XLVI. Le crédit illimité.

XLVI

Unlimited Credit.

The next day, toward two o'clock in the afternoon, a carriage drawn by two magnificent English horses stopped before Monte Cristo's door; a man dressed in a blue coat with silk buttons of the same color, a white waistcoat crossed by an enormous gold chain, and chestnut-colored trousers, with hair so black and falling so low over his eyebrows that one might have hesitated to believe it natural, so little did it seem in harmony with the lower wrinkles it could not quite hide; a man, in short, of fifty to fifty-five years, who sought to appear forty, thrust his head through the window of a coupé on whose panel was painted a baron's coronet, and sent his groom to ask the porter whether the Count of Monte Cristo was at home.

Meanwhile, this man was considering, with an attention so minute as to become almost impertinent, the exterior of the house, what could be distinguished of the garden, and the livery of some domestics who could be seen coming and going. The eye of this man was lively, but rather cunning than spirited. His lips were so thin that, instead of protruding outward, they drew back into the mouth; finally, the width and prominence of the cheekbones, an infallible sign of craft, the depression of the forehead, the swelling of the occiput, which extended far beyond ears of the least aristocratic sort, contributed to give, for any physiognomist, an almost repulsive character to the face of this personage highly recommendable in the eyes of the vulgar by his magnificent horses, the enormous diamond he wore in his shirt, and the red ribbon stretching from one buttonhole to the other of his coat.

The groom knocked at the porter's window and asked:

"Is it not here that Monsieur the Count of Monte Cristo lives?"

"It is here that His Excellency lives," answered the porter, "but..."

He consulted Ali with a look.

Ali made a negative sign.

"But?..." asked the groom.

"But His Excellency is not visible," replied the porter.

"In that case, here is my master's card, Baron Danglars. You will give it to the Count of Monte Cristo, and you will tell him that, on his way to the Chamber, my master turned aside to have the honor of seeing him."

"I do not speak to His Excellency," said the porter; "the valet de chambre will deliver the message."

The groom returned to the carriage.

"Well?" asked Danglars.

The boy, rather ashamed of the lesson he had just received, brought his master the answer he had got from the porter.

"Oh!" said the latter, "is this gentleman then a prince, that he is called Excellency, and that only his valet de chambre has the right to speak to him? No matter, since he has a credit on me, I shall have to see him whenever he wants money."

And Danglars threw himself back into the depths of his carriage, crying to the coachman, loud enough to be heard across the road:

"To the Chamber of Deputies!"

Through a blind in his pavilion, Monte Cristo, warned in time, had seen the baron and studied him, by means of an excellent opera glass, with no less attention than M. Danglars had himself employed in analyzing the house, the garden, and the liveries.

"Decidedly," he said with a gesture of disgust, and thrusting the tubes of his glass back into their ivory case, "decidedly that is an ugly creature, that man; how is it that, at first sight, one does not recognize the serpent in the flattened brow, the vulture in the bulging skull, and the buzzard in the sharp beak!"

"Ali!" he cried; then he struck a blow on the brass bell. Ali appeared. "Call Bertuccio," he said.

At the same moment Bertuccio entered.

"Your Excellency sent for me?" said the steward.

"Yes, sir," said the count. "Did you see the horses that have just stopped before my door?"

"Certainly, Excellency, they are indeed very fine."

"How is it," said Monte Cristo, frowning, "that when I asked you for the two finest horses in Paris, there should be in Paris two other horses as fine as mine, and that those horses are not in my stables?"

At the frown and the severe intonation of that voice, Ali lowered his head.

"It is not your fault, good Ali," said the count in Arabic, with a gentleness one would not have thought to find either in his voice or on his face; "you do not know about English horses, you."

Serenity reappeared on Ali's features.

"Monsieur the Count," said Bertuccio, "the horses of which you speak were not for sale."

Monte Cristo shrugged his shoulders:

"Know, Monsieur Steward, that everything is always to be sold for him who knows how to pay the price."

"M. Danglars paid sixteen thousand francs for them, Monsieur the Count."

"Well, you should have offered him thirty-two thousand; he is a banker, and a banker never misses a chance to double his capital."

"Does Monsieur the Count speak seriously?" asked Bertuccio.

Monte Cristo looked at the steward like a man astonished that one should dare put a question to him.

"This evening," he said, "I have a visit to pay; I wish those two horses to be harnessed to my carriage with a new set of harness."

