Chapter 104 Danglars Signature
|
|||||
THE
NEXT MORNING dawned dull and cloudy. During the night the undertakers had
executed their melancholy office, and wrapped the corpse in the
winding-sheet, which, whatever may be said about the equality of death, is
at least a last proof of the luxury so pleasing in life. This
winding-sheet was nothing more than a beautiful piece of cambric, which
the young girl had bought a fortnight before. During the evening two men,
engaged for the purpose, had carried Noirtier from Valentine's room into
his own, and contrary to all expectation there was no difficulty in
withdrawing him from his child. The Abbиж Busoni had watched till
daylight, and then left without calling any one. D'Avrigny returned about
eight o'clock in the morning; he met Villefort on his way to Noirtier's
room, and accompanied him to see how the old man had slept. They found him
in the large arm-chair, which served him for a bed, enjoying a calm, nay,
almost a smiling sleep. They both stood in amazement at the door. "See,"
said d'Avrigny to Villefort, "nature knows how to alleviate the
deepest sorrow. No one can say that M. Noirtier did not love his child,
and yet he sleeps." "Yes,
you are right," replied Villefort, surprised; "he sleeps,
indeed! And this is the more strange, since the least contradiction keeps
him awake all night." "Grief
has stunned him," replied d'Avrigny; and they both returned
thoughtfully to the procureur's study. "See,
I have not slept," said Villefort, showing his undisturbed bed;
"grief does not stun me. I have not been in bed for two nights; but
then look at my desk; see what I have written during these two days and
nights. I have filled those papers, and have made out the accusation
against the assassin Benedetto. Oh, work, work,--my passion, my joy, my
delight,--it is for thee to alleviate my sorrows!" and he
convulsively grasped the hand of d'Avrigny. "Do
you require my services now?" asked d'Avrigny. "No,"
said Villefort; "only return again at eleven o'clock; at twelve
the--the--oh, heavens, my poor, poor child!" and the procureur again
becoming a man, lifted up his eyes and groaned. "Shall
you be present in the reception room?" "No;
I have a cousin who has undertaken this sad office. I shall work,
doctor--when I work I forget everything." And, indeed, no sooner had
the doctor left the room, than he was again absorbed in study. On the
doorsteps d'Avrigny met the cousin whom Villefort had mentioned, a
personage as insignificant in our story as in the world he occupied--one
of those beings designed from their birth to make themselves useful to
others. He was punctual, dressed in black, with crape around his hat, and
presented himself at his cousin's with a face made up for the occasion,
and which he could alter as might be required. At twelve o'clock the
mourning-coaches rolled into the paved court, and the Rue du Faubourg
Saint-Honorиж
was filled with a crowd of idlers, equally pleased to witness the
festivities or the mourning of the rich, and who rush with the same
avidity to a funeral procession as to the marriage of a duchess. Gradually
the reception-room filled, and some of our old friends made their
appearance--we mean Debray, Chateau-Renaud, and Beauchamp, accompanied by
all the leading men of the day at the bar, in literature, or the army, for
M. de Villefort moved in the first Parisian circles, less owing to his
social position than to his personal merit. The cousin standing at the
door ushered in the guests, and it was rather a relief to the indifferent
to see a person as unmoved as themselves, and who did not exact a mournful
face or force tears, as would have been the case with a father, a brother,
or a lover. Those who were acquainted soon formed into little groups. One
of them was made of Debray, Chateau-Renaud, and Beauchamp. "Poor
girl," said Debray, like the rest, paying an involuntary tribute to
the sad event,--"poor girl, so young, so rich, so beautiful! Could
you have imagined this scene, Chateau-Renaud, when we saw her, at the most
three weeks ago, about to sign that contract?" "Indeed,
no," said Chateau-Renaud--"Did you know her?" "I
spoke to her once or twice at Madame de Morcerf's, among the rest; she
appeared to me charming, though rather melancholy. Where is her
stepmother? Do you know?" "She
is spending the day with the wife of the worthy gentleman who is receiving
us." "Who
is he?" "Whom
do you mean?" "The
gentleman who receives us? Is he a deputy?" "Oh,
no. I am condemned to witness those gentlemen every day," said
Beauchamp; "but he is perfectly unknown to me." "Have
you mentioned this death in your paper?" "It
has been mentioned, but the article is not mine; indeed, I doubt if it
will please M. Villefort, for it says that if four successive deaths had
happened anywhere else than in the house of the king's attorney, he would
have interested himself somewhat more about it." "Still,"
said Chateau-Renaud, "Dr. d'Avrigny, who attends my mother, declares
he is in despair about it. But whom are you seeking, Debray?" "I
am seeking the Count of Monte Cristo" said the young man. "I
met him on the boulevard, on my way here," said Beauchamp. "I
think he is about to leave Paris; he was going to his banker." "His
banker? Danglars is his banker, is he not?" asked Chateau-Renaud of
Debray. "I
believe so," replied the secretary with slight uneasiness. "But
Monte Cristo is not the only one I miss here; I do not see Morrel." "Morrel?
