"It is usual, certainly; but Cavalcanti is an original who does nothing like other people. I cannot help thinking that he has brought his son to France to choose a wife."
"Do you think so?"
"I am sure of it."
"And you have heard his fortune mentioned?"
"Nothing else was talked of; only some said he was worth millions, and others that he did not possess a farthing."
"And what is your opinion?"
"I ought not to influence you, because it is only my own personal impression."
"Well, and it is that"-- "My opinion is, that all these old podestas, these ancient condottieri,--for the Cavalcanti have commanded armies and governed provinces,--my opinion, I say, is, that they have buried their millions in corners, the secret of which they have transmitted only to their eldest sons, who have done the same from generation to generation; and the proof of this is seen in their yellow and dry appearance, like the florins of the republic, which, from being constantly gazed upon, have become reflected in them."
"Certainly," said Danglars, "and this is further supported by the fact of their not possessing an inch of land."
"Very little, at least; I know of none which Cavalcanti possesses, excepting his palace in Lucca."
"Ah, he has a palace?" said Danglars, laughing; "come, that is something."
"Yes; and more than that, he lets it to the Minister of Finance while he lives in a simple house. Oh, as I told you before, I think the old fellow is very close."
"Come, you do not flatter him."
"I scarcely know him; I think I have seen him three times in my life; all I know relating to him is through Busoni and himself. He was telling me this morning that, tired of letting his property lie dormant in Italy, which is a dead nation, he wished to find a method, either in France or England, of multiplying his millions, but remember, that though I place great confidence in Busoni, I am not responsible for this."
"Never mind; accept my thanks for the client you have sent me. It is a fine name to inscribe on my ledgers, and my cashier was quite proud of it when I explained to him who the Cavalcanti were. By the way, this is merely a simple question, when this sort of people marry their sons, do they give them any fortune?"
"Oh, that depends upon circ.u.mstances. I know an Italian prince, rich as a gold mine, one of the n.o.blest families in Tuscany, who, when his sons married according to his wish, gave them millions; and when they married against his consent, merely allowed them thirty crowns a month. Should Andrea marry according to his father"s views, he will, perhaps, give him one, two, or three millions. For example, supposing it were the daughter of a banker, he might take an interest in the house of the father-in-law of his son; then again, if he disliked his choice, the major takes the key, double-locks his coffer, and Master Andrea would be obliged to live like the sons of a Parisian family, by shuffling cards or rattling the dice."
"Ah, that boy will find out some Bavarian or Peruvian princess; he will want a crown and an immense fortune."
"No; these grand lords on the other side of the Alps frequently marry into plain families; like Jupiter, they like to cross the race. But do you wish to marry Andrea, my dear M. Danglars, that you are asking so many questions?"
"Ma foi," said Danglars, "it would not be a bad speculation, I fancy, and you know I am a speculator."
"You are not thinking of Mademoiselle Danglars, I hope; you would not like poor Andrea to have his throat cut by Albert?"
"Albert," repeated Danglars, shrugging his shoulders; "ah, well; he would care very little about it, I think."
"But he is betrothed to your daughter, I believe?"
"Well, M. de Morcerf and I have talked about this marriage, but Madame de Morcerf and Albert"-- "You do not mean to say that it would not be a good match?"
"Indeed, I imagine that Mademoiselle Danglars is as good as M. de Morcerf."
"Mademoiselle Danglars" fortune will be great, no doubt, especially if the telegraph should not make any more mistakes."
"Oh, I do not mean her fortune only; but tell me"-- "What?"
"Why did you not invite M. and Madame de Morcerf to your dinner?"
"I did so, but he excused himself on account of Madame de Morcerf being obliged to go to Dieppe for the benefit of sea air."
"Yes, yes," said Danglars, laughing, "it would do her a great deal of good."
"Why so?"
"Because it is the air she always breathed in her youth." Monte Cristo took no notice of this ill-natured remark.
"But still, if Albert be not so rich as Mademoiselle Danglars," said the count, "you must allow that he has a fine name?"
"So he has; but I like mine as well."
