Literary Love

by Gabrielle Vigot

  “Meanwhile, the president carelessly opened the letter which had been brought to him; but the first lines aroused his attention; he read them again and again, and fixing his eyes on M. de Morcerf, ‘Count,’ said he, ‘you have said that the Vizier of Yanina confided his wife and daughter to your care?’—’Yes, sir,’ replied Morcerf; ‘but in that, like all the rest, misfortune pursued me. On my return, Vasiliki and her daughter Haidee had disappeared.’—’Did you know them?’—’My intimacy with the pasha and his unlimited confidence had gained me an introduction to them, and I had seen them above twenty times.’

  “‘Have you any idea what became of them?’—’Yes, sir; I heard they had fallen victims to their sorrow, and, perhaps, to their poverty. I was not rich; my life was in constant danger; I could not seek them, to my great regret.’ The president frowned imperceptibly. ‘Gentlemen,’ said he, ‘you have heard the Comte de Morcerf’s defense. Can you, sir, produce any witnesses to the truth of what you have asserted?’—’Alas, no, monsieur,’ replied the count; ‘all those who surrounded the vizier, or who knew me at his court, are either dead or gone away, I know not where. I believe that I alone, of all my countrymen, survived that dreadful war. I have only the letters of Ali Tepelini, which I have placed before you; the ring, a token of his goodwill, which is here; and, lastly, the most convincing proof I can offer, after an anonymous attack, and that is the absence of any witness against my veracity and the purity of my military life.’ A murmur of approbation ran through the assembly; and at this moment, Albert, had nothing more transpired, your father’s cause had been gained. It only remained to put it to the vote, when the president resumed: ‘Gentlemen and you, monsieur,—you will not be displeased, I presume, to listen to one who calls himself a very important witness, and who has just presented himself. He is, doubtless, come to prove the perfect innocence of our colleague. Here is a letter I have just received on the subject; shall it be read, or shall it be passed over? And shall we take no notice of this incident?’ M. de Morcerf turned pale, and clinched his hands on the papers he held. The committee decided to hear the letter; the count was thoughtful and silent. The president read:—

  “‘Mr. President,—I can furnish the committee of inquiry into the conduct of the Lieutenant-General the Count of Morcerf in Epirus and in Macedonia with important particulars.’

  “The president paused, and the count turned pale. The president looked at his auditors. ‘Proceed,’ was heard on all sides. The president resumed:—

  “‘I was on the spot at the death of Ali Pasha. I was present during his last moments. I know what is become of Vasiliki and Haidee. I am at the command of the committee, and even claim the honor of being heard. I shall be in the lobby when this note is delivered to you.’

  “‘And who is this witness, or rather this enemy?’ asked the count, in a tone in which there was a visible alteration. ‘We shall know, sir,’ replied the president. ‘Is the committee willing to hear this witness?’—’Yes, yes,’ they all said at once. The doorkeeper was called. ‘Is there any one in the lobby?’ said the president.

  “‘Yes, sir.’—’Who is it?’—’A woman, accompanied by a servant.’ Every one looked at his neighbor. ‘Bring her in,’ said the president. Five minutes after the doorkeeper again appeared; all eyes were fixed on the door, and I,” said Beauchamp, “shared the general expectation and anxiety. Behind the doorkeeper walked a woman enveloped in a large veil, which completely concealed her. It was evident, from her figure and the perfumes she had about her, that she was young and fastidious in her tastes, but that was all. The president requested her to throw aside her veil, and it was then seen that she was dressed in the Grecian costume, and was remarkably beautiful.”

  “Ah,” said Albert, “it was she.”

  “Who?”

  “Haidee.”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Alas, I guess it. But go on, Beauchamp. You see I am calm and strong. And yet we must be drawing near the disclosure.”

