Three days after the scene we have just described, namelytowards five o'clock in the afternoon of the day fixed forthe signature of the contract between Mademoiselle EugenieDanglars and Andrea Cavalcanti, - whom the banker persistedin calling prince, - a fresh breeze was stirring the leavesin the little garden in front of the Count of Monte Cristo'shouse, and the count was preparing to go out. While hishorses were impatiently pawing the ground, - held in by thecoachman, who had been seated a quarter of an hour on hisbox, - the elegant phaeton with which we are familiarrapidly turned the angle of the entrance-gate, and cast outon the doorsteps M. Andrea Cavalcanti, as decked up and gayas if he were going to marry a princess. He inquired afterthe count with his usual familiarity, and ascending lightlyto the second story met him at the top of the stairs. Thecount stopped on seeing the young man. As for Andrea, he waslaunched, and when he was once launched nothing stopped him."Ah, good morning, my dear count," said he. "Ah, M. Andrea,"said the latter, with his half-jesting tone; "how do youdo."

"Charmingly, as you see. I am come to talk to you about athousand things; but, first tell me, were you going out orjust returned?"

"I was going out, sir."

"Then, in order not to hinder you, I will get up with you ifyou please in your carriage, and Tom shall follow with myphaeton in tow."

"No," said the count, with an imperceptible smile ofcontempt, for he had no wish to be seen in the young man'ssociety, - "no; I prefer listening to you here, my dear M.Andrea; we can chat better in-doors, and there is nocoachman to overhear our conversation." The count returnedto a small drawing-room on the first floor, sat down, andcrossing his legs motioned to the young man to take a seatalso. Andrea assumed his gayest manner. "You know, my dearcount," said he, "the ceremony is to take place thisevening. At nine o'clock the contract is to be signed at myfather-in-law's."

"Ah, indeed?" said Monte Cristo.

"What; is it news to you? Has not M. Danglars informed youof the ceremony?"

"Oh, yes," said the count; "I received a letter from himyesterday, but I do not think the hour was mentioned."

"Possibly my father-in-law trusted to its generalnotoriety."

"Well," said Monte Cristo, "you are fortunate, M.Cavalcanti; it is a most suitable alliance you arecontracting, and Mademoiselle Danglars is a handsome girl."

"Yes, indeed she is," replied Cavalcanti, in a very modesttone.

"Above all, she is very rich, - at least, I believe so,"said Monte Cristo.

"Very rich, do you think?" replied the young man.

"Doubtless; it is said M. Danglars conceals at least half ofhis fortune."

"And he acknowledges fifteen or twenty millions," saidAndrea with a look sparkling with joy.

"Without reckoning," added Monte Cristo, "that he is on theeve of entering into a sort of speculation already in voguein the United States and in England, but quite novel inFrance."

"Yes, yes, I know what you mean, - the railway, of which hehas obtained the grant, is it not?"

"Precisely; it is generally believed he will gain tenmillions by that affair."

"Ten millions! Do you think so? It is magnificent!" saidCavalcanti, who was quite confounded at the metallic soundof these golden words. "Without reckoning," replied MonteCristo, "that all his fortune will come to you, and justlytoo, since Mademoiselle Danglars is an only daughter.Besides, your own fortune, as your father assured me, isalmost equal to that of your betrothed. But enough of moneymatters. Do you know, M. Andrea, I think you have managedthis affair rather skilfully?"

"Not badly, by any means," said the young man; "I was bornfor a diplomatist."

"Well, you must become a diplomatist; diplomacy, you know,is something that is not to be acquired; it is instinctive.Have you lost your heart?"

"Indeed, I fear it," replied Andrea, in the tone in which hehad heard Dorante or Valere reply to Alceste* at the TheatreFrancais.

"Is your love returned?"

In Moliere's comedy, Le Misanthrope.

"I suppose so," said Andrea with a triumphant smile, "sinceI am accepted. But I must not forget one grand point."

"Which?"

"That I have been singularly assisted."

"Nonsense."

"I have, indeed."

"By circumstances?"

"No; by you."

"By me? Not at all, prince," said Monte Cristo laying amarked stress on the title, "what have I done for you? Arenot your name, your social position, and your meritsufficient?"

"No," said Andrea, - "no; it is useless for you to say so,count. I maintain that the position of a man like you hasdone more than my name, my social position, and my merit."

"You are completely mistaken, sir," said Monte Cristocoldly, who felt the perfidious manoeuvre of the young man,and understood the bearing of his words; "you only acquiredmy protection after the influence and fortune of your fatherhad been ascertained; for, after all, who procured for me,who had never seen either you or your illustrious father,the pleasure of your acquaintance? - two of my goodfriends, Lord Wilmore and the Abbe Busoni. What encouragedme not to become your surety, but to patronize you? - yourfather's name, so well known in Italy and so highly honored.Personally, I do not know you." This calm tone and perfectease made Andrea feel that he was, for the moment,restrained by a more muscular hand than his own, and thatthe restraint could not be easily broken through.

