"You have seen that he would have thrown his glove in my face if Morrel, one of my friends, had not stopped him.""Listen to me, my son has also guessed who you are, -- he attributes his father's misfortunes to you.""Madame, you are mistaken, they are not misfortunes, -- it is a punishment.It is not I who strike M.de Morcerf; it is providence which punishes him.""And why do you represent providence?" cried Mercedes."Why do you remember when it forgets? What are Yanina and its vizier to you, Edmond? What injury his Fernand Mondego done you in betraying Ali Tepelini?""Ah, madame," replied Monte Cristo, "all this is an affair between the French captain and the daughter of Vasiliki.It does not concern me, you are right; and if I have sworn to revenge myself, it is not on the French captain, or the Count of Morcerf, but on the fisherman Fernand, the husband of Mercedes the Catalane.""Ah, sir!" cried the countess, "how terrible a vengeance for a fault which fatality made me commit! -- for I am the only culprit, Edmond, and if you owe revenge to any one, it is to me, who had not fortitude to bear your absence and my solitude.""But," exclaimed Monte Cristo, "why was I absent? And why were you alone?""Because you had been arrested, Edmond, and were a prisoner.""And why was I arrested? Why was I a prisoner?""I do not know," said Mercedes."You do not, madame; at least, I hope not.But I will tell you.I was arrested and became a prisoner because, under the arbor of La Reserve, the day before I was to marry you, a man named Danglars wrote this letter, which the fisherman Fernand himself posted." Monte Cristo went to a secretary, opened a drawer by a spring, from which he took a paper which had lost its original color, and the ink of which had become of a rusty hue -- this he placed in the hands of Mercedes.It was Danglars' letter to the king's attorney, which the Count of Monte Cristo, disguised as a clerk from the house of Thomson & French, had taken from the file against Edmond Dantes, on the day he had paid the two hundred thousand francs to M.de Boville.Mercedes read with terror the following lines: --"The king's attorney is informed by a friend to the throne and religion that one Edmond Dantes, second in command on board the Pharaon, this day arrived from Smyrna, after having touched at Naples and Porto-Ferrajo, is the bearer of a letter from Murat to the usurper, and of another letter from the usurper to the Bonapartist club in Paris.Ample corroboration of this statement may be obtained by arresting the above-mentioned Edmond Dantes, who either carries the letter for Paris about with him, or has it at his father's abode.Should it not be found in possession of either father or son, then it will assuredly be discovered in the cabin belonging to the said Dantes on board the Pharaon.""How dreadful!" said Mercedes, passing her hand across her brow, moist with perspiration; "and that letter" --"I bought it for two hundred thousand francs, madame," said Monte Cristo; "but that is a trifle, since it enables me to justify myself to you.""And the result of that letter" --
"You well know, madame, was my arrest; but you do not know how long that arrest lasted.You do not know that I remained for fourteen years within a quarter of a league of you, in a dungeon in the Chateau d'If.You do not know that every day of those fourteen years I renewed the vow of vengeance which I had made the first day; and yet I was not aware that you had married Fernand, my calumniator, and that my father had died of hunger!""Can it be?" cried Mercedes, shuddering.
"That is what I heard on leaving my prison fourteen years after I had entered it; and that is why, on account of the living Mercedes and my deceased father, I have sworn to revenge myself on Fernand, and -- I have revenged myself.""And you are sure the unhappy Fernand did that?""I am satisfied, madame, that he did what I have told you;besides, that is not much more odious than that a Frenchman by adoption should pass over to the English; that a Spaniard by birth should have fought against the Spaniards; that a stipendiary of Ali should have betrayed and murdered Ali.
Compared with such things, what is the letter you have just read? -- a lover's deception, which the woman who has married that man ought certainly to forgive; but not so the lover who was to have married her.Well, the French did not avenge themselves on the traitor, the Spaniards did not shoot the traitor, Ali in his tomb left the traitor unpunished; but I, betrayed, sacrificed, buried, have risen from my tomb, by the grace of God, to punish that man.He sends me for that purpose, and here I am." The poor woman's head and arms fell; her legs bent under her, and she fell on her knees."Forgive, Edmond, forgive for my sake, who love you still!"The dignity of the wife checked the fervor of the lover and the mother.Her forehead almost touched the carpet, when the count sprang forward and raised her.Then seated on a chair, she looked at the manly countenance of Monte Cristo, on which grief and hatred still impressed a threatening expression."Not crush that accursed race?" murmured he;"abandon my purpose at the moment of its accomplishment?
Impossible, madame, impossible!"
"Edmond," said the poor mother, who tried every means, "when I call you Edmond, why do you not call me Mercedes?""Mercedes!" repeated Monte Cristo; "Mercedes! Well yes, you are right; that name has still its charms, and this is the first time for a long period that I have pronounced it so distinctly.Oh, Mercedes, I have uttered your name with the sigh of melancholy, with the groan of sorrow, with the last effort of despair; I have uttered it when frozen with cold, crouched on the straw in my dungeon; I have uttered it, consumed with heat, rolling on the stone floor of my prison.