Do they know him?" asked Chateau-Renaud. "I think he has only
been introduced to Madame de Villefort." "Still,
he ought to have been here," said Debray; "I wonder what will be
talked about to-night; this funeral is the news of the day. But hush, here
comes our minister of justice; he will feel obliged to make some little
speech to the cousin," and the three young men drew near to listen.
Beauchamp told the truth when he said that on his way to the funeral he
had met Monte Cristo, who was directing his steps towards the Rue de la
Chausse d'Antin, to M. Danglars'. The
banker saw the carriage of the count enter the court yard, and advanced to
meet him with a sad, though affable smile. "Well," said he,
extending his hand to Monte Cristo, "I suppose you have come to
sympathize with me, for indeed misfortune has taken possession of my
house. When I perceived you, I was just asking myself whether I had not
wished harm towards those poor Morcerfs, which would have justified the
proverb of 'He who wishes misfortunes to happen to others experiences them
himself.' Well, on my word of honor, I answered, 'No!' I wished no ill to
Morcerf; he was a little proud, perhaps, for a man who like myself has
risen from nothing; but we all have our faults. Do you know, count, that
persons of our time of life--not that you belong to the class, you are
still a young man,--but as I was saying, persons of our time of life have
been very unfortunate this year. For example, look at the puritanical
procureur, who has just lost his daughter, and in fact nearly all his
family, in so singular a manner; Morcerf dishonored and dead; and then
myself covered with ridicule through the villany of Benedetto;
besides"-- "Besides
what?" asked the Count. "Alas,
do you not know?" "What
new calamity?" "My
daughter"-- "Mademoiselle
Danglars?" "Eugижnie has left us!" "Good
heavens, what are you telling me?" "The
truth, my dear count. Oh, how happy you must be in not having either wife
or children!" "Do
you think so?" "Indeed
I do." "And
so Mademoiselle Danglars"-- "She
could not endure the insult offered to us by that wretch, so she asked
permission to travel." "And
is she gone?" "The
other night she left." "With
Madame Danglars?" "No,
with a relation. But still, we have quite lost our dear Eugижnie; for I doubt whether her
pride will ever allow her to return to France." "Still,
baron," said Monte Cristo, "family griefs, or indeed any other
affliction which would crush a man whose child was his only treasure, are
endurable to a millionaire. Philosophers may well say, and practical men
will always support the opinion, that money mitigates many trials; and if
you admit the efficacy of this sovereign balm, you ought to be very easily
consoled--you, the king of finance, the focus of immeasurable power."
Danglars
looked at him askance, as though to ascertain whether he spoke seriously.
"Yes," he answered, "if a fortune brings consolation, I
ought to be consoled; I am rich." "So
rich, dear sir, that your fortune resembles the pyramids; if you wished to
demolish them you could not, and if it were possible, you would not
dare!" Danglars smiled at the good-natured pleasantry of the count.
"That reminds me," he said, "that when you entered I was on
the point of signing five little bonds; I have already signed two: will
you allow me to do the same to the others?" "Pray
do so." There
was a moment's silence, during which the noise of the banker's pen was
alone heard, while Monte Cristo examined the gilt mouldings on the
ceiling. "Are they Spanish, Haitian, or Neapolitan bonds?" said
Monte Cristo. "No," said Danglars, smiling, "they are bonds
on the bank of France, payable to bearer. Stay, count," he added,
"you, who may he called the emperor, if I claim the title of king of
finance, have you many pieces of paper of this size, each worth a
million?" The count took into his hands the papers, which Danglars
had so proudly presented to him, and read:-- "To
the Governor of the Bank. Please pay to my order, from the fund deposited
by me, the sum of a million, and charge the same to my account. "BARON
DANGLARS." "One,
two, three, four, five," said Monte Cristo; "five millions--why
what a Croesus you are!" "This
is how I transact business," said Danglars. "It
is really wonderful," said the count; "above all, if, as I
suppose, it is payable at sight." "It
is, indeed, said Danglars. "It
is a fine thing to have such credit; really, it is only in France these
things are done. Five millions on five little scraps of paper!--it must be
seen to be believed." "You
do not doubt it?" "No!"
