LET US LEAVE the banker driving his horses at their fullest speed, and follow Madame Danglars in her morning excursion. We have said that at half-past twelve o'clock Madame Danglars had ordered her horses, and had left home in the carriage. She directed her course towards the Faubourg Saint Germain, went down the Rue¹ Mazarine, and stopped at the Passage du Pont-Neuf. She descended², and went through the passage. She was very plainly dressed, as would be the case with a woman of taste walking in the morning. At the Rue Guénégaud she called a cab, and directed the driver to go to the Rue de Harlay. As soon as she was seated in the vehicle, she drew from her pocket a very thick black veil, which she tied on to her straw bonnet³. She then replaced the bonnet, and saw with pleasure, in a little pocket-mirror, that her white complexion⁴ and brilliant eyes were alone visible. The cab crossed the Pont-Neuf and entered the Rue de Harlay by the Place Dauphiné; the driver was paid as the door opened, and stepping lightly up the stairs Madame Danglars soon reached the Salle des Pas-Perdus.

There was a great deal going on that morning, and many business-like persons at the Palais; business-like persons pay very little attention to women, and Madame Danglars crossed the hall without exciting any more attention than any other woman calling upon her lawyer. There was a great press of people in M. de Villefort's ante-chamber, but Madame Danglars had no occasion even to pronounce her name. The instant she appeared the door-keeper rose, came to her, and asked her whether she was not the person with whom the procureur had made an appointment; and on her affirmative answer being given, he conducted her by a private passage to M. de Villefort's office. The magistrate⁵ was seated in an arm-chair, writing, with his back towards the door; he did not move as he heard it open, and the door-keeper pronounce the words, "Walk in, madame," and then reclose it; but no sooner had the man's footsteps ceased, than he started up, drew the bolts, closed the curtains, and examined every corner of the room. Then, when he had assured himself that he could neither be seen nor heard, and was consequently relieved of doubts, he said,--"Thanks, madame,--thanks for your punctuality; "and he offered a chair to Madame Danglars, which she accepted, for her heart beat so violently that she felt nearly suffocated⁶.

"It is a long time, madame," said the procureur, describing a half-circle with his chair, so as to place himself exactly opposite to Madame Danglars,--"it is a long time since I had the pleasure of speaking alone with you, and I regret that we have only now met to enter upon a painful conversation."

"Nevertheless, sir, you see I have answered your first appeal, although certainly the conversation must be much more painful for me than for you." Villefort smiled bitterly.

"It is true, then," he said, rather uttering his thoughts aloud than addressing his companion,--"it is true, then, that all our actions leave their traces--some sad, others bright--on our paths; it is true that every step in our lives is like the course of an insect on the sands;--it leaves its track! Alas⁷, to many the path is traced by tears."

"Sir," said Madame Danglars, "you can feel for my emotion, can you not? Spare me, then, I beseech⁸ you. When I look at this room,--whence so many guilty creatures have departed, trembling and ashamed, when I look at that chair before which I now sit trembling and ashamed,--oh, it requires all my reason to convince me that I am not a very guilty woman and you a menacing judge." Villefort dropped his head and sighed. "And I," he said, "I feel that my place is not in the judge's seat, but on the prisoner's stool."

"You?" said Madame Danglars.

"Yes, I."

"I think, sir, you exaggerate your situation," said Madame Danglars, whose beautiful eyes sparkled for a moment. "The paths of which you were just speaking have been traced by all young men of ardent⁹ imaginations. Besides the pleasure, there is always remorse¹⁰ from the indulgence of our passions, and, after all, what have you men to fear from all this? the world excuses, and notoriety ennobles you."

"Madame," replied Villefort, "you know that I am no hypocrite, or, at least, that I never deceive without a reason. If my brow be severe, it is because many misfortunes have clouded it; if my heart be petrified¹¹, it is that it might sustain the blows it has received. I was not so in my youth, I was not so on the night of the betrothal¹², when we were all seated around a table in the Rue du Cours at Marseilles. But since then everything has changed in and about me; I am accustomed to brave difficulties, and, in the conflict to crush those who, by their own free will, or by chance, voluntarily or involuntarily, interfere¹⁴ with me in my career. It is generally the case that what we most ardently¹⁵ desire is as ardently withheld¹⁶ from us by those who wish to obtain it, or from whom we attempt to snatch it. Thus, the greater number of a man's errors come before him disguised under the specious¹⁷ form of necessity; then, after error has been committed in a moment of excitement, of delirium¹⁸, or of fear, we see that we might have avoided and escaped it. The means we might have used, which we in our blindness could not see, then seem simple and easy, and we say, 'Why did I not do this, instead of that?' Women, on the contrary, are rarely tormented¹⁹ with remorse; for the decision does not come from you,--your misfortunes are generally imposed upon you, and your faults the results of others' crimes."

"In any case, sir, you will allow," replied Madame Danglars, "that, even if the fault were alone mine, I last night received a severe punishment for it."

"Poor thing," said Villefort, pressing her hand, "it was too severe for your strength, for you were twice overwhelmed, and yet"--

"Well?"

"Well, I must tell you. Collect all your courage, for you have not yet heard all."

"Ah," exclaimed Madame Danglars, alarmed, "what is there more to hear?"

"You only look back to the past, and it is, indeed, bad enough. Well, picture to yourself a future more gloomy still--certainly frightful²⁰, perhaps sanguinary." The baroness²¹ knew how calm Villefort naturally was, and his present excitement frightened her so much that she opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her throat. "How has this terrible past been recalled?" cried Villefort; "how is it that it has escaped from the depths of the tomb and the recesses²² of our hearts, where it was buried, to visit us now, like a phantom²³, whitening our cheeks and flushing our brows with shame?"

