We saw in a preceding chapter how Madame Danglars wentformally to announce to Madame de Villefort the approachingmarriage of Eugenie Danglars and M. Andrea Cavalcanti. Thisannouncement, which implied or appeared to imply, theapproval of all the persons concerned in this momentousaffair, had been preceded by a scene to which our readersmust be admitted. We beg them to take one step backward, andto transport themselves, the morning of that day of greatcatastrophes, into the showy, gilded salon we have beforeshown them, and which was the pride of its owner, BaronDanglars. In this room, at about ten o'clock in the morning,the banker himself had been walking to and fro for someminutes thoughtfully and in evident uneasiness, watchingboth doors, and listening to every sound. When his patiencewas exhausted, he called his valet. "Etienne," said he, "seewhy Mademoiselle Eugenie has asked me to meet her in thedrawing-room, and why she makes me wait so long."

Having given this vent to his ill-humor, the baron becamemore calm; Mademoiselle Danglars had that morning requestedan interview with her father, and had fixed on the gildeddrawing-room as the spot. The singularity of this step, andabove all its formality, had not a little surprised thebanker, who had immediately obeyed his daughter by repairingfirst to the drawing-room. Etienne soon returned from hiserrand. "Mademoiselle's lady's maid says, sir, thatmademoiselle is finishing her toilette, and will be hereshortly."

Danglars nodded, to signify that he was satisfied. To theworld and to his servants Danglars assumed the character ofthe good-natured man and the indulgent father. This was oneof his parts in the popular comedy he was performing, - amake-up he had adopted and which suited him about as well asthe masks worn on the classic stage by paternal actors, whoseen from one side, were the image of geniality, and fromthe other showed lips drawn down in chronic ill-temper. Letus hasten to say that in private the genial side descendedto the level of the other, so that generally the indulgentman disappeared to give place to the brutal husband anddomineering father. "Why the devil does that foolish girl,who pretends to wish to speak to me, not come into my study?and why on earth does she want to speak to me at all?"

He was turning this thought over in his brain for thetwentieth time, when the door opened and Eugenie appeared,attired in a figured black satin dress, her hair dressed andgloves on, as if she were going to the Italian Opera. "Well,Eugenie, what is it you want with me? and why in this solemndrawing-room when the study is so comfortable?"

"I quite understand why you ask, sir," said Eugenie, makinga sign that her father might be seated, "and in fact yourtwo questions suggest fully the theme of our conversation. Iwill answer them both, and contrary to the usual method, thelast first, because it is the least difficult. I have chosenthe drawing-room, sir, as our place of meeting, in order toavoid the disagreeable impressions and influences of abanker's study. Those gilded cashbooks, drawers locked likegates of fortresses, heaps of bank-bills, come from I knownot where, and the quantities of letters from England,Holland, Spain, India, China, and Peru, have generally astrange influence on a father's mind, and make him forgetthat there is in the world an interest greater and moresacred than the good opinion of his correspondents. I have,therefore, chosen this drawing-room, where you see, smilingand happy in their magnificent frames, your portrait, mine,my mother's, and all sorts of rural landscapes and touchingpastorals. I rely much on external impressions; perhaps,with regard to you, they are immaterial, but I should be noartist if I had not some fancies."

"Very well," replied M. Danglars, who had listened to allthis preamble with imperturbable coolness, but withoutunderstanding a word, since like every man burdened withthoughts of the past, he was occupied with seeking thethread of his own ideas in those of the speaker.

"There is, then, the second point cleared up, or nearly so,"said Eugenie, without the least confusion, and with thatmasculine pointedness which distinguished her gesture andher language; "and you appear satisfied with theexplanation. Now, let us return to the first. You ask me whyI have requested this interview; I will tell you in twowords, sir; I will not marry count Andrea Cavalcanti."

Danglars leaped from his chair and raised his eyes and armstowards heaven.

