You’re making judgments

      “Claire is two,” Jacob told me.
      Rain started to fall. I blinked furiously as the drops pelted my face.
      Jacob waited in silence. He wore no jacket, as usual; the rain left a spatter of dark spots on his black T-
shirt, and dripped through his shaggy hair. His face was expressionless as he watched mine.
      “Quil . . . imprinted . . . with a two-year-old?” I was finally able to ask.
      “It happens.” Jacob shrugged. He bent to grab another rock and sent it flying out into the bay. “Or so the
stories say.”
      “But she’s a baby,” I protested.
      He looked at me with dark amusement. “Quil’s not getting any older,” he reminded me, a bit of acid in his
tone. “He’ll just have to be patient for a few decades.”
      “I . . . don’t know what to say.”
      I was trying my hardest not to be critical, but, in truth, I was horrified. Until now, nothing about the
werewolves had bothered me since the day I’d found out they weren’t committing the murders I’d suspected
them of.
      “You’re making judgments,” he accused. “I can see it on your face.”
      “Sorry,” I muttered. “But it sounds really creepy.”
      “It’s not like that; you’ve got it all wrong,” Jacob defended his friend, suddenly vehement. “I’ve seen what
it’s like, through his eyes. There’s nothing romantic about it at all, not for Quil, not now.” He took a deep
breath, frustrated. “It’s so hard to describe. It’s not like love at first sight, really. It’s more like . . . gravity
moves. When you see her, suddenly it’s not the earth holding you here anymore. She does. And nothing
matters more than her. And you would do anything for her, be anything for her. . . . You become whatever she
needs you to be, whether that’s a protector, or a lover, or a friend, or a brother.
      “Quil will be the best, kindest big brother any kid ever had. There isn’t a toddler on the planet that will be
more carefully looked after than that little girl will be. And then, when she’s older and needs a friend, he’ll be
more understanding, trustworthy, and reliable than anyone else she knows. And then, when she’s grown up,
they’ll be as happy as Emily and Sam.” A strange, bitter edge sharpened his tone at the very end, when he
spoke of Sam.
      “Doesn’t Claire get a choice here?”
      “Of course. But why wouldn’t she choose him, in the end? He’ll be her perfect match. Like he was
designed for her alone.”
      We walked in silence for a moment, till I paused to toss a rock toward the ocean. It fell to the beach
several meters short. Jacob laughed at me.
      “We can’t all be freakishly strong,” I muttered.
      He sighed.
      “When do you think it will happen for you?” I asked quietly.
      His answer was flat and immediate. “Never.”
      “It’s not something you can control, is it?”

It’s another one of those legend things.

     “So what is it?” I finally asked. “That everyone in your head already knows?”
     He hesitated for a moment, as if he weren’t sure how much he was going to tell me. Then he sighed and
said, “Quil imprinted. That’s three now. The rest of us are starting to get worried. Maybe it’s more common
than the stories say. . . .” He frowned, and then turned to stare at me. He gazed into my eyes without
speaking, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
     “What are you staring at?” I asked, feeling self-conscious.
     He sighed. “Nothing.”
     Jacob started walking again. Without seeming to think about it, he reached out and took my hand. We
paced silently across the rocks.
     I thought of how we must look walking hand and hand down the beach — like a couple, certainly — and
wondered if I should object. But this was the way it had always been with Jacob. . . . No reason to get
worked up about it now.
     “Why is Quil’s imprinting such a scandal?” I asked when it didn’t look like he was going to go on. “Is it
because he’s the newest one?”
     “That doesn’t have anything to do with it.”
     “Then what’s the problem?”
     “It’s another one of those legend things. I wonder when we’re going to stop being surprised that they’re
all true?” he muttered to himself.
     “Are you going to tell me? Or do I have to guess?”
     “You’d never get it right. See, Quil hasn’t been hanging out with us, you know, until just recently. So he
hadn’t been around Emily’s place much.”
     “Quil imprinted on Emily, too?” I gasped.
     “No! I told you not to guess. Emily had her two nieces down for a visit . . . and Quil met Claire.”
     He didn’t continue. I thought about that for a moment.
     “Emily doesn’t want her niece with a werewolf? That’s a little hypocritical,” I said.
     But I could understand why she of all people might feel that way. I thought again of the long scars that
marred her face and extended all the way down her right arm. Sam had lost control just once when he was
standing too close to her. Once was all it took. . . . I’d seen the pain in Sam’s eyes when he looked at what

he’d done to Emily. I could understand why Emily might want to protect her niece from that.
      “Would you please stop guessing? You’re way off. Emily doesn’t mind that part, it’s just, well, a little
early.”
      “What do you mean early?”
      Jacob appraised me with narrowed eyes. “Try not to be judgmental, okay?”
      I nodded cautiously.

Anything!

    “Hold on,” Jacob shouted.
    I hid my face in his back as he sped down the highway. I knew he would slow down when we hit the
Quileute border. I just had to hold on till then. I prayed silently and fervently that Alice wouldn’t follow, and
that Charlie wouldn’t happen to see me. . . .
    It was obvious when we had reached the safe zone. The bike slowed, and Jacob straightened up and
howled with laughter. I opened my eyes.
    “We made it,” he shouted. “Not bad for a prison break, eh?”
    “Good thinking, Jake.”
    “I remembered what you said about the psychic leech not being about to predict what I’m going to do.
I’m glad you didn’t think of this — she wouldn’t have let you go to school.”
    “That’s why I didn’t consider it.”
    He laughed triumphantly. “What do you want to do today?”
    “Anything!” I laughed back. It felt great to be free.

                                                  8. TEMPER


WE ENDED UP ON THE BEACH AGAIN, WANDERING AIMlessly. Jacob was still full of himself for engineering my
escape.
     “Do you think they’ll come looking for you?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
     “No.” I was certain about that. “They’re going to be furious with me tonight, though.”
     He picked up a rock and chucked it into the waves. “Don’t go back, then,” he suggested again.
     “Charlie would love that,” I said sarcastically.
     “I bet he wouldn’t mind.”
     I didn’t answer. Jacob was probably right, and that made me grind my teeth together. Charlie’s blatant
preference for my Quileute friends was so unfair. I wondered if he would feel the same if he knew the choice
was really between vampires and werewolves.
     “So what’s the latest pack scandal?” I asked lightly.
     Jacob skidded to a halt, and he stared down at me with shocked eyes.
     “What? That was a joke.”
     “Oh.” He looked away.
     I waited for him to start walking again, but he seemed lost in thought.
     “Is there a scandal?” I wondered.
     Jacob chuckled once. “I forget what it’s like, not having everyone know everything all the time. Having a
quiet, private place inside my head.”
     We walked along the stony beach quietly for a few minutes.

You want to do something tonight?

     “Tonight we’ll go out to Olympia or something,” she promised. “That would be fun, right?”
     “Why don’t you just lock me in the basement,” I suggested, “and forget the sugar coating?”
     Alice frowned. “He’s going to take the Porsche back. I’m not doing a very good job. You’re supposed to
be having fun.”
     “It’s not your fault,” I muttered. I couldn’t believe I actually felt guilty. “I’ll see you at lunch.”
     I trudged off to English. Without Edward, the day was guaranteed to be unbearable. I sulked through my
first class, well aware that my attitude wasn’t helping anything.
     When the bell rang, I got up without much enthusiasm. Mike was there at the door, holding it open for me.
     “Edward hiking this weekend?” he asked sociably as we walked out into the light rain.
     “Yeah.”
     “You want to do something tonight?”
     How could he still sound hopeful?
     “Can’t. I’ve got a slumber party,” I grumbled. He gave me a strange look as he processed my mood.
     “Who are you —”

    Mike’s question was cut short as a loud, growling roar erupted from behind us in the parking lot.
Everyone on the sidewalk turned to look, staring in disbelief as the noisy black motorcycle screeched to a stop
on the edge of the concrete, the engine still snarling.
    Jacob waved to me urgently.
    “Run, Bella!” he yelled over the engine’s roar.
    I was frozen for a second before I understood.
    I looked at Mike quickly. I knew I only had seconds.
    How far would Alice go to restrain me in public?
    “I got really sick and went home, okay?” I said to Mike, my voice filled with sudden excitement.
    “Fine,” he muttered.
    I pecked Mike swiftly on the cheek. “Thanks, Mike. I owe you one!” I called as I sprinted away.
    Jacob revved his engine, grinning. I jumped on the back of his seat, wrapping my arms tightly around his
waist.
    I caught sight of Alice, frozen at the edge of the cafeteria, her eyes sparking with fury, her lip curled back
over her teeth.
    I shot her one pleading glance.
    Then we were racing across the blacktop so fast that my stomach got lost somewhere behind me.

Just think about it a little.

     “With the dark curls . . . the dimples that showed even while he was grimacingin pain . . . the strange
innocence that seemed so out of place on a grown man’s face . . . he reminded me of Vera’s little Henry. I
didn’t want him to die — so much that, even though I hated this life, I was selfish enough to ask Carlisle to
change him for me.
     “I got luckier than I deserved. Emmett is everything I would have asked for if I’d known myself well
enough to know what to ask for. He’s exactly the kind of person someone like me needs. And, oddly enough,
he needs me, too. That part worked out better than I could have hoped. But there will never be more than the
two of us. And I’ll never sit on a porch somewhere, with him gray-haired by my side, surrounded by our
grandchildren.”
     Her smile was kind now. “That sounds quite bizarre to you, doesn’t it? In some ways, you are much more
mature than I was at eighteen. But in other ways . . . there are many things you’ve probably never thought
about seriously. You’re too young to know what you’ll want in ten years, fifteen years — and too young to
give it all up without thinking it through. You don’t want to be rash about permanent things, Bella.” She patted
my head, but the gesture didn’t feel condescending.
     I sighed.
     “Just think about it a little. Once it’s done, it can’t be undone. Esme’s made do with us as substitutes . . .
and Alice doesn’t remember anything human so she can’t miss it. . . . You will remember, though. It’s a lot to
give up.”
     But more to get in return, I didn’t say aloud. “Thanks, Rosalie. It’s nice to understand . . . to know you
better.”
     “I apologize for being such a monster.” She grinned. “I’ll try to behave myself from now on.”
     I grinned back at her.
     We weren’t friends yet, but I was pretty sure she wouldn’t always hate me so much.
     “I’ll let you sleep now.” Rosalie’s eyes flickered to the bed, and her lips twitched. “I know you’re
frustrated that he’s keeping you locked up like this, but don’t give him too bad a time when he gets back. He
loves you more than you know. It terrifies him to be away from you.” She got up silently and ghosted to the
door. “Goodnight, Bella,” she whispered as she shut it behind herself.
     “Goodnight, Rosalie,” I murmured a second too late.
     It took me a long time to fall asleep after that.
     When I did sleep, I had a nightmare. I was crawling across the dark, cold stones of an unfamiliar street,
under lightly falling snow, leaving a trail of blood smeared behind me. A shadowy angel in a long white dress
watched my progress with resentful eyes.
     The next morning, Alice drove me to school while I stared grumpily out the windshield. I was feeling
sleep-deprived, and it made the irritation of my imprisonment that much stronger.

He put his finger to my lips.

    I went back upstairs to search under my bed. Nothing but dust bunnies. I started to dig through my
dresser. Maybe I’d put the red shirt away and forgotten.
    I gave up when the doorbell rang. That would be Edward.
    “Door,” Charlie informed me from the couch as I skipped past him.
    “Don’t strain yourself, Dad.”
    I pulled the door open with a big smile on my face.
    Edward’s golden eyes were wide, his nostrils flared, his lips pulled back over his teeth.
    “Edward?” My voice was sharp with shock as I read his expression. “What —?”
    He put his finger to my lips. “Give me two seconds,” he whispered. “Don’t move.”
    I stood frozen on the doorstep and he . . . disappeared. He moved so quickly that Charlie wouldn’t even
have seen him pass.
    Before I could compose myself enough to count to two, he was back. He put his arm around my waist
and pulled me swiftly toward the kitchen. His eyes darted around the room, and he held me against his body
as if he were shielding me from something. I threw a glance toward Charlie on the couch, but he was
studiously ignoring us.
    “Someone’s been here,” he murmured in my ear after he pulled me to the back of the kitchen. His voice
was strained; it was difficult to hear him over the thumping of the washing machine.
    “I swear that no werewolves —” I started to say.
    “Not one of them,” he interrupted me quickly, shaking his head. “One of us.”
    His tone made it clear that he didn’t mean a member of his family.
    I felt the blood empty from my face.
    “Victoria?” I choked.
    “It’s not a scent I recognize.”
    “One of the Volturi,” I guessed.
    “Probably.”
    “When?”
    “That’s why I think it must have been them — it wasn’t long ago, early this morning while Charlie was
sleeping. And whoever it was didn’t touch him, so there must have been another purpose.”
    “Looking for me.”
    He didn’t answer. His body was frozen, a statue.
    “What are you two hissing about in here?” Charlie asked suspiciously, rounding the corner with an empty
popcorn bowl in his hands.

I paused beside the bed

    My appetite evaporated. I turned an about face and went to put my things away.
    “Aren’t you going to call Jacob?” Charlie asked. He was leaning around the living room wall, watching me
pick up.
    “No.”
    I started up the stairs.
    “That’s not very attractive behavior, Bella,” he said. “Forgiveness is divine.”
    “Mind your own business,” I muttered under my breath, much too low for him to hear.
    I knew the laundry was building up, so after I put my toothpaste away and threw my dirty clothes in the
hamper, I went to strip Charlie’s bed. I left his sheets in a pile at the top of the stairs and went to get mine.
    I paused beside the bed, cocking my head to the side.
    Where was my pillow? I turned in a circle, scanning the room. No pillow. I noticed that my room looked
oddly tidy. Hadn’t my gray sweatshirt been draped over the low bedpost on the footboard? And I would
swear there had been a pair of dirty socks behind the rocking chair, along with the red blouse I’d tried on two
mornings ago, but decided was too dressy for school, hanging over the arm. . . . I spun around again. My
hamper wasn’t empty, but it wasn’t overflowing, the way I thought it had been.
    Was Charlie doing laundry? That was out of character.
    “Dad, did you start the wash?” I shouted out my door.
    “Um, no,” he shouted back, sounding guilty. “Did you want me to?”
    “No, I got it. Were you looking for something in my room?”
    “No. Why?”
    “I can’t find . . . a shirt. . . .”
    “I haven’t been in there.”
    And then I remembered that Alice had been here to get my pajamas. I hadn’t noticed that she’d borrowed
my pillow, too — probably since I’d avoided the bed. It looked like she had cleaned while she was passing
through. I blushed for my slovenly ways.
    But that red shirt really wasn’t dirty, so I went to save it from the hamper.
    I expected to find it near the top, but it wasn’t there. I dug through the whole pile and still couldn’t find it. I

knew I was probably getting paranoid, but it seemed like something else was missing, or maybe more than one
something. I didn’t even have half a load here.
    I ripped my sheets off and headed for the laundry closet, grabbing Charlie’s on the way. The washing
machine was empty. I checked the dryer, too, half-expecting to find a washed load waiting for me, courtesy of
Alice. Nothing. I frowned, mystified.
    “Did you find what you were looking for?” Charlie yelled.
    “Not yet.”

9. TARGET

    “Strawberry blonde — not at all my type.”
    I thought about that for a while, trying to concentrate as his lips moved slowly along my cheek, down my
throat, and back up again. He made the circuit three times before I spoke.
    “I guess that’s okay, then,” I decided.
    “Hmm,” he whispered against my skin. “You’re quite adorable when you’re jealous. It’s surprisingly
enjoyable.”
    I scowled into the darkness.
    “It’s late,” he said again, murmuring, almost crooning now, his voice smoother than silk. “Sleep, my Bella.
Dream happy dreams. You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. It will always be yours. Sleep,
my only love.”
    He started to hum my lullaby, and I knew it was only a matter of time till I succumbed, so I closed my
eyes and snuggled closer into his chest.

                                                  9. TARGET


ALICE DROPPED ME OFF IN THE MORNING, IN KEEPING with the slumber party charade. It wouldn’t be long
until Edward showed up, officially returning from his “hiking” trip. All of the pretenses were starting to wear on
me. I wouldn’t miss this part of being human.
    Charlie peeked through the front window when he heard me slam the car door. He waved to Alice, and
then went to get the door for me.
    “Did you have fun?” Charlie asked.
    “Sure, it was great. Very . . . girlie.”
    I carried my stuff in, dumped it all at the foot of the stairs, and wandered into the kitchen to look for a
snack.
    “You’ve got a message,” Charlie called after me.
    On the kitchen counter, the phone message pad was propped up conspicuously against a saucepan.
    Jacob called, Charlie had written.


      He said he didn’t mean it, and that he’s sorry. He wants you to call him. Be nice and give him a
      break. He sounded upset.


    I grimaced. Charlie didn’t usually editorialize on my messages.
    Jacob could just go ahead and be upset. I didn’t want to talk to him. Last I’d heard, they weren’t big on
allowing phone calls from the other side. If Jacob preferred me dead, then maybe he should get used to the
silence.

Again he said nothing.

    “I was talking to Rosalie last night. . . .”
    His body tensed again. “Yes. She was thinking about that when I got in. She gave you quite a lot to
consider, didn’t she?”
    His voice was anxious, and I realized that he thought I wanted to talk about the reasons Rosalie’d given
me for staying human. But I was interested in something much more pressing.
    “She told me a little bit . . . about the time your family lived in Denali.”
    There was a short pause; this beginning took him by surprise. “Yes?”
    “She mentioned something about a bunch of female vampires . . . and you.”
    He didn’t answer, though I waited for a long moment.

    “Don’t worry,” I said, after the silence had grown uncomfortable. “She told me you didn’t . . . show any
preference. But I was just wondering, you know, if any of them had. Shown a preference for you, I mean.”
    Again he said nothing.
    “Which one?” I asked, trying to keep my voice casual, and not quite managing. “Or was there more than
one?”
    No answer. I wished I could see his face, so I could try to guess what this silence meant.
    “Alice will tell me,” I said. “I’ll go ask her right now.”
    His arms tightened; I was unable to squirm even an inch away.
    “It’s late,” he said. His voice had a little edge to it that was something new. Sort of nervous, maybe a little
embarrassed. “Besides, I think Alice stepped out. . . .”
    “It’s bad,” I guessed. “It’s really bad, isn’t it?” I started to panic, my heart accelerating as I imagined the
gorgeous immortal rival I’d never realized I had.
    “Calm down, Bella,” he said, kissing the tip of my nose. “You’re being absurd.”
    “Am I? Then why won’t you tell me?”
    “Because there’s nothing to tell. You’re blowing this wildly out of proportion.”
    “Which one?” I insisted.
    He sighed. “Tanya expressed a little interest. I let her know, in a very courteous, gentlemanly fashion, that
I did not return that interest. End of story.”
    I kept my voice as even as possible. “Tell me something — what does Tanya look like?”
    “Just like the rest of us — white skin, gold eyes,” he answered too quickly.
    “And, of course, extraordinarily beautiful.”
    I felt him shrug.
    “I suppose, to human eyes,” he said, indifferent. “You know what, though?”
    “What?” My voice was petulant.
    He put his lips right to my ear; his cold breath tickled. “I prefer brunettes.”
    “She’s a blonde. That figures.”

