Chapter 142: Chapter 142

"Very well, listen. I became so fascinated by that splendid reddish horse with its elegant little rider, so tastefully dressed in pink satin jacket and cap, that I found myself practically praying for them to win, as if half my fortune depended on it. When I saw them pass all the others and reach the finish line in such magnificent style, I actually clapped my hands with joy!

"Imagine my surprise when I returned home, the first thing I encountered on the staircase was that very jockey in the pink jacket! I assumed by some coincidence that the winning horse’s owner must live in my hotel. But when I entered my apartment, I found the actual gold cup awarded as the prize sitting there! Inside was a small note that read: ’From Lord Ruthven to Countess G.’"

"Exactly!" said Morcerf. "I knew it!"

"That the horse’s owner was Lord Ruthven himself."

"Which Lord Ruthven?"

"Ours, the Vampire from our Italian adventure!"

"Is that possible?" exclaimed the countess. "He’s here in Paris?"

"Of course. Why not?"

"And you visit him? You see him socially?"

"He’s actually my closest friend, and Monsieur de Château-Renaud knows him as well."

"But how are you so certain he won the Jockey Club prize?"

"Wasn’t the winning horse registered as ’Vampa’?"

"Don’t you remember the name of the famous bandit who captured me?"

"The one the count rescued me from in such an extraordinary way?"

"Of course, I remember now."

"His name was Vampa. Obviously that’s where the count got the name."

"But why would he send me the cup?"

"First, because I’d talked about you extensively, as you can imagine. Second, because he was delighted to see a fellow countrywoman take such interest in his success."

"Please tell me you never repeated to the count all those foolish things we said about him?"

"I can’t swear I didn’t. Besides, his sending you the cup under the name Lord Ruthven-"

"Oh, that’s terrible! He must hold a grudge against me."

"Does his gesture seem like an enemy’s?"

"What kind of impression is he making?"

"Well," said Albert, "he was the talk of the town for a week. Then the English queen’s coronation happened, followed by the theft of some famous actress’s diamonds, and people moved on to other topics."

"My friend," Château-Renaud interrupted, "you’re not being fair to the count. Don’t believe Albert, Countess. Far from the excitement about the Count of Monte Cristo fading, I assure you it’s as strong as ever. His first astonishing act was gifting a pair of horses worth thirty-two thousand gold coins to Madame Danglars. His second was the almost miraculous saving of Madame de Villefort’s life. Now he’s won the Jockey Club prize. Despite what Morcerf says, the count is absolutely the center of attention right now, and will continue to be for at least another month if he keeps displaying such eccentric behavior, though for him, this might just be normal."

"Perhaps you’re right," said Morcerf. "Meanwhile, who’s in the Russian ambassador’s box?"

"Which box?" asked the countess.

"The one between the pillars on the first tier. It looks completely redecorated."

"Did you notice anyone there during the first act?" Château-Renaud asked.

"No," the countess replied. "It was definitely empty during the first act." Then, returning to their previous conversation: "So you really believe your mysterious Count of Monte Cristo won the prize?"

"And sent me the cup?"

"But I don’t know him. I’m tempted to return it."

"Please don’t! He’d only send you another made from a magnificent sapphire or carved from a giant ruby. That’s just his way, you have to take him as he is."

The bell rang, signaling the second act was about to begin. Albert stood to return to his seat.

"Will I see you again?" the countess asked.

"After the next act, if you permit, I’ll come ask if there’s anything I can do for you in Paris."

"Please note," said the countess, "my current address is 22 Rue de Rivoli, and I receive friends every Saturday evening. Consider yourselves invited."

The young men bowed and left the box. When they reached their seats, they found everyone in the lower section standing and staring at the box formerly occupied by the Russian ambassador. A man of about thirty-five to forty, dressed in black, had just entered with a young woman dressed in Eastern style. The woman was extraordinarily beautiful, and her magnificent jewelry drew every eye.

"Look!" said Albert. "It’s Monte Cristo and his Greek companion!"

