Chapter 76. Progress of Cavalcanti the Younger
Meanwhile M. Cavalcanti the elder had returned to his service, not inthe army of his majesty the Emperor of Austria, but at the gaming-tableof the baths of Lucca, of which he was one of the most assiduouscourtiers. He had spent every farthing that had been allowed for hisjourney as a reward for the majestic and solemn manner in which he hadmaintained his assumed character of father.
M. Andrea at his departure inherited all the papers which proved that hehad indeed the honor of being the son of the Marquis Bartolomeo and theMarchioness Oliva Corsinari. He was now fairly launched in that Parisiansociety which gives such ready access to foreigners, and treats them,not as they really are, but as they wish to be considered. Besides, whatis required of a young man in Paris? To speak its language tolerably, tomake a good appearance, to be a good gamester, and to pay in cash. Theyare certainly less particular with a foreigner than with a Frenchman.Andrea had, then, in a fortnight, attained a very fair position. He wascalled count, he was said to possess 50,000 livres per annum; and hisfather’s immense riches, buried in the quarries of Saravezza, were aconstant theme. A learned man, before whom the last circumstance wasmentioned as a fact, declared he had seen the quarries in question,which gave great weight to assertions hitherto somewhat doubtful, butwhich now assumed the garb of reality.
Such was the state of society in Paris at the period we bring before ourreaders, when Monte Cristo went one evening to pay M. Danglars a visit.M. Danglars was out, but the count was asked to go and see the baroness,and he accepted the invitation. It was never without a nervous shudder,since the dinner at Auteuil, and the events which followed it, thatMadame Danglars heard Monte Cristo’s name announced. If he did not come,the painful sensation became most intense; if, on the contrary, heappeared, his noble countenance, his brilliant eyes, his amiability, hispolite attention even towards Madame Danglars, soon dispelled everyimpression of fear. It appeared impossible to the baroness that a man ofsuch delightfully pleasing manners should entertain evil designs againsther; besides, the most corrupt minds only suspect evil when it wouldanswer some interested end—useless injury is repugnant to every mind.
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When Monte Cristo entered the boudoir, to which we have already onceintroduced our readers, and where the baroness was examining somedrawings, which her daughter passed to her after having looked at themwith M. Cavalcanti, his presence soon produced its usual effect, and itwas with smiles that the baroness received the count, although she hadbeen a little disconcerted at the announcement of his name. The lattertook in the whole scene at a glance.
The baroness was partially reclining on a sofa, Eugénie sat near her,and Cavalcanti was standing. Cavalcanti, dressed in black, like one ofGoethe’s heroes, with varnished shoes and white silk open-workedstockings, passed a white and tolerably nice-looking hand through hislight hair, and so displayed a sparkling diamond, that in spite of MonteCristo’s advice the vain young man had been unable to resist putting onhis little finger. This movement was accompanied by killing glances atMademoiselle 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 havebeen said to fall on the shield of Minerva, which some philosophersassert protected sometimes the breast of Sappho. Eugénie bowed coldly tothe count, and availed herself of the first moment when the conversationbecame earnest to escape to her study, whence very soon two cheerful andnoisy voices being heard in connection with occasional notes of thepiano assured Monte Cristo that Mademoiselle Danglars preferred to hissociety and to that of M. Cavalcanti the company of Mademoiselle Louised’Armilly, her singing teacher.
It was then, especially while conversing with Madame Danglars, andapparently absorbed by the charm of the conversation, that the countnoticed M. Andrea Cavalcanti’s solicitude, his manner of listening tothe music at the door he dared not pass, and of manifesting hisadmiration.
The banker soon returned. His first look was certainly directed towardsMonte Cristo, but the second was for Andrea. As for his wife, he bowedto her, as some husbands do to their wives, but in a way that bachelorswill never comprehend, until a very extensive code is published onconjugal life.
“Have not the ladies invited you to join them at the piano?” saidDanglars to Andrea.
“Alas, no, sir,” replied Andrea with a sigh, still more remarkable thanthe former ones. Danglars immediately advanced towards the door andopened it.
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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 hadaccustomed themselves, and performed admirably. Mademoiselle d’Armilly,whom they then perceived through the open doorway, formed with Eugénieone of the tableaux vivants of which the Germans are so fond. She wassomewhat beautiful, and exquisitely formed—a little fairy-like figure,with large curls falling on her neck, which was rather too long, asPerugino sometimes makes his Virgins, and her eyes dull from fatigue.She was said to have a weak chest, and like Antonia in the CremonaViolin, she would die one day while singing.
