VII. L'interrogatoire.

VII

The Interrogation.

Scarcely had Villefort left the dining room than he dropped his cheerful mask to assume the grave air of a man called to that supreme function of pronouncing upon the life of his fellow man. Now, despite the mobility of his features—a mobility which the deputy, like a skilled actor should, had more than once studied before his mirror—this time it was a labor for him to knit his brow and darken his countenance. Indeed, apart from the memory of that political line followed by his father, which, if he did not wholly depart from it, might deflect his future, Gérard de Villefort was at that moment as happy as it is given a man to be; already rich through his own means, he held at twenty-seven a high position in the magistracy, he was marrying a young and beautiful woman whom he loved, not passionately, but reasonably, as a deputy of the king's attorney may love, and besides her beauty, which was remarkable, Mlle de Saint-Méran, his betrothed, belonged to one of the best-connected families of the time; and besides the influence of her father and mother, who, having no other child, could devote it entirely to their son-in-law, she also brought to her husband a dowry of fifty thousand crowns, which, thanks to expectations—that atrocious word invented by marriage brokers—might one day be increased by an inheritance of half a million.

All these elements combined thus composed for Villefort a total of dazzling felicity, to such a degree that it seemed to him he saw spots on the sun, when he had long regarded his inner life with the eye of the soul.

At the door, he found the police commissioner waiting for him. The sight of the man in black at once brought him down from the heights of the third heaven to the material earth upon which we walk; he composed his face, as we have said, and approaching the officer of the law:

"Here I am, sir," he said to him; "I have read the letter, and you did well to arrest that man; now give me all the details you have gathered concerning him and the conspiracy."

"As for the conspiracy, sir, we know nothing yet; all the papers seized from him have been bound in a single packet, and deposited sealed upon your desk. As for the accused, you saw him through the very letter that denounces him: he is one named Edmond Dantès, mate of the three-master the _Pharaon_, trading in cotton with Alexandria and Smyrna, and belonging to the house of Morrel and Son, of Marseille."

"Before serving in the merchant marine, had he served in the navy?"

"Oh! no, sir; he is a very young man."

"How old?"

"Nineteen or twenty at most."

At this moment, and as Villefort, following the Grande-Rue, had arrived at the corner of the rue des Conseils, a man who seemed to be waiting for him accosted him: it was M. Morrel.

"Ah! M. de Villefort!" cried the worthy man on seeing the deputy; "I am very happy to meet you. Just imagine that the strangest, most unheard-of mistake has been made: they have just arrested the mate of my vessel, Edmond Dantès."

"I know it, sir," said Villefort; "I am coming to interrogate him."

"Oh! sir," continued M. Morrel, carried away by his friendship for the young man, "you do not know the man they accuse, and I know him; imagine the gentlest, the most upright of men, and I would almost dare say the man who best knows his trade of all the merchant marine. Oh! M. de Villefort, I recommend him to you most sincerely and with all my heart."

Villefort, as may have been seen, belonged to the noble party of the town, and Morrel to the plebeian party; the first was an ultra-royalist, the second was suspected of covert Bonapartism. Villefort looked disdainfully at Morrel, and answered him coldly:

"You know, sir, that one may be gentle in private life, upright in one's commercial relations, skilled in one's trade, and yet be a great criminal, politically speaking; you know that, do you not, sir?"

And the magistrate stressed these last words, as if he would apply them to the shipowner himself; while his searching glance seemed to wish to penetrate to the bottom of the heart of this man bold enough to intercede for another, when he must know that he himself stood in need of indulgence.

Morrel reddened, for he did not feel his conscience wholly clear as to political opinions; and moreover the confidence Dantès had given him regarding his interview with the grand marshal and the few words the Emperor had addressed to him somewhat troubled his mind. He added, however, with the accent of the deepest interest:

"I beseech you, M. de Villefort, be just as you must be, kind as you always are, and give us back poor Dantès very soon!"

The "give us back" sounded revolutionary to the ear of the deputy of the king's attorney.

