A/N: I do not own any of these characters except Louis. The rest belong
to Alexandre Dumas, who was much more of a genius than I'll ever be, so
please don't sue me.
La Mort du Compte
As I write this I lie on my likely deathbed. I look back on a long life, not necessarily a full one. Some things I did I regret; for others there's nothing to regret. In looking back on my life I think what an odd life it's been. First a poor sailor, first mate on a ship, named captain at just nineteen years of age, with a beautiful young fiancée whom I loved and who loved me and a poor old father, then arrested on the very day I was to be married, followed by fourteen years in a prison dungeon, where I had a chance meeting with the man who would become my second father and helped me see why I had become a "dangerous Bonapartist" even though I was innocent of everything except loyalty to the orders of a dying ship captain, then a miraculous chance to escape and start my life over, then my transition to one of the richest men in the world and my adoption of the title "Count." After I became a Count, I was unrecognizable as my former self and slowly took my revenge on everyone who sent me to prison and destroyed my happiness. Since then I've found happiness again through Haydée, my Haydée, and my young son Louis, named after the grandfather he never got to know. I know that I likely not get forgiveness from this, but I need to write it to be able to forgive myself. You may not even like me after I'm done with this. Sure, maybe there were some things I shouldn't have done; but there were some things that my enemies shouldn't have done either. Stealing the youth of a man because you're jealous of things he has is not commendable in any society with which I am familiar--and I'm familiar with a lot of societies. They stole my youth -- I stole their adulthood. I am not responsible for any of their deaths. I'm only responsible for showing the world who they really are. They did the rest of it themselves. And so I say them: you may have had the glory, and gotten what you wanted, but what good did it do you? Danglars, you got the position you wanted as captain of the Pharaon, but then you left it behind and left the country. You didn't take what you had "earned." And you, Fernand, you stole what was mine, and what did it get you? Years later your sins were made public and your true identity revealed. Then your wife leaves the home you had made together to return to one that meant so much to her as a child and your son leaves behind your wealth and scorns your name, not that it was yours anyway. And Villefort, Monsieur Villefort, you were the one who could have put an end to this, but you didn't. You thought only of yourself and your reputation, and you changed the life of an innocent young man forever. And then that innocent young man, who was no longer so young and no longer so innocent, came and changed your life forever. He took away your happiness just as you had taken away his. And as for those two who stayed faithful to my memory, I hope I have done what I could to thank you for it. Father, your house has been returned to my hands, and the one who lives there now will never have to worry if I will take it away from her. She has suffered enough from what has happened and is returned to a house that reminds her of happier times, with a small amount of money from happier times that was put there by a man who loved her whom she loved in return. And to her, Mercédès, I say: I won't ask for your forgiveness; in all likelihood, you have already given it to me, and prayed that God give it to me as well. It is a shame you had to get involved in this; but there was not a way to strike at Fernand without causing you some grief. At least I know that you do not hate me for what I did and you understand why I did it. What would it have been like had times been happier? Ah, but there is no point in thinking of what might have been; let us only remember what was. I take consolation in the fact that you have made it through this and still have your son to help you, as I now have my son to help his mother. For your son, Albert, these words: you wear the uniform of a soldier now. Do not do with it as your father did. Do not kill those who do not deserve it. that is not the reason for wearing the uniform. Take care of your mother. You're all she has now. To my son, Louis, who must now care for his mother, I say: do not do as your father did, but do instead as your grandfather did. Do not despair and let yourself turn to hate, but hold on to hope, hope that those you love will return to you, hope that there is good in the world. Do not take for granted those less lucky than you; remember, everyone's family was there once, and some people end up there again. Do not use your position or money to harm another; there is much more satisfaction in helping those who need it. Unfortunately I didn't realize this until I had caused more harm than I intended to. I say again, do not let your life turn to hate; instead think only of hope, hope for a better life for all, hope that all goodness is not lost, hope that someday I may be forgiven for what I have done. What I have done does not matter anymore; it is in the past and between me and those I did it to. What matters is that you care for your mother. She is still young; she will depend on you now. To your mother I say, do not despair, dear Haydée, for everyone's life comes to an end. It is time for my life to come to an end. Louis will take care of you now. Help him to be like you, to see the good in people. One day he will be like his grandfather. The Dantès family was once a good family. Make it an honor to be a Dantès again. I know that with the future of the family in the hands of the two of you, it is possible. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it.
