Chapter 30: A Dangerous Game: II
Old man Noirtier had been right all along. Things moved fast, just like he’d predicted. Everyone knows the story of Napoleon’s famous comeback from exile, something that had never happened before and probably never would again.
The current king, Louis XVIII, barely even tried to fight back against this unexpected blow. The government he’d just rebuilt was already shaking on its weak foundation. With just a gesture from the emperor, the whole messy structure of old traditions and new ideas came crashing down.
Villefort gained nothing from his loyalty except the king’s gratitude, which was more likely to hurt him now, and a medal of honor that he was smart enough not to wear, even though it had been officially sent to him.
Napoleon would have definitely fired Villefort from his job, except for one thing: Noirtier had serious pull at court. So the same man who’d been a revolutionary in 1793 and a senator in 1806 now protected the very person who had once protected him.
Even with all his influence, Villefort could barely keep quiet the secret that Dantès had almost revealed. Only the previous prosecutor lost his job, suspected of being too loyal to the king.
But as soon as imperial power was back in place, meaning as soon as the emperor returned to the royal palace and started giving orders from the same office where Louis XVIII had left his half-empty snuffbox, trouble started brewing in Marseilles again.
Despite what the authorities wanted, the flames of civil war began rekindling in the south, as they always did. It wouldn’t take much to push the people toward violence far worse than just shouting insults at royalist supporters whenever they dared show their faces.
Because of this political shift, the respectable shipowner Morrel suddenly found himself in a position of influence. He wasn’t exactly all-powerful, Morrel was a careful, somewhat timid man, so much so that many of Napoleon’s most passionate supporters accused him of being too "moderate." But he had enough pull to make a demand on behalf of Dantès.
Villefort kept his position, but his wedding was postponed until things settled down. If the emperor stayed in power, his fiancée’s family would need different political connections to help his career. If Louis XVIII came back, both his influence and his future father-in-law’s could be greatly increased, making the marriage even more beneficial. So Villefort remained the top prosecutor in Marseilles when, one morning, his door opened and Morrel was announced.
Anyone else would have rushed to meet him, but Villefort was a smart man who knew that would look weak. He made Morrel wait in the outer office even though no one else was with him, simply because prosecutors always make people wait. After spending fifteen minutes reading papers, he finally ordered Morrel to be let in.
Morrel had expected to find Villefort defeated and broken. Instead, he found him exactly as he had six weeks earlier, calm, steady, and radiating that icy politeness that creates an unbreachable wall between refined and common people.
Morrel had entered the office expecting the judge to tremble at the sight of him. Instead, he felt a cold shiver run through his entire body when he saw Villefort sitting there with his elbow on his desk and his head resting on his hand. He stopped at the door. Villefort looked at him as if having trouble recognizing him. After a brief pause, during which the honest shipowner nervously turned his hat in his hands.
"Mr. Morrel, I believe?" Villefort said.
"Yes, sir."
"Come closer," the judge said with a patronizing wave of his hand, "and tell me what brings you the honor of this visit."
"Don’t you already know?" Morrel asked.
"Not at all. But if I can help you in any way, I’d be delighted to."
"Everything depends on you."
"Please, explain."
"Sir," Morrel said, gaining confidence as he spoke, "do you remember that a few days before His Majesty the Emperor landed, I came to plead for a young man, the first mate of my ship, who was accused of communicating with the island where Napoleon was exiled?
What was considered a crime then is now a reason for favor. Back then you served Louis XVIII, and you showed no mercy, that was your duty. Today you serve Napoleon, and you should protect him, that’s equally your duty. So I’ve come to ask, what’s happened to him?"
Villefort made a strong effort to control himself. "What’s his name?" he said. "Tell me his name."
"Edmond Dantès."
Villefort probably would have preferred to face a loaded gun at twenty-five paces rather than hear that name spoken, but his expression didn’t change.
"Dantès," he repeated. "Edmond Dantès."
"Yes, sir."
Villefort opened a large ledger, then went to a table, then back to his records, and finally, turning to Morrel, "Are you absolutely sure you’re not mistaken?" he asked in the most natural tone possible.
If Morrel had been more observant or experienced in these matters, he would have been surprised that the prosecutor was answering him directly instead of referring him to the prison wardens or the regional prefect. But Morrel, disappointed that he hadn’t managed to intimidate the man, only noticed Villefort’s apparent cooperation. Villefort had calculated correctly.
"No," Morrel said, "I’m not mistaken. I’ve known him for ten years, the last four of which he worked for me. Don’t you remember? I came about six weeks ago to beg for mercy, just like I’m here today begging for justice. You received me very coldly then. Oh, the royalists were very harsh with Napoleon’s supporters in those days."
"Sir," Villefort replied, "I was a royalist then because I believed the Bourbon family were not only the rightful heirs to the throne, but chosen by the nation. Napoleon’s miraculous return has convinced me otherwise, the legitimate ruler is the one loved by his people."
"That’s right!" Morrel exclaimed. "I like hearing you say that, and it makes me hopeful for Edmond."
"Wait a moment," Villefort said, flipping through pages in a register. "I have it here, a sailor who was about to marry a young local girl. I remember now. It was a very serious charge."
"How so?"
"You know that when he left here, he was taken to the courthouse."
"Yes?"
"I sent my report to the authorities in Paris, and a week later he was taken away."
"Taken away!" Morrel said. "What could they have done with him?"
"Oh, he’s been sent to one of the fortress prisons, Fenestrelles, Pignerol, or the Sainte-Marguerite islands. Some fine morning he’ll return to take command of your ship."
"Whenever he comes, his position will be waiting for him. But why hasn’t he returned already? It seems to me the government’s first priority should be freeing those who suffered for supporting it."
"Don’t be too hasty, Mr. Morrel," Villefort replied. "The imprisonment order came from high authority, and the release order must come from the same source. Since Napoleon has barely been back in power for two weeks, the paperwork hasn’t been processed yet."
"But," Morrel said, "isn’t there some way to speed up all this red tape and get him released?"
"There was no official arrest."
"What?"