Monte Cristo cast one rapid and curious glance round this sanctum; itwas the first time he had ever seen Mademoiselle d’Armilly, of whom hehad heard much.
“Well,” said the banker to his daughter, “are we then all to beexcluded?”
He then led the young man into the study, and either by chance ormanœuvre the door was partially closed after Andrea, so that from theplace where they sat neither the Count nor the baroness could seeanything; but as the banker had accompanied Andrea, Madame Danglarsappeared 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 strengthof mind, who that very morning had lost three or four hundred thousandfrancs by a failure at Milan. The praise was well deserved, for had notthe count heard it from the baroness, or by one of those means by whichhe knew everything, the baron’s countenance would not have led him tosuspect it.
“Hem,” thought Monte Cristo, “he begins to conceal his losses; a monthsince he boasted of them.”
Then aloud,—“Oh, madame, M. Danglars is so skilful, he will soon regainat 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 has becomeof 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 didnot finish.”
“Which?”
“M. Debray had told you——”
“Ah, yes; he told me it was you who sacrificed to the demon ofspeculation.”
“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 awoman and fate had made me a banker’s wife, whatever might be myconfidence in my husband’s good fortune, still in speculation you knowthere is great risk. Well, I would secure for myself a fortuneindependent of him, even if I acquired it by placing my interests inhands unknown to him.” Madame Danglars blushed, in spite of all herefforts.
“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 Neapolitanbonds.”
“I have none—nor have I ever possessed any; but really we have talkedlong enough of money, count, we are like two stockbrokers; have youheard how fate is persecuting the poor Villeforts?”
“What has happened?” said the count, simulating total ignorance.
“You know the Marquis of Saint-Méran
died a few days after he had setout on his journey to Paris, and the marchioness a few days after herarrival?”
“Yes,” said Monte Cristo, “I have heard that; but, as Claudius said toHamlet, ‘it is a law of nature; their fathers died before them, and theymourned their loss; they will die before their children, who will, intheir turn, grieve for them.’”
“But that is not all.”
“Not all!”
“No; they were going to marry their daughter——”
“To M. Franz d’Épinay. 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 yourdaughter?”
“And Mademoiselle d’Armilly,” said the banker; “do you consider her noone?” Then, turning to Monte Cristo, he said, “Prince Cavalcanti is acharming young man, is he not? But is he really a prince?”
“I will not answer for it,” said Monte Cristo. “His father wasintroduced to me as a marquis, so he ought to be a count; but I do notthink he has much claim to that title.”
“Why?” said the banker. “If he is a prince, he is wrong not to maintainhis rank; I do not like anyone 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 thatroom, where he, the betrothed of Eugénie, has never been admitted.”
“You may well say, perchance,” replied the banker; “for he comes soseldom, it would seem only chance that brings him.”
“But should he come and find that young man with your daughter, he mightbe displeased.”
“He? You are mistaken. M. Albert would not do us the honor to bejealous; he does not like Eugénie sufficiently. Besides, I care not forhis displeasure.”
“Still, situated as we are——”
“Yes, do you know how we are situated? At his mother’s ball he dancedonce with Eugénie, and M. Cavalcanti three times, and he took no noticeof it.”
The valet announced the Vicomte Albert de Morcerf. The baroness rosehastily, 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 unconsciousof what passed. Albert entered, looking very handsome and in highspirits. He bowed politely to the baroness, familiarly to Danglars, andaffectionately to Monte Cristo. Then turning to the baroness: “May I askhow Mademoiselle Danglars is?” said he.
“She is quite well,” replied Danglars quickly; “she is at the piano withM. Cavalcanti.”
Albert retained his calm and indifferent manner; he might feel perhapsannoyed, but he knew Monte Cristo’s eye was on him. “M. Cavalcanti has afine tenor voice,” said he, “and Mademoiselle Eugénie a splendidsoprano, and then she plays the piano like Thalberg. The concert must bea delightful one.”
“They suit each other remarkably well,” said Danglars. Albert appearednot to notice this remark, which was, however, so rude that MadameDanglars blushed.
“I, too,” said the young man, “am a musician—at least, my masters usedto tell me so; but it is strange that my voice never would suit anyother, 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 mydaughter 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 youngman that title.
“Pardon me,” said Albert, “I was not aware that he was a prince. AndPrince Cavalcanti sang with Mademoiselle Eugénie yesterday? It must havebeen charming, indeed. I regret not having heard them. But I was unableto accept your invitation, having promised to accompany my mother to aGerman concert given by the Baroness of Château-Renaud.”
