Chapter 2
Finally, unable to bear the sight of the happy couple, Fernand rushed out of the house. Mercedes followed him.
“Dear cousin, I want you to embrace my husband-to-be,” she pleaded, “I know he will find a true friend in you, as I did.”
Fernand shrank back from this demand. As Edmond came to him with a smile and an outstretched hand, Fernand could only bring himself to touch the hand quickly and coldly. Then he hurried away, hardly watching where he was going. He was so deep in misery that he passed by an inn without noticing Danglars and another man seated at a table outside. Glasses of wine and a half-empty bottle were before them. Danglars called to Fernand and motioned the waiter to bring another glass. At the sound of his name, Fernand looked around wildly as if awakened from a bad dream.
“You called me?” he asked.
The second man at the table was the Dantes’ downstairs neighbour, a man named Caderousse. Now he answered Fernand.
“Yes, we called. When we see a young lover running madly through the streets, we know fate has dealt him a blow. So we offer him some wine.” With that, Caderousse filled the third glass, but spilled wine as he poured. He had already had seven glasses.
Fernand sat down with a groan. Ignoring the wine, he buried his head in his hands.
“Why didn’t the sea swallow him up?” he cried, “Other men leave and never return. Why must Dantes come back to claim Mercedes?”
Caderousse turned to Danglars and winked, “See Danglars, you have a brother in misery. You are united in your hatred of the handsome and lucky Edmond Dantes.”
Danglars had only drunk one glass of wine, so he was still thinking clearly. As he looked at Fernand’s agony, his scheming mind began to form a plan for using the unhappy soldier for his own revenge. He said lightly, “In stories, one lover gets rid of a rival by a well-placed knife thrust. But perhaps real men are too timid for that.”
Fernand was stung by this insult and looked up angrily. “As a soldier and a man I would not hesitate for one moment to put a knife in Dantes’ heart,” he cried, “But alas, Mercedes has forbidden it. I would earn his death and her hatred with the same blow.”
“Well, then,” said Caderousse cheerfully, “you will just have to see them married before the Pharaon sails again under its new commander, Captain Edmond Dantes!”
This time it was Danglars who looked up angrily, “I will thank you, Caderousse, not to keep mentioning my loss. If certain authorities knew what I know, Dantes would not be made captain. In fact, he would be arrested for conspiring against our good King Louis XVIII.”
Danglars saw he had the full attention of the other men, though Caderousse was beginning to succumb to too much wine. Danglars leaned across the table and whispered, “Edmond Dantes stopped the ship at Elba and went ashore to see an enemy of the King, the exiled Napoleon. When he came back on board, he carried a letter. It was no doubt addressed to Napoleon’s friends in Paris. Then after we had docked, he asked Monsieur Morrel for a leave of absence, not only to get married but to take something to Paris. It must be that letter.”
“Where is the letter now?” asked Fernand, shocked at such dangerous conduct.
“It must be in one of three places,” replied Danglars, “Dantes may be carrying it. Or he has left it at his father’s apartment. Or it is in his cabin on board ship.”
Fernand now went very pale. In a voice shaking with determination he cried, “I shall go to the King’s Prosecutor here in Marseilles and denounce Edmond Dantes as an enemy of the King!”
Danglars shook his head in disapproval.
“They will make you sign your declaration. Then they will put him in prison, but only for a few years. The day that he is feed, he will come looking for you. He will attack you, and you will have to defend yourself. As a soldier, you are experienced in fighting and you may wound him fatally. Mercedes will hate you for that. But then, she would already hate you for denouncing him in the first place.”
Fernand’s shoulders drooped. “You are right. I can do nothing to him,” he exclaimed.
“There is a way to do it, I think,” said Danglars. He ordered a waiter to bring pen and ink, and paper. Then he wrote a letter with his left hand so that his handwriting might not be recognized. He put in all the facts he had told Fernand and Caderousse. He signed the letter “A Friend,” folded it in two and addressed it to the King’s Prosecutor.
Fernand took the letter and read it aloud with much satisfaction. Caderousse, though very drunk, made an effort to follow the reading.
“Oh, that is a terrible thing to say,” complained Caderousse, “Dantes is my neighbour, and I know this would break his father’s heart.” He reached out an unsteady hand to grab the letter.
