"And what did the letter contain?"
"Read it."
"'You are poor, and your future prospects are dark and gloomy. Do you
wish for a name? should you like to be rich, and your own master?'"
"Ma foi," said the young man; "was it possible there could be two
answers to such a question?"
"Take the post-chaise which you will find waiting at the Porte de Genes,
as you enter Nice; pass through Turin, Chambery, and Pont-de-Beauvoisin.
Go to the Count of Monte Cristo, Avenue des Champs Elysees, on the 26th
of May, at seven o'clock in the evening, and demand of him your father.
You are the son of the Marchese Cavalcanti and the Marchesa Oliva
Corsinari. The marquis will give you some papers which will certify this
fact, and authorize you to appear under that name in the Parisian world.
As to your rank, an annual income of 50,000 livres will enable you to
support it admirably. I enclose a draft for 5,000 livres, payable on M.
Ferrea, banker at Nice, and also a letter of introduction to the Count
of Monte Cristo, whom I have directed to supply all your wants.
"Sinbad the Sailor."
"Humph," said the major; "very good. You have seen the count, you say?"
"I have only just left him."
"And has he conformed to all that the letter specified?"
"He has."
"Do you understand it?"
"Not in the least."
"There is a dupe somewhere."
"At all events, it is neither you nor I."
"Certainly not."
"Well, then"--
"Why, it does not much concern us, do you think it does?"
"No; I agree with you there. We must play the game to the end, and
consent to be blindfolded."
"Ah, you shall see; I promise you I will sustain my part to admiration."
"I never once doubted your doing so." Monte Cristo chose this moment for
re-entering the drawing-room. On hearing the sound of his footsteps, the
two men threw themselves in each other's arms, and while they were in
the midst of this embrace, the count entered. "Well, marquis," said
Monte Cristo, "you appear to be in no way disappointed in the son whom
your good fortune has restored to you."
"Ah, your excellency, I am overwhelmed with delight."
"And what are your feelings?" said Monte Cristo, turning to the young
man.
"As for me, my heart is overflowing with happiness."
"Happy father, happy son!" said the count.
"There is only one thing which grieves me," observed the major, "and
that is the necessity for my leaving Paris so soon."
"Ah, my dear M. Cavalcanti, I trust you will not leave before I have had
the honor of presenting you to some of my friends."
"I am at your service, sir," replied the major.
"Now, sir," said Monte Cristo, addressing Andrea, "make your
confession."
"To whom?"
"Tell M. Cavalcanti something of the state of your finances."
"Ma foi, monsieur, you have touched upon a tender chord."
"Do you hear what he says, major?"
"Certainly I do."
"But do you understand?"
"I do."
"Your son says he requires money."
"Well, what would you have me do?" said the major.
"You should furnish him with some of course," replied Monte Cristo.
"I?"
"Yes, you," said the count, at the same time advancing towards Andrea,
and slipping a packet of bank-notes into the young man's hand.
"What is this?"
"It is from your father."
"From my father?"
"Yes; did you not tell him just now that you wanted money? Well, then,
he deputes me to give you this."
"Am I to consider this as part of my income on account?"
"No, it is for the first expenses of your settling in Paris."
"Ah, how good my dear father is!"
"Silence," said Monte Cristo; "he does not wish you to know that it
comes from him."
"I fully appreciate his delicacy," said Andrea, cramming the notes
hastily into his pocket.
"And now, gentlemen, I wish you good-morning," said Monte Cristo.
"And when shall we have the honor of seeing you again, your excellency?"
asked Cavalcanti.
"Ah," said Andrea, "when may we hope for that pleasure?"
"On Saturday, if you will--Yes.--Let me see--Saturday--I am to dine at
my country house, at Auteuil, on that day, Rue de la Fontaine, No. 28.
Several persons are invited, and among others, M. Danglars, your banker.
I will introduce you to him, for it will be necessary he should know
you, as he is to pay your money."
"Full dress?" said the major, half aloud.
"Oh, yes, certainly," said the count; "uniform, cross, knee-breeches."
"And how shall I be dressed?" demanded Andrea.
"Oh, very simply; black trousers, patent leather boots, white waistcoat,
either a black or blue coat, and a long cravat. Go to Blin or Veronique
for your clothes. Baptistin will tell you where, if you do not know
their address. The less pretension there is in your attire, the better
will be the effect, as you are a rich man. If you mean to buy any
horses, get them of Devedeux, and if you purchase a phaeton, go to
Baptiste for it."
"At what hour shall we come?" asked the young man.
"About half-past six."
"We will be with you at that time," said the major. The two Cavalcanti
bowed to the count, and left the house. Monte Cristo went to the window,
and saw them crossing the street, arm in arm. "There go two miscreants;"
said he, "it is a pity they are not really related!"--then, after an
instant of gloomy reflection, "Come, I will go to see the Morrels," said
he; "I think that disgust is even more sickening than hatred."
Chapter 57. In the Lucerne Patch.