  “M. de Morcerf,” continued Beauchamp, “looked at this woman with surprise and terror. Her lips were about to pass his sentence of life or death. To the committee the adventure was so extraordinary and curious, that the interest they had felt for the count’s safety became now quite a secondary matter. The president himself advanced to place a seat for the young lady; but she declined availing herself of it. As for the count, he had fallen on his chair; it was evident that his legs refused to support him.

  “‘Madame,’ said the president, ‘you have engaged to furnish the committee with some important particulars respecting the affair at Yanina, and you have stated that you were an eyewitness of the event.’—’I was, indeed,’ said the stranger, with a tone of sweet melancholy, and with the sonorous voice peculiar to the East.

  “‘But allow me to say that you must have been very young then.’—’I was four years old; but as those events deeply concerned me, not a single detail has escaped my memory.’—’In what manner could these events concern you? and who are you, that they should have made so deep an impression on you?’—’On them depended my father’s life,’ replied she. ‘I am Haidee, the daughter of Ali Tepelini, pasha of Yanina, and of Vasiliki, his beloved wife.’

  “The blush of mingled pride and modesty which suddenly suffused the cheeks of the young woman, the brilliancy of her eye, and her highly important communication, produced an indescribable effect on the assembly. As for the count, he could not have been more overwhelmed if a thunderbolt had fallen at his feet and opened an immense gulf before him. ‘Madame,’ replied the president, bowing with profound respect, ‘allow me to ask one question; it shall be the last: Can you prove the authenticity of what you have now stated?’—’I can, sir,’ said Haidee, drawing from under her veil a satin satchel highly perfumed; ‘for here is the register of my birth, signed by my father and his principal officers, and that of my baptism, my father having consented to my being brought up in my mother’s faith,—this latter has been sealed by the grand primate of Macedonia and Epirus; and lastly (and perhaps the most important), the record of the sale of my person and that of my mother to the Armenian merchant El-Kobbir, by the French officer, who, in his infamous bargain with the Porte, had reserved as his part of the booty the wife and daughter of his benefactor, whom he sold for the sum of four hundred thousand francs.’ A greenish pallor spread over the count’s cheeks, and his eyes became bloodshot at these terrible imputations, which were listened to by the assembly with ominous silence.

  “Haidee, still calm, but with a calmness more dreadful than the anger of another would have been, handed to the president the record of her sale, written in Arabic. It had been supposed some of the papers might be in the Arabian, Romaic, or Turkish language, and the interpreter of the House was in attendance. One of the noble peers, who was familiar with the Arabic language, having studied it during the famous Egyptian campaign, followed with his eye as the translator read aloud:—

  “‘I, El-Kobbir, a slave-merchant, and purveyor of the harem of his highness, acknowledge having received for transmission to the sublime emperor, from the French lord, the Count of Monte Cristo, an emerald valued at eight hundred thousand francs; as the ransom of a young Christian slave of eleven years of age, named Haidee, the acknowledged daughter of the late lord Ali Tepelini, pasha of Yanina, and of Vasiliki, his favorite; she having been sold to me seven years previously, with her mother, who had died on arriving at Constantinople, by a French colonel in the service of the Vizier Ali Tepelini, named Fernand Mondego. The above-mentioned purchase was made on his highness’s account, whose mandate I had, for the sum of four hundred thousand francs.

  “‘Given at Constantinople, by authority of his highness, in the year 1247 of the Hegira.

  “‘Signed El-Kobbir.’

  “‘That this record should have all due authority, it shall bear the imperial seal, which the vendor is bound to have affixed to it.’

  “Near the merchant’s signature there was, indeed, the
seal of the sublime emperor. A dreadful silence followed the reading of this document; the count could only stare, and his gaze, fixed as if unconsciously on Haidee, seemed one of fire and blood. ‘Madame,’ said the president, ‘may reference be made to the Count of Monte Cristo, who is now, I believe, in Paris?’—’Sir,’ replied Haidee, ‘the Count of Monte Cristo, my foster-father, has been in Normandy the last three days.’

