Chapter 197: Chapter 197

"What are you talking about?" Danglars asked, as if he had no idea what Morcerf meant.

"Ah," Morcerf said, "I see you’re a stickler for proper formalities, my friend. You want me to do this the traditional way." He laughed awkwardly. "I apologize, I only have one son, and this is my first time arranging his marriage, so I’m still learning the ropes. Let me start over."

With a forced smile, Morcerf stood up, made an elaborate bow, and said formally, "Baron, I have the honor of requesting the hand of Mademoiselle Eugénie Danglars in marriage to my son, Vicomte Albert de Morcerf."

But instead of the warm reception Morcerf expected, Danglars frowned even deeper. He didn’t even invite Morcerf to sit down.

"Sir," Danglars said coldly, "I need time to think before I give you an answer."

"Think about it?" Morcerf was shocked. "Haven’t you had eight years to think about it? We’ve been discussing this marriage for eight years!"

"Count," the banker said slowly, "things happen in the world that make us reconsider our most settled opinions. Circumstances change. What seemed like a good idea in one situation might look completely different in another."

"I don’t understand what you’re saying, Baron."

"What I mean is this, in the past two weeks, unexpected circumstances have occurred-"

"Excuse me," Morcerf interrupted, "but are we performing in some kind of play here?"

"Yes, because this feels like a performance! Let’s be direct and understand each other clearly."

"That’s exactly what I want too."

"You’ve been meeting with the Count of Monte Cristo, haven’t you?"

"I see him very often," Danglars said, drawing himself up proudly. "He’s a close friend of mine."

"Well, in one of your recent conversations with him, you complained that I seemed forgetful and indecisive about this marriage, didn’t you?"

"Well, here I am right now, proving I’m neither forgetful nor indecisive by asking you to keep your promise!"

Danglars said nothing.

"Have you already changed your mind?" Morcerf added, his voice rising. "Or did you just provoke me to come here so you could have the pleasure of humiliating me?" Follow current ɴᴏᴠᴇʟs on novel•fire.net

Danglars realized that if he kept up this hostile tone, things might backfire on him. He changed his approach.

"Count, you must be surprised by my hesitation, and I assure you this is difficult for me. But believe me when I say I have no choice. Circumstances force me to act this way."

"Those are just empty words!" Morcerf snapped. "They might work on a stranger, but not on me. When a man like me comes to remind another man of his promise, and that man breaks his word, I have the right to demand a good reason why!"

Danglars was a coward at heart, but he didn’t want to appear weak. He was annoyed by Morcerf’s aggressive tone.

"I have a good reason," the banker replied.

"I mean I have a very good reason, but it’s difficult to explain."

"You must realize it’s impossible for me to understand your motives if you won’t explain them! But one thing is crystal clear, you’re refusing to let your family join with mine."

"No, sir," Danglars said carefully. "I’m merely postponing my decision. That’s all."

"And you actually expect me to accept all your whims and just quietly wait around until you decide to give me another chance?"

"Then, Count, if you won’t wait, we should just consider these plans cancelled."

Morcerf bit his lip so hard he almost drew blood, trying to control the rage boiling inside him. His pride and hot temper were barely contained. But he understood that losing his cool now would only make him look foolish. He turned away from the door he’d been heading toward and faced the banker again.

His expression had changed. The offended pride was gone, replaced by obvious anxiety and worry.

"My dear Danglars," he said more gently, "we’ve known each other for many years. We should make allowances for each other’s faults. You owe me an explanation. It’s only fair that I know why you’ve turned against my son."

"I have nothing against the Vicomte personally, I assure you," Danglars replied. He’d grown arrogant again now that he saw Morcerf softening.

"Then who do you have a problem with?" Morcerf’s face went pale with anger.

The banker had noticed the count’s changing expression. He looked at him with even more confidence.

"You might be happier if I didn’t get into specifics," he said smugly.

Morcerf’s entire body shook with suppressed rage. Making a huge effort to control himself, he said: "I have the right to insist on an explanation! Is it my wife who has displeased you? Is my fortune insufficient? Do you disagree with my political opinions?"

"Nothing like that, sir," Danglars replied. "If those were the problems, I’d be the only one to blame, because I knew all those things when we made this arrangement. No, don’t keep searching for the reason. I’m actually quite embarrassed to have put you through this difficult questioning. Let’s just drop the subject and take a middle approach, delay everything. That way we’re neither breaking off the engagement nor confirming it. There’s no rush, after all. My daughter is only seventeen, and your son is twenty-one. While we wait, time will pass, events will unfold. Things that look dark and mysterious at night often appear clear in the morning light. Sometimes just one word spoken, or one day passing, can reveal the cruelest lies for what they are."

"Lies?" Morcerf’s face turned bright red with rage. "Is someone spreading lies about me?"

"Sir, I already told you I think it’s best to avoid explanations."

"So I’m just supposed to patiently accept your refusal?"

"Yes, sir. Though I assure you, this refusal hurts me as much as it hurts you. I was counting on the honor of this alliance. Breaking off an engagement always damages the woman’s reputation more than the man’s."

"Enough!" Morcerf shouted. "We won’t speak of this anymore!"

Clutching his gloves in fury, he stormed out of the room.

Danglars noticed something interesting, during their entire conversation, Morcerf had never once dared to ask if Danglars was rejecting him because of something about Morcerf himself.

That evening, Danglars had a long meeting with several friends. Cavalcanti, who’d been entertaining the ladies in the drawing room, was the last to leave.

The next morning, as soon as Danglars woke up, he called for the newspapers. They brought him several, but he pushed most aside until he found L’Impartial, the paper where Beauchamp was the editor-in-chief.

He ripped off the cover with shaking hands, flipped past the Paris gossip section, and landed on the news briefs. A malicious smile spread across his face as he found a particular paragraph.

The headline read: News from Yanina

"Perfect," Danglars muttered after reading it. "Here’s a little article about Colonel Fernand. If I’m not mistaken, this will make any explanation the Count of Morcerf demanded from me completely unnecessary."

At that exact moment, nine o’clock in the morning, Albert de Morcerf, dressed in a black coat buttoned up to his chin, was walking quickly toward Monte Cristo’s mansion in the Champs-Élysées. He looked agitated.

When he arrived at the gate, the porter told him the Count had left about half an hour earlier.

"Did he take Baptistin with him?" Albert asked.

"Then call Baptistin. I need to speak with him."

The porter fetched the valet, who appeared almost immediately.

"My friend," Albert said, "forgive the intrusion, but I need to know directly from you, is your master really out, or is he avoiding visitors?"

"He really is out, sir," Baptistin replied.

"I know how happy my master is to receive you, Vicomte," Baptistin said. "I would never include you in any general ’not at home’ instructions."

"You’re right. I need to see him about something extremely important. Do you think he’ll be back soon?"

"I don’t think it will be long. He ordered breakfast for ten o’clock."

"Alright, I’ll take a walk in the Champs-Élysées and return at ten. Meanwhile, if the Count comes back, please ask him not to leave again without seeing me."

"You can count on me, sir," Baptistin promised.