Part 7 (1/2)

”Nor I,” said Debray. ”But where now is Madame de Morcerf? Without exception, she was the most splendid specimen of a woman I ever saw!”

”High praise, that!” cried the Count, laughing. ”Who would suppose our cold, calculating, ambitious, haughty, talented and opulent diplomat and aristocrat had so much blood in his veins? When before was he known to admire anything, male or female--but himself--or, at all events, to be guilty of the bad taste of expressing that admiration?”

”Debray is right,” replied the journalist, somewhat gravely. ”Madame de Morcerf was, indeed, a n.o.ble and dignified woman--accomplished, lovely, dignified, amiable--”

”Stop!--stop!--in the name of all that's forbearing, be considerate of my weak nerves! You, too, Beauchamp. Well, she must have been a paragon to make the conquest of two of the most inveterate bachelors in all Paris! But where is this marvel of excellence--pardon me, Beauchamp,”

perceiving that the journalist looked yet more grave, and seemed in no mood for bantering or being bantered--”where is Madame de Morcerf at the present time?”

”At Ma.r.s.eilles, I have heard.”

”And is married again?”

”No. She is yet a widow.”

”And is a recluse, like Morrel's beautiful wife?”

”So says report. They dwell together.”

”How romantic! The young wife, whose hero-husband is winning glory amid the perils of war and pestilence, pours her griefs, joys and antic.i.p.ations into the bosom of the young mother, who appreciates and reciprocates all, because she has a son exposed to the same perils--and both beautiful as the morning! A charming picture! Two immortals in epaulets and sashes in the background are only wanted instead of one.

But I must to the Chambers. M. Dantes is expected to speak in the tribune this morning upon his measure for the workmen.”

”Do you know, Count, who this M. Dantes really is?” asked Debray.

”There's a question for a Ministerial Secretary to ask a member while a journalist sits by! I only know of M. Dantes that he is the most eloquent man I ever listened to. I don't mean that he's the greatest man, or the profoundest statesman, or the wisest politician, or the sagest political economist; but I do mean that, for natural powers of persuasion and denunciation--for natural oratory--I have never known his rival. If Plato's maxim, 'that oratory must be estimated by its effects,' is at all correct, then is M. Dantes the greatest orator in France, for the effect of his oratory is miraculous. There is a sort of magic in his clear, sonorous, powerful, yet most exquisitely modulated voice, and the wave of his arm is like that of a necromancer's wand.”

”You are enthusiastic, Count,” observed Beauchamp, ”but very just. M.

Dantes is, indeed, a remarkable man, and possessed of remarkable endowments, both of mind and body. His personal advantages are wonderful. Such a figure and grace as his are alone worth more than all the powers of other distinguished speakers for popular effect. 'The eyes of the mult.i.tude are more eloquent than their ears,' as the English Shakespeare says.”

”I never saw such eyes and such a face,” remarked Debray, ”but once in my life. Do you remember the Count of Monte-Cristo, Messieurs?”

”We shall not soon forget him,” was the reply. ”But this man differs greatly from the Count in most respects, though certainly not unlike him in others.”

”True,” replied the Secretary; ”in manners, habits, costume and a thousand other things there is a marked difference. Besides, the Count was said to be incalculably rich, while the Deputy has every appearance of being in very moderate circ.u.mstances. But he leads a life so retired that he is known only in the Chambers and in his public character. I allude to the Deputy's person, when I speak of resemblance to that wonderful Count, who set all Paris in a fever, and, more wonderful still, kept it so for a whole season. There is I know not what in his air and manners that often recalls to me that extraordinary man. There are the same large and powerful eyes, the same brilliant teeth for which the women envied the Count so much, the same graceful and dignified figure, the same peculiar voice, the same good taste in dress, and, above all, the same colorless, pallid face, as if, to borrow the idea of the Countess of G----, he had risen from the dead, or was a visitant from another world, or a vampire of this. Her celebrated friend, Lord B----, she used to say, was the only man she ever knew with such a complexion.”

”But, if I recollect rightly,” said Beauchamp, ”the Count of Monte-Cristo was somewhat noted for his profusion of black hair and beard. The Deputy Dantes is so utterly out of the mode, and out of good taste, too, as to wear no beard, and his hair is short. His face is as smooth as a woman's, and he always wears a white cravat like a cure.”

”But he is, nevertheless, one of the handsomest men in Paris,” added the Count--”at least the women say so. You might add, the Deputy has many gray hairs among his black ones, and many furrows on his white brow, while Monte-Cristo had neither. Besides, M. Dantes has a handsome daughter and a son who resembles him greatly, both well grown, while the Count was childless.”

”Well, well, be his person and family what they may,” said the Secretary, rising, ”I wish to G.o.d the Ministry could secure his talents.

I tell you, Messieurs, that man's influence over the destinies of France is to be almost omnipotent. His powerful mind has grasped the great problem of the age--remuneration for labor. The next revolution in France will hinge upon that--mark the prediction--and this man and his coadjutors, among whom Beauchamp here is one, are doing all they can to hasten the crisis. The whole soul of this remarkable man seems devoted to the elevation of the ma.s.ses--the laboring cla.s.ses--the people--and to the amelioration of their condition. His efforts and those of all like him cannot ultimately succeed. But they will have a temporary triumph, and the streets of Paris will run with blood! These men are rousing terrible agencies. They are evoking the fiends of hunger and misery, which will neither obey them nor lie down at their bidding.”

”And the magicians who have summoned these foul fiends will prove their earliest victims!” said Chateau-Renaud, in some excitement.

”Messieurs, listen a moment!” cried Beauchamp, rising. ”Pardon me, but this discussion must cease, at least here. It can lead to no good result. As the conductor of a reform journal, I entirely differ with you both. But let not political differences interfere with our personal friends.h.i.+p. Come, come, old friends, let us forsake this place, redolent with politics, having a very atmosphere of discussion, and repair to the Chambers, taking Very's on our way.”

”Agreed!” cried the Deputy and the Secretary, and the three left the journalist's sanctum arm in arm.

CHAPTER V.