_ Meanwhile M. Cavalcanti the elder had returned to his
service, not in the army of his majesty the Emperor of
Austria, but at the gaming-table of the baths of Lucca, of
which he was one of the most assiduous courtiers. He had
spent every farthing that had been allowed for his journey
as a reward for the majestic and solemn manner in which he
had maintained his assumed character of father. M. Andrea at
his departure inherited all the papers which proved that he
had indeed the honor of being the son of the Marquis
Bartolomeo and the Marchioness Oliva Corsinari. He was now
fairly launched in that Parisian society which gives such
ready access to foreigners, and treats them, not as they
really are, but as they wish to be considered. Besides, what
is required of a young man in Paris? To speak its language
tolerably, to make a good appearance, to be a good gamester,
and to pay in cash. They are certainly less particular with
a foreigner than with a Frenchman. Andrea had, then, in a
fortnight, attained a very fair position. He was called
count, he was said to possess 50,000 livres per annum; and
his father's immense riches, buried in the quarries of
Saravezza, were a constant theme. A learned man, before whom
the last circumstance was mentioned as a fact, declared he
had seen the quarries in question, which gave great weight
to assertions hitherto somewhat doubtful, but which now
assumed the garb of reality.
Such was the state of society in Paris at the period we
bring before our readers, when Monte Cristo went one evening
to pay M. Danglars a visit. M. Danglars was out, but the
count was asked to go and see the baroness, and he accepted
the invitation. It was never without a nervous shudder,
since the dinner at Auteuil, and the events which followed
it, that Madame Danglars heard Monte Cristo's name
announced. If he did not come, the painful sensation became
most intense; if, on the contrary, he appeared, his noble
countenance, his brilliant eyes, his amiability, his polite
attention even towards Madame Danglars, soon dispelled every
impression of fear. It appeared impossible to the baroness
that a man of such delightfully pleasing manners should
entertain evil designs against her; besides, the most
corrupt minds only suspect evil when it would answer some
interested end -- useless injury is repugnant to every mind.
When Monte Cristo entered the boudoir, -- to which we have
already once introduced our readers, and where the baroness
was examining some drawings, which her daughter passed to
her after having looked at them with M. Cavalcanti, -- his
presence soon produced its usual effect, and it was with
smiles that the baroness received the count, although she
had been a little disconcerted at the announcement of his
name. The latter took in the whole scene at a glance.
The baroness was partially reclining on a sofa, Eugenie sat
near her, and Cavalcanti was standing. Cavalcanti, dressed
in black, like one of Goethe's heroes, with varnished shoes
and white silk open-worked stockings, passed a white and
tolerably nice-looking hand through his light hair, and so
displayed a sparkling diamond, that in spite of Monte
Cristo's advice the vain young man had been unable to resist
putting on his little finger. This movement was accompanied
by killing glances at Mademoiselle Danglars, and by sighs
launched in the same direction. Mademoiselle Danglars was
still the same -- cold, beautiful, and satirical. Not one of
these glances, nor one sigh, was lost on her; they might
have been said to fall on the shield of Minerva, which some
philosophers assert protected sometimes the breast of
Sappho. Eugenie bowed coldly to the count, and availed
herself of the first moment when the conversation became
earnest to escape to her study, whence very soon two
cheerful and noisy voices being heard in connection with
occasional notes of the piano assured Monte Cristo that
Mademoiselle Danglars preferred to his society and to that
of M. Cavalcanti the company of Mademoiselle Louise
d'Armilly, her singing teacher.
It was then, especially while conversing with Madame
Danglars, and apparently absorbed by the charm of the
conversation, that the count noticed M. Andrea Cavalcanti's
solicitude, his manner of listening to the music at the door
he dared not pass, and of manifesting his admiration. The
banker soon returned. His first look was certainly directed
towards Monte Cristo, but the second was for Andrea. As for
his wife, he bowed to her, as some husbands do to their
wives, but in a way that bachelors will never comprehend,
until a very extensive code is published on conjugal life.
"Have not the ladies invited you to join them at the piano?"
said Danglars to Andrea. "Alas, no, sir," replied Andrea
with a sigh, still more remarkable than the former ones.
Danglars immediately advanced towards the door and opened
it.
