The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas - 26 May, 2022

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, original edition 1845 in 6 volumes

Le Comte de Monte-Cristo (The Count of Monte Cristo) was published in serial fashion in the Journal des Débats starting in 1844 and was published in book form in 1846. Dumas cunningly devised the ending of each chapter so the readers would wait captivated, in expectation of what would happen next week in the adventures. 

The Count of Monte Cristo – First English edition, 1846

The Count of Monte Cristo was translated into all modern languages and has never been out of print. More than thirty films have appeared based on it. Two may be mentioned, the first starring Richard Chamberlain in 1975 is fairly faithful to the book (1h 41m):

https://www.youtube.com/watch?app=desktop&v=TUCk9jK-xsU

Richard Chamberlain as The Count of Monte Cristo and Kate Nelligan as Mercédès in the 1975 film.

The second is much longer version which appeared on TV in France as a series, featuring the formidable French actor, Gérard Depardieu starring in a 6-hour version of the unabridged novel in French with English subtitles :

https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=rnAWw7MAN3U

Gérard Depardieu as Edmond Dantès and Ornella Muti as Mercédès in the French TV mini-series.

This issue of Classic Comics, published in March 1942, was No. 3 in the series, cost a mere 10 cents, and featured an adaption of The Count of Monte Cristo. The cover art was by Ray Ramsey

The particular abridged translation chosen was a great success, both for its prose style, and it’s hewing to the essential storyline without distractions. 

                                              

The Count of Monte Cristo (abridged), cover of the Château d'If, the prison where Edmond Dantès was held captive – with an Introduction by Luc Sante.

The prison is situated on the Île d’If, which is a tiny island, only three kilometres from mainland France, west of the old port of Marseille. The entire island is heavily fortified; high ramparts with gun platforms surmount the cliffs, which rise steeply from the surrounding ocean. It was built in 1524-31 on the orders of King Francis 1, apparently to defend the coastline from sea-based attacks. The isolated location and dangerous offshore currents of the château made it an ideal escape proof prison much like the island of Alcatraz in modern USA. Its use as a dumping ground for political and religious detainees soon made it one of the most feared and notorious jails in France. Over 3500 Huguenots, i.e. Protestant Christians were sent to Château d’If. This novel has made it internationally famous since 1844. Dantès makes a daring escape from the castle. In reality, no inmate is known to have made it out of the prison. The modern Château d’If maintains a roughly hewn dungeon in honour of Dantes, as a tourist attraction.

As was common practice in those days prisoners were treated differently according to their class and wealth. The poorest were placed at the bottom, up to twenty or more per cell. The wealthiest were able to pay for their own private cells higher up, with windows and a fireplace.

It is evident why this novel remains a best-seller in its many translations after almost 200 years: it provides adventure, a gripping storyline, and a great variety of characters and scenes from different regions of Europe with the local flavour imparted well. Something dramatic is always happening. It has all the ingredients for success: a mysterious hero with superhuman powers; and portrayals of jealousy, cupidity, love, and revenge. 

Major characters when the story begins – Dantès, Mercédès, Caderousse, Danglars, Villefort, Fernand and the ship Pharaon (Classic Comics)

The reader will find many passages that are worthy of attentive reading, all inspired by the grand style of Alexandre Dumas; some filled with pathos, some menacing, others full of swashbuckling braggadocio, still others soft and romancing. Some of the relationships border on adoration, impossible to find in contemporary humans with their egalitarian outlook. 

Map of Monte Cristo Island and Elba, where Napoleon was imprisoned

Monte Cristo – Christ’s Mount in English – is a tiny Mediterranean island, south of Elba. Here, Dantès discovers a treasure hinted at in the instructions given by the Abbé Faria, which helps him slip into high society as a wealthy Count. 

Monte Cristo Island, viewed from the north

In real life, Dumas celebrated the success of this novel by building himself a château he named Monte Cristo, where he played host on a scale matching that of his fictional hero.

The pearls of Guzerat and the diamonds of Golconda also find mention in the novel, indicating how famously wealthy these places were!

Corsica

Corsica features as an island in the novel; Bertuccio, the servant of the Count is Corsican.

Corsica  in the seas lies 90 kms west from Tuscany in Italy and 170 kms south and east from Côte d'Azur in France. It is the most mountainous island in the Mediterranean, a veritable ‘mountain in the sea.’ It is the fourth largest island in the Mediterranean, after Sicily, Sardinia and Cyprus. Mountains comprise two thirds of the island, forming a single chain. Forests make up 20 % of the island. The total surface area is 8680 square kilometres of which 3500 is dedicated to reserve parks. It is governed by France.

In this novel, the island is thematically important as Napoleon’s birthplace. The island is supposedly, the home of the Italian blood feud known as vendetta. This theme connects the Count’s complex plot and his Corsican servant Bertuccio’s simpler vengeance.

One of the bon mots in the novel occurs when Monte Cristo addresses Maximilian, the son of his former patron, M. Morrel thus:

The friends we have lost do not repose under the ground; they are buried deep in our hearts.

The original French is more poetic:

... les amis que nous avons perdus ne reposent pas dans la terre, ils sont ensevelis dans notre cœur ...

Which deserves an appropriate couplet in English:

The friends we’ve lost live in our hearts –
They do not lie in grassy parks.

Full Account and Record of the Session on May 26, 2022

Alexander Dumas, père: photo by Nadar

 

Alexandre Dumas, author of The Count of Monte Cristo and other novels, also known as Alexandre Dumas père, was one of the most widely read French authors. He was born on July 24, 1802 in Villers-Cotteriets, France and died on December 5, 1870, at Seine-maritime, France.

He was a novelist and playwright who belonged to the literary movement of Romanticism and Historical Fiction. His notable works are – The Three Musketeers, The Count of Monte Cristo, Twenty Years After and The Vicomte of Bragalone.

Alexandre Dumas was a quadroon, meaning one-fourth Black. His paternal grandmother, Marie-Césette Dumas was a woman of African descent and a slave in Saint-Domingue (present-day Haiti).

His wife was Ida Ferrier, with whom he had a married life of 19 years, from 1840 to 1859. He is reputed to have had forty liaisons amoureuses besides. He had three children and between four and seven illegitimate children, one of whom he educated and brought up; he became the novelist Alexandre Dumas fils.

Dumas was prolific in several genres, but began his career by writing plays. He also wrote articles in numerous magazines and travel books; his published works amount to 100,000 pages of writing. He had collaborators,, and some even allege, a production factory for novels.

The Château de Monte-Cristo in Le Port-Marly by Renaud Camus is a castle-museum dedicated to the author

His father was a General. Alexandre was born in present-day Haiti (the French Colony of Saint-Domingue then). He came to France at the age of 14 and was educated in a military academy. Because of his father’s aristocratic rank, young Alexandre acquired work with Louis Philippe, Duke of Orleans. In 1851, Dumas left for Belgium, then moved to Russia and Italy. In 1861, he published a newspaper that supported Italian Unification (also known as the Risorgimento) and Giuseppe Garibaldi, a prominent revolutionary.. He then returned to Paris in 1864.

Tomb of Alexandre Dumas at the Panthéon in Paris

The English Playwright Watts Philips described him as “the most generous, large-hearted being in the world. He also was the most delightfully amusing and egotistical creature on the face of the earth. His tongue was like a windmill – once set in motion, you never knew when he would stop, especially if the theme was himself.” 

Portions of this author bio have been taken from the wikipedia entry for Alexandre Dumas.

Gopa and Pamela chose this well-known classic as they  had enjoyed reading it in their youth. Pamela said that this book gives a beautiful message that wreaking vengeance on your enemy can never give you real happiness or fulfilment. In the Bible, God says “vengeance is mine” which means taking revenge is God’s decision and should not be the business of humans.

2003 stamp from France celebrating The Count of Monte Cristo

Pamela and  Priya thought Alexandre Dumas seemed to have a style similar to Charles Dickens’. Joe reasoned with the following comment –

“Historians disagree about the extent of his collaborative contributions but there is no doubt  that Dumas energetically increased his output by relying on other writers  to flesh out his ideas and sometimes write large portions of his books. This process allowed him to maximise his income and become incredibly prolific as a writer. (The fact that Dumas was frequently paid by the word or line is reflected in the surfeit of dialogue in his books). It is the outmoded notion of paying a writer by the number of words that leads to a great deal of inflation in Dickens and in Dumas.”

