I don’t think it’s them

    “Edward,” I said, a quiet reproof. I didn’t like him talking to Alice this way.
    Carlisle interrupted in a calming voice. “It’s not an exact science, Edward.”
    “He was in her room, Alice. He could have still been there — waiting for her.”
    “I would have seen that.”
    Edward threw his hands up in exasperation. “Really? You’re sure?”
    Alice’s voice was cold when she answered. “You’ve already got me watching the Volturis’ decisions,
watching for Victoria’s return, watching Bella’s every step. You want to add another? Do I just have to watch
Charlie, or Bella’s room, or the house, or the whole street, too? Edward, if I try to do too much, things are
going to start slipping through the cracks.”
    “It looks like they already are,” Edward snapped.
    “She was never in any danger. There was nothing to see.”
    “If you’re watching Italy, why didn’t you see them send —”
    “I don’t think it’s them,” Alice insisted. “I would have seen that.”
    “Who else would leave Charlie alive?”
    I shuddered.
    “I don’t know,” Alice said.
    “Helpful.”
    “Stop it, Edward,” I whispered.
    He turned on me, his face still livid, his teeth clenched together. He glared at me for half a second, and
then, suddenly, he exhaled. His eyes widened and his jaw relaxed.
    “You’re right, Bella. I’m sorry.” He looked at Alice. “Forgive me, Alice. I shouldn’t be taking this out on
you. That was inexcusable.”
    “I understand,” Alice assured him. “I’m not happy about it, either.”
    Edward took a deep breath. “Okay, let’s look at this logically. What are the possibilities?”
    Everyone seemed to thaw out at once. Alice relaxed and leaned against the back of the couch. Carlisle
walked slowly toward her, his eyes far away. Esme sat on the sofa in front of Alice, curling her legs up on the
seat. Only Rosalie remained unmoving, her back to us, staring out the glass wall.
    Edward pulled me to the sofa and I sat next to Esme, who shifted to put her arm around me. He held one
of my hands tightly in both of his.
    “Victoria?” Carlisle asked.
    Edward shook his head. “No. I didn’t know the scent. He might have been from the Volturi, someone
I’ve never met. . . .”
    Alice shook her head. “Aro hasn’t asked anyone to look for her yet. I will see that. I’m waiting for it.”
    Edward’s head snapped up. “You’re watching for an official command.”
    “You think someone’s acting on their own? Why?”
    “Caius’s idea,” Edward suggested, his face tightening again.
    “Or Jane’s . . . ,” Alice said. “They both have the resources to send an unfamiliar face. . . .”
    Edward scowled. “And the motivation.”

I felt green.

    “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 felt green. A vampire had been in the house looking for me while Charlie slept. Panic overwhelmed me,
closed my throat. I couldn’t answer, I just stared at him in horror.
    Charlie’s expression changed. Abruptly, he was grinning. “If you two are having a fight . . . well, don’t let
me interrupt.”
    Still grinning, he put his bowl in the sink and sauntered out of the room.
    “Let’s go,” Edward said in a low hard voice.
    “But Charlie!” The fear was squeezing my chest, making it hard to breathe.
    He deliberated for a short second, and then his phone was in his hand.
    “Emmett,” he muttered into the receiver. He began talking so fast that I couldn’t understand the words. It
was over in half a minute. He started pulling me toward the door.
    “Emmett and Jasper are on their way,” he whispered when he felt my resistance. “They’ll sweep the
woods. Charlie is fine.”
    I let him drag me along then, too panicked to think clearly. Charlie met my frightened eyes with a smug

grin, which suddenly turned to confusion. Edward had me out the door before Charlie could say anything.
    “Where are we going?” I couldn’t stop whispering, even after we were in the car.
    “We’re going to talk to Alice,” he told me, his volume normal but his voice bleak.
    “You think maybe she saw something?”
    He stared at the road through narrowed eyes. “Maybe.”
    They were waiting for us, on alert after Edward’s call. It was like walking into a museum, everyone still as
statues in various poses of stress.
    “What happened?” Edward demanded as soon as we were through the door. I was shocked to see that
he was glowering at Alice, his hands fisted in anger.
    Alice stood with her arms folded tight across her chest. Only her lips moved. “I have no idea. I didn’t see
anything.”
    “How is that possible?” he hissed.

I went back upstairs to search under my bed.

    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.”
    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.

Aren’t you going to call Jacob?

    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.
    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.”

I scowled into the darkness.

    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.”
    “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.

What are you staring at?

     “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.
     “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.

But you love Emmett . . .

    “I think so.”
    “I can tell.” Then she sighed. “I haven’t been fair to you, either, Bella. Did he tell you why? Or was that
too confidential?”
    “He said it was because I was human. He said it was harder for you to have someone on the outside who
knew.”
    Rosalie’s musical laughter interrupted me. “Now I really feel guilty. He’s been much, much kinder to me
than I deserve.” She seemed warmer as she laughed, like she’d let down some guard that had never been
absent in my presence before. “What a liar that boy is.” She laughed again.
    “He was lying?” I asked, suddenly wary.
    “Well, that’s probably putting it too strongly. He just didn’t tell you the whole story. What he told you was
true, even truer now than it was before. However, at the time . . .” She broke off, chuckling nervously. “It’s
embarrassing. You see, at first, I was mostly jealous because he wanted you and not me.”
    Her words sent a thrill of fear through me. Sitting there in the silver light, she was more beautiful than
anything else I could imagine. I could not compete with Rosalie.
    “But you love Emmett . . . ,” I mumbled.
    She shook her head back and forth, amused. “I don’t want Edward that way, Bella. I never did — I love
him as a brother, but he’s irritated me from the first moment I heard him speak. You have to understand,
though . . . I was so used to people wanting me. And Edward wasn’t the least bit interested. It frustrated me,
even offended me in the beginning. But he never wanted anyone, so it didn’t bother me long. Even when we
first met Tanya’s clan in Denali — all those females! — Edward never showed the slightest preference. And
then he met you.” She looked at me with confused eyes. I was only half paying attention. I was thinking about
Edward and Tanya and all those females, and my lips pressed together in a hard line.
    “Not that you aren’t pretty, Bella,” she said, misreading my expression. “But it just meant that he found
you more attractive than me. I’m vain enough that I minded.”
    “But you said ‘at first.’ That doesn’t still . . . bother you, does it? I mean, we both know you’re the most
beautiful person on the planet.”
    I laughed at having to say the words — it was so obvious. How odd that Rosalie should need such
reassurances.
    Rosalie laughed, too. “Thanks, Bella. And no, it doesn’t really bother me anymore. Edward has always
been a little strange.” She laughed again.
    “But you still don’t like me,” I whispered.
    Her smile faded. “I’m sorry about that.”

I did murder five humans

    “I’d believed enough of what he’d told me that his words terrified me. I knew that my life was ended, and
there was no going back for me. I couldn’t stand the thought of being alone. . . .
    “The pain finally ended and they explained to me again what I was. This time I believed. I felt the thirst, my
hard skin; I saw my brilliant red eyes.
    “Shallow as I was, I felt better when I saw my reflection in the mirror the first time. Despite the eyes, I was
the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen.” She laughed at herself for a moment. “It took some time before I began
to blame the beauty for what had happened to me — for me to see the curse of it. To wish that I had been . . .
well, not ugly, but normal. Like Vera. So I could have been allowed to marry someone who loved me, and
have pretty babies. That’s what I’d really wanted, all along. It still doesn’t seem like too much to have asked
for.”
    She was thoughtful for a moment, and I wondered if she’d forgotten my presence again. But then she
smiled at me, her expression suddenly triumphant.
    “You know, my record is almost as clean as Carlisle’s,” she told me. “Better than Esme. A thousand times
better than Edward. I’ve never tasted human blood,” she announced proudly.
    She understood my puzzled expression as I wondered why her record was only almost as clean.
    “I did murder five humans,” she told me in a complacent tone. “If you can really call them human. But I
was very careful not to spill their blood — I knew I wouldn’t be able to resist that, and I didn’t want any part
of them in me, you see.
    “I saved Royce for last. I hoped that he would hear of his friends’ deaths and understand, know what was
coming for him. I hoped the fear would make the end worse for him. I think it worked. He was hiding inside a
windowless room behind a door as thick as a bank vault’s, guarded outside by armed men, when I caught up
with him. Oops — seven murders,” she corrected herself. “I forgot about his guards. They only took a
second.”
    “I was overly theatrical. It was kind of childish, really. I wore a wedding dress I’d stolen for the occasion.
He screamed when he saw me. He screamed a lot that night. Saving him for last was a good idea — it made it
easier for me to control myself, to make it slower —”
    She broke off suddenly, and she glanced down at me. “I’m sorry,” she said in a chagrined voice. “I’m
frightening you, aren’t I?”
    “I’m fine,” I lied.
    “I got carried away.”
    “Don’t worry about it.”
    “I’m surprised Edward didn’t tell you more about it.”
    “He doesn’t like to tell other people’s stories — he feels like he’s betraying confidences, because he hears
so much more than just the parts they mean for him to hear.”
    She smiled and shook her head. “I probably ought to give him more credit. He’s really quite decent, isn’t
he?”

