The Son of Monte-Cristo

by Jules Lermina

  CHAPTER XXXIII.

  FACE TO FACE.

  The hotel of the Marquis de Fongereues was ablaze with lights. Magdalenahaving determined that her son's triumph should be dazzling, invitationshad been sent to every one of distinction. For a long time rumors hadbeen in circulation adverse to the Fongereues family, and the gay crowd,always ready to desert a falling house, had shown great coolness to themall. But as soon as the favors shown by the king became known at theclubs, the family were quickly reinstated in public opinion.

  About nine o'clock carriages began to roll through the streets near thehotel, the doors of which were thrown wide open to welcome the comingguests, who bore the oldest and noblest names of France.

  Fongereues, under an air of great dignity, concealed the joy and pridethat swelled his heart. Magdalena was superb in her matronly beauty andher diamonds. Talizac was excessively pale, his worn face telling thestory of his excesses and the excitement of the previous night.Francine's flight, which he believed to have been arranged by the manand woman whom he had employed as his tools, had driven him nearly madwith rage, from which he had not yet recovered.

  Suddenly a murmur of admiration ran around the room. Mademoiselle deSalves had just come in. Her mother had with difficulty risen from hersick bed to witness the triumph of her child.

  Irene was certainly very beautiful, and her toilette was characterizedby exquisite simplicity. But her face was sad, and the brilliancy of hereyes was due to fever. Why had she come? Why had she not resisted thewishes of her mother? A great change had come over the girl. All herformer energy and innumerable caprices had given way to a charmingtimidity. She was all the time conscious that she concealed a secret inher heart, and that since a certain memorable day she thought of but oneperson. Her vanity, her patrician pride, all revolted against thistruth. The name she repeated over and over again, was that of Fanfar.Whenever she closed her eyes she saw him, haughty and courageous,risking his life to save that of his adopted father. She heard his richvoice and the words he uttered:

  "Make yourself beloved."

  She struggled with all her power against this infatuation, and had cometo Paris. There she saw him again, no longer in his theatrical costume,but dressed like the young men she met in society. He had saved her frombeing killed by the heavy timber. He had held her a minute in his arms,and she had felt his heart beat against her own. A hundred times sincethen she had seen him ride past the house, and over and over again sheknew that he had thrown flowers over the wall. With trembling joy shehad carried these flowers to the privacy of her own rooms. Shequestioned them, but they were mute and kept the secret that Fanfar hadundoubtedly confided to them.

  Who was this Fanfar? Irene's imagination ran riot. She heard him calleda conspirator whom the police watched. He belonged to the party whoaimed at the overthrowal of the royal power. How did one so lowlyventure to menace one so high? Irene meditated and studied; her youthfulmind awoke to great truths, and she realized that men like Fanfar wereworking for a great cause, and her soul was filled with noble wrathagainst those persons who were ruining and dishonoring France. Howsolitary she felt herself! How ignorant! How she longed to interrogateFanfar on these great subjects. But she well knew that this was animpossible dream. He was far away from her, and love had made her timid.She ceased to struggle, but all the time asked herself why he did notcome to save her from the fate hourly drawing nearer. She knew that hermother had promised her hand to the Vicomte de Talizac, and she knewthat if she made any resistance it would break her mother's heart; butas the hour drew near when her sacrifice was to be consummated, Irenefelt herself very weak.

  She entered the Fongereues salon in a state of suppressed excitement,very pale but very beautiful. The Marquis met her and drew her armthrough his. This marriage was his salvation. He, too, thought of Fanfarwith a certain pity, for he knew that this mountebank, as he scornfullycalled him, was the only man who had the right to call himself theMarquis de Fongereues.

  Irene's arrival was the signal for the opening of the ball. Theorchestra began to play a waltz. Then came a sudden silence. Amagnificent person entered, an officer of the Royal Guard, in his whiteand gold uniform. He was received by the Marquis de Fongereues.

  "Marquis," he said, "I come in the name of the king."

  Every one listened with bated breath. Fongereues was radiant.

  "Desirous of recompensing services rendered to the holy cause ofmonarchy, His Majesty has condescended to lend a favorable ear tocertain applications, and, Monsieur, I am the bearer of the commissionwhich confers on your son the rank of lieutenant in the King's Guards."

  Magdalena laid her hand on Frederic's shoulder.

  "Talizac," she said, "remember that your life and the lives of theFongereues belong to the king."

  Talizac bowed low, and as he turned he gave Irene a look of triumph.She, poor girl, knew that her fate was sealed.

  "How happy you will be!" whispered her mother, tenderly.

  "Happy!" repeated Irene, drearily.

  But this was not all. The Royal Envoy had not completed his mission. LaVicomte de Talizac was made a Chevalier de Saint-Louis.

  "_Vive le Roi!_" cried the women, gayly.

  Monsieur de Montferrand turned to his son Arthur. "You see, sir," hesaid, in a severe tone, "how our King, a worthy son of Henri IV.,rewards those whom he finds worthy of his protection."

  Arthur de Montferrand had, in obedience to his father's wishes,accompanied him to this entertainment. The two young men exchanged a fewwords of feigned cordiality, but Arthur felt the most profound contemptfor the Vicomte; while the image of Francine in the power of thosescoundrels haunted him perpetually.

