It is not a man, then, but some angel that leaves us, and this angel is on the point of returning to heaven after having appeared on earth to do good.""Say not so," quickly returned Monte Cristo -- "say not so, my friends; angels never err, celestial beings remain where they wish to be.Fate is not more powerful than they; it is they who, on the contrary, overcome fate.No, Emmanuel, I am but a man, and your admiration is as unmerited as your words are sacrilegious." And pressing his lips on the hand of Julie, who rushed into his arms, he extended his other hand to Emmanuel; then tearing himself from this abode of peace and happiness, he made a sign to Maximilian, who followed him passively, with the indifference which had been perceptible in him ever since the death of Valentine had so stunned him."Restore my brother to peace and happiness,"whispered Julie to Monte Cristo.And the count pressed her hand in reply, as he had done eleven years before on the staircase leading to Morrel's study.
"You still confide, then, in Sinbad the Sailor?" asked he, smiling.
"Oh, yes," was the ready answer.
"Well, then, sleep in peace, and put your trust in heaven."As we have before said, the postchaise was waiting; four powerful horses were already pawing the ground with impatience, while Ali, apparently just arrived from a long walk, was standing at the foot of the steps, his face bathed in perspiration."Well," asked the count in Arabic, "have you been to see the old man?" Ali made a sign in the affirmative.
"And have you placed the letter before him, as I ordered you to do?"The slave respectfully signalized that he had."And what did he say, or rather do?" Ali placed himself in the light, so that his master might see him distinctly, and then imitating in his intelligent manner the countenance of the old man, he closed his eyes, as Noirtier was in the custom of doing when saying "Yes.""Good; he accepts," said Monte Cristo."Now let us go."These words had scarcely escaped him, when the carriage was on its way, and the feet of the horses struck a shower of sparks from the pavement.Maximilian settled himself in his corner without uttering a word.Half an hour had passed when the carriage stopped suddenly; the count had just pulled the silken check-string, which was fastened to Ali's finger.The Nubian immediately descended and opened the carriage door.
It was a lovely starlight night -- they had just reached the top of the hill Villejuif, from whence Paris appears like a sombre sea tossing its millions of phosphoric waves into light -- waves indeed more noisy, more passionate, more changeable, more furious, more greedy, than those of the tempestuous ocean, -- waves which never rest as those of the sea sometimes do, -- waves ever dashing, ever foaming, ever ingulfing what falls within their grasp.The count stood alone, and at a sign from his hand, the carriage went on for a short distance.With folded arms, he gazed for some time upon the great city.When he had fixed his piercing look on this modern Babylon, which equally engages the contemplation of the religious enthusiast, the materialist, and the scoffer, -- "Great city," murmured he, inclining his head, and joining his hands as if in prayer, "less than six months have elapsed since first I entered thy gates.I believe that the Spirit of God led my steps to thee and that he also enables me to quit thee in triumph; the secret cause of my presence within thy walls I have confided alone to him who only has had the power to read my heart.God only knows that I retire from thee without pride or hatred, but not without many regrets; he only knows that the power confided to me has never been made subservient to my personal good or to any useless cause.Oh, great city, it is in thy palpitating bosom that I have found that which I sought; like a patient miner, I have dug deep into thy very entrails to root out evil thence.Now my work is accomplished, my mission is terminated, now thou canst neither afford me pain nor pleasure.Adieu, Paris, adieu!"His look wandered over the vast plain like that of some genius of the night; he passed his hand over his brow, got into the carriage, the door was closed on him, and the vehicle quickly disappeared down the other side of the hill in a whirlwind of noise and dust.
Ten leagues were passed and not a single word was uttered.
Morrel was dreaming, and Monte Cristo was looking at the dreamer.
"Morrel," said the count to him at length, "do you repent having followed me?""No, count; but to leave Paris" --
"If I thought happiness might await you in Paris, Morrel, Iwould have left you there."
"Valentine reposes within the walls of Paris, and to leave Paris is like losing her a second time.""Maximilian," said the count, "the friends that we have lost do not repose in the bosom of the earth, but are buried deep in our hearts, and it has been thus ordained that we may always be accompanied by them.I have two friends, who in this way never depart from me; the one who gave me being, and the other who conferred knowledge and intelligence on me.Their spirits live in me.I consult them when doubtful, and if I ever do any good, it is due to their beneficent counsels.Listen to the voice of your heart, Morrel, and ask it whether you ought to preserve this melancholy exterior towards me.""My friend," said Maximilian, "the voice of my heart is very sorrowful, and promises me nothing but misfortune.""It is the way of weakened minds to see everything through a black cloud.The soul forms its own horizons; your soul is darkened, and consequently the sky of the future appears stormy and unpromising.""That may possibly be true," said Maximilian, and he again subsided into his thoughtful mood.
