THE DARING attempt to rob the count was the topic of conversation throughout Paris for the next fortnight. The dying man had signed a deposition declaring Benedetto to be the assassin. The police had orders to make the strictest search for the murderer. Caderousse's knife, dark lantern, bunch of keys, and clothing, excepting the waistcoat, which could not be found, were deposited at the registry; the corpse was conveyed to the morgue. The count told every one that this adventure had happened during his absence at Auteuil, and that he only knew what was related by the Abbé Busoni, who that evening, by mere chance, had requested to pass the night in his house, to examine some valuable books in his library. Bertuccio alone turned pale whenever Benedetto's name was mentioned in his presence, but there was no reason why any one should notice his doing so. Villefort, being called on to prove the crime, was preparing his brief with the same ardor that he was accustomed to exercise when required to speak in criminal cases.

But three weeks had already passed, and the most diligent search had been unsuccessful; the attempted robbery and the murder of the robber by his comrade were almost forgotten in anticipation of the approaching marriage of Mademoiselle Danglars to the Count Andrea Cavalcanti. It was expected that this wedding would shortly take place, as the young man was received at the banker's as the betrothed. Letters had been despatched to M. Cavalcanti, as the count's father, who highly approved of the union, regretted his inability to leave Parma at that time, and promised a wedding gift of a hundred and fifty thousand livres. It was agreed that the three millions should be intrusted to Danglars to invest; some persons had warned the young man of the circumstances of his future father-in-law, who had of late sustained repeated losses; but with sublime disinterestedness and confidence the young man refused to listen, or to express a single doubt to the baron. The baron adored Count Andrea Cavalcanti: not so Mademoiselle Eugénie Danglars. With an instinctive hatred of matrimony, she suffered Andrea's attentions in order to get rid of Morcerf; but when Andrea urged his suit, she betrayed an entire dislike to him. The baron might possibly have perceived it, but, attributing it to a caprice, feigned ignorance.

The delay demanded by Beauchamp had nearly expired. Morcerf appreciated the advice of Monte Cristo to let things die away of their own accord. No one had taken up the remark about the general, and no one had recognized in the officer who betrayed the castle of Yanina the noble count in the House of Peers. Albert, however felt no less insulted; the few lines which had irritated him were certainly intended as an insult. Besides, the manner in which Beauchamp had closed the conference left a bitter recollection in his heart. He cherished the thought of the duel, hoping to conceal its true cause even from his seconds. Beauchamp had not been seen since the day he visited Albert, and those of whom the latter inquired always told him he was out on a journey which would detain him some days. Where he was no one knew.

One morning Albert was awakened by his valet de chambre, who announced Beauchamp. Albert rubbed his eyes, ordered his servant to introduce him into the small smoking-room on the ground-floor, dressed himself quickly, and went down. He found Beauchamp pacing the room; on perceiving him Beauchamp stopped. "Your arrival here, without waiting my visit at your house to-day, looks well, sir," said Albert. "Tell me, may I shake hands with you, saying, 'Beauchamp, acknowledge you have injured me, and retain my friendship,' or must I simply propose to you a choice of arms?"

"Albert," said Beauchamp, with a look of sorrow which stupefied the young man, "let us first sit down and talk."

"Rather, sir, before we sit down, I must demand your answer."

"Albert," said the journalist, "these are questions which it is difficult to answer."

"I will facilitate it by repeating the question, 'Will you, or will you not, retract?'"

"Morcerf, it is not enough to answer 'yes' or 'no' to questions which concern the honor, the social interest, and the life of such a man as Lieutenant-general the Count of Morcerf, peer of France."

"What must then be done?"

"What I have done, Albert. I reasoned thus--money, time, and fatigue are nothing compared with the reputation and interests of a whole family; probabilities will not suffice, only facts will justify a deadly combat with a friend. If I strike with the sword, or discharge the contents of a pistol at man with whom, for three years, I have been on terms of intimacy, I must, at least, know why I do so; I must meet him with a heart at ease, and that quiet conscience which a man needs when his own arm must save his life."

"Well," said Morcerf, impatiently, "what does all this mean?"

"It means that I have just returned from Yanina."

"From Yanina?"

"Yes."

"Impossible!"

"Here is my passport; examine the visa--Geneva, Milan, Venice, Trieste, Delvino, Yanina. Will you believe the government of a republic, a kingdom, and an empire?" Albert cast his eyes on the passport, then raised them in astonishment to Beauchamp. "You have been to Yanina?" said he.

"Albert, had you been a stranger, a foreigner, a simple lord, like that Englishman who came to demand satisfaction three or four months since, and whom I killed to get rid of, I should not have taken this trouble; but I thought this mark of consideration due to you. I took a week to go, another to return, four days of quarantine, and forty-eight hours to stay there; that makes three weeks. I returned last night, and here I am."

"What circumlocution! How long you are before you tell me what I most wish to know?"

"Because, in truth, Albert"--

"You hesitate?"

"Yes,--I fear."

"You fear to acknowledge that your correspondent his deceived you? Oh, no self-love, Beauchamp. Acknowledge it, Beauchamp; your courage cannot be doubted."

"Not so," murmured the journalist; "on the contrary"--

Albert turned frightfully pale; he endeavored to speak, but the words died on his lips. "My friend," said Beauchamp, in the most affectionate tone, "I should gladly make an apology; but, alas,"--

"But what?"

"The paragraph was correct, my friend."

"What? That French officer"--

"Yes."

"Fernand?"

"Yes."

"The traitor who surrendered the castle of the man in whose service he was--"

"Pardon me, my friend, that man was your father!" Albert advanced furiously towards Beauchamp, but the latter restrained him more by a mild look than by his extended hand.

"My friend," said he, "here is a proof of it."

Albert opened the paper, it was an attestation of four notable inhabitants of Yanina, proving that Colonel Fernand Mondego, in the service of Ali Tepelini, had surrendered the castle for two million crowns. The signatures were perfectly legal. Albert tottered and fell overpowered in a chair. It could no longer be doubted; the family name was fully given. After a moment's mournful silence, his heart overflowed, and he gave way to a flood of tears. Beauchamp, who had watched with sincere pity the young man's paroxysm of grief, approached him. "Now, Albert," said he, "you understand me--do you not? I wished to see all, and to judge of everything for myself, hoping the explanation would be in your father's favor, and that I might do him justice. But, on the contrary, the particulars which are given prove that Fernand Mondego, raised by Ali Pasha to the rank of governor-general, is no other than Count Fernand of Morcerf; then, recollecting the honor you had done me, in admitting me to your friendship, I hastened to you."

Albert, still extended on the chair, covered his face with both hands, as if to prevent the light from reaching him. "I hastened to you," continued Beauchamp, "to tell you, Albert, that in this changing age, the faults of a father cannot revert upon his children. Few have passed through this revolutionary period, in the midst of which we were born, without some stain of infamy or blood to soil the uniform of the soldier, or the gown of the magistrate. Now I have these proofs, Albert, and I am in your confidence, no human power can force me to a duel which your own conscience would reproach you with as criminal, but I come to offer you what you can no longer demand of me. Do you wish these proofs, these attestations, which I alone possess, to be destroyed? Do you wish this frightful secret to remain with us? Confided to me, it shall never escape my lips; say, Albert, my friend, do you wish it?"

Albert threw himself on Beauchamp's neck. "Ah, noble fellow!" cried he.

"Take these," said Beauchamp, presenting the papers to Albert.

Albert seized them with a convulsive hand, tore them in pieces, and trembling lest the least vestige should escape and one day appear to confront him, he approached the wax-light, always kept burning for cigars, and burned every fragment. "Dear, excellent friend," murmured Albert, still burning the papers.

"Let all be forgotten as a sorrowful dream," said Beauchamp; "let it vanish as the last sparks from the blackened paper, and disappear as the smoke from those silent ashes."

"Yes, yes," said Albert, "and may there remain only the eternal friendship which I promised to my deliverer, which shall be transmitted to our children's children, and shall always remind me that I owe my life and the honor of my name to you,--for had this been known, oh, Beauchamp, I should have destroyed myself; or,--no, my poor mother! I could not have killed her by the same blow,--I should have fled from my country."

"Dear Albert," said Beauchamp. But this sudden and factitious joy soon forsook the young man, and was succeeded by a still greater grief.

"Well," said Beauchamp, "what still oppresses you, my friend?"

"I am broken-hearted," said Albert. "Listen, Beauchamp! I cannot thus, in a moment relinquish the respect, the confidence, and pride with which a father's untarnished name inspires a son. Oh, Beauchamp, Beauchamp, how shall I now approach mine? Shall I draw back my forehead from his embrace, or withhold my hand from his? I am the most wretched of men. Ah, my mother, my poor mother!" said Albert, gazing through his tears at his mother's portrait; "if you know this, how much must you suffer!"

"Come," said Beauchamp, taking both his hands, "take courage, my friend."

"But how came that first note to be inserted in your journal? Some unknown enemy--an invisible foe--has done this."

"The more must you fortify yourself, Albert. Let no trace of emotion be visible on your countenance, bear your grief as the cloud bears within it ruin and death--a fatal secret, known only when the storm bursts. Go, my friend, reserve your strength for the moment when the crash shall come."

