The evening of the day on which the Count of Morcerf hadleft Danglars' house with feelings of shame and anger at therejection of the projected alliance, M. Andrea Cavalcanti,with curled hair, mustaches in perfect order, and whitegloves which fitted admirably, had entered the courtyard ofthe banker's house in La Chaussee d'Antin. He had not beenmore than ten minutes in the drawing-room before he drewDanglars aside into the recess of a bow-window, and, afteran ingenious preamble, related to him all his anxieties andcares since his noble father's departure. He acknowledgedthe extreme kindness which had been shown him by thebanker's family, in which he had been received as a son, andwhere, besides, his warmest affections had found an objecton which to centre in Mademoiselle Danglars. Danglarslistened with the most profound attention; he had expectedthis declaration for the last two or three days, and when atlast it came his eyes glistened as much as they had loweredon listening to Morcerf. He would not, however, yieldimmediately to the young man's request, but made a fewconscientious objections. "Are you not rather young, M.Andrea, to think of marrying?"

"I think not, sir," replied M. Cavalcanti; "in Italy thenobility generally marry young. Life is so uncertain, thatwe ought to secure happiness while it is within our reach."

"Well, sir," said Danglars, "in case your proposals, whichdo me honor, are accepted by my wife and daughter, by whomshall the preliminary arrangements be settled? So importanta negotiation should, I think, be conducted by therespective fathers of the young people."

"Sir, my father is a man of great foresight and prudence.Thinking that I might wish to settle in France, he left meat his departure, together with the papers establishing myidentity, a letter promising, if he approved of my choice,150,000 livres per annum from the day I was married. So faras I can judge, I suppose this to be a quarter of myfather's revenue."

"I," said Danglars, "have always intended giving my daughter500,000 francs as her dowry; she is, besides, my soleheiress."

"All would then be easily arranged if the baroness and herdaughter are willing. We should command an annuity of175,000 livres. Supposing, also, I should persuade themarquis to give me my capital, which is not likely, butstill is possible, we would place these two or threemillions in your hands, whose talent might make it realizeten per cent."

"I never give more than four per cent, and generally onlythree and a half; but to my son-in-law I would give five,and we would share the profit."

"Very good, father-in-law," said Cavalcanti, yielding to hislow-born nature, which would escape sometimes through thearistocratic gloss with which he sought to conceal it.Correcting himself immediately, he said, "Excuse me, sir;hope alone makes me almost mad, - what will not realitydo?"

"But," said Danglars, - who, on his part, did not perceivehow soon the conversation, which was at first disinterested,was turning to a business transaction, - "there is,doubtless, a part of your fortune your father could notrefuse you?"

"Which?" asked the young man.

"That you inherit from your mother."

"Truly, from my mother, Leonora Corsinari."

"How much may it amount to?"

"Indeed, sir," said Andrea, "I assure you I have never giventhe subject a thought, but I suppose it must have been atleast two millions." Danglars felt as much overcome with joyas the miser who finds a lost treasure, or as theshipwrecked mariner who feels himself on solid groundinstead of in the abyss which he expected would swallow himup.

"Well, sir," said Andrea, bowing to the banker respectfully,"may I hope?"

"You may not only hope," said Danglars, "but consider it asettled thing, if no obstacle arises on your part."

"I am, indeed, rejoiced," said Andrea.

"But," said Danglars thoughtfully, "how is it that yourpatron, M. de Monte Cristo, did not make his proposal foryou?" Andrea blushed imperceptibly. "I have just left thecount, sir," said he; "he is, doubtless, a delightful manbut inconceivably peculiar in his ideas. He esteems mehighly. He even told me he had not the slightest doubt thatmy father would give me the capital instead of the interestof my property. He has promised to use his influence toobtain it for me; but he also declared that he never hadtaken on himself the responsibility of making proposals foranother, and he never would. I must, however, do him thejustice to add that he assured me if ever he had regrettedthe repugnance he felt to such a step it was on thisoccasion, because he thought the projected union would be ahappy and suitable one. Besides, if he will do nothingofficially, he will answer any questions you propose to him.And now," continued he, with one of his most charmingsmiles, "having finished talking to the father-in-law, Imust address myself to the banker."

