The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 31

"I am thankful to say," exclaimed one of the young men, "that the Carnival is nearly over."

"Fernando is right," said one of the two others. "We have been out now for two hours, and we have not had the smallest adventure."

"Pshaw!" answered the third youth, who was called Arthur by his friends, "we have a long evening before us, and it would be odd if we did not find some excitement and could not create a little scandal!"

Of these three young men one was named Arthur de Montferrand; his father had made himself a name in the Chamber of Peers by defending the a.s.sa.s.sins of Marshal Brune; the other, Gaston de Ferrette, was a great duelist, although not more than twenty-four, and belonged to the best blood in France.

The third was less known in Paris. He was an Italian who was traveling in France. His name was Fernando de Vellebri. He came with letters from princes and amba.s.sadors, which opened to him the first hotels in the Faubourg. This was the time when the word "dandy" began to be used, and these three aspired to the t.i.tle.

"Where is Frederic?" said one. "Would he fail us now?"

"Of course not. Besides, he wrote to me to say that he was to go with Mademoiselle de Salves to witness some ceremony at Notre Dame!"

"Poor Frederic!"

"He is not so much to be pitied, if you please, for Mademoiselle de Salves is a most charming person."

"But does he love her? That is the question."

"It seems to me that you take a great deal of interest in my private affairs, gentlemen!" said a clear voice behind them.

"Frederic! Frederic, at last!"

"Yes, Frederic, who has been listening to you for some minutes, and who thinks you a little venturesome in your remarks."

He whom these young men greeted as Frederic wore no mask. His costume was what in 1824 was regarded as the height of elegance. His friends looked at him with admiration and envy, audibly regretting that they had appeared in mask and costume.

"Then go and take them off," said Frederic. "I will wait for you here, or, better still, you may stop for me an hour later at the _Mille Colonnes_."

Frederic was left alone. He was a youth of about twenty, but looked older. Heavy brows shaded deep-set eyes, his shoulders were square, with a slight deformity of the spine. His name was Frederic de Talizac.

Ten years had elapsed since the son of Magdalena scorned and insulted France. We shall soon discover if the man fulfilled the promise of his childhood.

The Vicomte left the rotunda, and putting up his eyegla.s.ses, began to examine the crowd in the garden.

The Palais Royal was at that time the central point of Paris, and served as a rendezvous for everybody. Each cafe had its special customers. The Bonapartists went to one, foreigners to another--the _Mille Colonnes_--speculators to the _Cafe de Fois_, and so on. The _Cafe de Valois_ was frequented by military men, the survivors of the great Revolution, and it was also believed that it was a resort of the Republicans. Wonder was frequently expressed that the police had not suppressed this scandal. It was toward this cafe that the Vicomte now took his way. Hardly had he pa.s.sed the gallery than he was attracted by a group of young men earnestly conversing together. Frederic watched them a moment, and then went up to them. He touched one of the men on his shoulder, saying:

"Will you grant me a few minutes' conversation, sir?"

The young man to whom this question was addressed was about twenty-five.

His regular features indicated great determination. He looked at Talizac for a moment, and then replied, very coldly:

"I am at your service, sir."

The two men then walked into an almost deserted street.

"I first wish to know your name," said the Vicomte. "I am Frederic de Talizac."

"As I am well aware."

"And I wish to know your name that I may know also, if I am to speak to you as to a gentleman, or strike you as I would a lacquey."

The young man turned very pale, but with a calmness that was absolutely terrifying under the circ.u.mstances, he replied:

"There can be nothing in common between us two."

"I am to marry Mademoiselle de Salves in a month," said Talizac, between his close shut teeth. "Yesterday, at noon, you had the impertinence, when riding past her mother's hotel, to throw a bouquet over the garden wall."

"Well?"

"You probably have excellent reasons for concealing your name, but I give you fair warning that if you are again guilty of similar conduct, that your chastis.e.m.e.nt will be swift and sure!"

The Vicomte stopped short, for the young man grasped him by the wrist with such strength that Frederic caught his breath in pain.

The stranger spoke in a low, calm voice.

"You have insulted me--wait!"

He turned and called to his friends.

"Gentlemen," he said, "this man has insulted me. Shall I fight him? He is the Vicomte de Talizac."

One of the friends, who wore the ribbon of the Legion of Honor, replied:

"You cannot fight with a Talizac!"

The Vicomte uttered a cry of rage, but the other still held him firmly.

"You see," he said, "we do not fight with people whom we do not respect.

If you do not understand me, apply to your father for an explanation--he will give it to you. The day may come when you may have an opportunity of killing me--if you can. Now go--return to your shameful pleasures!"

With features convulsed with rage the Vicomte, unable to speak, drew from his pocket a handful of cards, and flung them into the face of the unknown, who started forward, but one of his friends laid a restraining hand on his arm.

"You do not belong to yourself!" he said, warningly.

Talizac disappeared. As he was hurrying on, blind with anger, a voice cried:

"Is this the way you keep your appointments?"

It was the Italian, Fernando de Vellebri. He added, with a wink:

"You ought to have killed that fellow. You know him?"

"Very little."

"He was concerned in that affair at Tivoli. You will tell me about it."

The tone which the Italian employed was not pleasing to Frederic, who, glad to have found a new adversary, answered quickly: