LXVIII. Un bal d'été.

LXVIII

A Summer Ball.

On that same day, about the hour when Madame Danglars was holding the interview we have described in the cabinet of the king's attorney, a traveling carriage, entering the rue du Helder, passed through the gateway of No. 27 and stopped in the courtyard.

After a moment the door opened, and Madame de Morcerf stepped out, leaning on her son's arm.

Scarcely had Albert seen his mother home than, ordering a bath and his horses, and placing himself in the hands of his valet, he had himself driven to the Champs-Élysées, to the Count of Monte Cristo.

The count received him with his habitual smile. It was a strange thing: never did one appear to advance a single step in the heart or mind of this man. Those who wished, if one may say so, to force a passage into his intimacy found a wall.

Morcerf, who came to him with open arms, on seeing him, and despite his friendly smile, let his arms fall, and dared only just hold out his hand.

For his part, Monte Cristo touched it, as he always did, but without pressing it.

"Well, here I am," he said, "dear count."

"Welcome."

"I arrived an hour ago."

"From Dieppe?"

"From Le Tréport."

"Ah! that is true."

"And my first visit is to you."

"That is charming of you," said Monte Cristo, as he might have said anything else.

"Well, then, let us see, what news?"

"News! You ask that of me, of a stranger!"

"I mean: when I ask what news, I ask whether you have done anything for me?"

"Had you then charged me with some commission?" said Monte Cristo, feigning concern.

"Come, come," said Albert, "do not simulate indifference. They say there are sympathetic warnings that cross distance: well! at Le Tréport I received my electric shock; you have, if not worked for me, at least thought of me."

"That is possible," said Monte Cristo. "I did indeed think of you; but the magnetic current of which I was the conductor acted, I confess, independently of my will."

"Indeed! Tell me about it, I pray you."

"It is easy. M. Danglars dined with me."

"I know that well, since it was to flee his presence that my mother and I departed."

"But he dined with M. Andrea Cavalcanti."

"Your Italian prince?"

"Let us not exaggerate. M. Andrea only gives himself the title of viscount."

"Gives himself, you say?"

"I say: gives himself."

"He is not one, then?"

"Eh! how should I know? He gives himself the title, I give it to him, others give it to him; is that not as good as having it?"

"Strange man you are, go on! Well?"

"Well, what?"

"M. Danglars dined here, then?"

"Yes."

"With your viscount Andrea Cavalcanti?"

"With the viscount Andrea Cavalcanti, the marquis his father, Mme Danglars, M. and Mme de Villefort, charming people, M. Debray, Maximilien Morrel, and then who else... wait... ah! M. de Château-Renaud."

"Was I spoken of?"

"Not a word was said of you."

"So much the worse."

"Why so? It seems to me that, if you were forgotten, they did but what you desired!"

"My dear count, if nothing was said of me, it is that they were thinking much of me, and then I am in despair."

"What matters it to you, since Mlle Danglars was not among those who thought of you here! Ah! it is true she may have thought of you at home."

"Oh! as for that, no, I am sure: or if she thought of me, it is certainly in the same way that I think of her."

"Touching sympathy!" said the count. "Then you detest each other?"

"Listen," said Morcerf, "if Mlle Danglars were a woman to take pity on the martyrdom I do not suffer for her, and to reward me outside the matrimonial arrangements settled between our two families, that would suit me marvelously. In short, I believe Mlle Danglars would be a charming mistress, but as a wife, the devil...."

"Thus," said Monte Cristo, laughing, "that is your way of thinking of your future?"

"Oh! my God, yes, a bit brutal, it is true, but at least exact. Now, since one cannot make this dream a reality; and as, to attain a certain end, Mlle Danglars must become my wife—that is to say, live with me, think near me, sing near me, write verses and make music ten paces from me, and that for all my life—then I am terrified. A mistress, my dear count, one leaves; but a wife, zounds! it is another thing, one keeps her eternally, near or far, that is to say. Now, it is frightful to keep Mlle Danglars always, even at a distance."

"You are difficult, viscount."

"Yes, for often I think of an impossible thing."

"Of which?"

"Of finding for myself a wife such as my father found one for himself."

Monte Cristo turned pale and looked at Albert, playing with magnificent pistols whose springs he made snap rapidly.

"Thus your father was very happy," he said.