Hold on,”

    I was frozen for a second before I understood.
    I looked at Mike quickly. I knew I only had seconds.
    How far would Alice go to restrain me in public?
    “I got really sick and went home, okay?” I said to Mike, my voice filled with sudden excitement.
    “Fine,” he muttered.
    I pecked Mike swiftly on the cheek. “Thanks, Mike. I owe you one!” I called as I sprinted away.
    Jacob revved his engine, grinning. I jumped on the back of his seat, wrapping my arms tightly around his
waist.
    I caught sight of Alice, frozen at the edge of the cafeteria, her eyes sparking with fury, her lip curled back
over her teeth.
    I shot her one pleading glance.
    Then we were racing across the blacktop so fast that my stomach got lost somewhere behind me.
    “Hold on,” Jacob shouted.
    I hid my face in his back as he sped down the highway. I knew he would slow down when we hit the
Quileute border. I just had to hold on till then. I prayed silently and fervently that Alice wouldn’t follow, and
that Charlie wouldn’t happen to see me. . . .
    It was obvious when we had reached the safe zone. The bike slowed, and Jacob straightened up and
howled with laughter. I opened my eyes.
    “We made it,” he shouted. “Not bad for a prison break, eh?”
    “Good thinking, Jake.”
    “I remembered what you said about the psychic leech not being about to predict what I’m going to do.
I’m glad you didn’t think of this — she wouldn’t have let you go to school.”
    “That’s why I didn’t consider it.”
    He laughed triumphantly. “What do you want to do today?”
    “Anything!” I laughed back. It felt great to be free.

                                                  8. TEMPER


WE ENDED UP ON THE BEACH AGAIN, WANDERING AIMlessly. Jacob was still full of himself for engineering my
escape.
     “Do you think they’ll come looking for you?” he asked, sounding hopeful.
     “No.” I was certain about that. “They’re going to be furious with me tonight, though.”
     He picked up a rock and chucked it into the waves. “Don’t go back, then,” he suggested again.
     “Charlie would love that,” I said sarcastically.
     “I bet he wouldn’t mind.”
     I didn’t answer. Jacob was probably right, and that made me grind my teeth together. Charlie’s blatant
preference for my Quileute friends was so unfair. I wondered if he would feel the same if he knew the choice
was really between vampires and werewolves.

I was so angry, it took me a few minutes until I could move. When I could
walk, I made my way slowly to the exit at the end of the hallway.

The waiting room was more unpleasant than I'd feared. It seemed like
every face I knew in Forks was there, staring at me. Charlie rushed to my
side; I put up my hands.

"There's nothing wrong with me," I assured him sullenly. I was still
aggravated, not in the mood for chitchat.

"What did the doctor say?"

"Dr. Cullen saw me, and he said I was fine and I could go home." I
sighed. Mike and Jessica and Eric were all there, beginning to converge
on us. "Let's go," I urged.

Charlie put one arm behind my back, not quite touching me, and led me to
the glass doors of the exit. I waved sheepishly at my friends, hoping to
convey that they didn't need to worry anymore. It was a huge relief— the
first time I'd ever felt that way — to get into the cruiser.

We drove in silence. I was so wrapped up in my thoughts that I barely
knew Charlie was there. I was positive that Edward's defensive behavior
in the hall was a confirmation of the bizarre things I still could hardly
believe I'd witnessed.

When we got to the house, Charlie finally spoke.

"Um… you'll need to call Renée." He hung his head, guilty.

I was appalled. "You told Mom!"

"Sorry."

I slammed the cruiser's door a little harder than necessary on my way out.

He was staring at me incredulously. But his face was tense, defensive.

"You think I lifted a van off you?" His tone questioned my sanity, but it
only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfectly delivered line by a
skilled actor.

I merely nodded once, jaw tight.

"Nobody will believe that, you know." His voice held an edge of derision
now.

"I'm not going to tell anybody." I said each word slowly, carefully
controlling my anger.

Surprise flitted across his face. "Then why does it matter?"

"It matters to me," I insisted. "I don't like to lie — so there'd better
be a good reason why I'm doing it."

"Can't you just thank me and get over it?"

"Thank you." I waited, fuming and expectant.

"You're not going to let it go, are you?"

"No."

"In that case… I hope you enjoy disappointment."

We scowled at each other in silence. I was the first to speak, trying to
keep myself focused. I was in danger of being distracted by his livid,
glorious face. It was like trying to stare down a destroying angel.

"Why did you even bother?" I asked frigidly.

He paused, and for a brief moment his stunning face was unexpectedly
vulnerable.

"I don't know," he whispered.

And then he turned his back on me and walked away.

"I'd like to speak with you alone, if you don't mind," I pressed.

He glared, and then turned his back and strode down the long room. I
nearly had to run to keep up. As soon as we turned the corner into a
short hallway, he spun around to face me.

"What do you want?" he asked, sounding annoyed. His eyes were cold.

His unfriendliness intimidated me. My words came out with less severity
than I'd intended. "You owe me an explanation," I reminded him.

"I saved your life — I don't owe you anything."

I flinched back from the resentment in his voice. "You promised."

"Bella, you hit your head, you don't know what you're talking about." His
tone was cutting.

My temper flared now, and I glared defiantly at him. "There's nothing
wrong with my head."

He glared back. "What do you want from me, Bella?"

"I want to know the truth," I said. "I want to know why I'm lying for
you."

"What do you think happened?" he snapped.

It came out in a rush.

"All I know is that you weren't anywhere near me — Tyler didn't see you,
either, so don't tell me I hit my head too hard. That van was going to
crush us both — and it didn't, and your hands left dents in the side of
it — and you left a dent in the other car, and you're not hurt at all —
and the van should have smashed my legs, but you were holding it up…" I
could hear how crazy it sounded, and I couldn't continue. I was so mad I
could feel the tears coming; I tried to force them back by grinding my
teeth together.

"Someone has to spread the good news that we survived," Edward said
smugly.

"Actually," Dr. Cullen corrected, "most of the school seems to be in the
waiting room."

"Oh no," I moaned, covering my face with my hands.

Dr. Cullen raised his eyebrows. "Do you want to stay?"

"No, no!" I insisted, throwing my legs over the side of the bed and
hopping down quickly. Too quickly — I staggered, and Dr. Cullen caught
me. He looked concerned.

"I'm fine," I assured him again. No need to tell him my balance problems
had nothing to do with hitting my head.

"Take some Tylenol for the pain," he suggested as he steadied me.

"It doesn't hurt that bad," I insisted.

"It sounds like you were extremely lucky," Dr. Cullen said, smiling as he
signed my chart with a flourish.

"Lucky Edward happened to be standing next to me," I amended with a hard
glance at the subject of my statement.

"Oh, well, yes," Dr. Cullen agreed, suddenly occupied with the papers in
front of him. Then he looked away, at Tyler, and walked to the next bed.
My intuition flickered; the doctor was in on it.

"I'm afraid that you'll have to stay with us just a little bit longer,"
he said to Tyler, and began checking his cuts.

As soon as the doctor's back was turned, I moved to Edward's side.

"Can I talk to you for a minute?" I hissed under my breath. He took a
step back from me, his jaw suddenly clenched.

"Your father is waiting for you," he said through his teeth.

I glanced at Dr. Cullen and Tyler.

"It's all about who you know," he answered. "But don't worry, I came to
spring you."

Then a doctor walked around the corner, and my mouth fell open. He was

young, he was blond… and he was handsomer than any movie star I'd ever
seen. He was pale, though, and tired-looking, with circles under his
eyes. From Charlie's description, this had to be Edward's father.

"So, Miss Swan," Dr. Cullen said in a remarkably appealing voice, "how
are you feeling?"

"I'm fine," I said, for the last time, I hoped.

He walked to the lightboard on the wall over my head, and turned it on.

"Your X-rays look good," he said. "Does your head hurt? Edward said you
hit it pretty hard."

"It's fine," I repeated with a sigh, throwing a quick scowl toward Edward.

The doctor's cool fingers probed lightly along my skull. He noticed when
I winced.

"Tender?" he asked.

"Not really." I'd had worse.

I heard a chuckle, and looked over to see Edward's patronizing smile. My
eyes narrowed.

"Well, your father is in the waiting room — you can go home with him now.
But come back if you feel dizzy or have trouble with your eyesight at
all."

"Can't I go back to school?" I asked, imagining Charlie trying to be
attentive.

"Maybe you should take it easy today."

I glanced at Edward. "Does he get to go to school?"

Not even before you

　　"What for, Philip?" asked Albert, who, being a constantvisitor there, did not understand this opposition to hisentrance.

　　"Because the person who is now in the gallery prefers beingalone, and never practices in the presence of any one."

　　"Not even before you, Philip? Then who loads his pistol?"

　　"His servant."

　　"A Nubian?"

　　"A negro."

　　"It is he, then."

　　"Do you know this gentleman?"

　　"Yes, and I am come to look for him; he is a friend ofmine."

　　"Oh, that is quite another thing, then. I will goimmediately and inform him of your arrival." And Philip,urged by his own curiosity, entered the gallery; a secondafterwards, Monte Cristo appeared on the threshold. "I askyour pardon, my dear count," said Albert, "for following youhere, and I must first tell you that it was not the fault ofyour servants that I did so; I alone am to blame for theindiscretion. I went to your house, and they told me youwere out, but that they expected you home at ten o'clock tobreakfast. I was walking about in order to pass away thetime till ten o'clock, when I caught sight of your carriageand horses."

　　"What you have just said induces me to hope that you intendbreakfasting with me."

　　"No, thank you, I am thinking of other things besidesbreakfast just now; perhaps we may take that meal at a laterhour and in worse company."

　　"What on earth are you talking of?"

　　"I am to fight to-day."

Call him,

　　At the same moment, that is, at nine o'clock in the morning,Albert de Morcerf, dressed in a black coat buttoned up tohis chin, might have been seen walking with a quick andagitated step in the direction of Monte Cristo's house inthe Champs Elysees. When he presented himself at the gatethe porter informed him that the Count had gone out abouthalf an hour previously. "Did he take Baptistin with him?"

　　"No, my lord."

　　"Call him, then; I wish to speak to him." The concierge wentto seek the valet de chambre, and returned with him in aninstant.

　　"My good friend," said Albert, "I beg pardon for myintrusion, but I was anxious to know from your own mouth ifyour master was really out or not."