The two young ladies were seen seated on the same chair, at
the piano, accompanying themselves, each with one hand, a
fancy to which they had accustomed themselves, and performed
admirably. Mademoiselle d'Armilly, whom they then perceived
through the open doorway, formed with Eugenie one of the
tableaux vivants of which the Germans are so fond. She was
somewhat beautiful, and exquisitely formed -- a little
fairy-like figure, with large curls falling on her neck,
which was rather too long, as Perugino sometimes makes his
Virgins, and her eyes dull from fatigue. She was said to
have a weak chest, and like Antonia in the "Cremona Violin,"
she would die one day while singing. Monte Cristo cast one
rapid and curious glance round this sanctum; it was the
first time he had ever seen Mademoiselle d'Armilly, of whom
he had heard much. "Well," said the banker to his daughter,
"are we then all to be excluded?" He then led the young man
into the study, and either by chance or manoeuvre the door
was partially closed after Andrea, so that from the place
where they sat neither the Count nor the baroness could see
anything; but as the banker had accompanied Andrea, Madame
Danglars appeared to take no notice of it.
The count soon heard Andrea's voice, singing a Corsican
song, accompanied by the piano. While the count smiled at
hearing this song, which made him lose sight of Andrea in
the recollection of Benedetto, Madame Danglars was boasting
to Monte Cristo of her husband's strength of mind, who that
very morning had lost three or four hundred thousand francs
by a failure at Milan. The praise was well deserved, for had
not the count heard it from the baroness, or by one of those
means by which he knew everything, the baron's countenance
would not have led him to suspect it. "Hem," thought Monte
Cristo, "he begins to conceal his losses; a month since he
boasted of them." Then aloud, -- "Oh, madame, M. Danglars is
so skilful, he will soon regain at the Bourse what he loses
elsewhere."
"I see that you participate in a prevalent error," said
Madame Danglars. "What is it?" said Monte Cristo.
"That M. Danglars speculates, whereas he never does."
"Truly, madame, I recollect M. Debray told me -- apropos,
what is become of him? I have seen nothing of him the last
three or four days."
"Nor I," said Madame Danglars; "but you began a sentence,
sir, and did not finish."
"Which?"
"M. Debray had told you" --
"Ah, yes; he told me it was you who sacrificed to the demon
of speculation."
"I was once very fond of it, but I do not indulge now."
"Then you are wrong, madame. Fortune is precarious; and if I
were a woman and fate had made me a banker's wife, whatever
might be my confidence in my husband's good fortune, still
in speculation you know there is great risk. Well, I would
secure for myself a fortune independent of him, even if I
acquired it by placing my interests in hands unknown to
him." Madame Danglars blushed, in spite of all her efforts.
"Stay," said Monte Cristo, as though he had not observed her
confusion, "I have heard of a lucky hit that was made
yesterday on the Neapolitan bonds."
"I have none -- nor have I ever possessed any; but really we
have talked long enough of money, count, we are like two
stockbrokers; have you heard how fate is persecuting the
poor Villeforts?"
"What has happened?" said the count, simulating total
ignorance.
"You know the Marquis of Saint-Meran died a few days after
he had set out on his journey to Paris, and the marchioness
a few days after her arrival?"
"Yes," said Monte Cristo, "I have heard that; but, as
Claudius said to Hamlet, `it is a law of nature; their
fathers died before them, and they mourned their loss; they
will die before their children, who will, in their turn,
grieve for them.'"
"But that is not all."
"Not all!"
"No; they were going to marry their daughter" --
"To M. Franz d'Epinay. Is it broken off?"
"Yesterday morning, it appears, Franz declined the honor."
"Indeed? And is the reason known?"
"No."
"How extraordinary! And how does M. de Villefort bear it?"
"As usual. Like a philosopher." Danglars returned at this
moment alone. "Well," said the baroness, "do you leave M.
Cavalcanti with your daughter?"
"And Mademoiselle d'Armilly," said the banker; "do you
consider her no one?" Then, turning to Monte Cristo, he
said, "Prince Cavalcanti is a charming young man, is he not?
But is he really a prince?"
"I will not answer for it," said Monte Cristo. "His father
was introduced to me as a marquis, so he ought to be a
count; but I do not think he has much claim to that title."
"Why?" said the banker. "If he is a prince, he is wrong not
to maintain his rank; I do not like any one to deny his
origin."
"Oh, you are a thorough democrat," said Monte Cristo,
smiling.
"But do you see to what you are exposing yourself?" said the
baroness. "If, perchance, M. de Morcerf came, he would find
M. Cavalcanti in that room, where he, the betrothed of
Eugenie, has never been admitted."
"You may well say, perchance," replied the banker; "for he
comes so seldom, it would seem only chance that brings him."
