Cualli Tonalli!!!!!!!!
Mi first history in english.
Chapter 4
The stare
Morning arrived with amazing speed. He remained sitting in that room, completely alone while the cup of tea grew cold in his hands. The strange stare of his previous companion remained fixed in his memory with perfect clarity, and that rose inside of him a strange feeling of warm; he felt good, he felt stronger.
The sun entered shyly through the windows and illuminated his face. It made him smile involuntarily; at his back, he heard steps getting closer and, turning around, received Ali with a big smile.
"It is time, my friend. Time to go to the town" his tender voice surprised the slave who, nodding, smiled.
Marseille was full of life, and the longing of the previous day returned, taking refuge in Dantes' chest. The steps carrying him towards that humble house were firm and sure, he wanted… no, he whished to arrive there.
The nobles watched him pass and whispered among them different kinds of comments, which he didn't care to listen. He walked through Noailles street, and entered inside the building at the left of Meillan; it was then when he found himself standing in front of that window, the home of his friend, his beloved Mercedes.
He felt the beating of his heart in his ears, and his hands trembled when he heard that voice, a voice he would recognize in any place. He was alone; he'd asked Ali to wait outside and, even if he was afraid of the woman's reaction, he was happy, strangely happy.
The door opened with torturous calm, and his body betrayed his mind when, as a child in love, hid behind a bush. He cursed himself mentally and repeated to himself he was no child, and that he had to face her as an adult. However, he betrayed himself again when he saw her.
Mon Dieu! How long had it been? How was it possible that she hadn't changed a bit? The only word that came to his mind was: Beautiful, eternally beautiful.
-----------------------------
She went out as every morning, with slow steps and her heart in her hands. The long white dress she was wearing was a farewell, a silent goodbye to what once she called life, for that same afternoon her life would end. With a soft smile and sweet words, she said hi to the manager and, opening the door to the garden, started her trip.
The sunlight, poor in that clouded morning, caressed the flowers in a basket close by, painting in her brown skin a weak rainbow that made her smile bitterly. She walked with unconscious grace towards the tree, and took in her delicate hands a blue flower; then, after cutting it, she placed it over her chest with an audible sigh. She closed her eyes while inhaling the sweet fragrance, without noticing that someone watched her with infinite tenderness, not too far away.
She opened her eyes and, after watching her home for the last time, walked towards salvation, salvation which would condemn her soul eternally.
--------------------------------------------
He saw her exiting the garden, the blue flower still tightly pressed against her chest. His heart beat furiously; to be able to see Mercedes' face so closely after a year of absence had disturbed him, and he'd thanked (God knew how much!) that she hadn't found him in that moment. It took him some seconds to realize she was gone, and another few to dare following her.
He was surprised to see the woman hadn't paid attention to the carriage parked outside, nor had she recognized that black man who scared with his presence to the people passing by. With a gesture of his hand, he ordered Ali to wait, and followed Mercedes.
It was an odd situation; he could see her walk a few steps ahead and her fragrance arrived to him with the wind. But the woman seemed absorbed, detached from the world and the people surrounding her.
Monte Cristo stopped while following her with his eyes. It was correct what he was about to do? What if she didn't need his attentions? What if he only damaged her with his arrival? Those questions plagued his mind for some seconds, and disappeared the moment he heard the whispers of a group of women not too far away from him.
"Is that woman again" said one of them. "… it makes me shudder only to see her"
"Me too…" added another. "… she looks like a tortured ghost, se always goes out alone and doesn't speak to anybody"
"It seems to me that poor woman has nothing left in this life" said the third one with a rude, arrogant tone.
Monte Cristo frowned when he noticed the women's stares; Didn't they had better things to do than intruding in others' lives? He'd always felt amazed at how people never got bored of gossip. But, unfortunately, they seemed to have more information about Mercedes than him, and he needed to know the details.
He sighed and, placing in his face the most charming smile he could make, he approached the women that, immersed in her whispers, hadn't even seen him.
"Good morning to you, fair ladies!" he said, making a reverence. The group of women turned, and blushed when they looked at him intently; the good man could almost read their thoughts: What a handsome and wealthy man! A perfect catch for their daughters.