　　"He is really out, sir," replied Baptistin.

　　"Out, even to me?"

　　"I know how happy my master always is to receive thevicomte," said Baptistin; "and I should therefore neverthink of including him in any general order."

　　"You are right; and now I wish to see him on an affair ofgreat importance. Do you think it will be long before hecomes in?"

　　"No, I think not, for he ordered his breakfast at teno'clock."

　　"Well, I will go and take a turn in the Champs Elysees, andat ten o'clock I will return here; meanwhile, if the countshould come in, will you beg him not to go out again withoutseeing me?"

　　"You may depend on my doing so, sir," said Baptistin.

　　Albert left the cab in which he had come at the count'sdoor, intending to take a turn on foot. As he was passingthe Allee des Veuves, he thought he saw the count's horsesstanding at Gosset's shooting-gallery; he approached, andsoon recognized the coachman. "Is the count shooting in thegallery?" said Morcerf.

　　"Yes, sir," replied the coachman. While he was speaking,Albert had heard the report of two or three pistol-shots. Heentered, and on his way met the waiter. "Excuse me, mylord," said the lad; "but will you have the kindness to waita moment?"

The next morning,

　　"It is from no personal ill-feeling towards the viscount,that is all I can say, sir," replied Danglars, who resumedhis insolent manner as soon as he perceived that Morcerf wasa little softened and calmed down. "And towards whom do youbear this personal ill-feeling, then?" said Morcerf, turningpale with anger. The expression of the count's face had notremained unperceived by the banker; he fixed on him a lookof greater assurance than before, and said: "You may,perhaps, be better satisfied that I should not go fartherinto particulars."

　　A tremor of suppressed rage shook the whole frame of thecount, and making a violent effort over himself, he said: "Ihave a right to insist on your giving me an explanation. Isit Madame de Morcerf who has displeased you? Is it myfortune which you find insufficient? Is it because myopinions differ from yours?"

　　"Nothing of the kind, sir," replied Danglars: "if such hadbeen the case, I only should have been to blame, inasmuch asI was aware of all these things when I made the engagement.No, do not seek any longer to discover the reason. I reallyam quite ashamed to have been the cause of your undergoingsuch severe self-examination; let us drop the subject, andadopt the middle course of delay, which implies neither arupture nor an engagement. Ma foi, there is no hurry. Mydaughter is only seventeen years old, and your sontwenty-one. While we wait, time will be progressing, eventswill succeed each other; things which in the evening lookdark and obscure, appear but too clearly in the light ofmorning, and sometimes the utterance of one word, or thelapse of a single day, will reveal the most cruelcalumnies."

　　"Calumnies, did you say, sir?" cried Morcerf, turning lividwith rage. "Does any one dare to slander me?"

　　"Monsieur, I told you that I considered it best to avoid allexplanation."

　　"Then, sir, I am patiently to submit to your refusal?"

　　"Yes, sir, although I assure you the refusal is as painfulfor me to give as it is for you to receive, for I hadreckoned on the honor of your alliance, and the breaking offof a marriage contract always injures the lady more than thegentleman."

　　"Enough, sir," said Morcerf, "we will speak no more on thesubject." And clutching his gloves in anger, he left theapartment. Danglars observed that during the wholeconversation Morcerf had never once dared to ask if it wason his own account that Danglars recalled his word. Thatevening he had a long conference with several friends; andM. Cavalcanti, who had remained in the drawing-room with theladies, was the last to leave the banker's house.

　　The next morning, as soon as he awoke, Danglars asked forthe newspapers; they were brought to him; he laid asidethree or four, and at last fixed on the Impartial, the paperof which Beauchamp was the chief editor. He hastily tore offthe cover, opened the journal with nervous precipitation,passed contemptuously over the Paris jottings, and arrivingat the miscellaneous intelligence, stopped with a malicioussmile, at a paragraph headed "We hear from Yanina." "Verygood," observed Danglars, after having read the paragraph;"here is a little article on Colonel Fernand, which, if I amnot mistaken, would render the explanation which the Comtede Morcerf required of me perfectly unnecessary."

What do you mean to say?

　　"Well, in one of your late conversations with him, you saidthat I appeared to be forgetful and irresolute concerningthis marriage, did you not?"

　　"I did say so."

　　"Well, here I am, proving at once that I am really neitherthe one nor the other, by entreating you to keep yourpromise on that score."

　　Danglars did not answer. "Have you so soon changed yourmind," added Morcerf, "or have you only provoked my requestthat you may have the pleasure of seeing me humbled?"Danglars, seeing that if he continued the conversation inthe same tone in which he had begun it, the whole thingmight turn out to his own disadvantage, turned to Morcerf,and said: "Count, you must doubtless be surprised at myreserve, and I assure you it costs me much to act in such amanner towards you; but, believe me when I say thatimperative necessity has imposed the painful task upon me."

　　"These are all so many empty words, my dear sir," saidMorcerf: "they might satisfy a new acquaintance, but theComte de Morcerf does not rank in that list; and when a manlike him comes to another, recalls to him his plighted word,and this man fails to redeem the pledge, he has at least aright to exact from him a good reason for so doing."Danglars was a coward, but did not wish to appear so; he waspiqued at the tone which Morcerf had just assumed. "I am notwithout a good reason for my conduct," replied the banker.

　　"What do you mean to say?"

　　"I mean to say that I have a good reason, but that it isdifficult to explain."

　　"You must be aware, at all events, that it is impossible forme to understand motives before they are explained to me;but one thing at least is clear, which is, that you declineallying yourself with my family."

　　"No, sir," said Danglars; "I merely suspend my decision,that is all."

　　"And do you really flatter yourself that I shall yield toall your caprices, and quietly and humbly await the time ofagain being received into your good graces?"

　　"Then, count, if you will not wait, we must look upon theseprojects as if they had never been entertained." The countbit his lips till the blood almost started, to prevent theebullition of anger which his proud and irritable temperscarcely allowed him to restrain; understanding, however,that in the present state of things the laugh woulddecidedly be against him, he turned from the door, towardswhich he had been directing his steps, and again confrontedthe banker. A cloud settled on his brow, evincing decidedanxiety and uneasiness, instead of the expression ofoffended pride which had lately reigned there. "My dearDanglars," said Morcerf, "we have been acquainted for manyyears, and consequently we ought to make some allowance foreach other's failings. You owe me an explanation, and reallyit is but fair that I should know what circumstance hasoccurred to deprive my son of your favor."

Chapter 78We hear From Yanina.

　　"No," replied Haidee, "he did not dare to keep us, so wewere sold to some slave-merchants who were going toConstantinople. We traversed Greece, and arrived half deadat the imperial gates. They were surrounded by a crowd ofpeople, who opened a way for us to pass, when suddenly mymother, having looked closely at an object which wasattracting their attention, uttered a piercing cry and fellto the ground, pointing as she did so to a head which wasplaced over the gates, and beneath which were inscribedthese words:

　　"`This is the head of Ali Tepelini Pasha of Yanina.' I criedbitterly, and tried to raise my mother from the earth, butshe was dead! I was taken to the slave-market, and waspurchased by a rich Armenian. He caused me to be instructed,gave me masters, and when I was thirteen years of age hesold me to the Sultan Mahmood."

　　"Of whom I bought her," said Monte Cristo, "as I told you,Albert, with the emerald which formed a match to the one Ihad made into a box for the purpose of holding my hashishpills."

　　"Oh, you are good, you are great, my lord!" said Haidee,kissing the count's hand, "and I am very fortunate inbelonging to such a master!" Albert remained quitebewildered with all that he had seen and heard. "Come,finish your cup of coffee," said Monte Cristo; "the historyis ended."

　　Chapter 78We hear From Yanina.

　　If Valentine could have seen the trembling step and agitatedcountenance of Franz when he quitted the chamber of M.Noirtier, even she would have been constrained to pity him.Villefort had only just given utterance to a few incoherentsentences, and then retired to his study, where he receivedabout two hours afterwards the following letter: --

　　"After all the disclosures which were made this morning, M.Noirtier de Villefort must see the utter impossibility ofany alliance being formed between his family and that of M.Franz d'Epinay. M. d'Epinay must say that he is shocked andastonished that M. de Villefort, who appeared to be aware ofall the circumstances detailed this morning, should not haveanticipated him in this announcement."

　　No one who had seen the magistrate at this moment, sothoroughly unnerved by the recent inauspicious combinationof circumstances, would have supposed for an instant that hehad anticipated the annoyance; although it certainly neverhad occurred to him that his father would carry candor, orrather rudeness, so far as to relate such a history. And injustice to Villefort, it must be understood that M.Noirtier, who never cared for the opinion of his son on anysubject, had always omitted to explain the affair toVillefort, so that he had all his life entertained thebelief that General de Quesnel, or the Baron d'Epinay, as hewas alternately styled, according as the speaker wished toidentify him by his own family name, or by the title whichhad been conferred on him, fell the victim of assassination,and not that he was killed fairly in a duel. This harshletter, coming as it did from a man generally so polite andrespectful, struck a mortal blow at the pride of Villefort.Hardly had he read the letter, when his wife entered. Thesudden departure of Franz, after being summoned by M.Noirtier, had so much astonished every one, that theposition of Madame de Villefort, left alone with the notaryand the witnesses, became every moment more embarrassing.Determined to bear it no longer, she arose and left theroom; saying she would go and make some inquiries into thecause of his sudden disappearance.

It is the truth

　　"That is possible," said the countess, reflecting.

　　"Never mind," continued the young man, "smuggler or not, youmust agree, mother dear, as you have seen him, that theCount of Monte Cristo is a remarkable man, who will have thegreatest success in the salons of Paris. Why, this verymorning, in my rooms, he made his entree amongst us bystriking every man of us with amazement, not even exceptingChateau-Renaud."

　　"And what do you suppose is the count's age?" inquiredMercedes, evidently attaching great importance to thisquestion.

　　"Thirty-five or thirty-six, mother."