  Fernando did not make his appearance, and Arthur dared not talk to anyone else of this miserable affair in which he had been engaged. Helistened with a shudder to the congratulations and compliments showeredupon the Vicomte, who finally had the audacity to go up to Arthur anddemand his felicitations.

  Arthur started, and said low in his ear, "I will congratulate you, sir,when the mark upon your cheek, which I imprinted there, is no longer tobe seen."

  Talizac uttered an exclamation, but Monsieur de Montferrand, suspectingwhat was going on, stepped forward.

  "Arthur," he said sternly, "apologize to the Vicomte for your rashwords, or leave this house!"

  Arthur looked reproachfully at his father, and moved toward the door. Atthe same moment a great tumult was heard in the hall.

  "What can it be?" said De Fongereues, nervously.

  A door was flung open, servants were thrust aside, and a man bearing theinanimate form of a young girl, entered the ball-room.

  "Fanfar!" cried Arthur de Montferrand. It was, indeed, Fanfar.

  Standing in the centre of the ball-room, for no man ventured to opposehis progress, he addressed himself to the crowd.

  "Gentlemen," he said, "behold the body of the unhappy girl whom theVicomte de Talizac has murdered!"

  There was a moment of silence, then the women screamed and fled, whilethe men turned pale and looked at each other.

  Talizac caught at the mantel for support. Fongereues had heard Arthurutter the name of Fanfar, and shuddered at the ill-omen.

  From Francine's drenched garments water was dripping upon the floor, andthe pale face rested on Fanfar's shoulder.

  The Marquis hastened forward. "Who is this man? What is he doing here?"he cried.

  "Monsieur," said Fanfar, "a crime has been committed, the guilty must bepunished, and this guilt is upon your son's head. You, gentlemen, seemto think that to your rank everything is permitted. Behold a young girlwho, pure and industrious, toiled for her daily bread. This Vicomte deTalizac abducted her with the assistance of his paid emissaries. Thepoor creature, driven to despair, committed suicide. This is what yourson has done, Marquis! Can you conceive of a more cowardly or infamousact?"

  And Fanfar, with head erect and lightning in his eyes, looked withcontempt on the people about him.

  Arthur rushed to his side.
"Dead!" he cried, "is she dead?"

  Fanfar gently laid Francine upon the floor. "Is there no one among allthese ladies who will see if this girl lives? Beats there not one heartunder all this silk and velvet?"

  A woman advanced and knelt by the side of Francine. It was Irene deSalves.

  "What does this senseless comedy mean?" asked the Marquis de Fongereues,angrily.

  "It is no comedy, it is a horrible tragedy," answered Fanfar, coldly."Ask what explanations you please from your son; he must answer you. Seehow he trembles; ask him if what I have said is not true?"

  Talizac made a violent effort, and turning to his father, said, "Thisman lies!"

  "And I, sir, swear that he speaks the truth!" cried Arthur deMontferrand. "Ah! Monsieur de Talizac, you forget too quickly; but mymemory recalls the fact that the marks now on your face were imprintedyesterday by my hand, when you attacked me with a knife, because Iendeavored to prevent you from committing this crime!"

  "Liar!" shouted Talizac. Then turning to the crowd of spectators:"Gentlemen," he said, "I am the victim of a most monstrous calumny, andI call on you to treat this scoundrel with his trumped-up tale as hedeserves!"

  Not one moved. Fanfar, with folded arms, stood looking at them.

  "She lives!" cried Irene. "She breathes! Mother, dear mother, permitthis girl to be carried to our home. I will bring her back to life; youwill give me permission?" she asked, turning to Fanfar.

  "She is my sister!" said Fanfar.

  Irene imprinted a kiss on Francine's brow. This was her reply toFanfar's words.

  Talizac ran to the door of the salon and summoned the lacqueys. "Here,take this man away!"

  And, as they crowded in, Fanfar said: "Who dares lay a hand on me?"

  "I do!" answered a voice behind him, as a hand was laid on his shoulder."In the name of the king, I arrest you!"

  The man who uttered these words wore a white scarf, fringed with gold.Soldiers filled every doorway.

  "Monsieur," said the Magistrate, to Fongereues, "a man has just beenfound endeavoring to conceal himself in the apartments of His Majesty.He had arms concealed about his person, and did not hesitate to confessthat he came with the intention of killing the king."

  A cry of horror ran around the room. Fongereues was overjoyed. Cyprienhad kept his word.

  "And this man," continued the Magistrate, "when summoned to name hisaccomplices, said that he obeyed the instructions of a secret society,of which this Fanfar is the chief."

  "An infamous falsehood!" exclaimed Fanfar.

  "An assassin! never!" murmured Irene, as she rose from her knees,hastily.

  Arthur held her back. He had divined her secret. "Do not betrayyourself," he whispered, "rely on me."

  Fanfar looked around. Escape was impossible. He turned to Irene. "Savemy sister!" he said to her.

  She bowed assent. Then Fanfar spoke to the Magistrate. "This unfoundedaccusation will recoil on the heads of my calumniators. I have beenagainst the monarchy, but I have had no hand in any plot with murder asits object. I am at your service, gentlemen!"

  Arthur whispered in the ear of de Talizac:

  "To-morrow, if you are not a coward, I shall expect you!"

  "And I will kill you!" answered the Vicomte.

  In another hour the guests had left the Hotel de Fongereues.