World Literature Classics Library: The Count of Monte Cristo

Chapter 192 Pere Lachaise Cemetery (1)
It was true that Monsieur de Pouvier had just encountered the funeral procession that was taking Valentine to her final resting place.

The sky was overcast, with low clouds.Although the wind is still blowing, it is autumn after all. The leaves are withered and yellow, and the branches are gradually thinning and bald. The autumn wind blows by, and the yellow leaves blowing down are fluttering on the busy forest-lined avenue.

M. de Villefort is worthy of being an orthodox Parisian. In his opinion, after the death of the Balenciaga family, only the Pere Lachaise Cemetery is worthy of placing the remains. He believes that other cemeteries are just country cemeteries. People who were pure and pure during their lifetime can only find their final destination in the Pere Lachaise Cemetery after death, and can be buried in peace.Readers already know that he bought a permanent cemetery there and built a burial chamber. Unexpectedly, several relatives of his ex-wife were buried here one by one.Inscribed on the pediment of the tomb was the words "Tomb of the family of Saint-Méran and Villefort," which was the last wish of poor René, Valentine's birth mother.

The long funeral procession had left Saint-Honoré and was walking slowly towards the Pere Lachaise cemetery.They walked across Paris, into Temple, and along the boulevards of the suburbs to the Cemetery Lachaise.At the front were 20 funeral carriages, followed by 50 private carriages, followed by more than 500 mourners on foot.The sudden death of Valentina was like a bolt from the blue to almost all young people. Although the world was shallow and fashion was so lonely, such a beautiful, chaste and lovely girl died in this flowery age. Young people all feel tender hearted.

Just after leaving Paris, the mourners saw a four-wheeled carriage galloping forward. The legs of the shaft horse were as strong and powerful as steel springs, and suddenly straightened up. The carriage stopped immediately. It turned out that M. Monte Cristo had rushed over .The count jumped out of his open hansom, and walked among the mourners on foot behind the hearse.Chateau-Renoir recognized the count at a glance, and immediately jumped out of his carriage and went to look for the count. Beauchamp also jumped out of the chartered chaise in which he was sitting.The count looked intently among the people, obviously looking for someone.At last he asked anxiously: "Where is Morrel? Ladies and gentlemen, do any of you know where he is?"

"We asked them all when we were at M. de Villefort's house," said Chateau-Renoir, "because none of us saw him."

The count said nothing, but looked about him.The funeral procession finally arrived at the cemetery.Monte Cristo glanced alertly at the yew and pine forest, and was instantly relieved that a figure loomed behind the dark hedges, and Monte Cristo must have recognized at a glance the one he was looking for.

Everyone must know how the funeral is held in this solemn and solemn urban cemetery.Crowds in black mourning clothes stood in twos and threes on the white tomb passage. There was silence between heaven and earth. The tomb was surrounded by hedges. There was an occasional sound of branches snapping in the green bushes.There were flowers on the ladies' hats, and some of them were dejected, with their hands clasped together, weeping and lamenting involuntarily from time to time.In Heloise and Abelard, the French theologian and scholastic philosopher (1079-1142), was corrupted because of his love and private marriage with his student Heloise, and Heloise was forced to enter a monastery hospital.There are several passages in the shape of plum blossoms behind his tomb. At this time, the figure that Monte Cristo had just seen clearly walked through the passages, stood in front of the hearse shaft horse, and followed the burial workers to the place selected as the tomb. .

Everyone had their eyes fixed on one object, and Monte Cristo fixed his eyes on this figure, which was hardly noticed by those around him.Twice the count stepped out of the procession to see if the man was reaching for a weapon concealed under his coat.When the funeral procession stopped just now, it could already be seen that the figure was Morrel.He wore a black frock coat, buttoned up to his neck, with a livid face, sunken cheeks, and a crumpled hat in convulsive hands.He climbed to the highest mound in the cemetery, leaned against a tree, and stared intently at the funeral that was about to end here.The funeral was very ordinary, and several gentlemen, usually the ones who can mourn the most, gave eulogies one after another. Some expressed their regret for the girl's untimely death, some talked about how sad they were as a father, and some even had an idea, saying What M. de Villefort punished according to the law, and the girl pleaded with her father more than once for the sinner.All in all, these speakers carved out sentences, exhausted metaphors and long sentences, and spoke lingeringly, according to the French poet Malerbes (1555-1628), who wrote poems after the death of his friend Duperier's daughter. Condolences.The poems and essays written for Duperrier made a big fuss.Monte Cristo did not listen to the eulogy, did not look at the funeral scene, his eyes were fixed only on Morrel.The young officer looked quiet, with no expression on his face. Only those who knew his heart would find his appearance terrifying.

