Chapter 76

CHAPTER 76
Progress of Cavalcanti the Younger.

Meanwhile M. Cavalcanti the elder had returned to his
service, not in the army of his majesty the Emperor of
Austria, but at the gaming-table of the baths of Lucca, of
which he was one of the most assiduous courtiers. He had
spent every farthing that had been allowed for his journey
as a reward for the majestic and solemn manner in which he
had maintained his assumed character of father. M. Andrea at
his departure inherited all the papers which proved that he
had indeed the honor of being the son of the Marquis
Bartolomeo and the Marchioness Oliva Corsinari. He was now
fairly launched in that Parisian society which gives such
ready access to foreigners, and treats them, not as they
really are, but as they wish to be considered. Besides, what
is required of a young man in Paris? To speak its language
tolerably, to make a good appearance, to be a good gamester,
and to pay in cash. They are certainly less particular with
a foreigner than with a Frenchman. Andrea had, then, in a
fortnight, attained a very fair position. He was called
count, he was said to possess 50,000 livres per annum; and
his father's immense riches, buried in the quarries of
Saravezza, were a constant theme. A learned man, before whom
the last circumstance was mentioned as a fact, declared he
had seen the quarries in question, which gave great weight
to assertions hitherto somewhat doubtful, but which now
assumed the garb of reality.

Such was the state of society in Paris at the period we
bring before our readers, when Monte Cristo went one evening
to pay M. Danglars a visit. M. Danglars was out, but the
count was asked to go and see the baroness, and he accepted
the invitation. It was never without a nervous shudder,
since the dinner at Auteuil, and the events which followed
it, that Madame Danglars heard Monte Cristo's name
announced. If he did not come, the painful sensation became
most intense; if, on the contrary, he appeared, his noble
countenance, his brilliant eyes, his amiability, his polite
attention even towards Madame Danglars, soon dispelled every
impression of fear. It appeared impossible to the baroness
that a man of such delightfully pleasing manners should
entertain evil designs against her; besides, the most
corrupt minds only suspect evil when it would answer some
interested end -- useless injury is repugnant to every mind.
When Monte Cristo entered the boudoir, -- to which we have
already once introduced our readers, and where the baroness
was examining some drawings, which her daughter passed to
her after having looked at them with M. Cavalcanti, -- his
presence soon produced its usual effect, and it was with
smiles