Part 34 (2/2)
”That is a question, love, not easily answered. That the cause of man and France has wonderfully triumphed during the past three days is, no doubt, most true. But this victory, love, I foresaw. Indeed, it was but the inevitable result of an irresistible cause. It was neither chance, love, nor a spontaneous burst of patriotism that, on the first day, filled the boulevards with fifty thousand blouses, which on the second won over to the people eighty thousand National Guards, and on the third choked the streets of Paris with barricades constructed by engineers and defended by men completely armed. The events of the last three days, Mercedes, have been maturing in the womb of Providence for the past ten years. It is their birth only which has now taken place, and to some the parturition seems a little premature, I suppose. This banquet caused the fright that hastened the event,” added Dantes, laughing.
”You are very scientific in your comparisons,” replied Mercedes, slightly blus.h.i.+ng, ”and I suppose I must admit, very apt. But tell me, love, is all over? That is, must you be away from me any more at night, and wander about, Heaven only knows where, in this dark and dangerous city, or Heaven only knows with whom or for what?”
Dantes kissed his fair wife, and, after a pause, during which he gazed fondly into her eyes, replied:
”I hope, I trust, I believe, dear, that all is over--at least all that will take me from you, as during the past week. France has or will have a Republic. That is as certain as fate can make it. But first she will have to pa.s.s through strife and tribulation--perhaps bloodshed. The end surely, love, is not yet. But France is now comparatively free. The dreadful problem is now nearer solution than it ever was. Labor will hereafter be granted to all, together with the adequate reward of labor.
Dest.i.tution will not be deemed guilt. The death-penalty is abolished.
The rich will not with impunity grind the poor into powder beneath their heels. Asylums for the suffering, the distressed, the abandoned of both s.e.xes will be sustained. The efforts which, as individuals, we have some of us made for years to ameliorate the condition of mankind, to a.s.suage human woes and augment human joys, will henceforth be encouraged and directly aided by the State. This Revolution, love, is a social Revolution, and during the sixty-four hours the Provisional Government was in session, in the Hotel de Ville, I became thoroughly convinced that the thousands and tens of thousands who, with sleepless vigilance, watched their proceedings, had learned the deep lesson too well to be further deceived, and that the fruits of the Revolution they had won would not again be s.n.a.t.c.hed from their lips.”
”And the result of this triumph of the people you believe has advanced the cause of human happiness?” asked Mercedes.
”Most unquestionably, dear, and most incalculably, too, perhaps.”
”All your friends are not as disinterested as you have been, Edmond,”
said Mercedes.
”And why think you that, dear?”
”For six full years I know you have devoted all your powers of mind and body and all your immense wealth to one single object.”
”And that object?”
”Has been the happiness of your race.”
”Well, dear?”
”And now, when a triumph has been achieved--now, when others, who have been but mere instruments--blind instruments, many of them, in your hands to accomplish they knew not what--come forward and a.s.sume place and power--you, Edmond, the n.o.ble author and first cause of all, remain quietly in seclusion, unknown, unnamed, unappreciated and uncommended, while the others reap the fruits of your toil!”
”Well, dear?” said Dantes, smiling at the warmth of his wife in his behalf.
”But it is not 'well,' Edmond. I say no one is as disinterested as you.”
”Ah! love, what of ambition?”
Mercedes smiled.
”Let me tell you all, love, and then you will not, I fear, think me disinterested,” said Dantes seriously. ”I should blush, indeed, at praise so little deserved. You know all my early history. I suffered--I was wronged--I was revenged. But was I happy? I sought happiness. All men do so, even the most miserable. Some seek happiness in gratified ambition, some in gratified avarice, some in gratified vanity, and some in the gratification of a dominant l.u.s.t for pleasure or for power. I sought happiness in gratified revenge!”
Mercedes shuddered, and, hiding her face on the bosom of her husband, clung to it more closely as if for protection. Dantes drew her form to his as he would have drawn that of a child, and continued:
”I sought happiness in vengeance for terrible wrongs, and to win it I devoted a life and countless wealth. What was the result?
Misery!--misery!--misery!”
”Poor Edmond!” murmured Mercedes, clinging to him closer than ever.
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