MEANWHILE Monte Cristo had also returned to town with Emmanuel and Maximilian. Their return was cheerful. Emmanuel did not conceal his joy at the peaceful termination of the affair, and was loud in his expressions of delight. Morrel, in a corner of the carriage, allowed his brother-in-law's gayety to expend itself in words, while he felt equal inward joy, which, however, betrayed itself only in his countenance. At the Barrière du Tr?ne they met Bertuccio, who was waiting there, motionless as a sentinel at his post. Monte Cristo put his head out of the window, exchanged a few words with him in a low tone, and the steward disappeared. "Count," said Emmanuel, when they were at the end of the Place Royale, "put me down at my door, that my wife may not have a single moment of needless anxiety on my account or yours."
"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 Elysées."
"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 Elysées. 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 Haidée be informed that I have returned."
"Here I am," said the young girl, who at the sound of the carriage had run down-stairs and whose face was radiant with joy at seeing the count return safely. Bertuccio left. Every transport of a daughter finding a father, all the delight of a mistress seeing an adored lover, were felt by Haidée during the first moments of this meeting, which she had so eagerly expected. Doubtless, although less evident, Monte Cristo's joy was not less intense. Joy to hearts which have suffered long is like the dew on the ground after a long drought; both the heart and the ground absorb that benificent moisture falling on them, and nothing is outwardly apparent.
Monte Cristo was beginning to think, what he had not for a long time dared to believe, that there were two Mercédès in the world, and he might yet be happy. His eye, elate with happiness, was reading eagerly the tearful gaze of Haidée, when suddenly the door opened. The count knit his brow. "M. de Morcerf！" said Baptistin, as if that name sufficed for his excuse. In fact, the count's face brightened.
"Which," asked he, "the viscount or the count?"
"The count."
"Oh," exclaimed Haidée, "is it not yet over?"
"I know not if it is finished, my beloved child," said Monte Cristo, taking the young girl's hands; "but I do know you have nothing more to fear."
"But it is the wretched"--
"That man cannot injure me, Haidée," said Monte Cristo; "it was his son alone that there was cause to fear."
"And what I have suffered," said the young girl, "you shall never know, my lord." Monte Cristo smiled. "By my father's tomb," said he, extending his hand over the head of the young girl, "I swear to you, Haidée, that if any misfortune happens, it will not be to me."
"I believe you, my lord, as implicitly as if God had spoken to me," said the young girl, presenting her forehead to him. Monte Cristo pressed on that pure beautiful forehead a kiss which made two hearts throb at once, the one violently, the other heavily. "Oh," murmured the count, "shall I then be permitted to love again? Ask M. de Morcerf into the drawing-room," said he to Baptistin, while he led the beautiful Greek girl to a private staircase.
We must explain this visit, which although expected by Monte Cristo, is unexpected to our readers. While Mercédès, as we have said, was making a similar inventory of her property to Albert's, while she was arranging her jewels, shutting her drawers, collecting her keys, to leave everything in perfect order, she did not perceive a pale and sinister face at a glass door which threw light into the passage, from which everything could be both seen and heard. He who was thus looking, without being heard or seen, probably heard and saw all that passed in Madame de Morcerf's apartments. From that glass door the pale-faced man went to the count's bedroom and raised with a constricted hand the curtain of a window overlooking the court-yard. He remained there ten minutes, motionless and dumb, listening to the beating of his own heart. For him those ten minutes were very long. It was then Albert, returning from his meeting with the count, perceived his father watching for his arrival behind a curtain, and turned aside. The count's eye expanded; he knew Albert had insulted the count dreadfully, and that in every country in the world such an insult would lead to a deadly duel. Albert returned safely--then the count was revenged.
An indescribable ray of joy illumined that wretched countenance like the last ray of the sun before it disappears behind the clouds which bear the aspect, not of a downy couch, but of a tomb. But as we have said, he waited in vain for his son to come to his apartment with the account of his triumph. He easily understood why his son did not come to see him before he went to avenge his father's honor; but when that was done, why did not his son come and throw himself into his arms?