Kumkum and Pamela felt that the story had a fairy-tale touch with the dramatic escape of Edmond Dantès from the prison, his coming into great wealth, completing his mission of revenge, and finally being able to sail away with his new love, Haydee, to live happily ever after.

Google doodle celebrating The Count of Monte Cristo in 7 panels, Aug 28, 2020

The complete 7 panels may be scrolled at this website.

To facilitate keeping track of the various characters in the book and their relationship here is a Character Map taken from the Web (click to expand):

Character Map of Relationships among Characters of The Count of Monte Cristo

Thomo

Thomo chose this portion because it covers the scene around which the entire story is built.

He pruned a longer excerpt down to the KRG limit but it contains the essence of the case against Edmond Dantès and why he was sentenced to serve out his life in prison merely for carrying a letter. Of course, there was Napoleon Bonaparte and the tussle that was going on between his supporters and royalist opponents.

Villefort, the public prosecutor, was about to release Dantès when he learns that the letter Dantès carried was addressed to Noirtier the name under which his father was hiding. The ambitious Villefort knowing that he would have much to lose if the letter came to light, pretended he would be setting Dantès free, but instead had him thrown into the Château d'If, the fortress prison on an island off the coast of Marseille.

The story of The Count of Monte Christo takes off from this passage.  

Geetha

Geetha found the life of the author Alexandre Dumas a fascinating study in itself. With a cursory education,  extending to nothing intellectual, he was interested in the life of the senses and possessed a beautiful  handwriting which earned him his first job as a copyist.  He was a voracious reader in his early childhood and entered the fascinating world of literature, choosing to be a writer as that was the road to glory at that time. He had a prodigious imagination which made his stories exciting, gripping and extremely readable. [See the Introduction above]

His personality, bohemian lifestyle, and success at writing threw him into the limelight of Parisian Society. He is considered one of the greatest writers of the 19th century and his book The Count of Monte Cristo an all time best seller.

Geetha chose the passage from Chapter 12, Numbers 34 and 27, for the poignant way in which the author explains the true worth of prayer.

The description of how Dumas as a young and skilful sailor overcomes the fury of nature at sea with grit and challenges the very might of God, while shut up in the deep, dark cell of the fortress prison Chateau d’If, with no hope of escape or freedom, evokes within the reader too a sense of sorrow. In despair he chose to end his life, but is saved.

Here is the contrast captured in the story between prayer in easy times, and prayer when everything is going wrong:

”To the happy and prosperous man prayer is but a meaningless jumble of words until grief comes to explain to the unfortunate wretch the sublime language which is our means of communication with God.”

This is profound.

The figures of speech – simile and personification are poetic in its usage. “.. now death smiles on me as a nurse smiles on the child she is about to rock to sleep.”

The passage also ends on a note of hope which was elaborated by Priya in her selection a little further in the same chapter upon the entry of the Abbé Faria into the story, which marks the beginning of a beautiful friendship in captivity.

Priya

“I hear a man’s voice!” - Chapter 12

The Count of Monte Cristo, is an action-packed story by Alexandre Dumas. It is concerned with themes of hope, justice, vengeance, mercy, and forgiveness. It centres on a man (Edmond Dantès) who is wrongfully imprisoned, escapes from jail, acquires a fortune, and sets about exacting revenge on those responsible for his imprisonment.

Set during the politically volatile period in French history, the years 1815-1839, it takes the readers through the thrilling highs and dismal lows faced by the protagonist. This includes events engineered by his cunning to exact revenge. There’s never a dull moment. In a reaction to his terrifying incarceration in a cell for fourteen long years,  Dantès plans meticulously to get his own back. Dumas excels in creating dramatic situations in every chapter, and readers are thrilled by the author’s skill. No villain is left unpunished. Each meets with a fate that befits the villain those who robbed Dantes of his innocence and left him in a hopeless situation, close to suicide. Every good performed gets a just reward from the hands of Monte Cristo. Finally Monte Cristo finds the peace and love that had eluded him for so long. 

Thomas Hardy ends his novel Tess of the d'Urbervilles with the phrase  “Justice Was Done.” Here too serial justice is discharged by the various acts of Dantès. The readers will be delighted by the dramatic closures achieved.

Priya’s selected passage deals with the last few days of the hellish and hopeless life in the cell where Dantès lived beginning February 28, 1815. Hope alternated with dejection, and often he contemplated suicide. The years pass and with no sign of justice. When he was on the verge of giving up he hears a scraping sound against the wall.

What happens next is one of the most interesting sections in the book, replete with striking dramatic situations. The sound leads to the meeting of Prisoner No 34 (Dantès) with Prisoner number 27 (the Abbé Faria). The Abbé is a man of wide learning and wealthy to boot, also imprisoned unjustly. In the abridged version the exchange between the two prisoners is poignant. Here’s a dialogue that establishes a deep and immediate bond between the two men whose destinies meet in the remote cell of Château d'If: 

Dantès: Come to me or else let me come to you. We will escape together, and if we cannot escape we will talk together, you of those you love, and I of those I love. You must love someone.

Abbé Faria: I am all alone in the world.

Dantès: Then you will learn to love me. If you are young, I shall be your companion: if you are old, I shall be your son.

An external reader said a title like “Justice and Vengeance,” similar to Dostoevsky’s “Crime and Punishment” would have been apt for this novel.

The novel is an example of the Romantic literature that blossomed during the mid-nineteenth century. In its twists and turns, plots and sub plots, purple passages, the action and drama of Dumas’ novels rivals that of Charles Dickens. 

Alexandre Dumas was often teased about his black ancestry. When a Parisian gent insulted him on that account, he responded: “My father was a mulatto, my grandfather was a Negro, and my great-grandfather a monkey. You see, Sir, my family starts where yours ends.” 

Arundhaty

In the passage read by Arundhaty from Ch 22, Dantès tries to find out from the  Abbé Faria how his antagonists, Count de Morcerf, and Danglars became so rich.

Faria relates the story of Fernand Mondego’s rise through  the ranks of the Army and how he  became the Count de Morcerf, also about Mercédès finally marrying Fernand. 

In this passage, the Abbé Busoni, one of false personas of Dantès as an Italian priest, is in conversation with Caderousse, who was the old neighbour of Dantès.

Caderousse is a greedy, lazy drunk. He is present when the plot to frame Dantès is hatched, but he does not take an active part in the crime. Unlike Danglars and Mondego, Caderousse never enters into a fortune; instead he makes his living through petty crime and the occasional murder to better his own position. 

Ultimately, Caderousse's greed catches up with him when tries to rob Monte Cristo, and is killed in the attempt.

As the name Abbé Busoni connotes religious authority, the  disguise helps Dantès gain the trust of the people from whom the count wants to extract information and then exact revenge, or hand out a reward, as the case may be.

 

Caderousse laments to Dantès that his only fault was remaining silent when Danglars and Fernand hatched the plot against young Dantès – he himself had no direct part in the imprisonment of  Dantès. Yet he was left in destitution by fate while Fernand and Danglars were now rolling in wealth. 

Upon hearing the story from Caderousse the Abbé Busoni (i.e. Dantès) remarks that the hand of destiny, aided by villainy, propels some people from simple fisherfolk to positions of eminence and power.

Fernand Mondego dispossessed Mercédès' devotion for Dantès

He hears that Mercédès, out of loneliness, married the man she did not love, his former friend Fernand Mondego. Then the Abbé Busoni utters the famous phrase in Hamlet, Act 1, Scene II when Hamlet’s mother, Gertrude, marries his uncle, Claudius, soon after the murder of his father, the King:

Frailty, thy name is woman!

 

Devika

"Sad books and movies make me cry!" says Devika.

