Reading Help The Count of Monte Cristo Ch.75-117
"Well," said he, "I will ask you the same question which
Charles IX. put to Catherine de Medicis, after the massacre
of Saint Bartholomew, How have I played my little part?'"
"To what do you allude?" asked Monte Cristo.
"To the installation of my rival at M. Danglars'."
"What rival?"
"Ma foi, what rival? Why, your protege, M. Andrea
Cavalcanti!"
"Ah, no joking, viscount, if you please; I do not patronize
M. Andrea -- at least, not as concerns M. Danglars."
"And you would be to blame for not assisting him, if the
young man really needed your help in that quarter, but,
happily for me, he can dispense with it."
"What, do you think he is paying his addresses?"
"I am certain of it; his languishing looks and modulated
tones when addressing Mademoiselle Danglars fully proclaim
his intentions. He aspires to the hand of the proud
Eugenie."
"What does that signify, so long as they favor your suit?"
"But it is not the case, my dear count: on the contrary. I
am repulsed on all sides."
"What!"
"It is so indeed; Mademoiselle Eugenie scarcely answers me,
and Mademoiselle d'Armilly, her confidant, does not speak to
me at all."
"But the father has the greatest regard possible for you,"
said Monte Cristo.
"He? Oh, no, he has plunged a thousand daggers into my
heart, tragedy-weapons, I own, which instead of wounding
sheathe their points in their own handles, but daggers which
he nevertheless believed to be real and deadly."
"Jealousy indicates affection."
"True; but I am not jealous."
"He is."
"Of whom? -- of Debray?"
"No, of you."
"Of me? I will engage to say that before a week is past the
door will be closed against me."
"You are mistaken, my dear viscount."
"Prove it to me."
"Do you wish me to do so?"
"Yes."
"Well, I am charged with the commission of endeavoring to
induce the Comte de Morcerf to make some definite
arrangement with the baron."
"By whom are you charged?"
"By the baron himself."
"Oh," said Albert with all the cajolery of which he was
capable. "You surely will not do that, my dear count?"
"Certainly I shall, Albert, as I have promised to do it."
"Well," said Albert, with a sigh, "it seems you are
determined to marry me."
"I am determined to try and be on good terms with everybody,
at all events," said Monte Cristo. "But apropos of Debray,
how is it that I have not seen him lately at the baron's
house?"
"There has been a misunderstanding."
"What, with the baroness?"
"No, with the baron."
"Has he perceived anything?"
"Ah, that is a good joke!"
"Do you think he suspects?" said Monte Cristo with charming
artlessness.
"Where have you come from, my dear count?" said Albert.
"From Congo, if you will."
"It must be farther off than even that."
"But what do I know of your Parisian husbands?"
"Oh, my dear count, husbands are pretty much the same
everywhere; an individual husband of any country is a pretty
fair specimen of the whole race."
"But then, what can have led to the quarrel between Danglars
and Debray? They seemed to understand each other so well,"
said Monte Cristo with renewed energy.
"Ah, now you are trying to penetrate into the mysteries of
Isis, in which I am not initiated. When M. Andrea Cavalcanti
has become one of the family, you can ask him that
question." The carriage stopped. "Here we are," said Monte
Cristo; "it is only half-past ten o'clock, come in."
"Certainly I will."
"My carriage shall take you back."
"No, thank you; I gave orders for my coupe to follow me."
"There it is, then," said Monte Cristo, as he stepped out of
the carriage. They both went into the house; the
drawing-room was lighted up -- they went in there. "You will
make tea for us, Baptistin," said the count. Baptistin left
the room without waiting to answer, and in two seconds
reappeared, bringing on a waiter all that his master had
ordered, ready prepared, and appearing to have sprung from
the ground, like the repasts which we read of in fairy
tales. "Really, my dear count," said Morcerf. "what I admire
in you is, not so much your riches, for perhaps there are
people even wealthier than yourself, nor is it only your
wit, for Beaumarchais might have possessed as much, -- but
it is your manner of being served, without any questions, in
a moment, in a second; it is as if they guessed what you
wanted by your manner of ringing, and made a point of
keeping everything you can possibly desire in constant
readiness."