The strangers were indeed the count and Haydée. Within moments, the young woman had captured the attention of the entire theater. Even people in the boxes leaned forward to examine her spectacular diamonds.

The second act passed amid continuous buzzing, an excited whisper indicating something fascinating was happening. Every eye, every thought focused on the young, beautiful woman whose gorgeous clothing and splendid jewels created an extraordinary spectacle.

On this occasion, Madame Danglars sent an unmistakable signal that she wanted Albert to visit her box immediately after the curtain fell. Neither politeness nor good manners would allow Morcerf to ignore such a clear invitation. When the act ended, he went to the baroness.

After bowing to the two ladies, he shook hands with Debray. The baroness welcomed him warmly, while Eugénie received him with her usual coldness.

"My dear fellow," said Debray, "your timing is perfect. Madame is overwhelming me with questions about the count. She insists I tell her his birth, education, and background, where he came from and where he’s going. Since I’m no fortune teller, I couldn’t help. So I told her, ’Ask Morcerf. He knows everything about his beloved Monte Cristo.’ That’s why the baroness wanted to see you."

"Isn’t it almost unbelievable," said Madame Danglars, "that someone with at least half a million in secret funds at his disposal should know so little?"

"Let me assure you, ma’am," said Lucien, "if I really had that sum available, I’d use it more profitably than investigating the Count of Monte Cristo. His only merit in my eyes is being twice as rich as an oil sheikh. Anyway, I’ve handed the matter over to Morcerf, so work it out with him. Personally, I don’t care about the count or his mysterious activities."

"I’m quite sure no oil sheikh would have sent me a pair of horses worth thirty-two thousand gold coins, wearing diamonds valued at five thousand each on their heads."

"He seems obsessed with diamonds," said Morcerf, smiling. "I truly believe he keeps his pockets full just to scatter them like breadcrumbs wherever he goes."

"Perhaps he’s discovered some mine," suggested Madame Danglars. "Did you know he has unlimited credit at the baron’s bank?" Get full chapters from Novᴇl_Fire(.)net

"I wasn’t aware," Albert replied, "but I can easily believe it."

"Furthermore, he told Monsieur Danglars he plans to stay only one year in Paris, during which he intends to spend six million."

"He must be a Middle Eastern prince traveling incognito."

"Have you noticed the remarkable beauty of that young woman, Monsieur Lucien?" Eugénie asked.

"I’ve never met a woman so willing to praise another woman’s beauty as you," Lucien responded, raising his opera glasses. "A truly lovely creature, indeed!"

"Who is this young woman, Monsieur de Morcerf?" Eugénie inquired. "Does anyone know?"

"Mademoiselle," Albert said, responding to this direct question, "I can give you very precise information about her and most things concerning the mysterious person we’re discussing. The young woman is Greek."

"I assumed so from her dress. If that’s all you know, everyone here knows as much."

"I’m sorry to be such an ignorant guide," Morcerf replied, "but I must confess I have nothing more to share. Wait, I do know one more thing. She’s a musician. One day when I was having breakfast with the count, I heard the sound of a guzla, a Greek stringed instrument. It must have been her playing."

"So your count entertains visitors?" asked Madame Danglars.

"Indeed he does, and very lavishly."

"I must convince Monsieur Danglars to invite him to a ball or dinner, so he’ll be obliged to invite us in return."

"What?" said Debray, laughing. "Would you really go to his house?"

"Why not? My husband could accompany me."

"But do you know this mysterious count is unmarried?"

"You have clear proof otherwise if you look across at that beautiful Greek woman," said the baroness with a laugh.

"No, no!" exclaimed Debray. "That woman isn’t his wife. He told us himself she’s his slave. Don’t you remember, Morcerf? He said so at your breakfast."

"Well then," said the baroness, "if she’s a slave, she has all the bearing and manner of a princess."

"An Arabian Nights princess?"

"If you like. But tell me, Lucien, what makes someone a princess? Diamonds, and she’s covered with them."