Edmond Dantes Part 37

Captain Joliette, for it was, indeed, he, bowed and answered with a smile:

"You must allow me solemnly to protest against cla.s.sing yourself and your brother with the enemy! You are, both of you, very dear friends!"

"Especially Louise!" said Leon, with a sly look and a pretty little ringing laugh.

"Leon, Leon, when will you learn wisdom!" exclaimed Mlle. d'Armilly, a blush mantling her visage, and adding to its voluptuous beauty.

"Never, I suppose!" returned her brother, still laughing. "But I am already well acquainted with the value of discretion and, therefore, will withdraw!"

As he uttered those words, Leon kissed the tips of his fingers to Louise and Joliette, and lightly ran from the salon. When he had disappeared the Captain folded Mlle. d'Armilly in his arms and kissed her tenderly upon the forehead.

"Oh! Louise," said he, enthusiastically, "I love you more and more every day!"

The former artiste gently disentangled herself from his embrace and, smiling archly, led him to a chair; then she sat down upon another at a short distance from him.

"No, no," said Joliette, warmly; "come and sit beside me on the sofa.

Even Leon sees that I adore you, and all my friends in Paris are aware that I am seeking your hand in marriage. Why will you be so formal and distant with me!"

She arose and did as he requested; Joliette, seated at her side, put his arm about her waist. Louise did not resist, but still maintained an air of coquetry that was displeasing to the ardent young soldier.

"Albert," she said, in a low, musical voice, "do you, indeed, love me as you say?"

"Love you, Louise!" cried Joliette. "I would lay down my life for you!"

"Are you quite sure you love me for myself and not because of the resemblance you say I bear to the woman you once so ardently admired?

What was her name?--ah! Eugenie Danglars!" said she, looking at him with a piercing gaze.

"Quite sure, Louise, quite sure. Besides, Mlle. Danglars has disappeared, has not been seen or heard of for several years, and, no doubt, is dead."

"And yet you do not mourn for her! How strange!"

"I never loved her as I love you, Louise. Eugenie Danglars was a capricious and eccentric girl, and had she lived would have been a capricious and eccentric woman. It was well for me she vanished when she did! But, by the way, another singular and inexplicable coincidence is that Louise d'Armilly, the name you bear, was also the name of Mlle.

Danglars' music teacher. I cannot understand it at all!"

"There is no necessity for you to understand it. Anyhow, it is a coincidence, as you say--nothing more."

"Well, Louise, let us speak no further about either the resemblance or the coincidence. Suffice it that I love you, and you alone--that I love you for yourself."

"Your words make me very happy, Albert," replied Mlle. d'Armilly, and her full red lips looked so luscious, ripe and alluring, that Joliette could not resist the temptation to bestow a long, burning kiss upon them.

"Be my wife, then, dearest Louise," cried the Captain, "and I will prolong your happiness until death shall strike me down!"

"Ah! Albert, men are so fickle; they become infatuated with women and declare and, no doubt think, they could pa.s.s their lives at their charmers' feet; but possession dulls the l.u.s.tre of the brightest jewel, and the devoted lover is speedily replaced by a careless, if not faithless husband, who, instead of making his wife happy as he has sworn to do, forsakes her side to bask in the smiles of sirens."

"It will never be so with me, my own, my love!" protested Joliette, kissing her again and again. "I swear it."

"I know the value of a lover's oath, Albert," murmured Louise, with a meaning look. "When I was the brightest operatic star of the day many of them were breathed in my ear, but they were 'trifles light as air,'

forgotten as soon as uttered. Besides, should I consent to become your wife, you would be forced to leave me in France and return to Africa in obedience to the call of duty; the lovely women of Algeria are prodigal of their beauties and endearments, and under the spell of some subtle Arab enchantress you would either forget poor Louise d'Armilly altogether, or remember her only as a clog upon your pleasures and amorous delights."

"Nay, nay, you wrong me; among all the dusky sirens of Algeria there exists not one who could make me forget you for a single instant; they are brazen, shameless women, who love with a recklessness and boldness that can only disgust a Frenchman."

"But they can dazzle even a Frenchman, render him delirious with pa.s.sion and, ere he is aware, weave a web around him through which he cannot break. My heart tells me you are as susceptible to feminine wiles as the rest of your countrymen, and that, perhaps, you have already had half-a-dozen love-affairs in Algeria."

"Oh! Louise, Louise, it grieves me to the soul that you can thus doubt me. Give me a chance to prove my love and you shall be more than satisfied that I can be loyal and true."

Mlle. d'Armilly gazed at him with a singular expression on her dark beautiful countenance; it thrilled him to the very marrow of his bones, and caused his arm that was about her waist to tremble violently; at that moment the former cantatrice resembled Eugenie Danglars more than ever; her breath, was hot and convulsive as it struck his cheek, and a faint suspicion that all was not right--that she was playing a role with him, shot across his mind for the first time; with this suspicion came jealousy, and, releasing her waist, he said, in a gasping tone:

"You have another lover, Louise, a lover you prefer to me--am I not right?"

Mlle. d'Armilly laughed a short, nervous laugh, and answered in a voice that seemed to mock him:

"I have had hosts of ardent admirers in my time. Do you refer particularly to any individual?"

"I know not; I am beside myself with pa.s.sion for you, and the mere fancy that another man may have the first place in your heart is unbearable to me! But there is one conclusive way in which you can prove my suspicion--my jealousy--groundless; marry me!"

"Albert," replied Louise, with a renewal of the singular expression of countenance that had so agitated him, "I shall never marry any one; I cannot--I dare not!"

The young man was startled as if by an electric shock; he drew back and gazed at her with wide-opened eyes, speechless from astonishment.

After a brief pause, Mlle. d'Armilly continued, in a dry, hard tone:

"You do not understand me and I cannot expect you to, for I can neither tell you my motives nor lay bare my sad history to you; you must be content with my decision--I shall not marry!"

Captain Joliette, strong man as he was, could not control his emotion; he buried his face in his hands and groaned aloud. The young woman gazed at him half pityingly, half triumphantly; she felt compa.s.sion for her stricken lover, but, above all, gloried in the overwhelming power of her charms that could so subdue a manly, victorious young soldier and make him her helpless slave.

"Is there then no shadow of a hope?" at length asked Joliette, in a hoa.r.s.e whisper.

"Not the shadow of a hope!" replied Mlle. d'Armilly, firmly. "You can be my friend, my brother, if you will, but never my husband."

The young man recoiled in horror at the suggestion that seemed to be conveyed by this permission.

"What do you mean by friend?" he asked, a cold s.h.i.+ver pa.s.sing through him.

Louise laughed a short, nervous laugh, and, looking him full in the eyes, replied:

"You know what I mean. I love you better than any man I ever met, save one."

Captain Joliette slowly arose to his feet and stood staring at her, his pa.s.sion and his scruples waging a bitter battle within him for the mastery. The temptress half reclined on the sofa, a miracle of seductive grace and voluptuous beauty. He moved toward her as if to seize her in his arms; then, suddenly checking himself, he asked, with a convulsive gasp:

"And that man--that one?"

"Was separated from me forever through the vile machinations of that mysterious and cold-blooded fiend, the Count of Monte-Cristo!"

"The Count of Monte-Cristo?" exclaimed the young man, lost in amazement.

"Yes, the Count of Monte-Cristo, who afterwards disappeared from Paris and has not since been heard of."

"You mistake; the Count of Monte-Cristo is in Paris now; he calls himself Edmond Dantes and is the celebrated Deputy from Ma.r.s.eilles over whom everybody has gone wild for some time past."