"Alas," said Hermine, "doubtless it is chance."

"Chance?" replied Villefort; "No, no, madame, there is no such thing as chance."

"Oh, yes; has not a fatal chance revealed all this? Was it not by chance the Count of Monte Cristo bought that house? Was it not by chance he caused the earth to be dug up? Is it not by chance that the unfortunate child was disinterred under the trees?--that poor innocent offspring of mine, which I never even kissed, but for whom I wept many, many tears. Ah, my heart clung to the count when he mentioned the dear spoil found beneath the flowers."

"Well, no, madame,--this is the terrible news I have to tell you," said Villefort in a hollow voice--"no, nothing was found beneath the flowers; there was no child disinterred--no. You must not weep, no, you must not groan²⁴, you must tremble!"

"What can you mean?" asked Madame Danglars, shuddering²⁶.

"I mean that M. de Monte Cristo, digging underneath²⁷ these trees, found neither skeleton nor chest, because neither of them was there!"

"Neither of them there?" repeated Madame Danglars, her staring, wide-open eyes expressing her alarm.

"Neither of them there!" she again said, as though striving to impress herself with the meaning of the words which escaped her.

"No," said Villefort, burying his face in his hands, "no, a hundred times no!"

"Then you did not bury the poor child there, sir? Why did you deceive me? Where did you place it? tell me--where?"

"There! But listen to me--listen--and you will pity me who has for twenty years alone borne the heavy burden of grief I am about to reveal, without casting the least portion upon you."

"Oh, you frighten me! But speak; I will listen."

"You recollect²⁸ that sad night, when you were half-expiring on that bed in the red damask room, while I, scarcely less agitated²⁹ than you, awaited your delivery. The child was born, was given to me--motionless, breathless, voiceless; we thought it dead." Madame Danglars moved rapidly, as though she would spring from her chair, but Villefort stopped, and clasped his hands as if to implore³⁰ her attention. "We thought it dead," he repeated; "I placed it in the chest, which was to take the place of a coffin³¹; I descended to the garden, I dug a hole, and then flung it down in haste. Scarcely had I covered it with earth, when the arm of the Corsican was stretched towards me; I saw a shadow rise, and, at the same time, a flash of light. I felt pain; I wished to cry out, but an icy shiver ran through my veins³² and stifled³³ my voice; I fell lifeless, and fancied myself killed. Never shall I forget your sublime³⁴ courage, when, having returned to consciousness, I dragged myself to the foot of the stairs, and you, almost dying yourself, came to meet me. We were obliged to keep silent upon the dreadful catastrophe³⁵. You had the fortitude³⁶ to regain³⁷ the house, assisted by your nurse. A duel³⁸ was the pretext³⁹ for my wound. Though we scarcely expected it, our secret remained in our own keeping alone. I was taken to Versailles; for three months I struggled with death; at last, as I seemed to cling to life, I was ordered to the South. Four men carried me from Paris to Chalons, walking six leagues a day; Madame de Villefort followed the litter in her carriage. At Chalons I was put upon the Saone, thence I passed on to he Rhone, whence I descended, merely with the current, to Arles; at Arles I was again placed on my litter, and continued my journey to Marseilles. My recovery lasted six months. I never heard you mentioned, and I did not dare inquire for you. When I returned to Paris, I learned that you, the widow of M. de Nargonne, had married M. Danglars.

"What was the subject of my thoughts from the time consciousness returned to me? Always the same--always the child's corpse⁴⁰, coming every night in my dreams, rising from the earth, and hovering⁴¹ over the grave with menacing look and gesture. I inquired immediately on my return to Paris; the house had not been inhabited since we left it, but it had just been let for nine years. I found the tenant⁴². I pretended that I disliked the idea that a house belonging to my wife's father and mother should pass into the hands of strangers. I offered to pay them for cancelling the lease; they demanded 6,000 francs. I would have given 10,000--I would have given 20,000. I had the money with me; I made the tenant sign the deed of resilition, and when I had obtained what I so much wanted, I galloped⁴³ to Auteuil.

"No one had entered the house since I had left it. It was five o'clock in the afternoon; I ascended⁴⁴ into the red room, and waited for night. There all the thoughts which had disturbed me during my year of constant agony came back with double force. The Corsican, who had declared the vendetta⁴⁵ against me, who had followed me from N?mes to Paris, who had hid himself in the garden, who had struck me, had seen me dig the grave, had seen me inter¹³ the child,--he might become acquainted with your person,--nay, he might even then have known it. Would he not one day make you pay for keeping this terrible secret? Would it not be a sweet revenge for him when he found that I had not died from the blow of his dagger⁴⁶? It was therefore necessary, before everything else, and at all risks, that I should cause all traces of the past to disappear--that I should destroy every material vestige⁴⁷; too much reality would always remain in my recollection. It was for this I had annulled⁴⁸ the lease--it was for this I had come--it was for this I was waiting. Night arrived; I allowed it to become quite dark. I was without a light in that room; when the wind shook all the doors, behind which I continually expected to see some spy concealed⁴⁹, I trembled. I seemed everywhere to hear your moans behind me in the bed, and I dared not turn around. My heart beat so violently that I feared my wound would open. At length, one by one, all the noises in the neighborhood ceased. I understood that I had nothing to fear, that I should neither be seen nor heard, so I decided⁵⁰ upon descending⁵¹ to the garden.