It was then, when the count could not see Albert, that he sent for his servant, who he knew was authorized not to conceal anything from him. Ten minutes afterwards, General Morcerf was seen on the steps in a black coat with a military collar, black pantaloons, and black gloves. He had apparently given previous orders, for as he reached the bottom step his carriage came from the coach-house ready for him. The valet threw into the carriage his military cloak, in which two swords were wrapped, and, shutting the door, he took his seat by the side of the coachman. The coachman stooped down for his orders.
"To the Champs Elysées," said the general; "the Count of Monte Cristo's. Hurry！" The horses bounded beneath the whip; and in five minutes they stopped before the count's door. M. de Morcerf opened the door himself, and as the carriage rolled away he passed up the walk, rang, and entered the open door with his servant.
A moment afterwards, Baptistin announced the Count of Morcerf to Monte Cristo, and the latter, leading Haidée aside, ordered that Morcerf be asked into the drawing-room. The general was pacing the room the third time when, in turning, he perceived Monte Cristo at the door. "Ah, it is M. de Morcerf," said Monte Cristo quietly; "I thought I had not heard aright."
"Yes, it is I," said the count, whom a frightful contraction of the lips prevented from articulating freely.
"May I know the cause which procures me the pleasure of seeing M. de Morcerf so early?"
"Had you not a meeting with my son this morning?" asked the general.
"I had," replied the count.
"And I know my son had good reasons to wish to fight with you, and to endeavor to kill you."
"Yes, sir, he had very good ones; but you see that in spite of them he has not killed me, and did not even fight."
"Yet he considered you the cause of his father's dishonor, the cause of the fearful ruin which has fallen on my house."
"It is true, sir," said Monte Cristo with his dreadful calmness; "a secondary cause, but not the principal."
"Doubtless you made, then, some apology or explanation?"
"I explained nothing, and it is he who apologized to me."
"But to what do you attribute this conduct?"
"To the conviction, probably, that there was one more guilty than I."
"And who was that?"
"His father."
"That may be," said the count, turning pale; "but you know the guilty do not like to find themselves convicted."
"I know it, and I expected this result."
"You expected my son would be a coward?" cried the count.
"M. Albert de Morcerf is no coward！" said Monte Cristo.
"A man who holds a sword in his hand, and sees a mortal enemy within reach of that sword, and does not fight, is a coward！ Why is he not here that I may tell him so?"
"Sir." replied Monte Cristo coldly, "I did not expect that you had come here to relate to me your little family affairs. Go and tell M. Albert that, and he may know what to answer you."
"Oh, no, no," said the general, smiling faintly, "I did not come for that purpose; you are right. I came to tell you that I also look upon you as my enemy. I came to tell you that I hate you instinctively; that it seems as if I had always known you, and always hated you; and, in short, since the young people of the present day will not fight, it remains for us to do so. Do you think so, sir?"
"Certainly. And when I told you I had foreseen the result, it is the honor of your visit I alluded to."
"So much the better. Are you prepared?"
"Yes, sir."
"You know that we shall fight till one of us is dead," said the general, whose teeth were clinched with rage. "Until one of us dies," repeated Monte Cristo, moving his head slightly up and down.
"Let us start, then; we need no witnesses."
"Very true," said Monte Cristo; "it is unnecessary, we know each other so well！"
"On the contrary," said the count, "we know so little of each other."
"Indeed?" said Monte Cristo, with the same indomitable coolness; "let us see. Are you not the soldier Fernand who deserted on the eve of the battle of Waterloo? Are you not the Lieutenant Fernand who served as guide and spy to the French army in Spain? Are you not the Captain Fernand who betrayed, sold, and murdered his benefactor, Ali? And have not all these Fernands, united, made Lieutenant-General, the Count of Morcerf, peer of France?"