  “‘Who, then, has counseled you to take this step, one for which the court is deeply indebted to you, and which is perfectly natural, considering your birth and your misfortunes?’—’Sir,’ replied Haidee, ‘I have been led to take this step from a feeling of respect and grief. Although a Christian, may God forgive me, I have always sought to revenge my illustrious father. Since I set my foot in France, and knew the traitor lived in Paris, I have watched carefully. I live retired in the house of my noble protector, but I do it from choice. I love retirement and silence, because I can live with my thoughts and recollections of past days. But the Count of Monte Cristo surrounds me with every paternal care, and I am ignorant of nothing which passes in the world. I learn all in the silence of my apartments,—for instance, I see all the newspapers, every periodical, as well as every new piece of music; and by thus watching the course of the life of others, I learned what had transpired this morning in the House of Peers, and what was to take place this evening; then I wrote.’

  “‘Then,’ remarked the president, ‘the Count of Monte Cristo knows nothing of your present proceedings?’—’He is quite unaware of them, and I have but one fear, which is that he should disapprove of what I have done. But it is a glorious day for me,’ continued the young girl, raising her ardent gaze to heaven, ‘that on which I find at last an opportunity of avenging my father!’

  “The count had not uttered one word the whole of this time. His colleagues looked at him, and doubtless pitied his prospects, blighted under the perfumed breath of a woman. His misery was depicted in sinister lines on his countenance. ‘M. de Morcerf,’ said the president, ‘do you recognize this lady as the daughter of Ali Tepelini, pasha of Yanina?’—’No,’ said Morcerf, attempting to rise, ‘it is a base plot, contrived by my enemies.’ Haidee, whose eyes had been fixed on the door, as if expecting some one, turned hastily, and, seeing the count standing, shrieked, ‘You do not know me?’ said she. ‘Well, I fortunately recognize you! You are Fernand Mondego, the French officer who led the troops of my noble father! It is you who surrendered the castle of Yanina! It is you who, sent by him to Constantinople, to treat with the emperor for the life or death of your benefactor, brought back a false mandate granting full pardon! It is you who, with that mandate, obtained the pasha’s ring, which gave you authority over Selim, the fire-keeper! It is you who stabbed Selim. It is you who sold us, my mother and me, to the merchant, El-Kobbir! Assassin, assassin, assassin, you have still on your brow your master’s blood! Look, gentlemen, all!”

  “These words had been pronounced with such enthusiasm and evident truth, that every eye was fixed on the count’s forehead, and he himself passed his hand across it, as if he felt Ali’s blood still lingering there. ‘You positively recognize M. de Morcerf as the officer, Fernand Mondego?’—’Indeed I do!’ cried Haidee. ‘Oh, my mother, it was you who said, “You were free, you had a beloved father, you were destined to be almost a queen. Look well at that man; it is he who raised your father’s head on the point of a spear; it is he who sold us; it is he who forsook us! Look well at his right hand, on which he has a large wound; if you forgot his features, you would know him by that hand, into which fell, one by one, the gold pieces of the merchant El-Kobbir!” I know him! Ah, let him say now if he does not recognize me!’ Each word fell like a dagger on Morcerf, and deprived him of a portion of his energy; as she uttered the last, he hid his mutilated hand hastily in his bosom, and fell back on his seat, overwhelmed by wretchedness and despair. This scene completely changed the opinion of the assembly respecting the accused count.

  “‘Count of Morcerf,’ said the president, ‘do not allow yourself to be cast down; answer. The justice of the court is supreme and impartial as that of God; it will not suffer you to be trampled on by your enemies without giving you an opportunity of defending yourself. Shall further inquiries be made? Shall two members of the House be sent to Yanina? Speak!’ Morcerf did not reply. Then all the members looked at each other with terror. They knew the count’s energetic and violent temper; it must be, indeed, a dreadful blow, which would deprive him of courage to defend himself. They expected that his stupefied silence would be followed by a fiery outburst. ‘Well,’ asked the president, ‘what is your decision?’