"Eh! eh!" he said to himself softly; "give us back... is this Dantès affiliated to some carbonari sect, that his protector uses thus, without thinking, the collective formula? He was arrested in a tavern, the commissioner told me, I believe; in numerous company, he added: it will be some vendita."

Then aloud:

"Sir," he replied, "you may be perfectly at ease, and you will not have made an useless appeal to my justice if the accused is innocent; but if, on the contrary, he is guilty, we live in a difficult time, sir, when impunity would be of fatal example: I shall therefore be forced to do my duty."

And thereupon, as he had arrived at the door of his house backed against the palace of justice, he entered majestically, after saluting with icy politeness the unhappy shipowner, who remained petrified in the place where Villefort had left him.

The antechamber was full of gendarmes and police agents; in their midst, under close guard, enveloped in flaming glances of hatred, stood upright, calm and motionless, the prisoner.

Villefort crossed the antechamber, cast an oblique glance at Dantès, and, after taking a packet which an agent handed him, disappeared, saying:

"Let the prisoner be brought in."

Swift as that glance had been, it had sufficed Villefort to form an idea of the man he was about to interrogate: he had recognized intelligence in that broad and open brow, courage in that steady eye and knit brow, and frankness in those thick, half-open lips, which showed a double row of teeth white as ivory.

The first impression had been favorable to Dantès; but Villefort had so often heard it said, as a word of profound policy, that one must distrust one's first impulse, since it was the good one, that he applied the maxim to the impression, without regard to the difference between the two words.

He stifled, then, the good instincts that would have invaded his heart to lay siege thence to his mind, arranged before the mirror his great-day face, and sat down, somber and threatening, before his desk.

An instant after him, Dantès entered.

The young man was still pale, but calm and smiling; he saluted his judge with an easy politeness, then sought a seat with his eyes, as if he had been in the salon of the shipowner Morrel.

It was only then that he met that dull gaze of Villefort, that gaze peculiar to men of the courts, who will not have their thought read, and who make of their eye a frosted glass. That gaze taught him he was before justice, a figure of gloomy manners.

"Who are you and what is your name?" said Villefort, turning over those notes which the agent had handed him on entering, and which for an hour already had become voluminous, so quickly does the corruption of espionage attach itself to that unhappy body called the accused.

"I am called Edmond Dantès, sir," answered the young man in a calm and sonorous voice; "I am mate of the vessel the _Pharaon_, which belongs to Messrs. Morrel and Son."

"Your age?" continued Villefort.

"Nineteen years," replied Dantès.

"What were you doing at the moment you were arrested?"

"I was attending the meal of my own betrothal, sir," said Dantès in a slightly moved voice, so painful was the contrast between those moments of joy and the lugubrious ceremony then accomplishing, so brightly did the somber face of M. de Villefort make the radiant countenance of Mercédès shine.

"You were attending the meal of your betrothal?" said the deputy, trembling in spite of himself.

"Yes, sir; I am about to marry a woman whom I have loved for three years."

Villefort, impassive as he ordinarily was, was nevertheless struck by this coincidence, and that moved voice of Dantès, surprised in the midst of his happiness, went to awaken a sympathetic fiber in the depths of his soul: he too was marrying, he too was happy, and they came to trouble his happiness so that he might help destroy the joy of a man who, like him, already touched upon happiness.

"This philosophical parallel," he thought, "will make a great effect on my return to the salon of M. de Saint-Méran"; and he arranged beforehand in his mind, while Dantès awaited further questions, the antithetical words by means of which orators construct those ambitious phrases of applause which sometimes make one believe in a veritable eloquence.

When his little inward speech was arranged, Villefort smiled at its effect, and returning to Dantès:

"Continue, sir," he said.

"What would you have me continue?"

"To enlighten justice."

"Let justice tell me upon what point it wishes to be enlightened, and I will tell it all I know; only," he added in his turn with a smile, "I warn it that I know very little."

"Have you served under the usurper?"

"I was about to be incorporated into the military navy when he fell."

"They say your political opinions are exaggerated," said Villefort, to whom no one had breathed a word of this, but who was not displeased to pose the question as one poses an accusation.