Our readers must now allow us to transport them again to the enclosure
surrounding M. de Villefort's house, and, behind the gate, half screened
from view by the large chestnut-trees, which on all sides spread their
luxuriant branches, we shall find some people of our acquaintance. This
time Maximilian was the first to arrive. He was intently watching for a
shadow to appear among the trees, and awaiting with anxiety the sound of
a light step on the gravel walk. At length, the long-desired sound was
heard, and instead of one figure, as he had expected, he perceived that
two were approaching him. The delay had been occasioned by a visit from
Madame Danglars and Eugenie, which had been prolonged beyond the time at
which Valentine was expected. That she might not appear to fail in her
promise to Maximilian, she proposed to Mademoiselle Danglars that they
should take a walk in the garden, being anxious to show that the delay,
which was doubtless a cause of vexation to him, was not occasioned by
any neglect on her part. The young man, with the intuitive perception
of a lover, quickly understood the circumstances in which she was
involuntarily placed, and he was comforted. Besides, although she
avoided coming within speaking distance, Valentine arranged so that
Maximilian could see her pass and repass, and each time she went by, she
managed, unperceived by her companion, to cast an expressive look at
the young man, which seemed to say, "Have patience! You see it is not
my fault." And Maximilian was patient, and employed himself in mentally
contrasting the two girls,--one fair, with soft languishing eyes, a
figure gracefully bending like a weeping willow; the other a brunette,
with a fierce and haughty expression, and as straight as a poplar. It is
unnecessary to state that, in the eyes of the young man, Valentine did
not suffer by the contrast. In about half an hour the girls went away,
and Maximilian understood that Mademoiselle Danglars' visit had at last
come to an end. In a few minutes Valentine re-entered the garden alone.
For fear that any one should be observing her return, she walked slowly;
and instead of immediately directing her steps towards the gate, she
seated herself on a bench, and, carefully casting her eyes around, to
convince herself that she was not watched, she presently arose, and
proceeded quickly to join Maximilian.
"Good-evening, Valentine," said a well-known voice.
"Good-evening, Maximilian; I know I have kept you waiting, but you saw
the cause of my delay."
"Yes, I recognized Mademoiselle Danglars. I was not aware that you were
so intimate with her."
"Who told you we were intimate, Maximilian?"
"No one, but you appeared to be so. From the manner in which you walked
and talked together, one would have thought you were two school-girls
telling your secrets to each other."
"We were having a confidential conversation," returned Valentine; "she
was owning to me her repugnance to the marriage with M. de Morcerf; and
I, on the other hand, was confessing to her how wretched it made me to
think of marrying M. d'Epinay."
"Dear Valentine!"
"That will account to you for the unreserved manner which you observed
between me and Eugenie, as in speaking of the man whom I could not love,
my thoughts involuntarily reverted to him on whom my affections were
fixed."
"Ah, how good you are to say so, Valentine! You possess a quality which
can never belong to Mademoiselle Danglars. It is that indefinable charm
which is to a woman what perfume is to the flower and flavor to the
fruit, for the beauty of either is not the only quality we seek."
"It is your love which makes you look upon everything in that light."
"No, Valentine, I assure you such is not the case. I was observing you
both when you were walking in the garden, and, on my honor, without at
all wishing to depreciate the beauty of Mademoiselle Danglars, I cannot
understand how any man can really love her."
"The fact is, Maximilian, that I was there, and my presence had the
effect of rendering you unjust in your comparison."
"No; but tell me--it is a question of simple curiosity, and which was
suggested by certain ideas passing in my mind relative to Mademoiselle
Danglars"--
"I dare say it is something disparaging which you are going to say.
It only proves how little indulgence we may expect from your sex,"
interrupted Valentine.
"You cannot, at least, deny that you are very harsh judges of each
other."
"If we are so, it is because we generally judge under the influence of
excitement. But return to your question."
"Does Mademoiselle Danglars object to this marriage with M. de Morcerf
on account of loving another?"
"I told you I was not on terms of strict intimacy with Eugenie."
"Yes, but girls tell each other secrets without being particularly
intimate; own, now, that you did question her on the subject. Ah, I see
you are smiling."
"If you are already aware of the conversation that passed, the wooden
partition which interposed between us and you has proved but a slight
security."
"Come, what did she say?"
"She told me that she loved no one," said Valentine; "that she disliked
the idea of being married; that she would infinitely prefer leading an
independent and unfettered life; and that she almost wished her father
might lose his fortune, that she might become an artist, like her
friend, Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly."
"Ah, you see"--
"Well, what does that prove?" asked Valentine.
"Nothing," replied Maximilian.
"Then why did you smile?"
"Why, you know very well that you are reflecting on yourself,
Valentine."
"Do you want me to go away?"
"Ah, no, no. But do not let us lose time; you are the subject on which I
wish to speak."
"True, we must be quick, for we have scarcely ten minutes more to pass
together."
"Ma foi," said Maximilian, in consternation.
"Yes, you are right; I am but a poor friend to you. What a life I
cause you to lead, poor Maximilian, you who are formed for happiness! I
bitterly reproach myself, I assure you."
"Well, what does it signify, Valentine, so long as I am satisfied, and
feel that even this long and painful suspense is amply repaid by five
minutes of your society, or two words from your lips? And I have also
a deep conviction that heaven would not have created two hearts,
harmonizing as ours do, and almost miraculously brought us together, to
separate us at last."
"Those are kind and cheering words. You must hope for us both,
Maximilian; that will make me at least partly happy."
"But why must you leave me so soon?"
"I do not know particulars. I can only tell you that Madame de Villefort
sent to request my presence, as she had a communication to make on which
a part of my fortune depended. Let them take my fortune, I am already
too rich; and, perhaps, when they have taken it, they will leave me in
peace and quietness. You would love me as much if I were poor, would you
not, Maximilian?"
"Oh, I shall always love you. What should I care for either riches or
poverty, if my Valentine was near me, and I felt certain that no one
could deprive me of her? But do you not fear that this communication may
relate to your marriage?"
"I do not think that is the case."
"However it may be, Valentine, you must not be alarmed. I assure you
that, as long as I live, I shall never love any one else!"
"You think to reassure me when you say that, Maximilian."
"Pardon me, you are right. I am a brute. But I was going to tell you
that I met M. de Morcerf the other day."
"Well?"
"Monsieur Franz is his friend, you know."