"Oh, then my father has really a very large fortune, count?"

"It appears so, sir," replied Monte Cristo.

"Do you know if the marriage settlement he promised me hascome?"

"I have been advised of it."

"But the three millions?"

"The three millions are probably on the road."

"Then I shall really have them?"

"Oh, well," said the count, "I do not think you have yetknown the want of money." Andrea was so surprised that hepondered the matter for a moment. Then, arousing from hisrevery, - "Now, sir, I have one request to make to you,which you will understand, even if it should be disagreeableto you."

"Proceed," said Monte Cristo.

"I have formed an acquaintance, thanks to my good fortune,with many noted persons, and have, at least for the moment,a crowd of friends. But marrying, as I am about to do,before all Paris, I ought to be supported by an illustriousname, and in the absence of the paternal hand some powerfulone ought to lead me to the altar; now, my father is notcoming to Paris, is he? He is old, covered with wounds, andsuffers dreadfully, he says, in travelling."

"Indeed?"

"Well, I am come to ask a favor of you."

"Of me?"

"Yes, of you."

"And pray what may it be?"

"Well, to take his part."

"Ah, my dear sir! What? - after the varied relations I havehad the happiness to sustain towards you, can it be that youknow me so little as to ask such a thing? Ask me to lend youhalf a million and, although such a loan is somewhat rare,on my honor, you would annoy me less! Know, then, what Ithought I had already told you, that in participation inthis world's affairs, more especially in their moralaspects, the Count of Monte Cristo has never ceased toentertain the scruples and even the superstitions of theEast. I, who have a seraglio at Cairo, one at Smyrna, andone at Constantinople, preside at a wedding? - never!"

"Then you refuse me?"

"Decidedly; and were you my son or my brother I would refuseyou in the same way."

"But what must be done?" said Andrea, disappointed.

"You said just now that you had a hundred friends."

"Very true, but you introduced me at M. Danglars'."

"Not at all! Let us recall the exact facts. You met him at adinner party at my house, and you introduced yourself at hishouse; that is a totally different affair."

"Yes, but, by my marriage, you have forwarded that."

"I? - not in the least, I beg you to believe. Recollectwhat I told you when you asked me to propose you. `Oh, Inever make matches, my dear prince, it is my settledprinciple.'" Andrea bit his lips.

"But, at least, you will be there?"

"Will all Paris be there?"

"Oh, certainly."

"Well, like all Paris, I shall be there too," said thecount.

"And will you sign the contract?"

"I see no objection to that; my scruples do not go thusfar."

"Well, since you will grant me no more, I must be contentwith what you give me. But one word more, count."

"What is it?"

"Advice."

"Be careful; advice is worse than a service."

"Oh, you can give me this without compromising yourself."

"Tell me what it is."

"Is my wife's fortune five hundred thousand livres?"

"That is the sum M. Danglars himself announced."

"Must I receive it, or leave it in the hands of the notary?"

"This is the way such affairs are generally arranged when itis wished to do them stylishly: Your two solicitors appointa meeting, when the contract is signed, for the next or thefollowing day; then they exchange the two portions, forwhich they each give a receipt; then, when the marriage iscelebrated, they place the amount at your disposal as thechief member of the alliance."

"Because," said Andrea, with a certain ill-concealeduneasiness, "I thought I heard my father-in-law say that heintended embarking our property in that famous railwayaffair of which you spoke just now."

"Well," replied Monte Cristo, "it will be the way, everybodysays, of trebling your fortune in twelve months. BaronDanglars is a good father, and knows how to calculate."

"In that case," said Andrea, "everything is all right,excepting your refusal, which quite grieves me."

"You must attribute it only to natural scruples undersimilar circumstances."

"Well," said Andrea, "let it be as you wish. This evening,then, at nine o'clock."

"Adieu till then." Notwithstanding a slight resistance onthe part of Monte Cristo, whose lips turned pale, but whopreserved his ceremonious smile, Andrea seized the count'shand, pressed it, jumped into his phaeton, and disappeared.

The four or five remaining hours before nine o'clockarrived, Andrea employed in riding, paying visits, - designed to induce those of whom he had spoken to appear atthe banker's in their gayest equipages, - dazzling them bypromises of shares in schemes which have since turned everybrain, and in which Danglars was just taking the initiative.In fact, at half-past eight in the evening the grand salon,the gallery adjoining, and the three other drawing-rooms onthe same floor, were filled with a perfumed crowd, whosympathized but little in the event, but who allparticipated in that love of being present wherever there isanything fresh to be seen. An Academician would say that theentertainments of the fashionable world are collections offlowers which attract inconstant butterflies, famished bees,and buzzing drones.