My parents approved

     Rosalie sighed, and when she spoke again her voice was different, the wistfulness gone.
     “In Rochester, there was one royal family — the Kings, ironically enough. Royce King owned the bank
my father worked at, and nearly every other really profitable business in town. That’s how his son, Royce
King the Second” — her mouth twisted around the name, it came out through her teeth — “saw me the first
time. He was going to take over at the bank, and so he began overseeing the different positions. Two days
later, my mother conveniently forgot to send my father’s lunch to work with him. I remember being confused
when she insisted that I wear my white organza and roll my hair up just to run over to the bank.” Rosalie
laughed without humor.
     “I didn’t notice Royce watching me particularly. Everyone watched me. But that night the first of the roses
came. Every night of our courtship, he sent a bouquet of roses to me. My room was always overflowing with
them. It got to the point that I would smell like roses when I left the house.
     “Royce was handsome, too. He had lighter hair than I did, and pale blue eyes. He said my eyes were like
violets, and then those started showing up alongside the roses.
     “My parents approved — that’s putting it mildly. This was everything they’d dreamed of. And Royce
seemed to be everything I’d dreamed of. The fairy tale prince, come to make me a princess. Everything I
wanted, yet it was still no more than I expected. We were engaged before I’d known him for two months.
     “We didn’t spend a great deal of time alone with each other. Royce told me he had many responsibilities
at work, and, when we were together, he liked people to look at us, to see me on his arm. I liked that, too.
There were lots of parties, dancing, and pretty dresses. When you were a King, every door was open for you,
every red carpet rolled out to greet you.
     “It wasn’t a long engagement. Plans went ahead for the most lavish wedding. It was going to be everything
I’d ever wanted. I was completely happy. When I called at Vera’s, I no longer felt jealous. I pictured my fair-
haired children playing on the huge lawns of the Kings’ estate, and I pitied her.”
     Rosalie broke off suddenly, clenching her teeth together. It pulled me out of her story, and I realized that
the horror was not far off. There would be no happy ending, as she’d promised. I wondered if this was why
she had so much more bitterness in her than the rest of them — because she’d been within reach of everything
she’d wanted when her human life was cut short.
     “I was at Vera’s that night,” Rosalie whispered. Her face was smooth as marble, and as hard. “Her little
Henry really was adorable, all smiles and dimples — he was just sitting up on his own. Vera walked me to the
door as I was leaving, her baby in her arms and her husband at her side, his arm around her waist. He kissed
her on the cheek when he thought I wasn’t looking. That bothered me. When Royce kissed me, it wasn’t quite

the same — not so sweet somehow. . . . I shoved that thought aside. Royce was my prince. Someday, I
would be queen.”

I knew what I wanted out of life

     “My parents were thoroughly middle class. My father had a stable job in a bank, something I realize now
that he was smug about — he saw his prosperity as a reward for talent and hard work, rather than
acknowledging the luck involved. I took it all for granted then; in my home, it was as if the Great Depression
was only a troublesome rumor. Of course I saw the poor people, the ones who weren’t as lucky. My father
left me with the impression that they’d brought their troubles on themselves.
     “It was my mother’s job to keep our house — and myself and my two younger brothers — in spotless
order. It was clear that I was both her first priority and her favorite. I didn’t fully understand at the time, but I
was always vaguely aware that my parents weren’t satisfied with what they had, even if it was so much more
than most. They wanted more. They had social aspirations — social climbers, I suppose you could call them.
My beauty was like a gift to them. They saw so much more potential in it than I did.
     “They weren’t satisfied, but I was. I was thrilled to be me, to be Rosalie Hale. Pleased that men’s eyes
watched me everywhere I went, from the year I turned twelve. Delighted that my girlfriends sighed with envy

when they touched my hair. Happy that my mother was proud of me and that my father liked to buy me pretty
dresses.
     “I knew what I wanted out of life, and there didn’t seem to be any way that I wouldn’t get exactly what I
wanted. I wanted to be loved, to be adored. I wanted to have a huge, flowery wedding, where everyone in
town would watch me walk down the aisle on my father’s arm and think I was the most beautiful thing they’d
ever seen. Admiration was like air to me, Bella. I was silly and shallow, but I was content.” She smiled,
amused at her own evaluation.
     “My parents’ influence had been such that I also wanted the material things of life. I wanted a big house
with elegant furnishings that someone else would clean and a modern kitchen that someone else would cook
in. As I said, shallow. Young and very shallow. And I didn’t see any reason why I wouldn’t get these things.
     “There were a few things I wanted that were more meaningful. One thing in particular. My very closest
friend was a girl named Vera. She married young, just seventeen. She married a man my parents would never
have considered for me — a carpenter. A year later she had a son, a beautiful little boy with dimples and curly
black hair. It was the first time I’d ever felt truly jealous of anyone else in my entire life.”
     She looked at me with unfathomable eyes. “It was a different time. I was the same age as you, but I was
ready for it all. I yearned for my own little baby. I wanted my own house and a husband who would kiss me
when he got home from work — just like Vera. Only I had a very different kind of house in mind. . . .”
     It was hard for me to imagine the world that Rosalie had known. Her story sounded more like a fairy tale
than history to me. With a slight shock, I realized that this was very close to the world that Edward would
have experienced when he was human, the world he had grown up in. I wondered — while Rosalie sat silent
for a moment — if my world seemed as baffling to him as Rosalie’s did to me?

You say that a lot,

"Don't worry — I don't understand any of it," I said wryly.

"I'm counting on that."

"So, in plain English, are we friends now?"

"Friends…" he mused, dubious.

"Or not," I muttered.

He grinned. "Well, we can try, I suppose. But I'm warning you now that
I'm not a good friend for you." Behind his smile, the warning was real.

"You say that a lot," I noted, trying to ignore the sudden trembling in
my stomach and keep my voice even.

"Yes, because you're not listening to me. I'm still waiting for you to
believe it. If you're smart, you'll avoid me."

"I think you've made your opinion on the subject of my intellect clear,
too." My eyes narrowed.

He smiled apologetically.

"So, as long as I'm being… not smart, we'll try to be friends?" I
struggled to sum up the confusing exchange.

"That sounds about right."

I looked down at my hands wrapped around the lemonade bottle, not sure
what to do now.

"What are you thinking?" he asked curiously.

I looked up into his deep gold eyes, became befuddled, and, as usual,
blurted out the truth.

"I'm trying to figure out what you are."

He seemed to be waiting for me to say something.

"This is different," I finally managed.

"Well…" He paused, and then the rest of the words followed in a rush. "I
decided as long as I was going to hell, I might as well do it thoroughly."

I waited for him to say something that made sense. The seconds ticked by.

"You know I don't have any idea what you mean," I eventually pointed out.

"I know." He smiled again, and then he changed the subject. "I think your
friends are angry with me for stealing you."

"They'll survive." I could feel their stares boring into my back.

"I may not give you back, though," he said with a wicked glint in his
eyes.

I gulped.

He laughed. "You look worried."

"No," I said, but, ridiculously, my voice broke. "Surprised, actually…
what brought all this on?"

"I told you — I got tired of trying to stay away from you. So I'm giving
up." He was still smiling, but his ocher eyes were serious.

"Giving up?" I repeated in confusion.

"Yes — giving up trying to be good. I'm just going to do what I want now,
and let the chips fall where they may." His smile faded as he explained,
and a hard edge crept into his voice.

"You lost me again."

The breathtaking crooked smile reappeared.

"I always say too much when I'm talking to you — that's one of the
problems."

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again,"

Disappointment flooded through me as my eyes unerringly focused on his
table. The other four were there, but he was absent. Had he gone home? I
followed the still-babbling Jessica through the line, crushed. I'd lost
my appetite — I bought nothing but a bottle of lemonade. I just wanted to
go sit down and sulk.

"Edward Cullen is staring at you again," Jessica said, finally breaking
through my abstraction with his name. "I wonder why he's sitting alone
today."

My head snapped up. I followed her gaze to see Edward, smiling crookedly,
staring at me from an empty table across the cafeteria from where he
usually sat. Once he'd caught my eye, he raised one hand and motioned
with his index finger for me to join him. As I stared in disbelief, he
winked.

