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?"
