mother, has not, I think, visited Madame Danglars twice in her whole
life."
"Then," said the count, "I am emboldened to speak openly to you.
M. Danglars is my banker; M. de Villefort has overwhelmed me with
politeness in return for a service which a casual piece of good fortune
enabled me to render him. I predict from all this an avalanche of
dinners and routs. Now, in order not to presume on this, and also to be
beforehand with them, I have, if agreeable to you, thought of
inviting M. and Madame Danglars, and M. and Madame de Villefort, to
my country-house at Auteuil. If I were to invite you and the Count and
Countess of Morcerf to this dinner, I should give it the appearance of
being a matrimonial meeting, or at least Madame de Morcerf would look
upon the affair in that light, especially if Baron Danglars did me the
honor to bring his daughter. In that case your mother would hold me in
aversion, and I do not at all wish that; on the contrary, I desire to
stand high in her esteem."
"Indeed, count," said Morcerf, "I thank you sincerely for having used so
much candor towards me, and I gratefully accept the exclusion which you
propose. You say you desire my mother's good opinion; I assure you it is
already yours to a very unusual extent."
"Do you think so?" said Monte Cristo, with interest.
"Oh, I am sure of it; we talked of you an hour after you left us the
other day. But to return to what we were saying. If my mother could know
of this attention on your part--and I will venture to tell her--I am
sure that she will be most grateful to you; it is true that my father
will be equally angry." The count laughed. "Well," said he to Morcerf,
"but I think your father will not be the only angry one; M. and Madame
Danglars will think me a very ill-mannered person. They know that I
am intimate with you--that you are, in fact; one of the oldest of my
Parisian acquaintances--and they will not find you at my house; they
will certainly ask me why I did not invite you. Be sure to provide
yourself with some previous engagement which shall have a semblance of
probability, and communicate the fact to me by a line in writing. You
know that with bankers nothing but a written document will be valid."
"I will do better than that," said Albert; "my mother is wishing to go
to the sea-side--what day is fixed for your dinner?"
"Saturday."
"This is Tuesday--well, to-morrow evening we leave, and the day after we
shall be at Treport. Really, count, you have a delightful way of setting
people at their ease."
"Indeed, you give me more credit than I deserve; I only wish to do what
will be agreeable to you, that is all."
"When shall you send your invitations?"
"This very day."
"Well, I will immediately call on M. Danglars, and tell him that my
mother and myself must leave Paris to-morrow. I have not seen you,
consequently I know nothing of your dinner."
"How foolish you are! Have you forgotten that M. Debray has just seen
you at my house?"
"Ah, true."
"Fix it this way. I have seen you, and invited you without any ceremony,
when you instantly answered that it would be impossible for you to
accept, as you were going to Treport."
"Well, then, that is settled; but you will come and call on my mother
before to-morrow?"
"Before to-morrow?--that will be a difficult matter to arrange, besides,
I shall just be in the way of all the preparations for departure."
"Well, you can do better. You were only a charming man before, but, if
you accede to my proposal, you will be adorable."
"What must I do to attain such sublimity?"
"You are to-day free as air--come and dine with me; we shall be a
small party--only yourself, my mother, and I. You have scarcely seen my
mother; you shall have an opportunity of observing her more closely.
She is a remarkable woman, and I only regret that there does not exist
another like her, about twenty years younger; in that case, I assure
you, there would very soon be a Countess and Viscountess of Morcerf. As
to my father, you will not see him; he is officially engaged, and dines
with the chief referendary. We will talk over our travels; and you, who
have seen the whole world, will relate your adventures--you shall tell
us the history of the beautiful Greek who was with you the other
night at the Opera, and whom you call your slave, and yet treat like a
princess. We will talk Italian and Spanish. Come, accept my invitation,
and my mother will thank you."
"A thousand thanks," said the count, "your invitation is most gracious,
and I regret exceedingly that it is not in my power to accept it. I am
not so much at liberty as you suppose; on the contrary, I have a most
important engagement."
"Ah, take care, you were teaching me just now how, in case of an
invitation to dinner, one might creditably make an excuse. I require the
proof of a pre-engagement. I am not a banker, like M. Danglars, but I am
quite as incredulous as he is."
"I am going to give you a proof," replied the count, and he rang the
bell.
"Humph," said Morcerf, "this is the second time you have refused to dine
with my mother; it is evident that you wish to avoid her." Monte Cristo
started. "Oh, you do not mean that," said he; "besides, here comes the
confirmation of my assertion." Baptistin entered, and remained standing
at the door. "I had no previous knowledge of your visit, had I?"
"Indeed, you are such an extraordinary person, that I would not answer
for it."
"At all events, I could not guess that you would invite me to dinner."
"Probably not."
"Well, listen, Baptistin, what did I tell you this morning when I called
you into my laboratory?"
"To close the door against visitors as soon as the clock struck five,"
replied the valet.
"What then?"
"Ah, my dear count," said Albert.
"No, no, I wish to do away with that mysterious reputation that you have
given me, my dear viscount; it is tiresome to be always acting Manfred.
I wish my life to be free and open. Go on, Baptistin."
"Then to admit no one except Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti and his son."
"You hear--Major Bartolomeo Cavalcanti--a man who ranks amongst the most
ancient nobility of Italy, whose name Dante has celebrated in the tenth
canto of 'The Inferno,' you remember it, do you not? Then there is his
son, Andrea, a charming young man, about your own age, viscount,
bearing the same title as yourself, and who is making his entry into the
Parisian world, aided by his father's millions. The major will bring his
son with him this evening, the contino, as we say in Italy; he confides
him to my care. If he proves himself worthy of it, I will do what I can
to advance his interests. You will assist me in the work, will you not?"