"Listen, Hermine; I consider myself as brave as most men, but when I drew from my breast the little key of the staircase, which I had found in my coat--that little key we both used to cherish so much, which you wished to have fastened to a golden ring--when I opened the door, and saw the pale moon shedding a long stream of white light on the spiral staircase like a spectre, I leaned against the wall, and nearly shrieked⁵³. I seemed to be going mad. At last I mastered my agitation⁵⁴. I descended the staircase step by step; the only thing I could not conquer was a strange trembling in my knees. I grasped the railings; if I had relaxed my hold for a moment, I should have fallen. I reached the lower door. Outside this door a spade was placed against the wall; I took it, and advanced towards the thicket⁵⁵. I had provided myself with a dark lantern. In the middle of the lawn I stopped to light it, then I continued my path.

"It was the end of November, all the verdure of the garden had disappeared, the trees were nothing more than skeletons with their long bony arms, and the dead leaves sounded on the gravel⁵⁶ under my feet. My terror overcame me to such a degree as I approached the thicket, that I took a pistol from my pocket and armed myself. I fancied continually that I saw the figure of the Corsican between the branches. I examined the thicket with my dark lantern; it was empty. I looked carefully around; I was indeed alone,--no noise disturbed the silence but the owl⁵⁷, whose piercing cry seemed to be calling up the phantoms⁵⁸ of the night. I tied my lantern to a forked branch I had noticed a year before at the precise spot where I stopped to dig the hole.

"The grass had grown very thickly there during the summer, and when autumn arrived no one had been there to mow⁵⁹ it. Still one place where the grass was thin attracted my attention; it evidently was there I had turned up the ground. I went to work. The hour, then, for which I had been waiting during the last year had at length arrived. How I worked, how I hoped, how I struck every piece of turf, thinking to find some resistance to my spade! But no, I found nothing, though I had made a hole twice as large as the first. I thought I had been deceived--had mistaken the spot. I turned around, I looked at the trees, I tried to recall the details which had struck me at the time. A cold, sharp wind whistled through the leafless branches, and yet the drops fell from my forehead. I recollected⁶⁰ that I was stabbed just as I was trampling⁶¹ the ground to fill up the hole; while doing so I had leaned against a laburnum; behind me was an artificial rockery, intended to serve as a resting-place for persons walking in the garden; in falling, my hand, relaxing its hold of the laburnum, felt the coldness of the stone. On my right I saw the tree, behind me the rock. I stood in the same attitude, and threw myself down. I rose, and again began digging and enlarging the hole; still I found nothing, nothing--the chest was no longer there!"

"The chest no longer there?" murmured Madame Danglars, choking with fear.

Think not I contented⁶² myself with this one effort," continued Villefort. "No; I searched the whole thicket. I thought the assassin, having discovered the chest, and supposing it to be a treasure, had intended carrying it off, but, perceiving his error, had dug another hole, and deposited it there; but I could find nothing. Then the idea struck me that he had not taken these precautions, and had simply thrown it in a corner. In the last case I must wait for daylight to renew my search. I remained the room and waited."

"Oh, heavens!"

When daylight dawned I went down again. My first visit was to the thicket. I hoped to find some traces which had escaped me in the darkness. I had turned up the earth over a surface of more than twenty feet square, and a depth of two feet. A laborer⁶³ would not have done in a day what occupied me an hour. But I could find nothing--absolutely nothing. Then I renewed the search. Supposing it had been thrown aside, it would probably be on the path which led to the little gate; but this examination was as useless as the first, and with a bursting heart I returned to the thicket, which now contained no hope for me."

"Oh," cried Madame Danglars, "it was enough to drive you mad!"

"I hoped for a moment that it might," said Villefort; "but that happiness was denied me. However, recovering my strength and my ideas, 'Why,' said I, 'should that man have carried away the corpse?'"

"But you said," replied Madame Danglars, "he would require it as a proof."

"Ah, no, madame, that could not be. Dead bodies are not kept a year; they are shown to a magistrate, and the evidence is taken. Now, nothing of the kind has happened."

"What then?" asked Hermine, trembling violently.

"Something more terrible, more fatal, more alarming for us--the child was, perhaps, alive, and the assassin may have saved it!"

Madame Danglars uttered a piercing cry, and, seizing Villefort's hands, exclaimed, "My child was alive?" said she; "you buried my child alive? You were not certain my child was dead, and you buried it? Ah"--

Madame Danglars had risen, and stood before the procureur, whose hands she wrung⁶⁴ in her feeble grasp. "I know not; I merely suppose so, as I might suppose anything else," replied Villefort with a look so fixed⁶⁵, it indicated that his powerful mind was on the verge⁶⁶ of despair and madness. "Ah, my child, my poor child!" cried the baroness, falling on her chair, and stifling⁶⁷ her sobs⁶⁸ in her handkerchief. Villefort, becoming somewhat reassured⁶⁹, perceived that to avert⁷⁰ the maternal⁷¹ storm gathering⁷² over his head, he must inspire Madame Danglars with the terror he felt. "You understand, then, that if it were so," said he, rising in his turn, and approaching the baroness, to speak to her in a lower tone, "we are lost. This child lives, and some one knows it lives--some one is in possession of our secret; and since Monte Cristo speaks before us of a child disinterred, when that child could not be found, it is he who is in possession of our secret."

"Just God, avenging⁷³ God!" murmured Madame Danglars.

Villefort's only answer was a stifled groan.

"But the child--the child, sir?" repeated the agitated mother.

