World Literature Classics Library: The Count of Monte Cristo

Chapter 148 Ionina Newsletter (3)
"Very well, then, I will invite Franz and Chateau-Renoir."

"You can have Franz and Chateau-Renaud, that would be the best."

"However, if I really want to duel, you can teach me swordsmanship and shooting, right?"

"No, that's also impossible."

"You're so different, forget it! Then you absolutely don't want to get involved?"

"Absolutely do not intervene."

"Well, then, we need not talk further. Good-bye, Count."

"Goodbye, Viscount."

Mosef took his hat and went out.He got into his buggy at the gate, suppressed his anger as much as possible, and finally came to Beauchamp's house.But Beauchamp was reporting to him, and Albert got into the car to go to the newspaper again.Beauchamp was in a dark, dusty office, as dirty and messy as any newspaper office has been since the first day it was built.The servant informed Beauchamp of Albert Mosef's visit, and Beauchamp asked twice, but he was still dubious, and shouted: "Come in!" Albert walked into the office, and Beauchamp shouted in surprise, only He saw his friend walking past the piles of white paper.Large and small newspapers were scattered all over the floor—the floor here was not a parquet floor, but dark red square bricks. Albert didn't know where to put his feet, so he had to kick and trample on the newspapers.

"Here, here, my dear Albert," said Beauchamp, holding out his hand to Albert. "Which god invited you here? Have you lost your way, or have you come here on purpose to ask me to treat you to dinner? What do you want?" Sit on a chair, ah, there, there is a chair right next to the geranium, and fortunately there is this pot of geranium here, which reminds me that not only paper is counted by sheets, but other things are also counted by sheets.”

"Beauchamp," said Albert, "it is your paper that I have come to talk to you about."

"You, Mosef? For what?"

"I'm asking you to correct a message."

"You? Correct the news? What news, Albert? Why don't you sit down and talk!"

"Thank you," said Albert, nodding reluctantly out of courtesy.

"Tell me what's going on first."

"I request that a historical fact be corrected because this incident discredits a person in my family."

"Ah, that's right!" Beauchamp said in surprise, "Which historical fact? No way!"

"It's the communication from Ioannina."

"Communication from Ionina?"

"Yes, from Ioannina. You really don't seem to know why I'm here?"

"On my honor... Battistan, bring yesterday's paper!" Beauchamp shouted.

"No need, I brought you my share."

Beauchamp began to read mutteringly: "A message from Ionina..."

"You also know that the matter is very serious," Albert said after Beauchamp had finished reading.

"So, that officer is your relative?" Beauchamp asked.

"Yes," said Albert, flushing.

"Well, what do you think I should do to satisfy you?" Beauchamp said very kindly.

"My idea is, my dear Beauchamp, you take this message back."

Beauchamp looked at Albert very seriously, and his seriousness just showed how much he cared about Albert. "Well," he said, "we have to talk about this kind of thing, because retracting a message is always a serious matter. You sit down first, and I'll go through these three or four lines again."

Albert sat down, and Beauchamp read again the lines reproached by his friend, and more carefully than the first time.

"Well, see for yourself," said Albert, in a tone that was not only firm, but almost merciless, "that someone in your paper has spoken ill of a member of my family, and I demand that the information be retracted."

"You...you request..."

"Yes, I ask!"

"Allow me to remind you that you are not a councilor, my dear Viscount."

"I have no intention of being a member of parliament," Albert stood up and retorted, "I just ask you to retract a message that was published yesterday, and you must retract it. You are also my friend," Albert saw Beauchamp's arrogance Di raised his head, so he pursed his lips and continued, "You can also be considered my friend. As a friend, you know more or less what I am. I hope you can understand that I will never give up halfway on this kind of issue."

"If I were your friend, Mosef, what you said just now would eventually make me forget that we were friends... But, you see, let's not get angry, at least not... You are disturbed , very angry, very annoyed... Uh, who is this Fernand relative of yours?"

"He is my father, and no one else," said Albert, "Monsieur Fernand Mondego, the Count of Mecerf, an old soldier who fought in the war Digging the mud out of the ditch will blacken all the noble wounds on his body."

"It's your father?" said Beauchamp. "That's another matter. I can understand your outrage, my dear Albert... Let us read it again..." And he repeated the message word for word. Read it carefully. "But," Beauchamp asked, "from where do you know that Fernand in the newspaper is your father?"

"It's not in the papers, I know that, but other people will see it, and I ask that the news be corrected."

As soon as Albert said "I ask", Beauchamp raised his eyes and looked at Mosef, then immediately lowered them, and then thought for a moment.

