"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 megalomaniac 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.
Chapter 77. Haidee.
Scarcely had the count's horses cleared the angle of the boulevard,
than Albert, turning towards the count, burst into a loud fit of
laughter--much too loud in fact not to give the idea of its being rather
forced and unnatural. "Well," said he, "I will ask you the same question
which Charles IX. put to Catherine de Medicis, after the massacre of
Saint Bartholomew, 'How have I played my little part?'"
"To what do you allude?" asked Monte Cristo.
"To the installation of my rival at M. Danglars'."
"What rival?"
"Ma foi, what rival? Why, your protege, M. Andrea Cavalcanti!"
"Ah, no joking, viscount, if you please; I do not patronize M.
Andrea--at least, not as concerns M. Danglars."
"And you would be to blame for not assisting him, if the young man
really needed your help in that quarter, but, happily for me, he can
dispense with it."
"What, do you think he is paying his addresses?"
"I am certain of it; his languishing looks and modulated tones when
addressing Mademoiselle Danglars fully proclaim his intentions. He
aspires to the hand of the proud Eugenie."
"What does that signify, so long as they favor your suit?"
"But it is not the case, my dear count: on the contrary. I am repulsed
on all sides."
"What!"
"It is so indeed; Mademoiselle Eugenie scarcely answers me, and
Mademoiselle d'Armilly, her confidant, does not speak to me at all."
"But the father has the greatest regard possible for you," said Monte
Cristo.
"He? Oh, no, he has plunged a thousand daggers into my heart,
tragedy-weapons, I own, which instead of wounding sheathe their points
in their own handles, but daggers which he nevertheless believed to be
real and deadly."
"Jealousy indicates affection."
"True; but I am not jealous."
"He is."
"Of whom?--of Debray?"
"No, of you."
"Of me? I will engage to say that before a week is past the door will be
closed against me."
"You are mistaken, my dear viscount."
"Prove it to me."
"Do you wish me to do so?"
"Yes."
"Well, I am charged with the commission of endeavoring to induce the
Comte de Morcerf to make some definite arrangement with the baron."
"By whom are you charged?"
"By the baron himself."
"Oh," said Albert with all the cajolery of which he was capable. "You
surely will not do that, my dear count?"
"Certainly I shall, Albert, as I have promised to do it."
"Well," said Albert, with a sigh, "it seems you are determined to marry
me."
"I am determined to try and be on good terms with everybody, at all
events," said Monte Cristo. "But apropos of Debray, how is it that I
have not seen him lately at the baron's house?"
"There has been a misunderstanding."
"What, with the baroness?"
"No, with the baron."
"Has he perceived anything?"
"Ah, that is a good joke!"
"Do you think he suspects?" said Monte Cristo with charming artlessness.
"Where have you come from, my dear count?" said Albert.
"From Congo, if you will."
"It must be farther off than even that."
"But what do I know of your Parisian husbands?"
"Oh, my dear count, husbands are pretty much the same everywhere; an
individual husband of any country is a pretty fair specimen of the whole
race."
"But then, what can have led to the quarrel between Danglars and Debray?
They seemed to understand each other so well," said Monte Cristo with
renewed energy.
"Ah, now you are trying to penetrate into the mysteries of Isis, in
which I am not initiated. When M. Andrea Cavalcanti has become one of
the family, you can ask him that question." The carriage stopped. "Here
we are," said Monte Cristo; "it is only half-past ten o'clock, come in."
"Certainly I will."
"My carriage shall take you back."
"No, thank you; I gave orders for my coupe to follow me."
"There it is, then," said Monte Cristo, as he stepped out of the
carriage. They both went into the house; the drawing-room was lighted
up--they went in there. "You will make tea for us, Baptistin," said the
count. Baptistin left the room without waiting to answer, and in
two seconds reappeared, bringing on a waiter all that his master had
ordered, ready prepared, and appearing to have sprung from the ground,
like the repasts which we read of in fairy tales. "Really, my dear
count," said Morcerf, "what I admire in you is, not so much your riches,
for perhaps there are people even wealthier than yourself, nor is it
only your wit, for Beaumarchais might have possessed as much,--but it
is your manner of being served, without any questions, in a moment, in
a second; it is as if they guessed what you wanted by your manner of
ringing, and made a point of keeping everything you can possibly desire
in constant readiness."
"What you say is perhaps true; they know my habits. For instance, you
shall see; how do you wish to occupy yourself during tea-time?"
"Ma foi, I should like to smoke."
Monte Cristo took the gong and struck it once. In about the space of a
second a private door opened, and Ali appeared, bringing two chibouques
filled with excellent latakia. "It is quite wonderful," said Albert.
"Oh no, it is as simple as possible," replied Monte Cristo. "Ali knows I
generally smoke while I am taking my tea or coffee; he has heard that I
ordered tea, and he also knows that I brought you home with me; when I
summoned him he naturally guessed the reason of my doing so, and as he
comes from a country where hospitality is especially manifested through
the medium of smoking, he naturally concludes that we shall smoke in
company, and therefore brings two chibouques instead of one--and now the
mystery is solved."
"Certainly you give a most commonplace air to your explanation, but
it is not the less true that you--Ah, but what do I hear?" and Morcerf
inclined his head towards the door, through which sounds seemed to issue
resembling those of a guitar.
"Ma foi, my dear viscount, you are fated to hear music this evening; you
have only escaped from Mademoiselle Danglars' piano, to be attacked by
Haidee's guzla."
"Haidee--what an adorable name! Are there, then, really women who bear
the name of Haidee anywhere but in Byron's poems?"
"Certainly there are. Haidee is a very uncommon name in France, but is
common enough in Albania and Epirus; it is as if you said, for example,
Chastity, Modesty, Innocence,--it is a kind of baptismal name, as you
Parisians call it."
"Oh, that is charming," said Albert, "how I should like to hear my
countrywomen called Mademoiselle Goodness, Mademoiselle Silence,
Mademoiselle Christian Charity! Only think, then, if Mademoiselle
Danglars, instead of being called Claire-Marie-Eugenie, had been named
Mademoiselle Chastity-Modesty-Innocence Danglars; what a fine effect
that would have produced on the announcement of her marriage!"
"Hush," said the count, "do not joke in so loud a tone; Haidee may hear
you, perhaps."
"And you think she would be angry?"
"No, certainly not," said the count with a haughty expression.
"She is very amiable, then, is she not?" said Albert.
"It is not to be called amiability, it is her duty; a slave does not
dictate to a master."
"Come; you are joking yourself now. Are there any more slaves to be had
who bear this beautiful name?"
"Undoubtedly."
"Really, count, you do nothing, and have nothing like other people.
The slave of the Count of Monte Cristo! Why, it is a rank of itself in
France, and from the way in which you lavish money, it is a place that
must be worth a hundred thousand francs a year."
"A hundred thousand francs! The poor girl originally possessed much
more than that; she was born to treasures in comparison with which those
recorded in the 'Thousand and One Nights' would seem but poverty."
"She must be a princess then."
"You are right; and she is one of the greatest in her country too."
"I thought so. But how did it happen that such a great princess became a
slave?"
"How was it that Dionysius the Tyrant became a schoolmaster? The fortune
of war, my dear viscount,--the caprice of fortune; that is the way in
which these things are to be accounted for."
"And is her name a secret?"
"As regards the generality of mankind it is; but not for you, my dear
viscount, who are one of my most intimate friends, and on whose silence
I feel I may rely, if I consider it necessary to enjoin it--may I not do
so?"