"And what may you have to say to him?" said Danglars,laughing in his turn.

"That the day after to-morrow I shall have to draw upon youfor about four thousand francs; but the count, expecting mybachelor's revenue could not suffice for the coming month'soutlay, has offered me a draft for twenty thousand francs.It bears his signature, as you see, which isall-sufficient."

"Bring me a million such as that," said Danglars, "I shallbe well pleased," putting the draft in his pocket. "Fix yourown hour for to-morrow, and my cashier shall call on youwith a check for eighty thousand francs."

"At ten o'clock then, if you please; I should like it early,as I am going into the country to-morrow."

"Very well, at ten o'clock;, you are still at the Hotel desPrinces?"

"Yes."

The following morning, with the banker's usual punctuality,the eighty thousand francs were placed in the young man'shands as he was on the point of starting, after having lefttwo hundred francs for Caderousse. He went out chiefly toavoid this dangerous enemy, and returned as late as possiblein the evening. But scarcely had be stepped out of hiscarriage when the porter met him with a parcel in his hand."Sir," said he, "that man has been here."

"What man?" said Andrea carelessly, apparently forgettinghim whom he but too well recollected.

"Him to whom your excellency pays that little annuity."

"Oh," said Andrea, "my father's old servant. Well, you gavehim the two hundred francs I had left for him?"

"Yes, your excellency." Andrea had expressed a wish to bethus addressed. "But," continued the porter, "he would nottake them." Andrea turned pale, but as it was dark hispallor was not perceptible. "What? he would not take them?"said he with slight emotion.

"No, he wished to speak to your excellency; I told him youwere gone out, and after some dispute he believed me andgave me this letter, which he had brought with him alreadysealed."

"Give it me," said Andrea, and he read by the light of hiscarriage-lamp, - "You know where I live; I expect youtomorrow morning at nine o'clock."

Andrea examined it carefully, to ascertain if the letter hadbeen opened, or if any indiscreet eyes had seen itscontents; but it was so carefully folded, that no one couldhave read it, and the seal was perfect. "Very well," saidhe. "Poor man, he is a worthy creature." He left the porterto ponder on these words, not knowing which most to admire,the master or the servant. "Take out the horses quickly, andcome up to me," said Andrea to his groom. In two seconds theyoung man had reached his room and burnt Caderousse'sletter. The servant entered just as he had finished. "Youare about my height, Pierre," said he.

"I have that honor, your excellency."

"You had a new livery yesterday?"

"Yes, sir."

"I have an engagement with a pretty little girl for thisevening, and do not wish to be known; lend me your liverytill to-morrow. I may sleep, perhaps, at an inn." Pierreobeyed. Five minutes after, Andrea left the hotel,completely disguised, took a cabriolet, and ordered thedriver to take him to the Cheval Rouge, at Picpus. The nextmorning he left that inn as he had left the Hotel desPrinces, without being noticed, walked down the Faubourg St.Antoine, along the boulevard to Rue Menilmontant, andstopping at the door of the third house on the left lookedfor some one of whom to make inquiry in the porter'sabsence. "For whom are you looking, my fine fellow?" askedthe fruiteress on the opposite side.

"Monsieur Pailletin, if you please, my good woman," repliedAndrea.

"A retired baker?" asked the fruiteress.

"Exactly."

"He lives at the end of the yard, on the left, on the thirdstory." Andrea went as she directed him, and on the thirdfloor he found a hare's paw, which, by the hasty ringing ofthe bell, it was evident he pulled with considerableill-temper. A moment after Caderousse's face appeared at thegrating in the door. "Ah, you are punctual," said he, as hedrew back the door.

"Confound you and your punctuality!" said Andrea, throwinghimself into a chair in a manner which implied that he wouldrather have flung it at the head of his host.