"Oh," cried the general, as it branded with a hot iron, "wretch,--to reproach me with my shame when about, perhaps, to kill me！ No, I did not say I was a stranger to you. I know well, demon, that you have penetrated into the darkness of the past, and that you have read, by the light of what torch I know not, every page of my life; but perhaps I may be more honorable in my shame than you under your pompous coverings. No--no, I am aware you know me; but I know you only as an adventurer sewn up in gold and jewellery. You call yourself in Paris the Count of Monte Cristo; in Italy, Sinbad the Sailor; in Malta, I forget what. But it is your real name I want to know, in the midst of your hundred names, that I may pronounce it when we meet to fight, at the moment when I plunge my sword through your heart."
The Count of Monte Cristo turned dreadfully pale; his eye seemed to burn with a devouring fire. He leaped towards a dressing-room near his bedroom, and in less than a moment, tearing off his cravat, his coat and waistcoat, he put on a sailor's jacket and hat, from beneath which rolled his long black hair. He returned thus, formidable and implacable, advancing with his arms crossed on his breast, towards the general, who could not understand why he had disappeared, but who on seeing him again, and feeling his teeth chatter and his legs sink under him, drew back, and only stopped when he found a table to support his clinched hand. "Fernand," cried he, "of my hundred names I need only tell you one, to overwhelm you！ But you guess it now, do you not?--or, rather, you remember it? For, notwithstanding all my sorrows and my tortures, I show you to-day a face which the happiness of revenge makes young again--a face you must often have seen in your dreams since your marriage with Mercédès, my betrothed！"
The general, with his head thrown back, hands extended, gaze fixed, looked silently at this dreadful apparition; then seeking the wall to support him, he glided along close to it until he reached the door, through which he went out backwards, uttering this single mournful, lamentable, distressing cry,--"Edmond Dantès！" Then, with sighs which were unlike any human sound, he dragged himself to the door, reeled across the court-yard, and falling into the arms of his valet, he said in a voice scarcely intelligible,--"Home, home." The fresh air and the shame he felt at having exposed himself before his servants, partly recalled his senses, but the ride was short, and as he drew near his house all his wretchedness revived. He stopped at a short distance from the house and alighted.
The door was wide open, a hackney-coach was standing in the middle of the yard--a strange sight before so noble a mansion; the count looked at it with terror, but without daring to inquire its meaning, he rushed towards his apartment. Two persons were coming down the stairs; he had only time to creep into an alcove to avoid them. It was Mercédès leaning on her son's arm and leaving the house. They passed close by the unhappy being, who, concealed behind the damask curtain, almost felt Mercédès dress brush past him, and his son's warm breath, pronouncing these words,--"Courage, mother！ Come, this is no longer our home！" The words died away, the steps were lost in the distance. The general drew himself up, clinging to the curtain; he uttered the most dreadful sob which ever escaped from the bosom of a father abandoned at the same time by his wife and son. He soon heard the clatter of the iron step of the hackney-coach, then the coachman's voice, and then the rolling of the heavy vehicle shook the windows. He darted to his bedroom to see once more all he had loved in the world; but the hackney-coach drove on and the head of neither Mercédès nor her son appeared at the window to take a last look at the house or the deserted father and husband. And at the very moment when the wheels of that coach crossed the gateway a report was heard, and a thick smoke escaped through one of the panes of the window, which was broken by the explosion.