"You know my opinion of my mother, Monsieur le Count: an angel from heaven; see her still beautiful, always witty, better than ever. I come from Le Tréport; for any other son, eh! my God! to accompany his mother would be a complaisance or a chore; but I spent four days alone with her, more satisfied, more rested, more poetic, shall I tell you, than if I had taken Queen Mab or Titania to Le Tréport."

"It is a desperate perfection, and you give all who hear you grave desires to remain bachelors."

"That is just," resumed Morcerf, "why, knowing that there exists in the world an accomplished woman, I do not care to marry Mlle Danglars. Have you sometimes noticed how our selfishness clothes in brilliant colors all that belongs to us? The diamond that sparkled in the window of Marlé or Fossin becomes much finer since it is our diamond; but if evidence forces you to recognize that there is one of purer water, and you are condemned to wear eternally that diamond inferior to another, do you understand the suffering?"

"Worldling!" murmured the count.

"That is why I shall jump for joy the day Mlle Eugénie perceives that I am but a puny atom and that I have scarcely as many hundred thousand francs as she has millions."

Monte Cristo smiled.

"I had thought of something else," continued Albert; "Franz loves eccentric things; I wanted to make him, in spite of himself, in love with Mlle Danglars; but to four letters I wrote him in the most tempting style, Franz imperturbably answered me: 'I am eccentric, it is true, but my eccentricity does not go so far as to take back my word once given.'"

"That is what I call the devotion of friendship: to give another the woman one would want only as a mistress."

Albert smiled.

"By the way," he continued, "he is arriving, this dear Franz; but it matters little to you, you do not like him, I believe?"

"I!" said Monte Cristo; "eh! my dear viscount, where did you ever see that I did not like M. Franz? I love everybody."

"And I am included in everybody... thanks."

"Oh! let us not confuse," said Monte Cristo; "I love everybody in the way God commands us to love our neighbor, Christianly; but I hate only certain persons. Back to M. Franz d'Épinay. You say then he is arriving."

"Yes, summoned by M. de Villefort, as enraged, it appears, to marry Mlle Valentine as M. Danglars is enraged to marry Mlle Eugénie. Decidedly, it seems that being father to grown daughters is a most fatiguing state; it seems to me it gives them fever, and their pulse beats ninety times a minute, until they are rid of them."

"But M. d'Épinay does not resemble you; he takes his ill patiently."

"Better than that, he takes it seriously; he puts on white cravats and already speaks of his family. He has, moreover, great consideration for the Villeforts."

"Merited, is it not?"

"I believe so. M. de Villefort has always passed for a severe man, but just."

"So far so good," said Monte Cristo, "here is at least one you do not treat like that poor M. Danglars."

"That may be because I am not forced to marry his daughter," answered Albert, laughing.

"Truly, my dear sir," said Monte Cristo, "you are of a revolting conceit."

"I?"

"Yes, you. Come, take a cigar."

"Willingly. And why am I conceited?"

"But because you are there defending yourself, struggling against marrying Mlle Danglars. Eh! my God! let things go, and perhaps it is not you who will withdraw your word first."

"Bah!" said Albert with wide eyes.

"Eh! certainly, Monsieur le Vicomte, they will not force your neck into the gates, the devil! Come, seriously," resumed Monte Cristo, changing his tone, "do you wish to break it off?"

"I would give a hundred thousand francs for that."

"Well, be happy: M. Danglars is ready to give double to attain the same end."

"Is that happiness true?" said Albert, who nevertheless, in saying this, could not prevent an imperceptible cloud from passing over his brow. "But, my dear count, M. Danglars has reasons, then?"

"Ah! there you are, proud and selfish nature! So far so good, I find again the man who would cleave another's self-love with an ax, and who cries when his own is pierced with a needle."

"No! but it seems to me that M. Danglars...."

"Was to be enchanted with you, was he not? Well, M. Danglars is a man of bad taste, that is agreed, and he is still more enchanted with another...."

"With whom?"

"I don't know; study, look, catch the allusions as they pass, and turn them to your profit."

"Good, I understand; listen, my mother... no! not my mother, I mistake, my father had the idea of giving a ball."

"A ball at this time of year?"

"Summer balls are the fashion."

"They might not be, and the countess would only need to wish it, and she would put them there."