"Ah," said Beauchamp suddenly to Debray, "here is Morrel! Where is he standing?"

They both called Chateau-Lenault to see him. "His face is really pale." Chateau-Leno said with a shudder.

"He's caught a cold," said Debray.

"No," Chateau-Renoir said slowly, "in my opinion, he is too excited. Maximilian is an emotional man."

"Ah!" said Debray, "he doesn't know Mademoiselle de Villefort very well! You said it yourself."

"Exactly, but I remember that he danced three times with Mademoiselle de Villefort at the ball given by Madame de Mercerf. You know, count, that you were quite the showman at that ball."

"No, I don't know," replied Monte Cristo, but he did not know what he was talking about, nor whom he was talking to, and his attention was fixed on Morrel.At this moment Morrel's cheeks twitched, as if he were holding his breath or holding his breath. "The eulogy is over, good-bye, gentlemen," said the count hastily.After he finished speaking, he bowed and bid farewell, and he disappeared in an instant, and no one knew where he went.

By this time the funeral was over, and the mourners were on their way back to Paris.Chateau-Renaud looked around for Morrel alone, but while he was watching the count go away, Morrel had moved away from where he stood, and Chateau-Renaud could not see him. to Morrel, and he followed Debray and Beauchamp.

Monte Cristo slipped into a bush, hid himself behind a large tomb, and kept his eyes on every little movement of Morrel.At this time, all the people watching around the tomb had dispersed, and then the tomb workers also left. Morrel walked slowly towards the tomb.Morrel, in a trance, glanced slowly about him, but while he was looking straight ahead, Monte Cristo advanced a dozen paces, without being noticed by Morrel.Then the young man knelt down.Stretching out his neck, staring intently with wide-eyed eyes, and bending his legs slightly, as if ready to rush at the slightest movement, the Count continued on towards Morrel.Morrel, with his head bowed so that his forehead touched the stone, gripped the iron bars with both hands, and said softly: "Oh! Valentine!"

The count's heart was broken when he heard Morrel's laments, and he took another step forward, clapped Morrel on the shoulder, and said, "It is you, my dear friend, who I am looking for. and you."

Monte Cristo had expected Morrel to weep, or to accuse him angrily.He was so, so wrong, and Morrel turned around with an outwardly very calm look. "You see," said he, "I am praying!"

Monte Cristo looked the young man from head to toe carefully, and did not seem to be relieved until he had seen it. "Shall I take you back to Paris?" he said.

"No, thank you."

"Do you want me to help you?"

"Just let me pray."

The count walked away without any dissuasion, but he just hid in another place, still watching Morrel's every move intently.At last Morrel stood up, brushed the dust off his knees on the flagstones, and set off on his way back to Paris without looking back.He walked slowly down the Rue La Roquette.The count ordered his carriage, which was parked at the Pere Lachaise cemetery, to return first, and he himself followed Morrel at a distance of about a hundred paces.Maximilian crossed the canal and turned back from the Boulevard to the Rue de Melai.When Morrel returned home, the door had been closed for five minutes, then opened again, and Monte Cristo came rushing.Julie stood at the gate of the small garden and watched Perneron intently, who was already a serious gardener and was pressing the Bengal roses.

"Ah! Monsieur the Count of Monte Cristo!" Julie exclaimed cheerfully. Every time Monte Cristo came to see them in the Rue de Merais, the whole family was filled with joy.

"Maximilian has just come home, has he not, Madame?" asked the count.

"I think I saw him go by, yes," said the young woman, "but wait a moment, and call Emmanuel first."

"Excuse me, Madame, I must go upstairs to Maximilian at once," said Monte Cristo, "I have something very important to say to him."

"Please," said Julie, with a sweet smile on her face as she watched the count go up the stairs, and then disappeared.

In a short while, Monte Cristo went up two flights of stairs from the ground floor to the third floor where Maximilian lived.On the landing of the stairs, Monte Cristo listened again, but heard nothing.Like most exclusive dwellings, the landing is separated only by a glass-framed door.But the key was not hung on the door, and Maximilian locked the door inside, and a red silk curtain was hidden behind the glass, so that the inside could not be seen from the door.The Count blushed with anxiety, and it was unusual for a man of his stature to show such excitement.

"What?" he whispered, and then thought for a moment. "Pull the bell?" he said to himself again. "Oh! No, for a person in Maximilian's current state, as long as the bell rings, it means that someone is looking for it, and it often prompts him to make up his mind immediately. , After the bell rings, other sounds will start immediately."

Monte Cristo was trembling from head to toe with anxiety, but he was a man who always made up his mind with such swiftness that he smashed a pane of glass in the door with his elbow, raised the silk curtain, and saw Morrel was sitting in front of the writing desk with a quill in his hand. He jumped up from his chair when he heard the glass shatter with a crash.