This was followed by rather an awkward silence.
“May I also be allowed,” said Morcerf, “to pay my respects toMademoiselle Danglars?”
“Wait a moment,” said the banker, stopping the young man; “do you hearthat delightful cavatina? Ta, ta, ta, ti, ta, ti, ta, ta; it ischarming, let them finish—one moment. Bravo, bravi, brava!” The bankerwas enthusiastic in his applause.
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“Indeed,” said Albert, “it is exquisite; it is impossible to understandthe music of his country better than Prince Cavalcanti does. You saidprince, 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 charmingmusicians—you should give us a treat, Danglars, without telling themthere is a stranger. Ask them to sing one more song; it is so delightfulto hear music in the distance, when the musicians are unrestrained byobservation.”
Danglars was quite annoyed by the young man’s indifference. He tookMonte 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 lovesher, but not to one who does not. See him there, cold as marble andproud 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 ifshe has good taste——”
“Oh,” said Monte Cristo, “my fondness may blind me, but I assure you Iconsider Morcerf a charming young man who will render your daughterhappy 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 youhave been thinking of this marriage, and you must see that it throwssome responsibility on me, for it was at my house you met this youngCavalcanti, 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? Andhe 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 theMorcerf family, to see him throw himself in the way.” Danglars burst outlaughing.
“What a Puritan you are!” said he; “that happens every day.”
“But you cannot break it off in this way; the Morcerfs are depending onthis 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?”
“At their ball; it was apparent enough. Why, did not the countess, theproud Mercédès, the disdainful Catalane, who will scarcely open her lipsto 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 barbarismin a megalomaniac like you!”
“Oh, don’t worry about me, Sir Mocker,” said Danglars; then turning toMonte Cristo he said:
“Bu
t 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 daughterlet him fix the day—declare his conditions; in short, let us eitherunderstand 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 awaitit. A banker must, you know, be a slave to his promise.” And Danglarssighed as M. Cavalcanti had done half an hour before.
“Bravi! bravo! brava!” cried Morcerf, parodying the banker, as theselection came to an end. Danglars began to look suspiciously atMorcerf, when someone came and whispered a few words to him.
“I shall soon return,” said the banker to Monte Cristo; “wait for me. Ishall, perhaps, have something to say to you.” And he went out.
The baroness took advantage of her husband’s absence to push open thedoor of her daughter’s study, and M. Andrea, who was sitting before thepiano with Mademoiselle Eugénie, started up like a jack-in-the-box.Albert bowed with a smile to Mademoiselle Danglars, who did not appearin the least disturbed, and returned his bow with her usual coolness.Cavalcanti was evidently embarrassed; he bowed to Morcerf, who repliedwith the most impertinent look possible. Then Albert launched out inpraise of Mademoiselle Danglars’ voice, and on his regret, after what hehad just heard, that he had been unable to be present the previousevening.
Cavalcanti, being left alone, turned to Monte Cristo.
“Come,” said Madame Danglars, “leave music and compliments, and let usgo and take tea.”
“Come, Louise,” said Mademoiselle Danglars to her friend.
They passed into the next drawing-room, where tea was prepared. Just asthey were beginning, in the English fashion, to leave the spoons intheir cups, the door again opened and Danglars entered, visiblyagitated. Monte Cristo observed it particularly, and by a look asked thebanker 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 awayfrom us.”
“Yes.”
“How is King Otho getting on?” asked Albert in the most sprightly tone.
Danglars cast another suspicious look towards him without answering, andMonte Cristo turned away to conceal the expression of pity which passedover 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 MonteCristo, who understood it perfectly,—“Did you see,” said he, “how helooked at me?”
“Yes,” said the count; “but did you think there was anything particularin 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 MademoiselleDanglars on her cameo, while the father talks to you.”
“If you compliment her at all, let it be on her voice, at least,” saidMonte Cristo.
“No, everyone would do that.”
“My dear viscount, you are dreadfully impertinent.”
Albert advanced towards Eugénie, smiling.
Meanwhile, Danglars, stooping to Monte Cristo’s ear, “Your advice wasexcellent,” said he; “there is a whole history connected with the namesFernand and Yanina.”
“Indeed?” said Monte Cristo.
“Yes, I will tell you all; but take away the young man; I cannot endurehis 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 theladies, and took their leave, Albert perfectly indifferent toMademoiselle Danglars’ contempt, Monte Cristo reiterating his advice toMadame Danglars on the prudence a banker’s wife should exercise inproviding for the future.
M. Cavalcanti remained master of the field.