But Danglars quickly snatched it from Fernand and crumpled it into a loose ball. Then he said with a laugh, “You are right, friend Caderousse. We were only making a joke. I never meant to send such a document because Dantes is my shipmate.” He tossed the crumpled letter into the bushes near the table, then added, “Now I will help you home, for too much wine will cause a man to stagger. Good-bye, Fernand.”
Danglars helped Caderousse to his feet and led him away from the inn. The drunken man went willingly but slowly. As they walked up the street, Danglars glanced back. Fernand had risen and was searching in the bushes for the letter. Danglars smiled to himself, well pleased with his own cleverness and judgment of other men.
Near noon the next day, a procession of people in their best clothes walked to that same inn. In the lead was Edmond, his handsome face aglow with happiness. Mercedes walked at his right, linking her arm with his. She wore a long, flowing white gown. Its style was simple but elegant, making her look more like a Greek goddess than a seventeen-year-old girl of Marseilles. On her head was a circlet of fresh flowers. Her eyes were shining.
Edmond had a single flower pinned to the jacket of his sailor’s dress outfit. A similar flower adorned the lapel of old Monsieur Dantes’ best black coat. He had brushed the coat well and polished its steel buttons. A three-cornered hat sat on his white hair at a jaunty angle. He walked in the crowd just behind Mercedes.
After them walked Monsieur Morrel, the shipowner, whose presence was a great honour. With him was Fernand, who was so pale that some wondered if he was ill. Then came Caderousse, Danglars, and all the sailors on the Pharaon. They were accompanied by their wives and sweethearts. This was the procession heading to the engagement luncheon of Edmond and Mercedes.
The inn was closed to outsiders that day, and all the tables had been arranged to form one long one. Mercedes sat midway with Monsieur Dantes and Fernand on either side of her. Edmond sat across from them between Monsieur Morrel and Danglars. The rest of the group seated themselves as they chose, with much noise and good-natured shoving. Toasts to the engaged couple were offered first by Morrel and then by Monsieur Dantes. Soon the innkeeper and his helpers began a parade of special dishes to the celebrators. These dishes included lobster and sausages cooked in five different ways. The platters were decorated with clusters of tomatoes, parsley and onions.
Edmond and Mercedes were too busy gazing at each other across the table to bother eating. Edmond could not stop smiling, for he considered himself the happiest man in the world. Caderousse led all the guests in eating heartily—all, except Fernand. He only picked at his food while nervously watching the door that opened to the outside.
After a while, Edmond stood up and took out his pocket watch. “My friends,” he announced, “I have a surprise. With Monsieur Morrel’s help, Mercedes and I have been able to rush through the many papers required before a marriage may take place. Therefore, this is not an engagement feast you are eating, but a wedding feast.” He looked at his watch. “We will be married in exactly one half-hour from now. The mayor awaits us,” he added further.
This announcement caused a sensation, and several cheers went up. There was one last toast. Then everyone assembled at the door ready to make the walk to the town hall into a happy parade. One of Edmond’s shipmates threw open the door, only to find two soldiers standing there. They pushed the sailor back into the room and motioned the others to move away. A magistrate entered, wearing his official black robe.
“Where is Edmond Dantes?” he asked.
Edmond dropped Mercedes’ hand and stepped forward. “Here, sir,” said he.
In a cold, official voice the magistrate said, “I arrest you in the name of the law. Follow me.” He turned and started out.
Immediately the two soldiers placed themselves one in front and one in back of Edmond and waited for him to obey. Edmond was too shocked to move.
“Arrested? Me? Why, sir?” he cried, “have done nothing. This must be a mistake.”
The magistrate turned back for a moment and said, “I have been ordered to arrest Edmond Dantes, and I am arresting Edmond Dantes. The reasons will be told to you by the King’s Prosecutor. Now, come along.”
Monsieur Morrel, though greatly disturbed, knew that this was the way the law did things. He whispered, “Go, Edmond. This man is only doing as he has been told. When you see the Prosecutor, it will all be cleared up.”
These words calmed Edmond, and he said almost cheerfully to the magistrate, “Sir, I am at your service. I wish that we might go quickly so that I may return the sooner. I have important business to attend to in a halfhour.”
At this, there were laughter and cheers. Several sailors shook Edmond’s hand, and the women waved their handkerchiefs. But Mercedes had turned pale. Edmond gave her a quick smile. With head held high, he marched out between the soldiers.