"Nothing," said the Count; "I am very sorry, my dear friend! I slipped and fell, and when I fell I struck my elbow against the glass of your door. Now that the glass is broken, I may as well open the door myself, You don't have to come here, you don't have to." Then the count stretched his arm over the shattered pane, and opened the door.

Morrel arose, with an expression of displeasure evident in his face, and went towards Monte Cristo, not so much to meet him as to hinder him.

"Why, it is your servant's fault," said Monte Cristo, rubbing his elbow, "that your floor is so smooth that it looks like a mirror."

"Are you hurt, sir?" asked Morrel coldly.

"I don't know. But what are you doing? Writing?"

"I?"

"You have ink all over your fingers."

"Yes," replied Morrel, "I am writing, and although I am a soldier, I sometimes write."

Monte Cristo took a few steps inward, and Maximilian had to let him pass, but followed him.

"Are you writing?" said Monte Cristo, not taking his eyes off Morrel.

"I have the honor to tell you, yes," said Morrel,

The count glanced around. "Your pistol is beside the writing-case!" he said to Morrel, pointing to the weapon lying on the desk.

"I'm going on a trip," Maximilian replied.

"My friend!" cried Monte Cristo with infinite affection.

"gentlemen!"

"My friend, my dear Maximilian, do not take any drastic decisions, I sincerely advise you."

"What radical decision have I made?" said Morrel, shrugging his shoulders. "Excuse me, how can traveling be called a radical decision?"

"Maximilian," said Monte Cristo, "let us all put down our masks. You need not deceive me by pretending to be calm, and I need not deceive you by such idle concerns. It's pretty obvious, too, isn't it? The reason I did it, the reason I broke the glass and broke into my friend's room, I said, you know it in your heart, I did it because I was really disturbed, or rather I say, because I am sure something terrible is going to happen. Morrel, you want to kill yourself!"

"Well!" said Morrel, shuddering, "how can you have such thoughts, Monsieur Count?"

"I said you wanted to kill yourself!" continued the count, in the same tone as before. "Here is the proof." He went to the desk.Morrel had just pressed a blank sheet of paper on top of a letter which had just begun; Monte Cristo had turned the sheet over, and picked up the letter in his hands.Morrel hurried over to snatch the letter.But Monte Cristo, anticipating this, seized Maximilian's wrist like a steel chain on a spring about to spring, and squeezed it tightly. "See for yourself, this is not a suicide attempt! Morrel," said the count, "it is written in black on white paper!"

"So what?" cried Morrel, suddenly losing his calm appearance and becoming very impatient. "So what? Even if it is so, even if I really decide to put the muzzle of this pistol Aim at myself, who can stop me? Who has the courage to stop me? I say, all my hopes are gone, my heart is broken, my life is gone, and I look around only Seeing sorrow and hatred, the world is reduced to ashes, and I feel as if my heart is pierced whenever someone speaks. I say, it would be kind to me to let me die, because if you don't let me die, I will Lose my mind and I'll go mad. Ah, tell me, sir, when I say that, and when others see me say it, I'm sad and tearful, and who will say it to me? Say, 'You are wrong'? Who will prevent me from getting out of this miserable torment? Speak, sir, speak, do you have the courage?"

"Yes, Morrel," said Monte Cristo, with a calmness which contrasted curiously with the young man's excitement, "yes, I have the courage."

"You!" cried Morrel, with rage and resentment gradually revealed in his heart, "you have only deceived me with your vain hopes. I could have done some feat, I could have taken some extreme measures, Bring her back to life, or at least see her die in my arms, while you stop me, coax me, comfort me with promises you can't keep. You pretend to possess all human wisdom and material power, You play, or pretend to be, the part of God, and yet you can't even bring out the antidote for a girl who is poisoned! Ah! After all, sir, you pity me if you don't disgust me! "

"Morrel..."

"Yes, you just said to put down the mask, well, you can be satisfied, my mask has been put down. Yes, you chased me to the cemetery, I still let you talk to you, because I have a kind heart. Just now You broke in, and I let you go all the way here... But you are too much, I have already treated my room as my tomb, hiding alone, and you still want to break in with me I can't go through it. I thought you had tortured me enough, but you have come to torture me again. The Count of Monte Cristo, my so-called benefactor, the Count of Monte Cristo, the savior of the world, you should be satisfied, you will see soon Your friends are dying before your eyes!"

Morrel laughed wildly, and once again rushed to get the pistol on the table.Monte Cristo's face was pale like a ghost, but his eyes were shining, he stretched out his hand to hold the gun down, and said to the man who lost his mind: "I still say the same thing, you must not take it lightly!"

(End of this chapter)