Morcerf, like most rich people, had his own orchestra stall, plus ten people whom he knew, in whose boxes he could request a seat, without counting his place in the lions' box. Château-Renaud's stall seat was next to Morcerf's. Beauchamp, being a journalist, was king of the theatre and could sit where he wished.
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That evening, Lucien Debray had the minister's box at his disposal and had offered it to the Comte de Morcerf who, on Mercédès' refusal, had sent it to Danglars with a message that he would probably go and visit the baroness and her daughter in the course of the evening, if those ladies would like to accept the box that he offered them. Those ladies were sure not to refuse. No one likes a free box as much as a millionaire.
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The excuse of the opera had been all the more appropriate since there was that evening a formal soirée at the Royal Academy of Music. Levasseur had long been indisposed but was returning in the role of Bertram and, as ever, the work of the fashionable maestro had attracted the cream of Parisian society.
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As for Danglars, he had declared that his political principles and his position as a député for the opposition would not permit him to go into the minister's box. As a result, the baroness wrote to Lucien to take her, since she could not go to the opera alone with Eugénie.
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"Look!" Albert suddenly exclaimed, seeing the door open in a side box in the dress circle. "Look! Countess G --."
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True, if the two women had gone alone, people would surely have considered this very bad behaviour; while no one could object to Mlle Danglars going to the opera with her mother and her mother's lover. One must take the world as it is.
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The curtain went up, as usual, on an almost empty house. It is fashionable among Parisians to arrive at the theatre when the show has begun, with the result that the first act is spent, by those members of the audience who have arrived, not in watching or listening to the play, but in watching the entry of those spectators who are arriving, so that nothing can be heard except the sound of doors banging and voices in conversation.
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"Today?"
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"Yes."
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"What was that?"
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"But there were three races?"
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"Of course."
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"Nautilus. I was betting on him."
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"Do you know her?" asked Château-Renaud.
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"Well, now. I'd forgotten about the races. Were you in for anything?"
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"Come, now, Baron! You can't be forgiven for asking that. Who is Countess G --!"
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"Who won?"
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"Exactly."
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"Be quiet!" shouted the audience.
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"Oh, that's right," said Château-Renaud. "Isn't it that charming Venetian woman?"
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"Who or what is Countess G --?" Château-Renaud asked.
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"Yes. Franz introduced me to her when we were in Rome."
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"A mere trifle. Fifty louis."
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The two young men continued their conversation, not appearing to take the slightest notice of the fact that the stalls seemed to want to listen to the music.
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"Hush!" cried the audience.
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"Could you do the same for me in Paris?"
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"Yes: the Prix du Jockey-Club, a gold cup… Something quite odd happened."
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At that moment, Countess G -- noticed Albert and greeted him with a wave and a smile.
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"She was at the races in the Champ-de-Mars," said Château-Renaud.
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"No."
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"Silence!" the stalls yelled.
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"Vampa."
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"What was that?" Albert repeated.
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"Yes, egad! No one took any notice of a horse entered under the name of Vampa and a jockey entered under the name of 'Job', when suddenly a superb chestnut appeared, with a jockey the size of your fist. They had to give him a handicap of twenty pounds of lead in his saddle, and it still didn't stop him getting to the post three lengths ahead of Ariel and Barbaro, who were running against him."
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"And no one knew whom the horse and jockey belonged to?"
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"The winners of that race were an entirely unknown horse and jockey."
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"In that case," Albert said, "I'm a step ahead of you, because I do know the owner."
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"What?"
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This time the outcry was so great that the two young men finally realized that they were the object of the audience's appeals. They turned around for a moment, looking for a man in the crowd who would take responsibility for what they regarded as an impertinence, but no one repeated the invitation, so they turned back towards the stage.
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"You say the horse was entered in the name of…"
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At that moment the door to the minister's box opened and Mme Danglars, her daughter and Lucien Debray took their seats.
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"Ah, ha!" said Château-Renaud. "There are some people you know, Viscount. Why on earth are you staring to the right; someone is trying to catch your eye."
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"In truth, my dear friend," said Château-Renaud, "I do not understand, apart from the misalliance -- and I don't suppose that bothers you very much… As I say, I cannot understand, apart from the misalliance, what you can have against Mademoiselle Danglars. She really is a very fine-looking creature."