"My political opinions, mine, sir? Alas! it is almost shameful to say, but I have never had what is called an opinion: I am scarcely nineteen years old, as I have had the honor to tell you; I know nothing, I am destined to play no role; the little that I am and shall be, if I am granted the post I aspire to, I shall owe to M. Morrel. Thus all my opinions, I will not say political, but private, are limited to these three sentiments: I love my father, I respect M. Morrel, and I adore Mercédès. That is all, sir, that I can say to justice; you see it is little interesting to it."

As Dantès spoke, Villefort looked at his face at once so gentle and so open, and felt returning to his memory the words of Renée, who, without knowing him, had asked his indulgence for the accused. With the habit the deputy already had of crime and criminals, he saw, at each word of Dantès, proof of his innocence arise. Indeed, this young man, one might almost say this child, simple, natural, eloquent with that eloquence of the heart which is never found when sought, full of affection for all, because he was happy, and happiness renders the wicked themselves good, poured even upon his judge the sweet affability that overflowed from his heart; Edmond had in his glance, in his voice, in his gesture, however rough and severe Villefort had been toward him, only caresses and kindness for him who interrogated him.

"By Jove," said Villefort to himself, "here is a charming fellow, and I shall not have much trouble, I hope, in making myself well regarded by Renée by accomplishing the first recommendation she made me: that will earn me a good handshake before everyone and a charming kiss in a corner."

And at this sweet hope Villefort's face brightened; so that, when he turned his gaze from his thought to Dantès, Dantès, who had followed all the changes of countenance of his judge, smiled like his thought.

"Sir," said Villefort, "do you know of any enemies you have?"

"Enemies of mine," said Dantès; "I have the happiness to be too insignificant for my position to have made me any. As for my character, perhaps a little quick, I have always tried to soften it toward my subordinates. I have ten or twelve sailors under my orders; let them be questioned, sir, and they will tell you they love and respect me, not as a father, I am too young for that, but as an elder brother."

"But, for lack of enemies, perhaps you have some jealous ones: you are about to be named captain at nineteen, which is a high post in your trade; you are about to marry a pretty woman who loves you, which is a rare happiness in all the estates of the earth; these two preferences of destiny may have made you enviers."

"Yes, you are right. You must know men better than I, and that is possible; but if these enviers should be among my friends, I confess I would rather not know them so as not to be forced to hate them."

"You are wrong, sir. One must always, as much as possible, see clearly around one; and, in truth, you seem to me such a worthy young man, that I am going to depart from the ordinary rules of justice for your sake and help you bring the light forth by communicating to you the denunciation that brings you before me: here is the accusing paper; do you recognize the writing?"

And Villefort drew the letter from his pocket and presented it to Dantès. Dantès looked and read. A cloud passed over his brow, and he said:

"No, sir, I do not know this writing; it is disguised, and yet it is of a fairly frank form. In any case, it is a skillful hand that traced it. I am very happy," he added, looking at Villefort with gratitude, "to have to do with a man such as you, for indeed my envier is a true enemy."

And at the flash that passed in the young man's eyes in pronouncing these words, Villefort could distinguish all that there was of violent energy hidden beneath that first gentleness.

"And now, let us see," said the deputy, "answer me frankly, sir, not as an accused to his judge, but as a man in a false position answers another man who takes an interest in him: what is true in this anonymous accusation?"

And Villefort threw with disgust upon the desk the letter Dantès had just returned to him.

"All and nothing, sir, and here is the pure truth, upon my honor as a sailor, upon my love for Mercédès, upon the life of my father.

"Speak, sir," said Villefort aloud.

Then softly he added:

"If Renée could see me, I hope she would be pleased with me, and would no longer call me a head-cutter!"

"Well, on leaving Naples, Captain Leclère fell ill of a cerebral fever; as we had no doctor on board and he would not put in at any point of the coast, being pressed to go to the island of Elba, his illness worsened to the point that toward the end of the third day, feeling he was about to die, he called me to him.

"'My dear Dantès,' he said to me, 'swear to me upon your honor to do what I am about to tell you; the highest interests are at stake.'

"'I swear it to you, captain,' I answered him.