No one could deny that the rooms were splendidlyilluminated; the light streamed forth on the gilt mouldingsand the silk hangings; and all the bad taste of decorations,which had only their richness to boast of, shone in itssplendor. Mademoiselle Eugenie was dressed with elegantsimplicity in a figured white silk dress, and a white rosehalf concealed in her jet black hair was her only ornament,unaccompanied by a single jewel. Her eyes, however, betrayedthat perfect confidence which contradicted the girlishsimplicity of this modest attire. Madame Danglars waschatting at a short distance with Debray, Beauchamp, andChateau-Renaud.

Debray was admitted to the house for this grand ceremony,but on the same plane with every one else, and without anyparticular privilege. M. Danglars, surrounded by deputiesand men connected with the revenue, was explaining a newtheory of taxation which he intended to adopt when thecourse of events had compelled the government to call himinto the ministry. Andrea, on whose arm hung one of the mostconsummate dandies of the opera, was explaining to himrather cleverly, since he was obliged to be bold to appearat ease, his future projects, and the new luxuries he meantto introduce to Parisian fashions with his hundred andseventy-five thousand livres per annum.

The crowd moved to and fro in the rooms like an ebb and flowof turquoises, rubies, emeralds, opals, and diamonds. Asusual, the oldest women were the most decorated, and theugliest the most conspicuous. If there was a beautiful lily,or a sweet rose, you had to search for it, concealed in somecorner behind a mother with a turban, or an aunt with a birdof paradise.

At each moment, in the midst of the crowd, the buzzing, andthe laughter, the door-keeper's voice was heard announcingsome name well known in the financial department, respectedin the army, or illustrious in the literary world, and whichwas acknowledged by a slight movement in the differentgroups. But for one whose privilege it was to agitate thatocean of human waves, how many were received with a look ofindifference or a sneer of disdain! At the moment when thehand of the massive time-piece, representing Endymionasleep, pointed to nine on its golden face, and the hammer,the faithful type of mechanical thought, struck nine times,the name of the Count of Monte Cristo resounded in its turn,and as if by an electric shock all the assembly turnedtowards the door.

The count was dressed in black and with his habitualsimplicity; his white waistcoat displayed his expansivenoble chest and his black stock was singularly noticeablebecause of its contrast with the deadly paleness of hisface. His only jewellery was a chain, so fine that theslender gold thread was scarcely perceptible on his whitewaistcoat. A circle was immediately formed around the door.The count perceived at one glance Madame Danglars at one endof the drawing-room, M. Danglars at the other, and Eugeniein front of him. He first advanced towards the baroness, whowas chatting with Madame de Villefort, who had come alone,Valentine being still an invalid; and without turning aside,so clear was the road left for him, he passed from thebaroness to Eugenie, whom he complimented in such rapid andmeasured terms, that the proud artist was quite struck. Nearher was Mademoiselle Louise d'Armilly, who thanked the countfor the letters of introduction he had so kindly given herfor Italy, which she intended immediately to make use of. Onleaving these ladies he found himself with Danglars, who hadadvanced to meet him.

Having accomplished these three social duties, Monte Cristostopped, looking around him with that expression peculiar toa certain class, which seems to say, "I have done my duty,now let others do theirs." Andrea, who was in an adjoiningroom, had shared in the sensation caused by the arrival ofMonte Cristo, and now came forward to pay his respects tothe count. He found him completely surrounded; all wereeager to speak to him, as is always the case with thosewhose words are few and weighty. The solicitors arrived atthis moment and arranged their scrawled papers on the velvetcloth embroidered with gold which covered the table preparedfor the signature; it was a gilt table supported on lions'claws. One of the notaries sat down, the other remainedstanding. They were about to proceed to the reading of thecontract, which half Paris assembled was to sign. All tooktheir places, or rather the ladies formed a circle, whilethe gentlemen (more indifferent to the restraints of whatBoileau calls the "energetic style") commented on thefeverish agitation of Andrea, on M. Danglars' rivetedattention, Eugenie's composure, and the light and sprightlymanner in which the baroness treated this important affair.

The contract was read during a profound silence. But as soonas it was finished, the buzz was redoubled through all thedrawing-rooms; the brilliant sums, the rolling millionswhich were to be at the command of the two young people, andwhich crowned the display of the wedding presents and theyoung lady's diamonds, which had been made in a roomentirely appropriated for that purpose, had exercised to thefull their delusions over the envious assembly. MademoiselleDanglars' charms were heightened in the opinion of the youngmen, and for the moment seemed to outvie the sun insplendor. As for the ladies, it is needless to say thatwhile they coveted the millions, they thought they did notneed them for themselves, as they were beautiful enoughwithout them. Andrea, surrounded by his friends,complimented, flattered, beginning to believe in the realityof his dream, was almost bewildered. The notary solemnlytook the pen, flourished it above his head, and said,"Gentlemen, we are about to sign the contract."

