Respawned as The Count of Glow-Up-Chapter 272: The Final Promise: II

Morrel obeyed. The Count stood, unlocked a cabinet with a key hanging from his gold chain, and took out a small silver box beautifully carved and decorated. Its corners featured four sculpted figures, women resembling angels reaching toward heaven. He placed the box on the table, opened it, and removed a small golden container. The top sprang open when he touched a hidden mechanism.

Inside was a strange substance, partly solid, its true color impossible to determine because of the reflections from the polished gold, sapphires, rubies, and emeralds that decorated the box. It appeared as a swirling mass of blue, red, and gold. The Count scooped out a small amount with a gilded spoon and offered it to Morrel, fixing him with a long, steady gaze. The substance was actually greenish in color.

"This is what you asked for," he said, "and what I promised to give you."

"I thank you from the bottom of my heart," the young man said, taking the spoon from Monte Cristo’s hands.

The Count took another spoon and dipped it into the golden box again.

"What are you doing, my friend?" Morrel asked, stopping his hand.

"Well, the truth is, Morrel, I was thinking that I too am weary of life, and since the opportunity is here-"

"Stop!" the young man said. "You, who love and are loved. You, who have faith and hope, don’t follow my example. In your case, it would be a crime. Goodbye, my noble and generous friend. I’m going to tell Valentine what you’ve done for me."

Slowly, without hesitation, after pressing the Count’s hand warmly one last time, he swallowed the mysterious substance Monte Cristo had offered. Then they both fell silent.

Ali, the Count’s silent servant, brought pipes and coffee, then disappeared. Gradually, the light from the lamps began to fade, held by the marble statues. The perfumes seemed less powerful to Morrel. Seated across from him, Monte Cristo watched from the shadows. Morrel could see nothing but the Count’s bright eyes.

An overwhelming sadness took hold of the young man. His hands relaxed their grip. The objects in the room gradually lost their shape and color. His disturbed vision seemed to perceive doors and curtains opening in the walls.

"Friend," he cried, "I feel myself dying. Thank you."

He made one last effort to extend his hand, but it fell powerlessly beside him. Then it seemed to him that Monte Cristo smiled, not with that strange, frightening expression that sometimes revealed the secrets of his heart, but with the kind benevolence of a father watching over his child.

At the same time, the Count appeared to grow taller. His form, nearly double its usual height, stood out against the red tapestry. His black hair was thrown back, and he stood like an avenging angel. Overwhelmed, Morrel turned in his chair. A delicious drowsiness filled every vein. New thoughts and images tumbled through his mind like patterns in a kaleidoscope. Exhausted, weak, and breathless, he lost awareness of his surroundings. He felt himself entering that vague delirium that precedes death.

He wanted to press the Count’s hand one more time, but his own hand wouldn’t move. He wanted to speak a final farewell, but his tongue lay heavy and motionless in his throat. His tired eyes closed involuntarily, but through his eyelashes, a familiar figure seemed to move through the darkness surrounding him.

The Count had just opened a door. Immediately, brilliant light from the adjoining room flooded in, illuminating the space where Morrel was gently slipping into what he thought was his final sleep. Then he saw a woman of extraordinary beauty appear at the threshold between the two rooms. Pale and smiling sweetly, she looked like an angel of mercy confronting an angel of vengeance.

Is this heaven opening before me? the dying man thought. That angel looks like the one I lost.

Monte Cristo gestured toward Morrel, and the young woman moved toward him with clasped hands and a smile on her lips.

"Valentine! Valentine!" he cried out in his mind, but his lips made no sound. As if all his strength was concentrated in that internal emotion, he sighed and closed his eyes.

Valentine rushed to him. His lips moved again.

"He’s calling you," the Count said. "The man to whom you’ve entrusted your destiny, the man from whom death would have separated you, is calling out to you. Fortunately, I conquered death. From now on, Valentine, you’ll never be separated on earth, because he rushed into death to find you. Without me, you both would have died. May God accept my atonement through the preservation of these two lives."

Valentine grabbed the Count’s hand and, in an irresistible surge of joy, brought it to her lips.

"Oh, thank me again!" the Count said. "Tell me until you’re tired of saying it that I’ve restored your happiness. You don’t know how much I need to hear this."

"Oh yes, yes! I thank you with all my heart," Valentine said. "And if you doubt my gratitude, ask Haydée! Ask my beloved sister Haydée, who has helped me wait patiently for this happy day since we left France, always talking to me about you."

"So you love Haydée?" Monte Cristo asked, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t hide.

"Oh yes, with all my soul."

"Well then, listen, Valentine," the Count said. "I have a favor to ask of you."

"Of me? Am I really fortunate enough for that?"

"Yes. You’ve called Haydée your sister. Let her truly become one. Give her all the gratitude you think you owe me. Protect her, because," his voice grew thick with emotion, "from now on, she’ll be alone in the world."

"Alone in the world?" a voice repeated from behind the Count. "Why?"

Monte Cristo turned. Haydée stood there, pale and motionless, staring at the Count with an expression of terrible shock.

"Because tomorrow, Haydée, you’ll be free," he said. "You’ll take your rightful place in society. I won’t let my fate overshadow yours. You’re the daughter of a prince, and I’m restoring your father’s wealth and name to you."

Haydée grew pale. Lifting her delicate hands toward heaven, she exclaimed in a voice choked with tears, "Then you’re leaving me, my lord?"

"Haydée, Haydée, you’re young and beautiful. Forget even my name and be happy."

"Very well," Haydée said. "Your command will be obeyed, my lord. I’ll forget even your name and be happy." She stepped back to leave.