Bertuccio withdrew with a bow; near the door, he stopped:

"At what hour," said he, "does His Excellency intend to pay this visit?"

"At five o'clock," said Monte Cristo.

"I would observe to Your Excellency that it is two o'clock," ventured the steward.

"I know it," was Monte Cristo's only reply.

Then, turning to Ali:

"Have all the horses paraded before madame," he said, "that she may choose the team that suits her best, and let her send me word whether she will dine with me: in that case, service will be in her apartments; go; as you go down, send me the valet de chambre."

Ali had scarcely disappeared when the valet de chambre entered in his turn.

"Monsieur Baptistin," said the count, "for a year you have been in my service; that is the probation I ordinarily impose on my people: you suit me."

Baptistin bowed.

"It remains to be seen whether I suit you."

"Oh! Monsieur the Count!" hastened to say Baptistin.

"Listen to the end," resumed the count. "You earn fifteen hundred francs a year, that is to say the pay of a good and brave officer who risks his life every day; you have a table such as many heads of bureau, unhappy servants far more busy than you, would desire such a one. Domestically, you have yourself domestics who care for your linen and your effects. Besides your fifteen hundred francs of wages, you rob me, on the purchases you make for my toilet, of some fifteen hundred other francs a year."

"Oh! Excellency!"

"I do not complain, Monsieur Baptistin, it is reasonable; however, I wish it to stop there. You would not find anywhere a post like that which your good fortune has given you. I never beat my people, I never swear, I never lose my temper, I always pardon an error, never a negligence or an oversight. My orders are usually brief, but clear and precise; I prefer to repeat them twice and even thrice rather than see them ill interpreted. I am rich enough to know all I wish to know, and I am very curious, I warn you. If I learned therefore that you had spoken of me, well or ill, commented on my actions, watched my conduct, you would leave my house that instant. I never warn my domestics but once; you are warned, go!"

Baptistin bowed and made three or four steps to withdraw.

"By the way," resumed the count, "I forgot to tell you that, every year, I place a certain sum on the head of my people. Those I dismiss necessarily lose that money, which profits those who remain and who will have a right to it after my death. It is a year since you have been with me; your fortune is begun, continue it."

This allocation, made before Ali, who remained impassive, seeing that he did not understand a word of French, produced on M. Baptistin an effect that all who have studied the psychology of the French domestic will comprehend.

"I shall endeavor to conform in all points to the wishes of Your Excellency," said he; "besides, I shall model myself on M. Ali."

"Oh! not at all," said the count with a marble coldness. "Ali has many faults mingled with his qualities; do not take example by him, for Ali is an exception; he has no wages, he is not a servant, he is my slave, he is my dog; if he failed in his duty, I would not dismiss him, I would kill him."

Baptistin opened wide his eyes.

"You doubt?" said Monte Cristo.

And he repeated to Ali the same words he had just said in French to Baptistin.

Ali listened, smiled, approached his master, knelt on one knee, and respectfully kissed his hand.

This little corollary of the lesson crowned the stupefaction of M. Baptistin.

The count made a sign to Baptistin to withdraw, and to Ali to follow him. Both passed into his study, and there they conversed long.

At five o'clock, the count struck three blows on his bell. One blow called Ali, two Baptistin, three Bertuccio.

The steward entered.

"My horses!" said Monte Cristo.

"They are to the carriage, Excellency," replied Bertuccio. "Shall I accompany Monsieur the Count?"

"No, the coachman, Baptistin, and Ali, that is all."

The count went down and saw harnessed to his carriage the horses he had admired in the morning at Danglars's carriage.

In passing near them he cast a glance at them.

"They are fine, indeed," said he, "and you did well to buy them, only it was a little late."

"Excellency," said Bertuccio, "I had much trouble to get them, and they cost very dear."

"Are the horses less fine for that?" asked the count, shrugging his shoulders.

"If Your Excellency is satisfied," said Bertuccio, "all is well. Where does Your Excellency go?"

"Rue de la Chaussée-d'Antin, to M. the Baron Danglars."

This conversation took place on the top of the perron. Bertuccio made a step to descend the first stair.

"Wait, sir," said Monte Cristo, stopping him. "I need an estate on the seashore, in Normandy, for example, between Le Havre and Boulogne. I give you space, as you see. It would be needful that, in this acquisition, there be a small port, a little creek, a small bay, where my corvette can enter and lie. She draws only fifteen feet of water. The vessel will always be ready to put to sea, at whatever hour of day or night it pleases me to give her the signal. You will inquire among all the notaries for a property under the conditions I explain to you; when you have knowledge of one, you will go visit it, and if you are satisfied, you will buy it in your name. The corvette must be on her way to Fécamp, is she not?"

"The very evening we left Marseille, I saw her put to sea."

"And the yacht?"

"The yacht has orders to remain at the Martigues."

"Good! You will correspond from time to time with the two captains who command them, so that they do not fall asleep."

"And for the steamboat?"

"Which is at Chalons?"

"Yes."

"Same orders as for the two sailing vessels."

"Good!"

"As soon as this property is bought, I shall have relays every ten leagues on the Northern road and on the Southern road."

"Your Excellency may count on me."

The count made a sign of satisfaction, descended the steps, sprang into his carriage, which, borne along at the trot of the magnificent team, stopped only before the banker's hotel. Danglars was presiding over a commission named for a railroad, when he was announced the visit of the Count of Monte Cristo. The session, moreover, was nearly finished.

At the name of the count, he rose.

"Gentlemen," said he, addressing his colleagues, several of whom were honorable members of one or the other Chamber, "pardon me if I thus leave you; but imagine that the house of Thomson and French, of Rome, sends me a certain Count of Monte Cristo, opening with me an unlimited credit. That is the drollest jest my correspondents abroad have yet permitted themselves toward me. Faith, you understand, curiosity seized me and still holds me; I passed this morning at the supposed count's. If he were a real count, you understand, he would not be so rich. The gentleman was not visible. What think you of it? Are not these the ways of highness or pretty woman that this Master Monte Cristo gives himself? Besides, the house situated on the Champs-Élysées and which is his, I have informed myself, seemed proper. But an unlimited credit," resumed Danglars, laughing his ugly smile, "makes the banker where the credit is opened very exacting. I am therefore in haste to see our man. I believe myself mystified. But they little know whom they have to do with; he laughs well who laughs last."

In finishing these words and giving them an emphasis that swelled the nostrils of M. the baron, the latter quitted his guests and passed into a white and gold salon that made much noise in the Chaussée-d'Antin.

It was there that he had ordered the visitor to be introduced, to dazzle him at the first blow.

The count was standing, considering some copies of the Alban and the Fattore that had been passed off on the banker as originals, and which, copies though they were, jarred strongly with the chicories of gold of all colors that garnished the ceilings.

At the noise Danglars made in entering, the count turned round.

Danglars saluted slightly with the head, and made a sign to the count to seat himself in an armchair of gilded wood furnished with white satin brocaded with gold.

The count sat down.

"It is Monsieur de Monte Cristo whom I have the honor of addressing?"

"And I," replied the count, "Monsieur the Baron Danglars, knight of the Legion of Honor, member of the Chamber of Deputies?"

Monte Cristo was repeating all the titles he had found on the baron's card.

Danglars felt the thrust and bit his lips.

"Excuse me, sir," said he, "for not having at first given you the title under which you were announced to me; but, as you know, we live under a popular government, and I, I am a representative of the people's interests."

"So that," replied Monte Cristo, "while keeping the habit of having yourself called baron, you have lost that of calling others count."

"Ah! I do not hold to it even for myself, sir," answered Danglars negligently; "they named me baron and made me knight of the Legion of Honor for some services rendered, but..."

"But you have abdicated your titles, as formerly MM. de Montmorency and de Lafayette did? It was a fine example to follow, sir."

"Not quite, however," resumed Danglars embarrassed; "for the domestics, you understand..."

"Yes, you are called my lord by your people; by the journalists, you are called sir; and by your constituents, citizen. Those are nuances very applicable to the constitutional government. I comprehend perfectly."

Danglars pinched his lips: he saw that, on that ground, he was not a match for Monte Cristo; he tried therefore to return to ground more familiar to him.

"Monsieur the Count," said he, bowing, "I have received a letter of advice from the house of Thomson and French."

"I am charmed at it, Monsieur the Baron. Permit me to treat you as your people treat you, it is a bad habit contracted in countries where there are still barons, precisely because they make no more. I am charmed at it, I say; I shall not need to present myself, which is always rather embarrassing. You had then, you said, received a letter of advice?"

"Yes," said Danglars; "but I confess I did not perfectly comprehend its sense."

"Bah!"

"And I had even had the honor of calling at your house to ask you some explanations."

"Do so, sir, here I am, I listen and am ready to hear you."

"This letter," said Danglars, "I have it about me, I believe" (he searched in his pocket). "Yes, here it is: this letter opens to M. the Count of Monte Cristo an unlimited credit on my house."

"Well, Monsieur the Baron, what do you find obscure in that?"

"Nothing, sir; only the word _unlimited_..."

"Well, is not that word French?... You understand, they are Anglo-Germans who write."

"Oh! yes, sir, and on the side of syntax there is nothing to object; but it is not the same on the side of accounting."

"Is the house of Thomson and French, then," asked Monte Cristo with the most naive air he could assume, "not perfectly sound, in your opinion, Monsieur the Baron? The devil! that would vex me, for I have some funds placed there."

"Ah! perfectly sound," answered Danglars with an almost railing smile; "but the sense of the word unlimited, in matters of finance, is so vague..."

"That it is unlimited, is it not?" said Monte Cristo.

"That is just it, sir, what I wished to say. Now, the vague, that is doubt, and, says the sage, in doubt abstain."

"Which signifies," resumed Monte Cristo, "that if the house of Thomson and French is disposed to play the fool, the house of Danglars is not disposed to follow its example."

"How so, Monsieur the Count?"

"Yes, doubtless, MM. Thomson and French do business without figures; but M. Danglars has a limit to his. He is a wise man, as he said but now."

"Sir," answered the banker proudly, "no one has yet reckoned with my cashbox."

"Then," replied Monte Cristo coldly, "it appears that it is I who shall begin."

"Who told you that?"

"The explanations you ask of me, sir, which much resemble hesitations..."

Danglars bit his lips; it was the second time he had been beaten by this man, and this time on ground that was his own. His railing politeness was but affected, and touched that extreme so near which is impertinence.

Monte Cristo, on the contrary, smiled with the best grace in the world, and possessed, when he wished, a certain naive air that gave him great advantages.

"In short, sir," said Danglars after a moment of silence, "I shall try to make myself understood by praying you to fix yourself the sum you count on drawing from me."

"But, sir," replied Monte Cristo, determined not to lose an inch of ground in the discussion, "if I asked for an unlimited credit on you, it is that I did not exactly know what sums I might need."

The banker believed the moment had come at last to get the upper hand; he threw himself back in his armchair, and with a heavy and proud smile:

"Oh! sir," said he, "fear not to desire; you may then convince yourself that the figure of the house of Danglars, limited as it is, can satisfy the largest exigencies, and though you should ask a million..."

"What say you?" said Monte Cristo.

"I say a million," repeated Danglars with the assurance of stupidity.

"And what should I do with a million?" said the count. "Good God! sir, if I had needed but a million, I should not have had a credit opened for such a trifle. A million? why, I always have a million in my portfolio or in my traveling case."

And Monte Cristo drew from a little notebook where his visiting cards were two bonds of five hundred thousand francs each, payable to bearer, on the Treasury.

It was needful to stun and not prick a man like Danglars. The blow of the club had its effect: the banker staggered and was dizzy; he opened on Monte Cristo two stupid eyes whose pupil dilated frightfully.

"Come, confess to me," said Monte Cristo, "that you distrust the house of Thomson and French. My God! it is quite natural; I foresaw the case, and, though rather a stranger to business, I took my precautions. Here then are two other letters like that addressed to you, one is from the house of Arestein and Eskoles, of Vienna, on M. the Baron de Rothschild, the other is from the house of Baring, of London, on M. Laffitte. Say a word, sir, and I will remove all your uneasiness by presenting myself at one or the other of those two houses."

It was all over, Danglars was vanquished; he opened with a visible trembling the letter from Vienna and the letter from London, which the count held out to him on the tips of his fingers, verified the authenticity of the signatures with a minuteness that would have been insulting to Monte Cristo, had he not made allowance for the banker's bewilderment.

"Oh! sir, here are three signatures that are well worth millions," said Danglars, rising as if to salute the power of gold personified in the man before him. "Three unlimited credits on our houses! Pardon me, Monsieur the Count, but while ceasing to be distrustful, one may still remain astonished."

"Oh! it is not a house like yours that would be thus astonished," said Monte Cristo with all his politeness; "so, you can then send me some money, can you not?"

