“If it were not ridiculous to make a display of our triumph, I would invite the count to our house; besides that, he doubtless has some trembling heart to comfort. So we will take leave of our friend, and let him hasten home.”
“Stop a moment,” said Monte Cristo; “do not let me lose both my companions. Return, Emmanuel, to your charming wife, and present my best compliments to her; and do you, Morrel, accompany me to the Champs Elysees.”
“Willingly,” said Maximilian; “particularly as I have business in that quarter.”
“Shall we wait breakfast for you?” asked Emmanuel.
“No,” replied the young man. The door was closed, and the carriage proceeded. “See what good fortune I brought you!” said Morrel, when he was alone with the count. “Have you not thought so?”
“Yes,” said Monte Cristo; “for that reason I wished to keep you near me.”
“It is miraculous!” continued Morrel, answering his own thoughts.
“What?” said Monte Cristo.
“What has just happened.”
“Yes,” said the Count, “you are right — it is miraculous.”
“For Albert is brave,” resumed Morrel.
“Very brave,” said Monte Cristo; “I have seen him sleep with a sword suspended over his head.”
“And I know he has fought two duels,” said Morrel. “How can you reconcile that with his conduct this morning?”
“All owing to your influence,” replied Monte Cristo, smiling.
“It is well for Albert he is not in the army,” said Morrel.
“Why?”
“An apology on the ground!” said the young captain, shaking his head.
“Come,” said the count mildly, “do not entertain the prejudices of ordinary men, Morrel! Acknowledge, that if Albert is brave, he cannot be a coward; he must then have had some reason for acting as he did this morning, and confess that his conduct is more heroic than otherwise.”
“Doubtless, doubtless,” said Morrel; “but I shall say, like the Spaniard, ‘He has not been so brave to-day as he was yesterday.’”
“You will breakfast with me, will you not, Morrel?” said the count, to turn the conversation.
“No; I must leave you at ten o’clock.”
“Your engagement was for breakfast, then?” said the count.
Morrel smiled, and shook his head. “Still you must breakfast somewhere.”
“But if I am not hungry?” said the young man.
“Oh,” said the count, “I only know two things which destroy the appetite, — grief — and as I am happy to see you very cheerful, it is not that — and love. Now after what you told me this morning of your heart, I may believe” —
“Well, count,” replied Morrel gayly, “I will not dispute it.”
“But you will not make me your confidant, Maximilian?” said the count, in a tone which showed how gladly he would have been admitted to the secret.
“I showed you this morning that I had a heart, did I not, count?” Monte Cristo only answered by extending his hand to the young man. “Well,” continued the latter, “since that heart is no longer with you in the Bois de Vincennes, it is elsewhere, and I must go and find it.”
“Go,” said the count deliberately; “go, dear friend, but promise me if you meet with any obstacle to remember that I have some power in this world, that I am happy to use that power in the behalf of those I love, and that I love you, Morrel.”
“I will remember it,” said the young man, “as selfish children recollect their parents when they want their aid. When I need your assistance, and the moment arrives, I will come to you, count.”
“Well, I rely upon your promise. Good-by, then.”
“Good-by, till we meet again.” They had arrived in the Champs Elysees. Monte Cristo opened the carriage-door, Morrel sprang out on the pavement, Bertuccio was waiting on the steps. Morrel disappeared down the Avenue de Marigny, and Monte Cristo hastened to join Bertuccio.
“Well?” asked he.
“She is going to leave her house,” said the steward.
“And her son?”
“Florentin, his valet, thinks he is going to do the same.”
“Come this way.” Monte Cristo took Bertuccio into his study, wrote the letter we have seen, and gave it to the steward. “Go,” said he quickly. “But first, let Haidee be informed that I have returned.”