"Does he mean you?" Jessica asked with insulting astonishment in her
voice.

"Maybe he needs help with his Biology homework," I muttered for her
benefit. "Um, I'd better go see what he wants."

I could feel her staring after me as I walked away.

When I reached his table, I stood behind the chair across from him,
unsure.

"Why don't you sit with me today?" he asked, smiling.

I sat down automatically, watching him with caution. He was still
smiling. It was hard to believe that someone so beautiful could be real.
I was afraid that he might disappear in a sudden puff of smoke, and I
would wake up.

5. BLOOD TYPE

5. BLOOD TYPE




I made my way to English in a daze. I didn't even realize when I first
walked in that class had already started.

"Thank you for joining us, Miss Swan," Mr. Mason said in a disparaging
tone.

I flushed and hurried to my seat.

It wasn't till class ended that I realized Mike wasn't sitting in his
usual seat next to me. I felt a twinge of guilt. But he and Eric both met
me at the door as usual, so I figured I wasn't totally unforgiven. Mike
seemed to become more himself as we walked, gaining enthusiasm as he
talked about the weather report for this weekend. The rain was supposed
to take a minor break, and so maybe his beach trip would be possible. I
tried to sound eager, to make up for disappointing him yesterday. It was
hard; rain or no rain, it would still only be in the high forties, if we
were lucky.

The rest of the morning passed in a blur. It was difficult to believe
that I hadn't just imagined what Edward had said, and the way his eyes
had looked. Maybe it was just a very convincing dream that I'd confused
with reality. That seemed more probable than that I really appealed to
him on any level.

So I was impatient and frightened as Jessica and I entered the cafeteria.
I wanted to see his face, to see if he'd gone back to the cold,
indifferent person I'd known for the last several weeks. Or if, by some
miracle, I'd really heard what I thought I'd heard this morning. Jessica
babbled on and on about her dance plans — Lauren and Angela had asked the
other boys and they were all going together — completely unaware of my
inattention.

I don't see how that is any of your business.

I was still stunned. "Why?"

"Well, I was planning to go to Seattle in the next few weeks, and, to be
honest, I'm not sure if your truck can make it."

"My truck works just fine, thank you very much for your concern." I
started to walk again, but I was too surprised to maintain the same level
of anger.

"But can your truck make it there on one tank of gas?" He matched my pace
again.

"I don't see how that is any of your business." Stupid, shiny Volvo owner.

"The wasting of finite resources is everyone's business."

"Honestly, Edward." I felt a thrill go through me as I said his name, and
I hated it. "I can't keep up with you. I thought you didn't want to be my
friend."

"I said it would be better if we weren't friends, not that I didn't want
to be."

"Oh, thanks, now that's all cleared up." Heavy sarcasm. I realized I had
stopped walking again. We were under the shelter of the cafeteria roof
now, so I could more easily look at his face. Which certainly didn't help
my clarity of thought.

"It would be more… prudent for you not to be my friend," he explained.
"But I'm tired of trying to stay away from you, Bella."

His eyes were gloriously intense as he uttered that last sentence, his
voice smoldering. I couldn't remember how to breathe.

"Will you go with me to Seattle?" he asked, still intense.

I couldn't speak yet, so I just nodded.

He smiled briefly, and then his face became serious.

"You really should stay away from me," he warned. "I'll see you in class."

He turned abruptly and walked back the way we'd come.

===========================================================================

Oh, that is charming

　　"Certainly you give a most commonplace air to yourexplanation, but it is not the less true that you -- Ah, butwhat do I hear?" and Morcerf inclined his head towards thedoor, through which sounds seemed to issue resembling thoseof a guitar.

　　"Ma foi, my dear viscount, you are fated to hear music thisevening; you have only escaped from Mademoiselle Danglars'piano, to be attacked by Haidee's guzla."

　　"Haidee -- what an adorable name! Are there, then, reallywomen who bear the name of Haidee anywhere but in Byron'spoems?"

　　"Certainly there are. Haidee is a very uncommon name inFrance, but is common enough in Albania and Epirus; it is asit you said, for example, Chastity, Modesty, Innocence, --it is a kind of baptismal name, as you Parisians call it."

　　"Oh, that is charming," said Albert, "how I should like tohear my countrywomen called Mademoiselle Goodness,Mademoiselle Silence, Mademoiselle Christian Charity! Onlythink, then, if Mademoiselle Danglars, instead of beingcalled Claire-Marie-Eugenie, had been named MademoiselleChastity-Modesty-Innocence Danglars; what a fine effect thatwould have produced on the announcement of her marriage!"

　　"Hush," said the count, "do not joke in so loud a tone;Haidee may hear you, perhaps."

　　"And you think she would be angry?"

　　"No, certainly not," said the count with a haughtyexpression.

　　"She is very amiable, then, is she not?" said Albert.

　　"It is not to be called amiability, it is her duty; a slavedoes not dictate to a master."

　　"Come; you are joking yourself now. Are there any moreslaves to be had who bear this beautiful name?"

　　"Undoubtedly."

　　"Really, count, you do nothing, and have nothing like otherpeople. The slave of the Count of Monte Cristo! Why, it is arank of itself in France, and from the way in which youlavish money, it is a place that must be worth a hundredthousand francs a year."

　　"A hundred thousand francs! The poor girl originallypossessed much more than that; she was born to treasures incomparison with which those recorded in the `Thousand andOne Nights' would seem but poverty."

　　"She must be a princess then."

　　"You are right; and she is one of the greatest in hercountry too."

Certainly I will.

　　"It must be farther off than even that."

　　"But what do I know of your Parisian husbands?"

　　"Oh, my dear count, husbands are pretty much the sameeverywhere; an individual husband of any country is a prettyfair specimen of the whole race."

　　"But then, what can have led to the quarrel between Danglarsand Debray? They seemed to understand each other so well,"said Monte Cristo with renewed energy.

　　"Ah, now you are trying to penetrate into the mysteries ofIsis, in which I am not initiated. When M. Andrea Cavalcantihas become one of the family, you can ask him thatquestion." The carriage stopped. "Here we are," said MonteCristo; "it is only half-past ten o'clock, come in."

　　"Certainly I will."

　　"My carriage shall take you back."

　　"No, thank you; I gave orders for my coupe to follow me."

　　"There it is, then," said Monte Cristo, as he stepped out ofthe carriage. They both went into the house; thedrawing-room was lighted up -- they went in there. "You willmake tea for us, Baptistin," said the count. Baptistin leftthe room without waiting to answer, and in two secondsreappeared, bringing on a waiter all that his master hadordered, ready prepared, and appearing to have sprung fromthe ground, like the repasts which we read of in fairytales. "Really, my dear count," said Morcerf. "what I admirein you is, not so much your riches, for perhaps there arepeople even wealthier than yourself, nor is it only yourwit, for Beaumarchais might have possessed as much, -- butit is your manner of being served, without any questions, ina moment, in a second; it is as it they guessed what youwanted by your manner of ringing, and made a point ofkeeping everything you can possibly desire in constantreadiness."

　　"What you say is perhaps true; they know my habits. Forinstance, you shall see; how do you wish to occupy yourselfduring tea-time?"

　　"Ma foi, I should like to smoke."

　　Monte Cristo took the gong and struck it once. In about thespace of a second a private door opened, and Ali appeared,bringing two chibouques filled with excellent latakia. "Itis quite wonderful," said Albert.

　　"Oh no, it is as simple as possible," replied Monte Cristo."Ali knows I generally smoke while I am taking my tea orcoffee; he has heard that I ordered tea, and he also knowsthat I brought you home with me; when I summoned him henaturally guessed the reason of my doing so, and as he comesfrom a country where hospitality is especially manifestedthrough the medium of smoking, he naturally concludes thatwe shall smoke in company, and therefore brings twochibouques instead of one -- and now the mystery is solved."

Do you wish me to do so?

　　"Prove it to me."

　　"Do you wish me to do so?"

　　"Yes."

　　"Well, I am charged with the commission of endeavoring toinduce the Comte de Morcerf to make some definitearrangement with the baron."

　　"By whom are you charged?"

　　"By the baron himself."

　　"Oh," said Albert with all the cajolery of which he wascapable. "You surely will not do that, my dear count?"

　　"Certainly I shall, Albert, as I have promised to do it."

　　"Well," said Albert, with a sigh, "it seems you aredetermined to marry me."

　　"I am determined to try and be on good terms with everybody,at all events," said Monte Cristo. "But apropos of Debray,how is it that I have not seen him lately at the baron'shouse?"

　　"There has been a misunderstanding."

　　"What, with the baroness?"

　　"No, with the baron."

　　"Has he perceived anything?"

　　"Ah, that is a good joke!"