"'Well, as after my death the command of the vessel belongs to you, in your capacity as mate, you will take that command, you will set course for the island of Elba, you will land at Porto-Ferrajo, you will ask for the grand marshal, you will give him this letter: perhaps then he will give you another letter and charge you with some mission. This mission that was reserved for me, Dantès, you will accomplish in my place, and all the honor shall be yours.'

"'I will do it, captain, but perhaps one does not arrive so easily as you think near the grand marshal.'

"'Here is a ring that you will contrive to give him,' said the captain, 'and which will remove all difficulties.'

"And with these words, he gave me a ring.

"It was time: two hours later delirium seized him; the next day he was dead.

"And what did you do then?"

"What I ought to do, sir, what anyone else would have done in my place: in any case, the prayers of a dying man are sacred; but, among sailors, the prayers of a superior are orders that one must accomplish. I therefore set sail for the island of Elba, where I arrived the next day; I kept everyone on board and went ashore alone. As I had foreseen, some difficulty was made in introducing me to the grand marshal; but I sent him the ring which was to serve me as a sign of recognition, and all doors opened before me. He received me, questioned me upon the last circumstances of the death of the unhappy Leclère, and, as the latter had foreseen, he gave me a letter which he charged me to carry in person to Paris. I promised him, for it was accomplishing the last wishes of my captain. I went ashore, I rapidly settled all the ship's affairs; then I ran to see my betrothed, whom I found more beautiful and more loving than ever. Thanks to M. Morrel, we got over all the ecclesiastical difficulties; finally, sir, I was attending, as I told you, the meal of my betrothal, I was about to marry within an hour, and I counted on departing tomorrow for Paris, when, upon this denunciation which you now seem to despise as much as I, I was arrested."

"Yes, yes," murmured Villefort, "all that seems to me to be the truth, and, if you are guilty, it is through imprudence; moreover this imprudence was legitimized by your captain's orders. Give me back this letter that was given you at the island of Elba, give me your word to appear at the first requisition, and go rejoin your friends."

"So I am free, sir!" cried Dantès, at the height of joy.

"Yes, only give me that letter."

"It must be before you, sir; for it was taken from me with my other papers, and I recognize some of them in that packet."

"Wait," said the deputy to Dantès, who was taking his gloves and hat; "wait; to whom is it addressed?"

"_To M. Noirtier, rue Coq-Héron, Paris_."

The thunderbolt fallen upon Villefort would not have struck him with a more rapid and unforeseen blow; he fell back into his armchair, from which he had half-risen to reach the packet of papers seized from Dantès, and, turning over its pages precipitately, he drew from it the fatal letter upon which he cast a glance imprinted with an unspeakable terror.

"M. Noirtier, rue Coq-Héron, no. 13," he murmured, growing paler and paler.

"Yes, sir," answered Dantès, astonished; "do you know him?"

"No," replied Villefort quickly; "a faithful servant of the king does not know conspirators."

"It is then a matter of a conspiracy?" asked Dantès, who, after believing himself free, began to feel a terror greater than the first. "In any case, sir, I told you, I was completely ignorant of the contents of the dispatch of which I was the bearer."

"Yes," resumed Villefort in a hollow voice; "but you knew the name of him to whom it was addressed!"

"To deliver it to himself, sir, I had to know it."

"And you have shown this letter to no one?" said Villefort, all the while reading and growing pale as he read.

"To no one, sir, upon my honor!"

"Everyone is ignorant that you were bearer of a letter coming from the island of Elba and addressed to M. Noirtier?"

"Everyone, sir, except him who gave it me."

"It is too much, it is still too much!" murmured Villefort.

Villefort's brow darkened more and more as he advanced toward the end; his white lips, his trembling hands, his ardent eyes made pass into Dantès's mind the most painful apprehensions. After this reading, Villefort let his head fall into his hands, and remained a moment overwhelmed.

"Oh my God! what then is the matter, sir?" asked Dantès timidly.

Villefort did not answer; but at the end of a few instants he raised his pale and disordered head, and read the letter a second time.

"And you say you do not know what this letter contained?" resumed Villefort.

