Three

THE CATALANS

Danglars and Caderousse sat at a table under a tree. About one hundred yards away stood the small village of the Catalans.

One day, many years ago, this strange people had come from no one knew where. They asked the people of Marseilles if they might settle on this small desert cape, to which their boats had come. They were allowed to do so. Thus, around the ten or twelve ships which brought these wanderers of the sea, a small village sprang up—a curious-looking village, built after the manner of villages in their own country.

Our readers must follow us along the only street of this little village and enter with us into one of the houses.

A young girl with hair black as night, and eyes dark and wonderful as the shadow of a forest, was standing near the wall. She held in her hand a branch, from which she picked the flowers, and let them fall between her fingers to the floor.

Three steps from her sat a young man, about twenty years of age. He was angry—and afraid. He questioned her with his eyes; but the girl's eyes mastered his.

"You see, Mercedes," said the young man, "the month of May has come round again; tell me, is this the time for our marriage?"

"I have answered you a hundred times, Fernand, and really you must be your own enemy to ask me again."

"Well, say it again—say it again so that I may at last believe it. Tell me again that, although your mother allowed me to court you, yet you do not want me. You have played with my happiness; and my life or death matter nothing to you. Oh! to have dreamed for ten years of being your husband, and to lose that hope, on which my whole life has been built."

"It was not I who ever told you to hope," replied Mercedes. "I have never played with you. I have always said 'I love you as a brother, but do not ask from me more than a sister's love; for my heart is another's.' Is this not true, Fernand?"

"Yes, I know it well, Mercedes," replied the young man. "You have said it to me too often. But do you forget that there is a law that a Catalan should marry a Catalan?"

"You make a mistake, Fernand. It is not a law. It is indeed usual; but there is no such law. My mother has been dead a year: many persons have been kind to me and helped me. I allowed you to give me presents of fish because you are the son of my father's brother, because we were children together, and still more because it would have given you so much pain if I said 'No'."

"Loved by you, I might give up fishing and become a merchant in the city."

"No, you could not do that. Remain a fisherman, and remain my friend, as I cannot give you more."

"You are right, Mercedes. I will be a seaman. Instead of the dress of our fathers, I will wear a seaman's hat and a blue coat. Would not that dress please you?"

"What do you mean?" asked Mercedes with an angry look. "I do not understand you!"

"I mean that you are hard to me because you are expecting someone who is dressed thus. But perhaps he, whom you are expecting, is untrue to you. Or perhaps the sea has been untrue to him."

"Fernand!" cried Mercedes. "I believed that you were good at heart, but I was mistaken! It is true: I do wait for him; I do love him of whom you speak. If he does not return, I will not say that he is untrue, as you do; I will tell you that he died loving me and me only."

Fernand made no reply, nor did he try to stop the tears which fell from the eyes of Mercedes. Those tears were for another. He rose and walked up and down the hut. Then suddenly he stopped before Mercedes, his eyes burning:

"Say, Mercedes," he said. "once and for all—have you decided thus?"

"I love Edmond Dantes," the young girl answered quietly, "and none but Edmond shall ever be my husband."

"And you will always love him?"

"As long as I live."

Fernand let his head fall, as if he were conquered. He gave a heart-broken cry. Then suddenly he looked her full in the face, and said:

"But, if he is dead—?"

"If he is dead, I shall die too."

"If he has forgotten you—?"

"Mercedes!" shouted a voice joyfully outside the house, "Mercedes!"

"Ah," cried the girl, her face bright with love, "you see he has not forgotten me, for here he is!" And, running towards the door, she opened it, saying, "Here, Edmond, here I am!"

Fernand's face was white. He stepped back, and fell into a chair.

Edmond and Mercedes were in each other's arms. The golden sunshine of Marseilles shone round them like a light of heaven. They were alone with each other in the whole world.

Then Edmond saw the face of Fernand in the shadow, white and angry.

"Ah," said Dantes, looking not too pleased, "I had not noticed that there were three of us." Then, turning to Mercedes, he asked, "Who is this gentleman?"

"One who will be your best friend, Dantes. He is my friend; I look upon him as a brother. It is Fernand, the man whom, after you, I love most in the world. Do you not remember him?"