"You
say so with an accent--stay, you shall be convinced; take my clerk to the
bank, and you will see him leave it with an order on the Treasury for the
same sum." "No,"
said Monte Cristo folding the five notes, "most decidedly not; the
thing is so curious, I will make the experiment myself. I am credited on
you for six millions. I have drawn nine hundred thousand francs, you
therefore still owe me five millions and a hundred thousand francs. I will
take the five scraps of paper that I now hold as bonds, with your
signature alone, and here is a receipt in full for the six millions
between us. I had prepared it beforehand, for I am much in want of money
to-day." And Monte Cristo placed the bonds in his pocket with one
hand, while with the other he held out the receipt to Danglars. If a
thunderbolt had fallen at the banker's feet, he could not have experienced
greater terror. "What,"
he stammered, "do you mean to keep that money? Excuse me, excuse me,
but I owe this money to the charity fund,--a deposit which I promised to
pay this morning." "Oh,
well, then," said Monte Cristo, "I am not particular about these
five notes, pay me in a different form; I wished, from curiosity, to take
these, that I might be able to say that without any advice or preparation
the house of Danglars had paid me five millions without a minute's delay;
it would have been remarkable. But here are your bonds; pay me
differently;" and he held the bonds towards Danglars, who seized them
like a vulture extending its claws to withhold the food that is being
wrested from its grasp. Suddenly he rallied, made a violent effort to
restrain himself, and then a smile gradually widened the features of his
disturbed countenance. "Certainly,"
he said, "your receipt is money." "Oh
dear, yes; and if you were at Rome, the house of Thomson & French
would make no more difficulty about paying the money on my receipt than
you have just done." "Pardon
me, count, pardon me." "Then
I may keep this money?" "Yes,"
said Danglars, while the perspiration started from the roots of his hair.
"Yes, keep it--keep it." Monte
Cristo replaced the notes in his pocket with that indescribable expression
which seemed to say, "Come, reflect; if you repent there is till
time." "No,"
said Danglars, "no, decidedly no; keep my signatures. But you know
none are so formal as bankers in transacting business; I intended this
money for the charity fund, and I seemed to be robbing them if I did not
pay them with these precise bonds. How absurd--as if one crown were not as
good as another. Excuse me;" and he began to laugh loudly, but
nervously. "Certainly,
I excuse you," said Monte Cristo graciously, "and pocket
them." And he placed the bonds in his pocket-book. "But,"
said Danglars, "there is still a sum of one hundred thousand
francs?" "Oh,
a mere nothing," said Monte Cristo. "The balance would come to
about that sum; but keep it, and we shall be quits." "Count."
said Danglars, "are you speaking seriously?" "I
never joke with bankers," said Monte Cristo in a freezing manner,
which repelled impertinence; and he turned to the door, just as the valet
de chambre announced,-- "M.
de Boville, receiver-general of the charities." "Ma
foi!" said Monte Cristo; "I think I arrived just in time to
obtain your signatures, or they would have been disputed with me." Danglars
again became pale, and hastened to conduct the count out. Monte Cristo
exchanged a ceremonious bow with M. de Boville, who was standing in the
waiting-room, and who was introduced into Danglars' room as soon as the
count had left. The count's sad face was illumined by a faint smile, as he
noticed the portfolio which the receiver-general held in his hand. At the
door he found his carriage, and was immediately driven to the bank.
Meanwhile Danglars, repressing all emotion, advanced to meet the
receiver-general. We need not say that a smile of condescension was
stamped upon his lips. "Good-morning, creditor," said he;
"for I wager anything it is the creditor who visits me." "You
are right, baron," answered M. de Boville; "the charities
present themselves to you through me: the widows and orphans depute me to
receive alms to the amount of five millions from you." "And
yet they say orphans are to be pitied," said Danglars, wishing to
prolong the jest. "Poor things!" "Here
I am in their name," said M. de Boville; "but did you receive my
letter yesterday?" "Yes."
