“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 say, “Thank you, my child,” nor did the daughter smile at her father. “Is the conference ended?” asked Eugenie, rising. Danglars motioned that he had nothing more to say. Five minutes afterwards the piano resounded to the touch of Mademoiselle d’Armilly’s fingers, and Mademoiselle Danglars was singing Brabantio’s malediction on Desdemona. At the end of the piece Etienne entered, and announced to Eugenie that the horses were in the carriage, and that the baroness was waiting for her to pay her visits. We have seen them at Villefort’s; they proceeded then on their course.
Chapter 96
* * *
The Contract.
Three days after the scene we have just described, namely towards five o’clock in the afternoon of the day fixed for the signature of the contract between Mademoiselle Eugenie Danglars and Andrea Cavalcanti, — whom the banker persisted in calling prince, — a fresh breeze was stirring the leaves in the little garden in front of the Count of Monte Cristo’s house, and the count was preparing to go out. While his horses were impatiently pawing the ground, — held in by the coachman, who had been seated a quarter of an hour on his box, — the elegant phaeton with which we are familiar rapidly turned the angle of the entrance-gate, and cast out on the doorsteps M. Andrea Cavalcanti, as decked up and gay as if he were going to marry a princess. He inquired after the count with his usual familiarity, and ascending lightly to the second story met him at the top of the stairs. The count stopped on seeing the young man. As for Andrea, he was launched, and when he was once launched nothing stopped him. “Ah, good morning, my dear count,” said he. “Ah, M. Andrea,” said the latter, with his half-jesting tone; “how do you do.”
“Charmingly, as you see. I am come to talk to you about a thousand things; but, first tell me, were you going out or just returned?”
“I was going out, sir.”
“Then, in order not to hinder you, I will get up with you if you please in your carriage, and Tom shall follow with my phaeton in tow.”
“No,” said the count, with an imperceptible smile of contempt, for he had no wish to be seen in the young man’s society, —“no; I prefer listening to you here, my dear M. Andrea; we can chat better in-doors, and there is no coachman to overhear our conversation.” The count returned to a small drawing-room on the first floor, sat down, and crossing his legs motioned to the young man to take a seat also. Andrea assumed his gayest manner. “You know, my dear count,” said he, “the ceremony is to take place this evening. At nine o’clock the contract is to be signed at my father-in-law’s.”
“Ah, indeed?” said Monte Cristo.
“What; is it news to you? Has not M. Danglars informed you of the ceremony?”
“Oh, yes,” said the count; “I received a letter from him yesterday, but I do not think the hour was mentioned.”
“Possibly my father-in-law trusted to its general notoriety.”
“Well,” said Monte Cristo, “you are fortunate, M. Cavalcanti; it is a most suitable alliance you are contracting, and Mademoiselle Danglars is a handsome girl.”
“Yes, indeed she is,” replied Cavalcanti, in a very modest tone.
“Above all, she is very rich, — at least, I believe so,” said Monte Cristo.
“Very rich, do you think?” replied the young man.
“Doubtless; it is said M. Danglars conceals at least half of his fortune.”
“And he acknowledges fifteen or twenty millions,” said Andrea with a look sparkling with joy.