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Albert turned and his eyes did meet those of Baroness Danglars, who gave a little greeting with her fan. As for Mlle Eugénie, her large black eyes would scarcely deign to look down to the stalls.
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"Very fine, indeed," said Albert, "but I must confess that, as far as beauty is concerned, I should prefer something softer, smoother and, in short, more feminine."
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"That's the younger generation for you," said Château-Renaud who, as a man of thirty, took on a paternal air with Morcerf. "Never satisfied. What, my dear fellow! They find you a fiancée built like Diana the Huntress, and you are not happy!"
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"Precisely. I should have preferred something like the Venus de Milo or the Venus of Capua. This Diana the Huntress, always surrounded by her nymphs, frightens me a little. I'm afraid she might treat me like Actaeon."
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A glance at the girl might have gone some way to justify the feelings to which Morcerf had just admitted. Mlle Danglars was beautiful but, as Albert said, her beauty was somewhat strict: her hair was a lustrous black, but there was a certain rebelliousness in its natural wave. Her eyes, as black as her hair, were framed in magnificent eyebrows that had only one defect, which was that from time to time they were quizzically raised, and the eyes were exceptional above all for their determined expression, which it was surprising to find in a woman. Her nose had the precise proportions that a sculptor would have given to Juno; only her mouth was a little too large, but it exhibited fine teeth which highlighted the excessive redness of lips that did not harmonize with the pallor of the complexion. Finally, a beauty-spot at the corner of the mouth, larger than is usual with these freaks of nature, completed the look of resolution in the face that somewhat dismayed Morcerf.
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The possibility that Mlle Louise d'Armilly (this was the name of the talented young person) might one day appear on the stage meant that Mlle Danglars, although she received her at home, did not appear with her in public. Despite this, while she did not have the independent position of a friend in the banker's house, Louise did enjoy a higher status than that of an ordinary governess.
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As for her upbringing, if there was anything to be said against it, it was that, like some traits of her physiognomy, it seemed more appropriate to the other sex. She spoke two or three languages, had an innate talent for drawing, wrote verse and composed music; this last was her great passion, which she studied with one of her school-friends, a young woman with no expectations but (one was assured) with everything needed to become an outstanding singer. It was said that a great composer took an almost paternal interest in this girl and encouraged her to work in the hope of eventually finding a fortune in her voice.
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For that matter, the rest of Eugénie's person was of a piece with the head that we have just attempted to describe. As Château-Renaud said, she was Diana the Huntress, but with something even firmer and more muscular in her beauty.
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"Ah, traveller! There you are!" she said, offering him her hand with all the cordiality of an old acquaintanceship. "It is most kind of you to have recognized me and, more especially, to have given me preference for your first visit."
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A few seconds after Mme Danglars entered her box, the curtain came down and, because the length of the intervals allowed the opportunity to walk around the foyer or to pay visits for some half an hour, the stalls were more or less emptied.
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Morcerf and Château-Renaud were among the first to go out. For a moment Mme Danglars thought that Albert's haste was owing to his desire to pay her his compliments, and she had leant over to her daughter to warn her of this visit, but the girl was content to shake her head, with a smile. At the same time, as if to prove how well founded Eugénie's denial was, Morcerf appeared in a side box in the dress circle. This box belonged to Countess G --.
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"Believe me, Madame," Albert replied, "had I been informed of your arrival in Paris and known your address, I should not have waited so long. But permit me to introduce Monsieur le Baron de Château-Renaud, my friend and one of the few gentlemen left in France, who has just told me that you were at the races on the Champ-de-Mars."
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"Do you insist, Countess?" asked Albert.
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"Madame, you were about to begin a story. 'I must tell you…', you said."
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"Yes, Madame."
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"You were at the races then, Monsieur?" the countess enquired, examining him with interest.
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"Absolutely. I must tell you… But would you happen to know, Viscount?"
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"I regret not, Madame," said Château-Renaud. "I was just asking Albert the same question."
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Château-Renaud bowed.
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"On what?"
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"On knowing the owner of the horse?"
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"Very well," she asked. "Can you tell me whose was the horse that won the Prix du Jockey-Club?"