"I
have brought my receipt." "My
dear M. de Boville, your widows and orphans must oblige me by waiting
twenty-four hours, since M. de Monte Cristo whom you just saw leaving
here--you did see him, I think?" "Yes;
well?" "Well,
M. de Monte Cristo has just carried off their five millions." "How
so?" "The
count has an unlimited credit upon me; a credit opened by Thomson &
French, of Rome; he came to demand five millions at once, which I paid him
with checks on the bank. My funds are deposited there, and you can
understand that if I draw out ten millions on the same day it will appear
rather strange to the governor. Two days will be a different thing,"
said Danglars, smiling. "Come,"
said Boville, with a tone of entire incredulity, "five millions to
that gentleman who just left, and who bowed to me as though he knew
me?" "Perhaps
he knows you, though you do not know him; M. de Monte Cristo knows
everybody." "Five
millions!" "Here
is his receipt. Believe your own eyes." M. de Boville took the paper
Danglars presented him, and read:-- "Received
of Baron Danglars the sum of five million one hundred thousand francs, to
be repaid on demand by the house of Thomson & French of Rome." "It
is really true," said M. de Boville. "Do
you know the house of Thomson & French?" "Yes,
I once had business to transact with it to the amount of 200,000 francs;
but since then I have not heard it mentioned." "It
is one of the best houses in Europe," said Danglars, carelessly
throwing down the receipt on his desk. "And
he had five millions in your hands alone! Why, this Count of Monte Cristo
must be a nabob?" "Indeed
I do not know what he is; he has three unlimited credits--one on me, one
on Rothschild, one on Lafitte; and, you see," he added carelessly,
"he has given me the preference, by leaving a balance of 100,000
francs." M. de Boville manifested signs of extraordinary admiration.
"I must visit him," he said, "and obtain some pious grant
from him." "Oh,
you may make sure of him; his charities alone amount to 20,000 francs a
month." "It
is magnificent! I will set before him the example of Madame de Morcerf and
her son." "What
example?" "They
gave all their fortune to the hospitals." "What
fortune?" "Their
own--M. de Morcerf's, who is deceased." "For
what reason?" "Because
they would not spend money so guiltily acquired." "And
what are they to live upon?" "The
mother retires into the country, and the son enters the army." "Well,
I must confess, these are scruples." "I
registered their deed of gift yesterday." "And
how much did they possess?" "Oh,
not much--from twelve to thirteen hundred thousand francs. But to return
to our millions." "Certainly,"
said Danglars, in the most natural tone in the world. "Are you then
pressed for this money?" "Yes;
for the examination of our cash takes place to-morrow." "To-morrow?
Why did you not tell me so before? Why, it is as good as a century! At
what hour does the examination take place?" "At
two o'clock." "Send
at twelve," said Danglars, smiling. M. de Boville said nothing, but
nodded his head, and took up the portfolio. "Now I think of it, you
can do better," said Danglars. "How
do you mean?" "The
receipt of M. de Monte Cristo is as good as money; take it to Rothschild's
or Lafitte's, and they will take it off your hands at once." "What,
though payable at Rome?" "Certainly;
it will only cost you a discount of 5,000 or 6,000 francs." The
receiver started back. "Ma
foi!" he said, "I prefer waiting till to-morrow. What a
proposition!" "I
thought, perhaps," said Danglars with supreme impertinence,
"that you had a deficiency to make up?" "Indeed,"
said the receiver. "And
if that were the case it would be worth while to make some
sacrifice." "Thank
you, no, sir " "Then
it will be to-morrow." "Yes;
but without fail." "Ah,
you are laughing at me; send to-morrow at twelve, and the bank shall be
notified." "I
will come myself." "Better
still, since it will afford me the pleasure of seeing you." They
shook hands. "By the way," said M. de Boville, "are you not
going to the funeral of poor Mademoiselle de Villefort, which I met on my
road here?" "No,"
said the banker; "I have appeared rather ridiculous since that affair
of Benedetto, so I remain in the background." "Bah,
you are wrong. How were you to blame in that affair?" "Listen--when
one bears an irreproachable name, as I do, one is rather sensitive." "Everybody
pities you, sir; and, above all, Mademoiselle Danglars!" "Poor
Eugижnie!"
said Danglars; "do you know she is going to embrace a religious
life?" "No."
"Alas,
it is unhappily but too true. The day after the event, she decided on
leaving Paris with a nun of her acquaintance; they are gone to seek a very
strict convent in Italy or Spain." "Oh,
it is terrible!" and M. de Boville retired with this exclamation,
after expressing acute sympathy with the father. But he had scarcely left
before Danglars, with an energy of action those can alone understand who
have seen Robert Macaire represented by Frederic, [1]
exclaimed,--"Fool!" Then enclosing Monte Cristo's receipt in a
little pocket-book, he added:--"Yes, come at twelve o'clock; I shall
then be far away." Then he double-locked his door, emptied all his
drawers, collected about fifty thousand francs in bank-notes, burned
several papers, left others exposed to view, and then commenced writing a
letter which he addressed: "To
Madame la Baronne Danglars." "I
will place it on her table myself to-night," he murmured. Then taking
a passport from his drawer he said,--"Good, it is available for two
months longer." |
|||||
|
©2005 - 2010 XiuSha.Com . All Rights Reserved.