THE LION IN CONFLICT WITH THE LION
We must go back with our story four days. Sixty leagues from Uargla an immense caravan was encamped. Not a tree or a green leaf could be seen for miles around, and yet it was here that Monte-Cristo cast his tent. Hardly had he arrived at Bona than he regained the vigor of his youthful days, and two hours after his landing Monte-Cristo was already on his way to the desert with a well-organized caravan. One hundred energetic men accompanied him, and his train consisted of two hundred horses and eight hundred camels. He and Spero were at the head of the party; Bertuccio, Jacopo and Coucou followed behind. Before he had left the ship, the count had called his son aside, and putting a map before him, he pointed with his finger to Uargla and said:
"This is the place we must go to—in Uargla we shall find what we are looking for."
Monte-Cristo knew that in the centre of the desert the queen of the oases, Uargla, lay, and that it was the principal refuge of sedition. He had known that Abd-el-Kader's imprisonment was but the commencement of a long and bloody war. The name given him by the[Pg 346] Zouave, Mohammed ben Abdallah, he knew to be that of a treacherous villain. How did it happen, then, that Monte-Cristo had not recognized in the Arab who enjoyed his hospitality Mohammed ben Abdallah? The count had been rewarded for his generosity by having his cabin broken open, the contents of his safe scattered about, and being told to beware of the Khouans.
What the Fenians are to Ireland, the Thugs to India, the Khouans are to Arabia. They formed a brotherhood whose object was the murder and annihilation of all Europeans and Christians. Monte-Cristo knew the savage nature of these enemies. He was now within four days' journey of Uargla, and began to hope that perhaps he would find what he was seeking. When night came, Monte-Cristo withdrew with Spero to his tent. The count wrote to Haydee. A courier went north every day, but Monte-Cristo had not yet been able to send Mercedes any consolation. Spero, tired out by the fatigues of the day, had fallen asleep, and the father often gazed with pleasure at the finely chiselled face. How many dreams and hopes rested on this son! Yes, when he gazed at Spero, he had to confess that he had dealt too harshly with Morcerf. If he had been a father at that time, he would have hesitated before he had carried out his plan of vengeance. Ah! he must hurry and bring back to Mercedes her son, so that the punishment should not fall on Spero's head.
Suddenly Spero uttered a cry in his sleep, and looked wildly about him.
"No, no; let me go! Papa, help—they are carrying me away—help me!"
Monte-Cristo, frightened, bent over the sleeping boy.
[Pg 347]
"What is the matter, Spero?" he asked, tenderly; "have you been dreaming?"
"Oh, how glad I am it was only a dream! I will tell it to you."
"Speak, Spero, I am listening. You know," he consolingly added, "dreams are untrue."
"Yes, you have often told me that, and yet—"
The child paused and looked timidly in the corner of the tent.
"Why do you look so timidly over there?" asked the count, anxiously.
"Papa, do not laugh at me," whispered Spero, "but I do not think I was asleep. A little while ago, I saw the curtains of the tent part and a dark form appeared at the aperture."
"When was it, Spero?"
"At the moment when you laid the pen down and came to me."
"You saw me then? You were not sleeping?"
"I do not know, papa; I have read of the eye of the serpent, which frightens the little birds and prevents them from making a single movement. I could not move, and the two men drew near me. They pressed their long hands upon my forehead and wished to drag me off. Then finally I screamed and they disappeared."
Monte-Cristo embraced the excited child and reassuringly murmured:
"Keep quiet, Spero, I am with you."
Monte-Cristo looked thoughtful. Suppose his boy should be taken from him? No, it was nonsense. Spero must have been dreaming.
"Spero," he said, turning to the child, "I shall watch[Pg 348] over your slumbers! Lie down again and have no fear. Come, I will kiss you; think of your mother and go to sleep."