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"Well, I must tell you that that charming chestnut horse and the pretty little jockey in his pink cap appealed to me so much from the first moment I saw them that I was making a wish for them both, just as though I had bet half my fortune on them. So, when I saw them pass the post three lengths ahead of the other runners, I was so happy that I started to clap my hands like a madwoman. Imagine my astonishment when, on arriving home, I met the little pink jockey on the staircase! I thought that the winner of the race must chance to live in the same house as I, when, on opening the door of my drawing-room, the first thing I saw was the gold cup, the prize won by the unknown horse and jockey. Inside it was a little scrap of paper with the following words: 'To Countess G --, Lord Ruthwen'."
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"Ours, the vampire, the one from the Teatro Argentina."
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"Really!" the countess exclaimed. "Is he here?"
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"I mean, it was Lord Ruthwen himself."
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"And you see him? You receive him? You visit him?"
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"I can't swear it… And, in fact, this idea of giving you the cup under the name of Lord Ruthwen…"
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"What Lord Ruthwen?"
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"From whose hands the count miraculously saved me?"
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"But why did he send me the cup?"
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"Of course!"
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"What do you mean, 'precisely'?"
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"Precisely!" said Morcerf.
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"What makes you think that he was the winner?"
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"Indeed…"
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"Don't you remember the name of the famous bandit who took me prisoner?"
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"So?"
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"First of all, Countess, because I often mentioned you to him, as you may well imagine. Then, because he was delighted at finding a compatriot and pleased by the interest that this compatriot took in him."
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"We are close friends; even Monsieur de Château-Renaud here has the honour of knowing him."
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"Indeed he is."
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"His name was Vampa. So, you see, it must be him."
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"I hope you never told him of the silly things we used to say about him!"
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"His horse ran under the name Vampa."
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"No, admittedly…"
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"This is terrible! He will be fearfully angry with me."
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"Is he behaving as if he was?"
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"Well, then!"
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"So, you're telling me he's in Paris?"
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"My dear fellow," said Château-Renaud, "one can see that the count is your friend and you treat him accordingly. Don't believe what Albert is saying, Countess, because the truth is that no one in Paris is talking about anything except the Count of Monte Cristo. The first thing he did was to send Madame Danglars some horses worth thirty thousand francs. Then he saved Madame de Villefort's life, and now it appears he has won the Jockey-Club race. Despite what Morcerf says, I maintain that people are still talking about the count at the moment and that they will talk about him even more a month from now, if he carries on behaving in this eccentric manner -- which appears, in the event, to be his normal way of carrying on."
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"Yes."
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"And what sort of a stir has he caused?"
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"Oh," said Albert, "they did talk about him for a week. Then there was the coronation of the Queen of England and the theft of Mademoiselle Mars' diamonds, and no one talked about anything else."
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"In the intervals, if you permit, I may come and find out if I can be of some use to you while you are in Paris."
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At that moment the bell rang to announce that the second act was about to begin. Albert got up to return to his place.
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"In that box?"
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"No," said the countess. "I didn't see anyone." Then, returning to the original subject of the conversation: "You think that your Count of Monte Cristo won the prize?"
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"But I don't know him," said the countess. "I'm quite tempted to send it back."
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"Which?" the countess asked.
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"Maybe," said Morcerf. "Meanwhile, who has taken up the Russian ambassador's box?"
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"Where?"
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"And sent me the cup?"
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"So it does," said Château-Renaud. "Was there someone there in the first act?"
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"Shall I see you?" the countess asked.
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"No doubt about it."
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"Oh, don't do that! He would send you another, carved out of sapphire or rubies. He does those things. One must take him as he is."
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"The one between the columns, in the first tier. It looks as though it has been entirely done up."
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"I'm certain of it."
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As they came back into the theatre, they saw everyone standing in the stalls, all eyes turned towards a single point in the room. They turned their own eyes in the same direction and stopped at what had once been the Russian ambassador's box. A man in black, aged between thirty-five and forty, had just entered with a woman in oriental dress. The woman was strikingly beautiful and her costume so ornate that, as we said, all eyes were immediately fixed on her.
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"Well, well!" said Albert. "It's Monte Cristo and his Greek!"
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"Gentlemen," the countess said, "I am at home to my friends every Saturday evening at number twenty-two, Rue de Rivoli. So now you know." The two young men bowed and went out.
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It was indeed the count and Haydée. A moment later the young woman was the object of attention not only from the stalls but throughout the theatre. Women were leaning out of their boxes to see the cascade of diamonds shining in the light of the chandeliers.
