"Really? They can't be nice, though they do say `as fat as a dormouse.' It is not a wonder they are fat, sleeping all day, and only waking to eat all night.Listen.Last year Ihad four apricots -- they stole one, I had one nectarine, only one -- well, sir, they ate half of it on the wall; a splendid nectarine -- I never ate a better.""You ate it?"
"That is to say, the half that was left -- you understand;it was exquisite, sir.Ah, those gentlemen never choose the worst morsels; like Mere Simon's son, who has not chosen the worst strawberries.But this year," continued the horticulturist, "I'll take care it shall not happen, even if I should be forced to sit by the whole night to watch when the strawberries are ripe." Monte Cristo had seen enough.
Every man has a devouring passion in his heart, as every fruit has its worm; that of the telegraph man was horticulture.He began gathering the grape-leaves which screened the sun from the grapes, and won the heart of the gardener."Did you come here, sir, to see the telegraph?" he said.
"Yes, if it isn't contrary to the rules.""Oh, no," said the gardener; "not in the least, since there is no danger that anyone can possibly understand what we are saying.""I have been told," said the count, "that you do not always yourselves understand the signals you repeat.""That is true, sir, and that is what I like best," said the man, smiling.
"Why do you like that best?"
"Because then I have no responsibility.I am a machine then, and nothing else, and so long as I work, nothing more is required of me.""Is it possible," said Monte Cristo to himself, "that I can have met with a man that has no ambition? That would spoil my plans.""Sir," said the gardener, glancing at the sun-dial, "the ten minutes are almost up; I must return to my post.Will you go up with me?""I follow you." Monte Cristo entered the tower, which was divided into three stories.The tower contained implements, such as spades, rakes, watering-pots, hung against the wall;this was all the furniture.The second was the man's conventional abode, or rather sleeping-place; it contained a few poor articles of household furniture -- a bed, a table, two chairs, a stone pitcher -- and some dry herbs, hung up to the ceiling, which the count recognized as sweet pease, and of which the good man was preserving the seeds; he had labelled them with as much care as if he had been master botanist in the Jardin des Plantes.
"Does it require much study to learn the art of telegraphing?" asked Monte Cristo.
"The study does not take long; it was acting as a supernumerary that was so tedious.""And what is the pay?"
"A thousand francs, sir."
"It is nothing."
"No; but then we are lodged, as you perceive."Monte Cristo looked at the room.They passed to the third story; it was the telegraph room.Monte Cristo looked in turn at the two iron handles by which the machine was worked."It is very interesting," he said, "but it must be very tedious for a lifetime.""Yes.At first my neck was cramped with looking at it, but at the end of a year I became used to it; and then we have our hours of recreation, and our holidays.""Holidays?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"When we have a fog."
"Ah, to be sure."
"Those are indeed holidays to me; I go into the garden, Iplant, I prune, I trim, I kill the insects all day long.""How long have you been here?"
"Ten years, and five as a supernumerary make fifteen.""You are -- "
"Fifty-five years old."
"How long must you have served to claim the pension?""Oh, sir, twenty-five years."
"And how much is the pension?"
"A hundred crowns."
"Poor humanity!" murmured Monte Cristo.
"What did you say, sir?" asked the man.
"I was saying it was very interesting."
"What was?"
"All you were showing me.And you really understand none of these signals?""None at all."
"And have you never tried to understand them?""Never.Why should I?"
"But still there are some signals only addressed to you.""Certainly."
"And do you understand them?"
"They are always the same."
"And they mean -- "
"Nothing new; You have an hour; or To-morrow.""This is simple enough," said the count; "but look, is not your correspondent putting itself in motion?""Ah, yes; thank you, sir."
"And what is it saying -- anything you understand?""Yes; it asks if I am ready."
"And you reply?"
"By the same sign, which, at the same time, tells my right-hand correspondent that I am ready, while it gives notice to my left-hand correspondent to prepare in his turn.""It is very ingenious," said the count.
"You will see," said the man proudly; "in five minutes he will speak.""I have, then, five minutes," said Monte Cristo to himself;"it is more time than I require.My dear sir, will you allow me to ask you a question?""What is it, sir?"
"You are fond of gardening?"
"Passionately."
"And you would be pleased to have, instead of this terrace of twenty feet, an enclosure of two acres?""Sir, I should make a terrestrial paradise of it.""You live badly on your thousand francs?""Badly enough; but yet I do live."
"Yes; but you have a wretchedly small garden.""True, the garden is not large."
"And, then, such as it is, it is filled with dormice, who eat everything.""Ah, they are my scourges."
"Tell me, should you have the misfortune to turn your head while your right-hand correspondent was telegraphing" --"I should not see him."
"Then what would happen?"
"I could not repeat the signals."
"And then?"
"Not having repeated them, through negligence, I should be fined.""How much?"
"A hundred francs."
"The tenth of your income -- that would be fine work.""Ah," said the man.
