Esperance was alone; his brow was thoughtful. He sank into a chair andburied his face in his hands. Suddenly he started up, and drawing asidethe heavy portiere over a door, entered a small, dark room that seemedto be an oratory.
Stained glass windows admitted an uncertain light. Esperance threw openthe sash and the daylight streamed in, and with it the delicious breezeof spring. Esperance turned to the wall, on which hung a fine picture ofMonte-Cristo. Next this portrait hung one of his mother.
The young man spoke aloud. "Father!" he said, "mother! listen to me,judge me and counsel me. Who and what am I? What is my future to be? AmI guilty or am I--mad?"
Esperance shivered. Then throwing his head back proudly, he said, "No, Iam not mad, and yet I cannot understand myself. Oh! father, why did Inot have courage to speak to you frankly? You would have understood meand encouraged me. I am afraid of life, I am afraid of myself--afraid ofthe very name I bear, and of your greatness, the shadow of which fallson me."
In the letter written by Monte-Cristo to his son, he had spoken thetruth. He had not thought sufficiently of developing the especialcharacteristics of his son, and had made of him a philosopher.
Esperance had been compelled to reason calmly on all subjects, and theinconsequence of youth had been frowned upon by his father.
Edmond Dantes had been young, vivacious and full of illusions and hopes.Monte-Cristo forgot this, and forgot that Esperance was but twenty. Hehad been kind and loving to Esperance; he had, as he believed, armed himfor the battle of life, but he had extinguished his boyishness andengrafted the seeds of distrust.
Esperance never accused his father, but the result of this education wasthat he was afraid of himself and others. Monte-Cristo saw his sonsilent and sad at times, but he did not realize that it was because hehad quenched the youth in him and made him prematurely old. He moreoversuddenly became convinced that it was best for Esperance to leave him,and therefore departed silently and mysteriously.
Esperance was armed against the tragedies of life, but not against itsdaily annoyances.
Esperance had enormous muscular strength, and yet he was weak to resistsorrow. He could have held his hand on a brazier of burning coals, buthe would have started at a pin-prick. And now that Monte-Cristo hadgone, Esperance felt like a child deprived of its mother.
A bell rang, announcing a visitor.
He passed his hand over his brow. Then addressing the dear portraitsonce more, "Beloved mother!" he murmured, "give me your enthusiasm andyour delicacy, and, my father, give me strength and courage. God grantthat I may be worthy of you both!"
He went to the window, and gazed up at the blue sky with an expressionthat was almost mystical. Then he closed the room, and returned to hischamber.
Coucon appeared bearing two cards on a silver tray.
Esperance looked at the cards, and uttered an exclamation of joy.
"Lay two more covers," he said, "I will come down at once."