"How I have searched for him," replied Villefort, wringing⁷⁴ his hands; "how I have called him in my long sleepless⁷⁵ nights; how I have longed for royal wealth to purchase a million of secrets from a million of men, and to find mine among them! At last, one day, when for the hundredth time I took up my spade, I asked myself again and again what the Corsican could have done with the child. A child encumbers⁷⁶ a fugitive⁷⁷; perhaps, on perceiving it was still alive, he had thrown it into the river."

"Impossible!" cried Madame Danglars: "a man may murder another out of revenge, but he would not deliberately⁷⁸ drown a child."

"Perhaps," continued Villefort, "he had put it in the foundling hospital."

"Oh, yes, yes," cried the baroness; "my child is there!"

"I ran to the hospital, and learned that the same night--the night of the 20th of September--a child had been brought there, wrapped in part of a fine linen⁷⁹ napkin, purposely torn in half. This portion of the napkin was marked with half a baron's crown, and the letter H."

"Truly, truly," said Madame Danglars, "all my linen is marked thus; Monsieur de Nargonne was a baronet, and my name is Hermine. Thank God, my child was not then dead!"

"No, it was not dead."

"And you can tell me so without fearing to make me die of joy? Where is the child?" Villefort shrugged⁸⁰ his shoulders. "Do I know?" said he; "and do you believe that if I knew I would relate to you all its trials and all its adventures as would a dramatist or a novel writer? Alas, no, I know not. A woman, about six months after, came to claim it with the other half of the napkin. This woman gave all the requisite⁸¹ particulars, and it was intrusted to her."

"But you should have inquired for the woman; you should have traced her."

"And what do you think I did? I feigned⁸² a criminal process, and employed all the most acute bloodhounds and skilful⁸³ agents in search of her. They traced her to Chalons, and there they lost her."

"They lost her?"

"Yes, forever." Madame Danglars had listened to this recital⁸⁴ with a sigh, a tear, or a shriek⁵² for every detail. "And this is all?" said she; "and you stopped there?"

"Oh, no," said Villefort; "I never ceased to search and to inquire. However, the last two or three years I had allowed myself some respite⁸⁵. But now I will begin with more perseverance⁸⁶ and fury than ever, since fear urges me, not my conscience."

"But," replied Madame Danglars, "the Count of Monte Cristo can know nothing, or he would not seek our society as he does."

"Oh, the wickedness of man is very great," said Villefort, "since it surpasses the goodness of God. Did you observe that man's eyes while he was speaking to us?"

"No."

"But have you ever watched him carefully?"

"Doubtless he is capricious, but that is all; one thing alone struck me,--of all the exquisite⁸⁷ things he placed before us, he touched nothing. I might have suspected he was poisoning us."

"And you see you would have been deceived."

"Yes, doubtless."

"But believe me, that man has other projects. For that reason I wished to see you, to speak to you, to warn you against every one, but especially against him. Tell me," cried Villefort, fixing his eyes more steadfastly⁸⁸ on her than he had ever done before, "did you ever reveal to any one our connection?"

"Never, to any one."

"You understand me," replied Villefort, affectionately; "when I say any one,--pardon my urgency,--to any one living I mean?"

"Yes, yes, I understand very well," ejaculated the baroness; "never, I swear to you."

"Were you ever in the habit of writing in the evening what had transpired⁸⁹ in the morning? Do you keep a journal?"

"No, my life has been passed in frivolity⁹⁰; I wish to forget it myself."

"Do you talk in your sleep?"

"I sleep soundly, like a child; do you not remember?" The color mounted to the baroness's face, and Villefort turned awfully⁹¹ pale.

"It is true," said he, in so low a tone that he could hardly be heard.

"Well?" said the baroness.

"Well, I understand what I now have to do," replied Villefort. "In less than one week from this time I will ascertain⁹² who this M. de Monte Cristo is, whence he comes, where he goes, and why he speaks in our presence of children that have been disinterred in a garden." Villefort pronounced these words with an accent which would have made the count shudder²⁵ had he heard him. Then he pressed the hand the baroness reluctantly gave him, and led her respectfully back to the door. Madame Danglars returned in another cab to the passage, on the other side of which she found her carriage, and her coachman sleeping peacefully on his box while waiting for her.

我们暂且撇开驱马疾驰回家的那位银行家不谈，来跟踪一下腾格拉尔夫人的晨游。我们在前面已经说过，腾格拉尔夫人在十二点半的时候吩咐套车备马，要出门。她驱车顺着圣·日尔曼路折入了玛柴林街，在奈夫巷口下了车，穿过了那条小巷。她的穿着非常朴素，很象是一个喜欢早晨出门的普通女子。她在琪尼茄路叫了一辆出租马车，吩咐驱车到哈莱路去。一坐进车厢里，她就从口袋里摸出一块极厚的黑色面纱，绑在她的草帽上。然后她戴上帽子，掏出一面小镜子照了照，发觉所能看到的只有她那雪白的皮肤和那一对明亮的眼睛，心里觉得很高兴。那辆出租马车穿过了奈夫大道，从道芬广场转入了哈莱路。车门一打开，车费便已到了车夫手里，腾格拉尔夫人轻捷地踏上楼梯，不久便到了高等法院的大厅里。

