“Providence still,” murmured he; “now only am I fully convinced of being the emissary of God!”
Chapter 91. Mother and Son
The Count of Monte Cristo bowed to the five young men with a melancholy and dignified smile, and got into his carriage with Maximilian and Emmanuel. Albert, Beauchamp, and Château-Renaud remained alone. Albert looked at his two friends, not timidly, but in a way that appeared to ask their opinion of what he had just done.
“Indeed, my dear friend,” said Beauchamp first, who had either the most feeling or the least dissimulation, “allow me to congratulate you; this is a very unhoped-for conclusion of a very disagreeable affair.”
Albert remained silent and wrapped in thought. Château-Renaud contented himself with tapping his boot with his flexible cane.
“Are we not going?” said he, after this embarrassing silence.
“When you please,” replied Beauchamp; “allow me only to compliment M. de Morcerf, who has given proof today of rare chivalric generosity.”
“Oh, yes,” said Château-Renaud.
“It is magnificent,” continued Beauchamp, “to be able to exercise so much self-control!”
“Assuredly; as for me, I should have been incapable of it,” said Château-Renaud, with most significant coolness.
“Gentlemen,” interrupted Albert, “I think you did not understand that something very serious had passed between M. de Monte Cristo and myself.”
“Possibly, possibly,” said Beauchamp immediately; “but every simpleton would not be able to understand your heroism, and sooner or later you will find yourself compelled to explain it to them more energetically than would be convenient to your bodily health and the duration of your life. May I give you a friendly counsel? Set out for Naples, the Hague, or St. Petersburg—calm countries, where the point of honor is better understood than among our hot-headed Parisians. Seek quietude and oblivion, so that you may return peaceably to France after a few years. Am I not right, M. de Château-Renaud?”