Free The Count of Monte Cristo (Unabridged Penguin) by Alexandre Dumas

studying his face now to see if the blow had been premeditated; but he saw nothing except covetousness on this face, already almost besotted with drink.
    ‘Very well,’ he said, filling the glasses. ‘Then let’s drink to Captain Edmond Dantès, husband of the beautiful Catalan!’
    Caderousse lifted his glass to his lips with a sluggish hand and drained it in one gulp. Fernand took his and dashed it to the ground.
    ‘Ha, ha!’ said Caderousse. ‘What can I see over there, on the crest of the hill, coming from the Catalan village? You look, Fernand, your eyesight is better than mine. I think I’m starting to see less clearly and, as you know, wine is a deceptive imp: it looks to me like two lovers walking along, side by side and hand in hand. Heaven forgive me! They don’t realize that we can see them and, look at that, they’re kissing each other!’
    Danglars marked every single trait of the anguish that crossed Fernand’s face, as its features changed before his eyes.
    ‘Do you know who they are, Monsieur Fernand?’ he asked.
    ‘Yes,’ the other replied dully. ‘It’s Monsieur Edmond and Mademoiselle Mercédès.’
    ‘There! You see?’ said Caderousse. ‘I didn’t recognize them. Hey, Dantès! Hey, there, pretty girl! Come down for a moment and let us know when the wedding is: Fernand here is so stubborn, he won’t tell us.’
    ‘Why don’t you be quiet!’ said Danglars, pretending to restrain Caderousse who, with drunken obstinacy, was leaning out of the arbour. ‘Try to stay upright and let the lovers enjoy themselves in peace. Why, look at Monsieur Fernand: he’s being sensible. Why not try and do the same?’
    It may be that Fernand, driven to the limit and baited by Danglars like a bull by the banderilleros, would finally have leapt forward, for he had already stood up and appeared to be gathering strength to throw himself at his rival; but Mercédès, upright and laughing, threw back her lovely head and shot a glance from her clear eyes. At that moment, Fernand recalled her threat to die if Edmond should die, and slumped back, discouraged, on his chair.
    Danglars looked at the two men, one besotted by drink, the other enslaved by love, and murmured: ‘I shall get nothing out of these idiots: I fear I am sitting between a drunkard and a coward. On the one hand, I have a man eaten up by envy, drowning his sorrows in drink when he should be intoxicated with venom; on the other, a great simpleton whose mistress has just been snatched away from under his very nose, who does nothing except weep like a child and feel sorry for himself. And yet he has the blazing eyes of a Spaniard, a Sicilian or a Calabrian – those people who are such experts when it comes to revenge – and fists that would crush a bull’s head as surely as a butcher’s mallet. Fate is definitely on Edmond’s side: he will marry the beautiful girl, become captain and laugh in our faces. Unless…’ (a pallid smile hovered on Danglars’ lips) ‘… unless I take a hand in it.’
    Caderousse, half standing, with his fists on the table, was still shouting: ‘Hello, there! Hello! Edmond! Can’t you see your friends, or are you too proud to talk to them?’
    ‘No, my dear Caderousse,’ Edmond replied. ‘I am not proud, but I am happy – and happiness, I believe, is even more dazzling than pride.’
    ‘At last, all is explained,’ said Caderousse. ‘Ho! Good day to you, Madame Dantès.’
    Mercédès bowed gravely and said: ‘That is not yet my name, and in my country they say it is bad luck to call a young woman by the name of her betrothed before he has become her husband. So, please, call me Mercédès.’
    ‘You must forgive my good neighbour, Caderousse,’ Dantès said. ‘He so seldom makes a mistake!’
    ‘So, the wedding is to take place shortly, Monsieur Dantès?’ Danglars said, greeting the two young people.
    ‘As soon as possible, Monsieur Danglars. Today, everything is to be agreed at my father’s