那天早晨有一件大案子要开庭审理，法院里有许多忙忙碌碌的人。人们极少去注意女人，所以腾格拉尔夫人穿过大厅的时候，并没人惹起多大的注意。维尔福先生的候见室里挤着一大堆人，但腾格拉尔夫人却连姓名也不必通报。她一出现，接待员便立刻起身向她迎上来，问她是不是检察官约见的那个人，她作了一个肯定的表示，于是他就领她从一条秘密甬道走进了维尔福先生的办公室。那位法官正坐在一张圈椅里，背对着门，正在那儿写什么东西。听到门打开的声音，接着又听到声“请进，夫人，”然后又听到门关上的声音，他都没有动；但一到那个人的脚步声消失以后，他就立刻跳起身来，闩上门，拉上窗帘，检查一下房间的每一个角落。然后，当他确定决不会有人看到或听到时，才放下心来，他说道：“谢谢，夫人——谢谢您准时到来。”他递了一张椅子给腾格拉尔夫人，她接受了，因为她的心此时跳得非常厉害，几乎快要窒息了。

“夫人，”检察官把椅子转过来半圈，使自己和腾格拉尔夫人面对面，“夫人，我有很久没有享受到和您单独叙谈的愉快了，而我们这次相见，却是要作一番痛苦的谈话，我很感抱歉。”

“可是，阁下，您看，你一约我，我就来了，尽管对于这次谈话，我肯定比您要痛苦得多。”

维尔福苦笑了一下。“那么，古人说得没错了，”他说道，他这时倒象是在朗诵他心里的念头，而不象在对他的同伴讲话，“那么，古人说得没错了，我们的种种举动都在我们的人生道路上留下了它们的痕迹——有伤心，有欢乐！那么，古人说得没错：我们在人生道路上的每一个脚步都象在一片沙上爬行的昆虫一样——都留下了痕迹！唉！有很多人，在那条路上留下的痕迹是眼泪滴成的呵。”

“阁下，”腾格拉尔夫人说道，“您可以想象得出我现在的心情，是吗？那么，别让我受这种折磨了吧，我求求您了！当我望着这个房间的时候，我想到，曾有多少罪人含羞带愧，浑身战栗地离开这儿，而当我望着我现在所坐的这张椅子的时候，我又想到有多少人曾含羞带愧，浑身战栗地站在它的前面——噢！我必须用我的全部理智，才能使自己相信我并不是一个罪恶的女人，而您也不是一个气势汹汹的法官。”

维尔福低头叹了一口气。“而我，”他说，“我觉得我不是坐在法官的审判席上，而是坐在犯人的凳子上。”

“您？”腾格拉尔夫人惊愕地说道。

“是的，我。”

“我想，阁下，你未免律己太严，把情形夸大了吧，”腾格拉尔夫人那双美丽的眼睛一时间闪烁了一下。”您刚才所说的那种道路，凡是热情的青年，都是曾经历过的。当我们沉溺在热情里的时候，除了快乐，总会觉得有些懊丧，福音书上曾为此举出了许多可歌可泣的例子，以改邪归正末安慰我们——我们这些可怜的女人。所以，我可以说，每当回忆起我们年轻时代的那些荒唐行为时，有时候，我想上帝已经宽恕了那些事了，因为我们所遭受的种种痛苦即使不能使我们免罪，但或许也可以赎罪的。但您——你们男人，社会人士是从来不会责怪你们的，愈多受非议愈能抬高你们的身份——您为什么要为那种事愁苦呢？”

“夫人，”维尔福答道，“您知道我不是伪君子，或至少我从不毫无理由地自己骗自己。假如说我的额头上杀气太重的话，那是因为那上面凝聚着许多不幸；假如说我的心已经僵化，那是因为只有这样才能经得住所遭受的打击。我在年轻的时候并不是这样的。在我订婚的那天晚上，当我们大家围坐在马赛高碌路侯爵府的桌子旁边时，我并不是这样的。但从那时起，我周围和内心的一切都改变了，我已习惯于抵抗困难，已习惯于在斗争中打垮那些有意或无意、自动或被动来挡住我的路的人。照一般的情形来说，凡是我们所最热切希望得到的东西，也就是旁人最热切希望阻止我们获得或阻止我们抢夺的东西。因此，人类的过失，在未犯之前，总觉得自己有很正当的理由，是必需这么做的，于是，在一时的兴奋、迷乱或恐惧之下，过错铸成了。而在出了错以后，我们才看到它本来是可以避免的。我们本来可以用某种很正当的手段的，但那种手段我们事先却一点都看不到，只有事后却似乎觉得很简单容易，于是我们就说：‘我为什么要这样做而不那样做呢？’女人却恰恰相反，女人很少吃后悔药——因为事情并不是由你们决定的，你们的不幸通常都是别人加到你们身上来的，而你们的过失也几乎总是别人造成的。”

“可是无论如何，阁下，您大概可以承认，”腾格拉尔夫人答道，“即使那件事全是我一个人的错，昨天晚上我也已经受到了一次严重的惩罚。”

“可怜的女人！”维尔福紧握着她的手说道，“这的确不是您所能受得了的，因为您已经受到两次严重的打击了。可是——”

“怎么？”

“嗯，我必须告诉您。鼓起您的全部勇气，因为您还没有走完那条路。”

“天哪！腾格拉尔夫人惊惶地大声叫道，“还有什么呢？”

“您只是回顾过去，过去的确是坏极了。嗯，可是您不得不为将来画一幅更可怕的画面，或许会更惨！”

男爵夫人知道维尔福一向克己镇定，但目前这种激动的情绪使她感到非常惊怕，她张开嘴想大声呼喊，但那个喊声刚一升到她的喉咙里便又哽住了。

“这件可怕的往事是怎么被唤醒的？”维尔福大声说道，“它本来已被埋葬在我们内心的深处，现在它怎么又象一个幽灵似的从坟墓里逃了出来，重新来拜访我们，吓白了我们的面颊，羞红了我们的额头？”

“唉！”爱米娜说，“毫无疑问只是碰巧而已！”

