World Literature Classics Library: The Count of Monte Cristo

Chapter 160 Traveling (2)
"Really," said Monte Cristo, "the carriages at your post station only travel 16 miles an hour, and there are such ridiculous regulations that overtaking must ask the permission of the passengers in the front car, and the people in the front car If he is sick, or someone who likes to argue, he can block all the passengers behind him, no matter they are vigorous or strong, without exception, it is really difficult to walk this way. I've got my own coachman on my way, and I've got my own horse, and I'm out of the way, aren't I, Ali?"

The count stuck his head out of the car window and whistled lightly. The horses immediately became even more powerful. They were not running, but flying. The carriage was speeding like lightning on the wide road, and the people on the road turned their heads one by one. Looking at it, I saw the carriage passing by like a shining meteor.Ali smiled and whistled again and again, his open mouth showed a pair of white teeth, his strong hands held the reins tightly and rode the horse galloping, the shaft horse sprayed white foam, and its beautiful mane fluttered in the wind .Ali, the son of the desert, is at his happiest moment at this moment. His face is dark, his eyes are shining, and he wears a white Arabian cloak on his shoulders. I saw him driving at a high speed, raising billowing dust and fog, like a spirit of the hot desert wind. , Cyclonus God.

"Yes," Moserf said, "speed brings pleasure, and I've never experienced it before." The last cloud on his forehead seemed to be swept away by the rushing air, and there was no trace left. "But, my fellow, where did you find such a horse?" Albert continued, "was it bred for purpose?"

"Exactly," said the count, "six years ago in Hungary I found a stallion famous for its swiftness, and I bought it at a price I don't remember, for Beticio paid for it." This horse gave birth to 32 foals back then, and tonight we all look at the descendants of this stallion. These horses look exactly the same, all black, except for a small white star on the forehead. There is no hair on the whole body, because not only the stallions were well selected, but also the mares were carefully selected like the governor of the Ottoman Empire choosing his concubine."

"That's wonderful! But can you tell me, count, what you are keeping these horses for?"

"Don't you see, it's for my travels."

"But you don't always travel on the road!"

"As soon as I don't need them, Beticio will sell them all, and he says he'll make thirty or forty thousand francs from that alone."

"No king in Europe would be so rich to buy your horses."

"Then Beticio can sell the horses to any minister in the East. Of course, if he buys them all, the minister will have to empty out his coffers, but he can extort money from the common people to replenish his coffers."

"Count, I suddenly have an idea, should I tell you?"

"please."

"I think, in terms of personal wealth, Mr. Beticio is second only to you in Europe's richest man."

"Oh! You are mistaken, Viscount. If you had opened Beticio's pockets, I am sure you would not have found ten sous."

"Why?" asked Albert, "is Monsieur Beticio so strange? Ah, my dear count, I tell you, don't be too clever, or I won't believe what you say. .”

"I never say those magical things, Albert. What I say has numbers and reason, and I don't say anything else. So you may wish to listen to this dilemma. The butler will steal , but may I ask, why did he steal it?"

"My God! It's the nature of a butler, anyway, I think so." Albert said, "Butlers steal for the sake of stealing."

"Oh, no! You are mistaken. The butler stole because he had a wife, children, and ambitions for himself and his family. The main reason he stole was because he could not He is sure whether he can stay in the master's house forever, so he has to leave a way for himself. Well, as for Mr. Beticio, he has no relatives in this world, and he touches my purse without needing to report to me , and he is sure that he will never be fired by me."

"why?"

"Because I couldn't find a better steward than him."

"You've come back to your words again. It's just a possibility."

"Oh! No, what I said is all well-founded. I think a person can be my servant if I can kill him."

"Then, can you kill Beticio?" asked Albert.

"Yes." The count replied lightly.

Some words, like closing an iron door, can bring a conversation to an abrupt end, and the earl's "yes" is such a sentence.The rest of the journey was still the same. The 32 horses traveled 8 sections, a total of 8 miles in 400 hours. In the middle of the night, the carriage arrived at the gate of a beautiful garden villa. Notified by the horseman at the station, when the carriage drove, he had already opened the iron gate and stood by himself to wait.

At 2:[-] in the morning, the servant led Moserf into his suite. He saw that the bath water had been prepared, and the evening meal had been prepared. The servant who followed all the way sat in the back seat of the traveling carriage. Come here now dedicated to serving Albert.Along the way, Baptistan sat in the front seat of the car, and he followed to wait on the count.Albert had his bath, supper, and went to bed.The waves are rough and sad, like a lullaby echoing in Albert's ears all night long. When he got up the next morning, Albert went straight to the French windows, opened the windows, and walked to the small terrace outside the window. The sea, I can only see the misty waves, behind it is a beautiful garden, and behind the garden is a small forest.

In a fairly wide harbour, a two-masted boat was gently rippling with the waves. The boat had a long and narrow hull, a tall sail, and a flag bearing the arms of Monte Cristo hoisted on the masthead.The coat of arms is a golden mountain standing on the blue waves, and the top of the coat of arms is a straight red cross, which probably means the name "Monte Cristo". There is a mountain more precious than gold, and it is because Jesus shed the holy blood that the filthy cross is an icon.The meaning of this coat of arms is also some kind of remembrance of Monte Cristo himself, silently reminiscing about the boundless nights in the mysterious years of the past, and not forgetting the experience of suffering and life-saving.Around the brig was moored several coastal three-masted schooners, fishing boats from the neighboring villages, each of which surrounded their queen respectfully like obedient servants.