　　"So young, -- it is impossible," said Mercedes, replying atthe same time to what Albert said as well as to her ownprivate reflection.

　　"It is the truth, however. Three or four times he has saidto me, and certainly without the slightest premeditation,`at such a period I was five years old, at another ten yearsold, at another twelve,' and I, induced by curiosity, whichkept me alive to these details, have compared the dates, andnever found him inaccurate. The age of this singular man,who is of no age, is then, I am certain, thirty-five.Besides, mother, remark how vivid his eye, how raven-blackhis hair, and his brow, though so pale, is free fromwrinkles, -- he is not only vigorous, but also young." Thecountess bent her head, as if beneath a heavy wave of bitterthoughts. "And has this man displayed a friendship for you,Albert?" she asked with a nervous shudder.

　　"I am inclined to think so."

　　"And -- do -- you -- like -- him?"

　　"Why, he pleases me in spite of Franz d'Epinay, who tries toconvince me that he is a being returned from the otherworld." The countess shuddered. "Albert," she said, in avoice which was altered by emotion, "I have always put youon your guard against new acquaintances. Now you are a man,and are able to give me advice; yet I repeat to you, Albert,be prudent."

　　"Why, my dear mother, it is necessary, in order to make youradvice turn to account, that I should know beforehand what Ihave to distrust. The count never plays, he only drinks purewater tinged with a little sherry, and is so rich that hecannot, without intending to laugh at me, try to borrowmoney. What, then, have I to fear from him?"

　　"You are right," said the countess, "and my fears areweakness, especially when directed against a man who hassaved your life. How did your father receive him, Albert? Itis necessary that we should be more than complaisant to thecount. M. de Morcerf is sometimes occupied, his businessmakes him reflective, and he might, without intending it" --

What does he appear to be?

　　"I believe, mother, it is merely a title. The countpurchased an island in the Tuscan archipelago, and, as hetold you to-day, has founded a commandery. You know the samething was done for Saint Stephen of Florence, Saint George,Constantinian of Parma, and even for the Order of Malta.Except this, he has no pretension to nobility, and callshimself a chance count, although the general opinion at Romeis that the count is a man of very high distinction."

　　"His manners are admirable," said the countess, "at least,as far as I could judge in the few minutes he remainedhere."

　　"They are perfect mother, so perfect, that they surpass byfar all I have known in the leading aristocracy of the threeproudest nobilities of Europe -- the English, the Spanish,and the German." The countess paused a moment; then, after aslight hesitation, she resumed, -- "You have seen, my dearAlbert -- I ask the question as a mother -- you have seen M.de Monte Cristo in his house, you are quicksighted, havemuch knowledge of the world, more tact than is usual at yourage, do you think the count is really what he appears tobe?"

　　"What does he appear to be?"

　　"Why, you have just said, -- a man of high distinction."

　　"I told you, my dear mother, he was esteemed such."

　　"But what is your own opinion, Albert?"

　　"I must tell you that I have not come to any decided opinionrespecting him, but I think him a Maltese."

　　"I do not ask you of his origin but what he is."

　　"Ah, what he is; that is quite another thing. I have seen somany remarkable things in him, that if you would have mereally say what I think, I shall reply that I really do lookupon him as one of Byron's heroes, whom misery has markedwith a fatal brand; some Manfred, some Lara, some Werner,one of those wrecks, as it were, of some ancient family,who, disinherited of their patrimony, have achieved one bythe force of their adventurous genius, which has placed themabove the laws of society."

　　"You say" --

　　"I say that Monte Cristo is an island in the midst of theMediterranean, without inhabitants or garrison, the resortof smugglers of all nations, and pirates of every flag. Whoknows whether or not these industrious worthies do not payto their feudal lord some dues for his protection?"

Believe me

　　She thanked them both with a smile. "No," returned she, "butI feel some emotion on seeing, for the first time, the manwithout whose intervention we should have been in tears anddesolation. Monsieur," continued the countess, advancingwith the majesty of a queen, "I owe to you the life of myson, and for this I bless you. Now, I thank you for thepleasure you give me in thus affording me the opportunity ofthanking you as I have blessed you, from the bottom of myheart." The count bowed again, but lower than before; He waseven paler than Mercedes. "Madame," said he, "the count andyourself recompense too generously a simple action. To savea man, to spare a father's feelings, or a mother'ssensibility, is not to do a good action, but a simple deedof humanity." At these words, uttered with the mostexquisite sweetness and politeness, Madame de Morcerfreplied. "It is very fortunate for my son, monsieur, that hefound such a friend, and I thank God that things are thus."And Mercedes raised her fine eyes to heaven with so ferventan expression of gratitude, that the count fancied he sawtears in them. M. de Morcerf approached her. "Madame," saidhe. "I have already made my excuses to the count forquitting him, and I pray you to do so also. The sittingcommences at two; it is now three, and I am to speak."

　　"Go, then, and monsieur and I will strive our best to forgetyour absence," replied the countess, with the same tone ofdeep feeling. "Monsieur," continued she, turning to MonteCristo, "will you do us the honor of passing the rest of theday with us?"

　　"Believe me, madame, I feel most grateful for your kindness,but I got out of my travelling carriage at your door thismorning, and I am ignorant how I am installed in Paris,which I scarcely know; this is but a trifling inquietude, Iknow, but one that may be appreciated."

　　"We shall have the pleasure another time," said thecountess; "you promise that?" Monte Cristo inclined himselfwithout answering, but the gesture might pass for assent. "Iwill not detain you, monsieur," continued the countess; "Iwould not have our gratitude become indiscreet orimportunate."

　　"My dear Count," said Albert, "I will endeavor to returnyour politeness at Rome, and place my coupe at your disposaluntil your own be ready."

　　"A thousand thanks for your kindness, viscount," returnedthe Count of Monte Cristo "but I suppose that M. Bertucciohas suitably employed the four hours and a half I have givenhim, and that I shall find a carriage of some sort ready atthe door." Albert was used to the count's manner ofproceeding; he knew that, like Nero, he was in search of theimpossible, and nothing astonished him, but wishing to judgewith his own eyes how far the count's orders had beenexecuted, he accompanied him to the door of the house. MonteCristo was not deceived. As soon as he appeared in the Countof Morcerf's ante-chamber, a footman, the same who at Romehad brought the count's card to the two young men, andannounced his visit, sprang into the vestibule, and when hearrived at the door the illustrious traveller found hiscarriage awaiting him. It was a coupe of Koller's building,and with horses and harness for which Drake had, to theknowledge of all the lions of Paris, refused on the previousday seven hundred guineas. "Monsieur," said the count toAlbert, "I do not ask you to accompany me to my house, as Ican only show you a habitation fitted up in a hurry, and Ihave, as you know, a reputation to keep up as regards notbeing taken by surprise. Give me, therefore, one more daybefore I invite you; I shall then be certain not to fail inmy hospitality."

"But, monsieur,"

　　"But, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf, "for a man ofyour merit, Italy is not a country, and France opens herarms to receive you; respond to her call. France will not,perhaps, be always ungrateful. She treats her children ill,but she always welcomes strangers."

　　"Ah, father," said Albert with a smile, "it is evident youdo not know the Count of Monte Cristo; he despises allhonors, and contents himself with those written on hispassport."

　　"That is the most just remark," replied the stranger, "Iever heard made concerning myself."

　　"You have been free to choose your career," observed theCount of Morcerf, with a sigh; "and you have chosen the pathstrewed with flowers."

　　"Precisely, monsieur," replied Monte Cristo with one ofthose smiles that a painter could never represent or aphysiologist analyze.

　　"If I did not fear to fatigue you," said the general,evidently charmed with the count's manners, "I would havetaken you to the Chamber; there is a debate very curious tothose who are strangers to our modern senators."

　　"I shall be most grateful, monsieur, if you will, at somefuture time, renew your offer, but I have been flatteredwith the hope of being introduced to the countess, and Iwill therefore wait."

　　"Ah, here is my mother," cried the viscount. Monte Cristo,turned round hastily, and saw Madame de Morcerf at theentrance of the salon, at the door opposite to that by whichher husband had entered, pale and motionless; when MonteCristo turned round, she let fall her arm, which for someunknown reason had been resting on the gilded door-post. Shehad been there some moments, and had heard the last words ofthe visitor. The latter rose and bowed to the countess, whoinclined herself without speaking. "Ah, good heavens,madame," said the count, "are you ill, or is it the heat ofthe room that affects you?"

　　"Are you ill, mother?" cried the viscount, springing towardsher.

It is a great honor to me,

　　"You are most welcome, monsieur," said the Count of Morcerf,saluting Monte Cristo with a smile, "and monsieur hasrendered our house, in preserving its only heir, a servicewhich insures him our eternal gratitude." As he said thesewords, the count of Morcerf pointed to a chair, while heseated himself in another opposite the window.

　　Monte Cristo, in taking the seat Morcerf offered him, placedhimself in such a manner as to remain concealed in theshadow of the large velvet curtains, and read on thecareworn and livid features of the count a whole history ofsecret griefs written in each wrinkle time had plantedthere. "The countess," said Morcerf, "was at her toilet whenshe was informed of the visit she was about to receive. Shewill, however, be in the salon in ten minutes."

　　"It is a great honor to me," returned Monte Cristo, "to bethus, on the first day of my arrival in Paris, brought incontact with a man whose merit equals his reputation, and towhom fortune has for once been equitable, but has she notstill on the plains of Metidja, or in the mountains ofAtlas, a marshal's staff to offer you?"

　　"Oh," replied Morcerf, reddening slightly, "I have left theservice, monsieur. Made a peer at the Restoration, I servedthrough the first campaign under the orders of MarshalBourmont. I could, therefore, expect a higher rank, and whoknows what might have happened had the elder branch remainedon the throne? But the Revolution of July was, it seems,sufficiently glorious to allow itself to be ungrateful, andit was so for all services that did not date from theimperial period. I tendered my resignation, for when youhave gained your epaulets on the battle-field, you do notknow how to manoeuvre on the slippery grounds of the salons.I have hung up my sword, and cast myself into politics. Ihave devoted myself to industry; I study the useful arts.During the twenty years I served, I often wished to do so,but I had not the time."