Since there's a lot of unhappiness in this world, she likes to read only happy stories, but tragedies are never far away in fiction. The initial part of TCOMC is very sad After many years of solitary sadness in the dungeon of Château d'If, Edmond sees light at the end of the tunnel when he digs out with his co-prisoner, the Abbé Faria. But what kept her reading was the fact that she  knew the happy part lay ahead. 

Château d'If, 3 km out from the harbour of Marseille port

"This passage has a feel good factor about it!"' adds Devika.

M. Morrel here is an honourable gentleman. He just cannot imagine breaking his word. Hence he chooses to end his life and maintain his reputation rather than be called a scoundrel. 

Here is where the Count starts helping his long lost patron whose business is in ruins. Generous at heart, and with a huge amount of wealth at his disposal, Edmond Dantès helps Morrel by giving him money, a huge diamond for his daughter Julie's dowry, and his rebuilt ship, the Pharaon! 

The ship Pharaon

It is excellent that Edmond’s first use of his new-found wealth and power is to help M. Morrel before going on to the further step of revenge. M. Morrel getting back his life, and the feeling of joy that he and his family recover, really seems like a fairy tale.

Devika says, she has to admit that the abridged version is an easier read than the full version which is a bit too verbose.

Saras

Though it reads as a tale of wrongful imprisonment , a daring prison escape and revenge on the movers of the plot against Edmond Dantès the protagonist, The Count of Monte Christo is a great book with a huge canvas and so many unforgettable characters and interweaving story lines. Edmond Dantès uses the weaknesses of each of the three plotters against them and extracts his revenge without killing any of them, but leaving their lives in shambles as they had done to his 19-year-old self.

Albert, Edmond Dantès, Fernand Mondego and Mercédès

The portion that Saras selected to read was where Edmond Dantès as The Count of Monte Christo first reaches Paris and goes to Count de Morcerf’s house on the invitation of his son Albert whom he has saved from bandits in Rome. Count de Morcerf’s wife is Mercedes, Edward Dantes’ fiancée, who married Fernand Mondego after Dantes was prisoned.  On entering the house, he sees a portrait of a woman who Albert says is his mother and he introduces Dantès and Madame de Morcerf. After he leaves, Mercedes questions her son about the Count of Monte Christo and cautions her son. 

Does Mercédès recognise the Count as Edmond Dantès? Though Dumas does not specifically say we can see that she has an inkling and is wary about him. In a later passage which Shobha elected to read, we can see Mercedes testing the Count and asking very pointed questions. In the book, only M. Morrel and Mercedes actually recognise Edmond Dantès. All others are unaware of his real identity. 

Other thoughts to ponder – is Dantès justified in his revenge? How is he any different from the men who sent him to prison and ruined his life and robbed him of his youth? 

Saras felt that though KRG read the abridged version due to constraints of time, she would still like to read the unabridged version to get the many nuances that are lost in reading an abridged version. 

Zakia

In this passage Monte Cristo extracts unlimited credit from the banker Danglars, and leaves the banker’s vanity in tatters.  Zakia felt a sense of victory for Dantès in this passage.

Danglars being cold blooded in pursuing success and climbing up the ladder is left speechless when asked for unlimited credit. Dantès sneers at the million francs credit offered by Danglars as if it were a paltry sum and insists on ‘unlimited credit’ from his bank.

It is narrated that a “man of Danglars’ type requires to be overwhelmed, not merely pinpricked”, and this blow had the desired effect.

The casual and confident demeanour Dantès shows leaves Danglars stunned.

Thomo made a point with regard, to Zakia’s reading where the financial institution of Baring Brothers is mentioned. Baring Brothers Bank was established in England in 1762 but Nick Leeson, a ‘rogue trader’ brought it down in 1995 with losses of £827 million.

Devika added that a relative of hers joined Baring Brothers shortly before its collapse!!

Kumkum

KumKum chose to read from Chapter 33 where a charming description is given of the sheer frivolity of upper crust life in Paris in those times. Monte Cristo plays a prank on Baron Danglars, whom his wife aptly describes as “a money-grasping speculator.” The pair of Dappled Grey horses, which belonged to the Baroness, were the source of commotions in the scene.

A Dappled Grey Horse

When Monte Cristo bought the two horses in a transaction with Baron Danglars, the Baroness had no clue. When this secret sale came to light, the Baron and Baroness had a marital altercation. This gave Monte Cristo the perverse pleasure he was aiming at. Once that was achieved, Monte Cristo had no hesitation  in  returning the pair of dappled greys to their original owner, the Baroness – with a diamond affixed to their original adornments. This shows Monte Cristo had a perverse sense of humour too.

Kavita

Monte Cristo visits Maximilian and Julie Morrel and he is happy to see that peace and contentment have returned to the family. Brother and sister tell him about the mysterious benefactor who cleared their father’s debts and saved their family from ruin. They were trying to figure out his identity. Monte Cristo gets worried that they may guess it was him, and so he tries to deflect their attention to another Englishman called Wilmore who had also helped people. Monte Cristo  is overwhelmed when Maximilian tells him that his late father always thought it was Edmond Dantès who helped them.

In this passage Monte Cristo wants to remain anonymous at any cost but he is happy to see his clearing of the debts of the Morrel family has brought them happiness and that they are grateful. He is pleased that their late father believed it was Edmond Dantès who helped them.

Shobha

Shobha chose to read from Chapter 45 titled Bread and Salt, bringing out the tragedy  of the broken relationship between Dantès and Mercédès.

Edmond Dantès loved Mercédès, but fate interrupted their plans and they get separated. Their meeting after 14 long years takes place in chapter 45, titled Bread and Salt. The Count’s bitterness is obvious. They have recognised each other, but he calls her Madame, and refuses her offer of grapes and peaches, three times. She reminds him of the Arab tradition, which seals eternal friendship between persons who eat together.The Count replies that in France eternal friendships are rare … a clear reference to Mercédès marrying Fernand Mondego, without waiting for Dantès to return. They were passionately in love as teenagers, but now, they are adults who have been altered by suffering. She is married and the mother of a young man. The Count of Monte Cristo does not wish to hurt her, but his feelings for her are different now. Nevertheless, both of them feel afresh the pain and loss they suffered when Edmond was arrested at their engagement ceremony. Mercédès wishes to be his friend, but Monte Cristo is not ready. However, in the end, he does take care of her interests, and sees to it that she is provided for after Albert leaves for Algiers. 

Monte Cristo leaves and this is the last scene of him with Mercédès … her eyes were straining to see the ship carrying her son beyond the seas; but still her voice involuntarily murmured softly, “Edmond, Edmond, Edmond.”

Joe

Joe’s reading has to do with the first of three main characters, Fernand Mondego, Danglars, and de Villefort, who conspired to throw the sailor, soon to be captain, Edmond Dantès, into the dungeon of Château d’If, from which he could never hope to escape.

In his search for revenge against Fernand Mondego who stole his sweetheart, Dantès, assumes the secret identity of the Count of Monte Cristo, and investigates the history and exploits of Fernand Mondego who rose from a simple soldier to become a general in the army of France, and later gets the title of Count de Morcerf. Morcerf joined the Spanish army, and later became a top commandant in the army of the Pasha of Janina, Ali Tebelin. In that position of trust he betrayed Ali Tebelin, murdered him, plundered his riches, and took Ali Tebelin’s wife and daughter, Haydee, as slaves and sold them. Monte Cristo rescued Haydee from slavery and brought her up in an exquisite regal manner and gave a liberal education to this spirited woman of great intelligence, whom he loved as a daughter.

In the present scene orchestrated by Monte Cristo’s revelations in the press, a Court in Paris investigates the Count de Morcerf, and finally Haydee comes forward in the Court to present documented proof of her true identity and reveal the villainy and betrayal of the Count de Morcerf.

Haydee is remarkable in this book as representing the new woman, independent, educated, able to present and argue a case on her own, but yet loyal to her benefactor, Monte Cristo. She conquers his heart in the end, and fully heals the hurt when the young Mercédès ditched him.

