"Forgive me, sir," Villefort replied, thoroughly astounded, "but you’ll excuse me if, when I came here, I wasn’t prepared to meet someone whose knowledge and understanding so far surpass normal human capacity. It’s unusual in our corrupted civilization to find gentlemen like yourself, possessors of immense fortune, or so I’m told, and please note I’m not prying, merely repeating what I’ve heard, it’s unusual, I say, for such privileged and wealthy individuals to waste their time on philosophical speculation about society, the kind of thinking meant to console those whom fate has denied worldly success." "Really, sir," the Count shot back, "have you reached your high position without encountering exceptions? Don’t you ever use those sharp, discerning eyes of yours to instantly judge the character of the person standing before you? Shouldn’t a magistrate be not merely an administrator of the law, but the craftiest interpreter of legal loopholes, a steel probe to search hearts, a touchstone to test the gold that’s mixed with varying amounts of impurity in every soul?" "Sir," Villefort said, "upon my word, you overwhelm me. I’ve truly never heard anyone speak the way you do." "That’s because you remain forever trapped in a circle of conventional thinking and have never dared to soar into those higher realms that God has populated with invisible or exceptional beings." "So you’re saying, sir, that such realms exist, and these extraordinary invisible beings walk among us?" "Why shouldn’t they? Can you see the air you breathe? Yet without it, you couldn’t exist for even a moment." "So we don’t see these beings you’re referring to?" "Yes, we do. You see them whenever God allows them to take physical form. You touch them, interact with them, speak to them, and they reply." "Ah," Villefort said, smiling, "I confess I’d like to be warned when one of these beings is near me." "Your wish has been granted, monsieur. You were warned just now, and I warn you again." "Then you yourself are one of these extraordinary beings?" "Yes, monsieur, I believe so. Until now, no one has found themselves in a position like mine. Kings’ domains are limited by mountains, rivers, cultural boundaries, or language barriers. My kingdom is bounded only by the world itself, for I am not Italian, French, Hindu, American, or Spanish, I am a citizen of the world. No country witnessed my birth. God alone knows which will witness my death. I adopt all customs, speak all languages. You think I’m French because I speak your language with the same fluency and purity as you do. Well, Ali, my servant, believes I’m Arab. Bertuccio, my steward, takes me for Roman. Haydée, my companion, thinks I’m Greek. You can understand, then, that belonging to no country, asking protection from no government, acknowledging no man as my brother, none of the moral constraints that bind the powerful or the obstacles that paralyze the weak affect me. I have only two adversaries, I won’t call them conquerors, because with persistence I overcome even them: time and distance. There’s a third, most terrible one, my mortality. That alone can stop me before I reach my goal. Everything else I’ve reduced to mathematics. What people call fate, ruin, change, circumstances, I’ve fully anticipated. Even if any of these overtake me, they won’t overwhelm me. Unless I die, I shall always remain what I am. That’s why I say things you’ve never heard even from kings, because kings need you, and others fear you. For who doesn’t think to themselves in our chaotic society, ’Perhaps someday I’ll have to deal with the king’s attorney’?" "But can’t you say that too, sir? The moment you become a resident of France, you’re naturally subject to French law." "I know that, sir," Monte Cristo replied. "But when I visit a country, I study, by every means available, the people from whom I might have something to hope or fear, until I know them as well as, perhaps better than, they know themselves. It follows that whatever prosecutor I might have to deal with would certainly be more uncomfortable than I would be." "That is to say," Villefort replied hesitantly, "that since human nature is weak, every person, according to your belief, has committed wrongdoings." "Wrongdoings or crimes," Monte Cristo responded casually. "And that you alone, among the people you don’t recognize as your equals, as you’ve said," Villefort observed in a slightly faltering tone, "you alone are perfect." "No, not perfect," the Count replied. "Just impenetrable, that’s all. But let’s change the subject, sir, if this conversation displeases you. I’m no more troubled by your justice system than you are by my insights." "No, no, not at all," Villefort said, afraid of seeming to retreat. "No, your brilliant and almost sublime conversation has elevated me above ordinary thinking. We’re no longer just talking, we’re engaged in intellectual discourse. But you know how theologians in their academic debates and philosophers in their arguments sometimes speak harsh truths. Let’s suppose we’re engaged in social theology, or even philosophy, and I’ll say to you, blunt as it may sound: ’My friend, you sacrifice greatly to pride. You may be above others, but above you there is God.’" Read complete versıon only at 𝗇𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗅•𝖿𝗂𝗋𝖾•𝗇𝖾𝗍 "Above us all, sir," Monte Cristo responded in a tone so deep and emphatic that Villefort involuntarily shuddered. "I have my pride when dealing with people, serpents always ready to strike at anyone who passes without crushing them underfoot. But I set aside that pride before God, who has raised me from nothing to make me what I am." "Then, Count, I admire you," Villefort said. For the first time in this strange conversation, he used the aristocratic title for this unknown person he’d only called "monsieur" until now. "Yes, and I tell you, if you’re truly as strong, superior, and pious, or impenetrable, which as you rightly said amounts to the same thing, then be proud, sir, for that’s the mark of greatness. Yet you must have some ambition." "And what might it be?" "I too, like every person at some point in their life, was taken by Satan to the highest mountain on earth. When we stood there, he showed me all the kingdoms of the world, and he said to me, ’Child of earth, what would you want in exchange for worshipping me?’ I thought long, because a gnawing ambition had plagued me for years. Then I replied, ’Listen, I’ve always heard of Providence, yet I’ve never seen it, or anything resembling it, or anything that makes me believe it exists. I wish to *be* Providence myself, for I feel that the most beautiful, noblest, most sublime thing in the world is to reward and punish.’ Satan bowed his head and groaned. ’You’re mistaken,’ he said. ’Providence does exist, but you’ve never seen it because God’s work is as invisible as God himself. You’ve seen nothing resembling it because it works through secret mechanisms and hidden pathways. All I can do is make you one of Providence’s agents.’ The bargain was made. I may have sacrificed my soul, but what does it matter?" Monte Cristo added. "If I had to do it again, I would." Villefort stared at Monte Cristo in extreme amazement. "Count," he asked, "do you have any family?" "No, sir. I am alone in the world." "That’s unfortunate." "Why?" Monte Cristo asked. "Because then you might witness something that would shatter your pride. You say you fear nothing but death?" "I didn’t say I feared it. I only said that death alone could prevent me from completing my plans." "My goal will be achieved before I grow old." "I’ve been nearly mad before. You know the legal principle: non bis in idem, not twice for the same thing. It’s a principle of criminal law, so you understand its full meaning." "Sir," Villefort continued, "there’s something else to fear besides death, old age, and madness. For instance, there’s stroke, that lightning bolt that strikes but doesn’t kill you, yet ends everything. You’re still yourself as you are now, yet you’re no longer yourself. You, who might seem almost angelic, become merely an inert mass, reduced to something brutish. This is called, in plain language, a stroke. Come, if you wish, Count, and continue this conversation at my house any day you’re willing to face an opponent capable of understanding and eager to challenge you. I’ll show you my father, Monsieur Noirtier de Villefort, one of the most fervent revolutionaries of the French Revolution. He had remarkable audacity backed by powerful vitality, a man who helped overthrow one of the greatest governments. A man who believed himself, like you, to be an agent not of God, but of fate itself. Well, sir, the rupture of a blood vessel in his brain destroyed all of that, not in a day, not in an hour, but in a second. Monsieur Noirtier, who the previous night was a bold revolutionary, a powerful senator, laughing at the guillotine, the cannon, and the dagger, Monsieur Noirtier, who played with revolutions like chess pieces, he became the next morning a helpless old man, at the mercy of the weakest person in the household, his granddaughter, Valentine. A mute and frozen shell, living on painlessly only so time can decompose his body while he remains unconscious of its decay." "Alas, sir," Monte Cristo said, "this spectacle is neither strange to me nor new to my thoughts. I have some medical knowledge and have searched for the soul in both living and dead matter more than once. Yet, like Providence itself, it has remained invisible to my eyes, though present in my heart. A hundred writers since ancient times have made the comparison you’ve made. Still, I understand that a father’s suffering can profoundly change a son’s perspective. I will visit you, sir, since you invite me to witness, for the benefit of my pride, this terrible sight, which must have been such a source of sorrow to your family." "It would have been, had God not given me great compensation. In contrast to the old man dragging himself toward the grave are two children just beginning life. Valentine, my daughter from my first wife, Mademoiselle Renée de Saint-Méran, and Edward, the boy whose life you saved today." "And what do you conclude from this compensation, sir?" Monte Cristo asked. "My conclusion," Villefort replied, "is that my father, led astray by his passions, committed some wrong unknown to human justice but marked by God’s justice. God, merciful yet just, chose to punish only one person, visiting justice upon him alone." Monte Cristo, with a smile on his lips, uttered deep in his soul a groan that would have made Villefort flee had he heard it. "Farewell, sir," the magistrate said, rising from his seat. "I leave you with a memory, a memory of respect, which I hope won’t be unwelcome when you know me better. I’m not someone who burdens his friends, as you’ll discover. Besides, you’ve made an eternal friend of Madame de Villefort." The Count bowed and was content to escort Villefort only to the door of his study. Two footmen, following a signal from their master, escorted the prosecutor to his carriage with every sign of respect. When he was gone, Monte Cristo breathed a deep sigh and said, "Enough of this poison. Let me now seek the antidote." Then, ringing his bell, he said to Ali, who entered, "I’m going to the lady’s chamber. Have the carriage ready at one o’clock."