这时，基督山也已经和艾曼纽、马西米兰一起回到了巴黎城里。他们的归程是愉快的。艾曼纽并不掩饰他看到和平代替战争时的喜悦，并公开承认他同意博爱主义的主张。莫雷尔坐在马车的一角里，让他的妹夫尽力去表达他的喜悦，他的内心虽然也是同样的快乐，但那种快乐却只表现在神色上。
车到土伦城栅口，他们遇到了贝尔图乔，他呆立不动地等候在那儿，象一个站岗的哨兵似的。基督山把头伸到车厢外，低声和他交谈了几句话，那位管家就不见了。
“伯爵阁下，”当他们到达皇家广场尽头的时候，艾曼纽说，“在我家门口让我下来吧，免得我的太太再为我和你担忧。”
“要是我们来庆祝胜利不显得滑稽的话，”莫雷尔说，“我一定会请伯爵到我们家去的，但是伯爵现在肯定也有一颗战栗的心等待别人去安慰。所以我们还是暂时离开我们的朋友，让他赶快回家去吧。”
“等一等，”基督山说，“不要让我同时失掉两个朋友。艾曼纽，你回去看你那可爱的太太吧，并尽量代我向她致意，而你，莫雷尔，请你务必陪我到香榭丽舍大街。”
“太好了，”马西米兰说，“我正好在那一带有件事要办理。”
“要我们等你吃早餐吗？”艾曼纽问。
“不用了，”马西米兰回答。门关了，马车继续前进。“看我给你带来了多好的运气！”当莫雷尔独自和伯爵在一起的时候，他说。“你不这样想吗？”
“是的，”基督山说，“正因为这样，我才希望你留在我的身边。”
“那是奇迹！”莫雷尔继续说。
“什么事？”基督山问。
“刚才所发生的那件事。”
“是的，”伯爵说，“你说得对，那是奇迹。”
“因为阿尔贝是个勇敢的人。”莫雷尔又说。
“非常勇敢，“基督山说，“我曾见过，他在匕首悬在头顶心的当口却安然睡觉。”
“我知道他曾经和人决斗过两次，”马西米兰说，“你怎么能使他取消今天早晨的决斗呢？”
“可能得归功于你呢。”基督山带笑回笑。
“幸而阿尔贝不是在军队里的士兵。”莫雷尔说。
“为什么？”
“有决斗场上向敌人道歉！”那青年队长摇摇头说。
“来，”伯爵温和地说，“不要存着一般人的偏见，莫雷尔！你难道不懂吗？我知道阿尔贝是勇敢的，他就不可能是一个懦夫，一定有某种特殊理由才使他做出今早晨的事情，向他这种行为实在是更勇敢的。”
“当然罗，当然罗，”莫雷尔说，“但我要象西班牙人那样说，他今天不如昨天那样勇敢。”
“和我一同吃早餐，好吗，莫雷尔？”伯爵换了话题说。
“不，我在十点钟必须离开你。”
“那肯定是有人约你吃早餐吗？”伯爵说。莫雷尔微笑一下，摇摇头。
“但你总得有一个地方吃早餐呀。”
“要是我不饿呢？”那青年人说。
“哦！”伯爵说，“我知道只有两样东西会破坏你的胃口：忧愁，——但我看你非常高兴，可见不是因为忧愁，——和爱。现在，在听了你今天早晨告诉我的心事以后，我相信——”
“嗯，伯爵，”莫雷尔愉快地答道，“我不否认。”
“你还没有把这件事讲给我听呢，马西米兰！”伯爵说，从他的口吻里可以看出他多么愿意能知道这个秘密。
“今天早晨我对你说过了，我有一颗心，不是吗，伯爵？”
基督山听他这样说，也没说什么，只把他的手伸给莫雷尔。
“嗯！既然那颗心已不再跟你一同在万森树林了，它就是到别处，而我必须去找到它。”
“去吧，”伯爵从容地说，“去吧，亲爱的朋友，但请答应我，假如你遇到了什么麻烦，别忘了我在这个世界里还有些影响。我很乐意用那种权力来造福那些我所爱的人。而我爱你，莫雷尔。”
“我会记得的，”那青年人说，“象自私的孩子当需要帮助的时候记得他们的父母一样。当我需要你帮助的时候，我会去找你的，伯爵，而那个时候很快就会来的。”
