Disclaimer: same as previous.
I wish to thank the two for the reviews, and Anneliese, here is the second chapter you suggested me to write.
"He has decided not to kill me." Albert's mind was filled with a single thought and a single man. The significant face written with intelligence, the dark eyes shining with hatred and dark secrets, the voice resonating with confidence and pride. His head whirled as if he was drunk, and he shuddered without knowing that he did.
"My mother, in love with the count." He muttered, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. "They were lovers. She never loved my father - one is only truly in love once. And the count, the count still loves my mother. He has spared my life, he who controls our fate, our sorrow, our life." Realization flowed through his mind clearly as tears gathered in his eyes, in silence.
"And what does she expects me to do?" He shook his head. "God, why have you stricken my mother with such misfortunes? And who am I to choose between the traitor, whose blood I carry in my veins and conscience? I am only mortal. I am ordinary. I either betray my blood or my soul. Please, why was I born to be the son of Comte de Morcerf? Or the son of Fernand... Fernand, perhaps I can curse that name without being cast into the eternal fire. Fernand, whose treacherous heart built to what was to become my father, the father I admired, loved, and venerated! Fernand, whose sin extends to the life of an old man and the happiness of a youth! Fernand, whose wife and son would later come to despise him! Fernand, the tragedy formed with his very own hands! Why did you not strangle him, God, before he went too far? Before he ever mailed the letter, before he even conceived the idea of mailing the letter, before he was jealous! He has ruined a family he built, ruined the happiness of his beloved, and ruined the filial piety of his son! And I am that son! I should kill myself, while it is still dark, while this secret is still in the dark, beyond reach of those who already know how the man whom I called father betrayed his master. While I still have truth and honor carved in my heat... carved in heart's blood!" With torrents of thoughts, Albert buried his face in his hands and wept.
"But, if I kill myself, what would become of my poor mother? She has learned a terrible secret. She is full of guilt and shame, even more than what I have, for she must think that it is her fault. What must she think when she looks at me? Seeing that I carry the image of Fernand instead of Edmond Dantes? I could have been the sailor's son, simple, poor, but perhaps much happier than we both are right now. We may not be at the hopeless, like the old man starved to death. But our sorrow is great indeed, indeed...
I wonder how did the count ever overcome his melancholy. He is melancholy, isn't he? Even the proudest avenger is bitter, for he must have been greatly wronged. He must have been thinking of killing me, the son of the man who married his fiancé... The son who was to be his, and my mother's... He loved my mother, my beautiful, intelligent, and noble mother! How painful it must have been for her to tell me the truth, what courage! Yet I'd rather if she had not, for now I must decide, decide on this impossible decision, impossible at least for the son of Fernand and Mercedes."
For a moment, he sank into deep silence, his mind like an ocean with dangerous currents. He could not sleep, yet he wished for a sleep that would make him forget. Hashish? He smiled lightly, and raising his head, saw his furrowed brow inside a small mirror. The former Albert did not frown even at the face of death. The last time he saw that face, he was vibrant with life, although disturbed.
It was the evening when he felt vengeful, and it was night when he now felt helpless.
"Think of the count, Albert," a tiny voice said in his head, "Think of what he decided, imagine how he must have felt, and decide accordingly. That's what your mother wishes you to do. Think of the count, Albert."
"Yes, the count." Albert thought, letting his mind run free, "he stayed in prison for fourteen years because of what Fernand did. He came out, no longer a youth, no longer betrothed, and no longer with a father. And all this my father did to him." He shuddered at the word "father". "No, that man cannot be my father. He has no honor. This house, this title, this old home of mine are all no longer mine. And all because of what he did to Edmond Dantes! That innocent sailor who came back as a creature of darkness and justice, striking down my father with his mighty hand! He could crush me tomorrow, like an ant, under his feet, yet he has decided to die himself. He who has everything, happiness and wealth at last; he who was deprived; he who was undeserving of suffering... And now my turn, I who am also innocent in the matter of the marriage which borne me, I who owe this man my life because he has spared me, out of mercy, goodness, and love. Yes, love. If he could love my mother enough to spare my life, surely I should love justice enough to apologize. Yes apologize! The young, brave son of Count de Morcerf! The one who called himself Albert de Morcerf, a viscount! The vain Paris would no doubt bloom with gossip tomorrow. 'Have you heard that the young viscount backed out of the duel?' 'Have you heard that he said his father deserved the punishment?' Hahahaha! And all because the man has spared me... he spared me!" Albert was choked with tears.
"And I should spare him. I should thank him. My father deserved more, certainly, but he was spared his life. I deserve my lot, for challenging him, yet now I am spared as well, at the price of his own life. The man is extraordinary in his own way. I cannot fight him. I cannot kill him. I must apologize and thank him, publicly. His noble heart deserves also more than that, but that's all I can give, and he would understand. And me, I will make a fortune in the world myself. This home is no longer mine. I must leave and take nothing. I must."
As he passed by his mother's door, he knew that she was not asleep either. "But I have decided, mother, and I hope that you are proud of me for my decision."