“碰巧！”维尔福答道，“不，不，夫人，世界上根本没有碰巧这种东西！”

“噢，有的。这一切难道不都是碰巧发生的吗？难道基督山伯爵不是碰巧买了那座房子？难道他不是碰巧去挖那个花园？难道不是碰巧在那棵树底下挖出了那个不幸的孩子的尸体？——我那可怜的无辜的孩子，我甚至连吻都没吻过他。为了他，我流过多少眼泪啊！啊，当伯爵提到他在花丛底下挖到我那宝贝的残骸的时候，我的心都跟着他去了。”

“哦，不，夫人！我要告诉您的正是这个可怕的消息，”维尔福用一种深沉的语调说道。“不，花丛底下根本什么东西都没有。那儿根本没有什么孩子的尸体。不，您不必再为此哭泣了，您也不必唉声叹气了，您该发抖才是！”

“您这是什么意思？”腾格拉尔夫人问道，不禁打了一个寒颤。

“我的意思是：基督山先生在树丛底下挖掘的时候，并没有找到什么骸骨或箱子，因为那儿根本没有这两样东西！”

“根本没有这两样东西！”腾格拉尔夫人惊恐地睁大了眼睛，死盯着维尔福。“根本没有这两样东西！”她又说了一遍，象是要用自己的声音抓住这句话，深怕它逃走似的。

“没有！”维尔福把脸埋在双手里，说道，“没有！根本什么都没有！”

“那么您没把那可怜的孩子埋在那个地方了，阁下？您为什么要骗我——为什么？喂，请说呀！”

“我把它埋在了那个地方！您听我说，您听完以后就会可怜我的，因为二十年来，我始终一个人忍受着这份煎熬，丝毫没有让您来分担，但现在我不得不讲出来了。”

“我的上帝，您真的吓坏我啦！快点讲吧，我想听。”

“您还记得那个悲惨的晚上吧，您在那个挂红缎窗帘的房间里躺在床上奄奄一息的时候，我，则怀着和您同样激动不安的心情，等待着您的分娩。孩子生下来了，交给了我，他不会动，不会哭，也不会呼吸，我们以为他死了。”腾格拉尔夫人做了一个吃惊的动作，象是要从椅子上跳起来似的。维尔福急忙止住了她，紧握着她的双手，象是在请求她注意倾听似的。“我们以为他死了，”他重复说道。“我就拿了一只箱子暂且代替棺材，把他放到了里面，我下楼到了花园里，挖了一个洞，匆匆地埋了那只箱子。我刚把土盖上，那个科西嘉人的胳膊便向我伸了过来，我看到一个影子猛地跳出来，同时看到亮光一闪。我便只觉得一阵疼痛，我想喊叫，但一股冰一般的寒颤穿过我的血管，窒息了我的声音，我昏死了过去，我以为自己已经被杀死了。当我恢复知觉以后，我一丝半气地拖着自己爬到了楼梯脚下，您尽管自己已累得精疲力尽，但仍在那儿接我。我永远忘不了您那种崇高的勇气。我们不得不对那次可怕的灾祸保持缄默。您以坚忍不拔的精神，在您的护士的照料下回到了您的家里。我的受伤算是一场决斗的结果。尽管我们本来也知道这个秘密很难保守，但我们还是保守住了。我被带回到凡尔赛，和死神挣扎了三个月。最后，我似乎到了生命的边缘，我被送到南部去了。四个人把我从巴黎抬到了夏龙，每天只走十八里路。维尔福夫人坐着马车跟在担架后面。到了夏龙以后，我就乘船从索恩河转入罗纳河，顺流漂到阿尔，到了阿尔，我又被放到担架上，继续向马赛前进。我养了六个月的伤才痊愈。我始终没有听人说起过您，我也不敢向人打听您的消息。当我回到巴黎的时候，我才打听到，您，奈刚尼先生的未亡人，已经嫁给腾格拉尔先生了。

“自从我恢复知觉以后，我心里所想的？始终只有一样东西——即是那孩子的尸体。他每天晚上在我的梦中出现，从地底下爬起来，气势汹汹地盘旋在坟墓的上空。我一回到巴黎，就立刻去打听。自从我们离开以后，那座房子还没有住过人，但它刚租了出去，租期是九年。我找到那个租户。我假装说我不愿意我岳父母的房子落到外人手里。我请他们转让出来。他们提出要六千法郎。就是要一万两我也得给，我是带着钱去的。我叫那租户在退租契约上签了字，获得了那张我非常需要的东西以后，我就马上疾驰到了欧特伊。自从我离开以后，还没有一个人踏进过那座房子。那时是下午五点钟，我上楼走进那个挂红色窗帘的房间，等待着天黑。那时，我一年来在精神上受极大痛苦的种种念头都同时钻上心来。那个科西嘉人，他曾发誓要向我为亲复仇，他曾从尼姆跟踪我到了巴黎，他曾躲在花园里，他曾袭击了我，曾看到过我掘那个坟，曾看到过我埋那个孩子，他或许会去打听您是什么人——不，他或许甚至在当时就已经知道了。将来有一天，难道他不会以此要挟来敲诈您吗？当他发觉我并没有被他刺死的时候，这不是他最方便的报复方法吗？所以，最最重复的事情，是我应该不惜冒任何危险来把过去的一切痕迹都抹掉。我应该抹掉一切能看到的形迹，在我的脑海里，这一切所留下的记忆太真实了。我就是为了这个原因才要取消那租约；并来到这里在房间里等待着。夜晚来临了，我一直等到深夜。我没在那个房间里点灯。当风吹得那些门窗哗啦作响的时候，我发抖了，我随时都准备会在门背后发现一个躲藏着的人。我似乎处处都听到您在我身后的床上呻吟，我不敢回头去看。我的心跳异常的猛烈，以致我竟怕我的伤口会爆裂开来。终于，所有的这些声音都一一沉寂了下去。我知道我没什么可怕的了，没有人会看到或听到我，于是我决定下楼到花园里去。