"What you say is perhaps true; they know my habits. For
instance, you shall see; how do you wish to occupy yourself
during tea-time?"
"Ma foi, I should like to smoke."
Monte Cristo took the gong and struck it once. In about the
space of a second a private door opened, and Ali appeared,
bringing two chibouques filled with excellent latakia. "It
is quite wonderful," said Albert.
"Oh no, it is as simple as possible," replied Monte Cristo.
"Ali knows I generally smoke while I am taking my tea or
coffee; he has heard that I ordered tea, and he also knows
that I brought you home with me; when I summoned him he
naturally guessed the reason of my doing so, and as he comes
from a country where hospitality is especially manifested
through the medium of smoking, he naturally concludes that
we shall smoke in company, and therefore brings two
chibouques instead of one -- and now the mystery is solved."
"Certainly you give a most commonplace air to your
explanation, but it is not the less true that you -- Ah, but
what do I hear?" and Morcerf inclined his head towards the
door, through which sounds seemed to issue resembling those
of a guitar.
"Ma foi, my dear viscount, you are fated to hear music this
evening; you have only escaped from Mademoiselle Danglars'
piano, to be attacked by Haidee's guzla."
"Haidee -- what an adorable name! Are there, then, really
women who bear the name of Haidee anywhere but in Byron's
poems?"
"Certainly there are. Haidee is a very uncommon name in
France, but is common enough in Albania and Epirus; it is as
it you said, for example, Chastity, Modesty, Innocence, --
it is a kind of baptismal name, as you Parisians call it."
"Oh, that is charming," said Albert, "how I should like to
hear my countrywomen called Mademoiselle Goodness,
Mademoiselle Silence, Mademoiselle Christian Charity! Only
think, then, if Mademoiselle Danglars, instead of being
called Claire-Marie-Eugenie, had been named Mademoiselle
Chastity-Modesty-Innocence Danglars; what a fine effect that
would have produced on the announcement of her marriage!"
"Hush," said the count, "do not joke in so loud a tone;
Haidee may hear you, perhaps."
"And you think she would be angry?"
"No, certainly not," said the count with a haughty
Charles IX. put to Catherine de Medicis, after the massacre
of Saint Bartholomew, How have I played my little part?'"
"To what do you allude?" asked Monte Cristo.
"To the installation of my rival at M. Danglars'."
"What rival?"
"Ma foi, what rival? Why, your protege, M. Andrea
Cavalcanti!"
"Ah, no joking, viscount, if you please; I do not patronize
M. Andrea -- at least, not as concerns M. Danglars."
"And you would be to blame for not assisting him, if the
young man really needed your help in that quarter, but,
happily for me, he can dispense with it."
"What, do you think he is paying his addresses?"
"I am certain of it; his languishing looks and modulated
tones when addressing Mademoiselle Danglars fully proclaim
his intentions. He aspires to the hand of the proud
Eugenie."
"What does that signify, so long as they favor your suit?"
"But it is not the case, my dear count: on the contrary. I
am repulsed on all sides."
"What!"
"It is so indeed; Mademoiselle Eugenie scarcely answers me,
and Mademoiselle d'Armilly, her confidant, does not speak to
me at all."
"But the father has the greatest regard possible for you,"
said Monte Cristo.
"He? Oh, no, he has plunged a thousand daggers into my
heart, tragedy-weapons, I own, which instead of wounding
sheathe their points in their own handles, but daggers which
he nevertheless believed to be real and deadly."
"Jealousy indicates affection."
"True; but I am not jealous."
"He is."
"Of whom? -- of Debray?"
"No, of you."
"Of me? I will engage to say that before a week is past the
door will be closed against me."
"You are mistaken, my dear viscount."
"Prove it to me."
"Do you wish me to do so?"
"Yes."
"Well, I am charged with the commission of endeavoring to
induce the Comte de Morcerf to make some definite
arrangement with the baron."
"By whom are you charged?"
"By the baron himself."
"Oh," said Albert with all the cajolery of which he was
capable. "You surely will not do that, my dear count?"
"Certainly I shall, Albert, as I have promised to do it."