"Not bad; you understand, these are thoroughbred balls; those who remain in Paris in the month of July are true Parisians. Will you undertake an invitation for the MM. Cavalcanti?"

"In how many days is your ball?"

"Saturday."

"M. Cavalcanti father will have left."

"But M. Cavalcanti son remains. Will you undertake to bring M. Cavalcanti son?"

"Listen, viscount, I do not know him."

"You do not know him?"

"No; I saw him for the first time three or four days ago, and I answer for nothing about him."

"But you receive him, surely!"

"I, that is another thing; he was recommended to me by a worthy abbé who may himself have been deceived. Invite him directly, excellent, but do not tell me to present him to you; if he were later to marry Mlle Danglars, you would accuse me of maneuvering, and you would want to cut your throat with me; besides, I do not know if I shall go myself."

"Where?"

"To your ball."

"Why would you not come?"

"First because you have not yet invited me."

"I came expressly to bring you your invitation myself."

"Oh! that is too charming; but I may be prevented."

"When I shall have told you one thing, you will be kind enough to sacrifice all hindrances to us."

"Say it."

"My mother begs you."

"Mme la Comtesse de Morcerf?" repeated Monte Cristo, starting.

"Ah! count," said Albert, "I warn you that Mme de Morcerf talks freely with me; and if you did not feel those sympathetic fibers I spoke to you of just now crack within you, it is that those fibers are completely lacking in you, for four days we spoke of nothing but you."

"Of me? Indeed you overwhelm me!"

"Listen, it is the privilege of your office: when one is a living problem."

"Ah! I am then also a problem for your mother? Indeed, I should have thought her too reasonable to give herself up to such flights of imagination!"

"Problem, my dear count, problem for all, for my mother as for others; problem accepted but not guessed, you remain always an enigma: rest assured. My mother only always asks how it is that you are so young. I believe that, at bottom, while the Comtesse G... takes you for Lord Ruthwen, my mother takes you for Cagliostro or the Count of Saint-Germain. The first time you come to see Mme de Morcerf, confirm her in that opinion. That will not be difficult for you; you have the philosopher's stone of the one and the wit of the other."

"I thank you for warning me," said the count, smiling; "I shall try to prepare myself to face all suppositions."

"So you will come Saturday?"

"Since Mme de Morcerf begs me."

"You are charming."

"And M. Danglars?"

"Oh! he has already received the triple invitation; my father undertook it. We shall also try to have the great d'Aguesseau, M. de Villefort; but they despair of it."

"One should never despair of anything," says the proverb.

"Do you dance, dear count?"

"I?"

"Yes, you. What would be astonishing in your dancing?"

"Ah! indeed, as long as one has not passed forty.... No, I do not dance; but I like to see others dance. And Mme de Morcerf, does she dance?"

"Never, either; you will talk, she so wishes to talk with you!"

"Indeed?"

"Word of honor! and I declare to you that you are the first man for whom my mother has shown this curiosity."

Albert took his hat and rose; the count saw him to the door.

"I reproach myself," he said, stopping him at the top of the steps.

"For what?"

"I was indiscreet, I should not have spoken to you of M. Danglars."

"On the contrary, speak to me of him again, speak to me of him often, speak to me of him always; but in the same way."

"Good! you reassure me. By the way, when does M. d'Épinay arrive?"

"Why, in five or six days at the latest."

"And when does he marry?"

"As soon as M. and Mme de Saint-Méran arrive."

"Bring him to me, then, when he is in Paris. Though you pretend I do not like him, I declare to you I shall be happy to see him."

"Well, your orders shall be executed, my lord."

"Farewell!"

"Till Saturday, at all events, sure, is it not?"

"Why, yes! it is a given word."

The count followed Albert with his eyes, waving his hand. Then, when Albert had got back into his phaeton, he turned, and finding Bertuccio behind him:

"Well?" he asked.

"She went to the Palais," answered the steward.

"Did she stay long?"

"An hour and a half."

"And she returned home?"

"Directly."

"Well, my dear M. Bertuccio," said the count, "if I have now a piece of advice to give you, it is to go see in Normandy whether you cannot find that little estate I spoke to you of."

Bertuccio bowed, and, as his wishes were in perfect harmony with the order he had received, he departed that very evening.

“Stories of the world, in your language.”