"I consider this particular abridged translation a great success, both for its prose style, and it’s hewing to the essential storyline without distractions. It is evident why this novel remains a best-seller in its many translations after almost 200 years: it provides adventure, a gripping storyline, and a great variety of characters and scenes from different regions of Europe with the local flavour imparted well.. Something dramatic is always happening. It has all the ingredients for success: a mysterious hero with superhuman powers; there are feelings portrayed of jealousy, love, and revenge."......opined Joe. 

Pamela

Pamela chose the passage from Ch 71, the very ending of the novel. 

As The Count of Monet Cristo sails off with Haydee, he gives a parting present to the lovers Valentine, daughter of de Villefort by his first wife, and Maximilian, the son of his old master, M. Morel.

This passage describes a happy romantic ending to a trouble-laden story. After a friend's betrayal, a torturous prison life, and a series of murders to take revenge, we come to a time of peace and quiet. Monte Cristo has realised his goal of punishing those who made him disappear and seeks no more retribution.

This part reveals the change in Edmond from a vengeful person to a generous sponsor who is willing to make a lavish wedding gift to the daughter of his past enemy!

The last line of the novel contains words spoken by Valentine, the daughter of his old enemy Gérard de Villefort, who is going to wed Maximilian, the son of Monte Cristo’s old master, M. Morel:

   all human wisdom is contained in the words ‘Wait and hope!’

This made Pamela think of  the contemporary situation. The world is in turmoil, the environment is degrading, global warming threatens the earth, there is political instability, sections of people are being set up to fight against each other, Covid has precipitated a downward slide in economies, sanctions stemming from the Ukraine war are reducing people to hunger and poverty from rising prices worldwide – the next generation faces a bleak future. We must all ‘Wait and hope.’

Readings

Thomo Ch 6 – Villefort realises the letter Dantès is carrying is addressed to his father Noirtier in Paris and would implicate him too in a Bonapartist intrigue that would be fatal to his career

“My name is Edmond Dantès,” replied the young man calmly. “I am mate of the Pharaon owned by Messrs Morrel and Son.” 

“Have you served under the usurper?” 

“I was about to be drafted into the marines when he fell.” 

“Perhaps you have no enemies, but you may have aroused feelings of jealousy. At the early age of nineteen you are about to receive a captaincy, you are going to marry a beautiful girl who loves you; these two pieces of good fortune may have been the cause of envy.” 

“Indeed, you seem such a worthy young man that I am going to depart from the ordinary rule by showing you the denunciation which has brought you before me. Here is the paper. Do you recognize the writing?” 

So saying, Villefort took the letter from his pocket and handed it to Dantès. Dantès looked at it and read it. His brow darkened as he said: 

“I believe you have told me the truth,” was Villefort’s answer, “and if you have been guilty it is through imprudence, an imprudence justified by your captain’s orders. Hand me the letter that was given you at Elba, give me your word of honour that you will appear directly you are summoned to do so, and you may rejoin your friends.” “I am free, monsieur!” Dantès cried out, overcome with joy. 

“Certainly, but first give me the letter.” 

“It must be in front of you, monsieur. It was taken along with my other papers, and I recognize some of them in that bundle.” 

“Wait a moment,” the Deputy said as Dantès was taking his hat and gloves.

“To whom was it addressed?” 

“To Monsieur Noirtier, Rue Coq Héron, Paris.”  [Rue Coq-Héron vue en direction de la rue du Louvre.png}

These words fell on Villefort’s ears with the rapidity and unexpectedness of a thunderbolt. He sank into his chair from which he had risen to reach the packet of letters, drew the fatal letter from the bundle and glanced over it with a look of inexpressible terror. 

“Monsieur Noirtier, Rue Coq Héron, number thirteen,” he murmured, growing paler and paler. “Have you shown this letter to anyone?” 

“To no one, monsieur, on my honour!” 

Villefort’s brow darkened more and more. When he had finished reading the letter his head fell into his hands, and he remained thus for a moment quite overcome. After a while he composed himself and said: “You say you do not know the contents of this letter?” 

“On my honour, monsieur, I am in complete ignorance of its contents.” 

Dantès waited for the next question, but no question came. Villefort again sank into his chair, passed his hand over his brow dripping with perspiration, and read the letter for the third time. 

“Oh! if he should know the contents of this letter!” he murmured, “and if he ever gets to know that Noirtier is the father of Villefort I am lost, lost for ever!” 

Villefort made a violent effort to pull himself together, and said in as steady a voice as possible: “I cannot set you at liberty at once as I had hoped. I must first consult the Juge d’Instruction. You see how I have tried to help you, but I must detain you a prisoner for some time longer. I will make that time as short as possible. The principal charge against you has to do with this letter, and you see—” Villefort went to the fire, threw the letter into the flames, and remained watching it until it was reduced to ashes.

Geetha Ch 12  Imprisoned without hope in the dungeon of Château d’If  Dantès seeks escape by death

Dantès passed through all the various stages of misery that affect a forgotten and forsaken prisoner in his cell. First there was pride born of hope and a consciousness of his innocence; next, he was so reduced that he began to doubt his innocence; finally his pride gave way to entreaty, yet it was not God he prayed to, for that is the last resource, but man. The wretched and miserable should turn to their Saviour first, yet they do not hope in Him until all other hope is exhausted. 

Dantès had now exhausted all human resources and turned toward God. All the pious thoughts which are sown broadcast in the human field and which are gleaned by the victims of a cruel fate came to comfort him; he recalled the prayers taught him by his mother and discovered in them a hidden meaning hitherto unknown to him. To the happy and prosperous man prayer is but a meaningless jumble of words until grief comes to explain to the unfortunate wretch the sublime language which is our means of communication with God. 

In spite of his prayers, however, Dantès still remained a prisoner.

Sometimes he said to himself: “When I was still a man, strong and free, commanding other men, I have seen the heavens open, the sea rage and foam, the storm rise in a patch of sky and like a gigantic eagle beat the two horizons with its wings. Then I felt that my ship was but a weak refuge from the tempest, for did it not shiver and shake like a feather in the hand of a giant? Soon the sight of the sharp rocks, coupled with the frightful noise of the waves, announced to me that death was near, and death terrified me. I exerted all my efforts to escape it, and I combined all my man’s strength with all my sailor’s skill in that terrible fight against God! For to me life was happy then, and to escape from the jaws of death was to return to happiness. I had no use for death; I loathed the thought of sleeping my last sleep on a bed of hard rocks and seaweed, or of serving after my death as food for gulls and vultures, I who was made in the image of God! Now, however, it is quite a different matter. I have lost all that bound me to life; now death smiles on me as a nurse smiles on the child she is about to rock to sleep; now welcome death!” No sooner had this idea taken possession of the unhappy young man than he became more calm and resigned; he felt more contented with his hard bed and black bread, ate less, slept not at all, and almost found his miserable existence supportable, for could he not cast it off at will as one casts off old clothes? 

There were two ways of dying open to him. One was quite simple; it was only a question of tying his handkerchief to a bar of the window and hanging himself. The other way was by starving himself. Hanging seemed to him a disgraceful thing, so he decided upon the second course. 

Dantès had said to himself, “I will die,” and had chosen his mode of death; he had weighed the matter well, but, being afraid he might go back on his resolution, he had sworn to himself that he would starve himself to death.  

Nearly four years had passed since he had taken this resolution; at the end of the second year he ceased to count the days. 

All at once, toward nine in the evening, just as he was hoping that death would come soon, Dantès heard a dull sound on the wall against which he was lying.

Priya Ch 12 et seq. – Edmond Dantès meets the Abbé Faria, his fellow prisoner in the dungeon of Château d’If 

Edmond Dantès meets the Abbé Faria

“Who talks of God and despair at the same time?” said a voice that seemed to come from beneath the earth, and, deadened by the distance, sounded hollow and sepulchral in the young man’s ears. Edmond’s hair stood on end, and he rose to his knees.

“Ah,” said he, “I hear a human voice.” Edmond had not heard anyone speak save his jailer for four or five years; and a jailer is no man to a prisoner—he is a living door, a barrier of flesh and blood adding strength to restraints of oak and iron.

“In the name of Heaven,” cried Dantès, “speak again, though the sound of your voice terrifies me. Who are you?”