"Speak, Monsieur the Count; I am at your orders."

"Well," resumed Monte Cristo, "now that we understand each other, for we do understand each other, do we not?"

Danglars made an affirmative sign with his head.

"And you have no longer any distrust?" continued Monte Cristo.

"Oh! Monsieur the Count!" cried the banker, "I never had any."

"No; you desired a proof, that is all. Well," repeated the count, "now that we understand each other, now that you have no longer any distrust, let us fix, if you please, a general sum for the first year: six millions, for example."

"Six millions, agreed!" said Danglars, suffocated.

"If I need more," resumed Monte Cristo mechanically, "we shall put more; but I do not count on remaining more than a year in France, and during that year I do not believe I shall exceed that figure... in short we shall see.... Be good enough, to begin, to have five hundred thousand francs brought to me tomorrow; I shall be at home until noon, and besides, if I were not, I would leave a receipt with my steward."

"The money shall be at your house tomorrow at ten in the morning, Monsieur the Count," answered Danglars. "Do you wish gold, or bank notes, or cash?"

"Gold and notes half and half, if you please."

And the count rose.

"I must confess one thing to you, Monsieur the Count," said Danglars in his turn; "I believed I had exact notions of all the fine fortunes of Europe, and yet yours, which appears to me considerable, was, I confess, quite unknown to me; it is recent?"

"No, sir," answered Monte Cristo, "it is, on the contrary, of very old date: it was a kind of family treasure which it was forbidden to touch, and whose accumulated interest has tripled the capital; the epoch fixed by the testator is only expired these few years; it is therefore only these few years that I have used it, and your ignorance on that subject has nothing unnatural in it; besides, you will know it better in some time."

And the count accompanied these words with one of those pale smiles that so greatly frightened Franz d'Épinay.

"With your tastes and your intentions, sir," continued Danglars, "you are going to deploy in the capital a luxury that will crush us all, we other poor little millionaires: however, as you appear to me an amateur, for when I entered you were looking at my pictures, I ask permission to show you my gallery: all old pictures, all masters' pictures guaranteed as such; I do not like the moderns."

"You are right, sir, for they have generally one great fault: that of not yet having had time to become ancients."

"May I show you some statues by Thorwaldsen, by Bartoloni, by Canova, all foreign artists? As you see, I do not appreciate French artists."

"You have the right to be unjust to them, sir, they are your compatriots."

"But all that will be for later, when we shall have made better acquaintance; for today, I shall content myself, if you permit it however, with presenting you to Madame the Baroness Danglars; excuse my eagerness, Monsieur the Count, but a client like you is almost part of the family."

Monte Cristo bowed, in sign that he accepted the honor the financier deigned to do him.

Danglars rang; a lackey, clothed in a brilliant livery, appeared.

"Is Madame the Baroness at home?" asked Danglars.

"Yes, Monsieur the Baron," answered the lackey.

"Alone?"

"No, madame has company."

"It will not be indiscreet to present you before someone, will it, Monsieur the Count? You do not keep incognito?"

"No, Monsieur the Baron," said Monte Cristo smiling, "I do not recognize that right in myself."

"And who is with madame? M. Debray?" asked Danglars with a bonhomie that made Monte Cristo smile inwardly, already informed of the transparent domestic secrets of the financier.

"M. Debray, yes, Monsieur the Baron," answered the lackey.

Danglars made a sign with his head.

Then, turning to Monte Cristo:

"M. Lucien Debray," said he, "is an old friend of ours, intimate secretary to the Minister of the Interior; as for my wife, she has derogated in marrying me, for she belongs to an old family, she is a Mademoiselle de Servières, widow in first nuptials of M. the Colonel Marquis de Nargonne."

"I have not the honor of knowing Madame Danglars; but I have already met M. Lucien Debray."

"Bah!" said Danglars, "where then?"

"At M. de Morcerf's."

"Ah! you know the young viscount," said Danglars.

"We found ourselves together at Rome at the time of the carnival."

"Ah! yes," said Danglars, "have I not heard speak of something like a singular adventure with bandits, thieves in the ruins? He was drawn out of there miraculously. I believe he related something of all that to my wife and daughter on his return from Italy."

"Madame the Baroness awaits these gentlemen," came to say the lackey.

"I pass before to show you the way," said Danglars, bowing.

"And I follow you," said Monte Cristo.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”