"Most undoubtedly. This Major Cavalcanti is an old friend of yours,
then?"
"By no means. He is a perfect nobleman, very polite, modest, and
agreeable, such as may be found constantly in Italy, descendants of very
ancient families. I have met him several times at Florence, Bologna
and Lucca, and he has now communicated to me the fact of his arrival in
Paris. The acquaintances one makes in travelling have a sort of claim on
one; they everywhere expect to receive the same attention which you once
paid them by chance, as though the civilities of a passing hour were
likely to awaken any lasting interest in favor of the man in whose
society you may happen to be thrown in the course of your journey. This
good Major Cavalcanti is come to take a second view of Paris, which he
only saw in passing through in the time of the Empire, when he was on
his way to Moscow. I shall give him a good dinner, he will confide his
son to my care, I will promise to watch over him, I shall let him follow
in whatever path his folly may lead him, and then I shall have done my
part."
"Certainly; I see you are a model Mentor," said Albert "Good-by, we
shall return on Sunday. By the way, I have received news of Franz."
"Have you? Is he still amusing himself in Italy?"
"I believe so; however, he regrets your absence extremely. He says you
were the sun of Rome, and that without you all appears dark and cloudy;
I do not know if he does not even go so far as to say that it rains."
"His opinion of me is altered for the better, then?"
"No, he still persists in looking upon you as the most incomprehensible
and mysterious of beings."
"He is a charming young man," said Monte Cristo "and I felt a lively
interest in him the very first evening of my introduction, when I met
him in search of a supper, and prevailed upon him to accept a portion of
mine. He is, I think, the son of General d'Epinay?"
"He is."
"The same who was so shamefully assassinated in 1815?"
"By the Bonapartists."
"Yes. Really I like him extremely; is there not also a matrimonial
engagement contemplated for him?"
"Yes, he is to marry Mademoiselle de Villefort."
"Indeed?"
"And you know I am to marry Mademoiselle Danglars," said Albert,
laughing.
"You smile."
"Yes."
"Why do you do so?"
"I smile because there appears to me to be about as much inclination for
the consummation of the engagement in question as there is for my own.
But really, my dear count, we are talking as much of women as they do of
us; it is unpardonable." Albert rose.
"Are you going?"
"Really, that is a good idea!--two hours have I been boring you to death
with my company, and then you, with the greatest politeness, ask me if I
am going. Indeed, count, you are the most polished man in the world.
And your servants, too, how very well behaved they are; there is quite a
style about them. Monsieur Baptistin especially; I could never get such
a man as that. My servants seem to imitate those you sometimes see in a
play, who, because they have only a word or two to say, aquit themselves
in the most awkward manner possible. Therefore, if you part with M.
Baptistin, give me the refusal of him."
"By all means."
"That is not all; give my compliments to your illustrious Luccanese,
Cavalcante of the Cavalcanti; and if by any chance he should be wishing
to establish his son, find him a wife very rich, very noble on her
mother's side at least, and a baroness in right of her father, I will
help you in the search."
"Ah, ha; you will do as much as that, will you?"
"Yes."
"Well, really, nothing is certain in this world."
"Oh, count, what a service you might render me! I should like you a
hundred times better if, by your intervention, I could manage to remain
a bachelor, even were it only for ten years."
"Nothing is impossible," gravely replied Monte Cristo; and taking leave
of Albert, he returned into the house, and struck the gong three times.
Bertuccio appeared. "Monsieur Bertuccio, you understand that I intend
entertaining company on Saturday at Auteuil." Bertuccio slightly
started. "I shall require your services to see that all be properly
arranged. It is a beautiful house, or at all events may be made so."
"There must be a good deal done before it can deserve that title, your
excellency, for the tapestried hangings are very old."
"Let them all be taken away and changed, then, with the exception of
the sleeping-chamber which is hung with red damask; you will leave
that exactly as it is." Bertuccio bowed. "You will not touch the garden
either; as to the yard, you may do what you please with it; I should
prefer that being altered beyond all recognition."
"I will do everything in my power to carry out your wishes, your
excellency. I should be glad, however, to receive your excellency's
commands concerning the dinner."
"Really, my dear M. Bertuccio," said the count, "since you have been
in Paris, you have become quite nervous, and apparently out of your
element; you no longer seem to understand me."
"But surely your excellency will be so good as to inform me whom you are
expecting to receive?"
"I do not yet know myself, neither is it necessary that you should do
so. 'Lucullus dines with Lucullus,' that is quite sufficient." Bertuccio
bowed, and left the room.
Chapter 55. Major Cavalcanti.
Both the count and Baptistin had told the truth when they announced to
Morcerf the proposed visit of the major, which had served Monte Cristo
as a pretext for declining Albert's invitation. Seven o'clock had just
struck, and M. Bertuccio, according to the command which had been given
him, had two hours before left for Auteuil, when a cab stopped at the
door, and after depositing its occupant at the gate, immediately hurried
away, as if ashamed of its employment. The visitor was about fifty-two
years of age, dressed in one of the green surtouts, ornamented with
black frogs, which have so long maintained their popularity all over
Europe. He wore trousers of blue cloth, boots tolerably clean, but not
of the brightest polish, and a little too thick in the soles, buckskin
gloves, a hat somewhat resembling in shape those usually worn by
the gendarmes, and a black cravat striped with white, which, if the
proprietor had not worn it of his own free will, might have passed for a
halter, so much did it resemble one. Such was the picturesque costume of
the person who rang at the gate, and demanded if it was not at No. 30 in
the Avenue des Champs-Elysees that the Count of Monte Cristo lived, and
who, being answered by the porter in the affirmative, entered, closed