"You think, then, all is not over yet?" said Albert, horror-stricken.

"I think nothing, my friend; but all things are possible. By the way--"

"What?" said Albert, seeing that Beauchamp hesitated.

"Are you going to marry Mademoiselle Danglars?"

"Why do you ask me now?"

"Because the rupture or fulfilment of this engagement is connected with the person of whom we were speaking."

"How?" said Albert, whose brow reddened; "you think M. Danglars"--

"I ask you only how your engagement stands? Pray put no construction on my words I do not mean they should convey, and give them no undue weight."

"No." said Albert, "the engagement is broken off."

"Well," said Beauchamp. Then, seeing the young man was about to relapse into melancholy, "Let us go out, Albert," said he; "a ride in the wood in the phaeton, or on horseback, will refresh you; we will then return to breakfast, and you shall attend to your affairs, and I to mine."

"Willingly," said Albert; "but let us walk. I think a little exertion would do me good." The two friends walked out on the fortress. When arrived at the Madeleine,--

"Since we are out," said Beauchamp, "let us call on M. de Monte Cristo; he is admirably adapted to revive one's spirits, because he never interrogates, and in my opinion those who ask no questions are the best comforters."

"Gladly," said Albert; "I love him--let us call."

歹徒潜入伯爵府企图行窃这回事，是在此后的两星期内成了全巴黎的谈话中心。那个人在临死的时候曾签署了一份自白书，指控暗杀他的人是贝尼代托。警察局曾下令严紧搜查凶手。指控德罗斯的小刀、隐显灯、钥匙串和衣服都保藏在档案库里，只有他的背心找不到，尸体则已用车送到尸体陈列所里。伯爵每逢向人提及此事时，每次都说那次意外事件是他在阿都尔别墅的时候发生的，那天碰巧有位布沙尼神甫要求在他的家里过夜，在他的图书馆里查找几本珍贵的书籍，对这件事情他也是从布沙尼神甫那儿听来的。只有贝尔图乔一听人提到贝尼代托的名字就脸色发白，但谁都没有去注意他这种变化。维尔福因为曾被叫去为那件罪案作证，所以接受了这件案子，并以他处理一切刑事罪案时的热忱做着预审前准备工作。

三个星期过去了，虽竭尽全力搜索仍未有成果，由于腾格拉尔小姐和安德烈·卡瓦尔康蒂子爵的婚期日渐接近，那次行窃的企图以及窃贼被他的同伴所杀的事几乎被人遗忘。

婚期已宣布，青年人也已在那位银行家的府上被视作未来女婿。子爵曾写了几封信去征求他父亲卡瓦尔康蒂老先生的意见，老先生复信说他非常赞成这件婚事，但同时也感到遗憾，因为他那时不能离开巴马但，他同意拿出那笔每年可以产生十五万里弗利息的本金。这三百万本金，他已同意交给腾格拉尔去投资。有些人把那位银行家的近况告诉那青年人，说他这位未来岳父近来连遭损失；但那青年人不把金钱看在眼里，毫不理会这种种暗示，也从不向男爵提及那些话。男爵崇拜安德烈·卡瓦尔康蒂子爵，欧热妮·腾格拉尔小姐却并不这样。由于天生憎恶结婚，她接受了安德烈的追求以求摆脱马尔塞夫；但当安德烈步步紧逼时，她不免也向他流露出一种明显的憎恶。男爵或许也觉察到她那种态度，但他认为这只是他女儿的怪僻，假装不知道。

波尚要求宽延的时间快到了。马尔塞夫现在已觉察到伯爵劝他息事宁人那个忠告的价值。谁都不曾留心关于将军的那则消息，谁也不会认出那个出卖亚尼纳城的法国军官就是贵族院里那个高贵的伯爵。但是阿尔贝并不觉得他所受的侮辱已减轻，几乎使他感到愤怒的消息显然是一种故意的侮辱。

此外，波尚结束上次会谈时的态度在他的心里留下了一个痛苦的回忆。所以他的头脑里依旧存着决斗的念头，并希望瞒住这次决斗的真原因，甚至瞒过他的陪证人。

波尚自阿尔贝去拜访他以后，便再没有人见到过他，阿尔贝每次向人问到他时，人家总是回答他已旅行去了，要过些日子才能回来。但是他究竟到哪儿去，谁都不知道。直到一天早晨，阿尔贝的贴身跟班唤醒他，回报波尚来访。阿尔贝擦擦眼睛，吩咐仆人让波尚在楼下的小吸烟室里稍候，他很快地穿好衣服，走下楼去。他发现波尚在房间里踱来踱去，一看到他，波尚就停住了脚步。

“阁下，您不等我今天到您府上去拜访，就先到我这儿来，看来是个好兆头，”阿尔贝说。“告诉我，究竟我应该和你握手，说，‘波尚，承认你曾经伤害我，恢复咱们的友谊’呢，还是我只要请你选择武器就够了？”

“阿尔贝，”波尚带着一种使阿尔贝惶恐不安的忧郁神色说，“让我们先坐下来再谈吧。”

“阁下，我倒宁愿在坐下来之前先知道你的答复。”

“阿尔贝，”那新闻记者说，“客观环境使我难于作那个答复。”

“我可以使你容易答复，方法是再重复一遍那个问题，‘你愿不愿意？”

“马尔塞夫，当问题牵涉到法国贵族马尔塞夫中将伯爵的名誉、地位和生命的时候，仅仅回答是或否是不够的。”

“那到底应该怎样办呢？”

“就是照我的方法办，阿尔贝，我这样想：金钱、时间和疲劳，和一个家庭的名誉和利益来相比，是不值一提的。‘大概如此’这几个字还不够有力，只有确凿事实才能决定是否应该和一个朋友作一场致命的决斗。如果我把我的剑或手枪里的子弹对准一个三年来曾与我交往密切的朋友，我至少应该知道我为什么要那样做，我应该问心无愧去与他决斗，而当一个人必须用他自己的武器救自己生命的时候，是需要那种心理准备的。”

“唉，”马尔塞夫不耐烦地说。“这一切究竟是什么意思？”

“它的意思就是：我刚从亚尼纳回来。”

“从亚尼纳来？”

“是的。”

“不可能的？”

“这是我的护照，检查一下上面的签署吧，——日内瓦、米兰、威尼斯、的里雅斯特、德尔维纳和亚尼纳。你总该信任一个共和国、一个王国和一个帝国的警察局吧？”

阿尔贝把他的眼光落到护照上，然后又惊愕地抬起头来望着波尚。“你到亚尼纳去过了？”他说。

“阿尔贝，假若你是一个陌生人，一个外国人，一个象三四个月前来寻求赔礼道歉而被我杀掉的那个英国人那样头脑简单的贵族，我就不会找这种麻烦了，但我认为你应该重视这一切。我去就花一个星期的时间，回来一个星期，隔离检疫花了四天，在那儿逗留四十八小时，加起来正是三星期。我昨天晚上刚回来，而现在就在这儿了。”

“不要再多罗嗦了！究竟你要多久才能告诉我最想知道的事情呢？”

“因为，说真话，阿尔贝——”

“你吞吞吐吐！”

“是的，我怕。”

“你怕承认你的记者欺骗了你？噢！丢开你的骄傲吧，波尚！承认了吧，波尚，别让你的勇敢让人怀疑。”

“哦，不是那么回事，”那记者吞吞吐吐地说，“正巧相反——”阿尔贝的脸色变苍白起来，他竭力想说话，但却说不出一句话。

“我的朋友，”波尚用最恳切的口气说，“我很高兴能向你道歉，但是，唉！——”

“但是什么？”

“那段消息是正确的，我的朋友。”

“什么！那个法国军官——”

“是的。”

“那个弗尔南多？”

“是的。”

“那个卖城叛主的奸徒是——”

“宽恕我，我的朋友，那个人就是你的父亲。”

阿尔贝狂怒地向波尚冲过去，但波尚并不准备伸手反抗，只是用一种温和的目光制止了他。“别忙！我的朋友，’他一面说，一面从他的口袋里抽出一张文件来，“证据在这儿。”

阿尔贝打开那张文件，那是亚尼纳四个德高望重的一份证明书，证明弗尔南多·蒙台哥在阿里·铁贝林手下服务的时候曾为两百万钱财去卖城投降。那四个名人的签字是经领事鉴定过的。阿尔贝脚步踉跄，四肢无力地跌落在一张椅子里。这是不能再怀疑的事实了，——家庭名誉全完了。短时间痛苦的沉默以后，他心口反涨了，眼泪禁不住直流起来。波尚怀着深深的同情怜悯注视着这悲痛欲绝的青年，走到他的身边。“阿尔贝，”他说，“你了解我了吧，是吗？我想亲眼看到一切，亲自判断一切，希望所得的结果能有利于你的父亲，希望我能为他主持公道。但相反的，事实证明那个被阿里总督提拔到督军职位的弗尔南多·蒙台哥不是别人，而正是弗尔南多·马尔塞夫伯爵，于是，想到我们那份真挚的友情，就赶快来见你了。”