  “‘I have no reply to make,’ said the count in a low tone.

  “‘Has the daughter of Ali Tepelini spoken the truth?’ said the president. ‘Is she, then, the terrible witness to whose charge you dare not plead “Not guilty”? Have you really committed the crimes of which you are accused?’ The count looked around him with an expression which might have softened tigers, but which could not disarm his judges. Then he raised his eyes towards the ceiling, but withdrew then, immediately, as if he feared the roof would open and reveal to his distressed view that second tribunal called heaven, and that other judge named God. Then, with a hasty movement, he tore open his coat, which seemed to stifle him, and flew from the room like a madman; his footstep was heard one moment in the corridor, then the rattling of his carriage-wheels as he was driven rapidly away. ‘Gentlemen,’ said the president, when silence was restored, ‘is the Count of Morcerf convicted of felony, treason, and conduct unbecoming a member of this House?’—’Yes,’ replied all the members of the committee of inquiry with a unanimous voice.

  “Haidee had remained until the close of the meeting. She heard the count’s sentence pronounced without betraying an expression of joy or pity; then drawing her veil over her face she bowed majestically to the councilors, and left with that dignified step which Virgil attributes to his goddesses.”

  Once outside the lady climbed into her coach, waiting for her there was the count himself. She gasped when she saw him, surprised at his waiting presence and threw back her heavy veil.

  “Are you pleased?” he asked, turning toward her and grasping her hand in his own.

  “Yes,” the tilt of her head showed defiance and the headstrong nature he had long associated with her.

  The full lips and shiny weight of her hair enticed him. He pulled away from her quickly but she followed and sat next to him on the opposite side of the coach.

  “Why do you pull away from me?”

  “Because you are my ward. I can’t, lady, you tempt my mind to things it should not want…”

  Haidee jerked at his words and replied, “You care for me, I feel it when you touch me, you want me as a man wants a woman, as a husband wants his wife, admit it to me.”

  “I will not,” the count said, as headstrong as the young girl herself.

  “Then you force me to make you admit it.”

  The count wrinkled his forehead and stared down at Haidee who began to shift so close to him their thighs touched beneath layers of clothing. He swallowed his uncertainty as she reached out and stroked his cheek. His resolve began to crumble in that singular touch. This lady held his heart like Mercedes might have, had she not betrayed him. He did not want to open himself to that feeling again.

  “I still resist you child,” he said fiercely, yet without truly feeling the emotion he let on.

  “I am not a child,” Haidee whispered before leaning in and pressing her pink lips to his own.

  The count barely dared to breathe as she reached around and cupped his face between her small hands. He barely could think with those lips against his and when she pressed her tongue to the opening of his mouth, he gave in and seized her. He drew her across his body and on his lap so she straddled him, the silk of her Grecian clothing wrinkling in the process.

  He kissed her with all the passion he had acquired over long nights of agonizing on this very
topic: his feelings for the young girl. She was life compared to his death; she brought joy where he brought only sorrow. A temperance to his moody and aloof ways, she somehow made him feel alive, something he had not achieved since before his imprisonment, despite his adventures.

  They spent some time kissing each other and Haidee hung on to his coat for fear he might release her and cast her aside again. She would have him as her husband if she could only convince him that he was so much more to her than a benefactor or a protector. He was her life, and ever since he saved her, she loved him.

  His manhood grew and she could feel it through the silk of her pants beneath her core. She shifted her weight to drag that clothed part of her across its length and he let out a hiss, detached his mouth from hers.

  “Haidee, you know not what you begin.”

  She smiled and delved her hand into the hair at the base of his neck, “I do know, my lord, and I intend to see it through,”

  “You are a witch sent to ensnare my senses and turn me into a slave!”

  “No my love, I am simply a woman in love.”

  She shifted again and again as he hissed out a breathe against her wet mouth.