“Who are you?” said the voice.

“An unhappy prisoner,” replied Dantès, who made no hesitation in answering.

“Of what country?”

“A Frenchman.”

“Your name?”

“Edmond Dantès.”

“Your profession?”

“A sailor.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the 28th of February, 1815.”

“Your crime?”

“I am innocent.”

“But of what are you accused?”

“Of having conspired to aid the emperor’s return.”

“What! For the emperor’s return?—the emperor is no longer on the throne, then?”

“He abdicated at Fontainebleau in 1814, and was sent to the Island of Elba. But how long have you been here that you are ignorant of all this?”

“Since 1811.”

Dantès shuddered; this man had been four years longer than himself in prison.

“Tell me, at least, who you are?”

“I am—I am No. 27.”

“You mistrust me, then,” said Dantès. Edmond fancied he heard a bitter laugh resounding from the depths.

“How old are you? Your voice is that of a young man.”

“I do not know my age, for I have not counted the years I have been here. All I do know is, that I was just nineteen when I was arrested, the 28th of February, 1815.”

“Not quite twenty-six!” murmured the voice; “at that age he cannot be a traitor.”

“Oh, no, no,” cried Dantès. “I swear to you again, rather than betray you, I would allow myself to be hacked in pieces!”

“You have done well to speak to me, and ask for my assistance, for I was about to form another plan, and leave you; but your age reassures me. I will not forget you. Wait.”

“How long?”

“I must calculate our chances; I will give you the signal.”

“But you will not leave me; you will come to me, or you will let me come to you. We will escape, and if we cannot escape we will talk; you of those whom you love, and I of those whom I love. You must love somebody?”

“No, I am alone in the world.”

“Then you will love me. If you are young, I will be your comrade; if you are old, I will be your son. I have a father who is seventy if he yet lives; I only love him and a young girl called Mercédès. My father has not yet forgotten me, I am sure, but God alone knows if she loves me still; I shall love you as I loved my father.”

+++

“It is well,” returned the voice; “tomorrow.”

Night came; Dantès hoped that his neighbor would profit by the silence to address him, but he was mistaken. The next morning, however, just as he removed his bed from the wall, he heard three knocks; he threw himself on his knees.

“Is it you?” said he; “I am here.”

“Is your jailer gone?”

“Yes,” said Dantès; “he will not return until the evening; so that we have twelve hours before us.”

“I can work, then?” said the voice.

“Oh, yes, yes; this instant, I entreat you.”

In a moment that part of the floor on which Dantès was resting his two hands, as he knelt with his head in the opening, suddenly gave way; he drew back smartly, while a mass of stones and earth disappeared in a hole that opened beneath the aperture, he himself had formed. Then from the bottom of this passage, the depth of which it was impossible to measure, he saw appear, first the head, then the shoulders, and lastly the body of a man, who sprang lightly into his cell.

Arundhaty Ch 22 This passage recounts the career of Fernand Montego who married Mercédès, entered the army, and after adventures in France, Spain, and Greece, transformed himself into Count de Morcerf

Happy? Who can answer for that? Happiness or unhappiness is the secret known but to one's self and the walls—walls have ears but no tongue; but if a large fortune produces happiness, Danglars is happy." "And Fernand?" 

"Fernand? Why, much the same story." "But how could a poor Catalan fisher-boy, without education or resources, make a fortune? I confess this staggers me." "And it has staggered everybody. There must have been in his life some strange secret that no one knows." 

"But, then, by what visible steps has he attained this high fortune or high position?"

 "Both, sir—he has both fortune and position—both." "This must be impossible!" "It would seem so; but listen, and you will understand. Some days before the return of the emperor, Fernand was drafted. 

Fernand was enrolled in the active troop, went to the frontier with his regiment, and was at the battle of Ligny. The night after that battle he was sentry at the door of a general who carried on a secret correspondence with the enemy. That same night the general was to go over to the English. He proposed to Fernand to accompany him; Fernand agreed to do so, deserted his post, and followed the general. Fernand would have been court-martialled if Napoleon had remained on the throne, but his action was rewarded by the Bourbons. He returned to France with the epaulet of sub-lieutenant, and as the protection of the general, who is in the highest favour, was accorded to him, he was a captain in 1823, during the Spanish war—that is to say, at the time when Danglars made his early speculations. Fernand was a Spaniard, and being sent to Spain to ascertain the feeling of his fellow-countrymen, found Danglars there, got on very intimate terms with him, won over the support of the royalists at the capital and in the provinces, received promises and made pledges on his own part, guided his regiment by paths known to himself alone through the mountain gorges which were held by the royalists, and, in fact, rendered such services in this brief campaign that, after the taking of Trocadero, he was made colonel, and received the title of count and the cross of an officer of the Legion of Honor."

 "Destiny! destiny!" murmured the abbé.

 "Yes, but listen: this was not all. The war with Spain being ended, Fernand sought and obtained leave to go and serve in Greece, still having his name kept on the army roll. Some time after, it was stated that the Comte de Morcerf (this was the name he bore) had entered the service of Ali Pasha with the rank of instructor-general. Ali Pasha was killed, as you know, but before he died he recompensed the services of Fernand by leaving him a considerable sum, with which he returned to France, when he was gazetted lieutenant-general."

The abbé opened his mouth, hesitated for a moment, then, making an effort at self-control, he said, "And Mercédès—they tell me that she has disappeared?" "Disappeared," said Caderousse, "yes, as the sun disappears, to rise the next day with still more splendor."

 "Has she made a fortune also?" inquired the abbé, with an ironical smile. "Mercédès is at this moment one of the greatest ladies in Paris," replied Caderousse.

 "Go on," said the abbé; "it seems as if I were listening to the story of a dream. But I have seen things so extraordinary, that what you tell me seems less astonishing than it otherwise might." 

  Three months passed and still she wept—no news of Edmond, no news of Fernand, no companionship save that of an old man who was dying with despair. Suddenly she heard a step she knew, turned anxiously around, the door opened, and Fernand, dressed in the uniform of a sub-lieutenant, stood before her. Another possessed all Mercédès' heart; that other was absent, had disappeared, perhaps was dead. 

Fernand Mondego possessed all Mercédès' heart

The old man died, as I have told you; had he lived, Mercédès, perchance, had not become the wife of another, for he would have been there to reproach her infidelity.  

 "So that," said the abbé, with a bitter smile, "that makes eighteen months in all. What more could the most devoted lover desire?" Then he murmured the words of the English poet, “Frailty, thy name is woman.”

Devika Ch 25 The Fifth of September. On the verge of taking his own life, his last ships having been lost, Morrel is rescued by his daughter discovering money and a diamond for her dowry in an old purse.

Morrel seized his son’s head between his two hands and, pressing his lips to it again and again, said: “Yes, yes, I bless you in my own name and in the name of three generations of irreproachable men. See to it, my son, that our name shall not be dishonoured. Work, fight zealously and courageously; see that you, your mother and sister, expend only what is strictly necessary so that the sacred trust I leave to you of repaying my debts of honour may be speedily fulfilled. Think how glorious the day will be, how grand and solemn, when you can restore all, and when, sitting at this same desk, you will say: ‘My father died because he could not do what I am doing to-day, but he died in peace and at rest because he knew he could put his faith in me.’”

“Oh, Father, Father!” cried the young man. “If only you could live!”

“I should be looked upon as a man who has broken his word and failed in his engagements. If I lived you would be ashamed of my name. When I am dead, you will raise your head and say ‘I am the son of him who killed himself because, for the first time in his life, he was unable to keep his word.’ Now,” continued Morrel, “leave me alone and keep your mother away. Once more farewell. Go, go, I need to be alone. You will find my will in the desk in my room.” 

When his son had gone Morrel sank into his chair and looked up at the clock. He had only seven minutes left and the hand seemed to move round with incredible rapidity. The pistols were loaded; stretching out his hand, he seized one, murmuring his daughter’s name. Putting the weapon down again, he took up his pen to write a few words. It occurred to him he might have been more affectionate in his farewell to his beloved daughter.