“嗯，我记住了你的话。那末，再会了。”
“再见。”
他们已经到达香榭丽舍大街了。基督山伯爵打开车门，莫雷尔跳到阶沿上，贝尔图乔已在阶沿上等他了。莫雷尔走进玛里尼街便不见了，基督山便急忙去见贝尔图乔。
“怎么样？”他问。
“她就要离开她的家了。”那位管家说。
“她儿子呢？”
“弗劳兰丁，就是他的随从，认为他也一样要走的。”
“到这儿来，”基督山带贝尔图乔到他的书房里，写了我们上面看见的那封信，把它交给这个管家。“去，”他急切地说。“顺便通知海黛说我回来了。”
“我来啦。”海黛说，她一听见马车的声音就马上奔下楼来，看到伯爵平安归来，她的脸上露出喜悦的光芒。贝尔图乔退出。在焦虑不耐地等待了这么久以后，海黛一见他就表达了一个女儿找到她心爱的父亲和一个情妇看见她钟爱的情人时的全部喜悦。基督山心里的喜悦虽然没有这样明显地表达出来，但也不弱于她。在忍受过长期的痛苦以后，好比雨露落在久旱的土地；心和土地都会吸收那甜美的甘露，但是在外表上是看不出来的。
基督山开始想，他长时间不敢相信的一件事情，——就是，世界上有两个美塞苔丝，——或许这是真的了，他或许还能得到幸福。当他那洋溢着幸福的眼睛正在急切地探索海黛那一对润湿眼睛里的所表达的意思的时候，房门突然打开了。伯爵皱了一下眉头。
“马尔塞夫先生来访！”巴浦斯汀说，象是只要他说出那个名字就得请伯爵的原谅似的。果然，伯爵的脸上露出了光彩。“是哪一个，”他问道，子爵还是伯爵？”
“伯爵。”
“噢！”海黛喊道，“这件事还不曾完结吗？”
“我不知道有没有结束，我心爱的孩子，”基督山握住海黛的双手说，“我只知道你不需再害怕了。”
“但这就是那奸恶的——”
“那个人是不能伤害我的，海黛，”基督山说，“可怕的只是他的儿子。”
“你决不会知道我忍受过多大的痛苦，老爷。”海黛说。
基督山微笑了一下。“我凭我父亲的坟墓发誓！”他伸出一只手放在海黛的头上说，“海黛，假若有任何不幸的事情发生的话，那种不幸是决不会落到你头上的。”
“我相信你，大人，象上帝在对我说话一样。”那青年女郎说，并把她的额头凑给伯爵。
基督山在这个纯洁而美丽的额头上吻了一下，这一吻使两颗心同时跳动起来，一颗是剧烈地跳，一颗是沉着地跳。
“噢！”他低声地说，“看来上帝又允许我恋爱了吗？”他一面领那个美丽的希腊人向一座暗梯走，一面对巴浦斯汀说，“请马尔塞夫先生到客厅里吧。”
这次拜访基督山或许事先早已经预料到了，但对我们的读者来说就未必如此了，所以我们必须先来解释一下。前文说过，美塞苔丝也象阿尔贝那样曾列了一张财产目录表，当她在整理她的珠宝、锁上她的抽屉、收集她的钥匙、把一切都井井有条地留下的时候，她不曾发现有一个苍白而阴险的面孔在通往走廊的那道玻璃门上窥视。马尔塞夫夫人没有看见那个人或听到那个人的声音，但那个人却已经看见和听到了房间里发生一切。那个脸色苍白的人从那道玻璃门走到伯爵的卧室里，用一只痉挛的手拉开朝向院子的那个窗口的窗帘。他在那儿站立了十分钟，一动不动，一言不发，听着自己怦怦的心跳的声音。对于他来说，那十分钟是非常难捱的。
而就在那个时候，从约会地回来的阿尔贝发现他父亲在一道窗帘后面等他归来。伯爵的眼睛张大了；他知道阿尔贝曾毫不留情地侮辱过基督山，而不论在全世界哪一个国家里，这样的一次侮辱必然会引起一场你死我活的决斗。阿尔贝安全回来了；那末基督山伯爵一定遭受报复了。
他那忧郁的脸上掠过一丝说不出的快乐，犹如太阳消失在云彩中，进入坟墓前的最后一丝光亮。但我们已经说过，他等了很长时间，始终不见他的儿子到他的房间里来向他叙述胜利的经过。他很懂得他的儿子在为他父亲的名誉去复仇以前为什么不先来见他；但现在复仇已经成功了，他的儿子怎么还不投到他的怀里来呢？
