heaven.
"Yes, indeed, sir," continued Eugenie, still quite calm; "you are
astonished, I see; for since this little affair began, I have not
manifested the slightest opposition, and yet I am always sure, when the
opportunity arrives, to oppose a determined and absolute will to people
who have not consulted me, and things which displease me. However, this
time, my tranquillity, or passiveness as philosophers say, proceeded
from another source; it proceeded from a wish, like a submissive and
devoted daughter" (a slight smile was observable on the purple lips of
the young girl), "to practice obedience."
"Well?" asked Danglars.
"Well, sir," replied Eugenie, "I have tried to the very last and now
that the moment has come, I feel in spite of all my efforts that it is
impossible."
"But," said Danglars, whose weak mind was at first quite overwhelmed
with the weight of this pitiless logic, marking evident premeditation
and force of will, "what is your reason for this refusal, Eugenie? what
reason do you assign?"
"My reason?" replied the young girl. "Well, it is not that the man is
more ugly, more foolish, or more disagreeable than any other; no,
M. Andrea Cavalcanti may appear to those who look at men's faces and
figures as a very good specimen of his kind. It is not, either, that
my heart is less touched by him than any other; that would be a
schoolgirl's reason, which I consider quite beneath me. I actually love
no one, sir; you know it, do you not? I do not then see why, without
real necessity, I should encumber my life with a perpetual companion.
Has not some sage said, 'Nothing too much'? and another, 'I carry all my
effects with me'? I have been taught these two aphorisms in Latin and in
Greek; one is, I believe, from Phaedrus, and the other from Bias.
Well, my dear father, in the shipwreck of life--for life is an eternal
shipwreck of our hopes--I cast into the sea my useless encumbrance, that
is all, and I remain with my own will, disposed to live perfectly alone,
and consequently perfectly free."
"Unhappy girl, unhappy girl!" murmured Danglars, turning pale, for
he knew from long experience the solidity of the obstacle he had so
suddenly encountered.
"Unhappy girl," replied Eugenie, "unhappy girl, do you say, sir? No,
indeed; the exclamation appears quite theatrical and affected. Happy, on
the contrary, for what am I in want of! The world calls me beautiful.
It is something to be well received. I like a favorable reception; it
expands the countenance, and those around me do not then appear so ugly.
I possess a share of wit, and a certain relative sensibility, which
enables me to draw from life in general, for the support of mine, all I
meet with that is good, like the monkey who cracks the nut to get at its
contents. I am rich, for you have one of the first fortunes in France. I
am your only daughter, and you are not so exacting as the fathers of the
Porte Saint-Martin and Gaiete, who disinherit their daughters for not
giving them grandchildren. Besides, the provident law has deprived you
of the power to disinherit me, at least entirely, as it has also of
the power to compel me to marry Monsieur This or Monsieur That. And
so--being, beautiful, witty, somewhat talented, as the comic operas say,
and rich--and that is happiness, sir--why do you call me unhappy?"
Danglars, seeing his daughter smiling, and proud even to insolence,
could not entirely repress his brutal feelings, but they betrayed
themselves only by an exclamation. Under the fixed and inquiring gaze
levelled at him from under those beautiful black eyebrows, he prudently
turned away, and calmed himself immediately, daunted by the power of a
resolute mind. "Truly, my daughter," replied he with a smile, "you are
all you boast of being, excepting one thing; I will not too hastily tell
you which, but would rather leave you to guess it." Eugenie looked at
Danglars, much surprised that one flower of her crown of pride, with
which she had so superbly decked herself, should be disputed. "My
daughter," continued the banker, "you have perfectly explained to me the
sentiments which influence a girl like you, who is determined she will
not marry; now it remains for me to tell you the motives of a father
like me, who has decided that his daughter shall marry." Eugenie
bowed, not as a submissive daughter, but as an adversary prepared for a
discussion.
"My daughter," continued Danglars, "when a father asks his daughter to
choose a husband, he has always some reason for wishing her to marry.
Some are affected with the mania of which you spoke just now, that of
living again in their grandchildren. This is not my weakness, I tell you
at once; family joys have no charm for me. I may acknowledge this to
a daughter whom I know to be philosophical enough to understand my
indifference, and not to impute it to me as a crime."
"This is not to the purpose," said Eugenie; "let us speak candidly, sir;
I admire candor."
"Oh," said Danglars, "I can, when circumstances render it desirable,
adopt your system, although it may not be my general practice. I will
therefore proceed. I have proposed to you to marry, not for your sake,
for indeed I did not think of you in the least at the moment (you admire
candor, and will now be satisfied, I hope); but because it suited me
to marry you as soon as possible, on account of certain commercial
speculations I am desirous of entering into." Eugenie became uneasy.
"It is just as I tell you, I assure you, and you must not be angry with
me, for you have sought this disclosure. I do not willingly enter into
arithmetical explanations with an artist like you, who fears to enter my
study lest she should imbibe disagreeable or anti-poetic impressions and
sensations. But in that same banker's study, where you very willingly
presented yourself yesterday to ask for the thousand francs I give you
monthly for pocket-money, you must know, my dear young lady, that many
things may be learned, useful even to a girl who will not marry.
There one may learn, for instance, what, out of regard to your nervous
susceptibility, I will inform you of in the drawing-room, namely, that
the credit of a banker is his physical and moral life; that credit
sustains him as breath animates the body; and M. de Monte Cristo once
gave me a lecture on that subject, which I have never forgotten. There
we may learn that as credit sinks, the body becomes a corpse, and this
is what must happen very soon to the banker who is proud to own so good
a logician as you for his daughter." But Eugenie, instead of stooping,
drew herself up under the blow. "Ruined?" said she.
