The Count of Monte Cristo Alexandre Dumas (classic novels to read TXT) 📖

indifference. It is said, sympathy travels rapidly, and when at Tréport, I felt the electric shock; you have either been working for me or thinking of me.”

“Possibly,” said Monte Cristo, “I have indeed thought of you, but the magnetic wire I was guiding acted, indeed, without my knowledge.”

“Indeed! Pray tell me how it happened.”

“Willingly. M. Danglars dined with me.”

“I know it; to avoid meeting him, my mother and I left town.”

“But he met here M. Andrea Cavalcanti.”

“Your Italian prince?”

“Not so fast; M. Andrea only calls himself count.”

“Calls himself, do you say?”

“Yes, calls himself.”

“Is he not a count?”

“What can I know of him? He calls himself so. I, of course, give him the same title, and everyone else does likewise.”

“What a strange man you are! What next? You say M. Danglars dined here?”

“Yes, with Count Cavalcanti, the marquis his father, Madame Danglars, M. and Madame de Villefort⁠—charming people⁠—M. Debray, Maximilian Morrel, and M. de Château-Renaud.”

“Did they speak of me?”

“Not a word.”

“So much the worse.”

“Why so? I thought you wished them to forget you?”

“If they did not speak of me, I am sure they thought about me, and I am in despair.”

“How will that affect you, since Mademoiselle Danglars was not among the number here who thought of you? Truly, she might have thought of you at home.”

“I have no fear of that; or, if she did, it was only in the same way in which I think of her.”

“Touching sympathy! So you hate each other?” said the count.

“Listen,” said Morcerf⁠—“if Mademoiselle Danglars were disposed to take pity on my supposed martyrdom on her account, and would dispense with all matrimonial formalities between our two families, I am ready to agree to the arrangement. In a word, Mademoiselle Danglars would make a charming mistress⁠—but a wife⁠—diable!”

“And this,” said Monte Cristo, “is your opinion of your intended spouse?”

“Yes; it is rather unkind, I acknowledge, but it is true. But as this dream cannot be realized, since Mademoiselle Danglars must become my lawful wife, live perpetually with me, sing to me, compose verses and music within ten paces of me, and that for my whole life, it frightens me. One may forsake a mistress, but a wife⁠—good heavens! There she must always be; and to marry Mademoiselle Danglars would be awful.”

“You are difficult to please, viscount.”

“Yes, for I often wish for what is impossible.”

“What is that?”

“To find such a wife as my father found.”

Monte Cristo turned pale, and looked at Albert, while playing with some magnificent pistols.

“Your father was fortunate, then?” said he.

“You know my opinion of my mother, count; look at her⁠—still beautiful, witty, more charming than ever. For any other son to have stayed with his mother for four days at Tréport, it would have been a condescension or a martyrdom, while I return, more contented, more peaceful⁠—shall I say more poetic!⁠—than if I had taken Queen Mab or Titania as my companion.”

“That is an overwhelming demonstration, and you would make everyone vow to live a single life.”

“Such are my reasons for not liking to marry Mademoiselle Danglars. Have you ever noticed how much a thing is heightened in value when we obtain possession of it? The diamond which glittered in the window at Marlé’s or Fossin’s shines with more splendor when it is our own; but if we are compelled to acknowledge the superiority of another, and still must retain the one that is inferior, do you not know what we have to endure?”

“Worldling,” murmured the count.

“Thus I shall rejoice when Mademoiselle Eugénie perceives I am but a pitiful atom, with scarcely as many hundred thousand francs as she has millions.” Monte Cristo smiled. “One plan occurred to me,” continued Albert; “Franz likes all that is eccentric; I tried to make him fall in love with Mademoiselle Danglars; but in spite of four letters, written in the most alluring style, he invariably answered: ‘My eccentricity may be great, but it will not make me break my promise.’ ”

“That is what I call devoted friendship, to recommend to another one whom you would not marry yourself.” Albert smiled.

“Apropos,” continued he, “Franz is coming soon, but it will not interest you; you dislike him, I think?”

“I?” said Monte Cristo; “my dear viscount, how have you discovered that I did not like M. Franz! I like everyone.”

“And you include me in the expression everyone⁠—many thanks!”

“Let us not mistake,” said Monte Cristo; “I love everyone as God commands us to love our neighbor, as Christians; but I thoroughly hate but a few. Let us return to M. Franz d’Épinay. Did you say he was coming?”

“Yes; summoned by M. de Villefort, who is apparently as anxious to get Mademoiselle Valentine married as M. Danglars is to see Mademoiselle Eugénie settled. It must be a very irksome office to be the father of a grown-up daughter; it seems to make one feverish, and to raise one’s pulse to ninety beats a minute until the deed is done.”

“But M. d’Épinay, unlike you, bears his misfortune patiently.”

“Still more, he talks seriously about the matter, puts on a white tie, and speaks of his family. He entertains a very high opinion of M. and Madame de Villefort.”

“Which they deserve, do they not?”

“I believe they do. M. de Villefort has always passed for a severe but a just man.”

“There is, then, one,” said Monte Cristo, “whom you do not condemn like poor Danglars?”

“Because I am not compelled to marry his daughter perhaps,” replied Albert, laughing.

“Indeed, my dear sir,” said Monte Cristo, “you are revoltingly foppish.”

“I foppish? how do you mean?”

“Yes; pray take a cigar, and cease to defend yourself, and to struggle to escape marrying Mademoiselle Danglars. Let things take their course; perhaps you may not have to retract.”

“Bah!” said Albert, staring.

“Doubtless, my dear viscount, you will not be taken by force; and seriously, do you wish to break off your engagement?”

“I would give a hundred thousand francs to be able to do so.”

“Then make yourself quite easy. M. Danglars would give double that sum to attain the same end.”

“Am