　　"These are the ideas that render your nation superior to anyother," returned Monte Cristo. "A gentleman of high birth,possessor of an ample fortune, you have consented to gainyour promotion as an obscure soldier, step by step -- thisis uncommon; then become general, peer of France, commanderof the Legion of Honor, you consent to again commence asecond apprenticeship, without any other hope or any otherdesire than that of one day becoming useful to yourfellow-creatures; this, indeed, is praiseworthy, -- nay,more, it is sublime." Albert looked on and listened withastonishment; he was not used to see Monte Cristo give ventto such bursts of enthusiasm. "Alas," continued thestranger, doubtless to dispel the slight cloud that coveredMorcerf's brow, "we do not act thus in Italy; we growaccording to our race and our species, and we pursue thesame lines, and often the same uselessness, all our lives."

　　I freely own myself to have been struck with inexpressible delight, upon hearing this account:  and the person who gave it me happening to understand the Balnibarbian language, which I spoke very well, I could not forbear breaking out into expressions, perhaps a little too extravagant.  I cried out, as in a rapture, "Happy nation, where every child hath at least a chance for being immortal!  Happy people, who enjoy so many living examples of ancient virtue, and have masters ready to instruct them in the wisdom of all former ages! but happiest, beyond all comparison, are those excellent STRULDBRUGS, who, being born exempt from that universal calamity of human nature, have their minds free and disengaged, without the weight and depression of spirits caused by the continual apprehensions of death!"  I discovered my admiration that I had not observed any of these illustrious persons at court; the black spot on the forehead being so remarkable a distinction, that I could not have easily overlooked it:  and it was impossible that his majesty, a most judicious prince, should not provide himself with a good number of such wise and able counsellors.  Yet perhaps the virtue of those reverend sages was too strict for the corrupt and libertine manners of a court:  and we often find by experience, that young men are too opinionated and volatile to be guided by the sober dictates of their seniors.  However, since the king was pleased to allow me access to his royal person, I was resolved, upon the very first occasion, to deliver my opinion to him on this matter freely and at large, by the help of my interpreter; and whether he would please to take my advice or not, yet in one thing I was determined, that his majesty having frequently offered me an establishment in this country, I would, with great thankfulness, accept the favour, and pass my life here in the conversation of those superior beings the STRULDBRUGS, if they would please to admit me."

　　The gentleman to whom I addressed my discourse, because (as I have already observed) he spoke the language  of Balnibarbi, said to me, with a sort of a smile which usually arises from pity to the ignorant, "that he was glad of any occasion to keep me among them, and desired my permission to explain to the company what I had spoke."  He did so, and they talked together for some time in their own language, whereof I understood not a syllable, neither could I observe by their countenances, what impression my discourse had made on them.  After a short silence, the same person told me, "that his friends and mine (so he thought fit to express himself) were very much pleased with the judicious remarks I had made on the great happiness and advantages of immortal life, and they were desirous to know, in a particular manner, what scheme of living I should have formed to myself, if it had fallen to my lot to have been born a STRULDBRUG."

　　I answered, "it was easy to be eloquent on so copious and delightful a subject, especially to me, who had been often apt to amuse myself with visions of what I should do, if I were a king, a general, or a great lord:  and upon this very case, I had frequently run over the whole system how I should employ myself, and pass the time, if I were sure to live for ever.

　　The king was much delighted with my company, and ordered his BLIFFMARKLUB, or high-chamberlain, to appoint a lodging in the court for me and my interpreter; with a daily allowance for my table, and a large purse of gold for my common expenses.

　　I staid three months in this country, out of perfect obedience to his majesty; who was pleased highly to favour me, and made me very honourable offers.  But I thought it more consistent with prudence and justice to pass the remainder of my days with my wife and family.

　　CHAPTER X.

　　[The Luggnaggians commended.  A particular description of the Struldbrugs, with many conversations between the author and some eminent persons upon that subject.]

　　The Luggnaggians are a polite and generous people; and although they are not without some share of that pride which is peculiar to all Eastern countries, yet they show themselves courteous to strangers, especially such who are countenanced by the court.  I had many acquaintance, and among persons of the best fashion; and being always attended by my interpreter, the conversation we had was not disagreeable.

　　One day, in much good company, I was asked by a person of quality, "whether I had seen any of their STRULDBRUGS, or immortals?"  I said, "I had not;" and desired he would explain to me "what he meant by such an appellation, applied to a mortal creature."  He told me "that sometimes, though very rarely, a child happened to be born in a family, with a red circular spot in the forehead, directly over the left eyebrow, which was an infallible mark that it should never die."  The spot, as he described it, "was about the compass of a silver threepence, but in the course of time grew larger, and changed its colour; for at twelve years old it became green, so continued till five and twenty, then turned to a deep blue:  at five and forty it grew coal black, and as large as an English shilling; but never admitted any further alteration."  He said, "these births were so rare, that he did not believe there could be above eleven hundred struldbrugs, of both sexes, in the whole kingdom; of which he computed about fifty in the metropolis, and, among the rest, a young girl born; about three years ago: that these productions were not peculiar to any family, but a mere effect of chance; and the children of the STRULDBRUGS themselves were equally mortal with the rest of the people."

　　The despatch came from court about the time we expected.  It contained a warrant for conducting me and my retinue to TRALDRAGDUBH, or TRILDROGDRIB (for it is pronounced both ways as near as I can remember), by a party of ten horse.  All my retinue was that poor lad for an interpreter, whom I persuaded into my service, and, at my humble request, we had each of us a mule to ride on.  A messenger was despatched half a day's journey before us, to give the king notice of my approach, and to desire, "that his majesty would please to appoint a day and hour, when it would by his gracious pleasure that I might have the honour to lick the dust before his footstool."  This is the court style, and I found it to be more than matter of form:  for, upon my admittance two days after my arrival, I was commanded to crawl upon my belly, and lick the floor as I advanced; but, on account of my being a stranger, care was taken to have it made so clean, that the dust was not offensive.  However, this was a peculiar grace, not allowed to any but persons of the highest rank, when they desire an admittance.  Nay, sometimes the floor is strewed with dust on purpose, when the person to be admitted happens to have powerful enemies at court; and I have seen a great lord with his mouth so crammed, that when he had crept to the proper distance from the throne; he was not able to speak a word.  Neither is there any remedy; because it is capital for those, who receive an audience to spit or wipe their mouths in his majesty's presence.  There is indeed another custom, which I cannot altogether approve of:  when the king has a mind to put any of his nobles to death in a gentle indulgent manner, he commands the floor to be strewed with a certain brown powder of a deadly composition, which being licked up, infallibly kills him in twenty-four hours.  But in justice to this prince's great clemency, and the care he has of his subjects' lives (wherein it were much to be wished that the Monarchs of Europe would imitate him), it must be mentioned for his honour, that strict orders are given to have the infected parts of the floor well washed after every such execution, which, if his domestics neglect, they are in danger of incurring his royal displeasure.  I myself heard him give directions, that one of his pages should be whipped, whose turn it was to give notice about washing the floor after an execution, but maliciously had omitted it; by which neglect a young lord of great hopes, coming to an audience, was unfortunately poisoned, although the king at that time had no design against his life.  But this good prince was so gracious as to forgive the poor page his whipping, upon promise that he would do so no more, without special orders.

　　To return from this digression.  When I had crept within four yards of the throne, I raised myself gently upon my knees, and then striking my forehead seven times against the ground, I pronounced the following words, as they had been taught me the night before, INCKPLING GLOFFTHROBB SQUUT SERUMMBLHIOP MLASHNALT ZWIN TNODBALKUFFH SLHIOPHAD GURDLUBH ASHT.  This is the compliment, established by the laws of the land, for all persons admitted to the king's presence.  It may be rendered into English thus:  "May your celestial majesty outlive the sun, eleven moons and a half!" To this the king returned some answer, which, although I could not understand, yet I replied as I had been directed:  FLUFT DRIN YALERICK DWULDOM PRASTRAD MIRPUSH, which properly signifies, "My tongue is in the mouth of my friend;" and by this expression was meant, that I desired leave to bring my interpreter; whereupon the young man already mentioned was accordingly introduced, by whose intervention I answered as many questions as his majesty could put in above an hour.  I spoke in the Balnibarbian tongue, and my interpreter delivered my meaning in that of Luggnagg.

　　I was chiefly disgusted with modern history.  For having strictly examined all the persons of greatest name in the courts of princes, for a hundred years past, I found how the world had been misled by prostitute writers, to ascribe the greatest exploits in war, to cowards; the wisest counsel, to fools; sincerity, to flatterers; Roman virtue, to betrayers of their country; piety, to atheists; chastity, to sodomites; truth, to informers:  how many innocent and excellent persons had been condemned to death or banishment by the practising of great ministers upon the corruption of judges, and the malice of factions:  how many villains had been exalted to the highest places of trust, power, dignity, and profit:  how great a share in the motions and events of courts, councils, and senates might be challenged by bawds, whores, pimps, parasites, and buffoons.  How low an opinion I had of human wisdom and integrity, when I was truly informed of the springs and motives of great enterprises and revolutions in the world, and of the contemptible accidents to which they owed their success.

　　Here I discovered the roguery and ignorance of those who pretend to write anecdotes, or secret history; who send so many kings to their graves with a cup of poison; will repeat the discourse between a prince and chief minister, where no witness was by; unlock the thoughts and cabinets of ambassadors and secretaries of state; and have the perpetual misfortune to be mistaken.  Here I discovered the true causes of many great events that have surprised the world; how a whore can govern the back-stairs, the back-stairs a council, and the council a senate.  A general confessed, in my presence, "that he got a victory purely by the force of cowardice and ill conduct;" and an admiral, "that, for want of proper intelligence, he beat the enemy, to whom he intended to betray the fleet."  Three kings protested to me, "that in their whole reigns they never did once prefer any person of merit, unless by mistake, or treachery of some minister in whom they confided; neither would they do it if they were to live again:" and they showed, with great strength of reason, "that the royal throne could not be supported without corruption, because that positive, confident, restiff temper, which virtue infused into a man, was a perpetual clog to public business."