"Come, come, my little fellow, don't be angry. See, I havethought about you - look at the good breakfast we are goingto have; nothing but what you are fond of." Andrea, indeed,inhaled the scent of something cooking which was notunwelcome to him, hungry as he was; it was that mixture offat and garlic peculiar to provincial kitchens of aninferior order, added to that of dried fish, and above all,the pungent smell of musk and cloves. These odors escapedfrom two deep dishes which were covered and placed on astove, and from a copper pan placed in an old iron pot. Inan adjoining room Andrea saw also a tolerably clean tableprepared for two, two bottles of wine sealed, the one withgreen, the other with yellow, a supply of brandy in adecanter, and a measure of fruit in a cabbage-leaf, cleverlyarranged on an earthenware plate.

"What do you think of it, my little fellow?" saidCaderousse. "Ay, that smells good! You know I used to be afamous cook; do you recollect how you used to lick yourfingers? You were among the first who tasted any of mydishes, and I think you relished them tolerably." Whilespeaking, Caderousse went on peeling a fresh supply ofonions.

"But," said Andrea, ill-temperedly, "by my faith, if it wasonly to breakfast with you, that you disturbed me, I wishthe devil had taken you!"

"My boy," said Caderousse sententiously, "one can talk whileeating. And then, you ungrateful being, you are not pleasedto see an old friend? I am weeping with joy." He was trulycrying, but it would have been difficult to say whether joyor the onions produced the greatest effect on the lachrymalglands of the old inn-keeper of the Pont-du-Gard. "Hold yourtongue, hypocrite," said Andrea; "you love me!"

"Yes, I do, or may the devil take me. I know it is aweakness," said Caderousse, "but it overpowers me."

"And yet it has not prevented your sending for me to play mesome trick."

"Come," said Caderousse, wiping his large knife on hisapron, "if I did not like you, do you think I should endurethe wretched life you lead me? Think for a moment. You haveyour servant's clothes on - you therefore keep a servant; Ihave none, and am obliged to prepare my own meals. You abusemy cookery because you dine at the table d'hote of the Hoteldes Princes, or the Cafe de Paris. Well, I too could keep aservant; I too could have a tilbury; I too could dine whereI like; but why do I not? Because I would not annoy mylittle Benedetto. Come, just acknowledge that I could, eh?"This address was accompanied by a look which was by no meansdifficult to understand. "Well," said Andrea, "admittingyour love, why do you want me to breakfast with you?"

"That I may have the pleasure of seeing you, my littlefellow."

"What is the use of seeing me after we have made all ourarrangements?"

"Eh, dear friend," said Caderousse, "are wills ever madewithout codicils? But you first came to breakfast, did younot? Well, sit down, and let us begin with these pilchards,and this fresh butter; which I have put on some vine-leavesto please you, wicked one. Ah, yes; you look at my room, myfour straw chairs, my images, three francs each. But what doyou expect? This is not the Hotel des Princes."

"Come, you are growing discontented, you are no longerhappy; you, who only wish to live like a retired baker."Caderousse sighed. "Well, what have you to say? you haveseen your dream realized."

"I can still say it is a dream; a retired baker, my poorBenedetto, is rich - he has an annuity."

"Well, you have an annuity."

"I have?"

"Yes, since I bring you your two hundred francs." Caderousseshrugged his shoulders. "It is humiliating," said he, "thusto receive money given grudgingly, - -an uncertain supplywhich may soon fail. You see I am obliged to economize, incase your prosperity should cease. Well, my friend, fortuneis inconstant, as the chaplain of the regiment said. I knowyour prosperity is great, you rascal; you are to marry thedaughter of Danglars."

"What? of Danglars?"

"Yes, to be sure; must I say Baron Danglars? I might as wellsay Count Benedetto. He was an old friend of mine and if hehad not so bad a memory he ought to invite me to yourwedding, seeing he came to mine. Yes, yes, to mine; gad, hewas not so proud then, - he was an under-clerk to the goodM. Morrel. I have dined many times with him and the Count ofMorcerf, so you see I have some high connections and were Ito cultivate them a little, we might meet in the samedrawing-rooms."

"Come, your jealousy represents everything to you in thewrong light."

