The Count of Monte Cristo

A Lesson on Service and Loyalty

Addressing Baptistin, the count remarks that he has been in service for one year—the time he generally allows himself to judge of those about him—and that the valet suits him very well. It remains to be seen whether he also suits the count. The count outlines Baptistin’s situation: 1,500 francs per annum, more than many a brave subaltern risks his life for; a manner of living superior to that of clerks who work ten times harder; servants of his own to attend him; and a profit upon each toilet article that in a year equals his wages. While not condemning this, the count declares that the profits must end there, for it would be long before the valet found so lucrative a post again. He neither ill-uses nor ill-treats his servants, readily forgives an error, but never wilful negligence or forgetfulness. His commands are short, clear, and precise, and he would rather repeat them twice or three times than have them misunderstood. He is rich enough to know whatever he wishes to know, and if he learns that the valet has presumed to speak of him favorably or unfavorably, to comment on his actions, or to watch his conduct, that instant the valet will quit his service. He cautions him once, never a second time. Baptistin bows, and as he is leaving, the count adds that he lays aside a yearly sum for each servant; those dismissed lose all claim to it, while their portion goes to a fund divided at his death among those who remain. Baptistin’s fund has already begun to accumulate. In the presence of Ali, who understands not a word, this address produces an effect only to be conceived by those familiar with French domestics. Baptistin pledges to merit the count’s approbation and to take Ali as his model, but the count replies in frigid tones that Ali has many faults mixed with excellent qualities and cannot serve as a model, being not a paid servant but a mere slave whom the count would, should he fail in his duty, not discharge but kill. Ali, hearing this repeated to him in Arabic, smiles, kneels on one knee, and respectfully kisses the count’s hand—a corroboration that strikes the finishing blow of wonder and stupefaction to Baptistin. The valet is dismissed, and Ali is taken to the study for a long and earnest conversation.

Departure for Danglars

When the clock strikes five, the count strikes thrice upon his gong—one stroke summons Ali, two summon Baptistin, three summon Bertuccio. The steward enters, and the count asks if his horses are ready. Bertuccio confirms they are at the door harnessed to the carriage as desired, and asks if he should accompany him. The count declines: the coachman, Ali, and Baptistin will go. Descending to the door, Monte Cristo beholds his carriage drawn by the very pair of horses he had so much admired in the morning as Danglars’s property. He remarks that they are extremely handsome and praises Bertuccio’s purchase, though reproving him mildly for not having obtained them sooner. Bertuccio replies that there was considerable difficulty in obtaining them and that they have cost an enormous price. The count inquires whether the sum paid makes the animals less beautiful and, receiving an assurance that his satisfaction is all the steward could wish, asks to be driven to the residence of Baron Danglars on the Rue de la Chaussée d’Antin.

Commissioning a Seaside Estate

As they stand upon the terrace, from which a flight of stone steps leads to the carriage-drive, the count calls Bertuccio back and commissions him to find an estate by the seaside in Normandy—between Le Havre and Boulogne, for instance. The place must have a small harbor, creek, or bay into which his corvette can enter and remain at anchor, since she draws only fifteen feet. She is to be kept in constant readiness to sail the moment the count gives the signal. The steward should make inquiries, visit any eligible spot, and if it possesses the desired advantages, purchase it at once in his own name. The corvette, the count thinks, must now be on her way to Fécamp.