　　I had the curiosity to inquire in a particular manner, by what methods great numbers had procured to themselves high titles of honour, and prodigious estates; and I confined my inquiry to a very modern period:  however, without grating upon present times, because I would be sure to give no offence even to foreigners (for I hope the reader need not be told, that I do not in the least intend my own country, in what I say upon this occasion,) a great number of persons concerned were called up; and, upon a very slight examination, discovered such a scene of infamy, that I cannot reflect upon it without some seriousness.  Perjury, oppression, subornation, fraud, pandarism, and the like infirmities, were among the most excusable arts they had to mention; and for these I gave, as it was reasonable, great allowance.  But when some confessed they owed their greatness and wealth to sodomy, or incest; others, to the prostituting of their own wives and daughters; others, to the betraying of their country or their prince; some, to poisoning; more to the perverting of justice, in order to destroy the innocent, I hope I may be pardoned, if these discoveries inclined me a little to abate of that profound veneration, which I am naturally apt to pay to persons of high rank, who ought to be treated with the utmost respect due to their sublime dignity, by us their inferiors.

　　When parties in a state are violent, he offered a wonderful contrivance to reconcile them.  The method is this:  You take a hundred leaders of each party; you dispose them into couples of such whose heads are nearest of a size; then let two nice operators saw off the occiput of each couple at the same time, in such a manner that the brain may be equally divided.  Let the occiputs, thus cut off, be interchanged, applying each to the head of his opposite party-man.  It seems indeed to be a work that requires some exactness, but the professor assured us, "that if it were dexterously performed, the cure would be infallible."  For he argued thus:  "that the two half brains being left to debate the matter between themselves within the space of one skull, would soon come to a good understanding, and produce that moderation, as well as regularity of thinking, so much to be wished for in the heads of those, who imagine they come into the world only to watch and govern its motion:  and as to the difference of brains, in quantity or quality, among those who are directors in faction, the doctor assured us, from his own knowledge, that "it was a perfect trifle."

　　I heard a very warm debate between two professors, about the most commodious and effectual ways and means of raising money, without grieving the subject.  The first affirmed, "the justest method would be, to lay a certain tax upon vices and folly; and the sum fixed upon every man to be rated, after the fairest manner, by a jury of his neighbours."  The second was of an opinion directly contrary; "to tax those qualities of body and mind, for which men chiefly value themselves; the rate to be more or less, according to the degrees of excelling; the decision whereof should be left entirely to their own breast."  The highest tax was upon men who are the greatest favourites of the other sex, and the assessments, according to the number and nature of the favours they have received; for which, they are allowed to be their own vouchers. Wit, valour, and politeness, were likewise proposed to be largely taxed, and collected in the same manner, by every person's giving his own word for the quantum of what he possessed.  But as to honour, justice, wisdom, and learning, they should not be taxed at all; because they are qualifications of so singular a kind, that no man will either allow them in his neighbour or value them in himself.

　　The women were proposed to be taxed according to their beauty and skill in dressing, wherein they had the same privilege with the men, to be determined by their own judgment.  But constancy, chastity, good sense, and good nature, were not rated, because they would not bear the charge of collecting.

　　To keep senators in the interest of the crown, it was proposed that the members should raffle for employment; every man first taking an oath, and giving security, that he would vote for the court, whether he won or not; after which, the losers had, in their turn, the liberty of raffling upon the next vacancy.  Thus, hope and expectation would be kept alive; none would complain of broken promises, but impute their disappointments wholly to fortune, whose shoulders are broader and stronger than those of a ministry.

"Yes?" she asked eagerly.  "Then what happened?"

"The nine Malaita men ate the two from San Cristoval, all except the heads, which are too valuable for mere eating.  They stowed them away in the stern-locker till they landed.  And those two heads are now in some bush village back of Langa Langa."

She clapped her hands and her eyes sparkled.  "They are really and truly cannibals!  And just think, this is the twentieth century! And I thought romance and adventure were fossilized!"

He looked at her with mild amusement.

"What is the matter now?" she queried.

"Oh, nothing, only I don't fancy being eaten by a lot of filthy niggers is the least bit romantic."

"No, of course not," she admitted.  "But to be among them, controlling them, directing them, two hundred of them, and to escape being eaten by them--that, at least, if it isn't romantic, is certainly the quintessence of adventure.  And adventure and romance are allied, you know."

"By the same token, to go into a nigger's stomach should be the quintessence of adventure," he retorted.

"I don't think you have any romance in you," she exclaimed. "You're just dull and sombre and sordid like the business men at home.  I don't know why you're here at all.  You should be at home placidly vegetating as a banker's clerk or--or--"

"A shopkeeper's assistant, thank you."

"Yes, that--anything.  What under the sun are you doing here on the edge of things?"

"Earning my bread and butter, trying to get on in the world."

"'By the bitter road the younger son must tread, Ere he win to hearth and saddle of his own,'" she quoted.  "Why, if that isn't romantic, then nothing is romantic.  Think of all the younger sons out over the world, on a myriad of adventures winning to those same hearths and saddles.  And here you are in the thick of it, doing it, and here am I in the thick of it, doing it."

"Is that a joke?" she demanded.

"I really don't know--I--I thought it was, but then, you see, I'm sick."

"You're English, aren't you?" was her next query.

"Now that's too much, even for a sick man," he cried.  "You know well enough that I am."

"Oh," she said absently, "then you are?"

He frowned, tightened his lips, then burst into laughter, in which she joined.

"It's my own fault," he confessed.  "I shouldn't have baited you. I'll be careful in the future."

"In the meantime go on laughing, and I'll see about breakfast.  Is there anything you would fancy?"

He shook his head.

"It will do you good to eat something.  Your fever has burned out, and you are merely weak.  Wait a moment."

She hurried out of the room in the direction of the kitchen, tripped at the door in a pair of sandals several sizes too large for her feet, and disappeared in rosy confusion.

"By Jove, those are my sandals," he thought to himself.  "The girl hasn't a thing to wear except what she landed on the beach in, and she certainly landed in sea-boots."

"My men are not niggers.  The sooner you understand that the better for our acquaintance.  As for the tinned goods, I'll pay for all they eat.  Please don't worry about that.  Worry is not good for you in your condition.  And I won't stay any longer than I have to- -just long enough to get you on your feet, and not go away with the feeling of having deserted a white man."

"You're American, aren't you?" he asked quietly.

The question disconcerted her for the moment.

"Yes," she vouchsafed, with a defiant look.  "Why?"

"Nothing.  I merely thought so."

"Anything further?"

He shook his head.

"Why?" he asked.

"Oh, nothing.  I thought you might have something pleasant to say."

"My name is Sheldon, David Sheldon," he said, with direct relevance, holding out a thin hand.

Her hand started out impulsively, then checked.  "My name is Lackland, Joan Lackland."  The hand went out.  "And let us be friends."

"It could not be otherwise--" he began lamely.

"And I can feed my men all the tinned goods I want?" she rushed on.

"Till the cows come home," he answered, attempting her own lightness, then adding, "that is, to Berande.  You see we don't have any cows at Berande."


She fixed him coldly with her eyes.

"That I will not--not now," she retorted, with a toss of the head. "I'll find somebody to tell my story to who does not have to be asked.  Also, I want information.  I managed to find out what time to ring the bell to turn the hands to, and that is about all.  I don't understand the ridiculous speech of your people.  What time do they knock off?"

"At eleven--go on again at one."

"That will do, thank you.  And now, where do you keep the key to the provisions?  I want to feed my men."

"Your men!" he gasped.  "On tinned goods!  No, no.  Let them go out and eat with my boys."

Her eyes flashed as on the day before, and he saw again the imperative expression on her face.

"That I won't; my men are MEN.  I've been out to your miserable barracks and watched them eat.  Faugh!  Potatoes!  Nothing but potatoes!  No salt!  Nothing!  Only potatoes!  I may have been mistaken, but I thought I understood them to say that that was all they ever got to eat.  Two meals a day and every day in the week?"

He nodded.

"Well, my men wouldn't stand that for a single day, much less a whole week.  Where is the key?"

"Hanging on that clothes-hook under the clock."

He gave it easily enough, but as she was reaching down the key she heard him say:

"Fancy niggers and tinned provisions."

This time she really was angry.  The blood was in her cheeks as she turned on him.

CHAPTER XXXII

　　All day she had lived only in hope of seeing him that night. But nowthat the moment had come she was filled with dread of what she mightsee. How was he maimed? What was left of him? Was he like thatincessant moaning of the adjutant's? Yes, he was altogether like that.In her imagination he was that terrible moaning personified. Whenshe saw an indistinct shape in the corner, and mistook his kneesraised under the quilt for his shoulders, she imagined a horrible bodythere, and stood still in terror. But an irresistible impulse drew herforward. She cautiously took one step and then another, and foundherself in the middle of a small room containing baggage. Another man-Timokhin- was lying in a corner on the benches beneath the icons,and two others- the doctor and a valet- lay on the floor.

　　The valet sat up and whispered something. Timokhin, kept awake bythe pain in his wounded leg, gazed with wide-open eyes at this strangeapparition of a girl in a white chemise, dressing jacket, andnightcap. The valet's sleepy, frightened exclamation, "What do youwant? What's the matter?" made Natasha approach more swiftly to whatwas lying in the corner. Horribly unlike a man as that body looked,she must see him. She passed the valet, the snuff fell from the candlewick, and she saw Prince Andrew clearly with his arms outside thequilt, and such as she had always seen him.