"Certainly; your name is popular, and does honor to the t.i.tle they have adorned it with; but you are too intelligent not to know that according to a prejudice, too firmly rooted to be exterminated, a n.o.bility which dates back five centuries is worth more than one that can only reckon twenty years."
"And for this very reason," said Danglars with a smile, which he tried to make sardonic, "I prefer M. Andrea Cavalcanti to M. Albert de Morcerf."
"Still, I should not think the Morcerfs would yield to the Cavalcanti?"
"The Morcerfs!--Stay, my dear count," said Danglars; "you are a man of the world, are you not?"
"I think so."
"And you understand heraldry?"
"A little."
"Well, look at my coat-of-arms, it is worth more than Morcerf"s."
"Why so?"
"Because, though I am not a baron by birth, my real name is, at least, Danglars."
"Well, what then?"
"While his name is not Morcerf."
"How?--not Morcerf?"
"Not the least in the world."
"Go on."
"I have been made a baron, so that I actually am one; he made himself a count, so that he is not one at all."
"Impossible!"
"Listen my dear count; M. de Morcerf has been my friend, or rather my acquaintance, during the last thirty years. You know I have made the most of my arms, though I never forgot my origin."
"A proof of great humility or great pride," said Monte Cristo.
"Well, when I was a clerk, Morcerf was a mere fisherman."
"And then he was called"-- "Fernand."
"Only Fernand?"
"Fernand Mondego."
"You are sure?"
"Pardieu, I have bought enough fish of him to know his name."
"Then, why did you think of giving your daughter to him?"
"Because Fernand and Danglars, being both parvenus, both having become n.o.ble, both rich, are about equal in worth, excepting that there have been certain things mentioned of him that were never said of me."
"What?"
"Oh, nothing!"
"Ah, yes; what you tell me recalls to mind something about the name of Fernand Mondego. I have heard that name in Greece."
"In conjunction with the affairs of Ali Pasha?"
"Exactly so."
"This is the mystery," said Danglars. "I acknowledge I would have given anything to find it out."
"It would be very easy if you much wished it?"
"How so?"
"Probably you have some correspondent in Greece?"
"I should think so."
"At Yanina?"
"Everywhere."
"Well, write to your correspondent in Yanina, and ask him what part was played by a Frenchman named Fernand Mondego in the catastrophe of Ali Tepelini."
"You are right," exclaimed Danglars, rising quickly, "I will write to-day."
"Do so."
"I will."
"And if you should hear of anything very scandalous"-- "I will communicate it to you."
"You will oblige me." Danglars rushed out of the room, and made but one leap into his coupe.
Chapter 67.
At the Office of the King"s Attorney.
Let us leave the banker driving his horses at their fullest speed, and follow Madame Danglars in her morning excursion. We have said that at half-past twelve o"clock Madame Danglars had ordered her horses, and had left home in the carriage. She directed her course towards the Faubourg Saint Germain, went down the Rue Mazarine, and stopped at the Pa.s.sage du Pont-Neuf. She descended, and went through the pa.s.sage. She was very plainly dressed, as would be the case with a woman of taste walking in the morning. At the Rue Guenegaud she called a cab, and directed the driver to go to the Rue de Harlay. As soon as she was seated in the vehicle, she drew from her pocket a very thick black veil, which she tied on to her straw bonnet. She then replaced the bonnet, and saw with pleasure, in a little pocket-mirror, that her white complexion and brilliant eyes were alone visible. The cab crossed the Pont-Neuf and entered the Rue de Harlay by the Place Dauphine; the driver was paid as the door opened, and stepping lightly up the stairs Madame Danglars soon reached the Salle des Pas-Perdus.
There was a great deal going on that morning, and many business-like persons at the Palais; business-like persons pay very little attention to women, and Madame Danglars crossed the hall without exciting any more attention than any other woman calling upon her lawyer. There was a great press of people in M. de Villefort"s ante-chamber, but Madame Danglars had no occasion even to p.r.o.nounce her name. The instant she appeared the door-keeper rose, came to her, and asked her whether she was not the person with whom the procureur had made an appointment; and on her affirmative answer being given, he conducted her by a private pa.s.sage to M. de Villefort"s office. The magistrate was seated in an arm-chair, writing, with his back towards the door; he did not move as he heard it open, and the door-keeper p.r.o.nounce the words, "Walk in, madame," and then reclose it; but no sooner had the man"s footsteps ceased, than he started up, drew the bolts, closed the curtains, and examined every corner of the room. Then, when he had a.s.sured himself that he could neither be seen nor heard, and was consequently relieved of doubts, he said,--"Thanks, madame,--thanks for your punctuality;" and he offered a chair to Madame Danglars, which she accepted, for her heart beat so violently that she felt nearly suffocated.