"But should he come and find that young man with your
daughter, he might be displeased."
"He? You are mistaken. M. Albert would not do us the honor
to be jealous; he does not like Eugenie sufficiently.
Besides, I care not for his displeasure."
"Still, situated as we are" --
"Yes, do you know how we are situated? At his mother's ball
he danced once with Eugenie, and M. Cavalcanti three times,
and he took no notice of it." The valet announced the
Vicomte Albert de Morcerf. The baroness rose hastily, and
was going into the study, when Danglars stopped her. "Let
her alone," said he. She looked at him in amazement. Monte
Cristo appeared to be unconscious of what passed. Albert
entered, looking very handsome and in high spirits. He bowed
politely to the baroness, familiarly to Danglars, and
affectionately to Monte Cristo. Then turning to the
baroness: "May I ask how Mademoiselle Danglars is?" said he.
"She is quite well," replied Danglars quickly; "she is at
the piano with M. Cavalcanti." Albert retained his calm and
indifferent manner; he might feel perhaps annoyed, but he
knew Monte Cristo's eye was on him. "M. Cavalcanti has a
fine tenor voice," said he, "and Mademoiselle Eugenie a
splendid soprano, and then she plays the piano like
Thalberg. The concert must be a delightful one."
"They suit each other remarkably well," said Danglars.
Albert appeared not to notice this remark, which was,
however, so rude that Madame Danglars blushed.
"I, too," said the young man, "am a musician -- at least, my
masters used to tell me so; but it is strange that my voice
never would suit any other, and a soprano less than any."
Danglars smiled, and seemed to say, "It is of no
consequence." Then, hoping doubtless to effect his purpose,
he said, -- "The prince and my daughter were universally
admired yesterday. You were not of the party, M. de
Morcerf?"
"What prince?" asked Albert. "Prince Cavalcanti," said
Danglars, who persisted in giving the young man that title.
"Pardon me," said Albert, "I was not aware that he was a
prince. And Prince Cavalcanti sang with Mademoiselle Eugenie
yesterday? It must have been charming, indeed. I regret not
having heard them. But I was unable to accept your
invitation, having promised to accompany my mother to a
German concert given by the Baroness of Chateau-Renaud."
This was followed by rather an awkward silence. "May I also
be allowed," said Morcerf, "to pay my respects to
Mademoiselle Danglars?" "Wait a moment," said the banker,
stopping the young man; "do you hear that delightful
cavatina? Ta, ta, ta, ti, ta, ti, ta, ta; it is charming,
let them finish -- one moment. Bravo, bravi, brava!" The
banker was enthusiastic in his applause.
"Indeed," said Albert, "it is exquisite; it is impossible to
understand the music of his country better than Prince
Cavalcanti does. You said prince, did you not? But he can
easily become one, if he is not already; it is no uncommon
thing in Italy. But to return to the charming musicians --
you should give us a treat, Danglars, without telling them
there is a stranger. Ask them to sing one more song; it is
so delightful to hear music in the distance, when the
musicians are unrestrained by observation."
Danglars was quite annoyed by the young man's indifference.
He took Monte Cristo aside. "What do you think of our
lover?" said he.
"He appears cool. But, then your word is given."
"Yes, doubtless I have promised to give my daughter to a man
who loves her, but not to one who does not. See him there,
cold as marble and proud like his father. If he were rich,
if he had Cavalcanti's fortune, that might be pardoned. Ma
foi, I haven't consulted my daughter; but if she has good
taste" --
"Oh," said Monte Cristo, "my fondness may blind me, but I
assure you I consider Morcerf a charming young man who will
render your daughter happy and will sooner or later attain a
certain amount of distinction, and his father's position is
good."
"Hem," said Danglars.
"Why do you doubt?"
"The past -- that obscurity on the past."
"But that does not affect the son."
"Very true."
"Now, I beg of you, don't go off your head. It's a month now
that you have been thinking of this marriage, and you must
see that it throws some responsibility on me, for it was at
my house you met this young Cavalcanti, whom I do not really
know at all."
"But I do."
"Have you made inquiry?"
"Is there any need of that! Does not his appearance speak
for him? And he is very rich."
"I am not so sure of that."
"And yet you said he had money."
"Fifty thousand livres -- a mere trifle."
"He is well educated."
"Hem," said Monte Cristo in his turn.
"He is a musician."
"So are all Italians."
"Come, count, you do not do that young man justice."
