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 Mercedes, 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 megalomaniac 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 Eugenie, 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."