"Yes, indeed, sir," continued Eugenie, still quite calm;"you are astonished, I see; for since this little affairbegan, I have not manifested the slightest opposition, andyet I am always sure, when the opportunity arrives, tooppose a determined and absolute will to people who have notconsulted me, and things which displease me. However, thistime, my tranquillity, or passiveness as philosophers say,proceeded from another source; it proceeded from a wish,like a submissive and devoted daughter" (a slight smile wasobservable on the purple lips of the young girl), "topractice obedience."

"Well?" asked Danglars.

"Well, sir," replied Eugenie, "I have tried to the very lastand now that the moment has come, I feel in spite of all myefforts that it is impossible."

"But," said Danglars, whose weak mind was at first quiteoverwhelmed with the weight of this pitiless logic, markingevident premeditation and force of will, "what is yourreason for this refusal, Eugenie? what reason do youassign?"

"My reason?" replied the young girl. "Well, it is not thatthe man is more ugly, more foolish, or more disagreeablethan any other; no, M. Andrea Cavalcanti may appear to thosewho look at men's faces and figures as a very good specimenof his kind. It is not, either, that my heart is lesstouched by him than any other; that would be a schoolgirl'sreason, which I consider quite beneath me. I actually loveno one, sir; you know it, do you not? I do not then see why,without real necessity, I should encumber my life with aperpetual companion. Has not some sage said, `Nothing toomuch'? and another, `I carry all my effects with me'? I havebeen taught these two aphorisms in Latin and in Greek; oneis, I believe, from Phaedrus, and the other from Bias. Well,my dear father, in the shipwreck of life - for life is aneternal shipwreck of our hopes - I cast into the sea myuseless encumbrance, that is all, and I remain with my ownwill, disposed to live perfectly alone, and consequentlyperfectly free."

"Unhappy girl, unhappy girl!" murmured Danglars, turningpale, for he knew from long experience the solidity of theobstacle he had so suddenly encountered.

"Unhappy girl," replied Eugenie, "unhappy girl, do you say,sir? No, indeed; the exclamation appears quite theatricaland affected. Happy, on the contrary, for what am I in wantof! The world calls me beautiful. It is something to be wellreceived. I like a favorable reception; it expands thecountenance, and those around me do not then appear so ugly.I possess a share of wit, and a certain relativesensibility, which enables me to draw from life in general,for the support of mine, all I meet with that is good, likethe monkey who cracks the nut to get at its contents. I amrich, for you have one of the first fortunes in France. I amyour only daughter, and you are not so exacting as thefathers of the Porte Saint-Martin and Gaiete, who disinherittheir daughters for not giving them grandchildren. Besides,the provident law has deprived you of the power todisinherit me, at least entirely, as it has also of thepower to compel me to marry Monsieur This or Monsieur That.And so - being, beautiful, witty, somewhat talented, as thecomic operas say, and rich - and that is happiness, sir - why do you call me unhappy?"

Danglars, seeing his daughter smiling, and proud even toinsolence, could not entirely repress his brutal feelings,but they betrayed themselves only by an exclamation. Underthe fixed and inquiring gaze levelled at him from underthose beautiful black eyebrows, he prudently turned away,and calmed himself immediately, daunted by the power of aresolute mind. "Truly, my daughter," replied he with asmile, "you are all you boast of being, excepting one thing;I will not too hastily tell you which, but would ratherleave you to guess it." Eugenie looked at Danglars, muchsurprised that one flower of her crown of pride, with whichshe had so superbly decked herself, should be disputed. "Mydaughter," continued the banker, "you have perfectlyexplained to me the sentiments which influence a girl likeyou, who is determined she will not marry; now it remainsfor me to tell you the motives of a father like me, who hasdecided that his daughter shall marry." Eugenie bowed, notas a submissive daughter, but as an adversary prepared for adiscussion.

"My daughter," continued Danglars, "when a father asks hisdaughter to choose a husband, he has always some reason forwishing her to marry. Some are affected with the mania ofwhich you spoke just now, that of living again in theirgrandchildren. This is not my weakness, I tell you at once;family joys have no charm for me. I may acknowledge this toa daughter whom I know to be philosophical enough tounderstand my indifference, and not to impute it to me as acrime."