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The second act was played against that dull murmuring which is the response of a large crowd to some great event. No one thought of shouting: "Silence!" The woman, so young, so beautiful and so dazzling, was the most interesting spectacle to be had.
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"My good fellow," said Debray, "you see before you a man at the end of his tether, begging you to assist him. Madame has been deluging me with questions about the count: what he is, where he comes from, where he is going… Dammit, I'm not Cagliostro! So, to get out of it, I said: 'Ask Morcerf, he knows his Monte Cristo like the back of his hand.' That's why we called you."
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This time, a sign from Baroness Danglars clearly indicated to Albert that she wished him to call on her in the next interval. Morcerf was too well bred to keep someone waiting when they had shown that they wanted to speak to him, so, when the act ended, he hurried up to the box in the front of the house. There he greeted the two ladies and held out his hand to Debray. The baroness welcomed him with a charming smile and Eugénie with her habitual icy indifference.
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"Isn't it incredible," said the baroness, "that someone with half a million in secret funds at his disposal can be so ill-informed?"
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"Madame," Lucien said, "please believe me when I tell you that, if I had half a million at my disposal, I should use it for some other purpose than making enquiries about Monsieur de Monte Cristo, who has no merit as far as I can see apart from being twice as rich as a nabob. But I am handing over to my friend Morcerf. Settle it with him, it's no longer my business."
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"Ah, diamonds!" Morcerf said, laughing. "He has a passion for them. I think that, like Potemkin, he always has some in his pocket and spreads them along his path as Tom Thumb did with his pebbles."
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"I didn't know," Albert replied. "But it doesn't surprise me."
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"He must have found a diamond mine," said Mme Danglars. "Do you know that he has unlimited credit with the baron's bank?"
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"A nabob would certainly not have sent me a pair of horses worth thirty thousand francs, with four diamonds at their ears, each worth five thousand francs."
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"And that he told Monsieur Danglars that he meant to stay a year in Paris and spend six millions? He must be the Shah of Persia travelling incognito."
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"Really, Mademoiselle, you are the only woman I know who is so generous in speaking about others of your own sex."
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"The woman, Monsieur Lucien," said Eugénie; "have you noticed how beautiful she is?"
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Lucien put his eye-glass to his eye. "Delightful!" he said. "Does Monsieur Morcerf know who she is?"
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"Mademoiselle," Albert said, in reply to this almost direct question, "I do know, more or less, as I more or less know everything relating to this mysterious personage. The young woman is Greek."
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"The woman is a slave, as he told us himself. Do you remember, Morcerf, at your breakfast?"
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"I much regret," said Morcerf, "that I am such an ignorant guide, but I have to admit that my information goes no further than that -- though I do also know that she is a musician, because one day, when I was lunching with the count, I heard the sound of a guzla which only she could have been playing."
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"What! You would visit him?" Debray said, laughing.
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"So he gives lunch, does he, your count?" asked Mme Danglars.
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"I must urge Danglars to offer him a dinner or a ball; then he will invite us back."
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"You must admit, Lucien," said the baroness, "that she looks more like a princess."
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"Why not? With my husband."
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"Not at all, as you can plainly see," the baroness said, laughing in her turn and indicating the beautiful Greek.
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"Magnificently, believe me."
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"But he is a bachelor, this mysterious count."
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"It is easy to see that by her dress, so you're telling me nothing that all the rest of the theatre doesn't already know."
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"In that side box," Eugénie said. "Look, mother, almost opposite us: she's that woman with the magnificent blonde hair."
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"So what do you think of the count?" said Debray. "He strikes me as not too bad himself."
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"Precisely," said Morcerf. "The secret we are looking for lies in that pallor. You know, Countess G -- claims he is a vampire."
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"I love everything beautiful," said Eugénie.
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"Agreed: from the Thousand and One Nights. But what makes a princess, my dear? Diamonds, and she's covered in them."
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"The count?" said Eugénie, as if she had not previously considered looking at him. "He's very pale, your count."
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"From the Thousand and One Nights."
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"There speaks the artist!" said Mme Danglars. "See what an enthusiast she is!"
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"Too much so, in fact," said Eugénie. "She would be more beautiful without them, because you could see her neck and her wrists, which are delightfully shapely."
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"Oh, yes," said Mme Danglars. "Morcerf, do you know what you should do?"
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"Countess G --? Is she back, then?" asked the baroness.
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"Why?" asked Eugénie.
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"I am going."