The boy smiled now and his pale cheeks grew rosy. His father's voice gave him courage, and, laying his head upon Monte-Cristo's shoulder, he fell asleep, murmuring: "Dear, dear mother."
When he was fast asleep, Monte-Cristo gently withdrew his arm and softly walked to the corner of the tent. The cloth of which the tent was made was very strong and thick, and withstood the rays of the sun and the rain. When the count let his hand glide over it, he almost uttered a cry of astonishment. Spero had not been dreaming! The tent had been cut from top to bottom as if with a sharp sword.
Who had any interest in breaking into his tent? Did they wish to kill him or Spero?
The count turned deadly pale. He had tried to reassure Spero by telling him that dreams were untruths, but he himself felt disturbed. Throwing the curtains of the tent aside, Monte-Cristo went out into the night. The pale moonlight shone full upon the dark rocks. With the sharp glance of an eagle Monte-Cristo gazed about. It seemed hardly possible to him that two men had gone through the camp unhindered and undisturbed, and yet it was so. The cut in the canvas was the best proof of this. Shaking his head, the count returned to the tent and mended the tear in the cloth with fine wire thread. Thereupon he shoved the table near the wall and began to write. Spero could sleep peacefully; his father was watching. Haydee had intrusted the child to him, and he had to bring it back to her in safety. [Pg 349]Suddenly he was aroused by the roar of a lion. The count seized a gun, flung his arm about Spero, whom he would not have left alone for the world, and hurried out. The Arabs, stricken with terror, had fled in all directions.
"Let no one stir!" shouted the count above the din. "I will answer for your life, but you must obey my orders."
"Here I am," said Coucou, coming forward. "Master, let me follow you. I know the lion and understand how to fight him."
"Master, take my life, but spare your own," implored Jacopo.
"Jacopo, Coucou," said the count, "I intrust Spero to you, and let no one fire until I do. The first shot belongs to me. If I should miss the lion, then you can take your turn."
A new uproar was heard, followed by the report of a gun.
"A man seems to have attacked the beast," said the count, running in the direction whence the sound proceeded.
To his horror he saw a man lying on the ground, and the lion standing over him with one paw on his breast. It was Bertuccio, Benedetto's foster-father. Carefully, fearlessly, looking into the yellow eye of the king of beasts, Monte-Cristo advanced. The lion growled. The slightest movement would have caused Bertuccio's death. With a bound it sprang at the count. Quick as thought the latter fired. With a roar of pain the majestic beast turned in the air and fell to the ground, dead. The next minute the count knelt at Bertuccio's side. The latter was unconscious. The count raised his pale face, and,[Pg 350] dashing some water over it, gradually restored the old man to his senses.
"Bertuccio," he softly said, "do you know me?"
"Yes, master. Ah, the lion has finished me! Its claws were buried like daggers in my breast."
"Have you nothing to say to me? Have you no wish to be carried out? Speak, you know I am your friend."
"Quick, quick!" he whispered, breathlessly; "one more—drop—Spero—you—"
"Drink!" said the count, placing a bottle to his lips.
"Master, beware of your enemies. I saw them, I followed them, and then I met the lion."
"Enemies, you say? How many were there?"
"Two. They were Arabs. Ajassuas, as I believe. Oh, beware of them!"
"Bertuccio, since twenty years you have been a faithful friend to me. Speak, and I swear on my honor I will do what you say."
"My dear master—it is—about—that wretch."
"You speak of Benedetto?"
"Yes. I would have killed him then if you had not held me back, but yet I am glad I did not do it. I ask you as a favor to—"
"To what?"
"To let Benedetto live, if he should ever cross your path. He must not die by your hand."
"I swear not to kill him, Bertuccio; by the head of my child."
Bertuccio muttered his thanks, and passed silently away.
[Pg 351]
"The lion has conquered the lion," whispered a voice close to the count.
Monte-Cristo turned around and saw a delicate young girl in a white bernouse.
"Who are you?" he gently asked.
[Pg 352]