Respawned as The Count of Glow-Up-Chapter 251: The Tenant: III

Mercédès had changed dramatically in recent days. It wasn’t that she’d ever dressed in the magnificent, ostentatious style that makes a woman unrecognizable when she appears in simple clothes. Nor had she fallen into the kind of depression where poverty is impossible to hide.

No, the change in Mercédès was different. Her eyes no longer sparkled. Her lips no longer smiled. The quick, clever words that used to flow so easily from her now came slowly, with hesitation.

It wasn’t poverty that had broken her spirit, it wasn’t a lack of courage that made her poverty unbearable. Though she’d fallen from her high position, lost in this new sphere she’d chosen, Mercédès was like someone passing from a brilliantly lit room into complete darkness. She seemed like a queen who’d fallen from her palace into a cottage, reduced to such strict necessity that she couldn’t reconcile herself to the cheap dishes she was forced to use or the humble bed where she now slept.

The beautiful woman who’d once been a countess had lost both her proud look and charming smile because she saw nothing but misery around her. The walls were covered in one of those gray papers that budget-conscious landlords choose because they don’t show dirt. The floor had no carpet. The furniture drew attention only to failed attempts at luxury. Everything offended eyes that had grown accustomed to refinement and elegance.

Madame de Morcerf had lived here since leaving her house. The constant silence of the place oppressed her. Still, seeing that Albert constantly watched her face to gauge her feelings, she forced herself to maintain a monotonous smile, though it only touched her lips, never reaching her eyes. Usually, her expressions were sweet and warm, but now they seemed like moonlight on a statue, yielding light without warmth.

Albert was equally uncomfortable. The remnants of his former luxury prevented him from fully accepting his current situation. If he wanted to go out without gloves, his hands looked too refined. If he wanted to walk through town, his boots seemed too polished.

Yet these two noble, intelligent people, united by the unbreakable bond of maternal and filial love, had silently learned to understand each other. They’d learned to economize their resources, and Albert had been able to tell his mother without making her flinch, "Mother, we have no more money."

Mercédès had never known true poverty. In her youth, she’d often spoken about being poor, but there’s a vast difference between want and necessity, two words that people treat as synonyms but really aren’t.

Among her people in Catalonia, Mercédès had wished for a thousand things but never truly needed anything. As long as the fishing nets were good, they caught fish. As long as they sold their fish, they could buy material for new nets. Back then, isolated from broader friendships and having only one deep affection that didn’t mix with her daily concerns, she’d thought only of herself.

With the little money she earned, she’d lived as well as she could. But now there were two people to support and nothing to live on.

Winter was approaching. Mercédès had no fire in that cold, bare room, she who was accustomed to heating systems that warmed every room from the entrance hall to the bedroom. She didn’t even have one little flower, she whose apartment had once been filled with expensive exotic plants.

But she had her son.

Until now, the excitement of fulfilling their duty had sustained them. Excitement, like enthusiasm, sometimes makes us unconscious of earthly hardships. But the excitement had faded, and they found themselves forced to descend from dreams to reality. After exhausting the ideal, they had to face the actual.

"Mother," Albert said just as Madame Danglars was descending the stairs below, "let’s count our wealth. I need to know what I’m working with to build my plans."

"Wealth? We have nothing," Mercédès replied with a sad smile.

"No, Mother, we have capital of three thousand francs. And I have an idea for how we can lead a wonderful life on this three thousand francs."

"Child!" Mercédès sighed.

"Unfortunately, dear Mother," the young man said, "I’ve spent too much of your money not to know its value. These three thousand francs are enormous, and I plan to build a miraculous future on this foundation."

"You say this, my dear boy, but do you think we should accept these three thousand francs?" Mercédès asked, blushing.

"I do," Albert answered firmly. "We’ll accept them more readily because we don’t have them here, they’re buried in the garden of our little house in the Allées de Meillan in Marseilles. With two hundred francs, we can reach Marseilles."

"With two hundred francs? Are you sure, Albert?"

"I’ve researched the coaches and steamboats thoroughly. My calculations are solid. You’ll take your seat in the private coach compartment to Châlons. See, Mother? I’m treating you well, for thirty-five francs."

Albert took a pen and wrote:

- Private compartment, thirty-five francs: 35

- From Châlons to Lyon by steamboat: 6

- From Lyon to Avignon (still by steamboat): 16

- From Avignon to Marseilles, seven francs: 7

- Road expenses, about fifty francs: 50

- Total: 114 francs

"Let’s call it one hundred twenty," Albert added with a smile. "See how generous I am, Mother?"

"But what about you, my poor child?"

"Me? You can see I’m keeping eighty francs for myself. A young man doesn’t need luxuries. Besides, I know all about traveling."

"With a private coach and personal servant, you mean?"

"Any way necessary, Mother."

"Well then, so be it. But where will we get these two hundred francs?"

"Right here, plus two hundred more." Albert pulled out his watch. "See? I sold my watch for one hundred francs, and the chain and seals for three hundred. Lucky that the decorations were worth more than the watch itself. Same old story about unnecessary luxuries. But now I think we’re rich, instead of the one hundred fourteen francs we need for the journey, we have two hundred fifty." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"But don’t we owe money on this apartment?"

"Thirty francs, but I’m paying that out of my one hundred fifty francs, that’s already accounted for. Since I only need eighty francs for my journey, you can see I’m drowning in luxury. But that’s not all. What do you think of this, Mother?"

Albert took out a small pocket-book with golden clasps, a remnant of his old lifestyle, or perhaps a tender gift from one of those mysterious, veiled ladies who used to visit his door. From this pocket-book, he pulled out a thousand-franc note.

"What’s this?" Mercédès asked.

"One thousand francs."

"Where did you get it?"

"Listen to me, Mother, and try not to get too upset." Albert stood and kissed his mother on both cheeks, then gazed at her with deep affection. "You know, Mother, I think you’re beautiful. Truly. You’re the most beautiful and noble woman I’ve ever seen."

"Dear child!" Mercédès whispered, trying in vain to hold back a tear that glistened in the corner of her eye. "All you needed was misfortune to transform my love for you into admiration. I’m not unhappy as long as I have my son."

"Exactly," Albert said. "And now we come to the difficult part. Do you know what decision we’ve made, Mother?"

"Have we made a decision?"

"Yes. It’s decided that you’ll live in Marseilles, and I’m leaving for Africa, where I’ll earn the right to use the name I now bear instead of the one I’ve abandoned."

Mercédès sighed deeply.