The Son of Monte-Cristo The Son Of Monte Cristo Part 6

"And his brother was there, too!" he murmured. "Go on, Pierre."

"I knew him at once, as I was saying. He is tall, he is strong; his hair is turning gray, and he wears a heavy moustache, and was dressed in peasant costume. He came to me, and said in a voice that was so like his mother's: 'You are welcome!' I extended my hand, he did not seem to be astonished, and received it cordially. I went to the table, and while I ate my soup I watched him closely. He took the little girl up in his arms, and began to talk to her in a low voice, and the child listened intently. I could not hear what was said, but presently the child came running to me.

"'Monsieur,' she cried, 'will you do me a favor?'

"'Certainly,' I replied.

"'Will you drink with papa to the French army?'

"'Most gladly!' I answered, wondering at the same time if Simon took me for a spy. The mere idea made me feel ill, and I wanted to tell him who I was, when he came to the table with a couple of gla.s.ses.

"'To the success of our arms shall be our toast, sir!' he said. I answered, as I raised my gla.s.s to my lips: 'To France!' His eyes flashed with joy. These words had evidently conquered his distrust.

"'Would it be indiscreet to ask, sir, by what strange chance you are in this wild place?'

"I told him, for I had to lie, that I had lost my way. He looked at me a moment.

"'You come from Germany, do you not?'

"'Are you a sorcerer?' I exclaimed.

"'No--it is plain to see that by the cut and the material of your clothing. But is it true,' he continued rapidly, 'that the allied armies are about to cross the frontier?'

"'Alas! I fear so. But you do not know our last disaster, then?'

"'Fortune has betrayed us, but patience--patience!'

"'Do you think that further resistance is possible?' I asked.

"'I am a soldier of France!' was his proud reply. 'I believe in my banner and my country!' He then asked me many questions, and finally one that made my heart leap to my throat.

"'Is it true that the French emigres have accepted positions in these foreign armies?' I protested my ignorance. He pa.s.sed his hand over his brow, as if to chase away unfortunate doubts, and I changed the conversation.

"'These lovely children are yours?' I asked.

"'Yes--and this is my wife, Francoise Simon, the best of women, who has consoled me in many sorrows, and this is Jacques, my eldest, and you know Francinette. Perhaps you will give me your name now?'

"'One moment--you have not introduced yourself.'

"'I am called Simon,' he answered with a frown.

"'Simon--and nothing else?'

"'Nothing else. If I ever bore another name, I have forgotten it. I fought in 1791. I was wounded and compelled to leave the service.' He spoke with some nervousness.

"'Are your parents living?' I asked. He looked at me intently, and pouring out a gla.s.s of wine, he carried it to his lips with a steady hand.

"'I never knew them,' he replied.

"We talked for some time, and he told me that after he recovered from his wound he entered the service of a rich farmer, and soon saved enough to lease a small farm for himself, where he carried on his small business as an inn and kept a school, 'for,' he said, 'I had received a good education, and wished to do something for the children about me.'

"It was midnight before I went to my room, and I arose as soon as I heard a movement below, but, early as it was, Simon had already gone out. I felt that I must return to you without waiting to see him again.

I had formed a plan which I trust you will approve of. I went to the Mayor and obtained a copy of Simon's papers. You know since the new code any one can get such papers, and I said something about a lawsuit."

"And you have these papers?"

"Yes--in a portfolio in my breast."

He touched his breast as he spoke and uttered an exclamation of pain. "I had forgotten," he said, and then told his master of the attack made on him in the Black Forest.

"That is very strange," said the Marquis, thoughtfully.

"At all events, I wounded him," Pierre replied.

At this moment there was a sound just outside the door. The Marquis threw it open quickly, but there was nothing to be seen.

"I was sure I heard--"

"This old, worm-eaten wood makes strange noises when the dampness gets into it," said Pierre.

The Marquis read the papers carefully which Pierre now gave him.

"But there were two children at the time?" he said to Pierre. "Where is the certificate of the birth of Jacques?"

Pierre hesitated. "When Simon and Francoise were married," he answered, reluctantly, "Jacques was already born."

"And now," said the Marquis, "I must make some change in my will. My poor boy, in these papers, does not give his real name, nor the place of his birth, but we will soon remedy that."

"But why do you talk of your will! You must see your son, master, and then you can make all things right."

"I have grown very old lately, and have little strength left, but I hope to embrace my son Simon before I die; but I am in the hands of G.o.d. I wish to incorporate these papers in my will and then there will be no difficulty in proving Simon's relationship."

"But what do you fear?" asked Pierre.

The Marquis looked at him.

"Why this question? You know as well as I."

"Do you think that the Vicomte would have the audacity--"

The Marquis laid his hand on his servant's breast.

"There is no peasant," he said, slowly and emphatically, "no peasant in these parts who is capable of such a crime."

Pierre bowed his head; he understood.

"And this is not all," continued his master, "a will may be lost, may be stolen. I wish to provide for everything, and wish that Simon and his children shall be rich."