　　"Do you think he suspects?" said Monte Cristo with charmingartlessness.

　　"Where have you come from, my dear count?" said Albert.

　　"From Congo, if you will."

I am certain of it

　　"Ah, no joking, viscount, if you please; I do not patronizeM. Andrea -- at least, not as concerns M. Danglars."

　　"And you would be to blame for not assisting him, if theyoung man really needed your help in that quarter, but,happily for me, he can dispense with it."

　　"What, do you think he is paying his addresses?"

　　"I am certain of it; his languishing looks and modulatedtones when addressing Mademoiselle Danglars fully proclaimhis intentions. He aspires to the hand of the proudEugenie."

　　"What does that signify, so long as they favor your suit?"

　　"But it is not the case, my dear count: on the contrary. Iam repulsed on all sides."

　　"What!"

　　"It is so indeed; Mademoiselle Eugenie scarcely answers me,and Mademoiselle d'Armilly, her confidant, does not speak tome at all."

　　"But the father has the greatest regard possible for you,"said Monte Cristo.

　　"He? Oh, no, he has plunged a thousand daggers into myheart, tragedy-weapons, I own, which instead of woundingsheathe their points in their own handles, but daggers whichhe nevertheless believed to be real and deadly."

　　"Jealousy indicates affection."

　　"True; but I am not jealous."

　　"He is."

　　"Of whom? -- of Debray?"

　　"No, of you."

　　"Of me? I will engage to say that before a week is past thedoor will be closed against me."

　　"You are mistaken, my dear viscount."

Indeed?

　　"Stop," said Albert, "here he comes. I shall complimentMademoiselle Danglars on her cameo, while the father talksto you."

　　"If you compliment her at all, let it be on her voice, atleast," said Monte Cristo.

　　"No, every one would do that."

　　"My dear viscount, you are dreadfully impertinent." Albertadvanced towards Eugenie, smiling. Meanwhile, Danglars,stooping to Monte Cristo's ear, "Your advice was excellent,"said he; "there is a whole history connected with the namesFernand and Yanina."

　　"Indeed?" said Monte Cristo.

　　"Yes, I will tell you all; but take away the young man; Icannot endure his presence."

　　"He is going with me. Shall I send the father to you?"

　　"Immediately."

　　"Very well." The count made a sign to Albert and they bowedto the ladies, and took their leave, Albert perfectlyindifferent to Mademoiselle Danglars' contempt, Monte Cristoreiterating his advice to Madame Danglars on the prudence abanker's wife should exercise in providing for the future.M. Cavalcanti remained master of the field.

　　Chapter 77Haidee.

　　Scarcely had the count's horses cleared the angle of theboulevard, than Albert, turning towards the count, burstinto a loud fit of laughter -- much too loud in fact not togive the idea of its being rather forced and unnatural."Well," said he, "I will ask you the same question whichCharles IX. put to Catherine de Medicis, after the massacreof Saint Bartholomew, `How have I played my little part?'"

　　"To what do you allude?" asked Monte Cristo.

　　"To the installation of my rival at M. Danglars'."

　　"What rival?"

　　"Ma foi, what rival? Why, your protege, M. AndreaCavalcanti!"

Precisely,

　　"Our expedition made a favorable beginning. We anchored ourvessel -- which had a double hold, where our goods wereconcealed -- amidst a number of other vessels that borderedthe banks of the Rhone from Beaucaire to Arles. On ourarrival we began to discharge our cargo in the night, and toconvey it into the town, by the help of the inn-keeper withwhom we were connected. Whether success rendered usimprudent, or whether we were betrayed, I know not; but oneevening, about five o'clock, our little cabin-boy camebreathlessly, to inform us that he had seen a detachment ofcustom-house officers advancing in our direction. It was nottheir proximity that alarmed us, for detachments wereconstantly patrolling along the banks of the Rhone, but thecare, according to the boy's account, that they took toavoid being seen. In an instant we were on the alert, but itwas too late; our vessel was surrounded, and amongst thecustom-house officers I observed several gendarmes, and, asterrified at the sight of their uniforms as I was brave atthe sight of any other, I sprang into the hold, opened aport, and dropped into the river, dived, and only rose atintervals to breathe, until I reached a ditch that hadrecently been made from the Rhone to the canal that runsfrom Beaucaire to Aigues-Mortes. I was now safe, for I couldswim along the ditch without being seen, and I reached thecanal in safety. I had designedly taken this direction. Ihave already told your excellency of an inn-keeper fromNimes who had set up a little tavern on the road fromBellegarde to Beaucaire."

　　"Yes," said Monte Cristo "I perfectly recollect him; I thinkhe was your colleague."

　　"Precisely," answered Bertuccio; "but he had, seven or eightyears before this period, sold his establishment to a tailorat Marseilles, who, having almost ruined himself in his oldtrade, wished to make his fortune in another. Of course, wemade the same arrangements with the new landlord that we hadwith the old; and it was of this man that I intended to askshelter."

　　"What was his name?" inquired the count, who seemed tobecome somewhat interested in Bertuccio's story.

　　"Gaspard Caderousse; he had married a woman from the villageof Carconte, and whom we did not know by any other name thanthat of her village. She was suffering from malarial fever,and seemed dying by inches. As for her husband, he was astrapping fellow of forty, or five and forty, who had morethan once, in time of danger, given ample proof of hispresence of mind and courage."

　　"And you say," interrupted Monte Cristo "that this tookplace towards the year" --

　　"1829, your excellency."

　　"In what month?"

　　"June."

　　"The beginning or the end?"

　　"The evening of the 3d."

　　"Ah," said Monte Cristo "the evening of the 3d of June,1829. Go on."

`Are you mad

　　"We never knew who had revealed this fatal secret, which wehad so carefully concealed from him; however, it was thisanswer, in which the child's whole character revealeditself, that almost terrified me, and my arm fell withouttouching him. The boy triumphed, and this victory renderedhim so audacious, that all the money of Assunta, whoseaffection for him seemed to increase as he became moreunworthy of it, was spent in caprices she knew not how tocontend against, and follies she had not the courage toprevent. When I was at Rogliano everything went on properly,but no sooner was my back turned than Benedetto becamemaster, and everything went ill. When he was only eleven, hechose his companions from among the young men of eighteen ortwenty, the worst characters in Bastia, or, indeed, inCorsica, and they had already, for some mischievous pranks,been several times threatened with a prosecution. I becamealarmed, as any prosecution might be attended with seriousconsequences. I was compelled, at this period, to leaveCorsica on an important expedition; I reflected for a longtime, and with the hope of averting some impendingmisfortune, I resolved that Benedetto should accompany me. Ihoped that the active and laborious life of a smuggler, withthe severe discipline on board, would have a salutary effecton his character, which was now well-nigh, if not quite,corrupt. I spoke to Benedetto alone, and proposed to him toaccompany me, endeavoring to tempt him by all the promisesmost likely to dazzle the imagination of a child of twelve.He heard me patiently, and when I had finished, burst outlaughing.

　　"`Are you mad, uncle?' (he called me by this name when hewas in good humor); `do you think I am going to change thelife I lead for your mode of existence -- my agreeableindolence for the hard and precarious toil you impose onyourself, exposed to the bitter frost at night, and thescorching heat by day, compelled to conceal yourself, andwhen you are perceived, receive a volley of bullets, all toearn a paltry sum? Why, I have as much money as I want;mother Assunta always furnishes me when I ask for it! Yousee that I should be a fool to accept your offer.' Thearguments, and his audacity, perfectly stupefied me.Benedetto rejoined his associates, and I saw him from adistance point me out to them as a fool."

　　"Sweet child," murmured Monte Cristo.

　　"Oh, had he been my own son," replied Bertuccio, "or even mynephew, I would have brought him back to the right road, forthe knowledge that you are doing your duty gives youstrength, but the idea that I was striking a child whosefather I had killed, made it impossible for me to punishhim. I gave my sister, who constantly defended theunfortunate boy, good advice, and as she confessed that shehad several times missed money to a considerable amount, Ishowed her a safe place in which to conceal our littletreasure for the future. My mind was already made up.Benedetto could read, write, and cipher perfectly, for whenthe fit seized him, he learned more in a day than others ina week. My intention was to enter him as a clerk in someship, and without letting him know anything of my plan, toconvey him some morning on board; by this means his futuretreatment would depend upon his own conduct. I set off forFrance, after having fixed upon the plan. Our cargo was tobe landed in the Gulf of Lyons, and this was a difficultthing to do because it was then the year 1829. The mostperfect tranquillity was restored, and the vigilance of thecustom-house officers was redoubled, and their strictnesswas increased at this time, in consequence of the fair atBeaucaire.