"That is all very fine, Benedetto mio, but I know what I amsaying. Perhaps I may one day put on my best coat, andpresenting myself at the great gate, introduce myself.Meanwhile let us sit down and eat." Caderousse set theexample and attacked the breakfast with good appetite,praising each dish he set before his visitor. The latterseemed to have resigned himself; he drew the corks, andpartook largely of the fish with the garlic and fat. "Ah,mate," said Caderousse, "you are getting on better termswith your old landlord!"

"Faith, yes," replied Andrea, whose hunger prevailed overevery other feeling.

"So you like it, you rogue?"

"So much that I wonder how a man who can cook thus cancomplain of hard living."

"Do you see," said Caderousse, "all my happiness is marredby one thought?"

"What is that?"

"That I am dependent on another, I who have always gained myown livelihood honestly."

"Do not let that disturb you, I have enough for two."

"No, truly; you may believe me if you will; at the end ofevery month I am tormented by remorse."

"Good Caderousse!"

"So much so, that yesterday I would not take the two hundredfrancs."

"Yes, you wished to speak to me; but was it indeed remorse,tell me?"

"True remorse; and, besides, an idea had struck me." Andreashuddered; he always did so at Caderousse's ideas. "It ismiserable - do you see? - always to wait till the end ofthe month. - "Oh," said Andrea philosophically, determinedto watch his companion narrowly, "does not life pass inwaiting? Do I, for instance, fare better? Well, I waitpatiently, do I not?"

"Yes; because instead of expecting two hundred wretchedfrancs, you expect five or six thousand, perhaps ten,perhaps even twelve, for you take care not to let any oneknow the utmost. Down there, you always had little presentsand Christmas-boxes which you tried to hide from your poorfriend Caderousse. Fortunately he is a cunning fellow, thatfriend Caderousse."

"There you are beginning again to ramble, to talk again andagain of the past! But what is the use of teasing me withgoing all over that again?"

"Ah, you are only one and twenty, and can forget the past; Iam fifty, and am obliged to recollect it. But let us returnto business."

"Yes."

"I was going to say, if I were in your place" -

"Well."

"I would realize" -

"How would you realize?"

"I would ask for six months' in advance, under pretence ofbeing able to purchase a farm, then with my six months Iwould decamp."

"Well, well," said Andrea, "that isn't a bad idea."

"My dear friend," said Caderousse, "eat of my bread, andtake my advice; you will be none the worse off, physicallyor morally."

"But," said Andrea, "why do you not act on the advice yougave me? Why do you not realize a six months', a year'sadvance even, and retire to Brussels? Instead of living theretired baker, you might live as a bankrupt, using hisprivileges; that would be very good."

"But how the devil would you have me retire on twelvehundred francs?"

"Ah, Caderousse," said Andrea, "how covetous you are! Twomonths ago you were dying with hunger."

"The appetite grows by what it feeds on," said Caderousse,grinning and showing his teeth, like a monkey laughing or atiger growling. "And," added he, biting off with his largewhite teeth an enormous mouthful of bread, "I have formed aplan." Caderousse's plans alarmed Andrea still more than hisideas; ideas were but the germ, the plan was reality. "Letme see your plan; I dare say it is a pretty one."

"Why not? Who formed the plan by which we left theestablishment of M - - ! eh? was it not I? and it was nobad one I believe, since here we are!"

"I do not say," replied Andrea, "that you never make a goodone; but let us see your plan."

"Well," pursued Caderousse, "can you without expending onesou, put me in the way of getting fifteen thousand francs?No, fifteen thousand are not enough, - I cannot againbecome an honest man with less than thirty thousand francs."

"No," replied Andrea, dryly, "no, I cannot."

"I do not think you understand me," replied Caderousse,calmly; "I said without your laying out a sou."

"Do you want me to commit a robbery, to spoil all my goodfortune - and yours with mine - and both of us to bedragged down there again?"

"It would make very little difference to me," saidCaderousse, "if I were retaken, I am a poor creature to livealone, and sometimes pine for my old comrades; not like you,heartless creature, who would be glad never to see themagain." Andrea did more than tremble this time, he turnedpale.

"Come, Caderousse, no nonsense!" said he.