Here, as in any place where Monte Cristo sojourns, even if only for two days, life is so well arranged that one feels at home as soon as one enters the house.Albert saw in the antechamber of his flat two shotguns and a whole hunting set, and downstairs there was a particularly tall room in which were kept all kinds of ingenious English fishing tackle.The Englishmen are patient and easygoing, and they are good at fishing, but they have not yet taught the conventional French to fish with these delicate fishing tackle.He spent a whole day wandering east and west, and even in these leisurely recreations, Monte Cristo shot and killed more than 10 wild pheasants in the garden, and caught more than 10 trout when he went fishing in the stream. In the evening, dine in the gazebo facing the sea, and have tea in the library after dinner.

On the evening of the third day, Albert was exhausted from playing, and fell asleep on a chair by the window alone, while Monte Cristo only felt a little relieved after playing for a few days, and was discussing the blueprint with the architect, preparing to A flower house is built in this villa.Suddenly there was a sound of horseshoes on the stone road outside, and Albert looked up out of the window. He couldn't help being startled, and saw his personal servant standing in the courtyard.Albert, not wanting to trouble Monte Cristo, did not have the footman attend him.

"Florentin, here!" cried Albert, jumping up from his chair, "is my mother ill?" and he hurried to the door of the room.

Monte Cristo looked at Albert, who saw him hurry up to the footman, who was out of breath, and who took out from his pocket a small package sealed with wax, containing a newspaper and a letter.

"Who wrote this letter?" asked Albert hastily.

"Monsieur Beauchamp," replied Florentin.

"Then Beauchamp sent you here?"

"Yes, sir. He sent me to him, paid me for the journey, and hired me a post-horse. He told me not to stop on the way. I must find sir immediately, so I walked fifteen miles without stopping. Hour's way."

Trembling, Albert opened the letter, and after reading a few lines he cried out, and then, trembling, snatched the paper from his hand.His eyes suddenly became blurred, his legs seemed to be weak, and he almost fell down. He hurriedly leaned on Florentin, and Florentin immediately stretched out his arms to support him.

"Poor young man!" murmured Monte Cristo in a voice full of sympathy, but in a voice so low that only he could hear it clearly, "as the saying goes, the faults made by the fathers will last to the third generation. generations, and even fourth generations.”

At this moment, Albert regained his strength, and then he finished his belief, threw back the hair stuck to his sweaty forehead, and crumpled the letter and newspaper into a ball. "Florentin," said he, "will your horse go back to Paris at once?"

"This stage horse is terrible, short and small, and has a broken leg."

"Oh! my God! how was the state of the house when you left?"

"It was quite calm, but when I returned to the mansion from Mr. Beauchamp, Madam was sending someone to look for me. Madam wanted to know when you would return to the mansion. I said to Madam, it happened that Mr. Beauchamp sent me to look for you. Madam heard She stretched out her hand to stop me, but she thought for a moment and said to me: 'Well, you go, Florentin, and tell him to come back.'"

"Yes, my mother, yes," said Albert, "I will go home; don't worry, bad luck awaits that shameless man! But first I must be on my way."

He returned to the room from which he had come out, where Monte Cristo was still there.In just five minutes, Albert's face had completely changed, and it was sad to be seen by others, for he was no longer what he had been before.When he left this room just now, he was fine, but when he came back, his voice was weak, his face was flushed and purple, the veins on his forehead were bulging, two cold lights burst out from his eyes, and he walked as if he was drunk wobbly. "Count," he said, "I am very grateful for your hospitality. I would have liked to stay longer, but I must now return to Paris."

"Did something happen?"

"It is a great misfortune, please allow me to leave now, this matter is more important than my life, but, count, I beg you not to ask me any more, but lend me a horse to ride!"

"I have as many horses as you like in my stables, Viscount," said Monte Cristo, "but you will wear yourself out by changing horses in this way, so take a cab or a carriage."

"No need, it takes too much time to go by car. You are afraid that I will be tired. In fact, I just need to be tired. I will feel better when I am tired."

Albert took a few steps forward, turned as if struck by a bullet, and fell down in a chair by the door.Monte Cristo did not see that Albert almost fell down for the second time. He was standing at the window and shouted: "Ali, prepare the horse for Monsieur Mocerf, and hurry up, he will go away in a hurry."

Hearing the count's cry, Albert cheered up again, and hurried out of the room, followed by the count.

"Thank you!" Albert said softly as he jumped on the horse, "You also hurry back as quickly as possible, Florentin. Is there any password for me to change horses at each station?"

"There is no password, just change the horse you are riding, and they will give you a new one right away."

Albert was about to ride away, but he stopped short and said: "You may find it strange and inhuman that I should go back in such a hurry. You don't know that a few lines in a newspaper can drive a man to despair. Oh!" he went on, throwing down the newspaper, "you might as well read it, but after I'm gone, I don't want you to see me blush."

The count picked up the newspaper.At this moment Albert clamped his legs, and stabbed the horse in the belly with the spurs that his servant had just put on his boots. The earl rushed forward with a swish, and with infinite sympathy, the count watched the young man leave in a hurry. It was not until the young man was completely out of sight that the count lowered his eyes to read the news in the newspaper:

Three weeks ago, the "Equitable" reported that Ali, the governor of Ioannina, had a French officer under his command. He not only surrendered the castle of Ioannina, but also betrayed his benefactor to the Turks.As stated by a respectable colleague of this newspaper, the French officer was named Fernand at the time, but after the incident, he added the title of nobility and the name of the fief to his Christian name, so he is now named Mosef Monsieur Earl, this man is a member of the House of Lords.

This frightening secret, though tightly concealed by the magnanimous Beauchamp, finally emerged like a ghost in battle.Another newspaper, which had picked up the secret with the cruelty of a man, published on the third day after Albert's departure from Paris for Normandy these few lines which nearly drove the poor young man mad with anxiety.

(End of this chapter)