I wish to thank the two for the reviews, and Anneliese, here is the second chapter you suggested me to write.
"He has decided not to kill me." Albert's mind was filled with a single thought and a single man. The significant face written with intelligence, the dark eyes shining with hatred and dark secrets, the voice resonating with confidence and pride. His head whirled as if he was drunk, and he shuddered without knowing that he did.
"My mother, in love with the count." He muttered, and his voice sounded foreign to his own ears. "They were lovers. She never loved my father - one is only truly in love once. And the count, the count still loves my mother. He has spared my life, he who controls our fate, our sorrow, our life." Realization flowed through his mind clearly as tears gathered in his eyes, in silence.
"And what does she expects me to do?" He shook his head. "God, why have you stricken my mother with such misfortunes? And who am I to choose between the traitor, whose blood I carry in my veins and conscience? I am only mortal. I am ordinary. I either betray my blood or my soul. Please, why was I born to be the son of Comte de Morcerf? Or the son of Fernand... Fernand, perhaps I can curse that name without being cast into the eternal fire. Fernand, whose treacherous heart built to what was to become my father, the father I admired, loved, and venerated! Fernand, whose sin extends to the life of an old man and the happiness of a youth! Fernand, whose wife and son would later come to despise him! Fernand, the tragedy formed with his very own hands! Why did you not strangle him, God, before he went too far? Before he ever mailed the letter, before he even conceived the idea of mailing the letter, before he was jealous! He has ruined a family he built, ruined the happiness of his beloved, and ruined the filial piety of his son! And I am that son! I should kill myself, while it is still dark, while this secret is still in the dark, beyond reach of those who already know how the man whom I called father betrayed his master. While I still have truth and honor carved in my heat... carved in heart's blood!" With torrents of thoughts, Albert buried his face in his hands and wept.
"But, if I kill myself, what would become of my poor mother? She has learned a terrible secret. She is full of guilt and shame, even more than what I have, for she must think that it is her fault. What must she think when she looks at me? Seeing that I carry the image of Fernand instead of Edmond Dantes? I could have been the sailor's son, simple, poor, but perhaps much happier than we both are right now. We may not be at the hopeless, like the old man starved to death. But our sorrow is great indeed, indeed...
I wonder how did the count ever overcome his melancholy. He is melancholy, isn't he? Even the proudest avenger is bitter, for he must have been greatly wronged. He must have been thinking of killing me, the son of the man who married his fiancé... The son who was to be his, and my mother's... He loved my mother, my beautiful, intelligent, and noble mother! How painful it must have been for her to tell me the truth, what courage! Yet I'd rather if she had not, for now I must decide, decide on this impossible decision, impossible at least for the son of Fernand and Mercedes."
For a moment, he sank into deep silence, his mind like an ocean with dangerous currents. He could not sleep, yet he wished for a sleep that would make him forget. Hashish? He smiled lightly, and raising his head, saw his furrowed brow inside a small mirror. The former Albert did not frown even at the face of death. The last time he saw that face, he was vibrant with life, although disturbed.
It was the evening when he felt vengeful, and it was night when he now felt helpless.
"Think of the count, Albert," a tiny voice said in his head, "Think of what he decided, imagine how he must have felt, and decide accordingly. That's what your mother wishes you to do. Think of the count, Albert."
"Yes, the count." Albert thought, letting his mind run free, "he stayed in prison for fourteen years because of what Fernand did. He came out, no longer a youth, no longer betrothed, and no longer with a father. And all this my father did to him." He shuddered at the word "father". "No, that man cannot be my father. He has no honor. This house, this title, this old home of mine are all no longer mine. And all because of what he did to Edmond Dantes! That innocent sailor who came back as a creature of darkness and justice, striking down my father with his mighty hand! He could crush me tomorrow, like an ant, under his feet, yet he has decided to die himself. He who has everything, happiness and wealth at last; he who was deprived; he who was undeserving of suffering... And now my turn, I who am also innocent in the matter of the marriage which borne me, I who owe this man my life because he has spared me, out of mercy, goodness, and love. Yes, love. If he could love my mother enough to spare my life, surely I should love justice enough to apologize. Yes apologize! The young, brave son of Count de Morcerf! The one who called himself Albert de Morcerf, a viscount! The vain Paris would no doubt bloom with gossip tomorrow. 'Have you heard that the young viscount backed out of the duel?' 'Have you heard that he said his father deserved the punishment?' Hahahaha! And all because the man has spared me... he spared me!" Albert was choked with tears.
"And I should spare him. I should thank him. My father deserved more, certainly, but he was spared his life. I deserve my lot, for challenging him, yet now I am spared as well, at the price of his own life. The man is extraordinary in his own way. I cannot fight him. I cannot kill him. I must apologize and thank him, publicly. His noble heart deserves also more than that, but that's all I can give, and he would understand. And me, I will make a fortune in the world myself. This home is no longer mine. I must leave and take nothing. I must."
As he passed by his mother's door, he knew that she was not asleep either. "But I have decided, mother, and I hope that you are proud of me for my decision."