Then he turned to the clock again; he no longer counted by minutes, but by seconds. Taking the weapon once more, he opened his mouth with his eyes on the clock. The noise he made in cocking the pistol sent a shiver through him: a cold perspiration broke out on his forehead and he was seized by a mortal anguish.

He heard the outer door creak on its hinges. The inner door opened. The clock was about to strike eleven. Morrel did not turn round.

He put the pistol to his mouth . . . Suddenly he heard a cry . . . It was his daughter’s voice. He turned round and saw Julie. The pistol dropped from his hands.

“Father!” cried the girl out of breath and overcome with joy. “You are saved! You are saved!”

She threw herself into his arms, at the same time holding out to him a red silk purse.

“Saved, my child?” said he. “What do you mean?”

“Yes, saved! See here!”

Morrel started at sight of the purse, for he had a faint recollection that it had once belonged to him. He took it in his hand. At one end it held the receipted bill for 287,500 francs, at the other a diamond as big as a nut, with these two words written on a piece of parchment attached to it:

JULIE’S DOWRY

Morrel passed his hand across his brow: he thought he must be dreaming. At the same moment the clock struck eleven.

“Explain, my child,” said he. “Where did you find this purse?”

“On the corner of the mantel shelf of a miserable little room on the fifth floor of number fifteen, Allées de Meilhan.”

“But this purse is not yours!”

Julie showed her father the letter she had received that morning. Just then Emmanuel came rushing in full of excitement and joy.

“The Pharaon!” cried he. “The Pharaon!”

[The ship Pharaon.png]

“What? The Pharaon? Are you mad, Emmanuel? You know quite well she is lost.”

Then in came Maximilian. “Father, how could you say the Pharaon was lost? The look-out has just signalled her, and she is putting into port.”

Saras Ch 31 – The Presentation – Mercédès, now Countess de Morcerf, inquires about the about The Count of Monte Cristo and asks her son Albert to be wary 

Albert, Edmond Dantès, Fernand Mondego and Mercédès

Where  Mercédès is concerned after meeting The Count of Monte Cristo. 

“I think it is nothing more than a title. The Count has bought an island in the Tuscan Archipelago. Otherwise he lays no claim to nobility and calls himself a ‘Count of Chance,’ though the general opinion in Rome is that he is a very great lord.”

“He has excellent manners,” said the Countess, “at least so far as I could judge during the few moments he was here.”

The Countess was pensive for a moment, then after a short pause, she said: “I am addressing a question to you, Albert, as your mother. You have seen Monsieur de Monte Cristo at home. You are perspicacious, know the ways of the world, and are more tactful than most men of your age. Do you think the Count is really what he appears to be?”

“And what is that?”

“You said it yourself a minute ago, a great lord.”

“I told you, Mother, that he was considered as such.”

“But what do you think of him yourself, Albert?”

“I must own, I do not quite know what to make of him; I believe he is a Maltese.”

“I am not questioning you about his origin but about himself.”

“Ah! that is a totally different matter. I have seen so many strange traits in him that if you wish me to say what I think, I must say that I consider him as a man whom misfortune has branded; a derelict, as it were, of some old family, who, disinherited of his patrimony, has found one by dint of his own venturesome genius which places him above the rules of society. Monte Cristo is an island in the middle of the Mediterranean, without inhabitants or garrison, the resort of smugglers of every nationality and of pirates from every country. Who knows whether these worthy industrialists do not pay their lord for his protection?”

“Possibly,” said the Countess, deep in thought.

“What does it matter,” replied the young man, “whether he be a smuggler or not? Now that you have seen him, Mother, you must agree that the Count of Monte Cristo is a remarkable man who will create quite a sensation in Paris.”

“Has this man any friendship for you, Albert?” she asked with a nervous shudder.

“I believe so, Mother.”

“And you . . . are you fond of him?”

“I like him in spite of Franz d’Epinay, who always tries to convince me that he is a being returned from the other world.”

There was a strange terror in the Countess’s voice as she said:

“Albert, I have always put you on your guard against new acquaintances. Now you are a man and capable of giving me advice. Nevertheless, I repeat to you: be prudent, Albert.”

“Yet, if this advice is to be profitable, Mother, I must know in advance what I am to guard against. The Count does not gamble, he drinks nothing but water coloured with a little Spanish wine; he is said to be so rich that, without making himself a laughing-stock, he could not borrow money from me. What, then, have I to fear from him?”

“You are right,” said the Countess, “my fears are stupid; especially when directed against a man who has saved your life. By the way, did your father receive him nicely, Albert? It is important that we should not receive him like a mere stranger. Your father is sometimes preoccupied, his business worries him, and it may be that unintentionally . . .”

“My father was perfect, Mother,” Albert broke in, “what is more, he seemed greatly flattered by two or three clever and appropriate compliments the Count paid him with such ease that he might have known him for thirty years. They parted the best of friends.”

Zakia Ch 32 – Monte Cristo secures unlimited credit from the banker Danglars (654 words)

“I have received a letter of advice from Messrs Thomson and French,” Danglars said.

“I am delighted to hear it, Baron; I am delighted. It will not be necessary to introduce myself, which is always embarrassing. You say you have received a letter of advice?”

“Yes, but I must confess I do not quite understand its meaning,” said Danglars. “This letter . . . I have it with me, I think . . .” He searched in his pocket. “Yes, here it is. This letter opened credit on my bank to the Count of Monte Cristo for an unlimited sum.”

“Well, Baron, what is there incomprehensible in that?”

“Nothing, monsieur, but the word unlimited.”

“And is that word unknown in France?”

“Oh, no, monsieur, it is quite all right in regard to syntax, but not quite so from a banker’s point of view.”

“Is the banking firm of Thomson and French not sound, do you think, Baron?” asked Monte Cristo as naively as possible. “That would be a nice thing, to be sure. I have some property deposited with them.”

[The Count of Monte Cristo (Robert Donat), Jacopo (Luis Alberni) and Baron Danglars (Clarence Muse) in the 1934 film.png]

“Oh, they are perfectly sound,” replied Danglars with an almost mocking smile, “but the meaning of the word unlimited in connexion with finances is so vague . . . And what is vague is doubtful, and in doubt, says the wise man, there is danger.”

“In other words,” replied Monte Cristo, “if Thomson and French are inclined to commit a folly, Danglars’ bank is not going to follow suit. No doubt Messrs Thomson and French do not need to consider figures in their operations, but Monsieur Danglars has a limit to his. As he said just now, he is a wise man.”

“No one has ever questioned my capital, monsieur,” replied the banker proudly.

“Then obviously I am the first one to do so.”

“How so?”

“The explanations you demand of me, monsieur, which certainly appear to imply hesitation . . .”

“Why, then, monsieur, I will try to make myself clear by asking you to name the amount for which you expect to draw on me,” continued Danglars after a moment’s silence.

“But I have asked for unlimited credit because I am uncertain of the amount I shall require,” replied Monte Cristo, determined not to lose an inch of ground.

The banker thought the moment had come for him to take the upper hand; he flung himself back in the armchair and with a slow, arrogant smile on his lips, said: “Do not fear to ask, monsieur; you will then be convinced that the resources of the firm of Danglars, limited though they may be, are sufficient to meet the highest demands, even though you asked for a million . . .” 

“What did you say?”

“I said a million,” repeated Danglars with the audacity of stupidity.

“What should I do with a million?” said the Count. “Good heavens! I should not have opened an account for such a trifling sum. Why, I always carry a million in my pocket-book or my suit-case.” And he took from his small card-case two Treasury bills of five hundred thousand francs each.

A man of Danglars’ type requires to be overwhelmed, not merely pinpricked, and this blow had its effect. The banker was simply stunned. He stared at Monte Cristo in a stupefied manner, his eyes starting out of his head.

“Come, now, own that you mistrust Messrs Thomson and French. I expected this, and, though I am not very businesslike, I came fore-armed. Here are two other letters of credit similar to the one addressed to you; one is from Arstein and Eskeles of Vienna on Baron Rothschild, the other is from Baring Brothers of London on Monsieur Lafitte.