"Yes," said Dantes, and he held out his hand to the Catalan.

But Fernand, instead of taking it, remained silent and did not move.

Edmond turned his eyes, questioning, to Mercedes. Then again he looked at Fernand. The look told him all, and his face became red with anger.

"I did not know, when I hurried here, that I was to meet an enemy."

"An enemy!" cried Mercedes with an angry look at Fernand. "An enemy in my house! If I believed it, I would place my arm under yours and go with you to Marseilles, leaving this house for ever. But you are mistaken," she continued: "you have no enemy here, only Fernand, my brother, who will take your hand as a dear friend."

At these words the young girl fixed her eyes upon the Catalan, as a queen might look, not praying, but commanding him. And he, conquered by those eyes, came slowly towards Edmond, and offered him his hand.

But, as soon as he had touched Edmond's hand, he felt that he had done all that he could do; and he ran out of the house.

"Oh!" he cried, running wildly on, "who will save me from this man? Fool, fool that I am!"

"Catalan! ... Fernand! Where are you running to?" shouted a voice.

The young man stopped suddenly, and saw Caderousse sitting at a table with Danglars under a tree.

"Well," said Caderousse, "are you in such a hurry that you have not time to notice your friends?

"His looks are strange," said Danglars, touching Caderousse with his knee. "Are we mistaken, or has Dantes won?

Fernand became cooler. He slowly came towards them.

"You called me?" he said, and fell, rather than sat, on one of the seats near the table.

"This is Fernand," said Caderousse with a strange look towards his friend Danglars. "He is a good and brave Catalan, and one of the best fishermen in Marseilles; and he is in love with a very fine girl named Mercedes. But it seems that the fine girl is in love with the First Officer of the Pharaoh. It appears that Fernand is not the only person who does not like the First Officer of the Pharaoh."

"And when is the marriage to be?" said Danglars.

"Oh, it is not yet fixed," answered Fernand.

"No, but it will be," said Caderousse, "as surely as Dantes will be captain of the Pharaoh—eh, Danglars?"

"Well," said Danglars, filling the glasses, "let us drink to the health of Captain Edmond Dantes, husband of the beautiful Mercedes."

Caderousse raised his glass; Fernand threw his to the ground.

"Eh! Eh! Eh!" cried Caderousse. "What do I see there by the wall? Look, Fernand. It seems to me like two lovers walking side by side."

"It is Edmond and Mercedes," said Fernand in a low voice.

"Hey! Edmond," cried Caderousse, rising from his seat, "do you not see your friends, or are you too proud to speak to them?"

"No, my dear fellow!" replied Dantes. "I am not proud, but I am happy. It was happiness that made me blind."

"Ah, well, that's a reason," said Caderousse. "Good day to you, Mrs. Dantes."

Mercedes bowed gravely. "That is not my name, and in my country it is said that those who are called by the married name before the marriage are never happy after. Call me Mercedes, please."

"So the marriage is to be at once?" asked Danglars.

"As soon as possible—tomorrow or the next day, here at La Reserve. We hope that you and Mr. Caderousse will be there."

"And Fernand?" said Caderousse with a laugh. "Fernand too?

"My wife's brother is my brother," said Edmond; "and we—Mercedes and I—would be very unhappy if he were not at our marriage."

Fernand opened his mouth to reply, but he was not able to say a word.

"'Tomorrow or the next day'! You are in a hurry, Captain," said Danglars.

"Danglars," said Edmond, "I will say to you what Mercedes said to Caderousse, that it is a bad thing to call me by a name which is not yet mine. We are in a hurry because I must go to Paris."

"To Paris! Have you business there?"

"Not of my own. When Captain Leclerc was on his death-bed he asked me to do something for him. You know what I mean, Danglars."

"Yes, yes, I understand," said Danglars. And then he added, speaking to himself, "To Paris, no doubt to take Marshal Bertrand's letter there. Ah! This letter gives me a thought. Dantes, my friend, you are not yet captain of the good ship Pharaoh! "

He turned towards Edmond who was walking away. "A good journey, " he cried.

"Thank you, " said Edmond, in a friendly manner. And the two lovers continued on their joyful path.