阿尔贝仍旧躺在椅子上，用双手遮住他的眼睛，象是要阻止光线照到他身上似的。

“我赶到你这儿来，”波尚继续说，“告诉你，阿尔贝，在这个变动的年代里，一个父亲的过错是不能转移到他孩子身上的。我们是在战争时期中长大的，而凡是经过这次战争，很少能不在他军人的制服或法官的长袍上沾染到一些不名誉的污迹或血。现在我有了这些证据，阿尔贝，现在我已拥有了你的秘密，没有哪一个人再能强迫决斗，因为你的良心将遣责你，使你感到自己象是一个罪人，我却能给你你不再能向我要求的事。你愿意我所独有的这些证据，这些证明，书吗？你愿意这个可怕的秘密只有我们两个人知道吗？相信我，我决不对别人讲，说吧，阿尔贝，我的朋友，你愿意吗？”

阿尔贝扑上去抱住波尚的脖子。“啊，多么高贵的心地呵！”他喊道。

“拿了吧。”波尚说，他把那些文件递给阿尔贝。

阿尔贝用一只颤抖的手抓过来，把它们撕得粉碎。他浑身发抖，恐怕撕碎的一小片将来再出现到他面前，他走到那支老是燃着准备点雪茄的蜡烛前面，把每一片碎纸都烧掉。

“亲爱的好朋友！”他一面烧那些文件，一面轻轻地说。

“忘掉这一切就象忘掉一个恶梦吧，”波尚说，“让它象那变黑的纸张上的最后的火花那样消失，象那从无声的灰烬上发出来的青烟那样飘散吧。”

“是的，是的，”阿尔贝说，“只让永恒的友谊存在吧，我向我的救主答应那种友谊将在我们的子孙世世代代保存下去，并使我永远记得：我的生命和名誉都出于你的恩赐！因为，假如这件事被别人知道，噢！波尚呀，我就得毁灭我自己，或是——不，我可怜的母亲！我不能让她受这个致命的打击——我就得逃离我祖国了。”

“可怜的阿尔贝！”波尚说。

但这种突如其来和毫无意义的欢乐不久就离开了那个青年人，接着来的，是更大的忧伤。

“嗯，波尚，”阿尔贝说，“听我说，波尚！我的父亲白璧无瑕般的声誉曾令我对他尊敬、信任和自豪，现在顷刻间要我抛弃这些感情，我是办不到的。噢，波尚，波尚呀！我现在该怎样对待我的父亲呢？我应该不接受他的拥抱，不让他吻我的额头，不与他握手吗？我是一个最痛苦的人了。啊，我的母亲，我可怜的母亲呀！”阿尔贝用满含热泪的双眼凝视着他母亲的画像说，“假如你知道了这回事，你将会多么痛苦啊！”

“来，”波尚拉住他的双手说，“勇敢一点，我的朋友。”

“但登在报纸上的那一条消息是怎样来的呢？在这一切的后面，显然有着一个不可知的冤家，一个不可见的敌人。”

“所以你更应该早作准备，阿尔贝。你的脸上不要露出什么来，把你的悲哀全隐藏在心里，象暴风雨发作时才让人猜透这致命的秘密，去吧。”

“看来，你以为这一切还不曾完结吗？”阿尔贝惊恐地说。

“不是我以为，我的朋友，一切事情都是可能的。顺便问你一句——”

“什么？”阿尔贝说，他看波尚有点犹豫。

“你快要和腾格拉尔小姐结婚了吗？”

“你为什么现在问我这个问题？”

“因为在我看来，这个婚约的失败或成功，是与我们此刻所关注的事情有关的。”

“怎么会呢？”阿尔贝说，他脸涨得通红，“你以为腾格拉尔先生——”

“我只问你的婚约是否还有效？请不要猜想我的话所没有的意思，不要太看重我的话。”

“不，”阿尔贝说，“那个婚约已吹了。”

“好！”波尚说。然后，看到那青年人又快要变得抑郁起来，便说，“我们出去吧，阿尔贝，乘着轻便马车或骑马到树林里去兜一圈，可以调整一下你的情绪。我们回来再吃早餐，然后你去干你的事，我去干我的。”

“同意，”阿尔贝说，“让我们散步去吧。我想，略微走动一下对我很有好处。”

两位朋友走到马路上。当走到玛德伦大道时，波尚说，“既然我们出来了，就去拜访基督山先生吧，他最能振奋人的情绪，因为他从不追根问底，在我看来，那些不追根问底的人最能给人以安慰。”

“我也认为如此，”阿尔贝说，“我爱他，我们去拜访他吧。”