Part 69 (1/2)
”Very likely,” said Albert.
”And who can that person be who has taken it into his head to wrap himself up in a blue coat embroidered with green?”
”Oh, that coat is not his own idea; it is the Republic's, which deputed David [*] to devise a uniform for the Academicians.”
* Louis David, a famous French painter.
”Indeed?” said Monte Cristo; ”so this gentleman is an Academician?”
”Within the last week he has been made one of the learned a.s.sembly.”
”And what is his especial talent?”
”His talent? I believe he thrusts pins through the heads of rabbits, he makes fowls eat madder, and punches the spinal marrow out of dogs with whalebone.”
”And he is made a member of the Academy of Sciences for this?”
”No; of the French Academy.”
”But what has the French Academy to do with all this?”
”I was going to tell you. It seems”-- ”That his experiments have very considerably advanced the cause of science, doubtless?”
”No; that his style of writing is very good.”
”This must be very flattering to the feelings of the rabbits into whose heads he has thrust pins, to the fowls whose bones he has dyed red, and to the dogs whose spinal marrow he has punched out?”
Albert laughed.
”And the other one?” demanded the count.
”That one?”
”Yes, the third.”
”The one in the dark blue coat?”
”Yes.”
”He is a colleague of the count, and one of the most active opponents to the idea of providing the Chamber of Peers with a uniform. He was very successful upon that question. He stood badly with the Liberal papers, but his n.o.ble opposition to the wishes of the court is now getting him into favor with the journalists. They talk of making him an amba.s.sador.”
”And what are his claims to the peerage?”
”He has composed two or three comic operas, written four or five articles in the Siecle, and voted five or six years on the ministerial side.”
”Bravo, Viscount,” said Monte Cristo, smiling; ”you are a delightful cicerone. And now you will do me a favor, will you not?”
”What is it?”
”Do not introduce me to any of these gentlemen; and should they wish it, you will warn me.” Just then the count felt his arm pressed. He turned round; it was Danglars.
”Ah, is it you, baron?” said he.
”Why do you call me baron?” said Danglars; ”you know that I care nothing for my t.i.tle. I am not like you, viscount; you like your t.i.tle, do you not?”
”Certainly,” replied Albert, ”seeing that without my t.i.tle I should be nothing; while you, sacrificing the baron, would still remain the millionaire.”
”Which seems to me the finest t.i.tle under the royalty of July,” replied Danglars.
”Unfortunately,” said Monte Cristo, ”one's t.i.tle to a millionaire does not last for life, like that of baron, peer of France, or Academician; for example, the millionaires Franck & Poulmann, of Frankfort, who have just become bankrupts.”
”Indeed?” said Danglars, becoming pale.
”Yes; I received the news this evening by a courier. I had about a million in their hands, but, warned in time, I withdrew it a month ago.”
”Ah, mon Dieu,” exclaimed Danglars, ”they have drawn on me for 200,000 francs!”
”Well, you can throw out the draft; their signature is worth five per cent.”
”Yes, but it is too late,” said Danglars, ”I have honored their bills.”
”Then,” said Monte Cristo, ”here are 200,000 francs gone after”-- ”Hush, do not mention these things,” said Danglars; then, approaching Monte Cristo, he added, ”especially before young M. Cavalcanti;” after which he smiled, and turned towards the young man in question. Albert had left the count to speak to his mother, Danglars to converse with young Cavalcanti; Monte Cristo was for an instant alone. Meanwhile the heat became excessive. The footmen were hastening through the rooms with waiters loaded with ices. Monte Cristo wiped the perspiration from his forehead, but drew back when the waiter was presented to him; he took no refreshment. Madame de Morcerf did not lose sight of Monte Cristo; she saw that he took nothing, and even noticed his gesture of refusal.
”Albert,” she asked, ”did you notice that?”
”What, mother?”
”That the count has never been willing to partake of food under the roof of M. de Morcerf.”
”Yes; but then he breakfasted with me--indeed, he made his first appearance in the world on that occasion.”
”But your house is not M. de Morcerf's,” murmured Mercedes; ”and since he has been here I have watched him.”
”Well?”
”Well, he has taken nothing yet.”
”The count is very temperate.” Mercedes smiled sadly. ”Approach him,” said she, ”and when the next waiter pa.s.ses, insist upon his taking something.”
”But why, mother?”
”Just to please me, Albert,” said Mercedes. Albert kissed his mother's hand, and drew near the count. Another salver pa.s.sed, loaded like the preceding ones; she saw Albert attempt to persuade the count, but he obstinately refused. Albert rejoined his mother; she was very pale.
”Well,” said she, ”you see he refuses?”
”Yes; but why need this annoy you?”