The story will be very long

　　"In your service, excellency, where everything is learned."

　　"Go on, I am curious to know two things."

　　"What are they, your excellency ?"

　　"What became of this little boy? for I think you told me itwas a boy, M. Bertuccio."

　　"No excellency, I do not recollect telling you that."

　　"I thought you did; I must have been mistaken."

　　"No, you were not, for it was in reality a little boy. Butyour excellency wished to know two things; what was thesecond?"

　　"The second was the crime of which you were accused when youasked for a confessor, and the Abbe Busoni came to visit youat your request in the prison at Nimes."

　　"The story will be very long, excellency."

　　"What matter? you know I take but little sleep, and I do notsuppose you are very much inclined for it either." Bertucciobowed, and resumed his story.

　　"Partly to drown the recollections of the past that hauntedme, partly to supply the wants of the poor widow, I eagerlyreturned to my trade of smuggler, which had become more easysince that relaxation of the laws which always follows arevolution. The southern districts were ill-watched inparticular, in consequence of the disturbances that wereperpetually breaking out in Avignon, Nimes, or Uzes. Weprofited by this respite on the part of the government tomake friends everywhere. Since my brother's assassination inthe streets of Nimes, I had never entered the town; theresult was that the inn-keeper with whom we were connected,seeing that we would no longer come to him, was forced tocome to us, and had established a branch to his inn, on theroad from Bellegarde to Beaucaire, at the sign of the Pontdu Gard. We had thus, at Aigues-Mortes, Martigues, or Bouc,a dozen places where we left our goods, and where, in caseof necessity, we concealed ourselves from the gendarmes andcustom-house officers. Smuggling is a profitable trade, whena certain degree of vigor and intelligence is employed; asfor myself, brought up in the mountains, I had a doublemotive for fearing the gendarmes and custom-house officers,as my appearance before the judges would cause an inquiry,and an inquiry always looks back into the past. And in mypast life they might find something far more grave than theselling of smuggled cigars, or barrels of brandy without apermit. So, preferring death to capture, I accomplished themost astonishing deeds, and which, more than once, showed methat the too great care we take of our bodies is the onlyobstacle to the success of those projects which requirerapid decision, and vigorous and determined execution. Inreality, when you have once devoted your life to yourenterprises, you are no longer the equal of other men, or,rather, other men are no longer your equals, and whosoeverhas taken this resolution, feels his strength and resourcesdoubled."

And what did you do with the child?

　　"Ah," said Monte Cristo "it seems to me this was nothing butmurder and robbery."

　　"No, your excellency," returned Bertuccio; "it was avendetta followed by restitution."

　　"And was the sum a large one?"

　　"It was not money."

　　"Ah, I recollect," replied the count; "did you not saysomething of an infant?"

　　"Yes, excellency; I hastened to the river, sat down on thebank, and with my knife forced open the lock of the box. Ina fine linen cloth was wrapped a new-born child. Its purplevisage, and its violet-colored hands showed that it hadperished from suffocation, but as it was not yet cold, Ihesitated to throw it into the water that ran at my feet.After a moment I fancied that I felt a slight pulsation ofthe heart, and as I had been assistant at the hospital atBastia, I did what a doctor would have done -- I inflatedthe lungs by blowing air into them, and at the expiration ofa quarter of an hour, it began to breathe, and cried feebly.In my turn I uttered a cry, but a cry of joy. `God has notcursed me then,' I cried, `since he permits me to save thelife of a human creature, in exchange for the life I havetaken away.'"

　　"And what did you do with the child?" asked Monte Cristo."It was an embarrassing load for a man seeking to escape."

　　"I had not for a moment the idea of keeping it, but I knewthat at Paris there was an asylum where they receive suchcreatures. As I passed the city gates I declared that I hadfound the child on the road, and I inquired where the asylumwas; the box confirmed my statement, the linen proved thatthe infant belonged to wealthy parents, the blood with whichI was covered might have proceeded from the child as well asfrom any one else. No objection was raised, but they pointedout the asylum, which was situated at the upper end of theRue d'Enfer, and after having taken the precaution ofcutting the linen in two pieces, so that one of the twoletters which marked it was on the piece wrapped around thechild, while the other remained in my possession, I rang thebell, and fled with all speed. A fortnight after I was atRogliano, and I said to Assunta, -- `Console thyself,sister; Israel is dead, but he is avenged.' She demandedwhat I meant, and when I had told her all, -- `Giovanni,'said she, `you should have brought this child with you; wewould have replaced the parents it has lost, have called itBenedetto, and then, in consequence of this good action, Godwould have blessed us.' In reply I gave her the half of thelinen I had kept in order to reclaim him if we became rich."

　　"What letters were marked on the linen?" said Monte Cristo.

　　"An H and an N, surmounted by a baron's coronet."

　　"By heaven, M. Bertuccio, you make use of heraldic terms;where did you study heraldry?"

One evening

　　"I looked at him an instant to see if there was anything tohope from further entreaty. But he was a man of stone. Iapproached him, and said in a low voice, `Well, since youknow the Corsicans so well, you know that they always keeptheir word. You think that it was a good deed to kill mybrother, who was a Bonapartist, because you are a royalist.Well, I, who am a Bonapartist also, declare one thing toyou, which is, that I will kill you. From this moment Ideclare the vendetta against you, so protect yourself aswell as you can, for the next time we meet your last hourhas come.' And before he had recovered from his surprise, Iopened the door and left the room."

　　"Well, well," said Monte Cristo, "such an innocent lookingperson as you are to do those things, M. Bertuccio, and to aking's attorney at that! But did he know what was meant bythe terrible word `vendetta'?"

　　"He knew so well, that from that moment he shut himself inhis house, and never went out unattended, seeking me highand low. Fortunately, I was so well concealed that he couldnot find me. Then he became alarmed, and dared not stay anylonger at Nimes, so he solicited a change of residence, and,as he was in reality very influential, he was nominated toVersailles. But, as you know, a Corsican who has sworn toavenge himself cares not for distance, so his carriage, fastas it went, was never above half a day's journey before me,who followed him on foot. The most important thing was, notto kill him only -- for I had an opportunity of doing so ahundred times -- but to kill him without being discovered --at least, without being arrested. I no longer belonged tomyself, for I had my sister-in-law to protect and providefor. For three months I watched M. de Villefort, for threemonths he took not a step out-of-doors without my followinghim. At length I discovered that he went mysteriously toAuteuil. I followed him thither, and I saw him enter thehouse where we now are, only, instead of entering by thegreat door that looks into the street, he came on horseback,or in his carriage, left the one or the other at the littleinn, and entered by the gate you see there." Monte Cristomade a sign with his head to show that he could discern inthe darkness the door to which Bertuccio alluded. "As I hadnothing more to do at Versailles, I went to Auteuil, andgained all the information I could. If I wished to surprisehim, it was evident this was the spot to lie in wait forhim. The house belonged, as the concierge informed yourexcellency, to M. de Saint-Meran, Villefort's father-in-law.M. de Saint-Meran lived at Marseilles, so that this countryhouse was useless to him, and it was reported to be let to ayoung widow, known only by the name of `the baroness.'

　　"One evening, as I was looking over the wall, I saw a youngand handsome woman who was walking alone in that garden,which was not overlooked by any windows, and I guessed thatshe was awaiting M. de Villefort. When she was sufficientlynear for me to distinguish her features, I saw she was fromeighteen to nineteen, tall and very fair. As she had a loosemuslin dress on and as nothing concealed her figure, I sawshe would ere long become a mother. A few moments after, thelittle door was opened and a man entered. The young womanhastened to meet him. They threw themselves into eachother's arms, embraced tenderly, and returned together tothe house. The man was M. de Villefort; I fully believedthat when he went out in the night he would be forced totraverse the whole of the garden alone."

　　"And," asked the count, "did you ever know the name of thiswoman?"

　　"No, excellency," returned Bertuccio; "you will see that Ihad no time to learn it."

　　"Go on."

We came at length to the house

　　This lord Munodi was a person of the first rank, and had been some years governor of Lagado; but, by a cabal of ministers, was discharged for insufficiency.  However, the king treated him with tenderness, as a well-meaning man, but of a low contemptible understanding.

　　When I gave that free censure of the country and its inhabitants, he made no further answer than by telling me, "that I had not been long enough among them to form a judgment; and that the different nations of the world had different customs;" with other common topics to the same purpose.  But, when we returned to his palace, he asked me "how I liked the building, what absurdities I observed, and what quarrel I had with the dress or looks of his domestics?" This he might safely do; because every thing about him was magnificent, regular, and polite.  I answered, "that his excellency's prudence, quality, and fortune, had exempted him from those defects, which folly and beggary had produced in others."  He said, "if I would go with him to his country-house, about twenty miles distant, where his estate lay, there would be more leisure for this kind of conversation."  I told his excellency "that I was entirely at his disposal;" and accordingly we set out next morning.