“听着，爱米娜！我认为自己的勇气并不比一般人差，我从上衣口袋里摸出那把开楼梯门的小钥匙。我们以前是怎么珍视那把小钥匙，您还曾希望把它拴在一只金戒指上呢。当我打开那扇门，看到苍白的月光泄到那座象鬼怪似的螺旋形楼梯上的时候，我一下子靠到了墙上，几乎失声大叫起来。我似乎快要发疯了。但我终于控制住了自己激动的情绪。我一步一步地走下楼梯，我唯一无法克服的就是我的双腿不停地在发抖。我紧紧地抓住了栏杆，只要我一松手，就会摔下去。我走到下面门口。在这扇门外，有一把铲子靠在墙上，我拿了它向树丛走去。我带着一盏遮光灯笼。到了草坪中央，我把它点了起来，然后继续向前走。

“当时是十一月底。花园里已毫无生气，树木只剩了一些长条枝子，石子路上的枯叶在我的脚下索索作响。我害怕极了，当我走近树丛的时候，我甚至从口袋里摸出了一把手枪来给自己壮胆。我好象觉得时时都能在树枝丛中看到那个科西嘉人的影子。我提着遮光灯笼去检查树丛，树丛里什么也没有。我四下里看了看，的确只有我一个人。猫头鹰在凄厉地啼叫着，象是在召唤黑夜里的游魂，除了它的哀诉以外，再没有别的声音来扰乱这里的寂静了。我把灯笼挂在一条树枝上，我注意到这正是我一年前掘洞的地方。经过一个夏天的时间，草已长得非常茂密了，秋天到了，也没人去除掉它。可是，有一块地方的草比较稀疏，这吸引了我的注意。这显然就是我以前挖掘的地方。我开始工作起来。我期待了一年的时刻终于到了。我非常用力地工作，怀着急切的希望，使劲地一铲一铲地掘下去，以为我的铲子会碰到某种东西。但是没有，我什么也没找到，虽然我所掘的洞比以前大了两倍。我以为自己弄错了地点。我转回身来，望着树丛，极力回忆当时的各种情形。一阵尖厉的冷风呼啸着穿过无叶的树枝，汗从我的额头上冒了出来。我记得被刺的时候我正在往洞里填泥土。我一面踩，一面扶着一棵假乌木树。我的身后有一块供散步时休息用的假山石。在倒下去的时候，我的手松开了树，曾碰到了那块冰凉的石头。我看到右面是那棵树，身后仍旧是那块石头。我站到以前那个位置上，故意倒下去试一试。我爬起来，重新开始挖掘，并扩大了那个洞，可是我依旧什么也没找到，什么都没有。那只箱子不见了！”

“那只箱子不见了！”腾格拉尔夫人低声惊叫道，吓得呼吸几乎都停止了。

“别以为这样一次就算完了，”维尔福继续说。“不，我把整个树丛都搜索了一遍。我想，那个刺客看到这只箱子，或许以为那是一箱宝物，想把它偷走。在发觉了真象以后，就另外掘了一个洞把它埋了起来，但树丛里什么也没有。于是我突然想到，他不会这样小心，只是把它抛在一个角落里去了。如果是这样，我必须等到天亮以后才能去找。于是我又回到了房间里去等候。”

“天哪！”

“天亮的时候，我又下去了。我首先去看了一下那个树丛。希望能找到一些在黑暗中疏忽过去的痕迹。我挖了一片二十呎见方、两呎多深的地面。一个工人一天都干不完的工作，我在一小时内就完成了。但我什么也没找到——绝对什么也没有。于是我根据那只箱子被抛在某个角落里的假定，开始去搜寻。要是果真抛在某个角落里，大概就在那条通小门去的路上，但仍然毫无结果。我带着一颗爆裂的心回到了树丛里，现在我对树丛已不再抱有什么希望了。”

“噢，”腾格拉尔夫人大声说道，“这已足以使您发疯了！”

“我当时也曾这样希望，”维尔福说，“但我并不那么走运。总之，当我的精力恢复过来的时候，我就说：‘那人为什么要把死尸偷走呢？’”

“您曾说，”腾格拉尔夫人答道，“他需要把他当作一种证据，不是吗？”

“啊不，夫人，那是没法做到。尸体是不能保存一年的，只要把他拿给法官看过，证据就成立了。但那种事并没有发生。”

“那么又怎么样了呢？”爱米娜浑身索索地发着抖问道。

“我们要遇到一件更可怕、更致命、更令人惊惶的事情了！那孩子当初也许还活着，是那个刺客救了他！”

腾格拉尔夫人发出一声尖锐的喊叫，抓住了维尔福的双手。“我的孩子是活着的！”她说，“您活埋了我的孩子，阁下！您没有确定我的孩子是否真的死了，就把他埋了！啊——”