"Don't alarm yourself, my little Benedetto, but just pointout to me some means of gaining those thirty thousand francswithout your assistance, and I will contrive it."

"Well, I'll see - I'll try to contrive some way," saidAndrea.

"Meanwhile you will raise my monthly allowance to fivehundred francs, my little fellow? I have a fancy, and meanto get a housekeeper."

"Well, you shall have your five hundred francs," saidAndrea; "but it is very hard for me, my poor Caderousse - you take advantage" -

"Bah," said Caderousse, "when you have access to countlessstores." One would have said Andrea anticipated hiscompanion's words, so did his eye flash like lightning, butit was but for a moment. "True," he replied, "and myprotector is very kind."

"That dear protector," said Caderousse; "and how much doeshe give you monthly?"

"Five thousand francs."

"As many thousands as you give me hundreds! Truly, it isonly bastards who are thus fortunate. Five thousand francsper month! What the devil can you do with all that?"

"Oh, it is no trouble to spend that; and I am like you, Iwant capital."

"Capital? - yes - I understand - every one would likecapital."

"Well, and I shall get it."

"Who will give it to you - your prince?"

"Yes, my prince. But unfortunately I must wait."

"You must wait for what?" asked Caderousse.

"For his death "

"The death of your prince?"

"Yes."

"How so?"

"Because he has made his will in my favor."

"Indeed?"

"On my honor."

"For how much?"

"For five hundred thousand."

"Only that? It's little enough "

"But so it is."

"No it cannot be!"

"Are you my friend, Caderousse?"

"Yes, in life or death."

"Well, I will tell you a secret."

"What is it?"

"But remember" -

"Ah, pardieu, mute as a carp."

"Well, I think" - Andrea stopped and looked around.

"You think? Do not fear; pardieu, we are alone."

"I think I have discovered my father."

"Your true father?"

"Yes."

"Not old Cavalcanti?"

"No, for he has gone again; the true one, as you say."

"And that father is" -

"Well, Caderousse, it is Monte Cristo."

"Bah!"

"Yes, you understand, that explains all. He cannotacknowledge me openly, it appears, but he does it through M.Cavalcanti, and gives him fifty thousand francs for it."

"Fifty thousand francs for being your father? I would havedone it for half that, for twenty thousand, for fifteenthousand; why did you not think of me, ungrateful man?"

"Did I know anything about it, when it was all done when Iwas down there?"

"Ah, truly? And you say that by his will" -

"He leaves me five hundred thousand livres."

"Are you sure of it?"

"He showed it me; but that is not all - there is a codicil,as I said just now."

"Probably."

"And in that codicil he acknowledges me."

"Oh, the good father, the brave father, the very honestfather!" said Caderousse, twirling a plate in the airbetween his two hands.

"Now say if I conceal anything from you?"

"No, and your confidence makes you honorable in my opinion;and your princely father, is he rich, very rich?"

"Yes, he is that; he does not himself know the amount of hisfortune."

"Is it possible?"

"It is evident enough to me, who am always at his house. Theother day a banker's clerk brought him fifty thousand francsin a portfolio about the size of your plate; yesterday hisbanker brought him a hundred thousand francs in gold."Caderousse was filled with wonder; the young man's wordssounded to him like metal, and he thought he could hear therushing of cascades of louis. "And you go into that house?"cried he briskly.

"When I like."

Caderousse was thoughtful for a moment. It was easy toperceive he was revolving some unfortunate idea in his mind.Then suddenly, - "How I should like to see all that," criedhe; "how beautiful it must be!"

"It is, in fact, magnificent," said Andrea.

"And does he not live in the Champs-Elysees?"

"Yes, No. 30."

"Ah," said Caderousse, "No. 30."

"Yes, a fine house standing alone, between a court-yard anda garden, - you must know it."

"Possibly; but it is not the exterior I care for, it is theinterior. What beautiful furniture there must be in it!"

"Have you ever seen the Tuileries?"

"No."

"Well, it surpasses that."

"It must be worth one's while to stoop, Andrea, when thatgood M. Monte Cristo lets fall his purse."

"It is not worth while to wait for that," said Andrea;"money is as plentiful in that house as fruit in anorchard."