　　During our journey he made me observe the several methods used by farmers in managing their lands, which to me were wholly unaccountable; for, except in some very few places, I could not discover one ear of corn or blade of grass.  But, in three hours travelling, the scene was wholly altered; we came into a most beautiful country; farmers' houses, at small distances, neatly built; the fields enclosed, containing vineyards, corn-grounds, and meadows.  Neither do I remember to have seen a more delightful prospect.  His excellency observed my countenance to clear up; he told me, with a sigh, "that there his estate began, and would continue the same, till we should come to his house:  that his countrymen ridiculed and despised him, for managing his affairs no better, and for setting so ill an example to the kingdom; which, however, was followed by very few, such as were old, and wilful, and weak like himself."

　　We came at length to the house, which was indeed a noble structure, built according to the best rules of ancient architecture.  The fountains, gardens, walks, avenues, and groves, were all disposed with exact judgment and taste.  I gave due praises to every thing I saw, whereof his excellency took not the least notice till after supper; when, there being no third companion, he told me with a very melancholy air "that he doubted he must throw down his houses in town and country, to rebuild them after the present mode; destroy all his plantations, and cast others into such a form as modern usage required, and give the same directions to all his tenants, unless he would submit to incur the censure of pride, singularity, affectation, ignorance, caprice, and perhaps increase his majesty's displeasure; that the admiration I appeared to be under would cease or diminish, when he had informed me of some particulars which, probably, I never heard of at court, the people there being too much taken up in their own speculations, to have regard to what passed here below."

CHAPTER IV.

　　But there is still indeed a more weighty reason, why the kings of this country have been always averse from executing so terrible an action, unless upon the utmost necessity.  For, if the town intended to be destroyed should have in it any tall rocks, as it generally falls out in the larger cities, a situation probably chosen at first with a view to prevent such a catastrophe; or if it abound in high spires, or pillars of stone, a sudden fall might endanger the bottom or under surface of the island, which, although it consist, as I have said, of one entire adamant, two hundred yards thick, might happen to crack by too great a shock, or burst by approaching too near the fires from the houses below, as the backs, both of iron and stone, will often do in our chimneys.  Of all this the people are well apprised, and understand how far to carry their obstinacy, where their liberty or property is concerned.  And the king, when he is highest provoked, and most determined to press a city to rubbish, orders the island to descend with great gentleness, out of a pretence of tenderness to his people, but, indeed, for fear of breaking the adamantine bottom; in which case, it is the opinion of all their philosophers, that the loadstone could no longer hold it up, and the whole mass would fall to the ground.

　　By a fundamental law of this realm, neither the king, nor either of his two eldest sons, are permitted to leave the island; nor the queen, till she is past child-bearing.

　　CHAPTER IV.

　　[The author leaves Laputa; is conveyed to Balnibarbi; arrives at the metropolis.  A description of the metropolis, and the country adjoining.  The author hospitably received by a great lord.  His conversation with that lord.]

　　Although I cannot say that I was ill treated in this island, yet I must confess I thought myself too much neglected, not without some degree of contempt; for neither prince nor people appeared to be curious in any part of knowledge, except mathematics and music, wherein I was far their inferior, and upon that account very little regarded.

　　On the other side, after having seen all the curiosities of the island, I was very desirous to leave it, being heartily weary of those people.  They were indeed excellent in two sciences for which I have great esteem, and wherein I am not unversed; but, at the same time, so abstracted and involved in speculation, that I never met with such disagreeable companions.  I conversed only with women, tradesmen, flappers, and court-pages, during two months of my abode there; by which, at last, I rendered myself extremely contemptible; yet these were the only people from whom I could ever receive a reasonable answer.

　　I had obtained, by hard study, a good degree of knowledge in their language:  I was weary of being confined to an island where I received so little countenance, and resolved to leave it with the first opportunity.

They have observed ninety-three different comets

　　They spend the greatest part of their lives in observing the celestial bodies, which they do by the assistance of glasses, far excelling ours in goodness.  For, although their largest telescopes do not exceed three feet, they magnify much more than those of a hundred with us, and show the stars with greater clearness.  This advantage has enabled them to extend their discoveries much further than our astronomers in Europe; for they have made a catalogue of ten thousand fixed stars, whereas the largest of ours do not contain above one third part of that number.  They have likewise discovered two lesser stars, or satellites, which revolve about Mars; whereof the innermost is distant from the centre of the primary planet exactly three of his diameters, and the outermost, five; the former revolves in the space of ten hours, and the latter in twenty-one and a half; so that the squares of their periodical times are very near in the same proportion with the cubes of their distance from the centre of Mars; which evidently shows them to be governed by the same law of gravitation that influences the other heavenly bodies.

　　They have observed ninety-three different comets, and settled their periods with great exactness.  If this be true (and they affirm it with great confidence) it is much to be wished, that their observations were made public, whereby the theory of comets, which at present is very lame and defective, might be brought to the same perfection with other arts of astronomy.

　　The king would be the most absolute prince in the universe, if he could but prevail on a ministry to join with him; but these having their estates below on the continent, and considering that the office of a favourite has a very uncertain tenure, would never consent to the enslaving of their country.

　　If any town should engage in rebellion or mutiny, fall into violent factions, or refuse to pay the usual tribute, the king has two methods of reducing them to obedience.  The first and the mildest course is, by keeping the island hovering over such a town, and the lands about it, whereby he can deprive them of the benefit of the sun and the rain, and consequently afflict the inhabitants with dearth and diseases:  and if the crime deserve it, they are at the same time pelted from above with great stones, against which they have no defence but by creeping into cellars or caves, while the roofs of their houses are beaten to pieces.  But if they still continue obstinate, or offer to raise insurrections, he proceeds to the last remedy, by letting the island drop directly upon their heads, which makes a universal destruction both of houses and men. However, this is an extremity to which the prince is seldom driven, neither indeed is he willing to put it in execution; nor dare his ministers advise him to an action, which, as it would render them odious to the people, so it would be a great damage to their own estates, which all lie below; for the island is the king's demesne.

By this oblique motion

　　By means of this loadstone, the island is made to rise and fall, and move from one place to another.  For, with respect to that part of the earth over which the monarch presides, the stone is endued at one of its sides with an attractive power, and at the other with a repulsive.  Upon placing the magnet erect, with its attracting end towards the earth, the island descends; but when the repelling extremity points downwards, the island mounts directly upwards. When the position of the stone is oblique, the motion of the island is so too:  for in this magnet, the forces always act in lines parallel to its direction.

　　By this oblique motion, the island is conveyed to different parts of the monarch's dominions.  To explain the manner of its progress, let A B represent a line drawn across the dominions of Balnibarbi, let the line C D represent the loadstone, of which let D be the repelling end, and C the attracting end, the island being over C: let the stone be placed in position C D, with its repelling end downwards; then the island will be driven upwards obliquely towards D.  When it is arrived at D, let the stone be turned upon its axle, till its attracting end points towards E, and then the island will be carried obliquely towards E; where, if the stone be again turned upon its axle till it stands in the position E F, with its repelling point downwards, the island will rise obliquely towards F, where, by directing the attracting end towards G, the island may be carried to G, and from G to H, by turning the stone, so as to make its repelling extremity to point directly downward.  And thus, by changing the situation of the stone, as often as there is occasion, the island is made to rise and fall by turns in an oblique direction, and by those alternate risings and fallings (the obliquity being not considerable) is conveyed from one part of the dominions to the other.

　　But it must be observed, that this island cannot move beyond the extent of the dominions below, nor can it rise above the height of four miles.  For which the astronomers (who have written large systems concerning the stone) assign the following reason:  that the magnetic virtue does not extend beyond the distance of four miles, and that the mineral, which acts upon the stone in the bowels of the earth, and in the sea about six leagues distant from the shore, is not diffused through the whole globe, but terminated with the limits of the king's dominions; and it was easy, from the great advantage of such a superior situation, for a prince to bring under his obedience whatever country lay within the attraction of that magnet.

　　When the stone is put parallel to the plane of the horizon, the island stands still; for in that case the extremities of it, being at equal distance from the earth, act with equal force, the one in drawing downwards, the other in pushing upwards, and consequently no motion can ensue.

　　This loadstone is under the care of certain astronomers, who, from time to time, give it such positions as the monarch directs.

CHAPTER III.

　　CHAPTER III.

　　[A phenomenon solved by modern philosophy and astronomy.  The Laputians' great improvements in the latter.  The king's method of suppressing insurrections.]