"This is not to the purpose," said Eugenie; "let us speakcandidly, sir; I admire candor."

"Oh," said Danglars, "I can, when circumstances render itdesirable, adopt your system, although it may not be mygeneral practice. I will therefore proceed. I have proposedto you to marry, not for your sake, for indeed I did notthink of you in the least at the moment (you admire candor,and will now be satisfied, I hope); but because it suited meto marry you as soon as possible, on account of certaincommercial speculations I am desirous of entering into."Eugenie became uneasy.

"It is just as I tell you, I assure you, and you must not beangry with me, for you have sought this disclosure. I do notwillingly enter into arithmetical explanations with anartist like you, who fears to enter my study lest she shouldimbibe disagreeable or anti-poetic impressions andsensations. But in that same banker's study, where you verywillingly presented yourself yesterday to ask for thethousand francs I give you monthly for pocket-money, youmust know, my dear young lady, that many things may belearned, useful even to a girl who will not marry. There onemay learn, for instance, what, out of regard to your nervoussusceptibility, I will inform you of in the drawing-room,namely, that the credit of a banker is his physical andmoral life; that credit sustains him as breath animates thebody; and M. de Monte Cristo once gave me a lecture on thatsubject, which I have never forgotten. There we may learnthat as credit sinks, the body becomes a corpse, and this iswhat must happen very soon to the banker who is proud to ownso good a logician as you for his daughter." But Eugenie,instead of stooping, drew herself up under the blow."Ruined?" said she.

"Exactly, my daughter; that is precisely what I mean," saidDanglars, almost digging his nails into his breast, while hepreserved on his harsh features the smile of the heartlessthough clever man; "ruined - yes, that is it."

"Ah!" said Eugenie.

"Yes, ruined! Now it is revealed, this secret so full ofhorror, as the tragic poet says. Now, my daughter, learnfrom my lips how you may alleviate this misfortune, so faras it will affect you."

"Oh," cried Eugenie, "you are a bad physiognomist, if youimagine I deplore on my own account the catastrophe of whichyou warn me. I ruined? and what will that signify to me?Have I not my talent left? Can I not, like Pasta, Malibran,Grisi, acquire for myself what you would never have givenme, whatever might have been your fortune, a hundred or ahundred and fifty thousand livres per annum, for which Ishall be indebted to no one but myself; and which, insteadof being given as you gave me those poor twelve thousandfrancs, with sour looks and reproaches for my prodigality,will be accompanied with acclamations, with bravos, and withflowers? And if I do not possess that talent, which yoursmiles prove to me you doubt, should I not still have thatardent love of independence, which will be a substitute forwealth, and which in my mind supersedes even the instinct ofself-preservation? No, I grieve not on my own account, Ishall always find a resource; my books, my pencils, mypiano, all the things which cost but little, and which Ishall be able to procure, will remain my own.

"Do you think that I sorrow for Madame Danglars? Undeceiveyourself again; either I am greatly mistaken, or she hasprovided against the catastrophe which threatens you, and,which will pass over without affecting her. She has takencare for herself, - at least I hope so, - for herattention has not been diverted from her projects bywatching over me. She has fostered my independence byprofessedly indulging my love for liberty. Oh, no, sir; frommy childhood I have seen too much, and understood too much,of what has passed around me, for misfortune to have anundue power over me. From my earliest recollections, I havebeen beloved by no one - so much the worse; that hasnaturally led me to love no one - so much the better - nowyou have my profession of faith."

"Then," said Danglars, pale with anger, which was not at alldue to offended paternal love, - "then, mademoiselle, youpersist in your determination to accelerate my ruin?"

"Your ruin? I accelerate your ruin? What do you mean? I donot understand you."

"So much the better, I have a ray of hope left; listen."

"I am all attention," said Eugenie, looking so earnestly ather father that it was an effort for the latter to endureher unrelenting gaze.

