Chapter 169: Chapter 169

"Perfect. He visited me this morning with a payment order for 40,000 francs, payable immediately, drawn on you and signed by Busoni. You endorsed it and sent it to me. Naturally, I counted out forty banknotes for him right away."

Monte Cristo nodded in acknowledgment.

"But that’s not all," Danglars continued. "He’s opened an account with my bank for his son."

"May I ask how much the young man receives monthly?"

"Five thousand francs per month."

"Sixty thousand a year? I was right to think Cavalcanti is stingy. How can a young man live on only 5,000 francs a month?"

"Well, if the young man needs a few thousand more-"

"Don’t advance it. The father will never pay you back. You don’t know these ultra-wealthy families from across the mountains, they’re absolute misers. Who recommended them to you, anyway?"

"The House of Fenzi, one of the most respected firms in Florence."

"I’m not saying you’ll lose money, but stick strictly to the agreed terms."

"You wouldn’t trust the Cavalcantis?"

"Me? I’d advance them ten million on their signature alone. I was only referring to those second-tier fortunes we discussed earlier."

"And yet he’s so modest! I never would have guessed he was anything more than a simple major in the army."

"You would have flattered him, because as you say, he has no presence. The first time I saw him, he looked like an old lieutenant who’d grown moldy under his military insignia. But all those people from that region are like that, they’re either like old misers or they’re dripping in ostentatious wealth."

"The son seems better," Danglars observed.

"Yes, a bit nervous perhaps, but overall acceptable. I was worried about him."

"Because you met him at my house just after his introduction to society. He’d been traveling with a very strict tutor and had never been to the capital before."

"Ah." Danglars paused, then asked casually, "Don’t nobles usually marry within their own circle? They like to combine their fortunes, don’t they?"

"Usually, yes. But Cavalcanti is unconventional, he doesn’t do anything like other people. I can’t help thinking he brought his son to this country specifically to find him a wife."

"Have you heard anything about his fortune?"

"That’s all anyone talks about. Some say he’s worth millions, others claim he doesn’t have a penny."

"I shouldn’t influence you, it’s just my personal impression."

"My opinion is this: all these old officials, these ancient military commanders, and the Cavalcantis did command armies and govern provinces, I believe they’ve buried their millions in secret hiding places, passing the locations only to their eldest sons, generation after generation. The proof is in their dried-out, yellowed appearance, like old gold coins that have been stared at so long they’ve somehow reflected into the faces of their owners."

"Certainly," Danglars agreed, "and it’s supported by the fact that they don’t own any land."

"Very little, at least. I don’t know of any land Cavalcanti owns except his palace in Lucca."

"Ah, he has a palace?" Danglars laughed. "Well, that’s something."

"Yes, and more than that, he rents it out to the Minister of Finance while he himself lives in a modest house. As I said, I think the old man is extremely tight with money."

"You’re not painting a flattering picture."

"I barely know him. I’ve seen him maybe three times in my life. Everything I know about him comes from Busoni and the man himself. He told me this morning that he’s tired of letting his wealth sit idle in his home country, which he considers economically dead. He wants to find opportunities in this country or in England to multiply his millions. But remember, while I trust Busoni greatly, I’m not vouching for any of this."

"Never mind. Thank you for sending me this client. It’s an impressive name to have in my ledgers, and my cashier was quite proud when I explained who the Cavalcantis are. By the way, just a simple question, when people marry off their sons, do they provide any dowry?"

"Oh, that depends on circumstances. I know a wealthy prince from that region, from one of the noblest families, who gave his sons millions when they married according to his wishes, but only thirty crowns monthly when they married against his consent. If Andrea marries according to his father’s preferences, he might receive one, two, or even three million. For instance, if he married a banker’s daughter, the father might take an interest in his son’s father-in-law’s business. On the other hand, if he disapproves of the match, the major will lock his coffers tight, and young Andrea would have to live like any ordinary young man in the capital, gambling at cards or dice to make ends meet."