　　I desired leave of this prince to see the curiosities of the island, which he was graciously pleased to grant, and ordered my tutor to attend me.  I chiefly wanted to know, to what cause, in art or in nature, it owed its several motions, whereof I will now give a philosophical account to the reader.

　　The flying or floating island is exactly circular, its diameter 7837 yards, or about four miles and a half, and consequently contains ten thousand acres.  It is three hundred yards thick.  The bottom, or under surface, which appears to those who view it below, is one even regular plate of adamant, shooting up to the height of about two hundred yards.  Above it lie the several minerals in their usual order, and over all is a coat of rich mould, ten or twelve feet deep.  The declivity of the upper surface, from the circumference to the centre, is the natural cause why all the dews and rains, which fall upon the island, are conveyed in small rivulets toward the middle, where they are emptied into four large basins, each of about half a mile in circuit, and two hundred yards distant from the centre.  From these basins the water is continually exhaled by the sun in the daytime, which effectually prevents their overflowing.  Besides, as it is in the power of the monarch to raise the island above the region of clouds and vapours, he can prevent the falling of dews and rain whenever he pleases. For the highest clouds cannot rise above two miles, as naturalists agree, at least they were never known to do so in that country.

　　At the centre of the island there is a chasm about fifty yards in diameter, whence the astronomers descend into a large dome, which is therefore called FLANDONA GAGNOLE, or the astronomer's cave, situated at the depth of a hundred yards beneath the upper surface of the adamant.  In this cave are twenty lamps continually burning, which, from the reflection of the adamant, cast a strong light into every part.  The place is stored with great variety of sextants, quadrants, telescopes, astrolabes, and other astronomical instruments.  But the greatest curiosity, upon which the fate of the island depends, is a loadstone of a prodigious size, in shape resembling a weaver's shuttle.  It is in length six yards, and in the thickest part at least three yards over.  This magnet is sustained by a very strong axle of adamant passing through its middle, upon which it plays, and is poised so exactly that the weakest hand can turn it.  It is hooped round with a hollow cylinder of adamant, four feet yards in diameter, placed horizontally, and supported by eight adamantine feet, each six yards high.  In the middle of the concave side, there is a groove twelve inches deep, in which the extremities of the axle are lodged, and turned round as there is occasion.

　　The stone cannot be removed from its place by any force, because the hoop and its feet are one continued piece with that body of adamant which constitutes the bottom of the island.

CHAPTER VIII--LOCAL COLOUR



At sunset a small ketch fanned in to anchorage, and a little later the skipper came ashore.  He was a soft-spoken, gentle-voiced young fellow of twenty, but he won Joan's admiration in advance when Sheldon told her that he ran the ketch all alone with a black crew from Malaita.  And Romance lured and beckoned before Joan's eyes when she learned he was Christian Young, a Norfolk Islander, but a direct descendant of John Young, one of the original Bounty mutineers.  The blended Tahitian and English blood showed in his soft eyes and tawny skin; but the English hardness seemed to have disappeared.  Yet the hardness was there, and it was what enabled him to run his ketch single-handed and to wring a livelihood out of the fighting Solomons.

Joan's unexpected presence embarrassed him, until she herself put him at his ease by a frank, comradely manner that offended Sheldon's sense of the fitness of things feminine.  News from the world Young had not, but he was filled with news of the Solomons. Fifteen boys had stolen rifles and run away into the bush from Lunga plantation, which was farther east on the Guadalcanar coast. And from the bush they had sent word that they were coming back to wipe out the three white men in charge, while two of the three white men, in turn, were hunting them through the bush.  There was a strong possibility, Young volunteered, that if they were not caught they might circle around and tap the coast at Berande in order to steal or capture a whale-boat.

"I forgot to tell you that your trader at Ugi has been murdered," he said to Sheldon.  "Five big canoes came down from Port Adams. They landed in the night-time, and caught Oscar asleep.  What they didn't steal they burned.  The Flibberty-Gibbet got the news at Mboli Pass, and ran down to Ugi.  I was at Mboli when the news came."

"I think I'll have to abandon Ugi," Sheldon remarked.

"It's the second trader you've lost there in a year," Young concurred.  "To make it safe there ought to be two white men at least.  Those Malaita canoes are always raiding down that way, and you know what that Port Adams lot is.  I've got a dog for you. Tommy Jones sent it up from Neal Island.  He said he'd promised it to you.  It's a first-class nigger-chaser.  Hadn't been on board two minutes when he had my whole boat's-crew in the rigging.  Tommy calls him Satan."

"I've wondered several times why you had no dogs here," Joan said.

"Then began the rule of the strong hand.  It was either that or quit, and we had sunk about all our money into the venture, and we could not quit.  And besides, our pride was involved.  We had started out to do something, and we were so made that we just had to go on with it.  It has been a hard fight, for we were, and are to this day, considered the worst plantation in the Solomons from the standpoint of labour.  Do you know, we have been unable to get white men in.  We've offered the managership to half a dozen.  I won't say they were afraid, for they were not.  But they did not consider it healthy--at least that is the way it was put by the last one who declined our offer.  So Hughie and I did the managing ourselves."

"And when he died you were prepared to go on all alone!" Joan cried, with shining eyes.

"I thought I'd muddle through.  And now, Miss Lackland, please be charitable when I seem harsh, and remember that the situation is unparalleled down here.  We've got a bad crowd, and we're making them work.  You've been over the plantation and you ought to know. And I assure you that there are no better three-and-four-years-old trees on any other plantation in the Solomons.  We have worked steadily to change matters for the better.  We've been slowly getting in new labour.  That is why we bought the Jessie.  We wanted to select our own labour.  In another year the time will be up for most of the original gang.  You see, they were recruited during the first year of Berande, and their contracts expire on different months.  Naturally, they have contaminated the new boys to a certain extent; but that can soon be remedied, and then Berande will be a respectable plantation."

Joan nodded but remained silent.  She was too occupied in glimpsing the vision of the one lone white man as she had first seen him, helpless from fever, a collapsed wraith in a steamer-chair, who, up to the last heart-beat, by some strange alchemy of race, was pledged to mastery.

"It is a pity," she said.  "But the white man has to rule, I suppose."

"I don't like it," Sheldon assured her.  "To save my life I can't imagine how I ever came here.  But here I am, and I can't run away."

"Blind destiny of race," she said, faintly smiling.  "We whites have been land robbers and sea robbers from remotest time.  It is in our blood, I guess, and we can't get away from it."

"I never thought about it so abstractly," he confessed.  "I've been too busy puzzling over why I came here."

"I grant that precaution is necessary in dealing with them," Joan agreed; "but I believe that more satisfactory results can be obtained by treating them with discreet kindness and gentleness."

"And there I agree with YOU, but you must understand one thing. Berande, bar none, is by far the worst plantation in the Solomons so far as the labour is concerned.  And how it came to be so proves your point.  The previous owners of Berande were not discreetly kind.  They were a pair of unadulterated brutes.  One was a down- east Yankee, as I believe they are called, and the other was a guzzling German.  They were slave-drivers.  To begin with, they bought their labour from Johnny Be-blowed, the most notorious recruiter in the Solomons.  He is working out a ten years' sentence in Fiji now, for the wanton killing of a black boy.  During his last days here he had made himself so obnoxious that the natives on Malaita would have nothing to do with him.  The only way he could get recruits was by hurrying to the spot whenever a murder or series of murders occurred.  The murderers were usually only too willing to sign on and get away to escape vengeance.  Down here they call such escapes, 'pier-head jumps.'  There is suddenly a roar from the beach, and a nigger runs down to the water pursued by clouds of spears and arrows.  Of course, Johnny Be-blowed's whale- boat is lying ready to pick him up.  In his last days Johnny got nothing but pier-head jumps.

"And the first owners of Berande bought his recruits--a hard-bitten gang of murderers.  They were all five-year boys.  You see, the recruiter has the advantage over a boy when he makes a pier-head jump.  He could sign him on for ten years did the law permit. Well, that's the gang of murderers we've got on our hands now.  Of course some are dead, some have been killed, and there are others serving sentences at Tulagi.  Very little clearing did those first owners do, and less planting.  It was war all the time.  They had one manager killed.  One of the partners had his shoulder slashed nearly off by a cane-knife.  The other was speared on two different occasions.  Both were bullies, wherefore there was a streak of cowardice in them, and in the end they had to give up.  They were chased away--literally chased away--by their own niggers.  And along came poor Hughie and me, two new chums, to take hold of that hard-bitten gang.  We did not know the situation, and we had bought Berande, and there was nothing to do but hang on and muddle through somehow.