"But you should take me there one day with you."

"How can I? On what plea?"

"You are right; but you have made my mouth water. I mustabsolutely see it; I shall find a way."

"No nonsense, Caderousse!"

"I will offer myself as floor-polisher."

"The rooms are all carpeted."

"Well, then, I must be contented to imagine it."

"That is the best plan, believe me."

"Try, at least, to give me an idea of what it is."

"How can I?"

"Nothing is easier. Is it large?"

"Middling."

"How is it arranged?"

"Faith, I should require pen, ink, and paper to make aplan."

"They are all here," said Caderousse, briskly. He fetchedfrom an old secretary a sheet of white paper and pen andink. "Here," said Caderousse, "draw me all that on thepaper, my boy." Andrea took the pen with an imperceptiblesmile and began. "The house, as I said, is between the courtand the garden; in this way, do you see?" Andrea drew thegarden, the court and the house.

"High walls?"

"Not more than eight or ten feet."

"That is not prudent," said Caderousse.

"In the court are orange-trees in pots, turf, and clumps offlowers."

"And no steel-traps?"

"No."

"The stables?"

"Are on either side of the gate, which you see there." AndAndrea continued his plan.

"Let us see the ground floor," said Caderousse.

"On the ground-floor, dining-room, two drawing-rooms,billiard-room, staircase in the hall, and a little backstaircase."

"Windows?"

"Magnificent windows, so beautiful, so large, that I believea man of your size should pass through each frame."

"Why the devil have they any stairs with such windows?"

"Luxury has everything."

"But shutters?"

"Yes, but they are never used. That Count of Monte Cristo isan original, who loves to look at the sky even at night."

"And where do the servants sleep?"

"Oh, they have a house to themselves. Picture to yourself apretty coach-house at the right-hand side where the laddersare kept. Well, over that coach-house are the servants'rooms, with bells corresponding with the differentapartments."

"Ah, diable - bells did you say?"

"What do you mean?"

"Oh. nothing! I only say they cost a load of money to hang,and what is the use of them, I should like to know?"

"There used to be a dog let loose in the yard at night, butit has been taken to the house at Auteuil, to that you wentto, you know."

"Yes."

"I was saying to him only yesterday, `You are imprudent,Monsieur Count; for when you go to Auteuil and take yourservants the house is left unprotected.' Well,' said he,`what next?' `Well, next, some day you will be robbed.'"

"What did he answer?"

"He quietly said, `What do I care if I am?'"

"Andrea, he has some secretary with a spring."

"How do you know?"

"Yes, which catches the thief in a trap and plays a tune. Iwas told there were such at the last exhibition."

"He has simply a mahogany secretary, in which the key isalways kept."

"And he is not robbed?"

"No; his servants are all devoted to him."

"There ought to be some money in that secretary?"

"There may be. No one knows what there is."

"And where is it?"

"On the first floor."

"Sketch me the plan of that floor, as you have done of theground floor, my boy."

"That is very simple." Andrea took the pen. "On the firststory, do you see, there is the anteroom and thedrawing-room; to the right of the drawing-room, a libraryand a study; to the left, a bedroom and a dressing-room. Thefamous secretary is in the dressing-room."

"Is there a window in the dressing-room?"

"Two, - one here and one there." Andrea sketched twowindows in the room, which formed an angle on the plan, andappeared as a small square added to the rectangle of thebedroom. Caderousse became thoughtful. "Does he often go toAuteuil?" added he.

"Two or three times a week. To-morrow, for instance, he isgoing to spend the day and night there."

"Are you sure of it?"

"He has invited me to dine there."

"There's a life for you," said Caderousse; "a town house anda country house."

"That is what it is to be rich."

"And shall you dine there?"

"Probably."

"When you dine there, do you sleep there?"

"If I like; I am at home there." Caderousse looked at theyoung man, as if to get at the truth from the bottom of hisheart. But Andrea drew a cigar-case from his pocket, took ahavana, quietly lit it, and began smoking. "When do you wantyour twelve hundred francs?" said he to Caderousse.

"Now, if you have them." Andrea took five and twenty louisfrom his pocket.

