Chapter 76 Progress of Cavalcanti the Younger
|
|||||
MEANWHILE
M. Cavalcanti the elder had returned to his service, not in the army of
his majesty the Emperor of Austria, but at the gaming-table of the baths
of Lucca, of which he was one of the most assiduous courtiers. He had
spent every farthing that had been allowed for his journey as a reward for
the majestic and solemn manner in which he had maintained his assumed
character of father. M. Andrea at his departure inherited all the papers
which proved that he had indeed the honor of being the son of the Marquis
Bartolomeo and the Marchioness Oliva Corsinari. He was now fairly launched
in that Parisian society which gives such ready access to foreigners, and
treats them, not as they really are, but as they wish to be considered.
Besides, what is required of a young man in Paris? To speak its language
tolerably, to make a good appearance, to be a good gamester, and to pay in
cash. They are certainly less particular with a foreigner than with a
Frenchman. Andrea had, then, in a fortnight, attained a very fair
position. He was called count, he was said to possess 50,000 livres per
annum; and his father's immense riches, buried in the quarries of
Saravezza, were a constant theme. A learned man, before whom the last
circumstance was mentioned as a fact, declared he had seen the quarries in
question, which gave great weight to assertions hitherto somewhat
doubtful, but which now assumed the garb of reality. Such
was the state of society in Paris at the period we bring before our
readers, 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, that Madame
Danglars heard Monte Cristo's name announced. If he did not come, the
painful sensation became most intense; if, on the contrary, he appeared,
his noble countenance, his brilliant eyes, his amiability, his polite
attention even towards Madame Danglars, soon dispelled every impression of
fear. It appeared impossible to the baroness that a man of such
delightfully pleasing manners should entertain evil designs against her;
besides, the most corrupt minds only suspect evil when it would answer
some interested end--useless injury is repugnant to every mind. When Monte
Cristo entered the boudoir,--to which we have already once introduced our
readers, and where the baroness was examining some drawings, which her
daughter passed to her after having looked at them with M. Cavalcanti,--his
presence soon produced its usual effect, and it was with smiles that the
baroness received the count, although she had been a little disconcerted
at the announcement of his name. The latter took in the whole scene at a
glance. The
baroness was partially reclining on a sofa, Eugижnie sat near her, and Cavalcanti was standing.
Cavalcanti, dressed in black, like one of Goethe's heroes, with varnished
shoes and white silk open-worked stockings, passed a white and tolerably
nice-looking hand through his light hair, and so displayed a sparkling
diamond, that in spite of Monte Cristo's advice the vain young man had
been unable to resist putting on his little finger. This movement was
accompanied by killing glances at Mademoiselle 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 have been said to
fall on the shield of Minerva, which some philosophers assert protected
sometimes the breast of Sappho. Eugижnie
bowed coldly to the count, and availed herself of the first moment when
the conversation became earnest to escape to her study, whence very soon
two cheerful and noisy voices being heard in connection with occasional
notes of the piano assured Monte Cristo that Mademoiselle Danglars
preferred to his society and to that of M. Cavalcanti the company of
Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly, her singing teacher. It
was then, especially while conversing with Madame Danglars, and apparently
absorbed by the charm of the conversation, that the count noticed M.
Andrea Cavalcanti's solicitude, his manner of listening to the music at
the door he dared not pass, and of manifesting his admiration. The banker
soon returned. His first look was certainly directed towards Monte Cristo,
but the second was for Andrea. As for his wife, he bowed to her, as some
husbands do to their wives, but in a way that bachelors will never
comprehend, until a very extensive code is published on conjugal life. "Have
not the ladies invited you to join them at the piano?" said Danglars
to Andrea. "Alas,
no, sir," replied Andrea with a sigh, still more remarkable than the
former ones. Danglars
immediately advanced towards the door and opened it. 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 had
accustomed themselves, and performed admirably. Mademoiselle d'Armilly,
whom they then perceived through the open doorway, formed with Eugижnie one of the tableaux vivants
of which the Germans are so fond. She was somewhat beautiful, and
exquisitely formed--a little fairy-like figure, with large curls falling
on her neck, which was rather too long, as Perugino sometimes makes his
Virgins, and her eyes dull from fatigue. She was said to have a weak
chest, and like Antonia in the "Cremona Violin," she would die
one day while singing. Monte Cristo cast one rapid and curious glance
round this sanctum; it was the first time he had ever seen Mademoiselle
d'Armilly, of whom he had heard much. "Well," said the banker to
his daughter, "are we then all to be excluded?" He then led the
young man into the study, and either by chance or manoeuvre the door was
partially closed after Andrea, so that from the place where they sat
neither the Count nor the baroness could see anything; but as the banker
had accompanied Andrea, Madame Danglars appeared 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 strength of mind, who that very
morning had lost three or four hundred thousand francs by a failure at
Milan. The praise was well deserved, for had not the count heard it from
the baroness, or by one of those means by which he knew everything, the
baron's countenance would not have led him to suspect it. "Hem,"
thought Monte Cristo, "he begins to conceal his losses; a month since
he boasted of them." Then aloud,--"Oh, madame, M. Danglars is so
skilful, he will soon regain at 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 is become of 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
did not finish." "Which?"
