He then told her what had happened after she gave him the white rose, and how Count Mont d’Oro had declared that she was to be the future Countess Mont d’Oro, being already betrothed to him—but he did not refer to the duel.
“That betrothal,” cried Vivienne, “was the foolish fancy of an old man who loved my father and who thought his son should love the daughter of the man whom he loved. On the other hand, my ambitious brother, Pascal, desires to join the two great landed estates and, at the same time, have his sister become a countess. But none of the four ever consulted my wish or will in the matter and, so far as I am concerned, I do not regard anything that has been said or done as at all binding upon me.”
A strange thrill of delight had gone through Victor’s nerves when he had heard this declaration, and he experienced it again as he threaded his way along the forest path. What he was doing was for Vivienne’s sake—and she was free! If he could win her, there was no reason why she should not be his.
Pascal Batistelli was not at home when Victor arrived, and he was glad that he was not obliged to explain matters to Vivienne’s brother. He found Snodine, the housekeeper, who speedily collected the articles of clothing that were needed, and he was soon on his way back to the cave in the cliff.
“I should not envy Count Mont d’Oro his feelings if he ever learns what has taken place on this eventful night,” was Victor’s mental reflection as he retraced his steps.
The Count was not to be envied. The doctor had told him that he would be confined to the house for at least three weeks, and it would be three more before he would be able to walk with his accustomed ease. One day, when Pascal Batistelli was speaking about his English guests, the Count asked, carelessly, as if their presence were of no particular interest to him:
“Who are they, Batistelli?”
“Admiral Enright, of the British navy, his daughter Helen, who is a very finely educated woman—and there her attractions end—and a young lieutenant named Victor Duquesne, who may or may not be in love with the highly educated daughter.”
The Count said nothing, but there was an expression upon his face which Pascal wrongly attributed to a sudden twinge of pain. It was a spasm of jealousy. So, his rival was a guest of the Batistellis and able to see Vivienne every day, while he was flat upon his back and could not interfere. He could do nothing himself—but something must be done. He sent for his friend Villefort, and gave him a large roll of gold coin and told him what to do.
In Villefort he had a willing slave, for the latter derived his living principally from Count Napier’s bounty, but got nothing for which he had not rendered some service.