"Ah, that boy will probably find himself some princess from a distant kingdom. He’ll want a crown, a legendary fortune, and a mountain of gold."

"No, these grand lords from across the mountains often marry into ordinary families. Like the old gods in mythology, they like to mix their bloodlines. But are you thinking of marrying Andrea to someone, my dear Monsieur Danglars? You’re asking quite a few questions."

"Well," Danglars said, "it wouldn’t be a bad investment, I think. You know I’m a speculator."

"You’re not thinking of your own daughter, are you? You wouldn’t want poor Andrea to get his throat cut by Albert, would you?"

"Albert?" Danglars shrugged dismissively. "I don’t think he’d care much."

"But isn’t he engaged to your daughter?"

"Well, Monsieur de Morcerf and I have discussed this marriage, but Madame de Morcerf and Albert-"

"You’re not suggesting it wouldn’t be a good match?"

"I imagine my daughter is just as good as Monsieur de Morcerf."

"Your daughter’s fortune will certainly be substantial, assuming the telegraph doesn’t make any more errors."

"Oh, I don’t just mean her fortune. But tell me-"

"Why didn’t you invite Monsieur and Madame de Morcerf to your dinner party?"

"I did, but he declined because Madame de Morcerf needed to go to the seaside for her health."

"Yes, yes," Danglars said with a nasty laugh. "The sea air would do her a great deal of good."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because it’s the air she always breathed in her youth."

Monte Cristo ignored this spiteful remark. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs, ᴘʟᴇᴀsᴇ ᴠɪsɪᴛ NoveI[F]ire.net

"Still, even if Albert isn’t as wealthy as your daughter," the count said, "you must admit he has an excellent family name."

"He does, but I like my own name just as well."

"Certainly. Your name is well-known and honors the title they’ve given you. But you’re too intelligent not to know that, according to a deeply rooted prejudice, a noble lineage going back five centuries is worth more than one that’s only twenty years old."

"And for that very reason," Danglars said with a smile he tried to make cutting, "I prefer Monsieur Andrea Cavalcanti to Monsieur Albert de Morcerf."

"Still, I wouldn’t think the Morcerfs would yield to the Cavalcantis."

"The Morcerfs? Wait, my dear count," Danglars said, leaning forward. "You’re a man of the world, aren’t you?"

"And you understand aristocratic heritage and family crests?"

"Well, look at my coat of arms, it’s worth more than Morcerf’s."

"Because, although I wasn’t born a baron, my real name is actually Danglars."

"While his name isn’t really Morcerf."

"I was made a baron, so I genuinely am one. He made himself a count, so he’s not one at all."

"Listen, my dear count. Monsieur de Morcerf has been my friend, or rather, my acquaintance, for thirty years. You know I’ve made the most of my success, though I’ve never forgotten where I came from."

"A sign of either great humility or great pride," Monte Cristo observed.

"Well, when I was a clerk, Morcerf was just a fisherman."

"Absolutely! I bought enough fish from him to know his name."

"Then why would you consider marrying your daughter to him?"

"Because Fernand and Danglars are both self-made men. We both earned our nobility and our wealth, so we’re roughly equal, except that certain things have been said about him that were never said about me."

"Oh, nothing important."

"Ah, wait, what you’re telling me reminds me of something. I’ve heard the name Fernand Mondego before, in Greece."

"In connection with Ali Pasha’s affairs?"

"That’s the mystery," Danglars said, his eyes gleaming. "I’d give anything to uncover it."

"It would be easy enough if you really wanted to know."

"You must have business contacts in Greece, don’t you?"

"Well, write to your contact in Yanina and ask what role a Frenchman named Fernand Mondego played in the downfall of Ali Tepelini."

"You’re right!" Danglars jumped to his feet. "I’ll write today!"

"And if you hear anything particularly scandalous-"

"I’ll share it with you."

"You’d be doing me a favor."

Danglars practically ran from the room and leaped into his carriage with a single bound, his mind already racing with possibilities.