The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 62

Coucon appeared bearing two cards on a silver tray.

Esperance looked at the cards, and uttered an exclamation of joy.

"Lay two more covers," he said, "I will come down at once."

CHAPTER XLVI.

FORWARD!

Esperance hurried down, and in the dining-room, a marvel of marqueterie and mosaic, was a young man.

"My dear Goutran," he said, as the stranger advanced to meet him, "I cannot tell you how obliged I am for this visit."

This Goutran, Goutran Sabrau, was a tall young fellow of about twenty-five, with blonde hair and a frank face. He was a painter, and had already attained some celebrity.

"Upon my word, this is a welcome worth having," said Goutran. "But what is going on here, you do not look like yourself. Your eyes are much brighter than usual. Have you not some secret to confide to me?"

The two young men took their seats at a table, laid with great elegance.

"No. I have no secrets," answered Esperance, "and I am unaware of any change."

"And yet the very tones of your voice are altered."

Esperance interrupted his friend with some impatience.

"Never mind that! I a.s.sure you that so far from having anything pleasant to communicate, I am out of spirits. My father has gone away."

Goutran looked at him with some surprise.

The intimacy between these young men had begun by Esperance wis.h.i.+ng to buy a picture of Goutran's, which had obtained a great success at the Salon. The picture was of a gipsy girl playing a violin and dancing.

Bertuccio went to the painter's studio, and offered an enormous sum for the picture, which was refused by Goutran. Accustomed to the gratification of all his caprices, he went himself to the studio. But the young man replied:

"You offer me, sir, twenty thousand francs for a canvas for which a picture dealer would not give me fifty louis, and yet I refuse. At the same time I am immensely flattered, and feel that I owe you an explanation. The picture is dear to me for reasons which are neither a drama nor a poem. I had a friend whom I adored. She had an affection of the lungs and I often took her into the country. We were one day at Mendon when we heard strange music, wild barbarian music. We approached softly, and beheld through the trees a young gipsy girl playing a violin and lightly dancing as she played. We listened in astonishment, for the music was most singular. Suddenly I felt that my companion was clinging heavily to my arm. She had fainted. I seized her in my arms, and bore her away. In a week death was very near. Then she said to me:

"'I must hear that gipsy again!'

"I could not leave her, but I sent a friend to find this unknown girl.

Each morning I discovered that the search had been fruitless. The sick girl said when I told her, 'Very well! I shall not die until she comes.' On the fourth day she half lifted herself from her bed exclaiming:

"'There she is! I hear her!'

"I ran to the window, and beheld the gipsy in the garden. How did the sick girl know she was there? The gipsy had not played a note. I could not refuse my poor Aimee anything, and sent for the gipsy to come at once to the room where the sick girl lay. The gipsy began to play such soft, mysterious melodies. Poor Aimee listened with a faint smile.

Suddenly she drew me to her, kissed me, and died. This gipsy, sir, is the one I have painted. You see therefore that I could never part with this picture."

At this time Esperance was doing his best to copy his father's manners.

He was but twenty-one and he affected impa.s.sibility. He adopted his most phlegmatic English air, and replied to the painter:

"Your story is most interesting, but I will give fifty thousand francs."

Goutran was surprised and somewhat displeased. He repeated his refusal, and Esperance departed discontented with himself and with every one else.

On thinking the whole affair over he was heartily ashamed of himself. On the third day he went to the studio, and, on entering, said simply:

"For two days I have been uncomfortable. I beg you to accept my apologies for my ungentlemanly conduct."

Goutran was an excellent person, he had early learned indulgence to others. He at once saw that this handsome young fellow was a boy in reality, with plenty of theories, but no experience of life. He therefore received this apology frankly, and talked for some time to him as to a younger brother.

Esperance listened without a word. The distrust which was a part of his nature struggled against the cordiality shown by Goutran.

Finally Esperance had a friend. To Goutran alone did he ever open his heart, and even when he had been with him for hours, laughing and talking with gayety, he appeared before Monte-Cristo as impa.s.sive as ever.

Goutran did not attempt to penetrate the secrets of his life. He knew, however, that the day could not be far off when the b.u.t.terfly would emerge from the chrysalis.

"My father has gone away," Esperance had said.

"Indeed! And where has he gone?"

"I have no idea. He simply wrote me a few lines announcing his departure."

Goutran did not think it worth while to be astonished, for this was a most singular household.

"Then you are entirely your own master?"

"Yes," answered Esperance, "I am free."

"I have a favor to ask," said Goutran, after a minute's silence.

"Ask it. You know every thing I have is yours."

"Yes--another minute you would offer me millions."

"No, I did not think of doing so. I am rich, I know, but it is not my fault. And I do not think it generous in you to reproach me with these millions."

"I did not mean to offend you. If I needed money I would ask you for it."

"Money! what is that? I should have only to fill out a check, you know.

But ask me to fight for you, to be killed for you!"

Goutran took the hand of the youth in his, and smilingly said:

"Do you know, Esperance, the greatest sacrifice I can ask of you?"

"Go on."