You have only to say the word, and I will relieve you of all anxiety by presenting my letter of credit to one or the other of these two firms.”

That was enough; Danglars was vanquished.

KumKum Ch 33 The pair of Dappled Greys are returned to Mme Danglars with a diamond in the head of each horse 

“Baroness, permit me to present to you the Count of Monte Cristo, who has been most warmly recommended to me by my correspondents at Rome,” said Danglars. “I will only add one fact which will make him a favourite among the ladies: he intends staying in Paris for a year and during that time he proposes spending six millions; that sounds promising for a series of balls, dinners, and supper parties, and I hope the Count will not forget us, as we shall not forget him in the small parties we give.”

Though the introduction was so vulgar in its flattery, it is such a rare event that a man comes to Paris to spend a princely fortune that Mme Danglars gave the Count a look which was not devoid of interest.

“You have come at a very bad season,” said she. “Paris is detestable in summer. There are no more balls, receptions, or parties. The Italian opera is at London, the French opera is everywhere except at Paris; there remain for our sole entertainment a third-rate race-meeting or two on the Champs de Mars or at Satory.” At this moment Baroness Danglars’ confidential maid entered and, approaching her mistress, whispered something into her ear.

Madame Danglars turned pale.

“Impossible!” said she.

“It is nevertheless the truth, madame,” replied the maid.

Madame turned to her husband: “Is this true, monsieur, what my maid tells me?”

“What has she told you, madame?” asked Danglars, visibly agitated.

“She tells me that when my coachman went to put my horses to the carriage, they were gone from the stables. What does this signify, may I ask?”

“Madame, listen to me,” said Danglars.

“I will certainly listen to you, for I am curious to know what you have to tell me. I will ask these gentlemen to be our judge. Messieurs,” continued she, “Danglars has ten horses in his stables, two of these, the handsomest in Paris, belong to me. You know my dappled greys, Monsieur Debray. I have promised to lend Madame de Villefort my carriage to go to the Bois to morrow, and now my horses are gone! I suppose monsieur has found some means of making a few thousands of francs on them and has sold them. What a money-grasping lot speculators are!”

Just then Debray, who was looking out of the window, suddenly exclaimed: “By Jove! surely those are your very horses in the Count’s carriage!”

“My dappled greys?” cried out Madame Danglars, rushing to the window. “Yes, those are mine indeed!” Danglars was astounded.

“Is it possible?” said Monte Cristo, affecting astonishment.

“It is incredible!” said the banker.

Danglars looked so pale and discomfited that the Count almost had pity on him. The banker foresaw a disastrous scene in the near future; the Baroness’s frowning brow predicted a storm. Debray saw the gathering clouds and, on pretext of an appointment, took his leave, while Monte Cristo, not wishing to mar the advantages he hoped he had gained by staying any longer, bowed to Mme Danglars and withdrew, leaving the Baron to his wife’s anger.

“All is well!” thought Monte Cristo. “I have achieved my object. The domestic peace of this family is now in my hands, and with one action I am going to win the gratitude of both the Baron and the Baroness. What a stroke of luck! But with all this,” he added, “I have not been introduced to Mademoiselle Eugénie, whose acquaintance I am very anxious to make. Never mind,” he continued with that peculiar smile of his, “I am in Paris with plenty of time before me . . . That can be left for a later date.” With this reflection, he stepped into his carriage and returned to his house. 

Two hours later Mme Danglars received a charming letter from the Count of Monte Cristo, in which he wrote that he did not wish to make his entrance into Paris society by causing annoyance to a beautiful woman, and entreated her to take back her horses. The horses were sent back wearing the same harness as in the morning, but in the centre of each rosette which adorned the sides of their heads, there was a diamond.

Kavita Ch 35 Monte Cristo is almost recognised by Julie. Her father, Monsieur Morrel, on his deathbed suspected he was Edmond Dantès  

“I have not given up hope of one day kissing that hand as I kiss the purse it has touched,” said Julie. “Four years ago, Penelon, the gallant tar you saw in the garden with a spade, was at Trieste; on the quay he saw an Englishman on the point of boarding a yacht; he recognized him as the man who came to see my father on the fifth of June, eighteen-twenty-nine, and who wrote this note on the fifth of September. He assures me it was he, but he dared not speak to him.”

“An Englishman?” asked Monte Cristo, deep in thought and feeling most uneasy every time Julie looked at him.

“An Englishman, did you say?”

“Yes,” replied Morrel, “an Englishman who introduced himself to us as the representative of Messrs Thomson and French of Rome. That is why you saw me start the other day when you mentioned that they were your bankers. As we have said, all this happened in eighteen-twenty-nine. For pity’s sake, Count, tell us, do you know this Englishman?”

“What was his name?” asked Monte Cristo.

“He left no name but the one he signed at the bottom of the letter, ‘Sindbad the Sailor,’” said Julie, looking at the Count very closely.

“Which is evidently only a pseudonym,” said Monte Cristo. Then, remarking that Julie was eyeing him more closely than ever and was trying to detect some resemblance in his voice, he continued: “Was this man not about my height, perhaps a little taller and somewhat thinner; his neck imprisoned in a high cravat; his coat closely buttoned up; and hadn’t he the habit of constantly taking out his pencil?”

“You know him then?” exclaimed Julie, her eyes sparkling with joy.

“No, I am only guessing,” said Monte Cristo. “I knew a Lord Wilmore who was continually doing things of this kind.”

“Sister, sister, remember what father so often told us,” interposed Morrel. “He always said it was not an Englishman who had done us this good turn.”

Monte Cristo started. “What did your father tell you?” he asked.

“My father regarded the deed as a miracle. He believed that a benefactor had come from his tomb to help us. It was a touching superstition, Count, and, though I could not credit it myself, I would not destroy his faith in it. How often in his dreams did he not mutter the name of a dear friend who was lost to him for ever! On his deathbed, when his mind had been given that lucidity that the near approach of death brings with it, this thought which had till then only been a superstition, became a conviction. The last words he spoke were: ‘Maximilian, it was Edmond Dantès!’” 

At these words, the Count, who had been gradually changing colour, became alarmingly pale. The blood rushed from his head, and he could not speak for a few seconds. He took out his watch as though he had forgotten the time, picked up his hat, took a hurried and embarrassed leave of Mme Herbault and, pressing the hands of Emmanuel and Maximilian, said: “Permit me to renew my visit from time to time, madame. I have spent a happy hour with you and am very grateful for the kind way in which you have received me. This is the first time for many years that I have given way to my feelings.” With that he strode rapidly out of the room.

“What a peculiar man this Count of Monte Cristo is,” said Emmanuel.

“He certainly is,” replied Maximilian, “but I believe he is very noble-hearted, and I am sure he likes us.”

“As for me,” said Julie, “his voice went to my heart, and two or three times it occurred to me that I had heard it before.”

Shoba Ch 45 The Count of Monte Cristo declines muscatel grapes and narrates to Mercédès that he waited to marry a girl whom he loved but she did not tarry 

“I must ask you to excuse me, madame, I never eat Muscatel grapes.”

With a sigh Mercédès dropped the grapes. A magnificent peach, warmed by the artificial heat of the conservatory,

was hanging against an adjoining wall. Mercédès plucked it.

“Take this peach, then.”

The Count again refused.

“What, again!” she exclaimed in so plaintive a tone that one felt she was stifling a sob. “Really, Count, you pain me.”

A long silence ensued; like the grapes, the peach rolled to the ground.

“There is a touching Arabian custom, Count,” Mercédès said at last, looking at Monte Cristo supplicatingly, “which makes eternal friends of those who share bread and salt under the same roof.”

“I know it, madame, but we are in France and not in Arabia, and in France eternal friendships are as rare as the beautiful custom you just mentioned.”

“But we are friends, are we not?” said the Countess breathlessly, with her eyes fixed on Monte Cristo, whose arm she convulsively clasped between her two hands.

“Certainly we are friends, madame,” he replied, “in any case, why should we not be?”

His tone was so different from what Mercédès desired that she turned away to give vent to a sigh resembling a

groan.

