The Count and the Convict

Scheherazade

The door swung open with the dark coachman swinging in with it. He held the door open with attentive care for the abbe to enter. Edmond Dantes stepped through the door, his stiff clerical garb seemed to become even more hardened from the freezing air.

The gust of wind from the gaping entry, whipped between those hunched over their bowls, causing them to straighten up and give attention to the newcomer. They were not pleased and tensed their shoulders to fight the fall air.

"I will wait for you in the coach, Father," the coachman addressed Edmond.

"My thanks, Jocopo," Edmond replied and placed his hand on Jocopo's shoulder. "I hope not to be long."

Jocopo nodded with a smile and retreated from the inn, closing the door behind him.

Edmond looked about the room and seeing only one seat approached the white-haired man.

"Monsieur," he addressed, "Would you greatly mind if I shared this table?"

Jean Valjean lifted his head from his hands and looked directly at Edmond, his eyes squinting as he studied the pseudo-cleric. Edmond looked back with the same inquisitive gaze but hid his thoughts more precisely.

"Yes, Father. . ." Valjean replied and motioned with a benevolent hand for Edmond to take a seat.

"Abbe Busoni," Edmond replied and bowed his head. He then placed the Arabian Nights on the table. "And thank you, Monsieur . . ."

"LeBlanc. An interesting book for a priest," Valjean commented.

Edmond after finding his seat, confidently and without unease answered the inquiry, "You have read it?"

"No," Valjean replied flatly, not wanting to admit that he could only read very little.

The innkeeper woman sauntered over to the table with a ladle and poured some more watery stew into Valjean's bowl.

"You gonna eat, Father?" She asked Edmond gruffly but then reconsidered her tone.

He placed a few sous on the table, which were promptly swept into the woman's apron. She turned to leave but found her hand grasped by Edmond.

"Madame," Edmond started and looked directly at her. "Are you Madame Canard?"

"Yes," she answered and shuffled her feet with unease at his intent gaze.

Edmond's demeanor was not harsh, but still, the presence of an abbe was enough to make Madame Canard uncomfortable. "I am looking for a banker, Danglars, which I have heard that you have had dealings with."

Madame Canard whipped her hand from his grasp and looked up to his eyes. "I know him. But if you are looking to absolve his sins, I will not direct you to him. Forgive me, Father. Some sins don't deserve forgiving."

"You owe him," Edmond pursued. "How much?"

"Five thousand Francs," Madame Canard almost laughed. "For a one thousand note! Could your absolution, cover that!"

Edmond reached into his pocket and pulled out his hand closed in a fist. He reached and placed the contents into Madame Canard's palm. Valjean could not see the amount, but he could hear the sharp tingle of coins. Madame looked down at the coins and glowed at the sight of what she had just received.

"I believe that will absolve your debt," Edmond smiled.

Madame Canard's knees buckled but she didn't fall. "Oh thank you, Father," she said in an excited whisper.

"Enough, child," Edmond stopped her, trying to avoid a scene. "I am hungry."

"Oh, yes," she replied, "Yes, I have something special, I am sure you will enjoy. Thank you." She rushed off.

Jean Valjean looked on with interest and approval. He took a sip of his stew and smiled. Edmond crossed his arms with a thought of satisfied reflection.

"You are not a priest," Valjean muttered.

Edmond straightened up in his chair, his satisfied countenance disappearing. "What makes you say that?"

"A wealthy abbe would not care for the poor," Valjean said and took another sip. "Either you are a poor priest pretending to be rich." Valjean paused and pierced Edmond with his eyes. "Or you are a wealthy man pretending to be a priest."

Dantes tensed his lip at the last comment and furrowed his dark brow. Valjean was sure to notice, and that gesture told him everything. "Ah, that's what I thought."

Dantes, realizing he had given himself away, regained his composure and leaned forward with a forced smile. His interest in Valjean grew. Since his escape, Dantes had quickly learned the value of finding friends, especially cunning ones. Valjean suddenly seemed more valuable to him, and as Dantes quickly thought of many future possibilities, he became aware of something very slight in the little that he knew about Valjean.

"LeBlanc," Dantes said after the brief pause. "An interesting name."

Valjean took a sip from his cup as if the name was inconsequential. Madame Canard brought a cup of red wine, a piece of bread, and a bowl of stew and placed it in front of Edmond.

"Here you are, Father," she said with admiration. The stew, unlike the others, had a red goat's meat in it with the potatoes and carrots, and with the bread and wine, the fare was tantamount to a Saint-Antoine feast. The woman smiled and stood close as if she would have embraced Edmond. "If you would like more, just let me know."

"Thank you, child," Edmond said and blessed the food and woman. Satisfied, Madame Canard walked away having served a holy man and repaid his sacral indulgence.

He sipped the wine but did not taste the food yet, still having a thought he wanted to complete.

"As I said, LeBlanc is an interesting name. Has your family always had snow white hair? Or are you the first LeBlanc?"

Valjean was now uncomfortable, knowing what Dantes was implying. Valjean massaged his hands together in anxiety and then began to get up.

Edmond put a hand on his forearm lightly. "Please, Monsieur LeBlanc, I mean nothing ill. Just that, perhaps, we are kindred spirits. Please stay, you are safe with me."

Valjean resisted and stood up, vacillating between leaving and staying.

Dantes picked up the Arabian Nights with his left hand and quickly spoke. "Scheherazade was not the only tale maker. You and I both have tales we have made. Please sit and I will tell a tale, and if you find it pleasing then you may tell me one as well. Maybe we are part of very similar stories."

Valjean, so often alone in his struggles, was tempted by the hope of a kindred spirit. He reluctantly took his seat.

"I will only tell you the truth. Who am I? My name is LeBlanc, and my tale is just of a man that tries to pursue happiness, the same as everyone."

Edmond chuckled under his breath. "Of course, Monsieur LeBlanc. We can tell those tales. Yes, we can pretend to tell the truth, and pretend to believe each other's stories. Or. . ." Edmond took a bite of the bread and washed it down with some wine. "We can pretend to tell lies, and pretend to disbelieve them."

The Arabian Nights was a significant collection for Edmond Dantes.  So many elements were complementary to Dantes' life: being trapped in prison, escaping from an island, going from pauper to prince, and Scheherazade's telling of tales.  

The picture above is the cover of an 1800's edition of The Arabian Nights, perhaps the same book Edmond was carrying.  Most editions were abridged then, as they still are today.  The complete volume would have been accessible to Edmond, but this small collection would have been easier to carry on his reconnaissance trips.

Jean Valjean was illiterate, or at least mostly so.  And so he would have recognized the book by its pictures and script, more than its words.  As detailed in the narrative, this is something he hid due to embarrassment, but also because it would not have fit with the alias he was hiding under, and so, may have given away his true identity.

Let me know.  What is your favorite Arabian Nights tale?