那时，伯爵既然不见阿尔贝来，便派人去找他的仆人来。
我们应该还记得，阿尔贝曾吩咐他的仆人不必向伯爵隐瞒任何事情。十分钟以后，马尔塞夫将军身穿黑衣黑裤，系着军人的领结，戴着黑手套，出现到台阶上。显然事先他已经有过吩咐，此时，当他走到台阶的最后一级的时候，从车房里已驶出一辆车子在等着他。跟班把将军那件裹着两把剑的军人大衣扔进车子里，关上车门坐到车夫的旁边。车夫弯下身来等候他主人的吩咐。
“香榭丽舍大街，”将军说，“基督山伯爵府。快！”
马飞快地疾驰起来，五分钟以后，它们已来到伯爵的门口。马尔塞夫先生自己打开车门；当马车还未停妥的时候，他就象一个年轻人似的跳到阶沿上，按了铃，和他的仆人一同进门。
一会儿以后，巴浦斯汀向基督山通报马尔塞夫伯爵来访，基督山伯爵一面送走海黛，一面吩咐请马尔塞夫伯爵到客厅里等候他。将军在客厅里来回踱着的时候，一转身使发现基督山已站在门口。
“哦！是马尔塞夫先生，”基督山语气平静地说，“我还以为听错了呢。”
“没错，是我，”伯爵说，由于他的嘴唇抽搐得厉害，所以没法清楚地吐出声音来。
“可以让我知道为什么这么早有幸看见马尔塞夫先生的原因吗？”
“你今天早晨不是和我的儿子决斗过了？”将军问。
“您知道那件事了吗？”伯爵回答。
“我还知道，我的儿子有很充分的理由要和你决斗，并且要豁出性命来。”
“可不是大人，他有极充分的理由。但您看，他虽然有那样充分的理由，他却并没有杀死我，甚至不曾和我决斗。”
“可是他认为他的父亲蒙受耻辱——使全家受奇耻大辱。”
“不错，阁下，”基督山带着他那种可怕的镇定神色说，“这是一个次要的原因，却不是主要的原因。”
“那么，一定是你向他道歉，或是作了某种解释了？”
“我没有向他作任何解释，道歉的是他而不是我。”
“但你以为这是什么原因呢？”
“大概是他认为有一个人比我的罪更大。”
“那个人是谁？”
“他的父亲。”
“或许是吧，”伯爵脸色苍白地说，“但你知道，有罪的人是不愿意让人相信他是有罪的。”
“我知道，我已预料到这个时候要发生什么事情了。”
“你料到我的儿子是一个懦夫！”伯爵喊道。
“阿尔贝·马尔塞夫先生决不是一个懦夫！”基督山说。
“一个手里握着一把剑的人看到他的仇敌就站在眼前而竟不决斗，就是一个懦夫！他为什么不到这儿？我可以当面告诉他。”
“阁下，”基督山冷冷回答，“我想不到您这么早到这儿来向我叙述家庭琐事的。回去跟阿尔贝先生讲吧，他或许知道该怎么回答您。”
“哦，不，不，”将军面带微笑说，但那个笑容很快就消失了，“我不是为了这个目的来的。你说得对！我是来告你：我也把你当做我的仇敌！我来告诉你：我本能地憎恨你！我好象早就认识你，而且早就恨你。总之，既然我的儿子不肯与你决斗，那就只有我与你来决斗了。你的意见如何，阁下？”
“当然。我告诉您，说我预料将要发生什么事的时候，当然指您光临这件事。”
“那就好了，那么，你准备好了吗？”
“我是始终准备着的，阁下。”
“你要知道，我们要决斗到底，直到我们之中死了一个才停止”将军狂怒地咬牙切齿地说。
“直到我们之中死了一个才停止。”基督山复说了一遍这句话，轻轻地点点头。
“那末我们现在就开始吧，我们不需要见证人。”
“真的，”基督山说，“我认为这是不必要的，我们已是老相识了。”
“正相反，”伯爵说，“我们之间非常生疏。”