"It is a long time, madame," said the procureur, describing a half-circle with his chair, so as to place himself exactly opposite to Madame Danglars,--"it is a long time since I had the pleasure of speaking alone with you, and I regret that we have only now met to enter upon a painful conversation."
"Nevertheless, sir, you see I have answered your first appeal, although certainly the conversation must be much more painful for me than for you." Villefort smiled bitterly.
"It is true, then," he said, rather uttering his thoughts aloud than addressing his companion,--"it is true, then, that all our actions leave their traces--some sad, others bright--on our paths; it is true that every step in our lives is like the course of an insect on the sands;--it leaves its track! Alas, to many the path is traced by tears."
"Sir," said Madame Danglars, "you can feel for my emotion, can you not? Spare me, then, I beseech you. When I look at this room,--whence so many guilty creatures have departed, trembling and ashamed, when I look at that chair before which I now sit trembling and ashamed,--oh, it requires all my reason to convince me that I am not a very guilty woman and you a menacing judge." Villefort dropped his head and sighed. "And I," he said, "I feel that my place is not in the judge"s seat, but on the prisoner"s stool."
"You?" said Madame Danglars.
"Yes, I."
"I think, sir, you exaggerate your situation," said Madame Danglars, whose beautiful eyes sparkled for a moment. "The paths of which you were just speaking have been traced by all young men of ardent imaginations. Besides the pleasure, there is always remorse from the indulgence of our pa.s.sions, and, after all, what have you men to fear from all this? the world excuses, and notoriety enn.o.bles you."
"Madame," replied Villefort, "you know that I am no hypocrite, or, at least, that I never deceive without a reason. If my brow be severe, it is because many misfortunes have clouded it; if my heart be petrified, it is that it might sustain the blows it has received. I was not so in my youth, I was not so on the night of the betrothal, when we were all seated around a table in the Rue du Cours at Ma.r.s.eilles. But since then everything has changed in and about me; I am accustomed to brave difficulties, and, in the conflict to crush those who, by their own free will, or by chance, voluntarily or involuntarily, interfere with me in my career. It is generally the case that what we most ardently desire is as ardently withheld from us by those who wish to obtain it, or from whom we attempt to s.n.a.t.c.h it. Thus, the greater number of a man"s errors come before him disguised under the specious form of necessity; then, after error has been committed in a moment of excitement, of delirium, or of fear, we see that we might have avoided and escaped it. The means we might have used, which we in our blindness could not see, then seem simple and easy, and we say, "Why did I not do this, instead of that?" Women, on the contrary, are rarely tormented with remorse; for the decision does not come from you,--your misfortunes are generally imposed upon you, and your faults the results of others" crimes."
"In any case, sir, you will allow," replied Madame Danglars, "that, even if the fault were alone mine, I last night received a severe punishment for it."
"Poor thing," said Villefort, pressing her hand, "it was too severe for your strength, for you were twice overwhelmed, and yet"-- "Well?"
"Well, I must tell you. Collect all your courage, for you have not yet heard all."
"Ah," exclaimed Madame Danglars, alarmed, "what is there more to hear?"
"You only look back to the past, and it is, indeed, bad enough. Well, picture to yourself a future more gloomy still--certainly frightful, perhaps sanguinary." The baroness knew how calm Villefort naturally was, and his present excitement frightened her so much that she opened her mouth to scream, but the sound died in her throat. "How has this terrible past been recalled?" cried Villefort; "how is it that it has escaped from the depths of the tomb and the recesses of our hearts, where it was buried, to visit us now, like a phantom, whitening our cheeks and flushing our brows with shame?"
"Alas," said Hermine, "doubtless it is chance."