The Meeting.
After Mercedes had left Monte Cristo, he fell into profound gloom.Around him and within him the flight of thought seemed to have stopped; his energetic mind slumbered, as the body does after extreme fatigue."What?" said he to himself, while the lamp and the wax lights were nearly burnt out, and the servants were waiting impatiently in the anteroom;"what? this edifice which I have been so long preparing, which I have reared with so much care and toil, is to be crushed by a single touch, a word, a breath! Yes, this self, of whom I thought so much, of whom I was so proud, who had appeared so worthless in the dungeons of the Chateau d'If, and whom I had succeeded in ****** so great, will be but a lump of clay to-morrow.Alas, it is not the death of the body I regret; for is not the destruction of the vital principle, the repose to which everything is tending, to which every unhappy being aspires, -- is not this the repose of matter after which I so long sighed, and which I was seeking to attain by the painful process of starvation when Faria appeared in my dungeon? What is death for me? One step farther into rest, -- two, perhaps, into silence.
"No, it is not existence, then, that I regret, but the ruin of projects so slowly carried out, so laboriously framed.
Providence is now opposed to them, when I most thought it would be propitious.It is not God's will that they should be accomplished.This burden, almost as heavy as a world, which I had raised, and I had thought to bear to the end, was too great for my strength, and I was compelled to lay it down in the middle of my career.Oh, shall I then, again become a fatalist, whom fourteen years of despair and ten of hope had rendered a believer in providence? And all this --all this, because my heart, which I thought dead, was only sleeping; because it has awakened and has begun to beat again, because I have yielded to the pain of the emotion excited in my breast by a woman's voice.Yet," continued the count, becoming each moment more absorbed in the anticipation of the dreadful sacrifice for the morrow, which Mercedes had accepted, "yet, it is impossible that so noble-minded a woman should thus through selfishness consent to my death when I am in the prime of life and strength; it is impossible that she can carry to such a point maternal love, or rather delirium.There are virtues which become crimes by exaggeration.No, she must have conceived some pathetic scene; she will come and throw herself between us;and what would be sublime here will there appear ridiculous." The blush of pride mounted to the count's forehead as this thought passed through his mind.
"Ridiculous?" repeated he; "and the ridicule will fall on me.I ridiculous? No, I would rather die."By thus exaggerating to his own mind the anticipated ill-fortune of the next day, to which he had condemned himself by promising Mercedes to spare her son, the count at last exclaimed, "Folly, folly, folly! -- to carry generosity so far as to put myself up as a mark for that young man to aim at.He will never believe that my death was suicide; and yet it is important for the honor of my memory, -- and this surely is not vanity, but a justifiable pride, -- it is important the world should know that I have consented, by my free will, to stop my arm, already raised to strike, and that with the arm which has been so powerful against others I have struck myself.It must be; it shall be."Seizing a pen, he drew a paper from a secret drawer in his desk, and wrote at the bottom of the document (which was no other than his will, made since his arrival in Paris) a sort of codicil, clearly explaining the nature of his death."Ido this, O my God," said he, with his eyes raised to heaven, "as much for thy honor as for mine.I have during ten years considered myself the agent of thy vengeance, and other wretches, like Morcerf, Danglars, Villefort, even Morcerf himself, must not imagine that chance has freed them from their enemy.Let them know, on the contrary, that their punishment, which had been decreed by providence, is only delayed by my present determination, and although they escape it in this world, it awaits them in another, and that they are only exchanging time for eternity."While he was thus agitated by gloomy uncertainties, --wretched waking dreams of grief, -- the first rays of morning pierced his windows, and shone upon the pale blue paper on which he had just inscribed his justification of providence.It was just five o'clock in the morning when a slight noise like a stifled sigh reached his ear.He turned his head, looked around him, and saw no one; but the sound was repeated distinctly enough to convince him of its reality.