"Well, I acknowledge it annoys me, knowing your connection
with the Morcerf family, to see him throw himself in the
way." Danglars burst out laughing. "What a Puritan you are!"
said he; "that happens every day."
"But you cannot break it off in this way; the Morcerfs are
depending on this union."
"Indeed."
"Positively."
"Then let them explain themselves; you should give the
father a hint, you are so intimate with the family."
"I? -- where the devil did you find out that?"
"At their ball; it was apparent enough. Why, did not the
countess, the proud Mercedes, the disdainful Catalane, who
will scarcely open her lips to her oldest acquaintances,
take your arm, lead you into the garden, into the private
walks, and remain there for half an hour?"
"Ah, baron, baron," said Albert, "you are not listening --
what barbarism in a melomaniac like you!"
"Oh, don't worry about me, Sir Mocker," said Danglars; then
turning to the count he said, "but will you undertake to
speak to the father?"
"Willingly, if you wish it."
"But let it be done explicitly and positively. If he demands
my daughter let him fix the day -- declare his conditions;
in short, let us either understand each other, or quarrel.
You understand -- no more delay."
"Yes. sir, I will give my attention to the subject."
"I do not say that I await with pleasure his decision, but I
do await it. A banker must, you know, be a slave to his
promise." And Danglars sighed as M. Cavalcanti had done half
an hour before. "Bravi, bravo, brava!" cried Morcerf,
parodying the banker, as the selection came to an end.
Danglars began to look suspiciously at Morcerf, when some
one came and whispered a few words to him. "I shall soon
return," said the banker to Monte Cristo; "wait for me. I
shall, perhaps, have something to say to you." And he went
out.
The baroness took advantage of her husband's absence to push
open the door of her daughter's study, and M. Andrea, who
was sitting before the piano with Mademoiselle Eugenie,
started up like a jack-in-the-box. Albert bowed with a smile
to Mademoiselle Danglars, who did not appear in the least
disturbed, and returned his bow with her usual coolness.
Cavalcanti was evidently embarrassed; he bowed to Morcerf,
who replied with the most impertinent look possible. Then
Albert launched out in praise of Mademoiselle Danglars'
voice, and on his regret, after what he had just heard, that
he had been unable to be present the previous evening.
Cavalcanti, being left alone, turned to Monte Cristo.
"Come," said Madame Danglars, "leave music and compliments,
and let us go and take tea."
"Come, Louise," said Mademoiselle Danglars to her friend.
They passed into the next drawing-room, where tea was
prepared. Just as they were beginning, in the English
fashion, to leave the spoons in their cups, the door again
opened and Danglars entered, visibly agitated. Monte Cristo
observed it particularly, and by a look asked the banker for
an explanation. "I have just received my courier from
Greece," said Danglars.
"Ah, yes," said the count; "that was the reason of your
running away from us."
"Yes."
"How is King Otho getting on?" asked Albert in the most
sprightly tone. Danglars cast another suspicious look
towards him without answering, and Monte Cristo turned away
to conceal the expression of pity which passed over his
features, but which was gone in a moment. "We shall go
together, shall we not?" said Albert to the count.
"If you like," replied the latter. Albert could not
understand the banker's look, and turning to Monte Cristo,
who understood it perfectly, -- "Did you see," said he, "how
he looked at me?"
"Yes," said the count; "but did you think there was anything
particular in his look?"
"Indeed, I did; and what does he mean by his news from
Greece?"
"How can I tell you?"
"Because I imagine you have correspondents in that country."
Monte Cristo smiled significantly.
"Stop," said Albert, "here he comes. I shall compliment
Mademoiselle Danglars on her cameo, while the father talks
to you."
"If you compliment her at all, let it be on her voice, at
least," said Monte Cristo.
"No, every one would do that."
"My dear viscount, you are dreadfully impertinent." Albert
advanced towards Eugenie, smiling. Meanwhile, Danglars,
stooping to Monte Cristo's ear, "Your advice was excellent,"
said he; "there is a whole history connected with the names
Fernand and Yanina."
"Indeed?" said Monte Cristo.
"Yes, I will tell you all; but take away the young man; I
cannot endure his presence."
"He is going with me. Shall I send the father to you?"
"Immediately."
"Very well." The count made a sign to Albert and they bowed
to the ladies, and took their leave, Albert perfectly
indifferent to Mademoiselle Danglars' contempt, Monte Cristo
reiterating his advice to Madame Danglars on the prudence a
banker's wife should exercise in providing for the future.
M. Cavalcanti remained master of the field. _