"M.
Debray had told you"-- "Ah,
yes; he told me it was you who sacrificed to the demon of
speculation." "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 a woman and
fate had made me a banker's wife, whatever might be my confidence in my
husband's good fortune, still in speculation you know there is great risk.
Well, I would secure for myself a fortune independent of him, even if I
acquired it by placing my interests in hands unknown to him." Madame
Danglars blushed, in spite of all her efforts. "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 Neapolitan
bonds." "I
have none--nor have I ever possessed any; but really we have talked long
enough of money, count, we are like two stockbrokers; have you heard how
fate is persecuting the poor Villeforts?" "What
has happened?" said the count, simulating total ignorance. "You
know the Marquis of Saint-Mижran
died a few days after he had set out on his journey to Paris, and the
marchioness a few days after her arrival?" "Yes,"
said Monte Cristo, "I have heard that; but, as Claudius said to
Hamlet, 'it is a law of nature; their fathers died before them, and they
mourned their loss; they will die before their children, who will, in
their turn, grieve for them.'" "But
that is not all." "Not
all!" "No; they were going to marry their daughter"-- "To
M. Franz d'Epinay. 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
your daughter?" "And
Mademoiselle d'Armilly," said the banker; "do you consider her
no one?" Then, turning to Monte Cristo, he said, "Prince
Cavalcanti is a charming young man, is he not? But is he really a
prince?" "I
will not answer for it," said Monte Cristo. "His father was
introduced to me as a marquis, so he ought to be a count; but I do not
think he has much claim to that title." "Why?"
said the banker. "If he is a prince, he is wrong not to maintain his
rank; I do not like any one 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
that room, where he, the betrothed of Eugижnie, has never been admitted." "You
may well say, perchance," replied the banker; "for he comes so
seldom, it would seem only chance that brings him." "But
should he come and find that young man with your daughter, he might be
displeased." "He?
You are mistaken. M. Albert would not do us the honor to be jealous; he
does not like Eugижnie
sufficiently. Besides, I care not for his displeasure." "Still,
situated as we are"-- "Yes,
do you know how we are situated? At his mother's ball he danced once with
Eugижnie, and M. Cavalcanti three
times, and he took no notice of it." The valet announced the Vicomte
Albert de Morcerf. The baroness rose hastily, 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 unconscious of
what passed. Albert entered, looking very handsome and in high spirits. He
bowed politely to the baroness, familiarly to Danglars, and affectionately
to Monte Cristo. Then turning to the baroness: "May I ask how
Mademoiselle Danglars is?" said he. "She
is quite well," replied Danglars quickly; "she is at the piano
with M. Cavalcanti." Albert retained his calm and indifferent manner;
he might feel perhaps annoyed, but he knew Monte Cristo's eye was on him.
"M. Cavalcanti has a fine tenor voice," said he, "and
Mademoiselle Eugижnie a splendid soprano, and then
she plays the piano like Thalberg. The concert must be a delightful
one." "They
suit each other remarkably well," said Danglars. Albert appeared not
to notice this remark, which was, however, so rude that Madame Danglars
blushed. "I,
too," said the young man, "am a musician--at least, my masters
used to tell me so; but it is strange that my voice never would suit any
other, 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 my daughter 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 young man that title. "Pardon
me," said Albert, "I was not aware that he was a prince. And
Prince Cavalcanti sang with Mademoiselle Eugижnie yesterday? It must have been charming, indeed. I
regret not having heard them. But I was unable to accept your invitation,
having promised to accompany my mother to a German concert given by the
Baroness of Chateau-Renaud." This was followed by rather an awkward
silence. "May I also be allowed," said Morcerf, "to pay my
respects to Mademoiselle Danglars?" "Wait a moment," said
the banker, stopping the young man; "do you hear that delightful
cavatina? Ta, ta, ta, ti, ta, ti, ta, ta; it is charming, let them
finish--one moment. Bravo, bravi, brava!" The banker was enthusiastic
in his applause. "Indeed,"
said Albert, "it is exquisite; it is impossible to understand the
music of his country better than Prince Cavalcanti does. You said prince,
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 charming musicians--you
should give us a treat, Danglars, without telling them there is a
stranger. Ask them to sing one more song; it is so delightful to hear
music in the distance, when the musicians are unrestrained by
observation." Danglars
was quite annoyed by the young man's indifference. He took Monte 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 loves her, but
not to one who does not. See him there, cold as marble and proud 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 if she has good
taste"-- "Oh,"
said Monte Cristo, "my fondness may blind me, but I assure you I
consider Morcerf a charming young man who will render your daughter happy
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 you have been
thinking of this marriage, and you must see that it throws some
responsibility on me, for it was at my house you met this young Cavalcanti,
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? And he 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 the Morcerf
family, to see him throw himself in the way." Danglars burst out
laughing. "What a Puritan you are!" said he; "that happens
every day." "But
you cannot break it off in this way; the Morcerfs are depending on this
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, the proud
Mercижdииs, 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 melomaniac 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 Eugижnie,
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 Eugижnie,
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. |
|||||
|
©2005 - 2010 ???? . All Rights Reserved.