The Count of Monte Cristo + The Three Musketeers + The Man in the Iron Mask (3 Unabridged Classics). Alexandre DumasЧитать онлайн книгу.
replied Danglars. And so I came,” added Caderousse, “as fast as I could to have the pleasure of shaking hands with a friend.”
“Worthy Caderousse!” said the old man, “he is so much attached to us.”
“Yes, to be sure I am. I love and esteem you, because honest folks are so rare. But it seems you have come back rich, my boy,” continued the tailor, looking askance at the handful of gold and silver which Dantes had thrown on the table.
The young man remarked the greedy glance which shone in the dark eyes of his neighbor. “Eh,” he said, negligently. “this money is not mine. I was expressing to my father my fears that he had wanted many things in my absence, and to convince me he emptied his purse on the table. Come, father” added Dantes, “put this money back in your box — unless neighbor Caderousse wants anything, and in that case it is at his service.”
“No, my boy, no,” said Caderousse. “I am not in any want, thank God, my living is suited to my means. Keep your money — keep it, I say; — one never has too much; — but, at the same time, my boy, I am as much obliged by your offer as if I took advantage of it.”
“It was offered with good will,” said Dantes.
“No doubt, my boy; no doubt. Well, you stand well with M. Morrel I hear, — you insinuating dog, you!”
“M. Morrel has always been exceedingly kind to me,” replied Dantes.
“Then you were wrong to refuse to dine with him.”
“What, did you refuse to dine with him?” said old Dantes; “and did he invite you to dine?”
“Yes, my dear father,” replied Edmond, smiling at his father’s astonishment at the excessive honor paid to his son.
“And why did you refuse, my son?” inquired the old man.
“That I might the sooner see you again, my dear father,” replied the young man. “I was most anxious to see you.”
“But it must have vexed M. Morrel, good, worthy man,” said Caderousse. “And when you are looking forward to be captain, it was wrong to annoy the owner.”
“But I explained to him the cause of my refusal,” replied Dantes, “and I hope he fully understood it.”
“Yes, but to be captain one must do a little flattery to one’s patrons.”
“I hope to be captain without that,” said Dantes.
“So much the better — so much the better! Nothing will give greater pleasure to all your old friends; and I know one down there behind the Saint Nicolas citadel who will not be sorry to hear it.”
“Mercedes?” said the old man.
“Yes, my dear father, and with your permission, now I have seen you, and know you are well and have all you require, I will ask your consent to go and pay a visit to the Catalans.”
“Go, my dear boy,” said old Dantes: “and heaven bless you in your wife, as it has blessed me in my son!”
“His wife!” said Caderousse; “why, how fast you go on, father Dantes; she is not his wife yet, as it seems to me.”
“So, but according to all probability she soon will be,” replied Edmond.
“Yes — yes,” said Caderousse; “but you were right to return as soon as possible, my boy.”
“And why?”
“Because Mercedes is a very fine girl, and fine girls never lack followers; she particularly has them by dozens.”
“Really?” answered Edmond, with a smile which had in it traces of slight uneasiness.
“Ah, yes,” continued Caderousse, “and capital offers, too; but you know, you will be captain, and who could refuse you then?”
“Meaning to say,” replied Dantes, with a smile which but ill-concealed his trouble, “that if I were not a captain” —
“Eh — eh!” said Caderousse, shaking his head.
“Come, come,” said the sailor, “I have a better opinion than you of women in general, and of Mercedes in particular; and I am certain that, captain or not, she will remain ever faithful to me.”
“So much the better — so much the better,” said Caderousse. “When one is going to be married, there is nothing like implicit confidence; but never mind that, my boy, — go and announce your arrival, and let her know all your hopes and prospects.”
“I will go directly,” was Edmond’s reply; and, embracing his father, and nodding to Caderousse, he left the apartment.
Caderousse lingered for a moment, then taking leave of old Dantes, he went downstairs to rejoin Danglars, who awaited him at the corner of the Rue Senac.
“Well,” said Danglars, “did you see him?”
“I have just left him,” answered Caderousse.
“Did he allude to his hope of being captain?”
“He spoke of it as a thing already decided.”
“Indeed!” said Danglars, “he is in too much hurry, it appears to me.”
“Why, it seems M. Morrel has promised him the thing.”
“So that he is quite elated about it?”
“Why, yes, he is actually insolent over the matter — has already offered me his patronage, as if he were a grand personage, and proffered me a loan of money, as though he were a banker.”
“Which you refused?”
“Most assuredly; although I might easily have accepted it, for it was I who put into his hands the first silver he ever earned; but now M. Dantes has no longer any occasion for assistance — he is about to become a captain.”
“Pooh!” said Danglars, “he is not one yet.”
“Ma foi, it will be as well if he is not,” answered Caderousse; “for if he should be, there will be really no speaking to him.”
“If we choose,” replied Danglars, “he will remain what he is; and perhaps become even less than he is.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing — I was speaking to myself. And is he still in love with the Catalane?”
“Over head and ears; but, unless I am much mistaken, there will be a storm in that quarter.”
“Explain yourself.”
“Why should I?”
“It is more important than you think, perhaps. You do not like Dantes?”
“I never like upstarts.”
“Then tell me all you know about the Catalane.”
“I know nothing for certain; only I have seen things which induce me to believe, as I told you, that the future captain will find some annoyance in the vicinity of the Vieilles Infirmeries.”
“What have you seen? — come, tell me!”
“Well, every time I have seen Mercedes come into the city she has been accompanied by a tall, strapping, black-eyed Catalan, with a red complexion, brown skin, and fierce air, whom she calls cousin.”
“Really; and you think this cousin pays her attentions?”
“I only suppose so. What else can a strapping chap of twenty-one mean with a fine wench of seventeen?”
“And you say that Dantes has gone to the Catalans?”
“He went before I came down.”
“Let us go the same way; we will stop at La Reserve, and we can drink a glass of La Malgue,