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"I am at your command, Madame."
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"Yes, but you claim she is a princess… No, I hope that when he sees me go out, he will do the same."
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"Perhaps. Off you go then."
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"To whom?"
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"Very well, then," said Morcerf. "It's up to me. I must leave you while I go and see if there is not some way of talking to him."
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The baroness returned the count's greeting, together with a charming smile.
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"But I haven't been introduced."
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"You should go and visit your Count of Monte Cristo and bring him back here."
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"Simple: go into his box."
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"Look!" said Morcerf. "He'll probably come of his own accord. He's seen you, Madame, and is bowing to you."
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"Peculiar child!" the baroness muttered.
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"So that we can talk to him. Aren't you curious to see him?"
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"To the beautiful Greek."
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"Not at all."
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Morcerf bowed and left. As predicted, when he walked past the count's box, the door opened. The count said a few words in Arabic to Ali, who stood in the corridor, and took Morcerf's arm.
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"Didn't you say she was a slave?"
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Ali shut the door and stood in front of it. People gathered around the Nubian in the corridor.
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"That is because your Orientals are sensible folk who only look at something when it is worth looking at. But I can assure you that Ali is enjoying this popularity for no reason except that he belongs to you, because you are the man à la mode just now."
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"To yourself -- what else? You give away horseflesh to the value of a thousand louis, you save the life of the king's prosecutor, you dub yourself Major Brack to race thoroughbreds ridden by jockeys no bigger than marmosets and, finally, you win gold cups and send them to beautiful women."
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"Really? To what do I owe that distinction?"
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"Really," Monte Cristo said, "Paris is an odd city and you Parisians an odd people. Anyone would think that this was the first time they had seen a Nubian. Look at them crowding round poor Ali, who doesn't know what to make of it. I guarantee one thing, however, which is that a Parisian could go to Tunis, Constantinople, Baghdad or Cairo, and no crowd would gather around him."
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"What music?"
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"Where?"
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"Yes."
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"Why, the first comes from Madame Danglars, who is dying to see you in her box -- or, rather, for people to see you there; the second I had from Beauchamp's newspaper; and the third I worked out for myself. Why do you call your horse Vampa, if you wish to remain incognito?"
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"True, true!" said the count. "That was unwise of me. But tell me, does the Comte de Morcerf never come to the opera? I looked around for him but could not find him anywhere."
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"In the baroness's box, I think."
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Morcerf smiled. "We must speak of that later, and at length," he said. "How do you find the music?"
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"And the enchanting young lady with her is her daughter?"
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"My dear Count, you speak as though you could, at will, call up the seven choirs of paradise."
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"He will be here this evening."
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"I compliment you."
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"I think it's very good for music composed by a human composer and sung by birds with two feet and no feathers, as the late Diogenes remarked."
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"The music you have just heard."
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"Who the devil told you of all these follies?"
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"Yes."
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"Ah, the famous hashish?"
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"Well, this is the perfect place. Sleep away, my dear Count, sleep away. The Opera was designed for no other purpose."
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"In Rome?"
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"Tell her that I should be honoured, if she would allow me to present my compliments to her in the course of the evening."
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"Precisely. Viscount, when you want to hear some music, come and take supper with me."
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"But I have already heard it at lunch," said Morcerf.
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"No, I can't: your orchestra is making too much noise. For me to enjoy the kind of sleep I mean, I need calm and silence; and a particular kind of preparation…"
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"Of course! That was Haydée's guzla. The poor exile sometimes amuses herself by playing me some of her native airs."
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Morcerf did not press the matter, and the count, for his part, fell silent. At that moment the bell rang.
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"And the baroness?"
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"What?"
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"My best wishes to Countess G -- from her vampire."
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"That's more or less the case. When I want to listen to fine music, Vicomte, music such as mortal ear has never heard, I sleep."
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"Will you excuse me?" said the count, going back towards his box.
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The third act began. During it, the Comte de Morcerf came, as he had promised, to join Mme Danglars. Morcerf was not one of those people who cause a commotion in the auditorium, so no one noticed his arrival except the others in the box where he took his seat. However, Monte Cristo saw him, and a hint of a smile hovered on his lips. As for Haydée, she saw nothing from the moment when the curtain rose. Like all primitive natures, she adored everything that appealed to her eyes and her ears.