"You'll correct the message, won't you, Beauchamp?" Mosef repeated, his anger growing undiminished despite his pressure.

"Yes." Beauchamp said.

"Excellent!" said Albert.

"But I have to wait until I find out that this news is indeed wrong."

"what?"

"Yes, it is necessary to clarify this matter, and I will certainly be able to clarify it."

"But what do you think should be clarified in this matter, monsieur?" said Albert suddenly, "if you do not think this is my father, please declare it at once; What is the basis for the opinion?"

Beauchamp looked at Albert and smiled slightly.This smile revealed the subtle changes in his mentality, and only he could have such a smile. "Sir," he went on, "because you are a gentleman, and if you say that you have come only to reason with me, you should have said it long ago, why bother to talk about friendship and other nonsense with me, I am patient. Been listening for half an hour. Shouldn't we be dueling, huh?"

"Yes, if you don't take back this vile slander!"

"Be safe! Please don't threaten, Mr. Fernand Mondego, Viscount Meusef. I will not allow my enemies to threaten me, and I will not allow my friends to threaten me. The news about Colonel Fernand, I swear on my reputation, I didn't interfere at all, do you have to ask me to come out and correct it?"

"Yes, I ask you to correct me!" said Albert, who was beginning to lose his reason.

"Otherwise, do we have to fight a duel?" Beauchamp still asked calmly.

"Yes!" said Albert, raising his voice.

"Well," said Beauchamp, "I will answer you, my dear Monsieur, that I did not make up this message, nor did I know of it. But, because of your obsession, you yourself have caused me to be concerned about this message." Attention, now I attach great importance to this. At present, this news remains as it is, and whether to correct or confirm it in the future should be decided by authoritative people.”

"Monsieur," said Albert, rising, "I shall have the honor of having my witnesses come to you, and you may confer with them the place of the duel and the weapons to be used."

"Very well, my dear sir."

"Then it's best this evening, tomorrow at the latest, we should confront each other."

"No, no, when I go to a duel, it depends on the need. I think—I have a right to decide the time, because I am the party who accepts the challenge, so I don't think it is time for a hand-to-hand confrontation. I I know you are good with the sword, and so am I. I know that you can hit the bull's-eye three times out of six shots, and I am as good at it as you. I know that a duel between us must be a battle of two tigers, Because you're brave and I...so am I. So I don't want to take the risk of killing you, or being killed by you, for no reason. Now it's my turn to ask you a question that you have to answer. About This news, I have already told you, I will tell you again, and I swear to you on my honor, that I knew nothing, and I will tell you that, except for a Japheth like you. "The character is the third son of Noah, the ancestor of mankind after the flood mentioned in the Bible. No one can possibly guess that the Fernand mentioned in the newsletter is the Earl of Mercerf. Even so, do you insist on Ask me to take this message back. And if I don't take it back, are you willing to kill me and hurry?"

"My request remains the same."

"Well, my dear sir, I agree to fight you to the death, but I ask for three weeks. Come back to me after three weeks and I will either say to you: 'Yes, the information is wrong, I withdraw it. ’ or say to you: ‘Yes, the news is true.’ Then I will draw the sword from the scabbard, or the pistol from the box, as you choose.”

"Three weeks!" cried Albert. "Three weeks are three shameful centuries to me!"

"If you were still my friend, I would say to you: 'Be patient, my friend.' If you were willing to be my enemy, I would say to you: 'What does it matter to me, sir?' "

"Very well, just three weeks," said Moserf, "but please remember that after three weeks, you must not procrastinate, nor make excuses..."

"Monsieur Albert Mocerf," said Beauchamp, also standing up, "I can only throw you out of the window after three weeks, that is, after 24 days (the custom of the French at that time was not more than a week. Eight days count.), you have no right to attack me during this period. Today is August 8th, and the time we set should be September 29st. In the meantime, please listen to me, and I will give you a decent Advice, let us not bark at each other like two dogs on separate leashes."

After saying these few words, Beauchamp bowed to Albert with a stern face, turned his head and walked into his typesetting workshop, Albert took a pile of newspapers to vent his anger, and swung his cane vigorously one after another, beating the newspapers all over the room Flying around, and then walked away, but turned his head two or three times to look at the typesetting workshop.Suppressing his anger, he smashed up the innocent newspapers before getting into the carriage and whipping his shaft horse.As he passed the boulevard, Albert saw Morrel passing by a Chinese bathhouse, with his head held high, his eyes wide open, his arms swinging easily back and forth, coming from the Porte Saint-Martin, towards the Head towards the Place de la Madeleine. "Ah!" said Albert with a sigh, "there are some lucky ones."

Unexpectedly, Albert guessed right this time.

(End of this chapter)