Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.11-39
`
` "About six or seven and twenty years of age, I should say." `
` `
` "So," answered the abbe. "Old enough to be ambitions, but `
` too young to be corrupt. And how did he treat you?" `
` `
` "With more of mildness than severity." `
` `
` "Did you tell him your whole story?" `
` `
` "I did." `
` `
` "And did his conduct change at all in the course of your `
` examination?" `
` `
` "He did appear much disturbed when he read the letter that `
` had brought me into this scrape. He seemed quite overcome by `
` my misfortune." `
` `
` "By your misfortune?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Then you feel quite sure that it was your misfortune he `
` deplored?" `
` `
` "He gave me one great proof of his sympathy, at any rate." `
` `
` "And that?" `
` `
` "He burnt the sole evidence that could at all have `
` criminated me." `
` `
` "What? the accusation?" `
` `
` "No; the letter." `
` `
` "Are you sure?" `
` `
` "I saw it done." `
` `
` "That alters the case. This man might, after all, be a `
` greater scoundrel than you have thought possible." `
` `
` "Upon my word," said Dantes, "you make me shudder. Is the `
` world filled with tigers and crocodiles?" `
` `
` "Yes; and remember that two-legged tigers and crocodiles are `
` more dangerous than the others." `
` `
` "Never mind; let us go on." `
` `
` "With all my heart! You tell me he burned the letter?" `
` `
` "He did; saying at the same time, `You see I thus destroy `
` the only proof existing against you.'" `
` `
` "This action is somewhat too sublime to be natural." `
` `
` "You think so?" `
` `
` "I am sure of it. To whom was this letter addressed?" `
` `
` "To M. Noirtier, No. 13 Coq-Heron, Paris." `
` `
` "Now can you conceive of any interest that your heroic `
` deputy could possibly have had in the destruction of that `
` letter?" `
` `
` "Why, it is not altogether impossible he might have had, for `
` he made me promise several times never to speak of that `
` letter to any one, assuring me he so advised me for my own `
` interest; and, more than this, he insisted on my taking a `
` solemn oath never to utter the name mentioned in the `
` address." `
` `
` "Noirtier!" repeated the abbe; "Noirtier! -- I knew a person `
` of that name at the court of the Queen of Etruria, -- a `
` Noirtier, who had been a Girondin during the Revolution! `
` What was your deputy called?" `
` `
` "De Villefort!" The abbe burst into a fit of laughter, while `
` Dantes gazed on him in utter astonishment. `
` `
` "What ails you?" said he at length. `
` `
` "Do you see that ray of sunlight?" `
` `
` "I do." `
` `
` "Well, the whole thing is more clear to me than that sunbeam `
` is to you. Poor fellow! poor young man! And you tell me this `
` magistrate expressed great sympathy and commiseration for `
` you?" `
` `
` "He did." `
` `
` "And the worthy man destroyed your compromising letter?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "And then made you swear never to utter the name of `
` Noirtier?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Why, you poor short-sighted simpleton, can you not guess `
` who this Noirtier was, whose very name he was so careful to `
` keep concealed? Noirtier was his father." `
` `
` Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Dantes, or hell `
` opened its yawning gulf before him, he could not have been `
` more completely transfixed with horror than he was at the `
` sound of these unexpected words. Starting up, he clasped his `
` hands around his head as though to prevent his very brain `
` from bursting, and exclaimed, "His father! his father!" `
` `
` "Yes, his father," replied the abbe; "his right name was `
` Noirtier de Villefort." At this instant a bright light shot `
` through the mind of Dantes, and cleared up all that had been `
` dark and obscure before. The change that had come over `
` Villefort during the examination, the destruction of the `
` letter, the exacted promise, the almost supplicating tones `
` of the magistrate, who seemed rather to implore mercy than `
` to pronounce punishment, -- all returned with a stunning `
` force to his memory. He cried out, and staggered against the `
` wall like a drunken man, then he hurried to the opening that `
` led from the abbe's cell to his own, and said, "I must be `
` alone, to think over all this." `
` `
` When he regained his dungeon, he threw himself on his bed, `
` where the turnkey found him in the evening visit, sitting `
` with fixed gaze and contracted features, dumb and motionless `
` as a statue. During these hours of profound meditation, `
` which to him had seemed only minutes, he had formed a `
` fearful resolution, and bound himself to its fulfilment by a `
` solemn oath. `
` `
` Dantes was at length roused from his revery by the voice of `
` Faria, who, having also been visited by his jailer, had come `
` to invite his fellow-sufferer to share his supper. The `
` reputation of being out of his mind, though harmlessly and `
` even amusingly so, had procured for the abbe unusual `
` privileges. He was supplied with bread of a finer, whiter `
` quality than the usual prison fare, and even regaled each `
` Sunday with a small quantity of wine. Now this was a Sunday, `
` and the abbe had come to ask his young companion to share `
` the luxuries with him. Dantes followed; his features were no `