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The third act followed its usual course. Mlles Noblet, Julia and Leroux executed their accustomed entrechats; the Prince of Grenada was challenged by Robert-Mario; and finally the magnificent king (already familiar to you) strode round the theatre showing off his velvet cloak and leading his daughter by the hand. Then the curtain fell, and the audience immediately repaired to the foyer and the corridors.
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The count came out of his box and a moment later appeared in that of Baroness Danglars. The baroness could not restrain a cry of surprise, in which there was a hint of joy.
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"Oh, Madame," said the count, "do you still remember that trifle? I had forgotten it."
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"Come in, Count, come in!" she exclaimed. "I have been anxious to add my verbal thanks to those I had already conveyed to you in writing."
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"Perhaps, but what cannot be forgotten, Monsieur le Comte, is that the very next day you saved my good friend Madame de Villefort from the danger she was in with those same horses."
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"No, Count," said Monte Cristo, shaking the hand that the general offered him. "No, this time I will take the thanks for myself. But you had already offered them, I had received them and, in truth, I am embarrassed to find you still so grateful. Please do me the honour, Madame la Baronne, of introducing me to your daughter."
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"Once again, Madame, I do not deserve your thanks. It was my Nubian servant, Ali, who was fortunate enough to be able to perform this service for Madame de Villefort."
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"Was it also Ali," asked the Comte de Morcerf, "who rescued my son from the Roman bandits?"
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"You are already introduced, at least in name, for we have spoken of nothing except you over the past two or three days. Eugénie," the baroness went on, turning to her daughter, "the Count of Monte Cristo!"
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"Ah!" said Monte Cristo. "You served in Janina, Count?"
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"No, Mademoiselle," Monte Cristo replied, astonished at what was either great naïvety or amazing insolence. "She is a poor Greek; I am her guardian."
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"A Greek!" the Comte de Morcerf muttered.
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At that moment Haydée, who had been looking around for the count, saw his pale features beside those of M. de Morcerf, whom he was clasping. The sight produced the same effect as a Medusa on the girl. She started forward as if to devour both of them with her eyes, then, almost immediately, leapt back with a weak cry -- which was, however, heard by those closest to her and by Ali, who at once opened the door.
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"Yes, Count," said Mme Danglars. "But tell me if you have ever seen in the court of Ali Tebelin, at which you served with such distinction, as admirable a costume as that."
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"Look at that!" Mme Danglars urged.
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The count bowed and Mlle Danglars gave a slight nod of the head. "You are accompanied by a splendid young woman, Monsieur le Comte," said Eugénie. "Is she your daughter?"
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"Haydée," Monte Cristo replied.
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"I was inspector-general to the pasha's troops," Morcerf replied. "I do not disguise the fact that I owe my fortune, such as it is, to the generosity of the illustrious Albanian leader."
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"And her name?"
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"At what?" muttered Morcerf.
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"Well, well!" said Monte Cristo, wrapping his arm round the count and leaning out of the box.
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"Yes, she does," said the count. "But don't worry. Haydée is very nervous and consequently very sensitive to smells. A perfume that she does not like is enough to make her faint. However," he added, taking a medicine bottle out of his pocket, "I have the remedy here." Then he saluted the baroness and her daughter with a single bow, shook hands one final time with Morcerf and Debray, and left Mme Danglars' box. When he reached his own, Haydée was still very pale. No sooner did he appear than she grasped his hand and said: "To whom were you talking, my Lord?"
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"Well, I never!" said Eugénie. "What has just happened to your ward, Monsieur le Comte? She seems to be feeling ill."
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"The Comte de Morcerf," Monte Cristo replied, "who served under your illustrious father and admits owing him his fortune."
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"The miserable wretch!" Haydée cried. "He it was who sold him to the Turks and the fortune was the price of his treachery. My dear master, did you not know that?"
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"I did hear some talk of this story in Epirus," said Monte Cristo, "but I am not familiar with the details. Come, child, you will tell me. It must be a curious tale."
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"Oh, yes, come with me, and I shall. I think I shall die if I stay any longer facing that man." Haydée leapt to her feet, wrapped herself in her white cashmere burnous embroidered with pearls and corals, and ran out just as the curtain was rising.
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"Look at that man: he does nothing like anyone else!" Countess G -- told Albert, who had gone back to her box. "He sits religiously all the way through the third act of Robert le Diable, then leaves just as the fourth act is about to begin."
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