"Well," said Albert, with a sigh, "it seems you are
determined to marry me."
"I am determined to try and be on good terms with everybody,
at all events," said Monte Cristo. "But apropos of Debray,
how is it that I have not seen him lately at the baron's
house?"
"There has been a misunderstanding."
"What, with the baroness?"
"No, with the baron."
"Has he perceived anything?"
"Ah, that is a good joke!"
"Do you think he suspects?" said Monte Cristo with charming
artlessness.
"Where have you come from, my dear count?" said Albert.
"From Congo, if you will."
"It must be farther off than even that."
"But what do I know of your Parisian husbands?"
"Oh, my dear count, husbands are pretty much the same
everywhere; an individual husband of any country is a pretty
fair specimen of the whole race."
"But then, what can have led to the quarrel between Danglars
and Debray? They seemed to understand each other so well,"
said Monte Cristo with renewed energy.
"Ah, now you are trying to penetrate into the mysteries of
Isis, in which I am not initiated. When M. Andrea Cavalcanti
has become one of the family, you can ask him that
question." The carriage stopped. "Here we are," said Monte
Cristo; "it is only half-past ten o'clock, come in."
"Certainly I will."
"My carriage shall take you back."
"No, thank you; I gave orders for my coupe to follow me."
"There it is, then," said Monte Cristo, as he stepped out of
the carriage. They both went into the house; the
drawing-room was lighted up -- they went in there. "You will
make tea for us, Baptistin," said the count. Baptistin left
the room without waiting to answer, and in two seconds
reappeared, bringing on a waiter all that his master had
ordered, ready prepared, and appearing to have sprung from
the ground, like the repasts which we read of in fairy
tales. "Really, my dear count," said Morcerf. "what I admire
in you is, not so much your riches, for perhaps there are
people even wealthier than yourself, nor is it only your
wit, for Beaumarchais might have possessed as much, -- but
it is your manner of being served, without any questions, in
a moment, in a second; it is as if they guessed what you
wanted by your manner of ringing, and made a point of
keeping everything you can possibly desire in constant
readiness."
"What you say is perhaps true; they know my habits. For
instance, you shall see; how do you wish to occupy yourself
during tea-time?"
"Ma foi, I should like to smoke."
Monte Cristo took the gong and struck it once. In about the
space of a second a private door opened, and Ali appeared,
bringing two chibouques filled with excellent latakia. "It
is quite wonderful," said Albert.
"Oh no, it is as simple as possible," replied Monte Cristo.
"Ali knows I generally smoke while I am taking my tea or
coffee; he has heard that I ordered tea, and he also knows
that I brought you home with me; when I summoned him he
naturally guessed the reason of my doing so, and as he comes
from a country where hospitality is especially manifested
through the medium of smoking, he naturally concludes that
we shall smoke in company, and therefore brings two
chibouques instead of one -- and now the mystery is solved."
"Certainly you give a most commonplace air to your
explanation, but it is not the less true that you -- Ah, but
what do I hear?" and Morcerf inclined his head towards the
door, through which sounds seemed to issue resembling those
of a guitar.
"Ma foi, my dear viscount, you are fated to hear music this
evening; you have only escaped from Mademoiselle Danglars'
piano, to be attacked by Haidee's guzla."
"Haidee -- what an adorable name! Are there, then, really
women who bear the name of Haidee anywhere but in Byron's
poems?"
"Certainly there are. Haidee is a very uncommon name in
France, but is common enough in Albania and Epirus; it is as
it you said, for example, Chastity, Modesty, Innocence, --
it is a kind of baptismal name, as you Parisians call it."
"Oh, that is charming," said Albert, "how I should like to
hear my countrywomen called Mademoiselle Goodness,
Mademoiselle Silence, Mademoiselle Christian Charity! Only
think, then, if Mademoiselle Danglars, instead of being
called Claire-Marie-Eugenie, had been named Mademoiselle
Chastity-Modesty-Innocence Danglars; what a fine effect that
would have produced on the announcement of her marriage!"
"Hush," said the count, "do not joke in so loud a tone;
Haidee may hear you, perhaps."
"And you think she would be angry?"
"No, certainly not," said the count with a haughty