Chapter 42 Monsieur Bertuccio
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MEANWHILE
the count had arrived at his house; it had taken him six minutes to
perform the distance, but these six minutes were sufficient to induce
twenty young men who knew the price of the equipage they had been unable
to purchase themselves, to put their horses in a gallop in order to see
the rich foreigner who could afford to give 20,000 francs apiece for his
horses. The house Ali had chosen, and which was to serve as a town
residence to Monte Cristo, was situated on the right hand as you ascend
the Champs Elysижes. A thick clump of trees and shrubs rose in the
centre, and masked a portion of the front; around this shrubbery two
alleys, like two arms, extended right and left, and formed a
carriage-drive from the iron gates to a double portico, on every step of
which stood a porcelain vase. filled with flowers. This house, isolated
from the rest, had, besides the main entrance, another in the Rue Ponthieu.
Even before the coachman had hailed the conciииrge,
the massy gates rolled on their hinges--they had seen the Count coming,
and at Paris, as everywhere else, he was served with the rapidity of
lightning. The coachman entered and traversed the half-circle without
slackening his speed, and the gates were closed ere the wheels had ceased
to sound on the gravel. The carriage stopped at the left side of the
portico, two men presented themselves at the carriage-window; the one was
Ali, who, smiling with an expression of the most sincere joy, seemed amply
repaid by a mere look from Monte Cristo. The other bowed respectfully, and
offered his arm to assist the count in descending. "Thanks, M.
Bertuccio," said the count, springing lightly up the three steps of
the portico; "and the notary?" "He
is in the small salon, excellency," returned Bertuccio. "And
the cards I ordered to be engraved as soon as you knew the number of the
house?" "Your
excellency, it is done already. I have been myself to the best engraver of
the Palais Royal, who did the plate in my presence. The first card struck
off was taken, according to your orders, to the Baron Danglars, Rue de la
Chaussижe d'Antin, No. 7; the others are
on the mantle-piece of your excellency's bedroom." "Good;
what o'clock is it?" "Four
o'clock." Monte Cristo gave his hat, cane, and gloves to the same
French footman who had called his carriage at the Count of Morcerf's, and
then he passed into the small salon, preceded by Bertuccio, who showed him
the way. "These are but indifferent marbles in this
ante-chamber," said Monte Cristo. "I trust all this will soon be
taken away." Bertuccio bowed. As the steward had said, the notary
awaited him in the small salon. He was a simple-looking lawyer's clerk,
elevated to the extraordinary dignity of a provincial scrivener. "You
are the notary empowered to sell the country house that I wish to
purchase, monsieur?" asked Monte Cristo. "Yes,
count," returned the notary. "Is
the deed of sale ready?" "Yes,
count." "Have
you brought it?" "Here
it is." "Very
well; and where is this house that I purchase?" asked the count
carelessly, addressing himself half to Bertuccio, half to the notary. The
steward made a gesture that signified, "I do not know." The
notary looked at the count with astonishment. "What!" said he,
"does not the count know where the house he purchases is
situated?" "No,"
returned the count. "The
count does not know?" "How
should I know? I have arrived from Cadiz this morning. I have never before
been at Paris, and it is the first time I have ever even set my foot in
France." "Ah,
that is different; the house you purchase is at Auteuil." At these
words Bertuccio turned pale. "And where is Auteuil?" asked the
count. "Close
by here, monsieur," replied the notary--"a little beyond Passy;
a charming situation, in the heart of the Bois de Boulogne." "So
near as that?" said the Count; "but that is not in the country.
What made you choose a house at the gates of Paris, M. Bertuccio?" "I,"
cried the steward with a strange expression. "His excellency did not
charge me to purchase this house. If his excellency will recollect--if he
will think"-- "Ah,
true," observed Monte Cristo; "I recollect now. I read the
advertisement in one of the papers, and was tempted by the false title, 'a
country house.'" "It
is not yet too late," cried Bertuccio, eagerly; "and if your
excellency will intrust me with the commission, I will find you a better
at Enghien, at Fontenay-aux-Roses, or at Bellevue." "Oh,
no," returned Monte Cristo negligently; "since I have this, I
will keep it." "And
you are quite right," said the notary, who feared to lose his fee.