"M. Cavalcanti," continued Danglars, "is about to marry you,and will place in my hands his fortune, amounting to threemillion livres."

"That is admirable!" said Eugenie with sovereign contempt,smoothing her gloves out one upon the other.

"You think I shall deprive you of those three millions,"said Danglars; "but do not fear it. They are destined toproduce at least ten. I and a brother banker have obtained agrant of a railway, the only industrial enterprise which inthese days promises to make good the fabulous prospects thatLaw once held out to the eternally deluded Parisians, in thefantastic Mississippi scheme. As I look at it, a millionthpart of a railway is worth fully as much as an acre of wasteland on the banks of the Ohio. We make in our case adeposit, on a mortgage, which is an advance, as you see,since we gain at least ten, fifteen, twenty, or a hundredlivres' worth of iron in exchange for our money. Well,within a week I am to deposit four millions for my share;the four millions, I promise you, will produce ten ortwelve."

"But during my visit to you the day before yesterday, sir,which you appear to recollect so well," replied Eugenie, "Isaw you arranging a deposit - is not that the term? - offive millions and a half; you even pointed it out to me intwo drafts on the treasury, and you were astonished that sovaluable a paper did not dazzle my eyes like lightning."

"Yes, but those five millions and a half are not mine, andare only a proof of the great confidence placed in me; mytitle of popular banker has gained me the confidence ofcharitable institutions, and the five millions and a halfbelong to them; at any other time I should not havehesitated to make use of them, but the great losses I haverecently sustained are well known, and, as I told you, mycredit is rather shaken. That deposit may be at any momentwithdrawn, and if I had employed it for another purpose, Ishould bring on me a disgraceful bankruptcy. I do notdespise bankruptcies, believe me, but they must be thosewhich enrich, not those which ruin. Now, if you marry M.Cavalcanti, and I get the three millions, or even if it isthought I am going to get them, my credit will be restored,and my fortune, which for the last month or two has beenswallowed up in gulfs which have been opened in my path byan inconceivable fatality, will revive. Do you understandme?"

"Perfectly; you pledge me for three millions, do you not?"

"The greater the amount, the more flattering it is to you;it gives you an idea of your value."

"Thank you. One word more, sir; do you promise me to makewhat use you can of the report of the fortune M. Cavalcantiwill bring without touching the money? This is no act ofselfishness, but of delicacy. I am willing to help rebuildyour fortune, but I will not be an accomplice in the ruin ofothers."

"But since I tell you," cried Danglars, "that with thesethree million" -

"Do you expect to recover your position, sir, withouttouching those three million?"

"I hope so, if the marriage should take place and confirm mycredit."

"Shall you be able to pay M. Cavalcanti the five hundredthousand francs you promise for my dowry?"

"He shall receive then on returning from the mayor's."*

The performance of the civil marriage.

"Very well!"

"What next? what more do you want?"

"I wish to know if, in demanding my signature, you leave meentirely free in my person?"

"Absolutely."

"Then, as I said before, sir, - very well; I am ready tomarry M. Cavalcanti."

"But what are you up to?"

"Ah, that is my affair. What advantage should I have overyou, if knowing your secret I were to tell you mine?"Danglars bit his lips. "Then," said he, "you are ready topay the official visits, which are absolutelyindispensable?"

"Yes," replied Eugenie.

"And to sign the contract in three days?"

"Yes."

"Then, in my turn, I also say, very well!" Danglars pressedhis daughter's hand in his. But, extraordinary to relate,the father did not say, "Thank you, my child," nor did thedaughter smile at her father. "Is the conference ended?"asked Eugenie, rising. Danglars motioned that he had nothingmore to say. Five minutes afterwards the piano resounded tothe touch of Mademoiselle d'Armilly's fingers, andMademoiselle Danglars was singing Brabantio's malediction onDesdemona. At the end of the piece Etienne entered, andannounced to Eugenie that the horses were in the carriage,and that the baroness was waiting for her to pay her visits.We have seen them at Villefort's; they proceeded then ontheir course.