` longer contracted, and now wore their usual expression, but `
` there was that in his whole appearance that bespoke one who `
` had come to a fixed and desperate resolve. Faria bent on him `
` his penetrating eye: "I regret now," said he, "having helped `
` you in your late inquiries, or having given you the `
` information I did." `
` `
` "Why so?" inquired Dantes. `
` `
` "Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart -- `
` that of vengeance." `
` `
` Dantes smiled. "Let us talk of something else," said he. `
` `
` Again the abbe looked at him, then mournfully shook his `
` head; but in accordance with Dantes' request, he began to `
` speak of other matters. The elder prisoner was one of those `
` persons whose conversation, like that of all who have `
` experienced many trials, contained many useful and important `
` hints as well as sound information; but it was never `
` egotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his `
` own sorrows. Dantes listened with admiring attention to all `
` he said; some of his remarks corresponded with what he `
` already knew, or applied to the sort of knowledge his `
` nautical life had enabled him to acquire. A part of the good `
` abbe's words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him; `
` but, like the aurora which guides the navigator in northern `
` latitudes, opened new vistas to the inquiring mind of the `
` listener, and gave fantastic glimpses of new horizons, `
` enabling him justly to estimate the delight an intellectual `
` mind would have in following one so richly gifted as Faria `
` along the heights of truth, where he was so much at home. `
` `
` "You must teach me a small part of what you know," said `
` Dantes, "if only to prevent your growing weary of me. I can `
` well believe that so learned a person as yourself would `
` prefer absolute solitude to being tormented with the company `
` of one as ignorant and uninformed as myself. If you will `
` only agree to my request, I promise you never to mention `
` another word about escaping." The abbe smiled. "Alas, my `
` boy," said he, "human knowledge is confined within very `
` narrow limits; and when I have taught you mathematics, `
` physics, history, and the three or four modern languages `
` with which I am acquainted, you will know as much as I do `
` myself. Now, it will scarcely require two years for me to `
` communicate to you the stock of learning I possess." `
` `
` "Two years!" exclaimed Dantes; "do you really believe I can `
` acquire all these things in so short a time?" `
` `
` "Not their application, certainly, but their principles you `
` may; to learn is not to know; there are the learners and the `
` learned. Memory makes the one, philosophy the other." `
`
` "About six or seven and twenty years of age, I should say." `
` `
` "So," answered the abbe. "Old enough to be ambitions, but `
` too young to be corrupt. And how did he treat you?" `
` `
` "With more of mildness than severity." `
` `
` "Did you tell him your whole story?" `
` `
` "I did." `
` `
` "And did his conduct change at all in the course of your `
` examination?" `
` `
` "He did appear much disturbed when he read the letter that `
` had brought me into this scrape. He seemed quite overcome by `
` my misfortune." `
` `
` "By your misfortune?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Then you feel quite sure that it was your misfortune he `
` deplored?" `
` `
` "He gave me one great proof of his sympathy, at any rate." `
` `
` "And that?" `
` `
` "He burnt the sole evidence that could at all have `
` criminated me." `
` `
` "What? the accusation?" `
` `
` "No; the letter." `
` `
` "Are you sure?" `
` `
` "I saw it done." `
` `
` "That alters the case. This man might, after all, be a `
` greater scoundrel than you have thought possible." `
` `
` "Upon my word," said Dantes, "you make me shudder. Is the `
` world filled with tigers and crocodiles?" `
` `
` "Yes; and remember that two-legged tigers and crocodiles are `
` more dangerous than the others." `
` `
` "Never mind; let us go on." `
` `
` "With all my heart! You tell me he burned the letter?" `
` `
` "He did; saying at the same time, `You see I thus destroy `
` the only proof existing against you.'" `
` `
` "This action is somewhat too sublime to be natural." `
` `
` "You think so?" `
` `
` "I am sure of it. To whom was this letter addressed?" `
` `
` "To M. Noirtier, No. 13 Coq-Heron, Paris." `
` `
` "Now can you conceive of any interest that your heroic `
` deputy could possibly have had in the destruction of that `
` letter?" `
` `
` "Why, it is not altogether impossible he might have had, for `
` he made me promise several times never to speak of that `
` letter to any one, assuring me he so advised me for my own `
` interest; and, more than this, he insisted on my taking a `
` solemn oath never to utter the name mentioned in the `
` address." `
` `
` "Noirtier!" repeated the abbe; "Noirtier! -- I knew a person `
` of that name at the court of the Queen of Etruria, -- a `
` Noirtier, who had been a Girondin during the Revolution! `
` What was your deputy called?" `
` `
` "De Villefort!" The abbe burst into a fit of laughter, while `
` Dantes gazed on him in utter astonishment. `
` `
` "What ails you?" said he at length. `
` `
` "Do you see that ray of sunlight?" `
` `
` "I do." `
` `
` "Well, the whole thing is more clear to me than that sunbeam `