"Upon my honor, I repeat, sir," said Dantès, "I am ignorant of it. But what ails you yourself, my God! you are going to be ill; do you wish me to ring, do you wish me to call?"

"No, sir," said Villefort, rising quickly; "do not move, do not say a word: it is for me to give orders here, and not for you."

"Sir," said Dantès, hurt, "it was to come to your aid, that is all."

"I need nothing; a passing dizziness, that is all; attend to yourself and not to me, answer."

Dantès awaited the interrogation announced by this demand, but in vain: Villefort fell back into his armchair, passed a icy hand over his brow streaming with sweat, and for the third time set about rereading the letter.

"Oh! if he knows what this letter contains," he murmured, "and ever learns that Noirtier is the father of Villefort, I am lost, lost forever!"

And from time to time he looked at Edmond, as if his gaze could break that invisible barrier which encloses in the heart the secrets the mouth keeps.

"Oh! let us doubt it no longer!" he cried suddenly.

"But, in the name of Heaven, sir!" cried the unhappy young man, "if you doubt me, if you suspect me, interrogate me, and I am ready to answer you."

Villefort made a violent effort upon himself, and in a tone he wished to render assured:

"Sir," he said, "the gravest charges result for you from your interrogation; I am therefore not master, as I had at first hoped, to restore you to liberty this instant; I must, before taking such a measure, consult the examining magistrate. Meanwhile, you have seen in what manner I have acted toward you."

"Oh! yes, sir," cried Dantès, "and I thank you, for you have been to me rather a friend than a judge."

"Well, sir, I am going to keep you prisoner here some time longer, as short a time as I can; the principal charge that exists against you is this letter, and you see..."

Villefort approached the fireplace, threw it into the fire, and remained until it was reduced to ashes.

"And you see," he continued, "I annihilate it."

"Oh!" cried Dantès, "sir, you are more than justice, you are goodness!"

"But; listen to me," pursued Villefort, "after such an act, you understand that you may have confidence in me, do you not?"

"Oh! sir! command and I will follow your orders."

"No," said Villefort, approaching the young man; "no, it is not orders I wish to give you; you understand, they are counsels."

"Say, and I will conform to them as to orders."

"I am going to keep you here until this evening, at the palace of justice; perhaps someone other than I will come to interrogate you: tell all that you have told me, but not a word of this letter."

"I promise you, sir."

It was Villefort who seemed to entreat, it was the accused who reassured the judge.

"You understand," he said, casting a glance at the ashes, which still preserved the form of the paper, and which fluttered above the flames; "now, this letter is annihilated, you and I alone know it existed; it will not be shown to you again: deny it then if they speak to you of it, deny it boldly and you are saved."

"I will deny it, sir, be at ease," said Dantès.

"Good, good!" said Villefort, putting his hand to a bell-cord.

Then stopping at the moment of ringing:

"It was the only letter you had?" he said.

"The only one."

"Swear it."

Dantès extended his hand.

"I swear it," said he.

Villefort rang.

The police commissioner entered.

Villefort approached the public officer and said a few words in his ear; the commissioner answered by a simple sign of the head.

"Follow the gentleman," said Villefort to Dantès.

Dantès bowed, cast a last look of gratitude at Villefort, and went out.

Scarcely was the door closed behind him than Villefort's strength failed him, and he fell almost fainting into an armchair.

Then, at the end of an instant:

"Oh my God!" he murmured, "upon what do life and fortune depend!... If the king's attorney had been at Marseille, if the examining magistrate had been called instead of me, I was lost; and this paper, this accursed paper was precipitating me into the abyss. Ah! my father, my father, will you then always be an obstacle to my happiness in this world, and must I eternally struggle with your past!"

Then, suddenly, an unexpected light seemed to pass through his mind and illuminate his face; a smile traced itself upon his still contracted mouth, his wild eyes became fixed and seemed to rest upon a thought.

"That is it," he said; "yes, this letter which was to ruin me will perhaps make my fortune. Come, Villefort, to work!"

And after assuring himself that the accused was no longer in the antechamber, the deputy of the king's attorney went out in his turn, and hurried toward the house of his betrothed.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”