“哼！”基督山仍用那种让人猜不透的冷淡口气说，“让我们来算算看。您不就是那个在滑铁卢开战之前开小差逃走的小弗尔南多吗？您不就是那个在西班牙充当法军的向导和间谍的弗尔南多中尉吗？而这些个弗尔南多联合起来，不就变成了法国贵族院议员马尔塞夫中将了吗？”
“噢，” 将军象是被一块热铁烙了一下似的狂喊道，“混蛋！当你要杀死我的时候，竟还要数数我的耻辱！不，我并没有说你不清楚我。我知道得很清楚，恶鬼，你看透过去的黑暗，那些往事，我不知道你凭借着哪一种火炬的光，读遍了我每一页生活史，但我的耻辱比起你用华丽的外衣掩盖着的耻辱或许更可敬一些。不，不，我知道你认识我，但我却不清楚你这个裹披着金银珠宝的冒险家。你在巴黎自称为基督山伯爵，在意大利自称为水手辛巴德，在马耳他我不知道你又自称什么。但在你千百个名字中，我现在想知道的，是你的真名字，我们决斗的时候，当我把我的剑插进你的心窝的时候，我可以用那个名字来呼唤你。”
基督山伯爵的脸苍白了；他的眼睛里似乎燃烧着一种毁灭一切的火焰。他跑到他卧室的一间更衣室里，不到一分钟，就撕下他的领结、上装、背心，穿上一件短褂和戴上一顶水手帽，水手帽底下露出他那又长又黑的头发。他就这样回来，把双手叉在胸前，带着仇深似海的表情气势汹汹地向将军走过去。将军最初不懂他为什么忽然不见，但当再见到他的时候，他的全身发起抖来，他的腿软了下去，他步步后退，直到找到一张桌子支撑住身体才停住。
“弗尔南多！”伯爵大声说，“在我千百个名字之中，我只要告诉你一个就可以把你压倒的！你现在已经猜到了，或说得更贴切些，你还记得这个名字，不是吗？因为我虽然经历过种种忧虑和痛苦，但我今天让你看到了一个因为复仇的愉快又变得年轻了的面孔，这个面孔，自从你娶了我的未婚妻美塞苔丝后，一定是常常梦见的！”
将军张开双手，头向后仰着，目光凝滞，默不作声地盯着这个可怕的显身；然后，他往后退靠在墙上，紧紧地贴着墙壁溜到门口，一面往后退出门口，一面发出一阵悲凉、哀伤、凄厉的叫喊：“爱德蒙·唐太斯！”然后，带着丝毫不象人声的悲叫，他踉踉跄跄地奔向门廊，踉跄般越过庭院，跌入他贴身男仆的怀抱里，用含糊不清的声音说：“回家！回家！”
新鲜的空气和在仆人面前显露自己软弱的那种羞耻感恢复了他的一部分知觉；但那段路程太短了，当他快要到家的时候，他的全部痛苦又重新回来了。他在离家一小段路的地方下车。
那座房子的前门大开着，一辆出租马车停在前院中央，——在这样高贵的一座大厦里面，这是一种罕见的现象。伯爵恐怖地望着这个情景，但他不敢向别人询问，只是向他自己的房间跑过去。两个人正从楼梯上走下来；他急忙躲到一个小间里来避开他们。来者是美塞苔丝，正扶着她儿子的臂膀离开这座院子。他们经过那个人的身边，将军躲在门帘后面，几乎感觉到美塞苔丝的衣服擦过他的身体，和他儿子讲话时的那股热气，这时阿尔贝正巧在这时说：“勇敢一点，妈！来，这已不是我们的家了！”语声渐渐沉寂，脚步声愈去愈远。将军直挺起身子，紧紧地抓住门帘；从一个同时被他的妻子和儿子所抛弃的父亲的胸膛里，发出了人世间最可怕的啜泣。不久，他就听到马车铁门的关闭声，车夫的吆喝声，然后，那辆笨重车子的滚动震得窗户都动起来。他跑到他的卧室里，想再看一眼他在这个世界上所爱的一切；但马车继续向前走动，美塞苔丝或阿尔贝的脸都没有在车窗上出现，他们都没有向那座被抛弃的房子和向那个被抛弃的丈夫和父亲投送最后一个告别和留恋的目光， ——也许就是宽恕的目光。正当那辆马车的车轮走过门口的时候，从屋子里发出一响枪声，从一扇被震破的窗口里，冒出了一缕暗淡的轻烟。