The baron was to sign first, then the representative of M.Cavalcanti, senior, then the baroness, afterwards the"future couple," as they are styled in the abominablephraseology of legal documents. The baron took the pen andsigned, then the representative. The baroness approached,leaning on Madame de Villefort's arm. "My dear," said she,as she took the pen, "is it not vexatious? An unexpectedincident, in the affair of murder and theft at the Count ofMonte Cristo's, in which he nearly fell a victim, deprivesus of the pleasure of seeing M. de Villefort."

"Indeed?" said M. Danglars, in the same tone in which hewould have said, "Oh, well, what do I care?"

"As a matter of fact," said Monte Cristo, approaching, "I ammuch afraid that I am the involuntary cause of his absence."

"What, you, count?" said Madame Danglars, signing; "if youare, take care, for I shall never forgive you." Andreapricked up his ears.

"But it is not my fault, as I shall endeavor to prove."Every one listened eagerly; Monte Cristo who so rarelyopened his lips, was about to speak. "You remember," saidthe count, during the most profound silence, "that theunhappy wretch who came to rob me died at my house; thesupposition is that he was stabbed by his accomplice, onattempting to leave it."

"Yes," said Danglars.

"In order that his wounds might be examined he wasundressed, and his clothes were thrown into a corner, wherethe police picked them up, with the exception of thewaistcoat, which they overlooked." Andrea turned pale, anddrew towards the door; he saw a cloud rising in the horizon,which appeared to forebode a coming storm.

"Well, this waistcoat was discovered to-day, covered withblood, and with a hole over the heart." The ladies screamed,and two or three prepared to faint. "It was brought to me.No one could guess what the dirty rag could be; I alonesuspected that it was the waistcoat of the murdered man. Myvalet, in examining this mournful relic, felt a paper in thepocket and drew it out; it was a letter addressed to you,baron."

"To me?" cried Danglars.

"Yes, indeed, to you; I succeeded in deciphering your nameunder the blood with which the letter was stained," repliedMonte Cristo, amid the general outburst of amazement.

"But," asked Madame Danglars, looking at her husband withuneasiness, "how could that prevent M. de Villefort" -

"In this simple way, madame," replied Monte Cristo; "thewaistcoat and the letter were both what is termedcircumstantial evidence; I therefore sent them to the king'sattorney. You understand, my dear baron, that legal methodsare the safest in criminal cases; it was, perhaps, some plotagainst you." Andrea looked steadily at Monte Cristo anddisappeared in the second drawing-room.

"Possibly," said Danglars; "was not this murdered man an oldgalley-slave?"

"Yes," replied the count; "a felon named Caderousse."Danglars turned slightly pale; Andrea reached the anteroombeyond the little drawing-room.

"But go on signing," said Monte Cristo; "I perceive that mystory has caused a general emotion, and I beg to apologizeto you, baroness, and to Mademoiselle Danglars." Thebaroness, who had signed, returned the pen to the notary."Prince Cavalcanti," said the latter; "Prince Cavalcanti,where are you?"

"Andrea, Andrea," repeated several young people, who werealready on sufficiently intimate terms with him to call himby his Christian name.

"Call the prince; inform him that it is his turn to sign,"cried Danglars to one of the floorkeepers.

But at the same instant the crowd of guests rushed in alarminto the principal salon as if some frightful monster hadentered the apartments, quaerens quem devoret. There was,indeed, reason to retreat, to be alarmed, and to scream. Anofficer was placing two soldiers at the door of eachdrawing-room, and was advancing towards Danglars, precededby a commissary of police, girded with his scarf. MadameDanglars uttered a scream and fainted. Danglars, who thoughthimself threatened (certain consciences are never calm), - Danglars even before his guests showed a countenance ofabject terror.

"What is the matter, sir?" asked Monte Cristo, advancing tomeet the commissioner.

"Which of you gentlemen," asked the magistrate, withoutreplying to the count, "answers to the name of AndreaCavalcanti?" A cry of astonishment was heard from all partsof the room. They searched; they questioned. "But who thenis Andrea Cavalcanti?" asked Danglars in amazement.

"A galley-slave, escaped from confinement at Toulon."

"And what crime has he committed?"

"He is accused," said the commissary with his inflexiblevoice, "of having assassinated the man named Caderousse, hisformer companion in prison, at the moment he was making hisescape from the house of the Count of Monte Cristo." MonteCristo cast a rapid glance around him. Andrea was gone.