` is to you. Poor fellow! poor young man! And you tell me this `
` magistrate expressed great sympathy and commiseration for `
` you?" `
` `
` "He did." `
` `
` "And the worthy man destroyed your compromising letter?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "And then made you swear never to utter the name of `
` Noirtier?" `
` `
` "Yes." `
` `
` "Why, you poor short-sighted simpleton, can you not guess `
` who this Noirtier was, whose very name he was so careful to `
` keep concealed? Noirtier was his father." `
` `
` Had a thunderbolt fallen at the feet of Dantes, or hell `
` opened its yawning gulf before him, he could not have been `
` more completely transfixed with horror than he was at the `
` sound of these unexpected words. Starting up, he clasped his `
` hands around his head as though to prevent his very brain `
` from bursting, and exclaimed, "His father! his father!" `
` `
` "Yes, his father," replied the abbe; "his right name was `
` Noirtier de Villefort." At this instant a bright light shot `
` through the mind of Dantes, and cleared up all that had been `
` dark and obscure before. The change that had come over `
` Villefort during the examination, the destruction of the `
` letter, the exacted promise, the almost supplicating tones `
` of the magistrate, who seemed rather to implore mercy than `
` to pronounce punishment, -- all returned with a stunning `
` force to his memory. He cried out, and staggered against the `
` wall like a drunken man, then he hurried to the opening that `
` led from the abbe's cell to his own, and said, "I must be `
` alone, to think over all this." `
` `
` When he regained his dungeon, he threw himself on his bed, `
` where the turnkey found him in the evening visit, sitting `
` with fixed gaze and contracted features, dumb and motionless `
` as a statue. During these hours of profound meditation, `
` which to him had seemed only minutes, he had formed a `
` fearful resolution, and bound himself to its fulfilment by a `
` solemn oath. `
` `
` Dantes was at length roused from his revery by the voice of `
` Faria, who, having also been visited by his jailer, had come `
` to invite his fellow-sufferer to share his supper. The `
` reputation of being out of his mind, though harmlessly and `
` even amusingly so, had procured for the abbe unusual `
` privileges. He was supplied with bread of a finer, whiter `
` quality than the usual prison fare, and even regaled each `
` Sunday with a small quantity of wine. Now this was a Sunday, `
` and the abbe had come to ask his young companion to share `
` the luxuries with him. Dantes followed; his features were no `
` longer contracted, and now wore their usual expression, but `
` there was that in his whole appearance that bespoke one who `
` had come to a fixed and desperate resolve. Faria bent on him `
` his penetrating eye: "I regret now," said he, "having helped `
` you in your late inquiries, or having given you the `
` information I did." `
` `
` "Why so?" inquired Dantes. `
` `
` "Because it has instilled a new passion in your heart -- `
` that of vengeance." `
` `
` Dantes smiled. "Let us talk of something else," said he. `
` `
` Again the abbe looked at him, then mournfully shook his `
` head; but in accordance with Dantes' request, he began to `
` speak of other matters. The elder prisoner was one of those `
` persons whose conversation, like that of all who have `
` experienced many trials, contained many useful and important `
` hints as well as sound information; but it was never `
` egotistical, for the unfortunate man never alluded to his `
` own sorrows. Dantes listened with admiring attention to all `
` he said; some of his remarks corresponded with what he `
` already knew, or applied to the sort of knowledge his `
` nautical life had enabled him to acquire. A part of the good `
` abbe's words, however, were wholly incomprehensible to him; `
` but, like the aurora which guides the navigator in northern `
` latitudes, opened new vistas to the inquiring mind of the `
` listener, and gave fantastic glimpses of new horizons, `
` enabling him justly to estimate the delight an intellectual `
` mind would have in following one so richly gifted as Faria `
` along the heights of truth, where he was so much at home. `
` `
` "You must teach me a small part of what you know," said `
` Dantes, "if only to prevent your growing weary of me. I can `
` well believe that so learned a person as yourself would `
` prefer absolute solitude to being tormented with the company `
` of one as ignorant and uninformed as myself. If you will `
` only agree to my request, I promise you never to mention `
` another word about escaping." The abbe smiled. "Alas, my `
` boy," said he, "human knowledge is confined within very `
` narrow limits; and when I have taught you mathematics, `
` physics, history, and the three or four modern languages `
` with which I am acquainted, you will know as much as I do `
` myself. Now, it will scarcely require two years for me to `
` communicate to you the stock of learning I possess." `
` `
` "Two years!" exclaimed Dantes; "do you really believe I can `
` acquire all these things in so short a time?" `
` `
` "Not their application, certainly, but their principles you `
` may; to learn is not to know; there are the learners and the `
` learned. Memory makes the one, philosophy the other." `
`