腾格拉尔夫人这时已经站了起来，带着一种近乎威胁的表情挺立在检察官前面，检察官的双手依旧被握在她那软弱的手掌里。

“我怎么知道呢？我只是这样猜想，我也可以猜想别的情形。”维尔福回答，眼睛呆瞪瞪的，说明那强有力的头脑已到了绝望和疯狂的边缘了。

“啊，我的孩子，我那可怜的孩子！”男爵夫人大声说道。

她又一下子倒在椅子里，用手帕捂着嘴啜泣起来。

维尔福竭力恢复了他的理智，他觉得要转变当前这场母性风波，就必须以他自己所感到的恐怖来启发腾格拉尔夫人，他凑近了一步，压低了声音对她说，“我们完啦。这个孩子是活着的，有一个人知道他是活着的。那个人因此而掌握着我们的秘密。既然基督山对我们说他挖掘出一个孩子的尸体，而实际上那个孩子是根本不可能挖掘到的，所以，掌握我们秘密的那个人就是他。”

“天哪！天哪！”腾格拉尔夫人喃喃地说道。

维尔福声含糊的呻吟了一声。

“那个孩子——那个孩子呢？”那激动的母亲追问。

“您不知道我曾经是怎样地找过他！”维尔福紧握着自己的双手回答。“您不知道我在那些无法入睡的长夜里曾怎样地呼唤他！您不知道我是多么渴望自己能富甲王侯，以便从一百万人里去买到一百万个秘密，希望在其中找到我所需要的消息！后来，有一天，当我第一百次拿起那把铲子的时候，我又再三自问，究竟那个科西嘉人把那孩子怎么样了。一个孩子会连累一个亡命者的，或许他觉察到他还活着，就把他抛到河里去了。”

 

“嗯，是的，是的！”男爵夫人喊道，“我的孩子肯定在那儿！”

“我急忙赶到了医院，深知那天晚上，即九月二十日的晚上，的确曾有人送了一个孩子到那儿，他是裹在一张特意对半撕开的麻纱餐巾里送去的，在那一半餐巾上，有半个男爵的纹章和一个Ｈ字。”

“对呀！”腾格拉尔夫人喊道，“我的餐巾上都有这种标记。奈刚尼先生是一个男爵，而我的名字叫爱米娜。感谢上帝！我的孩子没死！”

“没有，他没死。”

“您告诉了我这么好的消息，不怕把我乐死吗，阁下？他在哪儿？我的孩子在哪儿？”

维尔福耸了耸肩。“我怎么知道呢？”他说道，“假如我知道的话，您难道以为我还会象一个作家或小说家那样，把这件事从头到尾都详详细细地描述给您听吗？唉，不，我不知道，大概六个月以后，一个女人带着另外那半块餐巾来要求把孩子领回去。这个女人所讲的情形一点都不错，于是他们就让她领了回去。”

“您应该去探访那个女人，您应该去跟踪追寻她。”

“您以为我当时在干什么，夫人？我假装说要调查一桩案子，发动了所有最机警的密探和干员去搜索她。他们跟踪她到了夏龙，但到了夏龙以后，就失踪了。”

“他们没能找到她？”

“是的，再也没找到。”

腾格拉尔夫人在听这一番追述的时候，时而叹息，时而流泪，时而惊呼。“这就完了吗？”她说，“您就到那一步为止了吗？”

“不，不！”维尔福说，“我从来没停止过搜索和探问。可是，最近两三年来，我略微松懈了一点。但现在我应当更坚决勇猛地来重新调查。您不久就会看到我的成功，因为现在驱使我的已不再是良心，而是恐惧。”

“但是，”腾格拉尔夫人回答说，“基督山伯爵是不可能知道的，否则他就不会来和我们交往了。”

“噢，人心难测啊”维尔福说，“因为人的恶超过了上帝的善。您有没有注意到那人对我们讲话时的那种眼光？”

“没有。”

“但您总仔细观察过他吧？”

“那当然罗。他很古怪，但仅此而已。我注意到一点，就是他放在我们面前那些珍馐美味，他自己一点都不尝一下，他总是吃另外一个碟子里的东西。”

“是的，是的！”维尔福说，“我也注意到了那一点，假如我当时知道了现在所知道的一切，我就什么都不会吃的，我会以为他想毒死我们。”

“您知道您猜错了。”

“是的，那是毫无疑问的，但相信我吧，那人还有别的阴谋。就为了这个，我才要求见您一面，跟您谈一谈，并提醒您要小心提防每一个人，尤其要防着他。告诉我，”维尔福的目光极坚定地盯住她，大声问道，“您是否曾向别人泄漏过我们的关系？”

“没有，从来没有。”

“您懂我的意思吗？”维尔福恳切地说，“当我说别人的时候，请恕我急不择言，我的意思是指世界上的任何人。”

“是的，是的，很明白，”男爵夫人面红耳赤地说，“从来没有，我向您发誓。”

“您有没有把白天发生的事在晚上记录下来的那种习惯？您有日记本？”

“没有，唉！我的生活毫无意义。我希望自己能忘掉它。”

“您说不说梦话？”

“我睡觉的时候象个小孩子一样，您不记得了吗？”男爵夫人的脸上泛起了红晕，而维尔福却脸色变白了。

“这倒是真的。”他说道，声音低得连他自己都难于听到。

“怎么？”男爵夫人说。

“嗯，我知道现在该怎么办了，”维尔福回答。“从现在起，一个星期之内，我就可以弄清楚这位基督山先生到底是谁，他从哪儿来，要到哪儿去，为什么他要对我们说他在花园里挖到孩子的尸体。”

维尔福说这几句话时的语气，要是伯爵听到了，一定会打个寒颤的。他吻了一下男爵夫人不太情愿地伸给他的那只手，恭恭敬敬地领她到门口。腾格拉尔夫人另外雇了一辆出租马车到了巷口，在那条小巷的另一端找到了自己的马车，她的车夫正安安稳稳地睡在座位上等她。

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