certainly not M. Cavalcanti."
"And who," said Albert with a forced smile, "is to marry Mademoiselle Danglars instead of me, which grieves me cruelly."
"What?
Cavalcanti is going to marry Mademoiselle Danglars?" asked Beauchamp.
"Certainly; do you come from the end of the world?" said Monte Cristo; "you, a journalist, the husband of renown?
It is the talk of all Paris."
"And you, count, have made this match?" asked Beauchamp.
"I?
Silence, purveyor of gossip, do not spread that report. I make a match?
No, you do not know me; I have done all in my power to oppose it."
"Ah, I understand," said Beauchamp, "on our friend Albert's account."
"On my account?" said the young man; "oh, no, indeed, the count will do me the justice to assert that I have, on the contrary, always entreated him to break off my engagement, and happily it is ended.
The count pretends I have not him to thank;--so be it--I will erect an altar Deo ignoto."
"Listen," said Monte Cristo; "I have had little to do with it, for I am at variance both with the father-in-law and the young man; there is only Mademoiselle Eugenie, who appears but little charmed with the thoughts of matrimony, and who, seeing how little I was disposed to persuade her to renounce her dear liberty, retains any affection for me."
"And do you say this wedding is at hand?"
"Oh, yes, in spite of all I could say.
I do not know the young man; he is said to be of good family and rich, but I never trust to vague assertions.
I have warned M. Danglars of it till I am tired, but he is fascinated with his Luccanese.