"Oh God!" Valentine exclaimed, supporting Morrel’s head on her shoulder. "Can’t you see how pale she is? Can’t you see how much she’s suffering?"

Haydée answered with a heartbreaking expression, "Why should he understand, my sister? He’s my master, and I’m his slave. He has the right not to notice anything."

The Count shuddered at the sound of a voice that penetrated the deepest parts of his heart. His eyes met the young woman’s, and he couldn’t bear their intensity.

"Oh God," Monte Cristo exclaimed. "Could my suspicions be correct? Haydée, would it please you to stay with me?"

"I’m young," Haydée replied gently. "I love the life you’ve made so sweet for me, and I would be sad to die."

"You mean that if I leave you, Haydée-"

"I would die. Yes, my lord."

"Do you love me, then?"

"Oh, Valentine!" Haydée cried. "He asks if I love him! Valentine, tell him if you love Maximilian!"

The Count felt his heart swell and pound. He opened his arms, and Haydée, crying out, sprang into them.

"Oh yes!" she cried. "I do love you! I love you as one loves a father, a brother, a husband! I love you as I love life itself, because you’re the best, the noblest person in existence!"

"Then let it be as you wish, sweet angel," the Count said. "God sustained me in my struggle against my enemies and has given me this reward. He won’t let me end my victory in suffering. I wanted to punish myself, but He has forgiven me. Love me then, Haydée! Who knows? Perhaps your love will help me forget everything I wish I could forget."

"What do you mean, my lord?"

"I mean that one word from you has taught me more than twenty years of painful experience. You’re all I have in the world, Haydée. Through you, I reconnect with life. Through you, I’ll suffer and rejoice."

"Do you hear him, Valentine?" Haydée exclaimed. "He says through me he’ll suffer, through me, who would give my life for his!"

The Count withdrew for a moment. "Have I discovered the truth?" he said. "Whether it’s a reward or punishment, I accept my fate. Come, Haydée, come!" Wrapping his arm around the young woman’s waist and pressing Valentine’s hand, he disappeared.

Nearly an hour passed. Valentine, breathless and motionless, watched over Morrel constantly. Finally, she felt his heartbeat return. A faint breath played across his lips. A slight tremor, announcing the return of life, passed through the young man’s body. At last, his eyes opened, though at first they were unfocused and expressionless. Then sight returned, and with it, awareness and grief.

"Oh!" he cried in despair. "The Count deceived me! I’m still alive!" He reached toward the table and grabbed a knife.

"My love," Valentine exclaimed with her beautiful smile, "wake up and look at me!"

Morrel let out a loud cry. Frantic, confused, and dazzled as if by a divine vision, he fell to his knees.

The next morning at dawn, Valentine and Morrel walked arm in arm along the seashore. Valentine explained how Monte Cristo had appeared in her room, revealed everything, exposed the crime, and ultimately saved her life by helping her fake her death.

They had found the grotto door open and emerged into the fresh morning air. On the blue dome of the sky, a few stars still glittered. Morrel soon noticed a man standing among the rocks, apparently waiting for them to signal him forward. He pointed him out to Valentine.

"Ah, that’s Jacopo," she said, "the yacht’s captain." She beckoned him over.

"Do you want to speak with us?" Morrel asked.

"I have a letter for you from the Count."

"From the Count?" the two young people murmured together.

"Yes. Read it."

Morrel opened the letter and read:

My Dear Maximilian,

A sailing vessel awaits you at anchor. Jacopo will take you to the port of Leghorn, where Monsieur Noirtier is waiting for his granddaughter. He wishes to give you his blessing before you take her to the altar.

Everything in this grotto, my friend, my house in the Champs-Élysées neighborhood and my château at Tréport, these are my wedding gifts to you, the son of my old master, Morrel. Mademoiselle de Villefort will share them with you. I urge her to donate to the poor the immense fortune she would inherit from her father, who is now insane, and from her brother, who died last September along with their mother.

Tell the angel who will watch over your future, Morrel, to sometimes pray for a man who, like Satan, thought himself equal to God for a moment, but who now acknowledges with Christian humility that God alone possesses supreme power and infinite wisdom. Perhaps those prayers will soften the remorse he feels in his heart.

As for you, Morrel, this is the secret of how I’ve treated you. There is neither happiness nor misery in the world. There is only the comparison of one state with another, nothing more. The person who has felt the deepest grief is best able to experience supreme happiness. We must have felt what it’s like to die, Morrel, in order to truly appreciate the joy of living.

Live, then, and be happy, beloved children of my heart. Never forget that until the day God reveals the future to humanity, all human wisdom can be summed up in these two words: Wait and hope.

Your friend,

Edmond Dantès, Count of Monte Cristo

As Valentine read the letter, learning for the first time about her father’s madness and her brother’s death, she grew pale. A heavy sigh escaped her chest, and tears, painful despite their silence, ran down her cheeks. Her happiness had cost her dearly.

Morrel looked around anxiously. "But," he said, "the Count’s generosity is too overwhelming. Valentine will be satisfied with my humble fortune. Where is the Count, friend? Take me to him."

Jacopo pointed toward the horizon.

"What do you mean?" Valentine asked. "Where is the Count? Where is Haydée?"

"Look," Jacopo said.

Their eyes fixed on the spot the sailor indicated. On the blue line where the sky met the Mediterranean Sea, they saw a large white sail.

"Gone," Morrel said. "Gone! Farewell, my friend. Farewell, my father!"

"Gone," Valentine murmured. "Farewell, my sweet Haydée. Farewell, my sister!"

"Who can say if we’ll ever see them again?" Morrel said, his eyes filled with tears.

"Darling," Valentine replied, "didn’t the Count just tell us that all human wisdom is summed up in two words?"

Wait and hope.