Chapter 143: Chapter 143

"She seems overloaded to me," Eugénie observed. "She’d look far better with fewer jewels. Then we could actually see her beautifully shaped neck and wrists."

"Listen to the artist speak!" exclaimed Madame Danglars. "My poor Eugénie, you must hide your passion for the fine arts."

"I simply admire beautiful things," the young woman replied.

"What do you think of the count?" Debray asked. "He’s quite handsome, in my opinion."

"The count?" Eugénie repeated, as though she hadn’t noticed him before. "Oh, he’s so dreadfully pale."

"I completely agree," said Morcerf. "The secret of that extreme paleness is what we’re trying to discover. Countess G insists he’s a vampire."

"So Countess G has returned to Paris?" asked the baroness.

"Is that her, mother?" Eugénie asked. "Almost opposite us, with all that beautiful blonde hair?"

"Yes," said Madame Danglars. "That’s her. Do you know what you should do, Morcerf?"

"You should bring your Count of Monte Cristo to us."

"Why?" asked Eugénie.

"To converse with him, of course. Don’t you want to meet him?"

"Not particularly," Eugénie replied.

"Strange girl," the baroness murmured.

"He’ll probably come on his own," said Morcerf. "Look, ma’am, he recognizes you and is bowing."

The baroness returned the greeting with her most charming smile.

"Well," said Morcerf, "I suppose I’ll be generous and tear myself away to help you. Goodbye, I’ll try to find a way to speak with him."

"Go straight to his box. That’s simplest."

"But I’ve never been introduced."

"Introduced to whom?"

"To the beautiful Greek woman."

"You say she’s just a slave?"

"While you claim she’s a queen, or at least a princess. No, I’m hoping that when he sees me leave you, he’ll come out."

"That’s possible. Go."

"I’m going," Albert said with a parting bow.

Just as he passed the count’s box, the door opened and Monte Cristo emerged. After giving instructions to Ali, who stood in the lobby, the count took Albert’s arm. Ali carefully closed the box door and positioned himself in front of it while a crowd of spectators gathered around the tall African man. ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ noveⅼfire.net

"Honestly," said Monte Cristo, "Paris is a strange city, and Parisians are peculiar people. Look at that cluster around poor Ali, who’s as surprised as they are. You’d think he was the only African they’d ever seen. I can promise you, a Frenchman could appear in public in Tunis, Istanbul, Baghdad, or Cairo without being treated that way."

"That shows Eastern nations have too much common sense to waste time on things unworthy of attention. However, regarding Ali, I assure you the interest he generates comes from being your attendant, you, who are currently the most celebrated and fashionable person in Paris."

"Really? And what earned me such flattering distinction?"

"You yourself, of course! You give away horses worth thousands. You save the lives of high-ranking ladies. Under the name Major Black, you race thoroughbreds ridden by tiny riders not bigger than children. Then, after winning the golden trophy, instead of valuing it, you give it to the first beautiful woman you think of!"

"Who filled your head with all this nonsense?"

"First, I heard it from Madame Danglars, who’s dying to see you in her box, or to be seen with you. Second, from a newspaper. Third, from my own imagination. If you wanted secrecy, why call your horse Vampa?"

"That was definitely an oversight," the count admitted. "But tell me, does the Count of Morcerf never attend the opera? I’ve been looking for him without success."

"He’ll be here tonight."

"In the baroness’s box, I believe."

"That charming young woman with her is her daughter?"

"Congratulations." Morcerf smiled.

"We’ll discuss that subject later," he said. "But what do you think of the music?"

"The music you’ve been listening to."

"Oh, it’s adequate for human composition, sung by humans, to quote the philosopher Diogenes."

"From which I gather, my dear count, that you can enjoy angelic music from heaven whenever you wish?"

"You’re partially correct. When I want to hear sounds more perfectly harmonious than mortal ears have ever heard, I go to sleep."

"Then sleep here, my dear count. The conditions are favorable. What else was opera invented for?"

"No, thank you. Your orchestra is too noisy. To sleep the way I mean requires absolute calm and silence, plus certain preparation-"

"I know, the famous hashish!"

"Precisely. So, my dear viscount, whenever you want to be treated to music, come have dinner with me."

"I already enjoyed that treat at your breakfast," said Morcerf.

"Ah, then you heard Haydée’s guzla. The poor exile often passes the time playing the melodies of her homeland."

Morcerf didn’t pursue the subject, and Monte Cristo fell into silent thought. The bell rang, signaling the curtain was about to rise.

"You’ll excuse me," said the count, turning toward his box.

"Please give my regards to Countess G from her vampire friend."

"And what message should I give the baroness?"

"That, with her permission, I’ll have the honor of paying my respects during the evening."