"Yellow boys?" said Caderousse; "no, I thank you."

"Oh, you despise them."

"On the contrary, I esteem them, but will not have them."

"You can change them, idiot; gold is worth five sous."

"Exactly; and he who changes them will follow friendCaderousse, lay hands on him, and demand what farmers payhim their rent in gold. No nonsense, my good fellow; silversimply, round coins with the head of some monarch or otheron them. Anybody may possess a five-franc piece."

"But do you suppose I carry five hundred francs about withme? I should want a porter."

"Well, leave them with your porter; he is to be trusted. Iwill call for them."

"To-day?"

"No, to-morrow; I shall not have time to day."

"Well, to-morrow I will leave them when I go to Auteuil."

"May I depend on it?"

"Certainly."

"Because I shall secure my housekeeper on the strength ofit."

"Now see here, will that be all? Eh? And will you nottorment me any more?"

"Never." Caderousse had become so gloomy that Andrea fearedhe should be obliged to notice the change. He redoubled hisgayety and carelessness. "How sprightly you are," saidCaderousse; "One would say you were already in possession ofyour property."

"No, unfortunately; but when I do obtain it" -

"Well?"

"I shall remember old friends, I can tell you that."

"Yes, since you have such a good memory."

"What do you want? It looks as if you were trying to fleeceme?"

"I? What an idea! I, who am going to give you another pieceof good advice."

"What is it?"

"To leave behind you the diamond you have on your finger. Weshall both get into trouble. You will ruin both yourself andme by your folly."

"How so?" said Andrea.

"How? You put on a livery, you disguise yourself as aservant, and yet keep a diamond on your finger worth four orfive thousand francs."

"You guess well."

"I know something of diamonds; I have had some."

"You do well to boast of it," said Andrea, who, withoutbecoming angry, as Caderousse feared, at this new extortion,quietly resigned the ring. Caderousse looked so closely atit that Andrea well knew that he was examining to see if allthe edges were perfect.

"It is a false diamond," said Caderousse.

"You are joking now," replied Andrea.

"Do not be angry, we can try it." Caderousse went to thewindow, touched the glass with it, and found it would cut.

"Confiteor," said Caderousse, putting the diamond on hislittle finger; "I was mistaken; but those thieves ofjewellers imitate so well that it is no longer worth whileto rob a jeweller's shop - it is another branch of industryparalyzed."

"Have you finished?" said Andrea, - "do you want anythingmore? - will you have my waistcoat or my hat? Make free,now you have begun."

"No; you are, after all, a good companion; I will not detainyou, and will try to cure myself of my ambition."

"But take care the same thing does not happen to you inselling the diamond you feared with the gold."

"I shall not sell it - do not fear."

"Not at least till the day after to-morrow," thought theyoung man.

"Happy rogue," said Caderousse; "you are going to find yourservants, your horses, your carriage, and your betrothed!"

"Yes," said Andrea.

"Well, I hope you will make a handsome wedding-present theday you marry Mademoiselle Danglars."

"I have already told you it is a fancy you have taken inyour head."

"What fortune has she?"

"But I tell you" -

"A million?" Andrea shrugged his shoulders.

"Let it be a million," said Caderousse; "you can never haveso much as I wish you."

"Thank you," said the young man.

"Oh, I wish it you with all my heart!" added Caderousse withhis hoarse laugh. "Stop, let me show you the way."

"It is not worth while."

"Yes, it is."

"Why?"

"Because there is a little secret, a precaution I thought itdesirable to take, one of Huret & Fitchet's locks, revisedand improved by Gaspard Caderousse; I will manufacture you asimilar one when you are a capitalist."

"Thank you," said Andrea; "I will let you know a weekbeforehand." They parted. Caderousse remained on the landinguntil he had not only seen Andrea go down the three stories,but also cross the court. Then he returned hastily, shut hisdoor carefully, and began to study, like a clever architect,the plan Andrea had left him.

"Dear Benedetto," said he, "I think he will not be sorry toinherit his fortune, and he who hastens the day when he cantouch his five hundred thousand will not be his worstfriend."