Count of Monte Cristo Chapter 71 Bread and Salt Forever Friendship is like sharing bread and salt

Madame Marcefe was accompanied by Monte Cristo to the arch formed by the interlacing of foliage.

Lined with Bodhi trees on both sides, the road leads to a greenhouse.

"It's too hot in the hall, isn't it, Count?" she asked.

"Yes, madame, you have thought so thoughtfully that you have opened both the door and the shutters." As he said these words, the Count felt Messe Tess's hand trembling. "But you," he continued, "might be a little cold wearing such thin clothes, with only a scarf?" ”

"Do you know where I'm going to take you?" The countess said that she did not answer the question of Monte Cristo.

"I don't know, madame," replied Monte Cristo, "but you know I didn't refuse. ”

"We're going to the greenhouse, and lo and behold, that greenhouse is at the end of the road."

The Count looked at Messe Tess as if to ask her something, but she just walked forward silently, and Monte Cristo did not speak. They walked to the greenhouse full of beautiful fruit. Although it was July, it was still relying on workers to control the temperature instead of the sun's heat to ripen the fruit. The Countess let go of Monte Cristo's arm and plucked a bunch of purple grapes. "Look, Count," she said with a smile, a smile so poignant that it almost felt like her eyes were filled with tears—

"Look, I know our French grapes can't be compared to your Sicilian or Cypriot grapes, but you can probably forgive us for not having enough sunshine in the north!"

The count bowed and took a step back.

"Do you refuse?" Messer Tess's voice trembled.

"Forgive me, Madame," replied Monte Cristo, "but I never eat purple grapes. ”

The grape fell to the ground from Messer Tess's hand, and he sighed. A beautiful peach hangs from the adjacent ladder, also roasted with artificial heat. "Messer Tess went over and picked the fruit." Well, eat this peach. She said.

The count still did not accept.

"What, and refusal!" Her voice was mournful, and she seemed to be trying to suppress her crying.

"Really, you're making me miserable."

This was followed by a long silence. The peach, like a grape, fell to the ground.

"Count," said Messer Tess, who looked at him with a sad and pleading look, "there is a moving arabian custom that whoever eats bread and salt together under a roof becomes a permanent friend. ”

"I know, Madame," replied the Count, "but we are in France, not in Arabia. In France, perpetual friendship is as rare as the custom of sharing bread and salt. ”

"But," said the Countess, whose eyes stared unblinkingly at Monte Cristo, and clutched his arms convulsively with both hands, nervous as if out of breath, "we are friends, aren't we?" ”

The count's face was as pale as a dead man's, and the blood seemed to rush into his heart, and then it poured upwards, staining his cheeks red; he felt only that his tears were blurred, as if he were about to faint. "Of course, we are friends," he replied.

"Why aren't we friends?"

This answer was too far removed from the one that Messe Tess had hoped for, and she turned away and let out a sigh that sounded like a groan. "Thank you," they said, and they began to walk forward again. "Your Excellency," cried the Countess suddenly after they had walked in silence for about ten minutes, "have you really seen many things, traveled great distances, and suffered greatly?" ”

"I've suffered a lot, ma'am." Monte Cristo answered.

"But you're happy now?"

"Of course," replied the count, "for no one heard my sigh. ”

"Has your present happiness softened your heart?"

"My current happiness is equal to my past pain." The count said.

"Aren't you married?" The countess asked.

"I'm married!" Monte Cristo gave a shiver and shouted. "Who told you that?"

"No one told me, but someone saw you in the theater often with a young and lovely girl."

"She was a slave girl I bought in Constantinople, Madame, a princess of the royal family. I recognized her as my righteous daughter because she had no more relatives in the world. ”

"Then you're living alone."

"I live a single life."

"You don't have a daughter, a son, a father?"

"Not a single one."

"How can you live like this? Not a single loved one?

"That's not my fault, ma'am. When I was in Malta, I loved a young girl. When I was about to marry her, a war broke out. I thought she loved me so much that she would wait for me, and would hold my grave faithfully even when I died. But when I came back, she was already married. This kind of thing is not surprising to young people in their early twenties, maybe my heart is weaker than others, others may not be as painful as me, this is my love experience. ”

The countess stopped, as if just to catch her breath. "Yes," she said, "and you, in your heart, still keep this love, a person can only fall in love once in a lifetime, have you ever seen her again?" ”

"Never!"

"Never?"

"I never went back to the place where she lived."

"In Malta?"

"Yes, in Malta."

"So, she's still in Malta?"

"I think so."

"She caused you all the pain, did you forgive her?"

"Yes, I forgive her."

"But it's not just her, so do you still hate the people who separated you from her?" The countess also had a small bunch of grapes in her hand, which emitted a fragrance. Then she stood before Monte Cristo. "Eat a little." She said.

"Madam, I never eat purple grapes." Monte Cristo replied as if the question had not been raised before.

In a desperate gesture, the countess threw the grapes into the nearest bush.

"It's really hard-hearted." She said softly. Monte Cristo was unmoved, as if this rebuke was not about him.

At this moment, Albert rushed in. "Mother!" He shouted, "Something unfortunate has happened!" ”

"What? What happened? The countess asked, as if she had suddenly woken up from a dream. You say it's unfortunate? Oh, of course it's unfortunate. ”

"Monsieur Villefort is here."

"What's wrong?"

"He came to his wife and daughter."

"Why?"

"For Madame Saint-Méléan had just arrived in Paris, bringing with it the bad news of monsieur Saint-Mérème's death, who died shortly after leaving Marseille. Madame Villefort was on her head, perhaps not hearing of the evil, or perhaps not believing that such a thing would happen. But as soon as Miss Valentine heard the conversation and noticed her father's cautious look, she guessed it all. The blow was like a thunderbolt on a sunny day, and she fainted on the spot. ”

"Who is Monsieur Saint-Mélane of Mademoiselle Villefort?" The count asked.

"It was her maternal grandfather. He had come to urge her to marry Franz. ”

"Ah. Are you sure? ”

"Well," said Albert, "Franz has no one to urge him now, why is not Monsieur Saint-Merand also the maternal grandfather of Miss Tenglaer?" ”

"Albert! Albert! Madame Malsev said in a gentle tone of reproach, "What are you talking about?" Ah, Count, he has great respect for you, please tell him that he should not speak like this. So she took two or three steps forward.

Monte Cristo looked at her with very strange eyes, and there was a trance-like but admiring expression on his face. She couldn't help but stop. Then she came up and took his hand again, and at the same time grabbed her son's hand and put the two hands together.

"We're friends, aren't we?" she asked.

"Oh, madame, I dare not call myself your friend, but I have always been your most respectful servant."

The countess went away with an indescribable pain in her heart. Before she could take ten steps, the count saw her wipe her tears with a handkerchief.

"Did your mother talk to you a little unpleasantly?" Albert asked in surprise.

"On the contrary," replied the Count, "didn't you hear her say we were friends?" ”

They returned to the hall, where Valentine and Monsieur Villefort had just left, and needless to say, Morrel followed them.