"Good morning, Monsieur!" said the older, the mother, while looking at Monte Cristo upside down. "What a beautiful morning we have today, don't you think?"
Edmund shuddered when he heard the woman's selfish tone; no doubt she hoped to learn a new topic to tell other people later.
"You're absolutely right, madame, I can't imagine a better morning" answered Dantes with a smile, causing the younger women to sigh.
"And you, gentleman, what brought you to a little town like this one?" the one who seemed to be the oldest daughter asked with unnecessary interest. "Surely, someone with such good air as you has something more important to do than walk and talk with the ladies"
The group laughed soundly, causing Dantes to shudder again.
"No, not at all, Cherie" he answered, hiding behind the indifference. "Just senseless matters, with no importance; but its not because of it that I've approached such an… interesting group of ladies"
The women exchanged significant looks among them, and then laughed again. The youngest of the group (she seemed more than 20 years old) approached Monte Cristo.
"Really? And to what do we owe your sudden attention, monsieur?" asked the young woman, with evident Nordic features, with an air of complicity while blinking her big blue eyes quickly.
"I just whished to know if you, my dear, could inform me about the catalan that passed by"
Monte Cristo's tone was innocent, but caused in that group a sense of disappointment; however, the excitement about a new topic of conversation was greater, and they answered without doubts.
"That woman, good man, is nothing but a person who has lost everything in life" answered the oldest daughter with contempt.
The mother walked slowly towards Edmund and, intertwining her arm with his right one, whispered into his ear with the alarming tone of gossip. She covered her mouth with her fan, to add a touch of complicity to their union.
"Nobody knows who she is really… I know from a good source that she was born here, and that for some strange event she lost the man she was supposed to marry when she was young…" the old woman pressed herself closer against Monte Cristo's shoulder and he didn't reject the gesture, more for courtesy than for wish.
"Nobody knows what happened with that man, but they say she married another man because she was pregnant with the first one's child…" the surprise was great, but Dantes knew it wasn't true, it couldn't be. He listened attentively to what the woman had to say, looking for an answer. "…they both left and nothing more was known of the couple until a year ago, when she returned to Marseille accompanied by another man, younger than she. It is said they were lovers, but the man left leaving her alone here. It seems he boarded a ship to the India or the Orient"
Ah, the irony of gossip! Can one be sure of the truth of it? No, one can't. The impression disappeared as soon as it arrived.
"Every afternoon…" continued the youngest of them. "… she goes out of that poor room in which she lives, and walks: first to the church, and then she goes to the viewpoint, where she cries until the sun sets; at last, she returns to her room. Alone and in silence, like a tortured soul"
The three women looked one at another amused; waiting for the answer of the man they'd given their attention to, but the handsome man of dark eyes remained immutable.
"I see…" he said, after some seconds. "… a tortured soul"
"Don't pay attention to that kind of people" said the mother with calming tone, while patting softly Dantes' arm. "I'm sure that people as important as you are interested in creating links with more sophisticated persons"
The three women laughed again, but the reaction of that extravagant man took them by surprise.
"Thank you very much" he said with a cold, calculating voice before releasing himself from the old woman's grip, turning around and leaving. The women looked at each other, upset, and then left.
Monte Cristo walked to the church, while deciphering the words of those women:
The young man they mentioned, that lover had to be no other than Albert Morcef. It was obvious considering the last part of the story: that child left his mother to help in Orient. About she being pregnant while he was imprisoned, it was nothing but a stupidity; he'd been young and deeply in love, but he was no fool and his father had raised him properly. He would never do something to damage Mercedes, or compromise her in any way.
About everything else, it was obvious they didn't know about the countess life she'd experienced in Paris, and about the whereabouts of her beloved (his whereabouts) everyone had thought that Edmund Dantes had died in the Chateau D'If; that he'd rotten in memory and that his body had fed the fishes. It was perfectly normal that no one knew the exact story.
He surprised to find himself standing in front of the church where he thought many times he'll make the catalan his wife. According to those women, Mercedes would be there. Sighing, he crossed himself and entered.
Continue….
Tlazohcamati huel miac!!!!