"At first we made the mistake of indiscreet kindness.  We tried to rule by persuasion and fair treatment.  The niggers concluded that we were afraid.  I blush to think of what fools we were in those first days.  We were imposed on, and threatened and insulted; and we put up with it, hoping our square-dealing would soon mend things.  Instead of which everything went from bad to worse.  Then came the day when Hughie reprimanded one of the boys and was nearly killed by the gang.  The only thing that saved him was the number on top of him, which enabled me to reach the spot in time.

Sheldon felt unaccountably pleased and happy at the changed aspect of her mood.

"You see, you don't understand the situation," he began.  "In the first place, the blacks have to be ruled sternly.  Kindness is all very well, but you can't rule them by kindness only.  I accept all that you say about the Hawaiians and the Tahitians.  You say that they can be handled that way, and I believe you.  I have had no experience with them.  But you have had no experience with the blacks, and I ask you to believe me.  They are different from your natives.  You are used to Polynesians.  These boys are Melanesians. They're blacks.  They're niggers--look at their kinky hair.  And they're a whole lot lower than the African niggers.  Really, you know, there is a vast difference."

"They possess no gratitude, no sympathy, no kindliness.  If you are kind to them, they think you are a fool.  If you are gentle with them they think you are afraid.  And when they think you are afraid, watch out, for they will get you.  Just to show you, let me state the one invariable process in a black man's brain when, on his native heath, he encounters a stranger.  His first thought is one of fear.  Will the stranger kill him?  His next thought, seeing that he is not killed, is:  Can he kill the stranger?  There was Packard, a Colonial trader, some twelve miles down the coast.  He boasted that he ruled by kindness and never struck a blow.  The result was that he did not rule at all.  He used to come down in his whale-boat to visit Hughie and me.  When his boat's crew decided to go home, he had to cut his visit short to accompany them.  I remember one Sunday afternoon when Packard had accepted our invitation to stop to dinner.  The soup was just served, when Hughie saw a nigger peering in through the door.  He went out to him, for it was a violation of Berande custom.  Any nigger has to send in word by the house-boys, and to keep outside the compound. This man, who was one of Packard's boat's-crew, was on the veranda. And he knew better, too.  'What name?' said Hughie.  'You tell 'm white man close up we fella boat's-crew go along.  He no come now, we fella boy no wait.  We go.'  And just then Hughie fetched him a clout that knocked him clean down the stairs and off the veranda."

"But it was needlessly cruel," Joan objected.  "You wouldn't treat a white man that way."

"And that's just the point.  He wasn't a white man.  He was a low black nigger, and he was deliberately insulting, not alone his own white master, but every white master in the Solomons.  He insulted me.  He insulted Hughie.  He insulted Berande."

"Of course, according to your lights, to your formula of the rule of the strong--"

"Yes," Sheldon interrupted, "but it was according to the formula of the rule of the weak that Packard ruled.  And what was the result? I am still alive.  Packard is dead.  He was unswervingly kind and gentle to his boys, and his boys waited till one day he was down with fever.  His head is over on Malaita now.  They carried away two whale-boats as well, filled with the loot of the store.  Then there was Captain Mackenzie of the ketch Minota.  He believed in kindness.  He also contended that better confidence was established by carrying no weapons.  On his second trip to Malaita, recruiting, he ran into Bina, which is near Langa Langa.  The rifles with which the boat's-crew should have been armed, were locked up in his cabin.  When the whale-boat went ashore after recruits, he paraded around the deck without even a revolver on him.  He was tomahawked. His head remains in Malaita.  It was suicide.  So was Packard's finish suicide."

A source of continual trouble between them was the disagreement over methods of handling the black boys.  She ruled by stern kindness, rarely rewarding, never punishing, and he had to confess that her own sailors worshipped her, while the house-boys were her slaves, and did three times as much work for her as he had ever got out of them.  She quickly saw the unrest of the contract labourers, and was not blind to the danger, always imminent, that both she and Sheldon ran.  Neither of them ever ventured out without a revolver, and the sailors who stood the night watches by Joan's grass house were armed with rifles.  But Joan insisted that this reign of terror had been caused by the reign of fear practised by the white men.  She had been brought up with the gentle Hawaiians, who never were ill-treated nor roughly handled, and she generalized that the Solomon Islanders, under kind treatment, would grow gentle.

One evening a terrific uproar arose in the barracks, and Sheldon, aided by Joan's sailors, succeeded in rescuing two women whom the blacks were beating to death.  To save them from the vengeance of the blacks, they were guarded in the cook-house for the night. They were the two women who did the cooking for the labourers, and their offence had consisted of one of them taking a bath in the big cauldron in which the potatoes were boiled.  The blacks were not outraged from the standpoint of cleanliness; they often took baths in the cauldrons themselves.  The trouble lay in that the bather had been a low, degraded, wretched female; for to the Solomon Islander all females are low, degraded, and wretched.

Next morning, Joan and Sheldon, at breakfast, were aroused by a swelling murmur of angry voices.  The first rule of Berande had been broken.  The compound had been entered without permission or command, and all the two hundred labourers, with the exception of the boss-boys, were guilty of the offence.  They crowded up, threatening and shouting, close under the front veranda.  Sheldon leaned over the veranda railing, looking down upon them, while Joan stood slightly back.  When the uproar was stilled, two brothers stood forth.  They were large men, splendidly muscled, and with faces unusually ferocious, even for Solomon Islanders.  One was Carin-Jama, otherwise The Silent; and the other was Bellin-Jama, The Boaster.  Both had served on the Queensland plantations in the old days, and they were known as evil characters wherever white men met and gammed.

"We fella boy we want 'm them dam two black fella Mary," said Bellin-Jama.

"What you do along black fella Mary?" Sheldon asked.

"Kill 'm," said Bellin-Jama.

"What name you fella boy talk along me?" Sheldon demanded, with a show of rising anger.  "Big bell he ring.  You no belong along here.  You belong along field.  Bime by, big fella bell he ring, you stop along kai-kai, you come talk along me about two fella Mary.  Now all you boy get along out of here."

　　"The Emperor? He is generosity, mercy, justice, order, genius-that's what the Emperor is! It is I, Ramballe, who tell you so.... Iassure you I was his enemy eight years ago. My father was anemigrant count.... But that man has vanquished me. He has taken holdof me. I could not resist the sight of the grandeur and glory withwhich he has covered France. When I understood what he wanted- whenI saw that he was preparing a bed of laurels for us, you know, Isaid to myself: 'That is a monarch,' and I devoted myself to him! Sothere! Oh yes, mon cher, he is the greatest man of the ages past orfuture."

　　"Is he in Moscow?" Pierre stammered with a guilty look.

　　The Frenchman looked at his guilty face and smiled.

　　"No, he will make his entry tomorrow," he replied, and continued histalk.

　　Their conversation was interrupted by the cries of several voices atthe gate and by Morel, who came to say that some Wurttemberg hussarshad come and wanted to put up their horses in the yard where thecaptain's horses were. This difficulty had arisen chiefly becausethe hussars did not understand what was said to them in French.

　　The captain had their senior sergeant called in, and in a sternvoice asked him to what regiment he belonged, who was his commandingofficer, and by what right he allowed himself to claim quarters thatwere already occupied. The German who knew little French, answered thetwo first questions by giving the names of his regiment and of hiscommanding officer, but in reply to the third question which he didnot understand said, introducing broken French into his own German,that he was the quartermaster of the regiment and his commander hadordered him to occupy all the houses one after another. Pierre, whoknew German, translated what the German said to the captain and gavethe captain's reply to the Wurttemberg hussar in German. When he hadunderstood what was said to him, the German submitted and took his menelsewhere. The captain went out into the porch and gave some orders ina loud voice.

　　When he returned to the room Pierre was sitting in the same place asbefore, with his head in his hands. His face expressed suffering. Hereally was suffering at that moment. When the captain went out andhe was left alone, suddenly he came to himself and realized theposition he was in. It was not that Moscow had been taken or thatthe happy conquerors were masters in it and were patronizing him.Painful as that was it was not that which tormented Pierre at themoment. He was tormented by the consciousness of his own weakness. Thefew glasses of wine he had drunk and the conversation with thisgood-natured man had destroyed the mood of concentrated gloom in whichhe had spent the last few days and which was essential for theexecution of his design. The pistol, dagger, and peasant coat wereready. Napoleon was to enter the town next day. Pierre stillconsidered that it would be a useful and worthy action to slay theevildoer, but now he felt that he would not do it. He did not knowwhy, but he felt a foreboding that he would not carry out hisintention. He struggled against the confession of his weakness butdimly felt that he could not overcome it and that his former gloomyframe of mind, concerning vengeance, killing, and self-sacrifice,had been dispersed like dust by contact with the first man he met.