Edmond Dantès The Count of Monte Cristo
La Mort du Compte
As I write this I lie on my likely deathbed. I look back on a long life, not necessarily a full one. Some things I did I regret; for others there's nothing to regret. In looking back on my life I think what an odd life it's been. First a poor sailor, first mate on a ship, named captain at just nineteen years of age, with a beautiful young fiancée whom I loved and who loved me and a poor old father, then arrested on the very day I was to be married, followed by fourteen years in a prison dungeon, where I had a chance meeting with the man who would become my second father and helped me see why I had become a "dangerous Bonapartist" even though I was innocent of everything except loyalty to the orders of a dying ship captain, then a miraculous chance to escape and start my life over, then my transition to one of the richest men in the world and my adoption of the title "Count." After I became a Count, I was unrecognizable as my former self and slowly took my revenge on everyone who sent me to prison and destroyed my happiness. Since then I've found happiness again through Haydée, my Haydée, and my young son Louis, named after the grandfather he never got to know. I know that I likely not get forgiveness from this, but I need to write it to be able to forgive myself. You may not even like me after I'm done with this. Sure, maybe there were some things I shouldn't have done; but there were some things that my enemies shouldn't have done either. Stealing the youth of a man because you're jealous of things he has is not commendable in any society with which I am familiar--and I'm familiar with a lot of societies. They stole my youth -- I stole their adulthood. I am not responsible for any of their deaths. I'm only responsible for showing the world who they really are. They did the rest of it themselves. And so I say them: you may have had the glory, and gotten what you wanted, but what good did it do you? Danglars, you got the position you wanted as captain of the Pharaon, but then you left it behind and left the country. You didn't take what you had "earned." And you, Fernand, you stole what was mine, and what did it get you? Years later your sins were made public and your true identity revealed. Then your wife leaves the home you had made together to return to one that meant so much to her as a child and your son leaves behind your wealth and scorns your name, not that it was yours anyway. And Villefort, Monsieur Villefort, you were the one who could have put an end to this, but you didn't. You thought only of yourself and your reputation, and you changed the life of an innocent young man forever. And then that innocent young man, who was no longer so young and no longer so innocent, came and changed your life forever. He took away your happiness just as you had taken away his. And as for those two who stayed faithful to my memory, I hope I have done what I could to thank you for it. Father, your house has been returned to my hands, and the one who lives there now will never have to worry if I will take it away from her. She has suffered enough from what has happened and is returned to a house that reminds her of happier times, with a small amount of money from happier times that was put there by a man who loved her whom she loved in return. And to her, Mercédès, I say: I won't ask for your forgiveness; in all likelihood, you have already given it to me, and prayed that God give it to me as well. It is a shame you had to get involved in this; but there was not a way to strike at Fernand without causing you some grief. At least I know that you do not hate me for what I did and you understand why I did it. What would it have been like had times been happier? Ah, but there is no point in thinking of what might have been; let us only remember what was. I take consolation in the fact that you have made it through this and still have your son to help you, as I now have my son to help his mother. For your son, Albert, these words: you wear the uniform of a soldier now. Do not do with it as your father did. Do not kill those who do not deserve it. that is not the reason for wearing the uniform. Take care of your mother. You're all she has now. To my son, Louis, who must now care for his mother, I say: do not do as your father did, but do instead as your grandfather did. Do not despair and let yourself turn to hate, but hold on to hope, hope that those you love will return to you, hope that there is good in the world. Do not take for granted those less lucky than you; remember, everyone's family was there once, and some people end up there again. Do not use your position or money to harm another; there is much more satisfaction in helping those who need it. Unfortunately I didn't realize this until I had caused more harm than I intended to. I say again, do not let your life turn to hate; instead think only of hope, hope for a better life for all, hope that all goodness is not lost, hope that someday I may be forgiven for what I have done. What I have done does not matter anymore; it is in the past and between me and those I did it to. What matters is that you care for your mother. She is still young; she will depend on you now. To your mother I say, do not despair, dear Haydée, for everyone's life comes to an end. It is time for my life to come to an end. Louis will take care of you now. Help him to be like you, to see the good in people. One day he will be like his grandfather. The Dantès family was once a good family. Make it an honor to be a Dantès again. I know that with the future of the family in the hands of the two of you, it is possible. Anything is possible if you put your mind to it.
Edmond Dantès The Count of Monte Cristo