The third act began. During its progress, the Count of Morcerf, keeping his promise, appeared in Madame Danglars’s box. The Count of Morcerf wasn’t someone who excited interest or curiosity in public entertainment venues, so his presence went completely unnoticed except by the box’s occupants. However, Monte Cristo’s sharp eyes marked his arrival, and a slight but meaningful smile crossed his lips. Haydée, whose attention seemed fixed on the stage like all unsophisticated souls, delighted in anything that appealed to the eye or ear.

The third act passed as usual. The dancers performed their customary routines. The prince and princess played out their dramatic confrontation, and the royal father swept majestically across the stage with his daughter, displaying the rich folds of his velvet robes. Then the curtain fell again, and spectators poured from the theater into the lobbies and salon.

The count left his box and moments later was greeting Baroness Danglars, who couldn’t suppress a cry of mingled pleasure and surprise.

"Welcome, Count!" she exclaimed as he entered. "I’ve been so anxious to see you so I could express my thanks properly, written words are so inadequate."

"Surely such a minor matter doesn’t deserve remembering. Believe me, ma’am, I’d completely forgotten it."

"But it’s not so easy to forget, sir, that the very next day after your princely gift, you saved the life of my dear friend, Madame de Villefort, who was endangered by those very animals you generously gave me."

"This time at least, I don’t deserve your thanks. It was Ali, my African attendant, who saved Madame de Villefort."

"Was it Ali," asked the Count of Morcerf, "who rescued my son from bandits?"

"No, Count," Monte Cristo replied, taking the hand the general extended. "In that case, I can fairly accept your thanks. But you’ve already thanked me and fully repaid any debt, if one even existed, and I feel almost embarrassed that you keep bringing it up. May I request, Baroness, that you introduce me to your daughter?"

"Oh, you’re no stranger, at least by reputation," Madame Danglars replied. "These past few days we’ve talked of nothing but you. Eugénie," she continued, turning to her daughter, "this is the Count of Monte Cristo."

The count bowed while Mademoiselle Danglars inclined her head slightly.

"You have a charming young woman with you tonight, Count," said Eugénie. "Is she your daughter?"

"No, mademoiselle," Monte Cristo said, surprised by the coolness and directness of the question. "She’s an unfortunate Greek woman left in my care."

"Haydée," Monte Cristo replied.

"A Greek?" murmured the Count of Morcerf.

"Yes indeed, Count," said Madame Danglars. "Tell me, did you ever see at the court of Ali Pasha, whom you so gloriously and bravely served, a more exquisite beauty or richer costume?"

"Did I hear correctly, sir," said Monte Cristo, "that you served at Yanina?"

"I was inspector-general of the pasha’s troops," Morcerf replied. "It’s no secret that I owe my fortune, such as it is, to the generosity of that illustrious Albanian leader."

"But look!" exclaimed Madame Danglars.

"Where?" Morcerf stammered.

"There," said Monte Cristo, placing his arms around the count and leaning with him over the front of the box, just as Haydée, whose eyes had been searching the theater for her guardian, spotted his pale features next to Morcerf’s face.

It was as if the young woman had seen Medusa’s head. She leaned forward as though to confirm what she was seeing, then uttered a faint cry and threw herself back in her seat. The sound reached the people near Ali, who immediately opened the box door.

"Count!" exclaimed Eugénie. "What’s happened to your ward? She seems suddenly ill."

"Very probably," the count answered. "But don’t be alarmed. Haydée has a delicate nervous system and is extremely sensitive to scents, even flowers. Some cause her to faint. However," he continued, drawing a small bottle from his pocket, "I have an effective remedy."

With that, he bowed to the baroness and her daughter, exchanged parting handshakes with Debray and the count, and left Madame Danglars’s box.

When he returned to Haydée, he found her still very pale. As soon as she saw him, she seized his hand. Her own hands were moist and ice-cold.

"Who was that you were talking with?" she asked.

"The Count of Morcerf," Monte Cristo answered. "He tells me he served your illustrious father and owes his fortune to him."

"Monster!" Haydée exclaimed, her eyes flashing with rage. "He sold my father to the Turks! The fortune he boasts about was the price of his betrayal! Didn’t you know that, my lord?"

"I heard something about this in Epirus," Monte Cristo said, "but I don’t know the details. You must tell me, my child. I’m sure it’s both fascinating and important."

"Yes, yes, but let’s go. I feel like staying near that horrible man will kill me."

With that, Haydée rose and wrapped herself in her white cashmere cloak embroidered with pearls and coral. She hurried from the box just as the curtain was rising on the fourth act.

"Do you notice," said Countess G to Albert, who had returned to her side, "that man does nothing like other people? He listens devotedly to the third act, and when the fourth begins, he leaves."