　　He was the same as ever, but the feverish color of his face, hisglittering eyes rapturously turned toward her, and especially hisneck, delicate as a child's, revealed by the turn-down collar of hisshirt, gave him a peculiarly innocent, childlike look, such as she hadnever seen on him before. She went up to him and with a swift,flexible, youthful movement dropped on her knees.

　　He smiled and held out his hand to her.BK11|CH32

　　CHAPTER XXXII

　　Seven days had passed since Prince Andrew found himself in theambulance station on the field of Borodino. His feverish state and theinflammation of his bowels, which were injured, were in the doctor'sopinion sure to carry him off. But on the seventh day he ate withpleasure a piece of bread with some tea, and the doctor noticed thathis temperature was lower. He had regained consciousness that morning.The first night after they left Moscow had been fairly warm and he hadremained in the caleche, but at Mytishchi the wounded man himselfasked to be taken out and given some tea. The pain caused by hisremoval into the hut had made him groan aloud and again loseconsciousness. When he had been placed on his camp bed he lay for along time motionless with closed eyes. Then he opened them andwhispered softly: "And the tea?" His remembering such a small detailof everyday life astonished the doctor. He felt Prince Andrew's pulse,and to his surprise and dissatisfaction found it had improved. Hewas dissatisfied because he knew by experience that if his patient didnot die now, he would do so a little later with greater suffering.Timokhin, the red-nosed major of Prince Andrew's regiment, hadjoined him in Moscow and was being taken along with him, having beenwounded in the leg at the battle of Borodino. They were accompanied bya doctor, Prince Andrew's valet, his coach. man, and two orderlies.

　　For a long time Natasha listened attentively to the sounds thatreached her from inside and outside the room and did not move. Firstshe heard her mother praying and sighing and the creaking of her bedunder her, then Madame Schoss' familiar whistling snore and Sonya'sgentle breathing. Then the countess called to Natasha. Natasha did notanswer.

　　"I think she's asleep, Mamma," said Sonya softly.

　　After short silence the countess spoke again but this time no onereplied.

　　Soon after that Natasha heard her mother's even breathing. Natashadid not move, though her little bare foot, thrust out from under thequilt, was growing cold on the bare floor.

　　As if to celebrate a victory over everybody, a cricket chirped ina crack in the wall. A cock crowed far off and another replied nearby. The shouting in the tavern had died down; only the moaning ofthe adjutant was heard. Natasha sat up.

　　"Sonya, are you asleep? Mamma?" she whispered.

　　No one replied. Natasha rose slowly and carefully, crossedherself, and stepped cautiously on the cold and dirty floor with herslim, supple, bare feet. The boards of the floor creaked. Steppingcautiously from one foot to the other she ran like a kitten the fewsteps to the door and grasped the cold door handle.

　　It seemed to her that something heavy was beating rhythmicallyagainst all the walls of the room: it was her own heart, sinkingwith alarm and terror and overflowing with love.

　　She opened the door and stepped across the threshold and onto thecold, damp earthen floor of the passage. The cold she felt refreshedher. With her bare feet she touched a sleeping man, stepped overhim, and opened the door into the part of the hut where PrinceAndrew lay. It was dark in there. In the farthest corner, on a benchbeside a bed on which something was lying, stood a tallow candlewith a long, thick, and smoldering wick.

　　From the moment she had been told that of Prince Andrew's woundand his presence there, Natasha had resolved to see him. She did notknow why she had to, she knew the meeting would be painful, but feltthe more convinced that it was necessary.

　　When Natasha had been told that morning that Prince Andrew wasseriously wounded and was traveling with their party, she had at firstasked many questions: Where was he going? How was he wounded? Was itserious? And could she see him? But after she had been told that shecould not see him, that he was seriously wounded but that his life wasnot in danger, she ceased to ask questions or to speak at all,evidently disbelieving what they told her, and convinced that say whatshe might she would still be told the same. All the way she had satmotionless in a corner of the coach with wide open eyes, and theexpression in them which the countess knew so well and feared so much,and now she sat in the same way on the bench where she had seatedherself on arriving. She was planning something and either deciding orhad already decided something in her mind. The countess knew this, butwhat it might be she did not know, and this alarmed and tormented her.

　　"Natasha, undress, darling; lie down on my bed."

　　A bed had been made on a bedstead for the countess only. MadameSchoss and the two girls were to sleep on some hay on the floor.

　　"No, Mamma, I will lie down here on the floor," Natasha repliedirritably and she went to the window and opened it. Through the openwindow the moans of the adjutant could be heard more distinctly. Sheput her head out into the damp night air, and the countess saw herslim neck shaking with sobs and throbbing against the window frame.Natasha knew it was not Prince Andrew who was moaning. She knew PrinceAndrew was in the same yard as themselves and in a part of the hutacross the passage; but this dreadful incessant moaning made hersob. The countess exchanged a look with Sonya.

　　"Lie down, darling; lie down, my pet," said the countess, softlytouching Natasha's shoulders. "Come, lie down."

　　"Oh, yes... I'll lie down at once," said Natasha, and beganhurriedly undressing, tugging at the tapes of her petticoat.

　　When she had thrown off her dress and put on a dressing jacket,she sat down with her foot under her on the bed that had been madeup on the floor, jerked her thin and rather short plait of hair to thefront, and began replaiting it. Her long, thin, practiced fingersrapidly unplaited, replaited, and tied up her plait. Her head movedfrom side to side from habit, but her eyes, feverishly wide, lookedfixedly before her. When her toilet for the night was finished shesank gently onto the sheet spread over the hay on the side nearest thedoor.

　　"Natasha, you'd better lie in the middle," said Sonya.

　　"I'll stay here," muttered Natasha. "Do lie down," she addedcrossly, and buried her face in the pillow.

　　The countess, Madame Schoss, and Sonya undressed hastily and laydown. The small lamp in front of the icons was the only light leftin the room. But in the yard there was a light from the fire at LittleMytishchi a mile and a half away, and through the night came the noiseof people shouting at a tavern Mamonov's Cossacks had set up acrossthe street, and the adjutant's unceasing moans could still be heard.

CHAPTER XXXI

　　"It's more to the left, why, Little Mytishchi is over there, andthis is right on the other side."

　　Several men joined the first two.

　　"See how it's flaring," said one. "That's a fire in Moscow: eitherin the Sushchevski or the Rogozhski quarter."

　　No one replied to this remark and for some time they all gazedsilently at the spreading flames of the second fire in the distance.

　　Old Daniel Terentich, the count's valet (as he was called), cameup to the group and shouted at Mishka.

　　"What are you staring at, you good-for-nothing?... The count will becalling and there's nobody there; go and gather the clothes together."

　　"I only ran out to get some water," said Mishka.

　　"But what do you think, Daniel Terentich? Doesn't it look as if thatglow were in Moscow?" remarked one of the footmen.

　　Daniel Terentich made no reply, and again for a long time theywere all silent. The glow spread, rising and failing, farther andfarther still.

　　"God have mercy.... It's windy and dry..." said another voice.

　　"Just look! See what it's doing now. O Lord! You can even see thecrows flying. Lord have mercy on us sinners!"

　　"They'll put it out, no fear!"

　　"Who's to put it out?" Daniel Terentich, who had hitherto beensilent, was heard to say. His voice was calm and deliberate. "Moscowit is, brothers," said he. "Mother Moscow, the white..." his voicefaltered, and he gave way to an old man's sob.

　　And it was as if they had all only waited for this to realize thesignificance for them of the glow they were watching. Sighs wereheard, words of prayer, and the sobbing of the count's old valet.BK11|CH31

　　CHAPTER XXXI

　　The valet, returning to the cottage, informed the count thatMoscow was burning. The count donned his dressing gown and went out tolook. Sonya and Madame Schoss, who had not yet undressed, went outwith him. Only Natasha and the countess remained in the room. Petyawas no longer with the family, he had gone on with his regimentwhich was making for Troitsa.

　　CHAPTER XXIX

　　When the French officer went into the room with Pierre the latteragain thought it his duty to assure him that he was not French andwished to go away, but the officer would not hear of it. He was sovery polite, amiable, good-natured, and genuinely grateful to Pierrefor saving his life that Pierre had not the heart to refuse, and satdown with him in the parlor- the first room they entered. ToPierre's assurances that he was not a Frenchman, the captain,evidently not understanding how anyone could decline so flatteringan appellation, shrugged his shoulders and said that if Pierreabsolutely insisted on passing for a Russian let it be so, but for allthat he would be forever bound to Pierre by gratitude for saving hislife.

　　Had this man been endowed with the slightest capacity for perceivingthe feelings of others, and had he at all understood what Pierre'sfeelings were, the latter would probably have left him, but theman's animated obtuseness to everything other than himself disarmedPierre.

　　"A Frenchman or a Russian prince incognito," said the officer,looking at Pierre's fine though dirty linen and at the ring on hisfinger. "I owe my life to you and offer you my friendship. A Frenchmannever forgets either an insult or a service. I offer you myfriendship. That is all I can say."

　　There was so much good nature and nobility (in the French sense ofthe word) in the officer's voice, in the expression of his face and inhis gestures, that Pierre, unconsciously smiling in response to theFrenchman's smile, pressed the hand held out to him.

　　"Captain Ramballe, of the 13th Light Regiment, Chevalier of theLegion of Honor for the affair on the seventh of September," heintroduced himself, a self-satisfied irrepressible smile puckering hislips under his mustache. "Will you now be so good as to tell me withwhom I have the honor of conversing so pleasantly, instead of being inthe ambulance with that maniac's bullet in my body?"

　　Pierre replied that he could not tell him his name and, blushing,began to try to invent a name and to say something about his reasonfor concealing it, but the Frenchman hastily interrupted him.

　　"Oh, please!" said he. "I understand your reasons. You are anofficer... a superior officer perhaps. You have borne arms against us.That's not my business. I owe you my life. That is enough for me. I amquite at your service. You belong to the gentry?" he concluded witha shade of inquiry in his tone. Pierre bent his head. "Yourbaptismal name, if you please. That is all I ask. Monsieur Pierre, yousay.... That's all I want to know."