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

Jove! – I’d like to ease your sorrow, but…’
    ‘Yes,’ said Caderousse. ‘Come now.’
    ‘My good friend,’ Danglars remarked, ‘you are three-quarters drunk: go the whole way and finish the bottle. Drink, but don’t interfere with our business, because you need a clear head for what we’re doing.’
    ‘Me? Drunk?’ said Caderousse. ‘Never! I could take another four of your bottles, which are no bigger than bottles of eau de Cologne. Père Pamphile! Bring us some wine!’
    And, to make the point, Caderousse banged his glass on the table.
    ‘You were saying, Monsieur?’ Fernand asked, impatient to hear what else Danglars had to tell him.
    ‘What was I saying? I don’t remember. This drunkard Caderousse has put it quite out of my mind.’
    ‘Drunkard if you like. A curse on those who fear wine: it’s because they have evil thoughts and they are afraid that wine will loosen their tongues.’
    Caderousse began to sing the last two lines of a song which was much in vogue at the time:
The Flood proved it beyond a doubt:
All wicked men do water drink. 1

    ‘You were saying, Monsieur,’ Fernand continued, ‘that you’d like to ease my sorrow, but you added…’
    ‘Ah, yes. But I added that… to give you satisfaction, it is enough for Dantès not to marry the one you love. And this marriage, it seems to me, could very well not take place, even if Dantès does not die.’
    ‘Only death will separate them,’ said Fernand.
    ‘You have the brains of an oyster, my friend,’ said Caderousse.‘And Danglars here, who is a sharp one, crafty as a Greek, will prove you wrong. Do it, Danglars. I’ve stuck up for you. Tell him that Dantès doesn’t have to die. In any case, it would be a pity if he died. He’s a good lad, Dantès. I like him. Your health, Dantès.’
    Fernand rose impatiently to his feet.
    ‘Let him babble,’ Danglars said, putting a hand on the young man’s arm. ‘And, for that matter, drunk as he is, he is not so far wrong. Absence separates as effectively as death; so just suppose that there were the walls of a prison between Edmond and Mercédès: that would separate them no more nor less than a tombstone.’
    ‘Yes, but people get out of prison,’ said Caderousse, who was gripping on to the conversation with what remained of his wits. ‘And when you get out of prison and you are called Edmond Dantès, you take revenge.’
    ‘What does that matter!’ said Fernand.
    ‘In any event,’ Caderousse continued, ‘why should they put Dantès in prison? He hasn’t stolen anything, killed anyone, committed any murder.’
    ‘Shut up,’ said Danglars.
    ‘I don’t want to shut up,’ said Caderousse. ‘I want to know why they should put Dantès in prison. I like Dantès. Dantès! Your health!’
    He poured back another glass of wine.
    Danglars assessed the extent of the tailor’s drunkenness from his dull eyes, and turned towards Fernand.
    ‘So, do you understand that there is no need to kill him?’ he said.
    ‘No, surely not if, as you said a moment ago, there was some means of having Dantès arrested. But do you have such a means?’
    ‘If we look,’ Danglars answered, ‘we can find one. But, dammit, why should this concern me? What business is it of mine?’
    ‘I don’t know why it should concern you,’ Fernand said, grasping his arm. ‘What I do know is that you have some private animosity against Dantès: a man who feels hated cannot be mistaken about that feeling in others.’
    ‘I? Have some reason to hate Dantès? None, I swear. I saw that you were unhappy and took an interest in your unhappiness, that’s all. But if you are going to imagine that I am acting on my own behalf, then farewell, my good friend. You can manage for yourself.’ Here Danglars himself made as if to get up.
    ‘No, stay!’ said Fernand. ‘When it comes down to it, it’s of no matter to me whether you have some bone to pick with Dantès ornot; I do, and I freely admit it. Find the means