"Exactly, my daughter; that is precisely what I mean," said Danglars,
almost digging his nails into his breast, while he preserved on
his harsh features the smile of the heartless though clever man;
"ruined--yes, that is it."
"Ah!" said Eugenie.
"Yes, ruined! Now it is revealed, this secret so full of horror, as
the tragic poet says. Now, my daughter, learn from my lips how you may
alleviate this misfortune, so far as it will affect you."
"Oh," cried Eugenie, "you are a bad physiognomist, if you imagine
I deplore on my own account the catastrophe of which you warn me. I
ruined? and what will that signify to me? Have I not my talent left? Can
I not, like Pasta, Malibran, Grisi, acquire for myself what you would
never have given me, whatever might have been your fortune, a hundred
or a hundred and fifty thousand livres per annum, for which I shall be
indebted to no one but myself; and which, instead of being given as
you gave me those poor twelve thousand francs, with sour looks and
reproaches for my prodigality, will be accompanied with acclamations,
with bravos, and with flowers? And if I do not possess that talent,
which your smiles prove to me you doubt, should I not still have that
ardent love of independence, which will be a substitute for wealth, and
which in my mind supersedes even the instinct of self-preservation?
No, I grieve not on my own account, I shall always find a resource; my
books, my pencils, my piano, all the things which cost but little, and
which I shall be able to procure, will remain my own.
"Do you think that I sorrow for Madame Danglars? Undeceive yourself
again; either I am greatly mistaken, or she has provided against the
catastrophe which threatens you, and, which will pass over without
affecting her. She has taken care for herself,--at least I hope so,--for
her attention has not been diverted from her projects by watching over
me. She has fostered my independence by professedly indulging my love
for liberty. Oh, no, sir; from my childhood I have seen too much, and
understood too much, of what has passed around me, for misfortune to
have an undue power over me. From my earliest recollections, I have been
beloved by no one--so much the worse; that has naturally led me to love
no one--so much the better--now you have my profession of faith."
"Then," said Danglars, pale with anger, which was not at all due to
offended paternal love,--"then, mademoiselle, you persist in your
determination to accelerate my ruin?"
"Your ruin? I accelerate your ruin? What do you mean? I do not
understand you."
"So much the better, I have a ray of hope left; listen."
"I am all attention," said Eugenie, looking so earnestly at her father
that it was an effort for the latter to endure her unrelenting gaze.
"M. Cavalcanti," continued Danglars, "is about to marry you, and will
place in my hands his fortune, amounting to three million livres."
"That is admirable!" said Eugenie with sovereign contempt, smoothing her
gloves out one upon the other.
"You think I shall deprive you of those three millions," said Danglars;
"but do not fear it. They are destined to produce at least ten. I and a
brother banker have obtained a grant of a railway, the only industrial
enterprise which in these days promises to make good the fabulous
prospects that Law once held out to the eternally deluded Parisians, in
the fantastic Mississippi scheme. As I look at it, a millionth part of a
railway is worth fully as much as an acre of waste land on the banks
of the Ohio. We make in our case a deposit, on a mortgage, which is an
advance, as you see, since we gain at least ten, fifteen, twenty, or a
hundred livres' worth of iron in exchange for our money. Well, within
a week I am to deposit four millions for my share; the four millions, I
promise you, will produce ten or twelve."
"But during my visit to you the day before yesterday, sir, which you
appear to recollect so well," replied Eugenie, "I saw you arranging a
deposit--is not that the term?--of five millions and a half; you
even pointed it out to me in two drafts on the treasury, and you
were astonished that so valuable a paper did not dazzle my eyes like
lightning."
"Yes, but those five millions and a half are not mine, and are only a
proof of the great confidence placed in me; my title of popular banker
has gained me the confidence of charitable institutions, and the five
millions and a half belong to them; at any other time I should not have
hesitated to make use of them, but the great losses I have recently
sustained are well known, and, as I told you, my credit is rather
shaken. That deposit may be at any moment withdrawn, and if I had
employed it for another purpose, I should bring on me a disgraceful
bankruptcy. I do not despise bankruptcies, believe me, but they must
be those which enrich, not those which ruin. Now, if you marry M.
Cavalcanti, and I get the three millions, or even if it is thought I am
going to get them, my credit will be restored, and my fortune, which
for the last month or two has been swallowed up in gulfs which have
been opened in my path by an inconceivable fatality, will revive. Do you
understand me?"
"Perfectly; you pledge me for three millions, do you not?"
"The greater the amount, the more flattering it is to you; it gives you
an idea of your value."
"Thank you. One word more, sir; do you promise me to make what use
you can of the report of the fortune M. Cavalcanti will bring without
touching the money? This is no act of selfishness, but of delicacy. I am
willing to help rebuild your fortune, but I will not be an accomplice in
the ruin of others."
"But since I tell you," cried Danglars, "that with these three
million"--
"Do you expect to recover your position, sir, without touching those
three million?"
"I hope so, if the marriage should take place and confirm my credit."
"Shall you be able to pay M. Cavalcanti the five hundred thousand francs
you promise for my dowry?"
"He shall receive them on returning from the mayor's." [*]
* The performance of the civil marriage.
"Very well!"
"What next? what more do you want?"
"I wish to know if, in demanding my signature, you leave me entirely
free in my person?"
"Absolutely."
"Then, as I said before, sir,--very well; I am ready to marry M.
Cavalcanti."
"But what are you up to?"
"Ah, that is my affair. What advantage should I have over you, if
knowing your secret I were to tell you mine?" Danglars bit his lips.
"Then," said he, "you are ready to pay the official visits, which are
absolutely indispensable?"
"Yes," replied Eugenie.
"And to sign the contract in three days?"
"Yes."
"Then, in my turn, I also say, very well!" Danglars pressed his
daughter's hand in his. But, extraordinary to relate, the father did not