“Thank you!” was all she said; she began to walk on, and they went all round the garden without uttering another word. After about ten minutes’ silence, she suddenly said: “Is it true that you have seen much, travelled far, and suffered deeply?”

“I have suffered deeply, madame,” answered Monte Cristo.

“But now you are happy?”

“Doubtless,” replied the Count, “since no one hears me complain.”

“And has your present happiness softened your heart?”

“My present happiness equals my past misery,” said the Count.

“Are you not married?” asked the Countess.

“I, married!” exclaimed Monte Cristo shuddering, “who could have told you that?”

“No one told me you were, but you have frequently been seen at the Opera with a young and lovely person.”

“She is a slave whom I bought at Constantinople, madame, the daughter of a prince. Having no one else to love in the world, I have adopted her as my daughter.”

“You live alone, then?”

“I do.”

“You have no sister, no son, no father?”

“I have no one.”

“How can you live thus, with no one to attach you to life?”

“It is not my fault, madame. At Malta, I loved a young girl, and was on the point of marrying her when war came and carried me away, as in a whirlpool. I thought she loved me well enough to wait for me, even to remain faithful to my memory. When I returned she was married. Most men who have passed thirty have the same tale to tell, but perhaps my heart was weaker than that of others, and in consequence I suffered more than they would have done in my place. That’s all.”

The Countess stopped for a moment, as if gasping for breath. “Yes,” she said, “and you have still preserved this love in your heart—one can only love once—and have you ever seen her again?”

“Never!”

“Never?”

“I have never returned to the country where she lived.”

“At Malta?”

“Yes, at Malta.”

“She is now at Malta, then?”

“I think so.”

“And have you forgiven her for all she has made you suffer?”

“Yes, I have forgiven her.”

“But only her. Do you still hate those who separated you?” The Countess placed herself before Monte Cristo, still holding in her hand a portion of the fragrant grapes.

“Take some,” she said.

“I never eat Muscatel grapes, madame,” replied Monte Cristo as if the subject had not been mentioned before.

Joe Ch 54 The Trial. Haydee, Ali Tebelin’s daughter, describes the treason of the Count de Morcerf to the court in Paris and denounces him with proof of his treachery 

Murderer! Murderer! Your master’s blood is still on your brow!

Look at him, all of you!”

These words were spoken with such vehemence and with such force of truth that everyone looked at the Count’s forehead, and he himself put his hand up as though he felt Ali’s blood still warm upon his forehead.

“You positively recognize Monsieur de Morcerf as this same officer, Fernand Mondego?”

“Do I recognize him?” cried Haydee. “Oh, Mother! You said to me: ‘You are free. You had a father whom you loved; you were destined to be almost a queen. Look well at this man who has made you a slave; it is he who has placed your father’s head on the pike, it is he who has sold us, it is he who has betrayed us! Look at his right hand with its large scar. If you forget his face, you will recognize this hand into which El Kobbir’s gold fell, piece by piece!’ Oh, yes, I know him! Let him tell you himself whether he does not recognize me now!”

Each word cut Morcerf like a knife, and broke down his determination. At the last words he instinctively hid his hand in his bosom, for as a matter of fact it bore the mark of a wound, and once more he sank back into his chair. This scene had set the opinions of the assembly in a veritable turmoil, like leaves torn from their branches by the violence of a north wind.

“Do not lose courage, Count,” said the President. “The justice of this court, like that of God, is supreme and equal to all; it will not permit you to be crushed by your enemies without giving you the means of defending yourself. Do you wish to have further investigations made? Do you wish me to send two members of the Chamber to Janina? Speak!”

Morcerf made no reply.

All the members of the Committee looked at one another in horror. They knew the Count’s energetic and violent temper, and realized it must have needed a terrible blow to break down this man’s defence; they could but think that this sleep-like silence would be followed by an awakening resembling thunder in its force.

“What have you decided?” the President asked.

“Nothing,” said the Count, in a toneless voice.

“Then Ali Tebelin’s daughter has spoken the truth? She is indeed the dreaded witness in face of whose evidence the guilty one dares not answer: ‘Not guilty?’ You have actually committed the crimes of which she accuses you?” The Count cast around him a look of despair such as would have elicited mercy from a tiger, but it could not disarm his judges; then he raised his eyes toward the roof but instantly turned them away again, as though fearful lest it should open and he should find himself before that other tribunal they call Heaven, and face to face with that other judge whom they call God. He tore at the buttons that fastened the coat which was choking him and walked out of the room like one demented. For an instant his weary steps echoed dolefully, but the sound was soon followed by the rattling of his carriage wheels as he was borne away at a gallop.

“Messieurs,” said the President when silence was restored, “is the Count of Morcerf guilty of felony, treason, and dishonour?”

“Yes,” was the unanimous reply of all the members.

Haydee was present to the end of the meeting; she heard the verdict passed on the Count, but neither pity nor joy was depicted on her features. Covering her face with her veil, she bowed to the councillors and left the room with queenly tread.

Pamela Ch 71 As The Count of Monet Cristo sails off with Haydee, he gives a parting present to the lovers Valentine, daughter of de Villefort by his first wife, and Maximilian, the son of his old master, Morel. 

“Oh, I still live!” he cried in accents of despair. “The Count has deceived me!” Extending his hand toward the table, he seized a knife.

“My dear one!” said Valentine with her sweet smile. “Awake and look at me!”

With a loud cry, frantic, doubting, and dazzled as by a celestial vision, Morrel fell upon his knees.

At daybreak the next day Morrel and Valentine were walking arm in arm along the seashore, while Valentine related how Monte Cristo had appeared in her room, how he had disclosed everything and pointed to the crime, and finally how he had miraculously saved her from death by making believe that she was dead. 

They had found the door of the grotto open and had gone out whilst the last stars of the night were still shining in the morning sky. After a time, Morrel perceived a man standing amongst the rocks waiting for permission to advance, and pointed him out to Valentine.

“It is Jacopo, the captain of the yacht!” she said, making signs for him to approach.

“Have you something to tell us?” Morrel asked.

“I have a letter from the Count for you.”

“From the Count!” they exclaimed together.

“Yes, read it.”

Morrel opened the letter and read:

MY DEAR MAXIMILIAN,

There is a felucca waiting for you. Jacopo will take you to Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier is awaiting his granddaughter to give her his blessing before you conduct her to the altar. All that is in the grotto, my house in the 

Champs-Élysées, and my little château at Tréport are the wedding present of Edmond Dantès to the son of his old master, Morrel. Ask Mademoiselle de Villefort to accept one half, for I beseech her to give to the poor of Paris all the money which she inherits from her father, who is now insane, as also from her brother, who died last September with her stepmother.

Tell the angel who is going to watch over you, Morrel, to pray for a man who, like Satan, believed for one moment he was the equal of God, but who now acknowledges in all Christian humility that in God alone is supreme power and infinite wisdom. Her prayers will perhaps soothe the remorse in the depths of his heart.

Live and be happy, beloved children of my heart, and never forget that, until the day comes when God will deign to reveal the future to man, all human wisdom is contained in these words: Wait and hope!

Your friend,

EDMOND DANTÈS, Count of Monte Cristo

During the perusal of this letter, which informed Valentine for the first time of the fate of her father and her brother, she turned pale, a painful sigh escaped from her bosom, and silent tears coursed down her cheeks; her happiness had cost her dear.

Morrel looked around him uneasily.

“Where is the Count, my friend?” said he. “Take me to him.”

Jacopo raised his hand toward the horizon.

“What do you mean?” asked Valentine. “Where is the Count? Where is Haydee?”

“Look!” said Jacopo.

The eyes of the two young people followed the direction of the sailor’s hand, and there, on the blue horizon separating the sky from the Mediterranean, they perceived a sail, which loomed large and white like a seagull.

“Gone!” cried Morrel. “Farewell, my friend, my father!”

“Gone!” murmured Valentine. “Good-bye, my friend, my sister!”

“Who knows whether we shall ever see them again,” said Morrel, wiping away a tear.

“My dear,” replied Valentine, “has not the Count just told us that all human wisdom is contained in the words ‘Wait and hope!’