"It is a charming place, well supplied with spring-water and fine
trees; a comfortable habitation, although abandoned for a long time,
without reckoning the furniture, which, although old, is yet valuable, now
that old things are so much sought after. I suppose the count has the
tastes of the day?" "To
be sure," returned Monte Cristo; "it is very convenient,
then?" "It
is more--it is magnificent." "Peste!
let us not lose such an opportunity," returned Monte Cristo.
"The deed, if you please, Mr. Notary." And he signed it rapidly,
after having first run his eye over that part of the deed in which were
specified the situation of the house and the names of the proprietors. "Bertuccio,"
said he, "give fifty-five thousand francs to monsieur." The
steward left the room with a faltering step, and returned with a bundle of
bank-notes, which the notary counted like a man who never gives a receipt
for money until after he is sure it is all there. "And now,"
demanded the count, "are all the forms complied with?" "All,
sir." "Have
you the keys?" "They
are in the hands of the conciииrge,
who takes care of the house, but here is the order I have given him to
install the count in his new possessions." "Very
well;" and Monte Cristo made a sign with his hand to the notary,
which said, "I have no further need of you; you may go." "But,"
observed the honest notary, "the count is, I think, mistaken; it is
only fifty thousand francs, everything included." "And
your fee?" "Is
included in this sum." "But
have you not come from Auteuil here?" "Yes,
certainly." "Well,
then, it is but fair that you should be paid for your loss of time and
trouble," said the count; and he made a gesture of polite dismissal.
The notary left the room backwards, and bowing down to the ground; it was
the first time he had ever met a similar client. "See this gentleman
out," said the count to Bertuccio. And the steward followed the
notary out of the room. Scarcely was the count alone, when he drew from
his pocket a book closed with a lock, and opened it with a key which he
wore round his neck, and which never left him. After having sought for a
few minutes, he stopped at a leaf which had several notes, and compared
them with the deed of sale, which lay on the table. "'Auteuil, Rue de
la Fontaine, No. 28;' it is indeed the same," said he; "and now,
am I to rely upon an avowal extorted by religious or physical terror?
However, in an hour I shall know all. Bertuccio!" cried he, striking
a light hammer with a pliant handle on a small gong. "Bertuccio!"
The steward appeared at the door. "Monsieur Bertuccio," said the
count, "did you never tell me that you had travelled in France?"
"In
some parts of France--yes, excellency." "You
know the environs of Paris, then?" "No,
excellency, no," returned the steward, with a sort of nervous
trembling, which Monte Cristo, a connoisseur in all emotions, rightly
attributed to great disquietude. "It
is unfortunate," returned he, "that you have never visited the
environs, for I wish to see my new property this evening, and had you gone
with me, you could have given me some useful information." "To
Auteuil!" cried Bertuccio, whose copper complexion became
livid--"I go to Auteuil?" "Well,
what is there surprising in that? When I live at Auteuil, you must come
there, as you belong to my service." Bertuccio hung down his head
before the imperious look of his master, and remained motionless, without
making any answer. "Why, what has happened to you?--are you going to
make me ring a second time for the carriage?" asked Monte Cristo, in
the same tone that Louis XIV pronounced the famous, "I have been
almost obliged to wait." Bertuccio made but one bound to the
ante-chamber, and cried in a hoarse voice--"His excellency's
horses!" Monte Cristo wrote two or three notes, and, as he sealed the
last, the steward appeared. "Your excellency's carriage is at the
door," said he. "Well,
take your hat and gloves," returned Monte Cristo. "Am
I to accompany you, your excellency?" cried Bertuccio. "Certainly,
you must give the orders, for I intend residing at the house." It was
unexampled for a servant of the count's to dare to dispute an order of
his, so the steward, without saying a word, followed his master, who got
into the carriage, and signed to him to follow, which he did, taking his
place respectfully on the front seat. |
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